Without his amnesia-inducing lips on mine, my irritation is back. I stand, cutting him off. “Forget it. It was an accident. A mistake, whatever. But this—” I circle my hand around to indicate the abduction of my pets. “This was irresponsible and unforgivable. Taking Skip and Lou is one thing. But Tinky gets car sick.”
He shoves a hand through his hair, looking baffled and confused. “Yeah, I noticed when he puked all over my car.”
I head down the hall to the living room, determined to get out of here, but catch a glimpse of Iago’s cage—which is now in the corner of Max’s living room. I don’t even want to imagine how it got there, because it’s huge and heavy. So I just gesture toward it. “And Iago doesn’t like change.”
At the sound of his name, Iago gives a squawk and plucks out a feather, muttering, “Hell in a handbasket.”
“And—”
Before I can even come up with anything to say after the “and” there’s another “Baaaaa” from the other room, followed by the click-clack of hooves on tile flooring.
A tiny goat trots out from the kitchen, a piece of teal fabric dangling from its mouth. The goat stops a few feet from us, and gives its head a shake. “Baaaa.”
The fabric—which this goat clearly ripped from Max’s shirt at some point before I arrived—must be stuck between its teeth or something, because every time it opens its mouth to baaa and shake its head, the fabric just hangs there.
Skip trots over to the goat and starts nipping at the goat’s heels to herd it back into the kitchen. The goat—clearly having none of this nonsense—hops up onto the coffee table. The red puzzle Max was working on the last time I was here is now complete. At least until the goat lands on it. And starts eating some of the pieces. Just then, Tinky hops out from behind the sofa like he’s coming to greet me, but he gets distracted by a tasty-looking lamp cord and pauses to gnaw on it.
Finally, even I can’t take the chaos. “What the hell is happening? Why is there a goat here? I don’t have a goat. And you don’t have a goat. So whose goat is that? And why did you kidnap my pets when there was a goat here?”
“This is Bubble. Short for Beelzebub. She’s a miniature silky goat.”
Skip, clearly frustrated that Bubble is beyond herding range, barks at the goat.
Bubble jumps, her legs going stiff as she topples over.
“She’s a little dramatic,” Max says.
A moment later, she stumbles to her feet and takes a defiant bite of puzzle.
From his corner, Iago mutters, “Hell in a handbasket.”
“I don’t think I thought this through.” Max shoves his hand through his hair again, and then grunts as Lou leans into his leg.
“I don’t understand what’s happening.”
It’s the only thing I can say. Because—seriously!—what the hell is going on?
Max, taking a big step to avoid the rabbit poop, crosses to the table and scoops the goat in his arms, as he gestures to the sofa. “Maybe you should sit.”
I follow him to the sofa. What else can I do? I can’t just take my animals and leave. I have no idea how to get them home. When I agreed to foster Iago, it took three college students to move his cage into my living room. Even if I could get Tinky and the dogs to the car, I’d have to leave Iago here. And I’m not doing that.
Besides, I still have no idea why Max took my pets. And then kissed me. And then fucked me, apparently by mistake? And now he has a pet demon goat.
“What is going on?” I ask.
“You said you couldn’t marry me.”
“Right.”
“Because your life is messy.”
“Right.”
And at the time, I’d meant it. At the time, I’d genuinely thought that was why I shouldn’t—or couldn’t—marry him. Now, I’m not so sure.
Was that really it? Or was I just protecting my heart, because he asked me out of pity? Because I’m afraid he can’t ever love me?
And I’m terrified of getting hurt again. Because this shit that’s happening right now? Where he made love to me like I was the most precious thing in the world and then said it was an accident? I can’t take much more of this.
