“A puppy?” The only question you could think and say when you saw him arrive home with a... little puppy in his arms. It's not that you didn't like dogs or anything, you thought they were cute, you just didn't think your husband would actually adopt one when you just casually mentioned that you wanted to have one.

He was smiling hugely, holding that golden puppy as if it were one of his sons—it certainly was like one. “You said you wanted one. I listened to you and... Surprise. I guess.” Frank was confused if this had gone well or if you were going to explode at any moment. But, damn, it was a lovely puppy, he was happy with it.

Without saying anything else, he sat down next to you on the couch, the small, quiet puppy on his lap, although it seemed to want to sniff everything—including you. “Come on, sweetheart... The kids will love having a pet,” he grumbled, almost pouting. “And we can consider this puppy our third kid. Though if you wanna make another one... I won't complain.”

The smartass comment made you slap his shoulder, which made him chuckle softly and pet the dog's furry head. “Oh, shut up, would you?” Third child? Maybe, but now? No way, it was already quite something to have two energetic little boys running around the house all day long as if their energy would never run out.

“You're the boss.” He said it and you loved the words. You probably would've liked to be informed about the adoption of a puppy before, but you understood that his intention was good. He wanted to make it a surprise, he did this all the time, not as shockingly, but still.

He loved to surprise you in any way he could, since the beginning of your relationship years ago. Necklaces, flowers, letters that he wrote doing his best not to use the doctor's handwriting he had—that you only started to be able to read after a long while.

“And... By the way,” Frank leaned against you, lifting the puppy in his hands, looking at you with those huge eyes that only a puppy could have. “We have two boys, so I thought this little pup should be a girl, you know...? You should choose her name.”

Maybe, he was saying this to comfort you after the two pregnancies in which you agreed on one thing: boy? He'd choose the name, girl? You'd choose. Which—in a nutshell—meant he had chosen the name twice in a row, now it was your turn.