Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 47103 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47103 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
We followed him to the island, steering him away from nipping the dish towel hanging from the stove. Murphy let go, sitting on his haunches to scratch his ear. Even that was adorable.
I sat on the floor and leaned against the island.
Aaron joined me, brushing my shoulder as he got comfortable. “Maybe we should tell him about the endless treat supply and if he’s still on the fence, we’ll bring out the toys and…ooh, we have to show him the yard. Murph, you’re going to lose your little puppy mind.”
“I think he’s just happy to be here, aren’t you, little guy?”
Murphy waddled between us, perched a paw on Aaron’s leg, and barked in response.
He picked Murphy up with a “Whoop” and hugged him close. “He approves!”
Aaron beamed at me—a wide, radiant grin full of sunshine and happiness. I could practically feel a puzzle piece slotting into place.
Many years ago, we’d dreamed of building a life together. We’d wanted to do it all—get married, travel, buy a house, start a family…kids and dogs and endless chaos.
Sure, plans had changed or been delayed along the way. And while we’d weathered our share of disappointments and setbacks, we hadn’t given up. Look at us now…sitting on the floor of the house we’d bought with our new puppy. Maybe it wouldn’t happen tomorrow or even next year, but I had a strong feeling that someday, this dog would be our kids’ best friend.
No, I didn’t dare say any of that aloud. It wasn’t necessary, and truthfully, I was just happy to be in the moment.
two
“How’s Murphy?”
“He’s a maniac,” I reported with a laugh, nodding my thanks to the bartender and tapping my beer bottle to Curt’s. “Give me a sec, and I’ll bore you with the fifty thousand photos and videos we’ve taken so far.”
“Oh, boy, I can’t wait,” Curt deadpanned. “Just kidding. Bring it. I love that little guy, but I’ve already seen the twenty-five thousand pics online, and what I really want is to see Jack attempt to teach him how to fetch a tennis ball in between getting slimed with puppy licks. So I guess this is me inviting myself and my husband to hang out with Murphy.”
I rolled my eyes. “Come by on Saturday.”
My buddy huffed with faux indignance. “Maybe we’re busy.”
“Don’t get your undies in a twist, Curtster. We’ve only had Murph for a month. That means thirty days of getting up multiple times in the middle of the night to let him outside. I’m exhausted.”
“I get it. No offense, but you look tired too.”
“Gee, thanks. I believe it, though. I almost fell asleep in a partner meeting this morning.”
Curt snickered as he reached for a handful of fries. “Ouch. Consider it practice for…you know.”
Yeah, I knew what he meant, and I appreciated that he didn’t feel the need to tiptoe around a potentially awkward subject. Our friends had supported us through some tough times, and Curt was probably the one I leaned on the heaviest.
We’d been best friends since law school. Curt was the first person I’d ever told I was bi and head over heels for a guy. He’d been my co-best man with my brother at our wedding, and he was the first person I called if I needed to vent about work or life.
We made an effort to meet up at least once a week—on the basketball court, if we could get enough guys together for a quick weekend game, or at our favorite bar for a beer and a plate of salty fries. Sometimes our husbands would join us afterward for dinner, or we’d go to Curt and Jack’s and order takeout. That had been pre-Murphy, though.
Curt and his husband, Jack, had zero intention of becoming pet owners, but they were a thousand percent into being dog guncles. And…kid guncles. Maybe one day.
Honestly, I hadn’t thought much about kids lately. I had a huge contract on my desk with a ridiculous amount of red tape and confidentiality clauses that, of course, was due yesterday. And Aar and I had our hands full with a rambunctious puppy who stole socks and ate shoes, including the tassels on a pair of Aaron’s Prada loafers.
That hadn’t gone over well. I’d had to talk Aar off a ledge after that mishap. To be fair, he’d done the same for me when Murphy had gnawed a plank on our newly refurbished outdoor deck.
These days, we spent an inordinate amount of time comparing notes about what kind of mischief our Lab had gotten into.
“Matty, he ate a sprinkler head. Ate it. As in, tore it out of the ground, chomped his sharp fangs into the plastic till it was completely mangled, then played with it like it was a dead mouse. My fault, I know, but I was on a conference call and by the time I caught him, it was too late,” Aaron had groused a few days ago. “The little turd. He’s lucky he’s so darn cute. Did you see the adorable new pic I texted you? OMG. Adorbs!”