I’m sprawled across my couch, ESPN muted on the TV, half-heartedly scrolling through plays Coach sent over. But I can’t focus. My mind keeps drifting back to the feeling of Nicole’s hand in mine.
I’ve barely been in LA for two months. I’ve spent most of that time complaining about everything that isn’t Texas. And yet…
A sharp knock at my door jolts me from my thoughts.
When I pull the door open, Nicole’s standing there, her platinum blonde hair piled in a messy bun, wearing leggings and an oversized sweater that slips off one shoulder. Her cheeks are flushed as if she ran here, and she’s clutching her tablet to her chest like it contains state secrets.
“Dom! Thank goodness you’re home.” She bounces on her toes, practically vibrating with energy. “I just found the most amazing thing, and I thought of you immediately, and I know this is probably weird, but I couldn’t wait.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Slow down, Nic. What’s going on?”
“Princess!” she exclaims, as if that explains everything. She steps closer without thinking, and I steady her by the waist, my hands landing there like they’ve always known the shape of her. She doesn’t pull away. If anything, she leans in.
I raise an eyebrow. “Princess?”
“Yes! She needs a home, and I instantly thought of your grandfather’s farm in Texas, and it seemed so perfect that I had to come right over.” She thrusts her tablet toward me, but it’s locked and the screen is black.
“Whoa, let’s rewind.” I hold up my hands. “Who’s Princess?”
“Oh!” She looks momentarily confused, then laughs. “Princess is a pig. The most amazing pig you’ve ever seen.”
I blink at her. “A pig.”
“Not just any pig.” Her eyes are wide and serious. “A very special pig who needs a very special home.”
I try to process this information. Nicole is at my door, out of breath, excited about … a pig. One she wants to send to my grandfather’s farm. In Texas.
It’s objectively ridiculous.
And yet, the way her eyes light up when she talks—even about a pig—makes my chest warm in a way that’s becoming familiar. I realize I’d listen to her talk about literally anything if it meant watching her like this.
“Do you want to come in?” I step aside, gesturing to my apartment. “You can tell me all about this very special pig.”
“Yes! Thank you!” She darts past me, leaving behind a trail of floral shampoo scent in her wake.
I close the door behind her and catch myself smiling at how easily Nicole moves through my space, like she belongs here.
“So, remember how I told you I found Cocoa on the Fur-Ever Homes Facebook page?” she asks, dropping onto my couch and unlocking her tablet. She pats the cushion beside her. “They also have this forum. It’s where everyone goes when their rescue pet is spiraling … or when they are.” She smirks. “Anyway, Fur-Ever Homes posted about Princess this morning. Her owner passed away, and they’ve been struggling to place her. Most people don’t know what to do with her.”
“And Princess is the pig.” I settle next to Nicole, close enough that our knees touch. She doesn’t move away. Instead, she angles toward me, her shoulder brushing my arm like it’s an unconscious decision.
“Yes! Her owner was an eccentric but incredibly tender-hearted older woman, and Princess was her whole world.” She swipes rapidly at her tablet. “She’s a pot-bellied pig—I think she was supposed to be mini, but she’s actually around seventy pounds now…”
“That happens a lot,” I comment. “People buy ‘teacup’ pigs not realizing they’ll grow.”
Nicole looks up, surprised. “You know about pigs?”
I shrug. “I know some things. My best friend in elementary school raised them for 4-H.”
“Perfect!” She beams at me. “Then you already have pig experience! This is even better than I thought.”
“Whoa, hold on.” I hold up a hand. “I never said I was going to adopt a pig. I just said I know a bit about them.”
“Not for you,” she clarifies. “For your grandfather’s farm. Didn’t you say he has horses and chickens? What’s one little pig?”
“Seventy pounds isn’t exactly little,” I point out.
“Compared to a horse?” She nudges my shoulder with hers. “Come on, just look at her profile before you say no. She’s amazing.” She turns the tablet toward me, and I’m greeted with a professional-quality photo of a pig wearing a pink tutu and what appears to be a tiara.
