She settled on a simple navy blue t-shirt dress and a pair of sandals. And a purse that was big enough for her to ram not only a book but her tablet.
Liam looked at me, daring me to give him shit. But I didn’t have time for an argument with him about it.
“If that’s how you want to present yourself, then that’s fine,” I said with a shrug.
He wanted to get a rise out of me.
And he was pissed that I turned it back on him.
With a tight jaw, he turned back into his room.
He came back out not two minutes later with a black button-up shirt on over his t-shirt.
It wasn’t much, but it was a slight improvement.
With that, we headed out.
Liam charged ahead of us, already comfortable with the crowds, with the people, with the unique, hectic atmosphere of the city. He didn’t even flinch when two guys started yelling and shoving at each other just in front of the turnstiles.
Charlotte, still adjusting to public transit and so many strange faces all at once, stayed glued to my side as we waited for the train.
Then I watched as Liam went in ahead of us and glared at one guy until he got up from his seat.
“Char, sit,” he called, waving to the seat, then standing guard right in front of her, his arm raised to grab the bar.
Huh.
Maybe the kid did have some Costa in him after all.
It was a short ride to Brio’s place, where we were greeted by no fewer than seven dogs of all different sizes and temperaments.
I thought everyone had been exaggerating about Brio’s involvement with a local shelter. But it seemed like they were underselling it.
“Kids love dogs,” Brio said, watching Charlotte try to pet all of the dogs equally so no one felt left out. A bleeding heart—that was my Charlotte. I could only pray the city let her keep that.
Even grumpy Liam softened at a droopy-eared, white-faced, tricolor Basset Hound who climbed up on the couch next to him, then flopped back into his chest.
“I know what you’re doing,” I said, shaking my head at Brio. “We’re not ready for a dog.”
“They’re good for mental health, that’s all I’m saying.”
“If that was true, wouldn’t you be a lot more fucking sane?” I shot back.
Brio’s smile was warm as he passed me a whiskey.
The front door slammed, and all the dogs stiffened, then ran toward the front hall just as Alara’s voice rang through the house.
“I know your game, Brio,” she called. “And I’m not taking another dog home, even if Tuna does like it. Which he won’t. Because he’s a moody little ass—oh,” she broke off, spotting Charlotte first, then Liam, and finally me. “An… ass-tronomically happy only child,” she finished.
“Nice try,” I said, shooting a smile in her direction. “They can handle the word ‘asshole,’ if that was what you were going for.”
“He is. An asshole. I would say in a lovable way, but he… hey!” I followed her gaze to watch her little rat of a dog hop up on the couch next to Liam and proceed to scratch his chest for attention. “You little traitor, you. You’ve never begged for my attention. And I’m the keeper of the treats. Shit.” She winced as all the dogs went batshit at the ’T’ word.
“Okay. Treats in the kitchen,” Brio called, likely just to gain control over the chaos.
All the dogs fell in line.
Except Tuna.
