Page 59 of Something Like Shelter

“It feels like that. But he’s a ham and loves you two, so I know he will probably be happier with you than home with me. Alright. I’ll get going. Thanks again, honey.”

Then he just… strode away.

Like my belly wasn’t a swarm of butterflies at the endearment.

My hand went to my stomach as I watched the door he disappeared through until, finally, Adelaide let out a cry.

“I know. She’s up, huh?” I said as Tuna came running over to me, whining. Like he was trying to let me know that the baby was awake. “Let’s go get her, huh?”

I brought my coffee and a donut over to the living room where I picked up Adelaide and got her latched, sighing in relief as the pressure eased.

Tuna jumped up on the couch beside me, resting his head on my leg as Adelaide nursed and I ate a donut and drank my coffee.

“Did your dad feed you yet?” I asked Tuna. “I don’t want to bother him. Maybe you can just have some food, huh? Better a little too much food than not enough, I guess.”

With that, I changed Adelaide and set her down to play with her toes and make her silly little noises while I fed a very eager Tuna.

It was a simple day—taking a shower, cleaning, and running the wash and dishwasher in between feedings. But it was a slightly more enjoyable chore day with a tail-wagging Tuna in tow.

We took a walk before the heat of the day set in, had some lunch, played in the backyard, and gave Adelaide a much-needed bath with Tuna keeping a watchful eye on the whole process.

After his dinner, we had a rest, then a long walk before it got dark, before heading home, where I got the idea to order a spread for a late dinner. In the hopes of being able to offer food to Owen after a long day of work.

Sure enough, about twenty minutes after the food arrived, Owen called to tell me he was on his way.

“It’s me,” Owen called as he came in the front door.

“In here,” I called, playing at plating my food as if it had just arrived. “That bad, huh?” I asked when I got a look at him.

“Just a long day,” he said, leaning over to greet his dog.

“Did you have a chance to have dinner? I have more than enough. Roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, mac & cheese, corn, and green beans.”

It was manly food. The kind of sustenance one wanted after a long day of manual labor.

Owen looked ready to groan. “If you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. Sit,” I said, waving to the table.

Instead, he leaned against the counter as I finished plating the food.

“How was he?”

“A perfect angel. Though, I may have fed him breakfast and lunch because I didn’t know how often you fed him.”

“Twice a day. And he had breakfast. But the pig will eat whatever is given to him.”

“Whoops. We did take two walks and played ball in the backyard, though, so he burned off some of that extra food. How was your day?”

Owen exhaled hard.

“That good, huh?”

“The homeowners had a miscommunication about who was supposed to put the cat up and where. So, of course, when I had the whole front of the house opened up again, it took advantage of that and escaped. I spent over an hour tracking it down, then using my ladder to get up the tree to grab it before I could get back to work.”

“Thank goodness you got it back.”

“I was not looking forward to having to tell that couple and their kids that I lost their cat.”