“He’ll be fine. Just stay back, Freya,” I warn, checking the cat for a chip once the doctor finishes.
“What’s his name, Mom?”
“For now, it’s John Doe.” Dr. Vetol chuckles warmly.
Ever since I took over Pawsome Hearts, he’s been the perfect partner in business and medicine, bringing an infectious humor and the kindest bedside manner to the wildest beasts who walk through our doors.
“John Doe? That’s boring! He needs a better name. Let’s give him one, Mom!”
“Let’s not just now,” I say sharply, biting back a smile.
“But everyone deserves a cool name, even the strays.”
I sigh. “Freya, we both know what will happen if I let you name him.”
Dr. Vetol laughs again, inspecting the cat’s ears for mites one more time.
Freya pulls an innocent look that rivals a cartoon chipmunk.
“What? What will happen?” She whispers breathlessly.
“You’ll want to keep him, and we can’t.”
“Keep him?” She claps her hands delightedly. “Wow, great idea! But you should name him, Mommy.”
I look down at the tabby, who eyes me with all the disgust a cat can muster—and for this boy, it’s a metric ton.
“I don’t think he likes me, honey. He’s a little rough around the edges. Who knows how long he’s been out there.”
“Well, yeah! But John Doe, that’s being mean,” she says, rolling her eyes.
I mock glare at her. “I knew it was a mistake, bringing you to work.”
“But I had to come for school,” she says sheepishly.
True, unfortunately.
She’s taking after me, growing up camera shy. Every time her teachers give her a project that involves her parents’ jobs, it’s never any contest who she picks to shadow.
The puppies and kittens only sweeten the deal.
“You,” I say, “are your father’s girl. You inherited his charm.”
She beams wickedly. “I know!”
Coming from me, that’s never an insult.
We’re almost a decade in, and I don’t think I’ll ever get over how much I adore Brady. Having a daughter changed things, yes, especially when I look at her and realize I’d die for this little cherub in an instant.
Best of all, I don’t have to. Not when I’m married to the hottest, happiest billionaire beast in Seattle.
With Brady, it’s been a total joy, showing Freya what a healthy, loving relationship looks like.
“Hey, Mom?” Freya pushes off her chair and comes toward me, head cocked to one side. “You’re smiling again.”
The cat yowls miserably as the doc finishes looking over a few last scrapes on his legs, and I go back to work, checking the sedative shot we’ve already prepped. He’s going to need to go under while we rinse him off in the big metal sink if we want to avoid getting ripped to pieces.
Occupational hazard of marital bliss. Sometimes you forget what you’re doing and start spontaneously daydreaming about getting home to your hubby.
