Slate. He’s howling. It sounds more like a scream.
Holland lets his head fall back on the pillow. “This has to be a joke.” I can hear the exasperation in his voice.
“What’s wrong?”
“He’s going to do that until he gets fed. It will only get worse.” His voice is flat. “I created a monster.”
I wonder if we can tune it out. I reach down to kiss Holland. As our lips touch, Slate lets out this pathetic sounding howl. If I didn’t know better, I’d think something was seriously wrong. But, no…he’s just hangry. I can relate to that.
We pull apart, both of us breathing heavily.
Holland sighs in defeat.
“I guess it’s time for breakfast,” I say as I put a quick kiss on Holland’s lips and get off the bed.
“I’ll meet you down there. I need a minute.”
Chapter Fifty
SLATE HAS BETRAYED ME. After I was in an appropriate state to come downstairs, I filled his food bowl. He has the audacity to stay in Ivy’s lap. She’s petting him while they are on the couch.
I hate to admit it, but he’s a damn cute cockblock.
“Pancakes?”
“Yes! Pancakes.” Ivy agrees as fast as I thought she would.
While I make breakfast, I can hear Ivy talking to Slate. She’s using that voice, the one that fits both babies and dogs. I’m a gooey mess. Not from the pancake batter—which isn’t helping—but from how much I love hearing her in the background.
Fuck. This will hurt when she leaves. Whenever that is.
When we sit down to eat, Slate also decides it’s time for his breakfast. Not like the dog was howling thirty minutes ago, interrupting Ivy and me.
“This smells good,” she says as she holds her knife and fork in her hands and hits them playfully on the table.
I set the French press coffee on the table between us. Grazing her shoulder with my hand.
We’ve been like this all morning. Finding ways to touch each other.
“Coffee?”
She nodsenthusiastically. “You never have to ask me if I want coffee. The answer is always yes.”
I pour her a cup and set it next to her plate. She reaches for my hand and squeezes it. “Since you’re weird about thank-yous…” She jokes, winking as she says it.
In between bites, she asks, “What’s the plan for today?” I swear it’s her favorite question.
“We could hike? Something like the one we did earlier this week.”
“I’m interested. I need to move my body. Didn’t do much of that the last few days.” She tips her head, side to side, stretching her neck.
“Should we do the same trail we did? Is this one much harder?”
I expected questions.
“I think it’ll be fun to change it up. It’s not much harder at all.” I reassure her. “The key difference is that this one is a little longer.”
She doesn’t look convinced. Instead, she pulls her phone out and is paying attention to something on the screen. “It looks like it’s going to rain,” she says. “Is that still fine?”
