It was time to talk about that and a dozen other things. We had coyly tiptoed around some big decisions. We liked spending time with each other. Things felt right between us.
What would happen if we tried to move forward together in some way?
Where would our home base be? How would we handle the many necessary separations dictated by our jobs? What about the disparity in our incomes? How would we live if he was used to all the finest things, but I liked simplicity and living with nature outside my door?
We couldn’t go on hiding from the world this way forever.
Even pragmatist Molly seemed to take for granted that the little pack we’d formed was permanent in some way. She’d added my schedule to her tablet and ran media intervention for both of us. For Sebastian, that meant keeping him in a media blackout, and for me, it meant spinning news of his stay at the sanctuary in such a way that it kept our relationship private.
No one had complained about losing the drone Taggart had shot down, but it would be futile if they did. The kennels were located deep inside a clearly marked private area.
The doorbell rang.
“Stay there.” Molly got up from the kitchen table where she’d been having a late breakfast. “I’ll get it.”
Sebastian murmured something in his sleep.
“It’s okay.” I brushed Sebastian’s hair off his forehead. “Ariel probably wants to talk about the ceremony later.”
I was about to slide out from under him when Serena walked in, followed by Sadie, Jesse, and Lincoln. I met Serena’s gaze with shock. Morrigan froze.
“Dad’s got a dog!” The boys glanced at each other with delight.
Was that it?
Instead of demanding to know why I'd basically destroyed our family, were my sons going to get excited over a dog?
This wasn't how I imagined our reunion would go. There had to be hard feelings, a sense of betrayal, regrets, and recrimination. I ought to be punished. I needed to make amends.
What should I do? What should I say?
Sadie’s eyes widened on seeing Sebastian.
“Mom, that’s—” Gasping, she gripped her hair with both hands and gave a banshee’s scream—loud and long and anguished—before running outside.
Muttering a benign curse, Serena whirled and ran after her.
“She’s just upset because she’s got zits.” Jesse shrugged. “She didn’t want to come because a boy at school said her face looks like a pizza.”
“Pizza’s bigger, though,” observed Lincoln. “Can I pet your dog?”
Sebastian, who had frozen when my family entered, now sat up.
“I’ll just go to my room,” he said.
I put my hand on his shoulder. “Wait—”
“Not a chance in hell.” He shook me off and headed to the back of the house, followed by Molly.
“What’s his name?” Lincoln asked.
“Her name”—I cleared my throat—”is Morrigan.” Even at his young age, he knew how to handle himself around dogs. He fought the desire to move closer, although I could tell he really wanted to pet her. “It’s good to be wary of dogs. Keep your hands to your sides and let her come to you. I’ll let you know when it’s okay to touch her.”
I gave Morrigan the go-ahead, “Go on, Morrigan. Make a friend.”
Morrigan crept toward them in a laughably cautious manner. She wasn’t afraid of children, but she’d learned they were more likely to move impulsively and could be careless of her dignity. They pulled tails.
“She’s so pretty.” Lincoln was definitely a dog person.
