Otherwise, she’s been a good sport, especially since I tied the scarf over her eyes far earlier than necessary because Remy couldn’t stop laughing about it. I can’t pass up an opportunity to make him giggle.
His arm flings out in front of him. “I see it, Da—”
“Shh.” I raise my index finger to my mouth as I cut the engine, just in time because my little man still hasn’t mastered handling anything in a covert manner. “Not yet, Rem.”
Mercy’s lips are folded, snuffing out her amusement. That joy blanketing her takes my breath away for a second.
The last three months have been excruciatingly beautiful.
She claimed her place by my side after that day in counting room two. But the months that followed have been rough—ups and downs, trials and triumphs. The night of the Prohibition Ball, I’d promised her we would tackle one day at a time, and we’ve been living that truth since then, but even more so since she lost Emma.
Sometimes, she relives it all, gets stuck in her head, and retreats into the darkness those monsters thrust upon her. The sight of her struggling is nearly more than I can bear because I can’t fix it. And I’m so fucking desperate to take it from her. Healing doesn’t come in a neat and tidy package though. It’s messy and unpredictable. But I’m honored to be the one she’s leaning on. And grateful that I’ve been able to surround her with a family invested in her well-being. My brothers take every opportunity they can to celebrate her milestones.
And today is a good day, so I’m forging ahead with my surprise even though I debated about it all week long.
“Hang on a minute.” I squeeze her thigh, jump out of the car, open her door, and help her out before unbuckling Remy and guiding both to where I want them. “Ready.”
When she whips off her blindfold, she stares at the long, dirt road, and her nose crinkles. “It’s a street.”
Before I can explain, chaos ensues. Thanks to my brothers and a pathetic yip emanating from the creature they were in charge of watching.
Remy squeals as the ten-week-old white bulldog immediately pegs him as a buddy, barking and jumping—albeit two inches off the ground. Strong effort though.
He’s got floppy ears—one white and one brindle to match his spots.
Mercy’s eyes widen, and it’s hard to say if what follows is gratitude, disbelief, or a reprimand. “You got him a dog?”
Declining to answer since Jax—who just sprinted out here—and Remy are rolling around on the lawn with the most adorable puppy in existence and it’s obvious only a sadist would make them leave it behind, I shrug.
“You don’t know if you got him a dog?” She’s headed into attorney-interrogation mode, hands on her hips. “But Jax came early to meet us here so we could all see the dog that belongs to …” She glances over her shoulder. “Oh, does it belong to someone else?”
I’m torn between pleading the Fifth and lawyering her back, so I settle on pointing to the jubilant trio. “It looks like he’s theirs now.”
She takes in the exuberant scene unfolding before us, the shrieks and licks and laughter that are challenging to begrudge.
“It’s fine. He is cute.” She smirks, only mildly miffed now, and rests her hand on my forearm.
Doesn’t matter how often it happens, I really fucking love it when she touches me. Still makes me feel like a giddy teenager.
Unfortunately, she moves that hand and flattens it against her sternum. “He’s just like Remy’s stuffed animal.”
“That was the idea.”
She squats, petting the puppy and beaming, like I knew she would, because she can’t get enough of the bouncing furball, her little guy so excited, or even Jax’s lazy grin. “You said I’d never guess my birthday gift, and you were right. I didn’t see this coming.”
I slide my hands into my pockets, gripping my dice. “That’s not your birthday gift. That’s Remy’s present for the adoption going through.”
Her face twists into a blend of exasperation and mirth. “You had a circus to celebrate that. I think we’re good.”
The adoption was finalized a few days ago, and the event was a no-brainer. It was a contemporary circus, like Cirque du Soleil.La Lune Noire already had them scheduled for this month. I just booked out the night for our family and had the performers change a few elements so it was geared toward Remy.
“Well then, the puppy is because he gave me a new title.”
Remy called me Daddy that night. The kid can have any goddamn thing he wants. I might actually buy him a zoo, but I’ll hold off on announcing that.
As if he knows the power he wields, he squawks something aboutRyker-friendbeing his daddy, which has Mercy stifling her amusement again.
She stands back up, brushes her palms on her jeans, and peers at me beneath the fringe of her lashes. Anticipation encircles her like a halo against the late afternoon sun.
