Page 134 of The Book Club Boyfriend
“Ten-ninety,” I counter.
“Deal.”
I know he’s going to show up with a puppy anyway. Probably next week. Definitely named something ridiculous like Zamboni Jr. or Slap Shot.
And I’ll pretend to be mad for exactly five minutes before falling completely in love with it.
Because that’s what we do. We bicker, we compromise, and we build something messy, chaotic, and absolutely perfect.
“For what it’s worth,” Mom says quietly, watching us with Owen, “you two are going to be wonderful parents. When you’re ready.”
“Mom—”
“Or puppy parents. Whatever comes first.”
Chase beams. “See? Your mom’s on board with the puppy plan.”
“I’m divorcing all of you,” I announce.
But when Chase wraps his free arm around me, Owen babbling happily between us, Rip wagging his tail at our feet, and my parents actually smiling at each other across the room...
Yeah.
I’m not going anywhere.
Even if he does come home with that puppy.
(He definitely will.)
(I’ll definitely love it.)
(But he doesn’t need to know that yet.)
Epilogue II
Later That Night
Chase
The house is finally quiet. Rip is snoring from his bed in the corner, probably dreaming about all the turkey he charmed out of Scarlett’s parents. The dishwasher hums in the kitchen—normal, domestic sounds that sometimes catch me off guard, making me realize that this is my actual life.
Scarlett is already in bed when I come out of the bathroom, propped against the headboard with her laptop, glasses perched on her nose. She only wears them late at night when her contacts start bothering her, and I love that I’m the only one who gets to see her like this.
“Still working?” I ask, sliding under the covers.
“Just reviewing the copyedits on book seven.” She doesn’t look up, but her foot finds mine under the blanket. “My editor wants to know if the hero really needs to apologize three times in the final chapter.”
“Does he?”
“Probably. He was kind of a dick in chapter twelve.”
I shift closer, my arm sliding around her waist. “Based on anyone I know?”
She finally looks at me over her glasses, fighting a smile. “Chase Remington would never lock the heroine out of the practice rink.”
“True. I’d probably just steal her coffee and make her chase me for it.”
“Which you literally did last Tuesday.”
