Epilogue #4
Petunia hung with him most of the time too, not having the patience to handle the younger guys - Prim, Paulie, and Puck.
They hadn't come into our lives all at once.
Prim had been three years after Petunia, a poor abandoned dog we had seen on the news.
Kingston took every opportunity when I grumbled about watching the news to remind me that we never would have found Prim if not for it.
Paulie was next, two years later. Wells had latched onto him at an outdoor adoption fair at the farmer's market.
And, finally, Puck chose us. In a way. He'd been a feral puppy in the woods, crying for his lost mama at night.
We'd tried for weeks to find her, but had no luck, figuring he had come to us for a reason.
Eight chickens.
Six ducks.
Five dogs.
Four caged, furry creatures.
Three kids.
And two parents.
Hopelessly outnumbered, that was what we were.
But we wouldn't have had it any other way.
In my humble opinion, the best way to raise your kids was on a big plot of land, surrounded by animals to play with, nature to explore. It was a rare occasion that one of them would come in the house not dripping with dirt, trailing in mud.
Over time, I had needed to loosen my hold on the reins of Howie's, learn to accept that I was not the only person in the world who loved the animals, who would do everything in their power to help them live long, happy lives.
Some of the part-time kids Harry had hired when I was laid up with a busted ankle had eventually come on full-time, becoming the me I had been a decade ago.
And I guess, that was how it was supposed to be.
Harry held the name of owner, having paid off his debt to the Mallicks, gotten some help for his addictions, eventually finding a woman to settle down with.
But I was still the manager, in charge of all the books, the updates.
Which we had made many of over the years, bringing the store into this century with the top of the line equipment for the animals we sold, eventually expanding into the store beside ours, allowing us to offer training, grooming, adoption fairs of our own.
It was doing well.
Finally.
Howie's legacy was secure.
And a part of me was wrapped up in that, of course.
But the larger part of my legacy was right here, in this house.
Where I spent my days cooking, cleaning up paw prints, vacuuming up dog hair and Play-doh, peeling slime off the walls, doing endless loads of laundry that somehow never made the pile go down, chasing chickens, waiting for Kingston to come home.
We usually found a way to steal a few minutes alone in the kitchen once he was greeted by kids and dogs, sharing a cup of coffee, talking about our days.
His business had gotten bigger than he had anticipated as well. Which was likely due to the fact that he had made some very powerful connections through our visits to Eamon's casino. We didn't make it as much as we used to, but tried at least a few times a year.
It was important, we decided, after we had wanted to go for months on end only to talk ourselves out of it because of all the responsibilities at home. To get dressed up, to go out together. As people, as a couple, not just Mom and Dad.
"Savvs?" Kingston called, moving through the mostly-quiet house. It was a rare moment, indeed, when all the animals and the kids were outside. It almost never happened when Kingston came home from work. They usually heard the car door slam, and came running in to greet him.
"Kitchen," I called back, turning from the soup I had been stirring on the stove to find him walking in, beautiful as he had ever been, his eyes going warm as soon as they landed on me. "You're home early."
"Needed to see my girl," he told me, closing in on me, hands going around me, sliding down my back, sinking into my ass in a way that simply never got old.
He lifted me up, coaxing my legs around his lower back as his lips crashed down on mine.
And for the first time all day, there was no to-do list to get done, no animals or kids to clean up after, no food to prepare, no laundry to do.
It was just us.
It didn't matter how long it had been.
The world still fell away when we were together.
My arms crossed behind his neck, holding him closer as his teeth nipped my lower lip, making my mouth open on a moan, his tongue stealing inside to claim mine, making desire flood my system, wondering if there was somewhere in the house we could sneak away to for a few minutes, get lost in each other.
We didn't hear the back door open, or click closed.
But we did hear the loud grumble of Wells' voice.
"You're so gross," he declared, making us both pull back as he rushed away, slow, knowing smiles spreading across our faces.
"Did we just gross out our child with our love for each other?" he asked, eyes dancing.
"I think we did," I agreed, cheeks hurting from grinning.
"That's it. We have reached the pinnacle of parenting."
"We should celebrate," I agreed, face burying in his neck, lips moving over his skin.
"Hall closet?"
"Laundry room," I corrected. "They'd never think to look for us there."
"Oh," I said as my ass hit the top of the counter in the laundry room a moment later.
"What?"
"Did you remember to bring home the lettuce?"
To that, I got a small snort and a warm smile.
"Like I'd ever forget the lettuce."
XX