Chapter 53
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
ELSIE
For the last week, my life has been a fever dream of hot fireman cuddles, carb-loaded takeout, and absolutely unhinged pets.
I keep waiting for Beckett to wake up one morning and wonder what in the world is happening.
But every time I crack an eye open, there he is staring at me like I hung the moon, making me coffee before I even leave the bedroom, and wrestling a potbellied pig out of the recycling bin while Mr. Snugglebutt supervises with the air of a hairy orange crime boss.
Yep, it’s a domestic paradise.
My cat took exactly five hours to go from “I will die to defend my territory” to “This palace is mine.” At first, I thought he’d hold a grudge against Pork and Beans forever, swatting at them from strategic vantage points and plotting their deaths in his sleep.
Nope. Turns out my cat is an opportunist. He had one taste of doggie door freedom, and he’s living his best wildcat life with his two new besties.
I’m not even kidding. I caught him last night at two a.m. slinking through the doggie door, tail high, eyes gleaming like he was auditioning for “Predators of the Night.” This morning, he trotted back in with a dead mole in his mouth and promptly presented it to Beckett like some kind of trophy.
Luckily, it takes more than a dead critter to upset my hot fireman.
He took it all in stride. Before I could freak out, he grabbed a piece of paper towel and took the offering from my cat.
Then he disposed of it without any fuss.
Also, Pork and Beans have accepted their feline overlord.
The three of them now move in a synchronized triangle through the kitchen, forming an unstoppable food-begging alliance.
At night, they curl up on the Deluxe Pet Throne a.k.a.
Beans’s massive dog bed, and sleep tangled together in a beastly, snoring heap. It’s weirdly adorable.
My own transition into Beckett’s world has also been seamless, except for the mornings when I have to scrape myself out of his bed and convince my brain to function.
After a week, I’ve already got half his dresser drawers, my coffee mug is permanently stationed by the sink, and there’s a giant box of my favorite cereal in the pantry.
Life doesn’t get any better than this.
The vet clinic has one of those mornings that feels like the universe is taking pity on me.
There are exactly zero emergencies. No one’s dog has been hit by a car, ingested half a bottle of aspirin, or decided to eat a sock.
The waiting room is empty and still smells faintly of disinfectant from Hanna’s latest “deep cleaning” binge.
Hanna’s behind the front desk, feet up, scrolling endlessly on her phone. If boredom were an Olympic sport, she’d be in first place.
I’m behind the counter with a stack of charts and my old friend—strong, sweet coffee. My plans for today are definitely not ambitious. I’m just hoping to survive.
I check my phone. It’s only ten a.m., and so far, my most interesting case is a dachshund with seasonal allergies.
The door chimes, that familiar ding loud in the quiet, and my brain instantly goes into “client face” mode. I slap on my professional smile, expecting a catastrophe, but I’m pleasantly surprised to find Beckett’s mom striding in the door.
Behind the desk, Hanna sits up straight, her phone dropping onto the counter with a clatter.
“Good morning!” Her voice is rich and cheerful, with just the faintest edge of “I dare you to cross me.” I love her instantly, which is confusing because I’m also two seconds from a nervous meltdown.
I clear my throat and force my brain to remember how to speak. “Hi, Mrs. Hot! It’s so good to see you again.” This is technically true—I met her a few weeks back when she brought Beans in for a checkup and single-handedly charmed my entire staff.
Debra beams, her smile so genuine I almost forget to be afraid. “Please, call me Debra. I wasn’t sure if you’d remember me. I just had to come by and see you.” She glances at Hanna, who’s smiling in open awe, and then back to me.
Debra’s smile shifts a little. It’s still warm, but now with a glint of mischief. “I’ve been trying to get my oldest to bring you over for Sunday brunch.” She holds up her phone, tapping the screen. “But he’s been ducking my calls and messages.”
All my blood rushes straight to my face. Holy. Freaking. Hell. I just got ambushed by Beckett’s mom. At work. In broad daylight.
She leans in conspiratorially, eyes twinkling. “So, I thought I’d come by and invite you myself. Would you like to have brunch with us on Sunday?”
I laugh, because what else can you do? “I—I’d love to.”
Her face lights up like I just handed her a winning lottery ticket. “Perfect! All the kids will be there. You like French toast?”
I nod, way too enthusiastically. “I love French toast.”
“I knew it. You and me, we’re going to get along just fine.” Debra leans over the counter and gives my hand a squeeze, her smile so genuine it nearly knocks me over. “Ten o’clock. You bring that handsome son of mine. I’ll handle the rest.”
There’s a lump in my throat the size of a golf ball. I was braced for disaster, but instead, she’s looking at me like I already belong, like this is all meant to be.
“Thank you,” I manage, my voice embarrassingly wobbly, but she doesn’t even blink.
“Of course. I can’t wait for you to meet the rest of the family. See you Sunday, Elsie.” She turns to head to the door. Before she walks out, she adds. “Please tell my son to call me.”
I nod like an idiot, still in full deer-in-headlights mode. My face is on fire, and my tongue feels like sandpaper. “Will do!” Wow, so eloquent, Elsie. I manage a wobbly smile, and Debra winks before breezing out the door, leaving a cloud of expensive perfume in her wake.
The second she’s gone, I nearly collapse behind the counter.
By the time my heart rate slows down, I’m almost giddy.
Nervous, but also… excited. My own parents never did the family brunch thing.
Most holidays, I’d order Chinese takeout and binge reality TV marathons.
The idea of a table full of loud, happy, possibly slightly insane people actually wanting me there?
I want it so bad it makes my chest ache.
I pull into the driveway and spot Mr. Snugglebutt, sprawled on the porch in a sunbeam.
He glares at me as I walk up the front porch steps.
The cat barely glances up as I fumble for the house keys, like he’s king of the castle and I’m just here for his amusement.
I snort out a laugh. Typical. I drop my bag next to the door and toe off my sneakers, already mentally running through my dinner options.
Beckett has a late meeting tonight, which means I’m home alone with the unhinged animal mafia and whatever’s lurking in the fridge.
I pop the fridge open and stare into the abyss. There’s a half-empty carton of eggs, a bottle of Beckett’s favorite hot sauce, and three really questionable yogurts. Not super inspiring.
I guess I’ll have to order something if I want to eat. Right now, exhaustion overrides hunger, so I decide I’ll figure out what to order after I have a little nap.
I drag myself to the living room and find Beans napping in his beanbag chair, snoring so hard he wheezes, while Pork digs at a throw pillow like he’s one step away from tearing it open and eating the stuffing.
I ignore the crazy animals and flop onto the couch in a heap. As soon as my ass hits the cushion, every muscle in my body melts. I want to become one with the couch and never move again. I’m so boneless, I hope no one needs anything anytime soon.
Across the room, Beans lets out a whuff, barely lifting his head to acknowledge my presence before resuming his nap. Pork stops digging at the pillow just long enough to glance at me, then goes right back to destroying his victim. I’m surrounded by chaos gremlins and couldn’t be happier.
I hear the click-click of the doggie door and realize Mr. Snugglebutt has come in to join the snooze fest.
I groan and let my head loll back against the couch, staring at the ceiling and trying to summon the motivation to do literally anything.
Nope. Not happening. My brain is running on fumes, and the only thing I want is a nap, then maybe some carbs to refuel so I’m ready for whatever Beckett has in store for me tonight.
My phone buzzes on the coffee table, vibrating so hard it nearly launches itself off the surface and into orbit. I lunge for it, flinging out a hand like a deranged goalie, and manage to snatch it before it shatters on the floor.
My screen lights up with Beckett’s name, all-caps and demanding. Just seeing it makes my stomach do a wild flip.
Hottie
Are you home?
Me
Just walked in. You’ll never guess what happened today.
Hottie
If it’s my mother’s unexpected visit, I already heard. Sorry she ambushed you.
Me
She was really sweet. Just like you.
Hottie
I’ll show you sweet when I get home.
Me
Promises, promises. It feels like forever until you get off of work.
Hottie
Surprise. I’m off early. I’ll stop by Mario’s on the way home and grab dinner.
Oh, heck yes. All signs of exhaustion instantly evaporate. Forget the nap; now I’m ready for dinner and dessert.
Me
Did you read my mind? I was just thinking I needed carbs and you.
Three dots appear and disappear while I hold my breath.
Hottie
Good. You’ll have plenty of both when I get home.
God. I’m so freaking lucky.