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A tear escapes his eye, and he swipes it away, leaning in for a kiss that I don’t deny him. It’s a quick kiss, a brush of lips, but it’s comfort. It’s home. Brendon is my home. And as much as that scares me, I won’t let it stop me from loving him out loud.
He rests his forehead on mine with his eyes closed.
“Thank you,” he whispers.
The puppy chooses that minute to pop up and lick Brendon right across the lips. He jerks back, and I laugh at the look of surprise on his face.
“Someone’s jealous, huh? You need love too?” He cuddles the dog to his chest and scratches his ear while the pup licks furiously.
“What are you going to name him?” I scratch under the puppy’s chin.
“Me? Don’t you meanwe? He’sourdog. Or do you expect me to name all the children too?” The hoity tone is so amusing. I love that he assumes we’ll have kids because, why wouldn’t we?
“Letting you name the children by yourself is slightly terrifying. They would end up with initials that spell something weird.”
Brendon throws his head back and laughs hard.
“You’re not wrong.”
I look at the pup, at the square shape of his muzzle and his soft floppy ears.
“How about something like—”
“Lizard Brain. I was thinking the same,” Brendon interrupts.
“Lizard Brain?”
“Butt Breath?” he tosses out.
“What the hell is wrong with you? Have you never named an animal before?”
He scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Let me guess, you want to name him something boring like Bob. Carl. Spot.”
“He’s distinguished. Look at him.” I point at him. “He has a bow tie and will probably be pictured with the team a lot. He can’t have a weird-ass name.”
“If you suggest we name him Darby, I’m leaving you.”
It’s my turn to laugh, but fuck, it hurts.
“No, we aren’t naming him Darby.”
“Oh good, I didn’t want to leave you.”
Reaching for his chin, I pull his mouth to mine and take his mouth in a quick but dirty kiss. It sizzles my blood and has lust licking my skin.
“You aren’t going anywhere.”
Brendon blinks a few times while his neck turns pink.
“How about something like Seymour?” I offer. “He looks like a Seymour to me.”
“Butts!” Brendon shouts. “Yes, he can be Seymour Butts.”
“I’m going to start calling you Bart.”
He cackles and squishes the dog’s face in his hands. “Hello, Mr. Butts.”
The dog’s tail wags, and he licks Brendon’s face again.
