Page 52 of The Mr. Right Checklist

“Shit.” Fletch heads for Molly, and I frantically start picking up the pieces of fabric.

“It’s not her fault. She’s just mad that I took you away from her.” I turn around, and my heart stutters.

He’s crouched next to Molly with his arm around her, speaking quietly. “I’m sorry, Mol. I shouldn’t have locked you out of the room, but you know better than to eat clothes.” His gaze moves to me, and his voice grows thick with concern. “I’ve got to take her to the emergency vet before it gets into her intestines.”

“I’ll go with you.” I head for the stairs, and he stays where he is.

“Would you mind getting me a shirt so she doesn’t run up there? They’re in the second drawer in my dresser, and grab my socks and sneakers, please.”

“Okay.” I take the steps two at a time, hoping Molly is okay.

Half an hour later we’re waiting in the emergency veterinary clinic while they x-ray Molly. Fletch finally stops pacing and sits beside me, worrying with his hands, his leg bouncing nervously. I put my hand on his leg. He covers it with his own, interlacing our fingers and holding tight.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve brought my things upstairs.”

“It’s not the first time she’s eaten something she shouldn’t, but usually it’s socks.” He bumps my shoulder. “Or bows.”

I wince. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. I know better than to leave clothing where she can get to it, and you were right. She was jealous. My room is her room, too. She sleeps with me every night, and I never shut her out.”

“Ever? Not even . . .” I can’t bring myself to finish the sentence and ask about the other women he’s casually dated. It’s none of my business.

He shakes his head. “I don’t bring women back to my place. It’s not fair to Molly.”

That might be one of the most telling things I’ve learned about him yet. “Then why did you bring me inside? I would’ve understood if you said you wanted to go to my place or if you left the bedroom door open.”

He leans closer, speaking gruff and low. “Because I couldn’t have waited another second to get my hands on you, and I love my dog, but I didn’t want her anywhere near your naked body.”

The vehemence in his voice makes me feel warm and squishy inside. I tuck that away along with the other special things about Fletch I’ve learned, like how good he made me feel, and how deeply he loves Molly.

“Next time we’ll go to your place.”

I love that he wants a next time, but I keep that to myself. “We can’t do that to Molly. She spends all day without you, and you’re her person. She’ll miss you too much. What if we give her some of her favorite treats or a special antler to chew on and leave the bedroom door open? Do you think that will help?”

He shakes his head. “You’re really something, sunshine. Most people would say she’s a dog. Put her outside.” He lifts our joined hands and presses a kiss to the back of mine. “We’ll figure it out.”

“I feel bad for her. I hope she’s okay.”

“She will be, one way or another. I’m glad you’re here. Thanks for sticking around.”

“Do you really think I’d let you go through this by yourself or leave without knowing if Molly was okay? What kind of friend would that make me?”

He kisses my temple, and I lean against his side, tossing up more silent prayers for Molly.

A while later, Dr. Wilkinson, the veterinarian, comes into the waiting area with Molly trotting beside him. We push to our feet, and Fletch tightens his hold on my hand.

“Molly did great,” Dr. Wilkinson assures us. “She swallowed one fairly good-size piece of fabric, but it was still in her stomach. We induced vomiting, and she threw it right up.”

“Thank goodness,” I say.

“There’s nothing in her intestines?” Fletch asks.

“No. She should be good to go.” He pets Molly. “Her stomach will be a little irritated, so take her food and water away overnight. If she seems fine in the morning, you can give her small amounts of water and some bland food, and take your cues from her. She shouldn’t have any issues, but if you notice anything, give us a call.”

“Thank you.” Fletch shakes his hand and takes Molly’s leash.

As Dr. Wilkinson walks away, we love up Molly. “You gave us quite a scare, Mol. How about we don’t do that again?” Fletch drops a kiss on her forehead.