Page 115 of The Vow

King Madden barks at my feet. He sniffs the floor around my body.

I coo, "Sorry, buddy. You probably have to go potty, don't you?"

He races toward the door. I follow him, attach the leash to his collar, and then open the slider door. He tugs me outside toward the spot Riggs designated for him.

"Good boy! You're so smart already knowing where to go," I praise.

He squats and does his thing. When he finishes, I move toward the ocean's edge.

Riggs is far out past the break and paddles fast to catch a wave. It swells behind him, and he jumps on the board, riding it until it tosses him off.

He falls into the water, and his board flies in the air. I hold my breath like I always do whenever he goes under. Riggs could surf professionally. He's that talented. Yet whenever the waves pull him under, my nerves skyrocket.

He finally pops out of the water, and I deeply exhale. He gets his board, slides onto it, then paddles farther away from shore.

I sit down on the sand, and King Madden jumps on me. I unlock his leash from his collar. He flies off my lap, running in circles around me. Sand flies in the air, and I laugh. I pat that spot next to me. "Come here, sweetie."

He yelps and then rushes down the beach, igniting my anxiety. He ran a lot on the beach yesterday, and he only went so far before turning around, and I don't want him to go any farther. Yet he passes the spot where he went the previous day.

I jump up, clap, and shout, "King Madden, get back here!" I hold myself back from running after him. Yesterday, Riggs and I learned quickly that if we run after him, he keeps moving forward.

It's exactly what's happening now. So I yell, "King Madden!" in a sterner voice.

He turns, positions himself in the sand, and barks at me, wagging his tail.

"Come get me," I yell in a playful voice, then jog the opposite way down the beach, worried my reverse psychology might not work.

To my relief, it does. King Madden comes barreling down the sand and pops in front of me, then throws his body on it, rolling around.

I crouch down and rub his belly, softly reprimanding, "Aw, you went a little too far this time."

He sticks his tongue out, and I scratch behind his ears. I laugh, "You're too cute."

He jumps up and barks at me.

I pick him up and kiss his head, admitting, "You're getting a little too brave for me. Next time don't go so far."

He nuzzles his head against me, and my heart swoons. How can I fall in love with a puppy so fast? It's not even been twenty-four hours, and I know I'd be lost without him.

How am I going to ever tour without him?

My stomach dives. I push the thought away. I'm going to have to. There are too many responsibilities to deal with when I'm away, and I don't want to shirk any of them. Nor do I want to let Colton down when he added me to his tour.

I wince, thinking about Colton and the other night at the club. He blew up my phone calling and texting all day yesterday, but I didn't want to talk to him when Riggs was around. I told him I was okay through text and said I would talk to him later. But he continued sending me one message after another. I finally told him I was turning my phone off, and I did.

I don't even want to turn it back on today to see how many more messages he left me. One thing I've learned about Colton is he pushes to get what he wants. In some ways, he's a lot like my husband.

Riggs booms, "Penny for your thoughts, pet?"

I snap out of my trance, turning to him. My pulse quickens. His unzipped wet suit hangs off his hips. Tattoos glisten over his arms, pecs, and torso. His tousled dirty-blonde hair has drops of salt water on the ends.

My husband's the sexiest man alive.

I need to keep him.

Equals. We need to become equals.

King Madden barks, wags his tail, and tries to escape my arms.

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