She wiped her hands on the dishtowel with a grin before heading out of the kitchen toward the foyer. As usual, she had to navigate a virtual minefield of things left out despite having just picked up the debris before going into the kitchen to check on dinner. The dog was barking excitedly. Almost two years old, little Kirby had yet to realize that being a corgi meant he wasn’t designed for jumping much higher than Grant’s knee, but that didn’t mean he didn’t try. Every day. As expected, it was the usual mayhem she found. Grant trying with one hand to get the door closed and locked again, his briefcase on the floor, already spilled on its side while Kirby jumped around like a corgi-shaped spring. “Kirby, that’s enough now.” “Hey.” Grant smiled, finally getting the lock flipped. He managed a step closer to her, despite the giggles and squeals and barks on his other side, already reaching to pull her close for a kiss. Julia gave up trying to be stern. This had been their evening ritual for a year now and it was one she knew he loved as much as she did.
