Kat chuckles. “And there was an almost kiss.”
I sigh heavily with how close it came. “Yeah… almost. He was going for it but then decided to wait until after our first real dinner date, which is next weekend.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t jump his bones. I mean, I would have, and what Thing Two does, normally Thing One would have done it first.”
“Right?” I exclaim. “I totally should have. But something told me to let him drive. Not because I think it would ding his ego, but because he’s enjoying himself drawing this out. And well, so am I. And there you have it… my life in a nutshell since I talked to you a few days ago. But I gotta go. A cute puppy patient is waiting for me.”
“Are you coming for Dad’s birthday?” Kat asks hesitantly.
I wince as I hold my tongue, the first inclination to decline. Escaping Blackburn Farms took every bit of strength I had. I tend to stay away, because the pull to return is too strong, and I’m afraid I won’t be able to break away again. Like a magnet on my heart. While in some ways, moving home would make me happy, in most ways, it would make me sad.
“We’ll see,” I finally offer. It gives her some hope and she won’t ride my back, and it doesn’t commit me. “It depends on the work schedule. Dr. Schoen’s traveling again, and I don’t know when she’s coming back.”
“Okay,” she sighs. “But if you don’t come, I’m going to need to come visit you soon. I miss my wombie.”
Short for womb roomie.
“I miss you so much.” I swallow hard and blink to chase away potential tears. “I love you, Two.”
“Love you back, One. You better call me after the kiss.”
“Promise.”
We disconnect, and I take another thirty seconds to get my head on straight. I love my family… every single member. Love them as deep as the ocean, and I miss them all terribly. But none more than Kat. We share the same heart, the same brain, the same soul. If there was ever one person who could get me to return to Kentucky, it would be her.
Thankfully, she’s never asked it of me.
CHAPTER 8
Kellen
It’s a quiet night. Bubba and Princess snooze on the floor beside me. My feet are perched on the coffee table, my eyes slightly glazed as I stare at the TV.
My phone chimes with a text. I grab it quickly, thinking it might be Abby. I’ve been fighting the urge to text her, even though I very much want to. I’m not playing hard to get or making her wonder by staying silent since our lunch yesterday. On the contrary, we’ve been in touch through a volley of texts. Plus, I called her last night, and we talked for about half an hour.
But I haven’t talked to her since my parents flew in. I picked them up at the airport this morning, and we spent the day together. I took them to Jameson so they could see where I work. It was fun watching them have a near apoplectic fit when we drove into the worst area Pittsburgh has to offer, where our headquarters is located. Dad sputtered when he took in the graffiti-covered warehouse.
I struggled not to laugh, knowing all would be well once they saw the inside.
After they were reassured I’d made a good career move—and I think that mostly had to do with Joslyn serving coffee in the communal kitchen, which totally dazzled them because she’s a famous movie star—we went out for a long lunch.
We spent the afternoon at my house. My mom fussed around, rearranging cabinets, doing my laundry, and running to the grocery store so she could make my favorite meal, eggplant Parmesan.
Dad and I hung out on the back deck, watching Bubba and Princess play. My parents were shocked to see another dog, but I assured them I’m just fostering for a while. Even as I said those words, I wasn’t so sure this wouldn’t be a failed foster. In only three days, the golden beauty has won my heart. She ignores the dog bed I purchased and insists on sleeping on my bed with me. Given the hellish life she’s lived so far, I’ve decided I’m okay with it. Bubba watched, quiet and curious, from his bed on the floor when Princess jumped up and curled into a doughnut at my feet, but maybe he understands she needs some extra grace.
There’s no denying the disappointment when I see the text isn’t from Abby but rather Saint. Another round of pictures of his baby son, born late last night. I smile at the photo of him holding little Andrew up for the camera, a dopey, lovestruck grin on the new dad’s face.
Not Abby, but admittedly, a great text to receive.