Page 23 of The Plus Ones
I can see the tension melting from her face and body.
“Even though you’ve been an irrational stubborn asshole about it for over five years.”
She rolls her eyes. “Dude. Know when to stop talking.”
“I’m done.”
She stares down at Jackpot again. “Why does he look so uptight?”
“He hasn’t taken a shit yet today.”
“Why not?”
“He doesn’t like to go on the snow. I can’t make him.”
She screws up her face at me, takes a step closer to Jackpot, uses her foot to clear snow away from a large patch of cement next to him, points to it, and says, “Jackpot. Do your business. Right now. Right there.”
My dog makes a weird grumbly noise, steps over to the cleared patch, turns around a few times, squats, and lays a miracle turd while looking up at her.
“Atta boy! Good boy!” she says.
I would say the same, but I’m too stunned to speak. I pull the small bag from my pocket and pick up my dog’s perfectly formed poop with it.
“Atta boy,” she says to me.
I hand her the leash and walk over to the nearest trash bin. That did not make her the alpha in this relationship, but it did impress the shit out of both me and Jackpot. I guess I’m an idiot and an asshole for not thinking to clear away snow for my dog. Whatever. I would have figured it out eventually.
When I return to Roxy, all I can say is: “You need to come with me.”
“Yeah. Fine. I’ll go. But I’m not ‘going with you.’ I’m going to be with Aimee and Chase and Matt and Bernadette. I’m going to get out of this wintry cesspool of a city, and I’m going to get a tan. I’m going to that resortdespitethe fact that I will have to share a cottage with you.”
“And a plane ride.”
“We don’t have to fly together.”
“We do have to give the impression of being a couple in public.”
“Whatever. Just send me the information. I’m not sharing a bed with you.”
“Fair enough.”
“I’m not kissing you.”
“Famous last words.”
“I mean it.”
“Fair enough.”
She looks down at Jackpot, who hasn’t stopped staring up at her like he’s madly in love. “Who’s gonna look after this guy?”
“He stays at a really great dog hotel when I’m out of town. No kennels. He likes it there.”
“I bet. I’m sure he’s thrilled to get a break from you.”
I hold out my hand for her to give the leash back to me. She places the handle in my palm and crouches down to rub my dog’s head. “It was nice meeting you, Mr. Jackpot.”
He barks at her. A not at all subtle plea for her to take him with her.
