Page 15 of Short Stack 3

“That’s not true, is it?” I ask.

“Nah. But it makes him happy.” We both laugh, and I savour the joy of knowing I’ll be back with my best friend soon. “How’s the house looking?” he asks.

“Beautiful. The builders wrapped up last week, and the painters finished yesterday. A couple of walls still need the plaster to dry before they can be painted, and the carpets come in the new year.”

“What have you done again?”

“I knew you weren’t listening.”

“Only because Gabe and Asa got very architecturally detailed. My brain stopped working, which probably wasn’t helped by the wine either.”

“We’ve had a two-storey extension, which gives us a master suite and an office for me so I don’t have to share one with Gabe anymore.”

“How did it go sharing an office with Gabe?”

“As well as you’d expect,” I say gloomily. “With his attention to tidiness, the only one who could live comfortably with him is Marie Kondo.” He snorts, and I grin at the familiar sound. “We’ve also added a glass extension to the kitchen, which will be lovely as we can have a dining room in there. I like that it’s open plan, and there’ll be a fantastic sea view. I can’t wait.”

I hear Gabe’s keys in the lock. “I’ve got to go. We’ll see you in a couple of days.”

“Yeah, come and have dinner with us.”

“You’re not cooking, are you?”

“No, which is lucky for you. Peggy’s in Scotland visiting her cousin, so Asa will do something.”

We exchange goodbyes, and I end the call. “Hello,” I call. “If that’s my lover, you can’t be here because my husband will be home soon. However, if it’s my husband, then yay.”

Silence greets me, and then I hear furtive muttering, and Gabe says in a low voice, “That’s a good boy.”

That’s sufficiently interesting to get me off the sofa, so I amble out to the hallway. “What’s up?” I ask.

Gabe is dressed in his usual expensive suit but looks rather rumpled. Numerous carrier bags are strewn on the floor, and he has a dog lead draped around his neck.

“If you’re expecting me to take you for walkies, think again, my love,” I say lightly. Then something moves, and I stop dead as a small dog with shaggy fur and a long nose edges around Gabe. He presses close to Gabe’s legs, looking up at me with soft eyes. He has a blue fleece blanket in his mouth. “Oh my god.”

“I can explain,” Gabe says hurriedly. A strand of dark hair has fallen over his forehead, and he has a dirty paw print on his usually spotless white shirt.

“Can you?”

He considers that for a second and then nods. “It was all Mags’s fault.” I start to laugh, and his mouth twitches. “It honestly was.”

“What exactly was his fault, and who is this little man?” I kneel, and the dog looks dubiously at me. “How are you, mate?” I say, keeping my voice low and even.

The dog presses closer to Gabe’s legs, and my husband pets him. “Go on,” he says softly. “Dylan’s good.” The dog looks up at him, and Gabe nods very earnestly. “Promise.”

My lip twitches, but I restrain my laughter, sitting quietly with my hand held out, palm up unthreateningly. The dog edges close, shivering, and I stay there as he sniffs my hand. He relaxes a little, and I tentatively pet one of his ears. They’re velvet soft.

“So?” I finally say.

Gabe rubs his nose. “This is a dog.”

“Thank yousomuch. I thought you’d brought a giraffe into the house.”

“Prat.” I chuckle, and he shakes his head before saying in a rush, “Mags went to the dog shelter because Laurie had painted a cocker spaniel, and I went for a stroll, and he found me. The supermodel at the dog shelter says dogs do that. They choose us,” he finishes in a solemn voice that makes me want to kiss him.

I parse through the jumble of words. “They have a supermodel at the dog shelter?”

He spreads his hands out. “Iknow.”

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