Page 51 of Tiger Lilies and Tight Ends

When Dean and I were preparing to move to DC, he said, “I guess it makes more sense for us to just live together. I don’t want to have to worry about being photographed every time I try to go to your place or when you come to mine.” It wasn’t a grand gesture of love or taking our relationship to the next level—it was a convenience thing. Not that I’m saying Tyler asking me to stay is because he loves me, but I feel it’s more like he wants me there, and that’s a really nice feeling.

“I do like your house, but I don’t want to be in your way.”

His house with his gorgeous fish tank, the homey feel, his dock for yoga and, well, him. I like seeing him every day.

“Do you feel like you’re in my way?” he asks.

“Not yet, but you never know,” I tell him, not wanting to voice how he hasn’t brought anyone home since I’ve been there, and I’m not sure I could stomach it if he did.

“You’re fine. I like having you there. I like being able to watch over you . . . not that you need it,” he tosses out. “It’s just nice to have you around.”

Those dancing butterflies begin to flap their wings in giant sweeping movements.

“I like being around you, too,” I tell him, and he rolls his lips between his teeth as he’s watching the road, then pops them free.

“Then it’s settled. You’re staying.”

“I guess I’m staying.”

At least for now.

About ten minutes later, we exit the expressway into the middle of nowhere. My eyes are wide open, as I have no idea where he’s taking us until he slows down to turn and pull through the gate of a farm titled: Happiness at the Lake.

“What are we doing here?” I ask as I look around. There are large old oak trees, an old Southern house with a wraparound porch and rocking chairs, two barns in front of us, a pavilion, and a lake behind all of that. There aren’t any other cars here, so I don’t know what’s going on.

“I did a thing,” he says, almost sheepishly.

I turn to face him better. “Elaborate.”

“After the team barbecue, you were a little down. I was worried about how you would be after the media blowup over the weekend. So I found this farm and they have a thing where you can rent a baby goat for the day or overnight, and well, I rented you a baby goat.”

His cheeks blot pink.

“You what?” I’m so shocked. My jaw drops open, and I could totally catch flies.

“Obviously, you can’t keep it, but I saw how you were yesterday, and although you’re doing better than I thought, this might reset your mind and cheer you up.”

I should be taking a moment to think about how thoughtful he was to come up with this because he was worried about me, but instead, I’m totally stuck on baby goats.

“You can rent baby goats?” I tear my eyes away from him and look back out over the property. Off in the distance is a fenced area with a few full-sized goats grazing.

“Yes. At this place at least. I was going to go pick one up and just bring it home to surprise you, but then I thought you’d probably like to pick out which goat you wanted instead.”

“I get to pick one out?” I ask in awe.

“Yes.” A smile tips up one side of his mouth. “But not keep it,” he reminds me.

“Tyler,” I say breathlessly, “I’m so excited, I don’t know what to do with myself.”

“When you first moved in, I found you watching videos of baby goats, and when I asked you why, you said it’s because they make you happy. Well, I was thinking a real baby goat might make you even happier. I like making you happy.”

Not being able to help myself, I lean over and reach for him. He willingly lets me hug him. He’s warm and smells like soap, and my eyes prick with grateful and thankful tears.

“You’re a good man, Tyler Quinn.”

“I try to be,” he says quietly.

Pulling back, I look at him as seriously as I can. “Chickens make me happy, too.”