AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Oh.” That was strange.
“Is that a problem?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Silence again, until he cleared his throat.
“Lancelot is miserable when he’s away from Guinevere.”
“It’s the same with Guinevere.”
“Do you think we should do something about it? For the sake of the dogs, I mean?”
“What did you have in mind?” Mary stopped breathing. She wanted to hear every nuance of what he had in mind.
He was quiet so long this time she thought she must be turning blue in the face.
“I could put a few more things in the Jag when I comeovertomorrow.Youknow,soIwon’tberunning back and forth all the time.”
A few more things to go with some of his favorite suits, which were already hanging in her closet, and the dry-cleaned shirts on the way. “You could do that.”
Mary’s smile felt as though it stretched from one sideofhermouthtotheotherandaroundthebackof her head to the front, where it continued from where it started. She tried not to thrust her fist in the air, pump it and shout “Yesssss!”
He wanted to move in. Providing he didn’t scare himself to death first by saying the actual words.
She had to stay realistic about this. People moved in together all the time and moved out a week or a month later. But oh, it would be wonderful to see him more. Laugh with him more. Love with him more.
Could he say any of that to her? Of course not. Absolutely not.
He was so — he must never hear her say this — cute.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Moving Van
V
AN SAT IN HISvintage Jaguar in Mary’s driveway, rolled down the top and pretended he wasn’t quaking. Lancelot was on the floor, curled up on the near-bullet-proof tarp Van had draped everywhere in case the canine couldn’t keep his paws’ nails to himself, or decided this was one of his days to drool. Van’s suitcase was on the passenger seat, with a few neatly packed boxes on top. A small duffle bag was tucked away in what passed for the car’s trunk.
So, here they both were. Sitting in the Jag, parkedinthedriveway.Justcatchingtheirrespective breaths until they both took the step of — moving in. With a woman.
There. He’d said it. Even if it was just in his own mind. Maybe he should try … Yeah, he should. “Here we are,” he said aloud to Lancelot. “We’re — moving in.”
There. That wasn’t so bad.
He felt better still when he tightened his tie and tucked it more smoothly into his vest.
There. Okay. It was time —
Before he could finish his pep talk to himself, Guinevere burst out of Mary’s house, with Mary racing behind.
“Guinevere! Stop! Van! I’m sorry! Don’t let her jump on your car!”
Too late.
She didn’t just jump on the car. She jumped in. Or tried to. The way Van saw it, his two-seat Jag didn’t have room for much more than a Saint Bernard foot, even if she had been able to get in with the boxes on the seat and in her way.
