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I’ve already set the photo as my new screen saver.

I tell Holt…

It’s Owen’s first day of kindergarten. He’s been so excited to start big-boy school, as Faye calls it. We met the teacher last week, and man, he’s got the coolest classroom. We didn’t have a slide in our kinder class. Seriously, you should see this classroom. He’s a lucky kid.

He didn’t cry. Faye did, though. She’s a good mom, brother. She loves this kid more than life.

He’s happy. His favorite color is blue…still. And his favorite food is fruit. He wants to be a paleontologist and he tells everyone that fact proudly. We took a trip to Drumheller this summer and that deal was firmly sealed when he saw the life-size dinosaur skeletons in the museum. He’s a smart kid. He’s so fucking talented.

You’d love him…

Anyway, I know you won’t reply, but I hope you read.

Until next time.

I send the photos and messages, then I slide my phone in my pocket and head to work.

Holt won’t reply.

He never replies.

I never stop sending him these messages, though.

He deserves to know Owen, even if this is the only way that ever happens.

31

BABY FEVER

MARCH 2016 – 24 YEARS OLD

Ihear Tate murmuring to someone at the front door and frown as I tie the last balloon to the kitchen table chair. I start for the front door when Tate appears with a bundle of fur in his arms.

“A puppy?” My hands find my hips. “What on earth are you thinking, Tate?”

My husband shrugs. “I'm thinking I've been hit with baby fever again.” He holds the puppy up. “And this, this will help bring me down to temp.”

I narrow my eyes. “Baby fever? That's your excuse?”

He gives another lopsided shrug, wearing that goofy grin I can't resist.

This man, God love him, but he makes my head spin.

“I'm not picking up the poop.”

“I wouldn't dare ask that of you. Besides, it's Owen's pup. He'll pick up the poop.”

“Owen is six,” I deadpan.

Tate grins again. “And this is his birthday present. If I have to watch him try and woo your cat into bed with him another night, my heart might never recover.”

I bite back my grin and tease, “Softy.”

“Can't deny the truth, there. I’m soft as melted butter for the two of you.” Tate gives the puppy a scratch behind the ear. “Boy’s been trying to woo that cat for years. It’s time he learns who is really man’s best friend.”

I roll my eyes, and they land on the puppy. It really is so damn cute.

I don't tell my husband that.