Page 118 of Raff
“Tell your father what you want for your birthday.”
Our son, confused, looked over at his father. “A lizard.”
“Nope. No, tell him what kind of lizard.”
“A chuckwalla.”
Rafe threw his head back and laughed. “Oh, shit. That’s good. Your mom hates those things,” he explained to our son.
“I don’t hate them. That one just… scared me.”
“When did you see a chuckwalla?”
“When I took your mom to Joshua Tree. Maybe it’s time for another family vacation,” Raff suggested. “Take this oneout to see the chuckwallas before we decide if we want to add something new to the family.”
We had the small, fluffy dog we’d once discussed. But our daughter had a set of tiny bunnies who were free to roam in her room. Our other son had, since he was little, an obsession with fish. So he’d asked for his own tank two years before. He and his father had been carefully maintaining it since.
I was actually surprised it took this long for our oldest to figure out what kind of pet he was interested in.
“Sounds good,” our son said, turning and walking out. Likely off to tell his siblings about the future trip.
“Hey, it could be worse,” Raff said as he walked into the room and moved behind my chair.
“How’s that?”
“He could want one of the lizards that eats bugs.”
“Bugs?” I asked, lip curling.
“Yep. Lots of them eat bugs. Fat, juicy caterpillars. Black soldier fly larvae—which are basically maggots. Or, for the bigger ones, roaches.”
“Oh, like hell. He can have his chuckwalla. So long as he doesn’t let it… run around the house and freak me out.”
“Well, let’s go visit them first. And make sure it isn’t a passing interest. We could use to a get away.”
“We can’t go to that same guesthouse.”
“Why not?”
“There’s too many of us. They only have the two suites.”
“Yeah, but the living room couches pull out. The boys can crash there. They won’t mind. And we can have our outside tub,” he said, hands massaging my shoulders. “And moon-gazing bed. On the other side of the building from the kids.”
“Okay. I’m sold. But we’re going to have to stock that fridge this time. Those boys have hollow legs lately, I swear.”
“Grocery bill has tripled this year,” Raff agreed. “So, when do you want to go?”
“Well, the kids are out of school in six weeks. Any time after that works for me. We’re gonna need a pet-sitter.”
“Luckily for us, we got a giant family we can inconvenience with that task.”
There was a soft knock at the door just as Raff leaned down to press a kiss to my neck.
We both let out a little sigh. We were used to the interruptions. But never immune from the frustrations surrounding them.
“Yeah?” Raff called.
“Daddy,” our daughter said, shooting her father a smile that looked a lot like his—charming, open, a little lopsided.
