Think Sadie times a thousand.
Connor must say something else, and Rose agrees in French and then shuts off her phone. She says to the kitten, “You can eat a million birds, just not the bird. If you have any disagreements, tell me now.”
The kitten meows and rubs her cheek against the glass like scratch me. For a moment, I think: Rose Calloway Cobalt can communicate with felines.
Proof! Proof!
Rose is Catwoman to Connor’s Batman.
This is a historic moment. Let me digest.
“What do you mean by bird?” Poppy asks, the eldest of us. She also has no pets, but I think she’s mostly concerned about the hoopla behind us and all the craziness we let into our lives.
“Ben has wanted a bird.” Rose grips the door handle of Pet Paradise but pauses at Poppy’s confusion. “What?”
“You’re about to buy a bird and a cat right now?”
It’s an impulsive buy for Rose, but she’s done way more impulsive things in our lives. “I called Connor, we agreed on the purchase. I’d rather have a motherfucking bird than a snake.”
“Who asked for a snake?” Daisy wonders.
“Who do you think?”
“Eliot,” we all say.
“And he’s not getting it.” Rose yanks the door open. “I’ll meet you back here in a second.”
“Wait,” I call out before she disappears inside the store. “Sisterly advice?”
Those magic words lift up her lips. She sees me pet the basset hound. I know my four kids will love him as much as me.
“You can handle a dog,” Rose tells me so strongly. “The better question is if your annoying husband can.”
“Ooooh!” the crowds shout at Rose’s insult.
Rose only wears satisfaction as she enters the store.
My brows crinkle. Lo. I definitely have to ask him before I make this decision. I hurriedly take out my phone, snap a picture of the basset hound, and text Lo.
Puppy????????
Daisy steps out of the gate and says to Poppy and me, “I think I’m going to stick around and make sure all these dogs get adopted today. I might be able to attract more people over here.” Might is an understatement.
There are tons of people around Pet Paradise because we’re here. My little sister has a big heart that might not be noticed by all, but I feel Daisy’s kindness every time we’re together.
My phone vibrates.
:) – Lo
A smiley face! I’ll take it.
* * *
“What the fuck, Lil?” Lo whispers heatedly, our bodies partially turned away from Luna, Moffy, and Xander across the living room. They play with the basset hound by the sofa, the dog licking their faces when they attack-hug him.
Cuteness levels in the Hale household just shot through the roof.
Which is why it’s so hard to surrender to Lo’s anger. “You texted me a smiley face. I thought that was a yes!”
Moffy glances over at us, and we both quickly angle more towards the kitchen door. Lo whispers back, “How was I supposed to know you were asking to get a goddamn dog? We”—he gestures from his chest to my chest—“don’t do animals. That’s not the Lo and Lily thing.”
“Lily and Lo thing,” I correct in a small voice.
He tilts his head and then cups my cheeks. “Lily Hale, we have no clue how to take care of a dog.”
“We didn’t know how to take care of a baby and now we have four,” I say proudly. “Didn’t just yesterday, you said, ‘you and me’”—I gesture from his chest to my chest—“‘we can do anything.’ Huh, huh?” I poke his abs.
He pinches my cheek.
I squint.
He almost smiles, but his sharp glare shadows the sliver of one. “You realize I said we can do anything in relation to fixing the toaster.”
“And that was a proud moment. We didn’t have to buy a new one, and we were able to save ourselves from cold Pop-Tarts.”
“That was a pretty great moment,” Lo says in a way that I hold my breath for the punch line. “It was so great I realize we should break the toaster every fucking day and fix it.” He mockingly opens the kitchen door for me. “You want to start, love?”
I realize I should’ve told him more clearly. “I’m sorry.” Guilt knots my stomach. “I’m really sorry, Lo. I should’ve actually called you like Rose called Connor. I fucked up.”
“No,” he immediately says. “It’s okay.” The guilt in my face reflects on his, and he wraps his arms around my shoulders and draws me to his chest.
I hold onto his waist. “I know a dog is an everyday chore, but it’s not unfeeling. It gives as much love as it receives.” His eyes sink downwards, so I add the truth, “I’ll find a new owner for the dog today. Rose will help.” She always does. “It’ll be like he was never here.”
Lo sets his chin on my head, and he watches our children chase the basset hound around the couch. He face-plants into the floorboards, and they all help him up and then he hop-skips after them. When he nears Kinney’s little rocker, she squeals in delight.
I look up at Lo.
He’s smiling.
Not a shadow of one. Not a partial one. A clear, whole smile.
His eyes drop to mine, and his acceptance washes me with light. “We know nothing about dogs,” he reminds me.
“Daisy already gave me some pointers, and she’s bringing over puppy food and some of Coconut’s old things tonight.”
Lo smiles again when the basset hound collapses on the rug, panting with his tongue hung out of his mouth. Luna rubs his belly, teary-eyed with happiness. Pleasing children is really easy. I gave Xander a lime
popsicle yesterday, and he acted like I conjured a rainbow out of the sky, just for him.
“What a dork,” Lo says about the dog. “Looks like he’s going to fit right in with all of us.”
I beam. “Are you sure?”
He kisses my cheek, his arms still around me, mine still around him. “I’m sure, Lily.”
Moffy springs up from the ground, out of breath from laughing, but he darts over to us. “We came up with his name!”
We angle towards our nine-year-old son. “Let’s hear it,” Lo says.
Moffy grins. “Gotham.”
You should see Lo’s face. He looks dismayed and perturbed. Sometimes I think Moffy gravitates towards DC comics just to see Lo’s what-is-the-world-coming-to expression that pops up solely for moments like these.
Moffy is already laughing again.
“This better be your biggest joke all year,” Lo says.
“No, really, that’s his name.” He calls out over his shoulder, “Right, Luna?”
Luna nods rapidly. “Gotham!” She giggles when he licks her cheek.
“Jesus Christ,” Lo says beneath his breath.
“It’s a great name, Moffy,” I tell him.
“No it’s not,” Lo says flatly.
“Lo,” I whisper.
Lo turns to me. “I’m not calling our dog Gotham.” He looks personally offended by this, and as soon as Moffy can see, his smile starts fading.
Our son starts, “We can change it—”
“No!” I shout. “You chose it. Right, Lo?” I lower my voice so only he can hear. “It doesn’t mean anything. Moffy just loves Batman.”
Lo tries to accept this. Then he says to Moffy, “If you want to call him Gotham, you can call him Gotham.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, but don’t expect me to call him that.”
Moffy begins smiling again. “What will you call him then?”
“Ham,” Lo says in all seriousness.
Moffy bursts out laughing and keeps nodding like that’s perfect.
“Ham?” My brows crinkle up at Lo. “I don’t think that’s an upgrade.”
Lo hugs me closer to his chest. “Oh it’s a fucking upgrade.”
In his Marvel-loving mind, I’m sure it is.