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“Puppies!”
“No fuckin’ way, Lola.”
“Ben, they’ve been abandoned! They have no mommas! No home! No bed to cuddle into!”
“I told you, Lol. Neither of us is home enough. You hire more and cut back your hours, you can get a puppy,” I say, pushing for what I’ve been begging her to do since I put a ring on her finger.
Three years after that first June 5th, I made Lola Turner mine officially, Tanner’s little girl toddling down the aisle and throwing petals to the ground.
She, of course, made her own wedding cake, the psycho she is.
And in the four years since we met, Lola opened a second Libby’s location and started wholesaling out some of her cookies.
The business is thriving, but I feel like I never see the woman.
“No. Then you’re going to try and knock me up and have me pregnant and barefoot and making cookies in our kitchen while you go off and work.”
“I’m gonna do that regardless. You can still work your bakery, babe.”
“That’s not the point.” She shifts gears. “Shouldn’t we have a test run? Make sure we’re capable of taking care of another being?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re going to be a great mom, no matter what, Lola.” It doesn’t even work. She doesn’t soften or smile. Instead, she continues to argue with me.
“Then you need the practice.”
And because I fucking love riling her up, I smile and answer.
“Why would I need practice if I have you?” Her jaw goes tight.
“If you think I’m going to bring your spawns into this world and you’re not going to be changing diapers, you’ve got another thing coming, Benjamin Coleman. I’ve talked to Jordan. Your brother tried to pull that shit.” I smile wider then move, pressing my lips to hers.
“Never, baby.” Her body melts just a bit in my arms, and I smile again.
“If you let me get a puppy, I will do unspeakably filthy things to you, Benjamin Coleman,” she says, a loud whisper in my ear, and Hattie laughs.
“I’m out,” she says, a wave to me.
“You good?” I ask, making sure she doesn’t need a ride, considering the state Lola’s in.
“All good. Lola ate a gummy. I babysat.” I fight the urge to roll my eyes, instead flipping off my best friend as she cackles and closes the door behind her.
“I’m serious, Ben. Unspeakably filthy.”
“Sweet girl, you’ll let me do unspeakably filthy things to you on any given Tuesday. Don’t need promises of a puppy to get you to be good for your Daddy.” She shivers in my arms before pushing back, her face changing in an instant.
“Oh my God. I forgot. I have asurprisefor you.” She smiles big, her eyes glazed and wonky but so fucking beautiful.
“Yeah?” I say, thumb brushing the remaining tear tracks that look out of place on her now happy face.
“Oh yeah,” she says and then, still in my arms, leans back, hands going to the bottom of her loose tee shirt and lifting.
I stand there, holding her, staring in shock.
“What is that?”
