Page 50 of Always Almost You

Gwen snorted. “I remember stepping on Legos with bare feet when we were growing up. Now I suppose it’s my turn to do it all again.” She gave Mike a playful nudge with her elbow and snapped another photo.

Buddy lay stretched out on the rug in his flannel pajamas, chin resting on his paws, watching the chaos like a benevolent monarch.

Gwen pivoted toward her brother. “I am absolutely getting a picture of you and Buddy in those pajamas.”

Mike froze, his mug halfway to his lips.

“If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes,” Gwen continued, “I would never have believed this.”

“Am I really that much of a stick in the mud?” Mike asked, setting his mug down.

Gwen lowered her phone and raised her eyebrows.

The boys looked up, intrigued.

Mike groaned but pushed himself to his feet. “Buddy,” he called. Buddy sprang up, tail wagging, clearly sensing his presence was important for something.

Mike dropped to one knee beside him. His pajama pants pooled on the floor, mirrored by the smaller but equally festive flannel on Buddy’s broad frame. “Sit,” Mike commanded.

Buddy sat tall and proud.

“Smile!” Gwen called.

Mike draped an arm around Buddy’s neck just as Buddy turned his head and licked his chin.

Click.

“Perfect!” Gwen laughed. “Wait, one more. Look at each other.”

Mike obliged, turning to Buddy. The dog gazed back at him with unwavering devotion.

Click.

“And one where you both look ridiculous.”

Buddy’s tongue lolled out. Mike let out an exaggerated sigh.

Click.

Gwen lowered the phone, wiping at her eyes. “This is the greatest Christmas gift I’ve ever received.”

“As long as you don’t post that anywhere,” Mike warned.

“What?” Gwen gasped theatrically. “Why would I ever do that?”

“Because you’re you.”

She grinned wickedly. “Maybe I’ll just keep it for future leverage.”

“Blackmail?” Mike asked.

“Absolutely.”

“Buddy,” Mike muttered, scratching behind his ears, “we may need to stage a counteroffensive.”

Buddy thumped his tail in agreement.

Their mother smiled from her chair, watching her grown son in festive pajamas on the floor beside a dog he’d adopted less than forty-eight hours earlier.