Page 72 of Last Love

Memories of activities being unclear.

Its evident it irks him; however, he continues to share.

Push through the discomfort.

Prove he can be open with me.

My stories involving my ex are much duller.

Sadder in their own way.

Xander was never much for celebrating so we typically just went to dinner while gifts were always practical like a fancy pill holder for my meds, which Ry immediately gets up to grab for me to take.

He places the pills directly in front of me at the same time he teases, “Guy sounds like a real party animal.”

I lightly chuckle while reaching for the objects. “It was fine. Katherine always made it up to me. A spa day here. Lunch in the Hamptons there-”

“Wait,” Ry cautiously starts right after I swallow my medication, “what do you mean a lunch in The Hamptons there? We’re nowhere fucking near The Hamptons. Are you telling me she would just put you two on a plane-”

“Usually a private jet.”

“-just so that you could eat at some restaurant a million states away?”

Nodding is instantly done. “We didn’t usually spend the night. She has a love hate, relationship with the area, but it was always an option if I wanted.”

Shock has his jaw bobbing in a speechless fashion prior to him defeatedly sighing, “That’s the shit I’m fucking competing against?”

“Oh, babe,” I sweetly coo and place an adoring palm on his leg, “you’re never competing against Katherine.”

“Because she automatically fucking wins?”

“No, because fucking me automatically wins.” The waggling of my eyebrows gets us both laughing. “Trust me, being loved and shown love like you do wins – hands down – for the best gift.”

He flashes a slightly insecure smile that he tries to hide behind planting a kiss on the hand he lifts to his lips. “How would you like your actual gift now?”

“Wasn’t that breakfast?”

His expression grows sardonic. “You really fucking think that’s all I got you?”

“I thought that and taking the day off to come celebrate with my family was it.” Concern creeps itself up my robe-covered spine. “I told you I didn’t need anything else, Ry. You missing a full day of work is costly enough.”

And fighting about it was fucking stressful enough.

“It’s nothing huge,” he starts at the same time he gets up from his seat. “Definitely not a trip to the fucking Hamptons.”

Wordlessly, I watch him retrieve the little wrapped box from the coat closet near the living room.

I wanna be pissed.

I wanna scream and yell and command that he returns it to get the money back so he can use it for gas or groceries, but the joy pumping through his expression defeats the urges.

Forces me to surrender.

To let him have a win after a shitty couple of days.

“Happy birthday, Pres.” He stretches the square package out towards me. “One day, fuck, someday, I swear I’ll stop getting you shitty little gifts.”

The zebra choice of wrapping paper alone warrants a smile. “It isn’t about the size, Ry. It’s about the thought.”

“Women say the same shit about men in bed and don’t mean it there, either.”

Snickers are swiftly followed by me attempting to object again.

“Just open it,” he encourages while continuing to stand.

Pulling over the covering takes minimal effort. The sight of the shoebox has me immediately lifting my narrowed gaze, “Ryder Collins you did not take back your new work shoes to buy me a fucking gift.”

“Why would I take back the shoes but keep the box?”

His question causes me to frown at the valid point.

“Stop overthinking the shit, and open it, Pres.”

I quickly lift the lid to reveal an unexpected object I’m unsure of how to respond to. This time when my eyes find his, I ask, “Is this…is this a weird sex thing?”

“That’s a pet leash,” he impishly laughs, “and not the kind for sex.”

“There are sex leashes?!”

“There are, but that’s a different topic, for a different day,” my boyfriend promptly brushes off. “This leash is for a dog.”

Tilting my head in confusion is mindlessly done.

“You’ve talked about wanting a dog numerous times over these past couple of months. Your main hang up about it is being worried you won’t have time to properly care for it, but I’m here to tell you that we can do it together. I’m willing and happy to help walk the dog. Wash the dog. Vet visits. Buy food or treats. Take it to training on my days. Whatever it needs, however it’ll help you have this, I’m up for.”

My jaw slightly lowers in surprise.

“Whenever you’re ready for it.”

The words come out a little quieter than anticipated. “You want us to get a dog?”

“If you want this to be an us thing, baby, I’m in. If you want this to be a you thing, I just help with, I’m still fucking in.” He gets a somewhat bashful, goofy grin. “Just want you to finally have something I know you’ve been wanting.”

Warmth overwhelms my system, and I can’t stop from launching myself into his arms for a hug.

Both of his arm squeeze tightly on another whispered, “Happy birthday, baby.”

Speechlessness gets me once more and rather than be annoyed by it, I simply embrace the moment.

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