The next morning, Connie slept in. She rarely got the chance.
She was pleasantly surprised to wake up with Byron beside her. She rolled over and put her arm around him. She snuggled up next to him and nibbled his ear.
“Morning, beautiful,” he said softly. He couldn’t fool her. He’d been awake for a while and had just been waiting for her to slide up beside him. He loved that. She loved that he loved that.
He turned around and wrapped his arms around her. They snuggled for a while more before Chestnut the Wonder Dog interrupted. She pushed open the bedroom door, carrying her leash in her mouth.
“I thought we agreed to lock that door,” she said.
“I did,” he said.
“We’ve got to get a better lock,” said Connie.
“The installer said it was absolutely dogproof.”
“You asked him if the lock was dogproof? And he just said yes?”
“He did give me a funny look before answering.”
Connie smiled at him and chuckled.
“Yeah, like that,” said Byron. “You’re the one who brought home a larcenous dog.”
The retriever, having already hooked the leash to her collar, set the handle down on the bedside table, along with the doggy bag dispenser. Criminal tendencies aside, she was very well trained.
“I don’t suppose we could let her walk herself,” said Byron.
Chestnut perked up.
“Oh no,” said Connie. “Don’t even think about it. If we let that dog loose on society unsupervised, we could be talking about a crime spree.”
Chestnut lowered her head and flashed big brown eyes.
“I’ll make breakfast if you take her for a walk,” said Byron. “Or I could take her, but she has less of a chance of stealing the Hope Diamond with you.”
Connie rolled out of bed. “The Hope Diamond is on display at the National Museum of Natural History. It’s a little out of the way.”
“Like that would stop her,” he said affectionately as he scratched Chestnut’s head. “Who’s my little kleptomaniac? You are. You are.”
“Don’t encourage her.”
On their walk, a jogger on a stretch break cooed at Chestnut.
“Can I pet your dog?” asked the woman.
Connie reluctantly agreed. Chestnut wasn’t going to get better without practice.
“She’s so sweet,” said the jogger as Chestnut nuzzled closer, wagging her tail. “Does she do any tricks?”
The retriever sat and barked, holding her paw out.
“Isn’t that darling? She’s very well trained.”
“You have no idea,” said Connie, pushing Chestnut gently to one side and retrieving the watch she was sitting on. “Is this yours?”
“Oh, thank you. I must have dropped it.”
“Must have,” said Connie, eyeing Chestnut, who lowered her head and wagged her tail in slow, apologetic circles.
Connie finished up the walk, pausing only to return some jewelry that Chestnut “found” to a woman enjoying the morning on a bench. Back home, Connie found some money tucked in Chestnut’s collar.
“You’re a bad dog,” said Connie.
Chestnut whimpered, but she didn’t mean it. Any jog where they returned home with under a hundred dollars’ worth of merchandise was progress. Connie stuffed the cash into the Bad Dog jar.
“How much this time?” asked Byron as he put the finishing touches on his signature eggs Bowen, which was basically scrambled eggs with Tabasco and some shredded cheddar sprinkled in. Not her favorite, but he was proud of the recipe, so she played along.
“Twenty-three bucks.”
“That’s progress.” Byron set the plates on the table. He offered Chestnut a piece of bacon. She ate it, then curled up on the kitchen floor, wagging her tail.
Connie grabbed a piece of bacon.
“Hello, beautiful,” she said.
“Me, or the bacon?” he asked.
“Don’t make me choose.” She bit into the strip, tossed half of it to Chestnut. “Not that I mind, but aren’t you supposed to be at work?”
“Called in.”
“Oh, sick day. Somebody’s a bad boy.”
“Not that bad,” he replied. “Just told them I’d be in late.”
“Oh, half day,” she said, grabbing a glass of orange juice he’d left on the table for her. “Somebody’s a mildly irresponsible boy.”
“I’ll work late.”
Connie blew him a kiss. “You’re sexy when you’re responsible.”
Which was, she noted, always. Her life had been a series of nonstop adventures. Stability was a luxury she’d never had before. Byron brought that to their relationship. The world might be blowing up, but he was always there. She sometimes wondered what he got out of the deal, but she usually told herself to shut up and not worry about it.
He caught her smiling at him.
“What?” he asked.
“Oh, nothing.”
Connie resisted the urge to put more pepper on her eggs. She chewed a bite and nodded.
“Perfect. As always.”
“So, how was your trip?” he asked.
“Oh, the usual,” she replied.
Where once they might’ve fought over her answer, he knew that she wasn’t hiding anything from him. Her adventure in Shangri-la hadn’t been especially memorable.
“I did learn the four-point quivering palm strike,” she added.
“I thought you already knew that.”
“No, I used the five-point version.”
“So one less point?” he said.
“You’d think it wouldn’t be important until you have to kill a six-hundred-pound ogre with your bare hands,” she said.
“Dinner was nice,” he said.
She nodded.
“Tia and Hiro are great together,” he said. “It’s nice when people find each other.”
“It is.”
Connie paused mid-bite. She knew where this conversation was going. It wasn’t as if she was avoiding it, but she wasn’t overeager. They’d worked out most of the kinks in their relationship. She didn’t want to mess with things.
Byron said, “Did you know, statistically, that when people get married, their friends are more likely to get married?”
And there it was. Unavoidable.
She chewed slowly, wondering what she’d say next. Sometimes, being a woman of action meant surprising even yourself. Times like this.
“Do you want to get married?” she asked.
He laughed. Nervously. “I wasn’t hinting at anything.”
“Yes, you were. Although ‘hint’ might not be the right word.”
“Okay, so I’ve been thinking about it,” he said.
“I’ve been thinking about it,” she replied.
“You have?”
She nodded.
“It’s not like it matters,” he said. “We’re together. Sure, there are legal aspects.”
“Ooh, legal aspects.” Connie leaned closer and kissed him. “You know I love it when you talk about statistics and legal aspects.”
“It’s just easier to do certain things when you’re married. Legally.”
“You’re talking about the thing.”
“Yes. The thing.”
They’d talked about the thing off and on for a while now.
“Do you want to do it?” he asked.
“Yes.”
He dropped his fork. “Wait. You do? Get married? Or the thing?”
“Both.”
He paused, stunned. It was a big deal, another step. She would’ve been stunned too if it didn’t feel right. But it did, and in a life full of chaos, this seemed the opposite of that.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“Yes.”
He processed her answer.
“Are you—”
She kissed him, ran her fingers through his hair. “I’m sure.”
He ran out of the room, practically whooping. He was back with a file folder before she managed to take two more bites.
“Adoption isn’t easy,” he said, “but I’ve done the research. It’ll be easier if we’re married.” He glanced up from the papers. “So we’re getting married?”
“Seems like the sensible thing to do.”
He set the file on the table and ran out of the room again. He was halfway out the kitchen when he turned around and kissed her again.
“I love you.” His face was a wide dopey grin.
She put her hand on his cheek. “I know.”
He left, then returned with a small ring box. “God, I wanted to do this in a cooler way. A romantic dinner. A surprise. I was working on a speech. It’s a first draft. I left it somewhere.”
“Bedside table drawer,” she said.
“You knew? Of course you knew.”
“Also, we’ve talked about it once or twice,” said Connie. “It’s not as if it’s a shocking development at this point.”
He set the box on the table and sighed. “I know. I just had this stupid image in my head of how it was supposed to be, but nothing’s ever how it’s supposed to be with you.”
“Sorry about that,” she said.
“No, it’s fine. It’s one of the things I love about you. Not always. Sometimes, it’s a little frustrating.”
He stopped talking, waiting for her to respond. She didn’t. He was so damned cute when he struggled to fill the silence.
“Not that you’re frustrating,” he said. “You’re amazing. You’ll be an amazing mom. I’ll be an amazing dad. We’ll be amazing and have an amazing kid.”
“One step at a time, maybe,” she said.
“Right, right.” He said, “So I’ve got to go to work, but we’ll talk more about it when I get home.” He glanced at his watch. “I’m late. Love you.”
He gave her a quick peck, grabbed his jacket, and ran out the door.
Chestnut grabbed his briefcase from off the kitchen counter and trotted out of the dining room. Connie heard the front door open again.
“Forgot my… Oh, thanks.”
She heard the door close again. Chestnut returned to her side, and Connie tossed the dog another piece of bacon.