Fuck.
Ignoring Nadia’s shrieks of outrage and disgust, I calmly led Brontë to the back door and let her outside.
“I know you just went,” I told her. “I’m just trying to spare you from that.” I pointed in the direction of my ex. “I’ll be back soon.”
I shut the door, took a breath, and headed back to where Nadia had left her one soiled shoe in the puddle, the other kicked toward the corner of the entryway.
“I’m taking a shower,” she shouted from the second story.
“What? No! Goddammit, I have to go!” But the water was already running. And by the sound of it, she was in my bathroom rather than the second-floor guest bathroom. Because of course.
Fuming, I stared down at my phone resting in a puddle of Brontë’s pee. She had never gone in the house before and I wondered if she’d done it out of fear of Nadia, or on purpose because she hated her. I wanted to believe it was the latter.
The issue now was that I couldn’t text Lior back. Because, much as I loved my dog, her pee was not so precious that I was willing to put my hands in it just to save a phone. I’d have to run out and get a new one as soon as Nadia got out of my damn shower.
The phone went off again with another text alert. I leaned over and looked at the screen.
“You still coming?”
Lior.
Shit.
With a long sigh, I picked my phone up out of the puddle just as the screen blurred and then went blank. Awesome. Suddenly very tired, I set the phone on the side of the sink, washed my hands, and sat down at the kitchen table.
Nadia appeared in my kitchen nearly an hour later with damp hair and wearing the same jeans she’d had on, but with one of my t-shirts, which she was practically drowning in.
“I don’t recall B peeing on your shirt,” I said.
“It got wet when I turned on the shower.”
“How?”
She shrugged and I exhaled slowly, silently counting to ten.
“Are you leaving now?” I asked.
“I am.”
I got to my feet.
“So are you going to tell me about you and Lior Flynn?” she asked as we headed to the front door.
“I am not.”
“I’ve met her before, you know.”
“That’s great.”
“I can’t believe you’re not having a fit about Marley being photographed.”
She was leaning against the wall, still as pretty as ever on the outside. But I’d seen her for who she was, and all the outward beauty in the world couldn’t make up for the ugly that was inside her.
“I really have to get going,” I said, ushering her toward the front door. “I’ll have your shoe cleaned and sent to you.”
She stopped and waited for me to open the door for her. She was holding the clean shoe in her hand.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll just buy a new pair.”
