Beyond These Walls (The Walls Duet #2)(63)

I groaned.

“A puppy? Really? You want to adopt a puppy . . . now? Can’t we just do something easy, like rake leaves?”

She gave me a doubtful look and laughed. “First of all, we’re in California . . . in the springtime. Do you see any leaves, genius?”

My lips curved into a grin at her sarcasm.

“Secondly, I don’t see why now isn’t the perfect time to get a puppy. It will give us great practice for the baby.” She shrugged, placing a hand on her belly. She’d successfully transitioned into her second trimester with little fuss and fanfare.

Well into her fourth month, the pregnancy was going well—too well.

It made me antsy, nervous.

“You want to practice your parenting skills on a puppy? How is that the same?” I argued, knowing it was completely pointless.

“Well, they’re both tiny and require constant care and love. And I thought a dog might keep me company when you’re gone next week,” she added.

Stupid annual board meeting.

Roman had said I didn’t need to go, but guilt mixed with doubt that my brother could actually handle everything on his own had me booking a flight and leaving my pregnant wife—something I had sworn I wouldn’t do.

“Okay, grab your shoes. Let’s go get you a dog,” I grumbled.

She jumped up, shrieking and laughing. “You’ll be just as excited as I am. Just wait. Once you see all those cute little puppies, you’ll turn into a puddle of goo.”

I gave her a doubtful sideways glance as she scurried off into the bedroom to find a pair of shoes. Grabbing the journal off the couch, I flipped through the pages, seeing all the numbers we’d managed to cross out over the last two years. It brought back a flood of memories with each scratch of the pen—the day we’d visited the Met or the afternoon we’d spent paddle boating around the lake at Central Park. I smiled as I saw the ones she’d recently drawn a line through as we’d made this book our goal over the last few weeks. My fingers moved from line to line, recalling each moment we had spent together.

It was like a retelling of our love story.

72. HAVE MY HEART BROKEN.

That was one that hurt to see crossed out, knowing I was the reason it had been fulfilled. But it was something I couldn’t regret. If I hadn’t walked away, she wouldn’t be here right now.

Carrying my child.

Possibly facing death—again.

“You ready to go?” Lailah asked, startling me.

“What? Oh, yes, let’s go!” I answered, quickly recovering.

Taking her hand, we headed for the car, feeling the crisp ocean breeze blowing through our hair, as we walked down the driveway. I breathed in deeply, letting the smell of the water and air fill my lungs. The smell of the beach was something I’d missed while living in New York, and now that I could simply step out onto my deck and take my fair share whenever I needed, I secretly never wanted to leave. I loved what I did, working for a company that had my family’s name on it, but the farther I got from the city, the less and less I wanted to return.

As we settled into the car, I realized I had no idea where we were headed.

“So, where does one go to get a puppy?” I asked, looking over at her for guidance.

She burst into laughter but covered her mouth quickly, trying to stop. “Oh, you really are from a wealthy family, aren’t you, babe?”

“What? I mean, do we go to the mall? Petco? Hell, I don’t know.” I held up my hands in defense.

“We could go to lots of places. But there are animal shelters everywhere. I found one online that looks incredible and has a huge selection right now.”

“Okay, lead the way,” I instructed, backing out of the driveway.

She began giving directions.

The place wasn’t too far away, maybe twenty minutes with traffic. We parked close to the entrance, and as we walked toward the door, I stopped.

Turning to face her, I asked, “You’re going to adopt the most pitiful, grungiest-looking puppy in there, aren’t you?”

“Why would you say that?”

“Because you have a thing for the underdog.”

“You weren’t an underdog,” she challenged, her hands going to her hips defiantly.

“I wasn’t much,” I said.

Her hand cupped my cheek. “Looks can be deceiving. And you were more than I could have possibly imagined—even if you didn’t have the Cavanaugh last name.”

I kissed her forehead and wove my fingers around hers. “Come on. Let’s go find a puppy.”

I was right.

After an hour of deliberation, she’d settled on a shy, scraggly little fuzzball that looked like he had been eaten alive by all his fur.

“Isn’t he the cutest thing in the world?” Lailah crooned, holding him in her lap in the car.

He curled up in her arms, his little nose peeking out just beyond the crook of her arm.

“He’s goofy-looking,” I replied.

“He’s adorable!” she scolded.

I laughed. “Okay, I’ll admit, he’s kind of cute—in a weird, fluffy sort of way. Can that stuff even be brushed?” I asked, pointing to the sporadic tufts of fur that sprung out in every direction off his body.

“I think he needs a bath. Maybe a trip to a groomer? I don’t know. He’s perfect just the way he is,” she said lovingly.