Page 142 of The Goat in the Bedroom
“You can't just casually drop theoretical children into conversation.”
“I can when I'm thinking about our future.”
“Our future with goats and children?”
“And at least three dogs. Bear the Fourth needs cousins to come visit. We've discussed this.”
We hadn't discussed any of this, but as I stood there with her, watching my family celebrate Isak's moment, watching him and Fox Daws exchange numbers while planning off-season workouts, I realized we didn't need to. Some things you just knew.
Like how we'd probably end up with too many animals and a house full of chaos. Like how our kids would grow up with an army of aunts and uncles and cousins, spending New Year's atbowl games, learning to throw footballs and rugby balls in equal measure.
Like how this, all of this, was exactly where we were supposed to be.
“Come on,” I said, taking her hand. “Let's go celebrate with the family.”
“Our family,” she corrected.
“Yeah,” I agreed, pulling her toward the chaos of Kingmans. “Our family.”
As we joined the celebration, as Dad started telling everyone about his bowl game victories, as my brothers organized another round of pictures, as Isak tried to escape to the locker room only to be dragged back by his brothers, I thought about what Dad had said in the parking lot.
About being anchored-to-the-world happy.
He was right. Success was one thing. Taking care of people was another.
But this? Being chosen, being loved, being part of something bigger than yourself while still being completely yourself?
This was happiness.
And I was never letting it go.
RED CARPET ROLLOUT
ARTEMIS
“Stop moving,” Jules commanded, wielding a curling iron like a weapon. “You're going to make me burn your ear off.”
I tensed every muscle to hold still because ear mutilation did not go with this dress. “I'm not moving.”
“You're literally vibrating with nervous energy.”
She wasn't wrong. The premiere ofRookie Risingwas in two hours, and I was trying not to think about the fact that millions of people were about to watch the most vulnerable months of our lives play out on screen.
“There,” Jules stepped back, admiring her work. “Now for the dress.”
The dress was a deep purple number that hugged every curve before flowing into a dramatic train. The neckline plunged just enough to be daring, and the back was completely open except for delicate crystal chains. When I'd tried this on in Rose Vond's boutique, I'd felt like a warrior goddess.
“Holy shit,” Jules breathed when I emerged from the bathroom. “Gryff is going to swallow his tongue.”
“It's not about Gryff.”
“Sure it's not.” She smirked. “That's why you're showing so much sexy, hottie-liscious skin.”
Before I could protest, we heard voices from the living room. Flynn and Tempest had arrived, which meant everyone was ready to go and we really were going to walk a red carpet with photographers and everything. Nobody ever said being friends with the Kingmans was going to be boring or normal.
“You ready?” Gryff called. “The car will be here in?—“
He stopped mid-sentence when I walked into the living room. The glass of water in his hand tilted dangerously.
