I shake my head. “I appreciate the thought, but he’s a big dog. And he smells like a horse’s asshole. Go home and spare yourself. This is not what you signed up for.”
“Jesse, I’ve had two kids and one divorce. If that’s taught me anything, it’s that shit gets real sometimes, and it’s nice to have someone good by your side when it does.” She points to my dog, who is looking between us with desperation. “And that is some real shit.”
I stare back at her in disbelief. I can’t believe there was ever a time when I thought she was an unrelatable celebrity.
“You sure?” I ask. “This is gonna be a whole thing.”
She nods with such confidence that I truly believe her. “I’m here for it.”
“All right,” I say, resigned. “Let’s get inside and I’ll put on a pot of coffee. It’s going to be a long night.”
While the coffee brews, I head to the laundry room to grab the hydrogen peroxide and a bucket. When I come back to the kitchen to grab the baking soda, Marissa is kneeling on the ground beside Diesel, petting him gently as he laps frantically from his water bottle.
“It’s okay,” she’s telling him as she strokes a hand through his fur. “I know you’re scared but we’re going to take good care of you.”
My heart squeezes in my chest. She’s always a mother, even when she’s caring for my dog.
I pour us each a cup of coffee and hand one to her. She smiles as she takes a grateful sip.
“You ready?” she asks, and it feels like a loaded question. Am I ready to give this filthy animal a bath? No. Am I ready to do it with her? Do anything with her? Follow her anywhere? Absolutely.
Supplies in hand, I lead Diesel into the bathroom. I mix up the solution, and with Marissa’s help, we scrub it into his fur. It’s going better than expected; he’s clearly grateful that we’re doing something to relieve his discomfort. But as soon as I turn on the faucet and begin filling the tub with water, he lets out a yelp and scampers out of the room, still covered in de-skunk solution. I manage to catch him before he gets too far down the hallway and grab hold of his collar. He’s full-on wailing by the time I get him into the tub, splashing frantically as he tries to escape. Marissa is stroking a hand down his back and reassuring him that he’s going to be all right, but he ignores her as he splashes around, soaking us both. He’s a big dog, and even with both of our grips on him, he almost manages to break free, nearly knocking Marissa over.
I grit my teeth, holding firm as he howls in despair. “Hang in there, buddy,” I say as I scrub the top of his head. “You’re going to need at least two cycles of this, so you have to relax.” Predictably, the words have no effect on him.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Marissa pull her wet shirt over her head.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her for at least the third time tonight. “He really doesn’t do well in the bath. Or in any situation that involves him getting wet.”
“I get it,” she says. She unbuttons her jean shorts and the sight of it is so distracting that I nearly lose my grip on Diesel. I knew she’d need to borrow some dry clothes, but I figured she would wait until the bath was over.
Before I realize what’s happening, she’s stripped down to her underwear and is climbing into the tub.
“What are you doing? He’s going to get his skunk smell all over you.”
She shrugs. “Pretty sure I already smell like the sewer. I’ll shower later. But right now, he’s scared.”
She sits down and wraps her arms around my dog. To my surprise, it seems to settle him. He’s still whimpering but has quit trying to jump out of the tub. She lifts one hand to stroke his ears, and while he’s distracted, I set to work on his paws.
“Levi went through a phase where he was afraid of the bath,” she tells me. “He was three and he accidentally kicked the drain open while he was playing. Got it into his head that he was going to go down the drain with the water. And showers were a nonstarter. He still won’t take those. So, I started getting in the bath with him. Every night, I sat on top of the drain, so there was no possibility it could suck him down. My nanny thought I was insane, but you know what? It worked. Sometimes it’s not enough to tell people they’ll be okay. Sometimes you need to be right there beside them, so they know you mean it. That you won’t let anything bad happen to them.”
Mouth agape, I stare at the woman who is taking a bath with my big, smelly dog, and it strikes me how badly I want more of this. I want her. I want to do life withher. Even the gross, messy parts. I know that summer’s coming to an end. But my feelings for her are real and they are not going anywhere.
Together, we manage to give Diesel another scrub and rinse and then towel him off before he flees the bathroom again to roll around on the living room carpet. After doing a quick cleanup in the bathroom, I lead Marissa down the hall.
I’m sure we both smell putrid, but at this point, I’ve become desensitized to it. Still, we are in desperate need of a shower. I lead her into my bathroom and twist on the faucet, letting the water warm. She’s already stripped down to her bra and underwear, so I pull my own shirt over my head and step out of the shorts. I’m going to haveto leave them outside for a few days to let them air out but right now, it’s the last thing on my mind.
The bathroom fills with steam as I move closer to her, until I’m a breath away from her face. Our eyes latch as I hook my thumb under the strap of her bra, sliding it down her shoulder. She stares up at me, lips parting, as her breath goes ragged. I hold her gaze for a long beat before pressing a kiss onto her bare shoulder.
“Thank you,” I whisper. I don’t specify what I’m thankful for, because it’s too much to put into words. For being kind to my dog. For coming into my life and turning it upside down in ways I could never have imagined.
Taking her by the hand, I lead her into the shower. I watch as she steps under the showerhead, her eyes falling shut as the water streams over her face. I slide in behind her. Squeezing some shampoo into my palm, I gently massage it into her scalp. She lets out a little moan of pleasure and my dick twitches in response. But as I stroke my fingers through her hair, I realize this moment is not about sex. Not for me. I just want to treat her with the same tender care she showed to Diesel. A woman with a heart that big deserves to be loved back.
When the shower is over, I wrap her in my nicest towel, then scoop her up and carry her into my bedroom. Marissa slips into a pair of my boxers and an undershirt, then crawls into bed. She’s already sleepy by the time I crawl in alongside her. When she wraps her arms around me, nuzzling her face into my neck, I forget to breathe.Mine, I think to myself.
Marissa is asleep within minutes, but I’m awake for another hour, staring into the darkness. I’ve spent the past few weeks wondering if there was any world in which this could work, if our relationship could outlast the summer. But now the question is no longerifwe can make this work past the summer. It’s how. I might not have all the answers right now, but there’s one thing I know for certain: I can no longer see a future for myself without her in it.
30MARISSA
