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Princess sits patiently in the seat next to her, watching the world go by without making a single fuss. Not a growl, not a grumble. Not even a yelp. All she does is pant, whine in response to something Willow says, and lick her face.
We pull up into the parking lot of a big box pet store. Clara just looks at me, at the store, and sighs.
“Look, Princess! All those toys are for you!” Willow squeals excitedly.
And I’ll be damned if Princess’s tail doesn’t start wagging just as excitedly.
I step out of the car and help Willow out of her booster seat, half-expecting the dog to try to bite my hand off. But Princess just looks at me, waits for Willow to slide out with my help, and then follows right behind her.
Clara watches it all, scowling.
“C’mon, Princess.” I lead the group into the store. “Let’s get you set up for your new home.”
“Ooohhh, look at this!” Willow exclaims, running to a pile of plush dog beds. “They’re so fluffy! Princess, look!”
Princess trots over as far as her leash will allow. I’m more focused on Clara, who is eyeing the shopping with a raised eyebrow. Sliding over to her, I murmur in her ear, “Our little girl is happy and has a new friend. This is what we wanted.”
Finally, Clara relaxes with a sigh. “I know. I know. You’re right. I just… I was thinking something more like a chihuahua. Or a goldfish. Maybe a pet rock.”
“Chihuahua? We’re trying to scare away the nightmares, not give her new ones.”
That earns me a snorted laugh. “You know what I mean, asshole! She’s a sweet little girl who needs someone to play with, and I just…”
I wrap my free arm around her waist and tuck her close to my side. “She does. And look at them.”
Willow has figured out one of Princess’s learned tricks: she sets a toy bone on her nose, tells her to wait, and then… ”Go!”
Princess tosses the bone, catches it, and wags her tail.
Fighting dog, my ass.
I step away to get a cart. When I return, Willow is overloading her arms with every toy Princess gets excited over. I stoop down to catch the few that are about to fall and toss them into the cart.
“I think we’ve grabbed the whole aisle,” I tell her. “Did you pick out a bed?”
“We want a pink one.”
“A pink one it is.” I grab the cart and wink at Clara, who seems to be warming up to our new family member.
She just sighs in response.
Apparently, Princess is a nightmare-black fighting machine who prefers bright pink, glitter, and bows of various colors. Or at least, that’s what Willow is picking out for her and so far it seems like Princess is happy.
As Willow interrogates Princess about what foods she likes best, Clara leans into me and blows out a contented little breath. “I have to admit,” she says, “it’s kinda fun watching you be all soft and mushy over a dog.”
“I’ll have you know, I am a dark force of reckoning.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. But to be clear, you’re about as dark as a toasted marshmallow. And just as warm and gooey on the inside.”
She giggles when I snarl and pull her close. “If you keep talking about warm and gooey insides,” I rasp breathily in her ear, “I will not be responsible for the things I do to you when we get home.”
She nips the exposed curve of my neck and not-so-accidentally lets her fingertips brush over the bulge in my crotch.
I seize her wrist and hold it at arms’ length. “Bad girl. No treat for you.”
Clara’s eyes flash with mischievous fire. “Awww, but I was looking forward to playing with your bone.”
I’m not allowed to respond to that because we’re at the checkout counter, our kid’s within earshot, and I have to pretend like I’ma respectable, responsible father and husband who is absolutely not imagining bending his wife over the conveyor belt and making a warm, gooey mess of her insides.
