Mom, however, would still always be Mom. No debate.
They’d moved in, gotten a puppy—much to Kara’s dismay, as she’d lobbied for an older dog past the chew-and-accident stage. She talked a big game, and had feigned disgust when her son had picked the ugliest, hairiest dog at the rescue shelter. But she spent a majority of her free time carrying around and snuggling with the shaggy mutt Zach had picked out. The love was mutual, as the pup had imprinted largely on Kara, following her around the house like a fuzzy shadow whenever he wasn’t wrestling with Zach.
“Zachary! Zach, get back in here now!” Kara bellowed from the kitchen window into the backyard. “And wipe that dog’s paws off on the towel before you do. You’ve left your school crap everywhere!”
Graham grinned and let his own bag drop on the sofa beside the front door. His cover received better treatment, placing it on the bookshelf where he always did. “Hey.”
Kara whirled on him, her face red and her hands covered in yellow rubber gloves. The front of her T-shirt—the boxing team shirt she’d been given in the hospital—was splotched with wet patches, and her yoga pants were cuffed up, too. “That dog of yours—”
“Zach’s dog.”
“That dog of yours,” she repeated, “has driven me to the mad house today. And that kid has lost his mind if I am going to think for one second about adding another dog so the first one isn’t ‘lonely.’” She blew out a raspberry. “I kicked them both out of the house, only to realize he’d left yet another mess for me to clean up.”
“The dog or Zach?” he asked with a smile. “Okay, okay. Let me change and I’ll come help. Just point me in the right direction and I’ll help clean up.”
“Just pick a spot!” she yelled after him as he went back to the bedroom to change from his uniform to jeans and a T-shirt. As he came back, she pointed with one gloved hand at the table. “What’s that?”
He picked up the thick envelope, and the small but heavy box. “The box is our wedding invitations. The printer called before I left work, so I swung by and grabbed them.”
“Oh.” She ran to the kitchen sink and tossed the gloves under the cabinet, washing up before hurrying back to sit with him at the kitchen table. “Let me see, let me see. Gimme.”
“You know,” he said conversationally as he pulled out his pocket knife and slid through the tape sealing the box, “for a woman who avoided my advances for weeks, and insisted we couldn’t get married, you’re very attached to the planning of this wedding.”
“Well, I’m only doing it once. You’re stuck, buddy. And I want to make sure it’s right. Oh,” she breathed as he opened it fully and she saw the top invitation. Printed with silver lettering, it was delicate, simple, classic . . . exactly what Kara exemplified in Graham’s mind. “They’re perfect.”
The wording had been difficult, as custom dictated the invitation include both sets of parents’ names. Graham felt odd having just his parents included, and had been grateful when his mother and father had agreed to be left off the formal invites to spare Kara the awkwardness. They’d loved her when they’d come to visit two weeks earlier, and had been delighted with Zach.
Not as delighted with the puppy. On that, they sided with Kara.
“Three months from tomorrow,” she said, running her fingertips over the raised date. “Fast.”
“Not fast enough, far as I’m concerned.” He kissed her cheek, then pulled the other envelope out. “And this, I picked up after the printer’s.”
“You’re quite the errand boy,” she said absently, still looking through the invitation box, now focused on the envelopes.
“It’s not wedding invitations, but it’s something. I picked it up from Tasha’s office.”
That got her attention. She pushed the box of invitations to the side and scooted her chair closer. “What is it?”
“Papers are signed, and a court date has been set. It’s not a guarantee, but it’s going in the right direction so far. She’s confident it will all turn out.”
Her eyes filled as she looked through the copies of original paperwork that would forever sever the ties she and Zach had with his biological father. The man was a first-class asshole, and he’d never have a place in their lives. But Graham understood that even with a situation like that, there were emotions involved. “You okay?”
“Hmm? Oh, yes. I’m good. This is a good thing. Sorry.” She knuckled away a stray tear. “Just really, you know . . . it’s a lot.”
“It is.” He held her a moment, let her gain her composure. “I talked to Greg today, gave him a heads-up on the wedding date so they can plan ahead. He said to count him and Reagan in.”
“That’s funny, because I talked to Marianne. It sounds like California agrees with her . . . though I have a feeling much of that is being with Brad and less about the geography. She’s settling in nicely at the university. Division II athletes seem like a breeze after handling you guys.”
“Yeah, no kidding. We were a pretty high maintenance bunch.”