The boxes wiggle again.
Grayson gasps. “Is that?—”
Rosie squeals. “It’s breathing!”
Sawyer clears his throat, fighting a grin. “Go on.”
Ellie rips into the first box. The lid pops open. A spotted head bursts out.
The scream that follows could register on emergency equipment.
“A puppy?!” Ellie shrieks.
Grayson tears into the second box, revealing another wriggling Dalmatian who immediately launches himself forward and knocks Grayson flat.
Rosie claps both hands over her mouth as Sawyer gently opens the third.
The smallest puppy blinks up at her with enormous black-spotted ears.
“For me?” Rosie whispers.
“For you,” Sawyer confirms.
Three puppies. Three squealing children. Three tails wagging like they’ve found heaven.
The father of these chaos machines is Sparks — the Dalmatian who rode with me on the fire engine the day I married this man. Sparks lounges near the doorway now like he personally orchestrated this entire legacy.
Ellie scoops her puppy up immediately.
“I’m naming her Inferno,” she declares.
“Of course you are,” I say dryly.
Grayson wrestles with his, laughing as it chews on his sleeve. “Mine’s Sir Barks-A-Lot!”
Sawyer groans softly. Rosie cradles hers like it’s porcelain.
“Her name is Princess Sprinkles,” she announces solemnly.
Sawyer presses his fingers to his forehead.
“Sprinkles,” he repeats.
Rosie nods. “She’s sparkly inside.”
The puppies immediately abandon dignity and start attacking each other’s ears. Inferno latches onto Sir Barks-A-Lot’s tail. Sprinkles tumbles sideways and licks Ellie’s chin enthusiastically.
The living room becomes a tornado of fur and shrieks.
I step back into Sawyer’s chest without thinking. He wraps his arms around me from behind automatically, grounding me in the center of it all.
“You did this,” I whisper.
“You wanted dogs.”
“I wanted one.”
He hums against my ear. “You married a man who doesn’t do things halfway.”
