Page 41

Dylan

A few weeks later, I stood in the doorway of our home, watching Jennifer and Alyssa side by side on a picnic blanket, looking more like conspirators than wedding planners. Every so often, Jennifer would look up, meet my gaze, and my whole world would tilt.

That right there—that’s my person.

Alyssa held up a piece of paper and Jennifer said something that had them both laughing.

I leaned against the doorframe, feeling more at peace with the world than I ever thought I could. We still had more questions than answers when it came to Enimton and the Gravestones, but I wasn’t about to let the past dim my future.

Whatever we discovered, we’d handle it like we were facing everything else—as a united front—as two people who chose to believe in each other. Who knew the catalyst to happiness could be a little amnesia and a whole lot of twin drama?

Maybe life required a little chaos to be livable.

Speaking of chaos. Stanley, the one-year-old golden retriever rescue Jennifer had brought home when Steven had suggested we get a protection dog, made eye contact with me from across the yard and came barreling toward me.

He came in like a mud-covered wrecking ball, nearly knocking me over.

In his mouth, he held what looked like one of Jennifer’s running shoes—though, to be fair, it was hard to keep track of whose footwear he was carrying since most looked different after being buried in the yard.

He dropped the saliva and mud-covered shoe at my feet and sat, tail wagging with expectation and pride.

“It’s a real mystery why anyone would have given you up.” My humor was dry, but I bent down, ruffling his ears. “Don’t worry, I was adopted too. And for a while, I was also a little shit, but I grew out of it and you will too.”

Stanley sneezed, wiggled closer until his wet nose was pressed into my palm, then his face turned up toward me in full devotion mode.

He gave a muffled, happy bark and tried to climb me, leaving muddy footprints on my slacks.

I pushed him down but smiled. My entire life was messier than it had ever been, and yet, I’d never been happier.

After our wedding, Jennifer and I planned to travel and take Stanley with us. Dad’s helicopter would likely never smell the same, but something told me he’d overlook that. I’d already caught him playing fetch with Stanley.

Under the unwavering supervision of Stanley, I loaded a tray with lemonade, napkins, and a plate of still-warm cookies. If one could earn a medal for walking with snacks while a puppy wove between your legs, I was in the running for it.

Jennifer met me halfway and gave me a quick kiss before reaching for a cookie. “You’re so good to me,” she gushed.

“That’s what you’ll be saying again tonight,” I said with a wink.

She chuckled, linked arms with me, and whispered, “Kings in the Corner?” That had become our code for a spicy romp.

“Every corner. All night.”

We kissed again.

“Hey lovebirds,” Alyssa said as she snagged two cookies from the tray. “Are you free to babysit on Saturday so Ted and I can have an evening alone?”

“Can we bring Stanley?” Jennifer asked.

“If you don’t, the girls will never forgive you. They found pajamas they think will fit him.”

I put the tray down on a table near their picnic blanket. “Stanley, don’t touch.”

Ella and Evie rushed over from where they’d been playing and flopped down beside Stanley, who promptly rolled over for a belly rub and nearly took them all out with a wag of his tail.

Evie asked, “Can we give him a cookie?”

“Cookies aren’t good for him,” Jennifer answered. “So, no, honey.”

Ella chimed in, “But what if we did it accidentally?”

I laughed and both Jennifer and Alyssa looked at me as if I was supposed to be able to keep a straight face. Then, as if giving in, they shook their heads and laughed as well.

This was what I’d been missing.

Not perfection.

Just love.

I hated how close we’d come to not having this.

As if sensing my thoughts, Jennifer hugged me. “Everything okay?”

“More than okay,” I said, meaning it more than I’d ever meant anything.

“Ella, where are your shoes?” Alyssa asked.

We all looked at Stanley, who stared back at us, with his big tongue hanging out happily. Okay, so he’d never bare his teeth or scare off an intruder. But at least if Enimton ever came back, he’d leave barefoot.

The End