It’s almost disgusting how smiley I am with Brady on my mind.
Almost.
And I wouldn’t change a single damn thing.
“What about Buttercup? He’s got a kinda yellow-tan belly,” Freya decides, peering into the cat’s eyes. It glares back, annoyed and gold. “Oh, and his eyes ... Mom, it’s gotta be Buttercup!”
I know that look from my little girl. I step in front of her before she can reach for his scraggly fur.
“Careful, honey. He needs a bath, and he’s pretty irritable. You don’t want to get scratched. We’re going to have to sedate him for a bit.”
“Okay, fine. But can we bring him home?” she asks hopefully.
At this point, I think she knows I can’t resist.
“Tell you what. If his parasite test comes back clean and he looks like he can behave for a few hours—and you promise to keep him in thepet room without visiting unless your dad or I are with you—I’llthinkabout it. Now go ask Trish for a sucker. I’ll be with you in a second.”
Besides the lollipop, Trish rocks at entertaining my little nugget.
Freya prefers me, of course, but Trish has turned into this cool office aunt who listens patiently while Freya talks her ear off about every animal known to man.
Buttercup’s tail swishes as he watches us getting ready to deliver the last shot.
“You spoil her, Lena. Careful, or we’ll be handing her the keys to this place someday,” Dr. Vetol says cheerfully, gently grabbing the cat.
“Yeah, yeah. But we have several dogs and a cat recuperating in observation back there, so I figured taking him home would lighten the load.” I grumble, but I already know what I’m about to do.
Luckily, there’s a bonus.
I get to see how Brady will react toanotherstray after he’s put his foot down with expanding our zoo.
I find out the instant we get home almost two hours later with “Buttercup” clean, dry, and groggy in his carrier.
A decadent-smelling seafood alfredo punches me in the nose. Brady just finished making dinner in the kitchen, and he stands against the island with little Noah tucked in his arms.
After greeting our three dogs, who all bound up to lick my face, I’m only in the kitchen for three seconds before Noah sees me and throws up his chubby little arms.
“Mama!”
I laugh, putting down the cat carrier at the entrance to the mudroom and accepting the welcome burden of my second child.
We agreed on two kids. Hard limit.
Don’t get me wrong, I love them to death. But having these two precious creatures takes up more time than you can imagine, especiallywhen we don’t do the typical rich-people thing where we hand them off to nannies for fourteen hours a day.
While Freya has her dad’s looks, Noah takes after me. Snubby round nose, light-brown eyes, and dark hair with chestnut stripes that’s just starting to curl. A lot like mine did until I hit puberty and my hair straightened out more.
It breaks my happy heart a little every time I look at him.
“How many fires did you put out today, Sass?” Brady leans over to kiss my cheek, bathing me in his glorious scent, which mingles weirdly well with the seafood pasta.
“Not enough. Little Frey fell in love.” I glance back at the carrier holding Buttercup, who’s still tipsy and half asleep with the sedation wearing off.
“Oh shit. Again?” Brady blinks, then slaps his forehead dramatically.
Freya giggles, already trying to fumble the carrier door open.
Buttercup yowls a loud warning.
