Page 65 of Olivia's Only Pretending
I tugged Gracie into a hug, and Lucy threw her arms around both of us while Watson circled our huddle, slowly wrapping the leash around us.
For the rest of the walk, Lucy’s question echoed in my mind.How did Victor make me feel about myself?Many of the words she used were true for me, too. He made me feel interesting, strong, and smart. Our friendship made me feel brave. It made me feel safe.
But there was more, too. Victor made me feel silly and carefree, like the goofball kiddo I’d decided to tuck away when my dad left, so I could be the mature eldest daughter my mom needed. She was let loose in his presence. She finally got her time.
And he made me feel good about things I’d been taught to apologize for. With Victor, my know-it-all self wasn’t something to tone down. He always treated it like an impressive asset.
The good our relationship brought far and away outweighed the bad.
But the bad was a giant neon sign flashing one word: terrified. I wasterrifiedof ruining all this good with my new, confusing feelings.
I was stuck in my head while Gracie and Lucy discussed some celebrity gossip I knew nothing about. Their voices were background noise. Watson veered off the sidewalk, nose twitching as he sniffed something in a bush. He pawed at something hidden in the leaves; his ears perked at attention before he jumped back with a loud whimper.
“Watson?” I jogged toward him.
My sisters crowded around him, too.
He couldn’t step on his right front paw, whimpering when he tried to stand on it.
“What do I do?” My mouth went dry. I scrambled for my phone. I tried Victor, but he didn’t answer.
Lucy tried Adam in case they were together, but he was driving back from a meeting and not around Victor.
I tried Victor again—nothing. I glanced at poor Watson, who kept his paw curled up in pain.
“I know where Watson’s vet office is,” I said to my sisters.
Both were kneeling down, stroking Watson’s golden fur. He looked up at me with his big, amber eyes.
“I think I should just take him myself.”
Nineteen
Me
Victor, I took Watson to the vet! I think something bit his paw. Meet me there when you can.
Watson was limping along in the parking lot of Pawsitively Perfect Veterinary Clinic, trying to avoid using his right front paw, which he had curled close to his chest. We were not going to make much progress, both of us walking. I finally slung my purse over my back and scooped him into my arms.
He was a big, heavy golden retriever, even for only around a year old. I wobbled into the office, out of breath after fighting with the door.
“Oh, hi there,” the front desk receptionist greeted me with a sympathetic head tilt. “Is everything okay?”
“No,” I said, as Watson placed his paws on either of my shoulders. “His name is Watson. He’s a patient here. We were on a walk only half an hour ago, and he was sniffing in the grass andpawing at something, then jolted back. Now he can’t stand on his right paw.” I reached for the paw to hold it up. “See?”
The clerk stepped out from behind the front desk to examine Watson’s paw.
I glanced around the clinic. It was a slow day, only one woman with tight blonde curls in the waiting room, with a sleeping cat on her lap.
“I’m Joanne, by the way,” the receptionist said as she walked back toward the office. “Watson, here, seems to have been bitten, but it looks manageable. Dr. Sanders can see him right away and get him all fixed up.” She started clicking on her computer keyboard. “And what’s your name and address?”
Oh. She probably thinks I’m his owner.My palms began to sweat. What if they wouldn’t see Watson without his owner present? What if they took him back there but wouldn’t let me go with him? He’d be so scared.
I was one of his favorite people now.
“He’s probably registered here under Victor Hernandez’s name and address on Cherry Avenue. Victor’s the one who always brings him to his appointments.” I swallowed. I knew the next words out of my mouth were ridiculous, but I said them anyway. “But I’m Watson’s co-owner. I’m engaged to Watson’s dad, Victor, so I’m basically his mom.”
If this was an odd way to put it, Joanne wasn’t fazed. She brushed a strand of her dark brown hair behind her ear. “Yes, I see your fiancé’s information here.”
