“Hey, Miss Willow,” Calypso greets her and starts assessing the day’s inventory.
Not waiting for her to check out, Miss Willow hands me a cotton tote bag and I hold it open for Calypso. These routines aren’t something I ever thought I would want—I started to resent them with my ex—but they’re not suffocating with her. It adds excitement to my weeks.
“Are you kids staying for the drone show tonight?” Miss Willow asks in excitement. “All the girls are bringing out their pups. It’s so exciting.”
There was a town council meeting after the Fourth of July and someone brought up the hazards of fireworks. I didn’t attend the meeting but I was with the cause.
Not only is the noise harmful for animals and people with PTSD, but fireworks are so fucking bad for the environment. Between the temporary (but impactful) air pollution, water contamination, and the annual wildfires, there are more than enough reasons for any person to be firmly anti-fireworks.
Chuckling, I say, “Maybe I should bring my dog.”
Calypso’s head whips toward me. Maybe we’ve never talked about Rosie, my long-haired dachshund, but shelooks truly repulsed by me for the first time. She shakes it off before Miss Willow questions anything.
“You should, dear! Bring ‘em over if you decide to,” she says in excitement.
Cutting in, Calypso quickly checks out and we turn down the aisle again.
“You have a dog?” she asks, leaning back repulsed by the possibility. “You should have mentioned that.”
I look down at her with a quirked brow. “Why?”
“Liam,” she dramatically sighs out and shakes her head. “I would never date a man who has a pet.”
“Unfortunately for you, honey,” I say smoothly and wrap an arm around her shoulders. She holds my waist, leaning into me. “We’re on track to fall in love, and I’ll drive us out into the sunset. In your car, of course.”
Her head falls back and she laughs. Not her normal, teasing snicker; one of her rare belly laughs. It’s cute as fuck.
“You’re really just in this for the car.” She pinches my side.
I shake my head and whisper in her ear, “I’ll take whatever you’ll give me—happy to even beg for it.”
She looks up at me coyly, a flirtatious retort on the tip of her tongue when someone runs into her shoulder.Hard.
There’s way too much force for it to be an accident, even in these crowds.
“Fuck,” she mutters and turns into my chest.
She’s okay—I know she is. There won’t even be a bruise.
It doesn’t stop me from turning around. I see red when I do.
Ruby’s gripping Stefan’s hand, looking back at us with a guilty expression. Her fiancé is pushing forward, but I grab the back of his polo before he gets further.
“Liam,” Calypso says, but she doesn’t try to hold me back.
“What the fuck?” Stefan grumbles, surprised by the altercation.
Fucking coward.
I turn him around, standing in the middle of the aisle. I’m not going to hit him—no matter how badly I want to—but he seems like the type of man who cares about his image. Mine already kind of sucks around here, and I’d run it into the ground again for Calypso’s sake.
“Don’t touch her,” I say. My fist is bunched into the front of his polo now. “Everagain.”
He scoffs. “I can do whatever I want when it comes tomyex-wife.”
“She’s not a piece of property you sold and can barter back, you fucking prick,” I spit out.
He rolls his eyes but doesn’t deny my words. Ruby is watching the entire interaction with an expression that falls by the second. She’s a sad, lost puppy who wandered into the worst yard possible.
