Page 167 of Off the Pitch

HugoYou can get those?

HugoYES! But I’d insist on tasting many, many cheeses to make sure we got the best ones ;)

KitObviously! I would allow nothing less beloved <3

Hugo

“Nessie! Nessie, come here!” I tried not to laugh as I watched my new husband chasing our very naughty border collie across the castle lawn, attempting to retrieve whatever she’d stolen from the wedding reception.

“Beloved,” Kit said, turning to me and smiling sweetly, his cheeks flushed from exertion. “Please summon your cherished hell spawn whom I love dearly.”

“You know,mon coeur, I suggested those puppy classes for a reason,” I said, chuckling and walking over to him, straightening his tartan tie and then using it to pull him in for a deep kiss. We’d been married for just over an hour, and all I wanted to do was keep kissing him.

“Yes, yes, you were right, and I was horribly wrong to think I could train her myself. But in all fairness, she was never going to listen to me over you. She loves you too much. She’s definitely daddy’s girl. Or maybe it’s because you’re a deplorable soft touch who spoils her rotten?” He raised a challenging eyebrow at me and poked me gently in the chest, just above the buttons of my waistcoat.

I laughed. “It’s probably the second one.”

“I thought so.” He sighed and shook his head.

Kit had been the one who’d suggested we get a dog. Well, more like insisted. We’d considered shelters and started to think about what type of dog would suit us, when we’d stumbled across Nessie.

We’d been up in Scotland for another holiday, on the west coast this time, exploring some of the smaller islands dotted along the coast. The family who owned the holiday cottage we’d stayed in had a working pair of border collies who’d just had a litter. They’d been about the right age for rehoming, but Nessie was the runt and they hadn’t had an offer for her. I’d taken one look at her cheeky, fluffy face and large, dark eyes and my heart had been stolen.

I’d bought her on the spot and taken her back to London with us. And I hadn’t been able to resist naming her after Scotland’s most famous monster, especially because the place had become so special to us.

Technically she wasourdog, but it had become plainly obvious that she loved me more than Kit. Kit often joked that he had to share me, and despite the fact that he adored her, he’d actually put his foot down about rules and said she wasn’t allowed on our bed. Mostly because he’d thought he wouldn’t be allowed in it if Nessie got to claim the space.

That had been three and a half years ago, and now Nessie was still cheeky and fluffy and also three times the size she’d been, with a definite naughty streak that I could never get cross with her about. As long as she didn’t willfully destroy anything or pee in the house, I let her get away with just about anything.

Kit was right. I was an absolute soft touch.

“Nessie,” I called, turning to look where she was lying in the grass, watching her adorable black and white face as she considered my request. Someone had tied some tartan ribbon that matched the ties Kit and I were wearing onto her collar, and it made my heart melt. “Nessie, come here baby.”

Nessie looked at me, hopped up, and trotted across the lawn, plonking herself at my feet in her best impression of a sit. Kit looked at me and raised an eyebrow. “Oh, yes, you’re not the favourite at all.”

He pulled a dark leather lead out of his pocket and clipped it to her collar, handing it to me. “Come on, we’ve got photographs to take. Dan wants to do them before it pours it down, and those dark clouds suggest that might be sooner rather than later.”

“We’ve gotten wet before,” I said, taking his hand in mine. “I don’t think it would matter.”

“Wow, Hugo Serin not fussed about a tailor-made suit being ruined? You are in a good mood today.”

“Of course. I just married the love of my life.” I pulled him in for another kiss and Nessie whined at my feet.

“You’re too smooth,” Kit said, a hint of a blush decorating his skin. It made me want to kiss every little bit of him. “You might find that it gets you into trouble.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it.” I smirked at him, making mischief dance in my eyes.

Somewhere in the distance thunder rumbled, heralding the arrival of a late-summer storm. Two seconds later, our photographer, Dan, appeared, accompanied by David who was holding three rather large umbrellas.

“We might need these,” David said, looking up at the sky and frowning.

“Hugo’s already said he doesn’t mind getting wet,” Kit replied with a laugh.

“Well he might not mind, but I do. I didn’t bring a spare suit! There wasn’t room in the suitcases with all Elsie’s stuff,” David grumbled, but it was half-hearted at best. At nine-months old, Elsie King had both of her fathers wrapped around her tiny fingers. It was sweet to see how much Christian and David adored her.

“Oh… neither did we, actually.” Kit frowned. “Probably best if we don’t get too soaked then. I don’t think it would look right if I did the rest of the wedding reception in my pyjamas. I mean, they are very nice pyjamas, but they’ve got penguins on them, and it’s probably not the look we’re going for. I think my mother would actually have a heart attack!”

I laughed. Kit and his parents had slowly begun to patch up their relationship over the past few years. It hadn’t been easy, and they still had a lot of differences of opinion, but they’d started to be more supportive, and his mother had even admitted, after several glasses of wine one lunchtime, that maybe they’d been wrong about Kit’s art career.

---