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He never gets mad at Valentine, and neither do I, usually. Unless he’s walking mud through the house.
“I’ll get him cleaned up,” Conor says apologetically, making me feel like a tyrant.
“We both will,” I offer, and Valentine smiles when he’s picked up, his daddy leading the way while he holds him in his arms, straight to the bath.
“It’s weird,” Is all I can manage, sitting on the toilet lid while Conor dotes over Valentine, washing his paws clean again before we both dry him off.
“I know, honey. He never used to roam, I swear. Since that one day he got out, it’s like he’s had ants in his pants.” Conor observes.
“Has he been-?” I start to ask, Conor putting his hands over Valentine’s ears.
“No! He hasn’t,” he adds with a whisper.
“And he’s not gonna be either. All the Fox men of this house, wolf-dogs included are strong and virile. He’ll make a great dad one day,” Conor exclaims, making Valentine bark with agreement.
I open my mouth to speak but close it again.
Time and place, Rachel. Time and place.
“You okay, sweetie?” Conor asks once we’re done drying Valentine off. He rushes for his mat, rolling on it and anything else he can find until he’s dry enough to go outside again to repeat the whole circus act.
“I’m alright, just a little tired is all,” I tell him, really feeling it today.
Mopping a floor and helping dry a dog isn’t hard work but I’m beat.
“Maybe go lay down for a bit?” Conor suggests, holding his hands up in surrender straight away. “Alone if you want. I can leave you undisturbed for an hour or two. Maybe,” he grins, pecking my lips and asking me if I’m alright again until I shoo him away, back to his work.
I’ll tell him after my nap.
But my nap’s cut a little short. No problems falling asleep, feeling fatter and lazier than ever come second nature since moving in with Conor.
My real problem? The bigger and lazier I get, the more he lusts after me. It’s like all he wants me to do is eat, sleep and make love.
I’ve never felt bigger, but Conor just keeps telling me there’s more of me to love, and his own abilities in that department certainly haven’t waned, so I know he’s telling the truth.
But it’s not that what’s woken me up. It’s that nausea again, and I rush to the bathroom, retching up nothing but feeling worse than when I laid down.
“Uh, honey?” I hear Conor calling me from downstairs.
“Honey?” he calls out louder, making me rush to get myself cleaned up, brushing my teeth and straightening my hair before I head down to him.
I grip the banister all the way down, feeling lightheaded.
Maybe I had some bad food, but the sushi last night didn’t give Conor any trouble.
I’m not sure what could make Conor call me down so urgently, he usually always lets me sleep however late and as much as I want.
Through the glass doors to the kitchen, I get an instant answer.
I rub my eyes, sure I’m hallucinating.
Valentine’s been out again by the looks, but he’s brought back something.
Some things, I should say.
I feel my jaw drop, and go into the kitchen, hooking my arm around Conor’s waist as he counts them off, one by one as Valentine stands guard by the open back door.
“…Five… and six,” Conor says, finishing the count, but we both look startled once we see number seven.
The mommy of all those puppies. Hardly a wolf-dog herself, more of a mixture of breeds.
Six little look-alike wolfish puppies though, and all looking just like their proud daddy, Valentine.
I do feel faint, and I try to tell Conor as much before the room goes sideways.
He catches me out of reflex, and Valentine rushes over too, they both help me to the couch by the window.
I turn my head, watching the puppies settling down to feed from their momma as she makes herself at home on Valentine’s mat. Valentine licking my face, full of concern before I see Conor’s face hovering over me.
“What is it, baby? Is it the shock of so many animals? We don’t have to keep them all,” he says and I smile when I hear Valentine growl from behind his master.
“Yeah, we do,” I smile faintly, gripping Conor’s hand and pat it gently with mine.
“I just got up to fast, I’ll be alright. Go make sure those puppies are alright, will ya,” I urge him as I struggle to sit myself up, leaning on an elbow.
Conor gets me some water and leaving the pups to their own devices, he props my head up on his lap, stroking my hair, making me feel better straight away.
“We can’t have six, seven. Eight dogs though, Rachel. We just can’t!” he exclaims again, making me laugh.
“Why not?” I ask, look at how proud Valentine is. “You did say the men of the Fox house were virile and strong, didn’t you?” I tease him, laughing when I see him blush.
