Page 8 of A Very Merry Matchup
Yes, I text back. When I told Lucy about Beau back in September, I sent her a picture of the letter from his mom to help prove how sweet his family was.
Great! Get some rest, then head to Nolly Grove as soon as you can!
“Is she serious?” I mumble, reading her text while Yeseniaand Hamish play tug-of-war with the paper towels.Are you serious?I text Lucy.
Absolutely! I won’t take no for an answer. (And neither will Beau’s mom!)
Lucy had already talked to Beau’s mom about this? She must have. No way Lucy would invite me to spend Christmas with her at Beau’s parents’ house without making sure it was okay first. And it sounds like it’s okay, except... What about Hamish? He’ll have to come too.
“I may have found a place to go for the holidays,” I say to Yesenia. “Except I’m not sure how they’ll feel about me bringing Hamish.”
“Call and ask,” Yesenia says, blowing a loose strand of hair out of her face. “I’m sure they’ll be fine with it. At least try. You have to find somewhere to take him. Please, Ivy. I’m desperate.”
So am I. Desperate for sleep. “Fine,” I say since that seems to be the only way I’m going to get any sleep. “I’ll text Beau. No promises he’ll say yes though.”
I search for his contact info in my phone. Lucy must’ve given him my number, because a month or so back he started sending me pictures of his forearms along with silly captions likeHow much does this make your little nurse heart drool?
Wait. What am I thinking? I can’t text Beau. Because of course he likes dogs. He’s practically part golden retrieverhimself. He’ll say yes without a care whatsoever. If anything, I’m calling his mom. If she gives off the slightest vibe that me coming with a dog to their family Christmas is as weird and awkward as I feel like it is, then I’ll come up with a different plan. Somehow.
Little paper shreds cover the living room carpet like snow as Yesenia tugs what’s left of the paper towels out of Hamish’s mouth. “Good drop it, Hamish. You’re such a good boy. Ready to go potty? Let’s go potty.”
While Yessy clips a leash to his collar and they both clamber down the steps in the hallway like they’re on roller skates, I punch the contact button on my phone for Beau’s Mom.
Maybe I should have waited until after I slept before I called because when it goes to her voicemail, I almost forget what I’m calling her about.
“Um... Mrs. Beau’s Mom?” I’ve completely blanked on her name. Doesn’t help that she’s listed in my contacts asBeau’s Mom. “It’s me. Hi. Ivy. That’s me. Me’s Ivy.”
I don’t do well leaving a succinct voicemail on a good day. What made me think I could do this after thirteen weeks of bad nights with little sleep?
“I just wanted to make sure you were aware I was coming. To you. For Christmas. Because of the engagement. You know about the engagement, right? Of course you do. You’d have to. Why else would I be coming? Unless you didn’tknow I was coming. Is it okay that I’m coming? That’s all I wanted to ask.”
Why do I feel like there was something else I wanted to ask?
“The dog,” I nearly shout in the phone. “Sorry. The dog. I also wanted to ask about that. Can I bring a dog? He’s a lot. You can say no. His name is Hamish. Not that his name matters. I don’t know why I told you his name. Feel free to say no. Just text me because I may be asleep for a while.” And because Ihatetalking on the phone. “See you soon. Or not. Either is okay. I’ll completely understand. Bye-bye, Beau’s Mom.”
Bye-bye, Beau’s Mom?How do you delete a voicemail? Poor Beau’s Mom. Maybe I should send her a text and warn her not to listen to whatever I just said, because I don’t even know what I just said.
I trudge into Yessy’s guest bedroom and crawl under the covers.
Shoot. I forgot to take off my shoes. And I should probably use the bathroom first. By the time I get situated back beneath the covers a few minutes later, my phone pings with a text message from Beau’s Mom.
Yes! Of course! Beau just told me you were coming and I couldn’t be more excited! Bring a dog! Bring a donkey!Bring whatever you want! Can’t wait to see you again! This is already the best Christmas!
Well. Guess that answers that. Looks like Hamish and I are headed to Iowa. But first things first, sleep. Blessed, wonderful sleep. I silence my phone and sink into oblivion.
CHAPTER FOUR
You’re a mean one, Pinky Collar
Beau
“How’s life as a doggy daddy?” Carson asks me over the phone after I’ve been a doggy dad for roughly six hours.
“She’s an eight-pound demon with the jaws of a piranha and the bladder of a mouse.” I glance down just in time to see her making a puddle on the floor next to the fridge. “No, no, no.” I scoop her up and rush her out the back door. “We don’t go potty in the house, PC. We go pottyoutsidethe house.”
I set her down on the same patch of grass where I literally set her two minutes ago to go potty.
“So it’s going well.” I hear Carson chuckle as Pinky Collarsniffs the ground, then tries eating a chunk of mulch like a beaver destroying a log.
