“What?” I slowly rose to my feet.
“You and Cuddles . . . on the same porch . . . clothing intact. We need to write this down or take a picture.”
“Right,” was all I got out before he’d climbed the steps, thrown his arms around my neck, and planted a hungry kiss on my lips.
“Ew! Daddy’s kissing a boy,” rang out from behind, causing us both to laugh and look Debbie’s way. Cuddles was on her back enjoying belly rubs, while Debbie peeked up at us, a bright smile scrawled across her tiny face. “Go on. Get ya some, Willie Wee.”
I spat out a laugh, coating Theo in spit.
“Oh, crap, Theo—”
He wheeled about, scrunched up his nose, then shot forward and licked the side of my face from neck to ear.
“Ew!” I said, recoiling.
“You spit on me. A lick is the least you get, buster.”
“You called him buster!” Debbie crooned. “He’s Willie Wee, Dad. C’mon.”
Theo and I laughed as I reached up and wiped his slobber away. “Come on, let’s get Cuddles fed so we can have our own dinner.”
Chapter 31
Theo
Four days had passed since Mrs. Chen’s surgery, and we still didn’t know why she needed the procedure—whatever it was—in the first place. Jeremiah had called the hospital every day check on her, but she’d been frustratingly vague about the details, insisting only that “everything went fine” and that she’d be “right as rain in no time.”
Today she was finally coming home. Jeremiah suggested we bring her dinner when he went over to feed Cuddles. That seemed like the neighborly thing to do—and honestly, I was curious to see how the ongoing drama between Jeremiah and his canine nemesis was progressing.
“Button, remember that Mrs. Chen just had surgery,” I said as we crossed the street, carrying a casserole dish that contained what I hoped was an appetizing tuna noodle bake. “She’s going to be tired and probably sore, so we need to be really gentle and quiet, okay?”
“I can be quiet,” Debbie protested, then immediately proved herself wrong by calling out, “Mrs. Chen! We brought you food!” as soon as we reached the front porch.
Cuddles trotted up to the gate with what could actually be described as enthusiasm, her tail wagging the moment she spotted Jeremiah.
“Well, look at that,” I murmured, watching in amazement as Jeremiah reached over the fence to scratch behind her ears. “You two have come a long way.”
“We’ve reached an understanding. I offer unending bribes and food, and she leaves my uniforms alone,” he said, grinning as Cuddles leaned into his touch. “Haven’t we, girl?”
As if to prove she still had standards, Cuddles gave his hand a gentle nip that made him yank back, but her tail never stopped wagging and her ears remained relaxed. It looked like more of “that’s enough for now” than the aggressive “get away from my territory” of their early encounters.
Mrs. Chen appeared in the doorway wearing a bathrobe and moving with the careful, measured steps of someone whose body had recently been through trauma. Her face was pale, and there were dark circles under her eyes that spoke of pain and medication and interrupted sleep.
“You didn’t have to do this,” she said, though her smile was genuine as she ushered us inside. “I could have managed.”
“Nonsense, you need to get off your feet, missy,” Jeremiah scolded warmly. I couldn’t believe the transformation between woman, dog, and delivery man. “And when’s the last time you had a proper meal?”
“Define proper,” she said with a weak laugh.
The living room had been rearranged to accommodate her recovery. A nest of pillows and blankets lay spread on the couch, a TV tray table sat within easy reach, and what looked like enough prescription bottles to stock a small pharmacy werelined up on the coffee table like toy soldiers prepared to shoot any infection that dared approach.
“Mrs. Chen, are you feeling better?” Debbie asked, her voice dropping to what she probably thought was a whisper but was really just slightly less than her normal volume.
“Much better, sweet pea, but I’m still real weak. I think those drugs knock me out more than the surgery. But thank you for asking.”
We settled her on the couch with the casserole and some fresh bread I’d picked up from the bakery, setting everything up on the TV tray so she could eat comfortably, but even the minor effort of sitting upright and making conversation was taxing her.
“This is delicious,” she said after a few bites, though I noticed she was eating slowly and in small portions. “You didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”
