Page 85 of Building What's Meant to Be

“Don’t let Bess hear you say that. She fully supports the budding relationship between my llama and Archie,” Mae says.

I scrub my hand down my face. Maybe I shouldn’t retire. Sometimes, it’s easier to understand criminal minds than this barnyard world.

Okay, fine. I concede. Up close, the animal has the classic black and white husky markings framing its slender face along with a dusting of red. Those same three colors make up itsmatted fur. Its eyes are dark but curious. And the corners of its lips lift slightly as if it’s smiling. From a distance, the dog looked like a wild mongrel with the intent to kill.

Tinsley gives him a pet and he leans into her hand.

“Anyway, we’ve fed him a few times, but he never stuck around. Taylor called the area animal shelters and veterinarians to see if anyone reported a missing dog, but—” She shakes her head then uses doggy-speak when she says, “I’m not sure this good boy has a home.”

“Are we sure he’s good?” I ask.

Tinsley and Mae tilt their head in the exact same direction and give me a long-facedlook.

“Oh boy. Maybe I liked it better when you two were at loggerheads.”

They both burst into laughter.

Mae says, “Who uses the word loggerheads?”

I straighten to my full height. “Your older brother.”

“Alright, alright. Don’t get testy. Hold your nephew while Tinsley and I take care of this good boy baby doggy man,” Mae says, emphasizing the last part.

The two women bond over the husky, getting him water and digging out some chicken from the fridge in Toby’s kitchenette.

With the real baby still in my arms, I sit down in a lawn chair and gaze at this little bundle of squooshy boy. His eyes move under his closed lids. He coos a little. I wonder what he’s dreaming about.

My dream stands a few feet away, stroking the dog’s fur. She wears a warm, wide smile. My heart melts. It’s complete liquid. Between the baby and Tinsley, I’m no longer made of skin and bone. I’m a puddle. A puddle of love.

As if to punctuate my thoughts or razz his uncle, the little dude toots. Laughing internally, I get up, smoosh Tinsley, and ask my sister, “Where is your diaper bag?”

Mae’s eyes widen. Tinsley’s go even bigger.

“Uncle Aiden is going to change your diaper? Wonders never cease,” Mae says, directing me to the necessary materials and then mercifully giving me a crash course in the art of the diaper change.

It’s a dirty job, but I’m a proud man to do it. I’m a bit on the older side to start a family, but I can imagine a future with Tinsley—kids and a dog running through this field, visiting their grandparents, and lazy Sunday afternoons grilling, swimming, and smooshing.

With his diaper clean, Tinsley takes a turn with the baby and Mae helps me fix dinner. As usual, we grill.

As my sister puts together a salad, she says, “I have a confession.”

I go still, braced for something personal I do not want to hear involving her and my best friend, Taylor.

“You don’t need to—”

She waves me quiet. “I’m sorry that I wasn’t welcoming to Tinsley.”

“It’s understandable. She wasn’t exactly a prime candidate for a friend when you first met.”

“No, but I misjudged her. Or perhaps she’s changed. I don’t know, but I do know that over the last three weeks, she’s helped Rhondy out a ton, fixed up Bubba’s, and befriended Beatrice Baskin while learning about bees. No offense to Bubba, but that woman is like gristle. But his BBQ sauce has never tasted so good.”

“People change.”

“Beatrice is ancient.”

“I meant Tinsley.”

“Yeah. But I wasn’t nice to her. That probably wasn’t fair. I also—”

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