Page 154 of My Favorite Hero

“But I’m hungry,” I griped.

“I’ll go make you sandwiches while you do the lights. And fresh coffee.”

“Cookies?”

“Yes.”

I turned and headed out, then stopped. I was supposed to be angry. Yelling. Laying down the law. Not going and finishing the lights. I turned back and looked at her. “Did you just play me?”

She smiled. “I love you. About that tree⁠—”

“Not happening!” I roared and stomped out.

I cursed all the way up the ladder, knowing that very soon, in the near future, I’d be hanging lights in that fucking tree.

Because if I didn’t, she would. And God knew what would happen then.

But I was making the chief help me.

Payback was a bitch.

Two years later

My phone buzzed with a text, and I grinned as I read it.

I need ice cream.

My pixie always needed ice cream these days.

I swung into the grocery store parking lot and texted her back.

Anything else?

Her reply was swift.

Some spicy Doritos would be good.

I laughed as I slid from the new SUV. Her cravings were wild and changed daily. Ice cream and Doritos were a better combination than the peanut butter and pickle sandwiches. Sort of. As long as she didn’t use the chips as a spoon with the ice cream. I shuddered thinking about it.

On it.

Bag in hand, I got home, admiring the house as I pulled up. It happened every time. It was even better than I had imagined it when I had bought it from Lou. The double doors were welcoming, the porch back to one long expanse.

And of course, the wind chimes that hung on either side of the steps, singing their song, as my wife called it.

Inside, I stopped in the central hall, dropping my keys in the bowl. Above the table was the picture of Lou and Gerard that Casey had redone. In the corner behind glass were their wedding rings. Casey had artfully placed the smaller ring inside the larger one and added some wild flowers from the garden to set them off. It was sentimental and perfect.

I turned at the sound of the little thumps, smiling as our latest additions to the house tore through the living room to greet me.

Because why not adopt a new kitten and a puppy weeks before a baby was set to arrive?

Wojo barked, excited and overstimulated as usual, his tail going so fast he was almost toppling over. Catfish, or Fish, as we called her, trotted behind him, never far from his side. She was solid gray with a white stripe on her face, giving her a comical look. Wojo was a mixed breed. Small, covered in gold fuzz, and talked a lot.

They’d been brought up in the same house and put up for adoption at the local pet place. Casey saw them, fell in love, and because it appeared I couldn’t deny my pregnant wife anything, they became ours since Casey couldn’t bear to separate them. Barney and Miller accepted them easily enough, and now we had a partial cast from the ’70s sitcom, with Wojciehowicz being represented by a furry, yappy little dog and Fish by a slow-moving gray cat. The names were Casey’s idea and, again, no was an impossibility. Besides, it was rather cute.

I bent and scratched ears and tummies, then headed to the kitchen, knowing my wife would be there, waiting.

She was at the table, her feet propped up, bowl ready. I bent and kissed her, then sat on the chair, lifting her feet to my lap. I tried not to react as she scooped ice cream, then did use the spicy chips as a spoon, biting into the strange concoction and sighing in happiness.