Page 97 of Friends That Heal Us
I kneel, cupping her face in my hands, letting my fingertips trace the softness of her jaw. She leans into my touch, eyes fluttering closed for a moment.
“I hope it’s not too late,” she whispers.
I pull her closer until her forehead meets mine. “It’s never too late.” Then I kiss her. I release our kiss, our foreheads still touching. “Are you sure about this?”
She nods. “I want this. I want you. I wantus.”
I pull her in again and kiss her softly. She responds instantly to me, like we’re made for each other. And we are.
“Do you want this with me?” she asks.
“You are all I’ve ever wanted since the day I first laid eyes on you.”
We crash our lips against each other.
My boy is jumping up and down and pawing at us. I release our kiss. “Are you feeling left out?” I say to the dog.
He curls himself into a ball on her legs. “I think he likes you.”
She looks down at him with a smile. “He’s so cute.”
I settle onto the floor in front of her, cross my legs, and watch him get comfortable with the woman I love.
“How did you get into fostering?”
I let out a sigh. “His mom and siblings were dumped behind my shop by someone, and the shelter asked if I wanted to foster one. And here we are.”
“Are you going to adopt him?”
“I don’t know. What do you think I should do?”
“It’s not up to me.”
“No, it’s up tous.”
Her grin grows wide as she looks down at him.
“I say we keep him.” He jumps up and licks her on the cheek.
“I say we keep him too.”
I lean in and kiss her, and right away the puppy jumps up, pawing at my chest until we stop.
We both look down at him. “I think someone is jealous already,” I say, chuckling.
She chuckles back, rubbing his belly. “What’s his name?”
“I haven’t thought of one yet.”
She pulls out her phone and types away. She looks up from her phone. “There’s Neo, Ashur, Novak, Navin. I’m probably pronouncing these wrong.”
“Did you Google names?”
She nods. “I googled male dog names that mean new beginnings.”
“I like Ashur.” I look down at our pup and I reach over to pet him. “What do you say, do you like Ashur?” He tilts his head and licks my hand. “I think he likes it.”
We both look up at each other, and for a moment neither of us says a word. We don’t have to. Everything we’ve been through—the hurt, the waiting, the confusion, the slow and rough climb back to each other—settles in the space between us. It hits me how long I’ve waited for this. For her. For us.
