Page 4 of Single All the Way

“This is adorable.” Emerson tilted her head at me. “Did you do it up just for me?”

“I’ve been meaning to make it into a guest room anyway,” I said, which was the truth.

“It’s very feminine. Do you have a lot of female guests?” she teased.

“Just one.”

Her smile disappeared, which made mine grow.

“Her name is Grandma Berty. She doesn’t normally sleep here though. She drives home even on nights like last night, when I don’t get back till midnight. I don’t like her out that late. So eventually, this will be hers when she needs it.”

I showed them the bathroom, Ruby’s room, where Xavier was making himself at home, having lugged in his suitcase from the car, and finally Evelyn and Skyler’s room.

“You two get the biggest room,” I told Skyler.

Emerson went in and sat on the floor, pulling her daughter to her lap and making a production of unpacking Waylon.

“Sorry to desert you, but I’ve got hungry horses and llamas,” I said, noticing it was nearly ten a.m.

“Go. We’re fine.”

“Evelyn will be done with the chickens in a few minutes. She can show you around in more detail.”

“We’ll grab our suitcases in a few.” Emerson checked her watch. “I have to meet the movers at noon.”

I headed downstairs with Nugget following me. Pixie, our gray former runt who now weighed seventeen pounds, was at the foot of the stairs, probably wondering what all the commotion was. When she saw that the dog wasn’t one of our approved family members, she went into a defensive stance and hissed.

The dog, who’d probably not met a cat before, went right up to Pixie and sniffed, which got her a swipe across the nose before the cat hightailed it into my bedroom.

I patted the dog, who looked up at me in confusion, wondering why she couldn’t be friends with every living thing. Then I closed my bedroom door, hoping both cats were in there and that they wouldn’t need the litter box for the next hour.

When I stepped outside, the cold rain had intensified, but I didn’t care. I walked out into it and breathed in the relative silence. I loved my daughters more than anything in the world, but life with them—and all our animals—was loud. Sometimes I craved quiet more than a Meat-astic Pizza from Humble’s.

The light in the chicken house was on, telling me Evelyn was still doing her chores. With full confidence she was okay, I entered the barn and inhaled the smell, a mix of animal, wood, humidity, and yes, manure, and my shoulders loosened. The barn was my sanctuary, feeding the horses and llamas my meditation. The aroma had the power to lower my stress level instantly.

“Hey, Smoky.” I rubbed the black quarter horse’s sleek neck. “I know you’re hungry, boy. I’m on it.”

Freckles and Bay Leaf, in the next stalls, were also impatient for their breakfast, so I made quick work of getting all three of them fed and watered. Next I took care of Betty and Esmerelda, making sure everyone had enough feed and water for the day.

My friends gave me shit for adopting so many animals, calling me a sucker and saying one more adoption would put me over the edge. I had a lot on my plate for sure, and I could cop to having a tried-and-true soft spot for creatures in need of a home, but I never took in someone on a whim.

At least I hadn’t until I’d invited Emerson and her kids to stay with us.

We’d been at the grand opening for Earthly Charm when she’d taken the call from Kizzy and learned Kizzy had an incredible preemptive, time-sensitive offer on her home in the Heights. Emerson had graciously, in my opinion, told her mother-in-law to accept. When she’d ended the call, I’d seen reality start to settle in as she realized what a tight spot that put her in, so of course I’d offered them a place to stay. How could I not?

I’d been too busy to really think about the implications in the two and a half weeks since, aside from figuring out who would sleep where. Until now, it’d all been logistics.

Now I was realizing how much I’d bitten off—three more personalities to weave into our daily life…plus a dog. We’d already moved her six hens in with our brood. Our family’s schedule could be irregular due to my unpredictable work. Today was a perfect example.

Which reminded me, there were five people in my house waiting for pancakes. As I finished up with the outside animals, I shoved down the fatigue and ignored that depleted, post-adrenaline-crash feeling. The day was young, and resting was a myth.

I bent down and scratched two of the barn cats between the ears, told the horses and llamas goodbye, and headed to the house, wondering what kind of chaos I’d walk into.

As I opened the door to the kitchen, the first things I registered were the smell of bacon and the sizzle of food on the stove. I froze and took in the scene.

Emerson was at the stove, flipping bacon in a skillet and eyeing the griddle, where golden pancakes were fluffing up. Skyler was in the adjoining dining room, setting the table. My mouth fell open as I leaned against the door behind me.

“You’re incredible,” I said, stunned and so fucking grateful.

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