Page 141 of The Flirty Vet


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Emma connected her laptop to the TV, and they've been showing me clips on YouTube from classic Australian TV shows. It's been wild seeing Kylie Minogue as Charlene inNeighbours. And I had no idea the Hemsworth brothers were in a show calledHome and Away.

Just like I have no idea what they're all talking about now.

Polly looks at me and smiles. "I love the way the nuts feel in my mouth."

"It's so creamy," Emma concedes, licking her lips, which only confuses me even more.

What on earth are these people talking about?

"Gaytime?" Wilby returns from the kitchen. He's holding something up in both hands.

I lean forward. "Is that an…ice cream?"

"Not just any ice cream," he says, grinning. "But the best ice cream in the world. Why? What did you think we were talking about?"

"Nothing," I squeak, wishing this couch would swallow me whole. Thankfully, the kids are oblivious, but it doesn't stop Polly, Emma, and Wilby from laughing at me.

"Here, take a bite of my Gaytime." Wilby waggles his eyebrows as he settles down next to me on the couch again. "And just so we're clear, I am still referring to the ice cream."

"Shut up," I say, trying not to smile as I swipe it from his fingers and take a bite. "Oh my god. This is sooo good. Why do we not have this in America?"

"Probably because Americans couldn't handle the name," Emma jokes, and everyone laughs. Including me this time.

The past three days have been just like this. Simple moments filled with family, laughter, and food. We've played every board game in the house multiple times. I've read to Kolby at night. Bridgette and I have helped Polly make a never-ending supply of delicious dinners and enough scones to feed a small village for a month…or me for a week, take your pick.

I even had a moment alone with Emma yesterday, and she opened up about how hard it is for amonster bitch—her words, not mine—to find a man.

I wish that my time here could last forever, but the relentless rain let up a bit yesterday, and we heard last night that the road into town has opened up again. Which is good news for the people of Scuttlebutt, as it means much-needed supplies can get into town and people can move around again.

But it's bad news for me, because it means I now have no reason to avoid getting on the next flight back home to New York, which, frankly, doesn't really feel like home.

What have I got waiting for me there? Honestly, not a whole lot. An apartment. Some clothes. Some furniture. A few friends, sure, but my dad and Brant don't live there. They're currently gallivanting about the planet on the trip of a lifetime.

Andtheseguys aren't there. It's amazing how, in such a short space of time, I feel so close to them. They've welcomed me into their home and into their lives with open arms—okay, with Emma it was less of an open arm and more of a menacing scowl situation, but after our chat yesterday, even she's thawing. I feel like I'm part of something here. I feel like… I feel like I belong.

As much as I love my dad and think he's the best dad in the world, after Mom died, it was just him and me against the world. I felt loved, protected, and safe, but I didn't feel like I belonged to anything bigger than just the two of us. Here, I do.

But that will all end in three hours when Wilby drives me to the airport, and who knows when I'll see any of them again?

Polly gets up to make some lunch, and Emma goes with her. Wilby shuffles the kids out of the house and back to school despite their very vocal protests. They've already missed more school these past three days so that we could spend time together than they have the past three years apparently, which I feel bad and grateful about at the same time.

When Wilby returns, he sits down next to me and eyes me with an uncharacteristically serious look. "I have an idea. Do you trust me?"

"Not at all." I smile, but Wilby isn't.

His expression hardens, making it clear he's not in a joking mood.

"What is it?"

"It's about your mum."

My smile dies, and I quit kidding around. "What about her?"

"Do you have her ashes with you?"

"Yeah. In my luggage."

"Go get them. I'll meet you out front."

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