“Cheeky,” she said.

As soon as Will arrived, they all went in together. Flick and Addie were nearly beside themselves as Caroline filled out an adoption form on a clipboard.

“Be still,” she said to Flick. “I need to finish this before we can visit the dogs.”

“When we adopt our dog, does that mean we get to keep him forever?” asked Addie.

“Sure,” said Caroline. “Forever and ever. That’s why we need to find just the right match.”

“We’re not gonna be the foster family?” Addie asked.

“No, if we find the right dog, we’ll be its forever family.” Caroline felt Will watching her. She focused on filling in all the blanks.

“Rutger Peters said we’re foster kids and you could give us back anytime,” Flick said.

Caroline stopped writing. She glanced at Will, then back at Flick. “That’s not so. I’m your guardian. That’s the same as a parent. I’m going to keep you with me, safe and sound, forever.”

Will watched her thoughtfully. She could tell his prescription was already kicking in, easing the swollen wasp stings, and he looked ridiculously sweet.

“But it’s not the same as adopting,” Flick stated.

The statement was like a punch to the gut. Here they were getting ready to adopt a dog, and yet her kids were still foster children. “It’s . . . Okay, it’s the same,” she said, fumbling a bit. “Trust me, there will be no givebacks. That’s a promise. Do you trust me?”

“Are we the right kids for you?” Addie asked.

“You’re the perfect kids for me,” Caroline said. “What a silly question.”

Flick said, “Can we go see the dogs now?”

She caught Will’s eye over the kids’ heads. “Welcome to my world,” she muttered.

“I like your world just fine. Come on. I want to see the dogs, too.”

The inner sanctum of the shelter was a gauntlet of wagging tails, pleading eyes, and “look at me” yips and yaps. There were scruffy coats and smooth, big dogs and small ones, gray-muzzled seniors and agitated pups.

A volunteer introduced them to a few dogs, and they narrowed the choices to a friendly chocolate lab mix with one blind eye and a small black-and-white dog that was cautious and shy, bowing low with her tail quivering. “She was abused,” the volunteer told Caroline and Will. “But she’s come a long way, thanks to 4-H students who have been working with her every day. We think she’d be a wonderful pet for your family, Mr. and Mrs.—”

“Oh,” Caroline said, startled. “We’re not a fam—I mean, Will’s just a friend who came along . . .” She fumbled with her words, feeling a flush rise to her cheeks.

Will touched her arm. “How about we take both dogs out to the play yard with the kids and see how they get along?”

A few minutes later, Flick and Addie were in heaven. They petted the dogs and tossed balls and toys for them, the kids wriggling and wagging every bit as excitedly as the dogs. Caroline stood watching with Will, and her heart swelled with affection.

“You’re having a moment.” Will touched her shoulder.

She let herself lean into him, just for a second. “I love seeing them like this.”

“I bet it feels great. What’s better than making a child happy?”

“That’s the question that keeps me awake at night. How can I make them happy? How can I keep them that way? I’m so scared of screwing this up.”

“It’s called being human, Caroline. Parenting’s not an exact science. You’re good with them, and they’re crazy about you. Sure, you’ll make mistakes. You’ll also get it right a lot of the time.” He gestured at the happy tangle of kids and dogs in the yard. “Like now.”

“Thanks. God, I hope you’re right.” She paused, sent him a quick glance. “I’ve been thinking of adopting them. Making it legal and official. Am I nuts?”

He bumped against her, a teasing nudge. “Yeah, I’ve always liked that about you.”

“Seriously, am I?”

“No, you’re awesome. You took in these kids and made them your own and gave them a life after the worst possible thing happened to them. And that makes you awesome, not nuts.”

She didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath until it came out as a sigh of relief. “You have no idea how much I needed to hear that. These kids . . . God. They’re the best, hardest thing I’ve ever done. I wake up every day, scared I’m going to screw up, but somehow we seem to be making it.”

They stood together in silence. Kids and dogs at play were the embodiment of pure joy. Sure, they got rashes and fainted at the doctor. They made messes and noise all day, every day, it seemed. But the rewards of seeing them grow were beyond anything she’d ever imagined.

“So how are you doing?” Caroline eyed Will. “And you know what I’m asking.”

“I’m good. Getting used to my new reality.”

“I wish I knew how I could be a better friend.”

“We’ve always been friends,” he said quietly.

Usually after a breakup, the couple’s friends went their separate ways, staying loyal to one or the other of the riven pair. Caroline felt torn between both of them. Sierra had relocated to the city. She was constantly on the move in her new job. Caroline had called her many times. Sent text messages and emails. The responses were brief, almost dismissive. Then she sent a note that summed it up: I’m reinventing my life and I’m doing great. For the time being, it’s easier for me if I don’t bring along anything from the past. Hope you understand.

Caroline stopped calling her.

Will was a different story. She saw him often, since the rainwear workshop was on his property. A couple of times, she’d been working when a woman came to see him. A date. He was dating. He was back on the market. And that of course made her think about the way things had been when they were young.

She remembered a time when she’d had feelings so powerful she thought she would explode, but she had kept them hidden.

Was she doing that now?

“I can listen,” she stated.

He held a long silence. “Hell, don’t I know it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Sierra ended a pregnancy. She said she told you.”

Caroline looked away, seared by a sense of guilt. “It’s none of my business. I wish she hadn’t said anything.”

“She told you before she told me.”

“She knew it would hurt you.”

“It’s a huge thing to keep from your spouse,” he said.

“I’m sorry. I really don’t know what to say.”

“Most people don’t. Hell, half the time, I don’t.”

There were so many other things Caroline wanted to talk to him about. She hesitated, though, uncertain about who they were to each other after all that had happened. Their friendship was different in ways she couldn’t quite get her head around. She wished . . .

“Have you made a decision?” The shelter manager came out and watched the kids and dogs playing together. The brown one fetched a stick tirelessly. The black-and-white one nestled sweetly in Flick’s lap.