The Wall of Winnipeg and Me - Mariana Zapata Page 0,169

around his neck and tell him in as soothing of a voice as I could get together, “I know, big guy. I know,” even as another round of tears came out of my eyes and possibly some snot out of my nose.

The miraculous part was that he let me. Aiden sat there and let me hug him, let me put my cheek over the top of his head and let him know it was okay. Maybe it happened because we’d just been talking about the faulty relationships we had with our families or maybe it was because a child losing its mother was just about the saddest thing in the world, especially when it was an innocent animal, I don’t know. But it was sad as shit.

He sniffed—on any other person smaller than him it would have been considered a sniffle—and I squeezed my arms around him a little tighter before going back to my side of the bed where we finished watching the movie. Then he turned to look at me with those endless brown eyes. “Stay here tonight,” he’d murmured, and that was that.

Had I wanted to go to my room? Not when I was lying in the most comfortable bed I’d ever slept on, snuggled under warm sheets. What was I going to do? Play hard to get? I wasn’t that dumb. So I stayed, and Aiden eventually turned off the lights save for the one in the en suite, and we finally shared a brief “good night.”

If I didn’t know Aiden any better, I would have figured he’d been embarrassed to have gotten so sad over a cartoon, but I knew him. He didn’t get shy.

But he hadn’t said a word about needing a moment or asking me to get out of his bed.

Now, we were facing each other and we both knew what the other was thinking about. Neither one of us was going to say anything about it though.

I gave him a gradual smile, trying to play it off. “Thanks for letting me sleep in here with you.”

He did something that looked like a shrug, but since his arms were still up past his head, I couldn’t be sure. “You don’t take up any room.” He yawned again. “You don’t snore. You didn’t bother me.”

I’m not sure what it said about me that I felt clearheaded and way too well rested. Mostly though, I felt antsy like a little kid.

“Do you want your present now? Or later?” I asked, knowing that I damn well wanted to give him his present now. I was so giddy, and the reality that I was probably more excited than he was going to be was a real predicament, but…

Who cared? If he didn’t want it, I would keep it. I’d love the hell out of the eight-week-old puppy downstairs if he didn’t. It was a golden retriever because I knew he was going to need to be the sweetest thing in the universe to put up with Aiden’s bullshit.

“Later is fine,” he said like a true adult instead of like a little kid eager to open his presents on Christmas morning.

For a split second, I felt totally disappointed. But only for a split second before I made a decision. “Too bad. Don’t leave the room. I’ll be back in a second.”

I hopped out of bed and practically ran toward the laundry room downstairs. I fished the little yellow guy out of his crate and cursed when I realized he’d pooped and laid on it. Actually, it looked like he’d rolled around in it. “Damn it.”

I gave him a kiss on the head anyway and then ran up the stairs to give him a bath, only stopping by my room to pick up the bow I’d bought for him that had been sitting in my nightstand drawer for the last week since I’d put down a deposit on him. I couldn’t give Aiden a poopy puppy, could I?

Just as I made it to the bathroom, I yelled, “Give me fifteen minutes, big guy!”

Rolling up my sleeves, I gave the little guy a few more kisses on his soft head and waited for the water to warm up enough. The second it was ready, I grabbed the bottle of honey almond puppy shampoo and began lathering him up. Considering I hadn’t given a dog a bath ever, it was a lot harder than it seemed. He had too much energy. He peed inside the tub. He kept jumping up on