Page 36 of Always Almost You

The dog emitted a sound somewhere between a sigh and a snore. His lips fluttered as he exhaled.

“You’re the best traveling companion I’ve ever had,” Mike said. “You’ve been out cold since we left Raleigh.” He checked the dashboard clock. They were thirty minutes ahead of schedule because they hadn’t stopped along the way.

The familiar house came into view. Lights glowed warmly in every downstairs window. Candles flickered in the darkened panes on the second floor. An oversized evergreen wreath with a red velvet bow hung, as it always had, on the front door. Whitewashed rocking chairs lined the wraparound porch, draped in red plaid throws. Velvet pillows embroidered with Merry Christmas, Ho Ho Ho, and ’Tis the Season adorned the wooden bench to the left of the door.

Mike pulled into the driveway and paused before shutting off the engine. His childhood home radiated love, warmth, and security. His architectural training had shaped his own aesthetic of clean lines, modern materials, and expansive glass, but he’d never stopped chasing this feeling. He wanted his own house to wrap around its inhabitants like an embrace.

Headlights flashed in his rearview mirror. Gwen’s minivan rolled into the driveway behind him. He unbuckled and stepped out just as his brother-in-law cut the engine. The sliding doors of the minivan flew open. “Uncle Mike!”

Ryan and Remy, his seven- and nine-year-old nephews, launched themselves at him. He bent and swept both boys into a hug, laughing as they almost knocked him over.

Gwen joined them, kissing his cheek. “Mom said you got a late start from Raleigh,” she said. “I’m shocked you beat us.”

“The drive was a breeze,” Mike replied. “I think I used up all my bad travel karma yesterday.”

“No sense standing out here,” Gwen said. “Mom’s probably in the kitchen, or she’d already be waiting for you on the porch.”

Mike turned back toward the SUV. “I’ve got something to bring in,” he said.

“I’ll grab your luggage,” his brother-in-law offered.

“Still en route,” Mike said. “All I’ve got is a backpack.” He hesitated. Then he turned back toward them, drawing the moment out just a beat. “I may have … brought someone home for Christmas.”

Gwen arched a brow and moved toward the car. “You left … her … in the car?”

“It’s not a her,” Mike said, opening the back door. “It’s a him.” He reached in and rested a hand on the sleeping dog’s upturned belly.

The boys pressed against Mike, peering into the back seat. “It’s a dog!” they shouted in unison.

Buddy cracked one eye open and lifted his head groggily.

“Come on, sleepyhead,” Mike said. “Time to meet your extended family.”

Buddy pushed himself upright, shook once, and turned toward the cluster of eager faces.

“Meet Buddy,” Mike said.

The boys erupted into delighted chaos, their small hands reaching, poking, and petting.

Buddy stood patiently through the onslaught, tail wagging in wide, thumping arcs.

“Oh my gosh,” Gwen said, looking from the dog to her brother. “Does Mom know about this?”

Mike shook his head. “He was a stray I found at the hotel in Raleigh last night.”

Gwen tilted her head. “So, you adopted him.”

“I took him to a vet this morning to check for a microchip. He didn’t have one. They think he’s been on his own for a while.”

Gwen ran a hand along Buddy’s glossy coat. “He looks pretty well-groomed to me.”

“That’s because we stopped at a pet store,” Mike admitted. “I got him cleaned up. And bought supplies.”

Buddy leaned into Gwen’s hand and planted a doggy kiss in her palm. She laughed. “So, the only logical next step,” she said dryly, “was to adopt a great big dog on the other side of the country from where you live.”

Mike lifted his hands in surrender. “I know how it sounds.”

“It sounds like you.”