"Do you think it will ever stop snowing?" Jack said, peering out our kitchen window. His breath steamed over the glass, adding to the wintery effect.

I slid my arm around Jack's muscled waist and leaned over to look out the window with him. "I'm just glad it finally looks like the holidays. I want our first Christmas in this house together to be perfect."

Even though Jack had been here for months, I wasn't over the novelty of living with him. Before he walked into my examining room with a puppy, I thought I'd never know real love.

But here he was. In my kitchen. In our kitchen. In living color. Sharing the view in the window. Sharing my bed. Sharing my life.

This was going to be our first Christmas together in a very long time.

"We're still on schedule with the checklist, right?" Jack wanted to know. He turned and furrowed his brow, thinking.

I laughed, a happy bubble rising in my chest. As if he didn't know that we were on schedule. Jack always stayed on top of everything. Even something as

light-hearted as Christmas organization did not escape Jack's military efficiency.

Just then a familiar presence trotted up behind us, nudged Jack's leg, and dropped a ball on my foot.

"Hey there Jellybean," I laughed, reaching down to pet the smiling golden retriever's silky head. "I think you meant to drop that on Jack."

"He misses his girls," Jack said. "He's getting a head start on his end-of-week stir craziness."

"Do you miss the girls?" I asked Jellybean, running my hand back around behind his ear and scratching him where I knew he liked it. Jellybean looked into my eyes with an earnest brown gaze and thumped his tail.

"I see animals all day, and yet I can't resist you," I said. "Why is that?"

Jellybean leaned down, picked the ball back up in his mouth, and wagged his tail. I'd seen him carry two balls at a time. Sometimes the girls got him to carry three at once. Silly dog. He loved carrying things around in his mouth. If we didn't provide him with things, he would have just found random things in the house to gently carry around and move back and forth.

Jellybean loved snuggling up with our black cat Janet, especially now that it was colder. If Janet wasn't snoozing with Jellybean, she was usually out of sight, especially if someone was over at our house, or there was commotion going on. Which, with two twin girls, was most of the time. Every black cat I'd ever had was shy like that, which just added to their allure and mystery in my opinion.

Thank goodness Jellybean was gentle. Retrievers were bred to retrieve game birds shot by hunters. Their mouths are so careful they won't break a feather. These are the dogs that will adopt kittens or carry baby birds to safety.

Obviously Jellybean's a terrible guard dog. But we didn't need one. We had Jack.

So, Jellybean could definitely handle a ball. Or three. Or one of the dozens of stuffed animals he keeps in the basket by his bed. You should see him sit by the dryer waiting for them to come out after a wash cycle. If you opened the door for him, he would pull them out one at a time.

Then he'd carry them to his bed or his toy basket. If only the girls were so dedicated to putting their things away.

Jellybean dropped the ball on my foot again and then sat back expectantly.

"I thought fetch was a game that the human initiated and the dog obeyed, not the other way around," I grumbled good-naturedly.

Jack laughed, watching Jellybean thump his tail and look into my eyes, waiting for me to make the next move. "He wants to play. I mean, like you've said, he's still got a lot of puppy in him."

I leaned over and picked up the ball before Jellybean could beat me to it. "Oh all right," I said, as if I was so put out. Really, I loved these moments with this dog.

Jellybean jumped to his feet, barked, and wagged his tail wildly. His voice was a funny middle range between squeaky puppy and grown adult dog.

I threw the ball down the bedroom hallway and Jellybean bounded after it.

"Now you've done it," Jack chuckled.

"One more day until the girls come from their mom's house," I said. "Then they can chase Jellybean around all he wants."

Jenny and Eve were my twin daughters from a marriage I'd attempted after Jack left. Lisa and I were good friends who shared too much wine, too much loneliness, and too much company. It sort of worked to distract me from my heartbreak, but then she got pregnant. She was one of my best friends, and we wanted to do right by the babies, so we gave marriage a go.

It didn't take long for both of us to decide we were better as friends and child-rearing partners than as spouses.

After the divorce, everything in our relationship slowly worked its way back to the same amicable easy friendship it was before. I know too well this is not usually how these things went.

In fact, when Jack showed up in the vet clinic with Jellybean last year, it was Lisa who encouraged me to get real with my feelings and to get on with my life. I know she was just as annoyed as everyone else, if not more annoyed, that it took me so long to grow up and figure out my life. What can I say? I'm a slow learner. I couldn't have asked for a better ex-wife. So I have an asshole

father and an awesome ex-wife. You can't have everything.

Lisa worked long hours at the coffee shop she was taking over from her dad, and I worked as a vet in the next town, so we shared the parenting responsibilities as much as we could. I picked this house both for its adorableness and because it was close to the girls. The girls had bedrooms at both houses, so we tried to make it as easy as possible for them to transition back and forth.

Tonight they were with their mom. I knew I would get them tomorrow, so I was okay with that. But I'm not sure Jellybean was. He could handle the girls being gone for one night, or even two. But when the time rounded onto a third night, his stir crazy kicked in.

Jellybean loved the rambunctious and innocent energy of the girls. I think maybe kids need dogs and dogs need kids.

That being said, Jellybean was Jack's dog through and through. He went everywhere with him. From the time Jack found him in his kitchen stealing his breakfast right off the table, he'd applied his methodical and gentle structured ways to dog training and it worked. He had him behaving like a champ. Everyone loved Jellybean. He was good, friendly, and always had a big smile on his doggy face.

I couldn't blame the loyal golden retriever for loving Jack.

I understood the sentiment. Jack had a large quiet presence about him. His burly shoulders, broad chest and strong arms filled any room he inhabited.

Somehow his quiet ways made his impact even more pronounced.

When the girls weren't there for him to keep track of, Jellybean followed Jack everywhere. I would do the same, but I tried to at least be dignified about it. I sighed, admiring the rippling muscles of my boyfriend, wondering how I got to be so lucky.

"It's getting dark," Jack observed. "Let's see how the lights look in the weather." He crossed into the living room, and flipped a light switch near the front door. The windows and trees lit up in twinkling lights, turning our wintery yard into a dazzling wonderland.

"It's even more beautiful in the snow!" I gasped, following him into the living room and gazing out the multi-paned front window.

Jack grinned at me. "Aren't you glad I made sure we hung the lights while it was still warm?" His eye twinkled as he teased me.

Of course I wanted to hang Christmas lights. I just would have rather done anything else on the last warm Saturday of the year. But Jack was right, as usual. So we buckled down and got them done, and now we reaped the reward.

As I stood in the window, Jack came behind me and wrapped his enormous arms around me. I'm not a short guy, and I'm not a tiny guy. I'm like a normal-sized guy — a few inches over six feet tall with my weight somewhere between slim and muscular, depending on what Jack had us doing. Sometimes I was more cooperative than others when it came to braving the garage and working the weights with him. He, however, was always dedicated.

I snuggled back into my rugged wall of a boyfriend. He leaned down and kissed my neck and held me in his arms.

"It's just a few weeks until Christmas," he said. "You know I support whatever you decide. But are you sure about your Christmas Eve party guest list?"

I stiffened and felt my breathing quicken. I knew what he was getting at. Why Jack was so…charitable about this more than me I didn't understand. "Why would you even want them here?" I said. "They weren't exactly kind toward you either."

Jack gathered me tighter to him. The caging of his arms helped me feel safe for this conversation. This was good because I needed all the safety I could get. He squeezed me again and then leaned his cheek on the side of my head.

"My old man was an ass. No two ways about it," he said. He paused, not finished with his sentence, and I waited while he gathered his thoughts.

The snow fell down outside like perfectly spaced white fluffy feathers. It was so weird how snow made everything so quiet. Finally he continued. "But he's gone now and I know you don't want to hear this. But someday your dad will be gone too. I'm just making sure you know that if you want to invite your parents for Christmas Eve, I am down for that."

A laugh coughed out of me, like an uncontrolled reflex I couldn't stop. "Maybe I want to have a nice Christmas with the man I love and the family who loves me. I've been dealing with his bullshit for so many years, I would like, for once, to have a truly happy holiday." I breathed in as deeply as I could, and then slowly released the air, calming myself in the exercise.

Jack squeezed me tight. "That's fair. I just don't want you to not have them here on my account. I've stared down far scarier than your father." A chuckle tinted his last words, and I smiled despite myself.

Amusement bubbled up in me, and I leaned my head further over onto Jack's big warm chest. "I'm sure that's true. But what if we had a Christmas without any extended family traditions that we would rather do without? I could do without the Backhanded Compliments of Inadequacy, or the Carol of the Guilt Trip, or even the Gift of Unreasonable Expectations."

Jack laughed and snuggled me closer. "Did you know you are even funnier when you are ranting?"

"This is ranting?" I said with my most innocent voice. "I'm just making sure Santa knows that I don't want a stocking full of Life Path Based on Someone Else's Plans."

"But can we dance around the house like you told me the Swedes do?" Jack nuzzled my neck, clearly amused at my declarations aimed at no one in the room. "You made that sound like so much fun, and I would love to continue the tradition with your family."

"Yes," I said. "We can do that. As long as you make sure to tell Santa what I just said."

Jack ran his hands up and down my arms and then slid them under my shirt until he found bare skin. I shivered in response to his hot and calloused touch, and groaned as he pressed himself against me.

"Don't worry. I know what you want for Christmas," he growled in my ear.

"Mmm," I agreed. This was definitely on my Yes Please list. But I wondered if Jack knew what else I wanted.

However, even if he asked I wasn't telling.

Not yet, anyway.