Nearlyweds by Beth Kendrick Read Free Book Online

argue, you pull rank, and I’m sick of it.”
    “I never said anything about—”
    “Yes, okay, we all know you’re the exalted physician who married the lowly pharmacologist! But that doesn’t mean you get to call all the shots!”
    “My being a physician has nothing to do with any of this.”
    “Then why do you always get the final say?”
    I exhaled sharply. “David, there are certain issues where a spouse deserves veto power.”
    “And let me guess— you get to decide what those issues are.”
    Something inside me snapped. “That’s right, David. I do. I gave up my apartment in Boston and all my friends and moved all the way out here so your poor, bereft mother wouldn’t have to be alone. I gave up a great job opportunity at a prestigious teaching hospital to hand out cough syrup and antibiotics.”
    His eyes had lost all trace of loving enthusiasm. “She’s my mom and she helped pay for this house. What am I supposed to do?”
    “I told you accepting that money from her was a mistake. I told you! Well, I’m only going to say this once: If she moves in, I move out.”
    He stared at me but didn’t say anything.
    “David?” I prompted.
    Still no response.
    I grabbed my purse off the kitchen table and headed for the garage.
    “Erin, don’t.”
    I whirled around, frightened by the rage breaking over me. “I mean it. It’s me or Renée. Who’s it going to be?”
    He studied the linoleum. “It’s not that simple.”
    I reached for the doorknob.
    “Please don’t.”
    I turned the dead bolt and pushed the door open.
    When he looked up, his eyes were bleak and betrayed. “You promised to marry me all over again.”
    “Yeah, well, maybe once was enough.”

8
STELLA
    S weetie, did we get any important mail recently?” I banged the front door shut behind me, which seemed to spook the dog, so I leaned down and rubbed his ears to reassure him.
    Mark rushed into the foyer, looking both annoyed and relieved. “Are you ready to stop behaving like—” He broke off when he saw the dog. “What is that?”
    I tilted my head, trying to look nonchalant. “A dog.”
    He folded his arms over his green raglan sweater. “I see. And whose dog is it, exactly?”
    “He’s ours.” I tugged on the leash. The dog lumbered forward. “I bailed him out of the county shelter.”
    “You’re kidding, right? Whose dog is it, really?”
    I brushed past him into the kitchen. “Look at him, Mark. Smell him. Do you really think anyone we know would let their dog run around all matted and filthy like this?”
    He glanced at the dog, who had planted himself next to the marble-topped island and was scratching away at his neck with his back foot. “Stop yanking my chain and tell me what the hell’s going on.”
    “I’m not yanking your chain, darling.” I started humming as I rummaged through the cherry cabinets for hot chocolate mix and a mug. “This is our new dog. Isn’t he a cutie? I’m going to make cocoa—want some?”
    “Stella. What have you done?”
    I filled the kettle with water and placed it on the burner. “I took him over to that little pet supply shop on Fifth Street, and the owner helped me pick out food and dishes and toys and that sporty new collar. Her name’s Casey—Casey Keating, I think. Do you know her?”
    His face went ashen. “That crazy animal-rights girl who’s always passing out leaflets on the evils of animal testing in front of the hospital?”
    “I don’t know. I guess. Anyway, she knew who you were. And of course she’d heard all about me. I’m the Paris Hilton of the Berkshires, thanks to Taylor and Marissa.” I found the bag of mini-marshmallows and crammed a few into my mouth. “All the dog stuff’s in the trunk, so when you get a chance, could you bring it in? Oh, and could you put the convertible top back up, too? I had to take it down to fit him in the passenger seat. I thought we were going to die of frostbite on the ride home. What do you think we should name