At his question, I tipped down the box to show him the fluffy, big-eared puppy with stubby little legs.
The corgi she had always wanted, whether she said it or not.
From her old cell phone case to the slippers she wore, it was all about the dog.
“That’s a big step,” he said, nodding.
It wasn’t the ring we all knew would be coming someday. But it was a step toward that sort of permanence.
“Yeah,” I agreed, putting the box down on the table, so my hands were free to put the special bow collar on him.
“She’s been fawning over the cat since she moved in here,” Sway added.
Much to her own detriment.
Because our stray that had moved in for good absolutely fucking hated her.
It wasn’t her fault.
The cat only liked men.
“Yeah, I had to wrap up her arm yesterday from all the scratches,” I said, picking up the dog again.
“You realize this is only going to make her want to make babies with you,” Sway warned.
I didn’t care.
I wanted babies with her.
Delaney, apparently, wanted a large family like she’d been raised in. Though she claimed her body was going to give her four girls and one boy because she refused to put a daughter through the ‘overprotective bullshit’ her brothers put her through.
That was all bluster, of course. She loved her brothers to death. And she’d even grown to appreciate their overprotectiveness. Now that she was out of their house.
They’d been surprisingly accepting of our relationship. Well, Conor still made his jabs here and there. But that was just how he was.
They knew their sister was safe with me. And that my intentions were pure with her.
Fuck.
If you told me just a couple months ago that my intentions toward a woman could be described as “pure,” I would have laughed at you.
So much had changed.
All of it for the better.
I was getting my patch.
I had the girl.
It was everything I never knew I wanted.
And it was better than I could have ever anticipated.
“Oh my God!” Delaney shrieked as the freight elevator door opened—because Slash followed through with his plan to fix it for her. “Is that mine? That better be mine! If he’s not, you just have to fight to death whoever it belongs to,” she added, running forward, nearly falling over the coffee table in her rush to rip the puppy out of my hands.
“You know I would,” I agreed, smiling at her as she buried her face in his fur. “But he is yours.”
“Yes, you are. It will be you and me against that devil cat,” she added, turning him to show him the cat who was sunning himself like he hadn’t a care in the world. Because he didn’t. He had a massive warehouse to wander around, including an unfinished third floor that often invited little critters for him to chase around.
“You got a name in mind for him?”
“I do.”
“You gonna tell me?”
“Sal,” she said, giving me a sly smile, watching, waiting for me to put the pieces together.
Sal.
As in Sal’s.
The abandoned deli I’d taken her v-card in.
“Fucking perfect.”
“The name?” she asked, brows furrowing.
“You.”
I never saw her coming.
But now I would never let her go.