Page 208 of Just One More Thing

“This is your home now,” I tell her. “You know that, right?”

“It always was,” she says. “I just took the long way back.”

I wake up sometime before sunrise to the sound of Hank negotiating with the bedroom door, leaning against it with slow, determined pressure, believing the laws of physics will bend to his will.

They do.

The door pops open.

He walks in, looks at the bed, looks at Mo, looks at me, then climbs up and wedges himself directly between us with a heavy grunt.

Mo laughs into the pillow. “He’s enormous.”

“You agreed to live with him.”

“I agreed to live with you. He’s a bonus.”

Hank rolls onto his back, all four legs pointing to the ceiling. His tongue rolls out as he tilts his head. He looks deeply satisfied with his title as bonus.

I reach across Hank and find her hand under the blankets.

She threads her fingers through mine.

Outside, the water catches the first gray light of morning and holds it. The fan turns slowly overhead. Hank starts snoring before either of us says another word.

I look at her over the broad expanse of my bulldog.

She’s already looking at me.

In our bed.

This house that held everyone I ever loved and now holds one more.

Home.

All three of us.

CHAPTER 47

EMORY

“Mo.”

I burrow deeper into the pillow.

“Mo. Wake up.”

His voice is low and warm. His lips brush my temple.

“No,” I mumble.

“I need you to get up.”

“It’s still dark.”

“I know.”

“Then why are we awake?”