She drops her gaze. “It’s beautiful.”
“But you’re not even looking at it.”
“I was,” she replies, eyes lifting to meet mine.
Maybe she means us! Maybe she thinks we’re beautiful. Make a move. Now! Tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. Lift her chin. Tell her there’s nothing more beautiful in the whole room except her. Do it!
“I…um…like your dress.”
Her whole face brightens, and something tightens in my chest.
“Nancy brought it up, but I’m not sure if she liked it or not.”
“How could she not have? It’s perfect,” I murmur.
Chelsea’s eyes widen in surprise. “Perfect?”
Our gazes lock for a beat too long, and I plunge a hand into my hair. “Yes, well, anyway?—”
Her gaze darts to the right. “What’s that?”
I turn around. “Where?”
“There, by the bookcase.”
Curled up beside the bookcase is a small shadow. “Oh, that’s just something that came through when the nightmare did.”
“But its shape?—”
That’s when it hits me. The shadow is small, about the size of a basketball. Something in the back of it sweeps back and forth.
“A puppy,” Chelsea exclaims.
She brushes past me, her arm sliding over mine, setting my skin on fire.
I follow Chelsea to where she’s crouched in front of the shadow. She holds her hand out, and the shadow steps timidlyforward and sniffs. I see what she does—the clear outline of a dog.
I scratch my head. “Well, that’s new.”
The shadow has stopped sniffing her hand and lowers down on its front legs, rear high and tail wagging.
“I think it wants to play. Do you have a ball?”
“No, I can’t say?—”
Make one, you idiot! Women love it when men have puppies. Nurture the shadow. Breastfeed it. Do whatever you have to, to get Chelsea to melt!
Chelsea looks up at me, a smile of delight on her face. Right then something inside me shifts, and I will do just about anything to have her look at me like that.
“We could make one together,” I offer.
She goes still. “Together?”
I nod.
“How?”
“With a little pixie dust and rubber.”
