Page 132 of Keeping the Score

I grin.

There’s more puppy and child commotion around us and while Ford cooks I deal with that, until Grandma and Grandpa (Archibald) come and take Tilly and my parents take Kiki. I move around and talk to the other WAGs who are there, sip a glass of wine, and occasionally supervise the barbecue.

Just as we’re about to eat, the thunderstorm that’s been threatening all day arrives with a loud clap of thunder. Rain pelts down as everyone grabs stuff and runs for the house.

“Oh, noooo!” I cry as I try to corral a frisky pup and a toddler who wants to stand in the rain.

Inside, everyone’s laughing and shaking water off themselves.

“It couldn’t have held off just a little longer?” I complain.

“It’s fine,” Ford says. “We’ll just move in here.”

I give him a long look.

“What?”

I grin. “You’rethe one calmingmedown about the change in plans.”

“He’s a new man,” Ben says with a laugh and a clap on Ford’s shoulder. “Mr. Chill.”

“As if,” Mabel scoffs. “He’s still as anal as ever.”

“Don’t say that word.” Ben winces.

Mabel bursts out laughing. “Why, honey? What’s wrong with it?”

“Uh oh. Someone had a bad experience,” Crusher speaks up. “You need lots of lube for that, you know.”

It’s a good thing our kitchen is big, as everyone crowds around the island. Ford finds an umbrella and goes out to finish cooking. Our dining table isn’t big enough for everyone, but we all find places to sit. Ford sits with Tilly, cutting up her hot dog, dishing out some pasta from the salad for her. It’s a little chaotic and not exactly what I planned, but it’s fine.

Later, when our guests have departed, Tilly’s in bed, and Kiki is conked out on the rug in the living room, Ford takes my hand and pulls me through the living room and into the TV room, which has a built-in desk at one end. This is his office. Apparently, he needs an office.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“I have something to show you.”

“Oooh. That sounds fun.”

“Okay, who’s the perv now?”

I laugh. “I can’t top you.”

“True. But I’m a perv in a romantic way.”

I kiss his cheek.

He picks up an envelope off the desk, opens it, and hands me some papers.

“What is this?” I glance up at him.

“The paperwork for you to adopt Tilly.”

I suck in a breath and press my hand to my throat where my heart has lodged.

It’s not a surprise. We talked about it. I want to do it. He wants me to do it. We cried.

But it’s really happening.

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