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I couldn’t blame them.
When we’d visited last summer before I had our youngest, the kids—despite endless lectures about leaves of three—had managed to both get into some poison ivy, and were absolutely covered in it and miserable for days.
“You can’t complain. I think they get their stubbornness from you,” I told him, pushing up to look down at his face that only seemed to get more handsome over the years.
“That’s probably fair,” he agreed. “Well, if we are gonna have a new puppy, having the woods to exercise that energy out of them in might be a good thing.”
“Look at you, seeing the bright side,” I teased.
“Must have learned that from somewhere,” he said, tugging a strand of my hair playfully.
“Probably from a very patient, very understanding woman,” I agreed.
“I was thinking it was from falling in love with a gorgeous, but messy, woman,” he said with a smirk.
“Just for that, I’m loading the dishwasher my way tonight,” I declared.
“Don’t you fucking dare.”
“In fact, I think the sink is full right now,” I said, smile big as I pushed off of him, and rushed toward my clothing pile. “Damnit,” I grumbled when he hopped up, shrugging on his pants in half the time it took for me to get back into my leggings. “Stupid girl clothes,” I added, watching as he disappeared out of the room as I pulled my shirt on.
By the time I got downstairs, he had our baby on his shoulder, holding him there with one strong hand, and was actively loading the dishwasher with the other.
Which left me free to let the puppies out and play with them with the older kids.
Perfect.
God, we were so freaking perfect.
Even if we all came down with poison ivy at the cabin.
“We want this one,” our son called, making both Silvano and I look over to see him and his sister trying to hold onto a squirming puppy.
The most hyperactive of the bunch.
Because of course.
Finished with the dishwasher, Silvano came over, plopping the baby on my lap, then hauling me up to his side.
“Guess we got two dogs now,” he said, his fingers sliding up and down my spine.
“Don’t get too comfortable with that number,” I said, kissing our baby’s head. “I have a feeling they are each going to insist on their own dogs over time.”
“I can live with that,” Silvano said, arm giving me a squeeze. “So long as you start organizing the spice rack alphabetically,” he said, making me laugh.
“Fiiiineee,” I said, tilting my head up at him, and shooting him a scrunched look.
“Love you, Mills,” he said, voice low.
It didn’t matter that he said it every single day.
I never got sick of it.
“Love you too,” I said, leaning up to kiss him, short and sweet. “And us,” I added, leaning against this chest to watch the kids race around after the puppies that had somehow found and stolen their shoes, laughing the whole time.
God, yes, I loved us.
And this hectic, beautiful life we’d built.
As always, a huge debt of gratitude to Fern for her keen eyes.
And also a big thanks to Gabi, Ashley, Sonya, and Cherie for helping make this book shine.
