“The new hires are calling you Dr. McHottyPants.”
He rolls his eyes. “Oh, geez.”
“I think it’s funny,” I say. “I mean, you are. So…”
“But do they know we’re engaged?”
“How would they know? I can’t wear that ridiculous rock at the hospital.”
“You could tell them,” Noah says. “It would at least shut them up.”
“You sound like Maren,” I say. “And I barely even know them. They’ll figure it out eventually.”
Noah frowns and lets out an endearing grumble. “I don’t want anyone calling me Hottypants but you.”
“It’s Dr. McHottyPants. And too bad, buddy. You can’t walk through the hospital looking like you and not cause a reaction.”
He leans against the supply shelf behind him and pulls me against him, settling his arms around my waist. “Let’s talk about something different.”
“Okay. Evie just sent me new pictures of the baby. He just cut a new tooth and when he smiles, he looks exactly like Alec’s baby pictures.”
“Send them to me,” Noah says.
“I will. Now you go.”
“Hmm. Let’s see. Oh, you remember when you speculated that my dad sounded like he was itching to retire?”
“Is he doing it?” I ask.
“He just texted this morning. He’ll stay on through the end of next month so the hospital has time to find his replacement, but then he’s done. Said something about wanting to spend more time at the winery.”
“Can they even call it a winery if they aren’t making any wine?”
“Apparently, they’re making really good grape juice, which is a start, I guess?”
“Oh my gosh, your brothers. They make me laugh.”
“I don’t know,” Noah says. “I think they may actually be onto something. Okay, your turn. Anything else?”
This is often how we spend the first few minutes whenever we’re together. Catching up on news and family business. Making sure we hit all the most important pieces when sometimes, we only have a few minutes together.
Eventually, I’ll be able to pick better shifts. Work fewer nights. And we’ll be able to sync our schedules more easily. But for now, we’re just making it work as best we can.
“Oh! I do have one more thing,” I say. “I know it seems totally ridiculous to make this work right now, but I’ve been sort of maybe a little bit stalking this one particular dog rescue and…there is a puppy there that I think would be perfect for us.”
“Megan,” Noah says. “A puppy?”
“I know. I know! But you just have to look.” I pull my phone out of my pocket and pull up the Hope Acres website, quickly scrolling to find the puppy’s pictures. “Her name is Holiday, after Billie Holiday, which I think makes her extra special, and just…look at her cute face.” I hand Noah the phone, watchingas he studies her, his eyes growing just soft enough that I can already tell he wants her. “She’s mostly poodle, so she doesn’t shed,” I say, “and she won’t get much bigger than thirty-five pounds. And apparently, she has the sweetest disposition and she’s already crate trained and they’re working on her potty training and I really, really want her.”
Noah sighs. “You can’t tell me that. Because you know I can’t say no when you want something, but Megan…we can’t get a puppy right now.”
“But we can,” I say. “I talked to Mel this morning, and she all but guaranteed I’ll be off night shift by the beginning of next month. We will have so much more time together after that. And I’ll have more time to be with Holly.”
“You’ve already given her a nickname?”
I grin. “It’s cute, right?”
His shoulders drop and he shakes his head. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with you.”
