Joel
The second we reach the house, Gina sprints toward the kitchen. I offer to take care of breakfast, or at the very least help, but she shoos me away.
“You"re a guest,” she says. “If you really want to help, go keep the puppies company.”
The way she says it, the way she offered me the pup, it’s like she knows about Red, about how much I miss her, how eaten up I’ve been since she died. That’s ridiculous, of course. She couldn’t know, which makes it that much more meaningful.
“Just hang tight,” she says as though I have any other option. “I hope you’re not starving.”
“I’m good,” I tell her.
Her father is not up yet, and I can tell she’s anxious about me meeting him. That or she’s anxious over my offer of marriage. “I’ve never been to Texas,” she says, cracking an egg over the fryin
