Page 79 of Redeem Me

Ha, I can relate.

Dermot has been texting me incessantly all week to ask if my love bite has healed, if I’ve thought any further about going back to college, and if I’m free to take our parents out to dinner for their ruby wedding anniversary next month. I’d rather bite my own hand off than sit through another family meal, or family intervention, as I prefer to call them.

‘It’s not a good idea. It’s a brilliant idea, don’t worry,’ I reassure him as the receptionist fetches us a week’s worth of dog food and some treats.

Roxy bounds around, nudging the kids playfully with her nose and whacking their backsides with her tail as she shakes her excited ass. If I wasn’t convinced already, the kids’ delighted squeals are enough to change anyone’s mind, maybe even Caelon’s.

And if he’s not happy that I’ve bought them a dog, I welcome his punishment. If the last one was anything to go by, I’m in for a treat.

Chapter Thirty-Four

CAELON

‘What the fuck is that on my couch?’ I zoom in on the camera in the sitting room. My eyes must be deceiving me because it looks as if there’s a sixty-kilogram, ginger, furry, drooling beast on my custom-made Italian couch.

‘I wondered how long it would take for you to check up on me,’ Ivy sing-songs.

I watch on my laptop as she flicks her head towards the camera above the eighty-inch TV screen and waves casually, like she isn’t curled up with a slobbering dog on sixty-grand’s worth of Italian leather.

‘Answer the question, Ivy.’ A vein throbs in my temple. ‘What the fuck is that thing doing on my couch?’

‘She’s not a thing! This is Roxy, our new fur baby.’

‘Is this some sort of fucking joke?’

‘You told the kids they could buy something cool, and this is what they wanted. I’ll take care of her, I promise. She’s already house-trained. And she’s great with the kids. They adore her. Boxers are great family dogs, you know. They also have longer life expectancies than goldfish, so there’s that, too.’

‘Send it back. Get rid of it. It can’t stay.’ I rake my fingers through my hair in despair.

‘Fine, but are you going to tell the kids?’ Ivy beams at the camera and winks.

Orla and Owen race into the sitting room. ‘Is that Daddy on the phone?’ A worried look pinches Orla’s face.

Ivy hands the phone over and my daughter’s voice floods my ear.

‘Please, Daddy, don’t make us get rid of her. She’s my best friend. I love her so much.’

I blow out a breath, rock back in my office chair, and plant my feet on the desk. ‘Put Ivy back on the phone, please.’

‘Love you, Daddy,’ Orla says. She’s good. She might be small, but she already knows how to pull my levers. Beckett genetics run strong. I’m torn between happiness and horror.

‘Love you too, princess.’

By the time Ivy comes back on the line, I’ve come to a decision.

‘Get that thing off my couch. Buy it a kennel, put it in the garden and make sure Jared cleans up its shit. Whatever you do, do not let it back in the house.’

‘Does that mean we can keep it?’ I watch the screen as Ivy pets the dog and kisses its head. For fuck’s sake.

‘Do I have a choice?’ I growl. ‘How can I get rid of it when Owen has finally stopped wetting the bed and Orla has finished mourning the last damn goldfish?’

‘Having a dog will be good for them. Every child should have one.’ Ivy beams at the camera. She’s wearing a pair of tight skinny jeans and an off-the-shoulder t-shirt that reveals the strap of her ivory lace bra. ‘Anyway, how are things going over there? Are you getting everything sorted?’

‘Sadly, not. I’ll be here another few days at least.’ A sharp stabbing lances my chest. I miss her so much.

Ivy pouts and whispers, ‘I miss you. But at least I have someone to curl up with later.’ She snorts as she slides off the couch and leads the dog towards the French doors.

I should be hopping mad at her for letting a four-legged beast wreck my couch. But the truth is, I’m madabouther.

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