Page 29 of One Pucking Heart

“Name them,” Beckett and Ari say in unison before looking at one another and laughing.

I roll my head from shoulder to shoulder in a stretch and release a sigh. “Nice. Now there’s two of you.”

Beckett leans in and kisses me on the cheek. “Sorry. No more teasing. Let’s order. I’m starving. Those pancakes have finally left my stomach.”

“Pancakes?” Ari asks. “As in Marcella’s pancakes?”

“The very ones,” he says.

“Wow. She must really like you. Those are special occasion-only pancakes. They have like eighty-five ingredients and take hours to prepare.”

I hold back a chuckle. “They’re not that complicated. It’s not a big deal.”

Ari pushes her lips out into a pucker. “No. You’re a big deal,” she says to Beckett.

He nods. “I really am.”

“And humble.” She laughs.

“It’s the only way to be,” he teases.

Ari shakes her head. “You are so not my mom’s type.”

“How do you know? You just said I’m the first guy she’s dated. Maybe I’m exactly her type,” Beckett counters.

“Touché.” Ari picks up the menu. “Do you guys know what you want? I’m getting the chicken enchiladas.”

We order, eat, and chat. Ari regales us with stories about the animals she’s been working with at the vet clinic. She wants to adopt a massive Great Pyrenees that she’s been nursing back to health after he came in as a stray with a broken leg, having been hit by a car. I remind her to do what’s best for the dog. That breed would be happiest on a farm with land and some animals to look after, not in a studio apartment with an owner who’s gone twelve hours a day.

“That’s a great breed. You’ll have many people lined up to adopt him and give him a good home,” Beckett states.

Ari sighs. “I know. He already has a bunch of applications.”

“You’ll love all the animals you work with, honey. You can’t adopt them all. At least wait until you’ve finished school and have a job with a set schedule and a home with a yard.”

“He’s just so pretty. I call him Bumble.”

“After the abominable snow monster from Rudolph?” I grin, thinking of all the years Ari and I watched that Christmas movie. It always aired on one of the few channels I could get to come in with the janky antenna I fashioned with some wire and aluminum foil, making it a yearly tradition.

“Yep.”

“I have no doubt Bumble will go to a good family,” I reassure her.

Ari asks Beckett questions about being a professional hockey player, to which he chats her ear off effortlessly. He could talk about that sport for hours, if allowed.

We finish eating, and when the server drops the check off, I look at Beckett. We can’t delay the inevitable any longer.

“Ari, there’s something else we wanted to tell you.”

“What’s that?” She looks at me.

“Well, Beckett and I are… getting married.” I school my features in an attempt to look casual, but it’s no use. My eyes, nose, and mouth pull into a tight scrunch as Ari shouts to me from across the table.

“What?” she yells.

More than a few people look in our direction.

“Shh… it’s okay. It’s a good thing,” I state.

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