Third Wheel
I tease.
Nya yawns a big, exhausted puppy yawn, stretches her tiny four-pound body out, then lays her head on Jackson’s chest.
“Shh,” Jackson warns. “It’s our nap time.” I place the TV remote in Jackson’s hand, grab my iPad and curl up in the chair to read.
Thirty minutes pass before I hear the garage door signal Kennedy’s arrival. I rise, quietly slip into the garage, and let Kennedy know that Jackson and the puppy are sleeping on the sofa. I show her several pictures I snapped with my phone of the two napping.