Page 25 of You'll Be Sorry

The pet store, appropriately named Four Your Paws Only, was cute and boutiquey. And in addition to shampoo and conditioner, as well as a dog brush, dog bed, half a dozen dog toys, and an entire box of homemade dog treats, it did offer general advice.

Raquel had one source of consolation. The giggly young woman helping them, generally the type to swoon over Theo, didn’t evengive him a second glance; she was too busy swooning over Mr. Man.

“You said he just turned up on your front porch? But you’ve taken him to the vet, and, oh, look at this gorgeous collar. You’re such a lucky boy, yes, yes you are. What a good dog to have found such great people.”

She shot Raquel and Theo a beaming smile of approval, then went back to loving on their-dog-not-their-dog, who’d totally given up on feigning regal composure for blissed-out abandonment.

“Sure you’re prepared to no longer be the most attractive male in the family?” Raquel asked her husband.

“Yes!” He patted the now-drooling mutt on top of his head, added another toy to the pile, and proceeded to spend the average person’s weekly salary on a stray that would probably be safely ensconced with its real family in a matter of days.

“Karma,” he stated when they’d reached their SUV, rear hatch open, a pile of purchases crowding the pavement. “You know you’d want someone to treat your missing pet this kindly.”

“I don’t intend on ever having a pet.”

“Then your—”

He stopped, fumbled for a second. And just like that…Even the dog seemed to know. He pressed against Theo’s leg, whined softly.

“I didn’t mean…” Theo began.

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not—”

“It has to be!” Raquel’s voice, harsher than she intended. “Otherwise, what? We spend the next week, months, years of our lives tripping over each other? Constantly watching every word we say? What was, was. And what will not be, will not be. We’re either okay with it, or not. And if we’re not okay with it, well then, I need you to tell me right now. Then we can be done versus, what, dragging out the pain just to end things anyway?”

Theo appeared genuinely stricken. And she felt like the world’s biggest bitch. She couldn’t take the words back, though, wouldn’t take them back. They’d been burning in her throat for months. She was the weak link. Her problem, her limitations. And she wasn’t lying. She’d take surgical amputation over death by a thousand paper cuts any time.

Theo placed both hands on her shoulders. He peered directly into her eyes.

“I love you,” he stated quietly. “Forever and always.”

She burst into tears, right there in the middle of the parking lot, new dog/mutt/stray at their feet.

Theo drew her into his arms. She cried harder as he cradled her against him. A matter of seconds, no more than ten, then she pulled back, quickly swiping the moisture from her face, already mortified.

She hated feeling this weak, this needy.

But then she hated so much these days.

Her mother’s voice once again flitting across the back of her mind:Now you’re just like me.

You’re dead, she thought savagely. You’re dead, you’re dead, you’re dead. Now stay dead!

If only it were that simple.

She turned away from Theo, determinedly loaded the next bag into their vehicle. They headed home in silence.

Raquel hadn’t been lying—not her dog, not her problem. And if that meant she’d never be granted sainthood, fine by her. But even if she had no intention of participating in the great dog grooming experiment, that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy the show.

Sure enough. One hose hooked up with an eight-pattern nozzle. Several practice shots with varying amounts of water pressure. One excited mutt snapping at droplets and sprays, tail wagging. Then, Theo turning the stream onto the dog…

And they were off. Dog was fast. But so was Theo. Leaping and bounding. Canine, man, man, canine. Both of them clearly having the time of their lives. Theo laughing, Mr. Man grinning as they tore around the overgrown yard, looped the drive. Onto the porch. Off the porch. Into the woods, out of the woods. Raquel shook her head, then found herself giggling as she watched two of the goofiest males she’d ever met play an extremely exuberant game of tag.

She’d been raised to look down on the Theos of the world, trust funders who wouldn’t last a day in the “real world.” It had taken Raquel all of one week to realize Theo’s strength was his joie de vivre. He wouldn’t just survive an apocalypse, he’d build a nightclub, gather up all the survivors, and have the entire community singing and dancing on Friday nights. Theo wasn’t the kind who endured. He was the kind who made it all worthwhile.

Apparently with bathing optional.