“Not that I don’t love this, but what’s it for?”
“I gotta have a reason for doing something nice for you?”
“No.”
Jamie is a natural caregiver—the homemade dinners, volunteering at his girls’ school, cuddling up with the new calf…
Kiki and Honey are sure to have a life filled with love.
I want this.
“Look up.” He tilts my chin toward the skylight.
My mouth drops open at the view of the night sky above, where green ribbons of light slither, impossibly bright, against the stars.
“The northern lights,” I gasp, transfixed.
“Heard there was a chance they were going to show tonight. I was worried we might miss them, but of course you were right on time.”
“This is…” I’m speechless. I may cry again. “This is the nicest date someone’s planned for me.”
“You deserve it, Joy.” He pulls me back, taking my hot cocoa and laying me back to stare up at the night sky with him.
In New York, you’re lucky to see a handful of stars through the light pollution. But here? It’s like the entire universe has opened up just for us.
We watch in silence, and I’m acutely aware of every point where our bodies touch. The solid weight of him beside me.
“I had this Havanese patient, black and white, the sassiest little thing you’ve ever seen. She’d only let me examine her if I sang the nursery rhyme‘The Man in the Moon.’”
“You sang to a dog?”
“Every single checkup.” I’m grinning now. “And this Maine Coon, a massive gray guy named Mr. Aurora Catalis.” I chuckle. “Who absolutely hated everyone except his owner. Would hiss and swipe at the techs, but the second this seventy-year-old man walked in, the cat would just melt into a purring puddle.”
Jamie props his head up on his elbow, watching me. “That’s why you do it, huh? The animals.”
“Yeah.” The admission comes easier than expected. “They’re honest. They don’t pretend. If they’re scared, they show it. If they love you, they show that too.”
“Reminds me of Kiki and Honey.”
“Tell me some stories about them?” I ask, and he does.
He tells me about when they were newborns and both had colic and how Kiki never crawled, just butt-scooted around the house.
The lights disappear from the sky, flickering in and out.
Jamie’s arm is wrapped around me when he chuckles. “The girls pulled this scheme on me last year. Switched places for two entire days. Wore each other’s clothes, did each other’s hair. I didn’t figure it out until Kiki—pretending to be Honey—asked for pepperoni pizza. Honey’s been vegetarian since she was six.”
I laugh. “That’s diabolical.”
“They were so proud of themselves.” His smile is pure affection. “But I got them back. Started giving them tooth fairy money in a thousand pennies. Took them forever to count it.”
“That’s really beautiful, Jamie.”
“I just want them to feel loved.” He meets my eyes. “Even when things are hard and I can’t always afford to buy them new winter coats. Even when I screw up. I want them to know they’re loved.”
“They do.” I say it with certainty. “Trust me. They absolutely do.”
My body wants a replay of two mornings ago. I bite my lip, staring at him. He stares back.
