Billy & The Beast (Ever After, New York #3) - Eli Easton Page 0,50

then got to his feet and began to lap up the water.

“Good boy, Jack. Good boy,” Billy cooed, stroking his back. “Drink it all, buddy.”

Jack paused a few times, but he finished the bowl. He laid back down, now on his side. Billy scooted so he could lift Jack’s head into his lap.

“What if we’re too late?” I asked, my voice a whisper.

“I don’t think we are. When a dog eats something poisonous, it takes two hours to pass through its stomach. If you can get them to vomit it up before then, they should be okay.” Billy gave me a reassuring smile, despite his worried eyes.

“How do you know that? You’re not in vet school yet.”

He shrugged. “I follow a number of vet and animal hospital blogs. It’s interesting. This type of thing is super common, especially around Christmas. Mostly dogs getting into chocolate, but the principle should apply.”

I must have looked dubious because he nudged my arm. “It supposedly takes twenty minutes for this to work. So go ahead and look it up. You’ll feel better.”

He knew me so well. Twenty minutes would kill me. So while he stroked Jack’s head and back, babbling nonsense to him, I looked it up on my phone. Yup. Billy was right in every regard.

There was nothing more to be done until Jack puked, so I lay down on the floor next to him, my head also in Billy’s lap. Jack was panting harder than usual, but not shaking. I put my arm around him.

“I can’t lose him now.”

“I know. You won’t.”

Billy stroked my hair too. It was funny, and absurd, but it felt nice.

I can’t lose you either, I thought. I had strange sensation then. It was like a déjà vu, only a flash-forward.

I saw Billy at thirty, at forty, working as a vet, wearing a white coat and comforting an animal, just as he was doing now. He would look boyish for a long time, I thought. He was the type who would only grow handsomer as the years went by, his youthful face enhanced by a touch of gray at his temples.

And always, at any age, he would be kind. He would be caring and funny and thoughtful. Just a perfectly ordinary, perfectly wonderful person.

And I saw, too, what our life could be together. Him coming home to me at night, our quiet dinners, snuggles on the couch, vacations together, reading in bed. He would always be loyal, never looking out for something better. And he would always, always be there for me. Just as he was here for me now, and here for Jack. It was his essential nature.

In the end, the world was a big and cold place. I saw now that the best relationship, a true relationship, the person you wanted to join hands with to walk forward in life, was not about wealth, or looks, or fabulous clothes, or prestigious awards. It was about the simple act of being there, with your whole honest self—no matter what, no matter when. Forgiving the worst in the other. Seeing the best.

God, my father would have loved Billy. He was exactly the sort of substantial, grounded person he’d always wanted me to meet. And I hadn’t understood what he’d meant. For a moment it hurt that my father would never know Billy, would never see that I’d managed to get my head out of my ass and found something of real value.

Jack’s sides began to heave. I sat up quickly and Billy and I watched the pooch get to his feet. Billy ran for a towel and laid it on the floor so Jack could soil it and not the rug.

Jack yakked up everything in his stomach, coughing and vomiting for several minutes until he collapsed, exhausted.

I soothed him as Billy checked out the stuff on the towel. He counted twenty-two small white pills. He looked up, his eyes bright. “Pretty sure there’s nothing left in his tummy. He’ll be fine.”

I hugged Jack hard. “Thank you.”

“Too bad I can’t get school credit for this,” Billy said with a pleased smile. He kissed the top of Jack’s head, then pecked my lips. “Going back to bed.”

As if this adventure hadn’t traumatized him at all, Billy crawled back into bed and was asleep in minutes.

But something Father used to say came into my head. Bad things always come in threes.

I certainly hoped not. If number one was nearly poisoning my dog, I really didn’t want to know what numbers two