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“You didn’t really think I’d forget your birthday, did you?”
“No,” I say, wiping a tear from my eye. “Okay, maybe.”
His arms tighten, and I melt against him. “Claire, I promise I will never forget your birthday or our anniversary or the birthday of our fur babies.”
“Baby.”
“Huh?”
“You said fur babies, but we only have one, so it’s fur baby.”
“About that…” Trevor turns around and nods toward Mo.
She opens the door to the back patio, and in stumbles a lanky puppy—a mutt from what I can tell, maybe a German Shepherd mix. His ears flop in front of his face, and he trips over his too-big paws. He has a giant bow tied around his neck, and he runs straight for Trevor.
Trevor bends down and picks the puppy up. He holds the fur ball near my face, and a slobbery, pink tongue darts out, licking my cheek.
“Happy birthday.”
“You got me a puppy?” I say, taking the wiggly body from his hands. “What’s his name? Or is it a she?”
“Definitely a he,” Trevor laughs, wrapping an arm around me. He runs his fingers through the fuzzy coat. “And I got him more for Milo.”
“Milo?”
Mo steps forward. “I found a guy who trains dogs to be seeing eye dogs for other dogs.”
I look from Trevor to Mo and back to Trevor. “You did this…”
I shake my head and hand the puppy off to the first person who reaches for him, and then I step up to Trevor. I push up on my toes and kiss him right here in front of everyone.
I probably shouldn’t, but holding him is heaven, and the comfort of knowing he’s mine is overwhelming. We indulge in a deep, languid kiss, only breaking apart when he dips his head to my neck.
“You’re killing me, Red,” he whispers.
Smirking, I pull back just enough to look into his eyes. “You are the very best part of my life, and this is the best gift you could’ve given me.”
“Just wait. I’ve got more for you at home,” he whispers.
“I don’t need more. I just need you.”
“All of this lovey-dovey crap is great, and happy birthday, Claire, but can we eat now?” Cooper asks.
Trevor laughs.
Vivian scoffs. “Cooper Allen.”
“What? I’ve been waiting all day for this. I’m starving.”
“Me too,” Rhett adds.
“Let’s eat,” I say, keeping my eyes on Trevor’s.
The room erupts in chatter. Milo and the puppy hop around, already the best of friends, and Trevor and I stay in our little cocoon for a few more seconds, relishing the peace we’ve found in the midst of chaos.
“Happy birthday, baby.”
“Thank you.” I giggle and look down when the puppy trips over my foot. “We need to name him. How about Bob?”
