His eyes flicked up to mine, brightening with that spark I knew all too well. “You’re a genius. I know exactly what we should do.”
In a few minutes we were piled into Ethan’s recently fixed up SUV, Adrian calling shotgun, which left Miles and me in the back with the kids. The city was alive with that late-December energy, snow crunching under tires, the glow of holiday lights reflecting off the wet sidewalk. The kids were buzzing with excitement, butthe anticipation in the car wasn’t just for a ride—it was for the surprise Ethan had promised.
When we pulled up at the shelter, the kids practically leapt out of the car. The crisp air smelled faintly of hay and animals, and the building had that cozy, welcoming energy. Lights twinkled on the exterior, casting the kind of golden glow that made everything feel magical.
“Surprise,” Ethan announced, holding the doors open. “Who’s ready to pick out a puppy?”
Sadie’s eyes went wide immediately, and I had to grip her mittened hands to keep her from darting inside. “This is… this is… best day ever” she squealed.
She somehow managed to weasel free, spun in a circle, and bolted inside.
Miles and Adrian followed at a more measured pace, their usual banter echoing softly as they peeked at the kennels. I trailed behind Ethan, smiling at the sight of him with the kids, how naturally protective he was, even more so now that we were on limited time.
Ethan led us to a counter, where he handed over an envelope to the shelter manager. “We’d like to make a donation. In my niece’s name, Sadie Cross.”
The manager looked at the check, and her jaw dropped. “This is— Thank you. Thank you so much, sir.”
“Can I get my puppy now?” Sadie tugged on his jacket.
“Yes,” he said, smiling at her. “Whichever one you want.”
The next half hour was chaos in the best possible way. Sadie moved between the kennels with indecision, ignoring Will and Emma’s suggestions about what to choose. She crouched down to let them sniff her gloves, held some of them in her lap, and fora while it seemed as if she’d try to get away with not choosing, and take each one of them home with her.
I felt her pain. God knew I would’ve hated being forced to choose between either one of the men.
Adrian wandered over to me at one point, shaking his head with a soft chuckle. “Any idea what got into Ethan?”
“His brother called,” I replied, keeping my voice low. He nodded, realization hitting home. “He just wants to enjoy the last day with the kids.”
“Last day?” Now that same disappointment was all over Adrian’s face, and it was getting harder and harder to keep mine at bay. Only a few weeks, and those three little faces had crept into my heart.
“I think we have a winner,” Miles’ voice rang out. We gathered around Sadie, sitting cross-legged with a new best friend in her lap.”
“Is this the one making the cut?” I asked, crouching beside her.
“He told me he wants to come home with me.”
Ethan bent down to scratch the little guy behind his ears. “Did he happen to tell you his name too?”
“It should be something about Christmas,” Will said. “Call him Snowy.”
“He’s brown,” Emma frowned at him. “It’s gotta be Cocoa, obviously.”
A beat of silence, then Sadie held up her new best friend and announced, “Sprinkles McFluff.”
“Sprinkles McFluff,” Ethan repeated, as if testing the words on his tongue. “I… I kind of love it.”
“It’s perfect,” I said, ruffling Sadie’s hair. “Sprinkles McFluff it is.” The puppy wriggled happily, tail wagging as if acknowledging its new identity.
“This is the best Christmas ever.” Sadie hugged the puppy to her chest like she’d probably never let go. “He’s the best dog ever.”
“And the best dog ever should get some new stuff.” Adrian jingled a bright collar over by the supplies.
Emma shot toward the aisle of pet supplies like she’d been launched, grabbing the brightest leash on the rack. “This one matches his ears. Look at his ears,” she said, holding it up to the puppy’s face. Sprinkles McFluff tried to lick the nylon, which only made her more convinced she’d chosen correctly.
Will snatched a pack of tennis balls before anyone could tell him those were for dogs who understood fetch. “He’ll learn,” he said, tossing one lightly from hand to hand. “Or I’ll teach him. I’m basically his uncle.”
Sadie had already migrated to the bowls, comparing pastel colors like her life depended on it. “He needs two. One for water. One for food. Maybe three. One for treats.” She lined them up in a perfect row at her feet, proudly presenting them to me.
