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"When I saw the goal," she said, "I screamed so loud poor Cooper was jarred awake and he knocked his water bowl over."

I laughed and pulled her closer. "You will be there next time and Cooper can sleep in peace."

"I will be there. I promise."

"I know."

She pressed her face into my chest while Cooper climbed up onto the couch and wedged himself into the only space available for him and rested his head on Lillah's lap. It didn't take long for the three of us to fall asleep on the couch, the TV muted, casting blue light across the ceiling. I woke once. Lillah was still sound asleep against my chest, her breathing slow and rhythmic, while Cooper snored. I closed my eyes, letting myself feel how lucky I was. I was exactly where I wanted to be, and I would always fight for it if I needed to.

CHAPTER TWENTY

LILLAH

It had been two months since our reconciliation on the kitchen island. Things between us seemed to have changed overnight from that point. My career was thriving, and I was in the last phase of the Andersen project. The brownstone looked stunning. I'd been referred to two more clients, and Mr. Andersen had introduced me to three of his neighbors. I now had six projects in my pipeline, two of them because of Marshall's post, but four were from pure word of mouth.

Winters Design was becoming a name that people would recognize.

Marshall was on fire. The Enforcers had clinched a playoff spot with only four games left in the regular season, and he was now being mentioned in serious conversations for the Most Valuable Player award. He finalized his contract extension last week, which meant he'd be here at least three more years with the Enforcers, with a pay raise that made my eyes water when he told me over breakfast.

Then there was us.

We had settled into something peaceful. Something steady. We spent most nights together, either at my place or his. We cooked together, walked Cooper together through the neighborhood, and every night we fell asleep tangled together and woke when his alarm went off at four thirty. I had learned to love early mornings because it meant I could spend extra time with him.

He'd moved more things into my place: a toothbrush, clothes, sneakers for his morning runs that Cooper had tried to eat twice. My things were at his place. My robe, one of my favorite coffee mugs he'd gotten me when he was gone for an away game, and one of my favorite plush blankets had a home on the back of his couch.

Tonight was special; Mila was coming for dinner, and I was going to introduce her to Marshall. I knew she was going to be watching him, performing her best-friend assessment to see if Marshall was everything I said.

I was nervous, and not because I doubted Marshall. I was past waiting for the next shoe to drop. I was nervous because Mila's opinion mattered to me. She was the first person I'd called when I'd left Brett. She was the one on the phone with me in the middle of the night and the one who'd driven across the country to get me from her mother's house. Her approval was a requirement.

I wanted her to see what I saw. The man under the hockey player. The one who loved Cooper so much that he always came home with duck jerky and the occasional toy, and the one who gave me space when I needed it, which was now becoming less and less.

Marshall arrived at five to help me set things up. He knocked once and walked in wearing jeans and the dark henley I loved; it fit him in a way that should have been illegal. He carried a bottle of wine and a new bag of duck jerky in the other hand.

"You didn't need to bring any wine. I already have three bottles." I said, pressing my lips against his.

"Well, it's not for you. It's for Mila. Tara recommended it, she told me it's the one you bring when you're trying to impress your girl's best friend and you value your life."

I laughed. "You asked Tara for wine advice?"

"I asked Tara, Chelsea, and Margaux. All three of them said the same thing. They also told me not to screw this up. They like you."

"Sounds like they like you too," I said, watching as Marshall opened the bag of jerky and pulled out a piece.

"They tolerate me, but they love you."

I laughed and kissed him quickly and put the wine in the fridge to chill as he whistled at Cooper. Cooper looked over, and Marshall tossed the piece of jerky to him.

While I worked on dinner, Marshall set the table and then headed into the backyard to set up the lights we'd gotten for the patio. I watched him through the window, stringing the lights along the fence. Then, without complaint, or me having to ask, he scooped up all the dog waste he could find in the backyard. I could still see his face the night we first met after he'd pounded on my door late at night, furious, thinking Cooper had made the deposit in his front yard, which brought a smile to my face.

If someone had told me that the angry neighbor who'd shown up at my door blaming my dog would be outside right now, voluntarily cleaning up after the same dog after stringing lights for a dinner party with my best friend, I'd have told them they were crazy.

Once he had finished, he came inside and washed his hands.

"That dog produces an unreasonable amount of…"

"Don't finish that sentence, you'll hurt his feelings." I whispered.

"I'm saying for an animal who eats grain free human grade duck jerky by the pound, you'd think the output would be…"