“What? I think I can call him that.”
I tilt up to kiss his cheek. “He’s staying the night at the kennel.”
“A kennel?” he asks with deep disapproval. “No son of mine is going to be spending the night in a kennel.”
His voice rises a few octaves, and I rush to cover his mouth, the laughter still bubbling up in my stomach. “It’s a really nice kennel, and it’s family-run. They even have a camera set up so I can watch him 24/7.”
His fake indignance falters, and he covers my hand with his, placing a soft kiss into my palm. “We’re picking him up tomorrow?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I answer. “Bright and early.”
“Good.” He pecks my lips with a playful kiss and looks around, noticing the lively party that has yet to die down. “So can we just Irish goodbye this thing or…”
“Ready to go back to my room?”
He nods eagerly. “Please?”
“Come on.” I lead him out the side exit where I noticed some of the wait staff coming and going. My parents might get upset that I snuck out early without the excuse of a fussy child or feigned illness, but I’ll deal with them in the morning. Tonight, I’m making up for some lost time with my boyfriend.
Grace
EPILOGUE
“The floor looks recently done.”
I nod, taking in the craftsman-style crown molding and the alabaster white walls. I can smell the freshly dried paint fumes as we roam from empty room to empty room. Andrew struts in a wide circle like he’s gathering the attention of a large boardroom using the technique of establishing dominance. Like he has something up his sleeve.
“And did you see the backyard?” he adds. “Buster would love it.”
I swivel on my heels under the threshold of the master bathroom. “I did.”
“So?”
“So what?”
Andrew points his index finger in the air and twirls it around like a lasso. “The house.”
“What about the house?” I’m met with silence, forcing me to fill in the gaps. “For us?”
He smirks. “Yes.”
“Since when are we looking for a house?”
Andrew shrugs as his arms wrap around my waist. “Since we saw the open house sign with a very charming realtor on it.”
“Do you think those are veneers?”
“Possibly,” Andrew answers, humoring me. “Or his teeth could naturally look like his gums are clamped on a large white horseshoe.”
I avoid the segue, curiosity forcing our conversation back on track. He can’t be serious. “Are we really considering this?”
“I mean, you’ve been saying you want to put your condo on the market. Put some feelers out to see if you get a bite.”
“So I can get rid of the one my ex-husband was legally bound to give me. To have a fresh start,” I argue, “not to buy a house. I can’t afford something like this on my salary.”
He lets go of me, running his hand over the marble bathroom counter. The one equipped with a double sink. Something that would be much more fitting to our bedtime routine on the nights he spends at my condo. “Or…we could get it together.”
“You want to buy a house?”
