And if Violet wasn’t rubbing her wrists like the reddened skin pained her, then I might go another round. But these lessons are meant to keep her from getting hurt, not cause injury.
“Next session, we’ll go again. For now, I think we need to revisit rule number one.”
Violet groans. Manuel tilts his head side to side, loosening the muscles in his neck as he moves to stand near the door, hand on the handle.
I don’t let the country singer’s—admittedly adorable—pout sway me. “When you sense danger, what is the first rule?” I use my coldest instructor’s tone.
She rolls to her feet and heads toward the exit.
“Run.”
CHAPTER 43
CHARLIE
For the past three nights, Pig has crawled into my bed, eventually followed by my wife.
The sleeping arrangement always stays platonic, with the snoring dog between us. Nothing like what happened in the kitchen. The first morning after, I told Luna nothing had to change about our arrangement. I expect nothing more than what we originally agreed to.
She gave a firm nod, told me that sounded good, then accepted the bag lunch I’d packed her and left for work.
Since then, things have been … odd.
Almost like hooking up in the kitchen opened Luna up to more physical closeness. But nothing sexual. I don’t know where I stand, but I’m just glad we’re not over.
And that we’re sharing a bed.
Luna left the covers a few minutes ago, and I can hear her beginning-of-the-day routine down the hall in her bathroom. Palming my morning wood, I wait till I hear her shower running before climbing out of bed and ducking into the guest bathroom.
Thoughts of my wife fill my head when I grip myself in the shower. The gasps she made and the rake of her nails against my skull. By the time I’m out and drying myself off, the slam of the front door lets me know she’s gone. I wasn’t intentionally dodging her. Luna’s schedule changes daily based on her clients, which means I haven’t been able to plan to be in the kitchen with her when she’s making breakfast. Some days, it happens. Other days, Pig and I have the house to ourselves.
To avoid thoughts about the uncertainty of my relationship with my wife, I try to focus on my life plan. But just like every other day this month, time passes, and I still have no solution.
Pig is no help. The dog trots beside me now, tongue lolling out the side of her wide mouth as she happily pants after her hour of tussling in the dog park. We could have gone straight home afterward. Pig got plenty of exercise. No need to walk along this city sidewalk.
But with nothing to do at the house other than clean, I find myself drawn to a place that calms me.
C & M Guitar Studio.
With Pig at my side, I have no plans to go in, but the shop has an amazing selection on display in their front window. I spend a good ten minutes running my eyes over the Gibsons while Pig sits patiently at my feet.
“That’s a well-behaved dog.”
The observation comes from my right in a vaguely familiar voice. I meet the stare of Cassandra, the C of C & M.
“Thank you. I’d like to take credit, but she basically came this way.”
Cassandra nods, giving the two of us a speculative look. “As long as she stays mellow, you can bring her in. I’ve got some new stock. More interesting than these.”
The woman pulls the front door of the shop open and holds it for me.
“Thanks.” I eagerly follow her, leaning down to give Pig a pet because she’s a good girl. “I’ve been meaning to come by dogless, but Pig and I tend to spend the entire day together.”
The store owner snorts. “Pig?”
“She came with that too. Fits her though.”
We both glance at the dog, with her short legs, slight potbelly, and heavy nose that gives the appearance of a snout.
