I’m not even a little surprised she’s filled more than half the cart. Honestly, I hoped she would. Spoiling her is my favorite thing.
Charlie fidgets, her hands twisting tighter as the total climbs. I quietly turn the screen away, then gently lift her chin so her eyes meet mine.
My thumb drifts along her skin as I keep her eyes on me. “Do books make you happy?”
“Yes.”
I lean in and brush my lips over her nose. “Making you happy is what matters most to me. Let me do this. It’s only money, beautiful, and I can’t take it with me when I die.”
The employee starts to say the total, but I shake my head and pay. I'm not wealthy, but the thousand dollars I just spent on books for my girl won't hurt me much. Honestly, I'd go broke if it made her happy.
Arms overflowing with bags, we head for the exit until Charlie spots the pet shop sign. She juggles her haul and tugs me to a sudden stop.
“Oh, no,” I say with a laugh, shaking my head. “No animals.”
Charlie peers up at me with begging eyes, her bottom lip poked out.
“No,” I repeat.
She steps closer, her lashes fluttering. “Please, dragon boy?”
Fucking not fair.
“Dammit,” I laugh. “Fine, let’s go.”
Charlie giggles, rises on her toes, and plants a quick kiss on my lips, leaving me frozen in place.
My heart hammers in my chest. It always shocks me when she initiates contact between us.
She tugs on my hand, pulling me from my stupor. “Come on.”
It’s harder to navigate through the crowded area with our hands full. I keep Charlie between my arms as best as I can so she doesn’t get knocked around too much. She stops in front of an area with an ankle-height white wooden fence. Kittens run, jump, and play throughout the space.
I feel myself melt just watching Charlie dissolve into pure joy in front of the kittens.
“Keaton, look at them,” she coos, setting her bags on the floor and squatting in front of the fenced area.
“I see them, beautiful.”
“Sit down,” she orders.
“Yes, ma’am.”
The moment I sit beside her, a tiny black kitten with blue eyes charges over and bats at my pant leg, then dashes away, only to spin and race back for another playful attack. This time, I scoop up the little troublemaker, peek under her belly, and laugh.
“You’re a feisty little thing, aren’t you, girl?”
“Bunch of high jinks,” Charlie croons.
She scratches the kitten’s chin, laughing when tiny teeth nip at her fingers. We fall into a comfortable silence, lost in play with the little ball of fur.
Then Charlie pulls the kitten into her arms and peeks over at me with pleading eyes.
“No,” I state, somewhat firmly.
Her little lip pokes out again as she pulls the kitten towards her face and turns them both to me.
“No, Charlie.”
