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I save his contact before setting the phone down.

He’s my boss, whom I’ve accidentally slept with, and I’m trying to steer clear of. This is the universe doing me a favor. Right?

Thankfully, I don’t have time to dig into that thought any further because, according to Tilly, it’s time for breakfast. She twirls beside me, her toenails clacking excitedly against the hardwood floor as she nudges me toward her food bowl.

Good, you’re up. Now see my bowl? There should be food in it…

“I know. I know. Breakfast first, then your morning potty break.” I mutter under my breath as I scoop the kibble into her bowl and refill her water.

My girl is strict. And you know what? I respect it. She knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to demand it. The world could use more women like that.

Propping my hip against the counter, I stare out the window, losing myself in my thoughts of all things Roman Kingsley while Tilly scarfs down her kibble.

I can’t figure him out. If you looked up husband material in the dictionary, his picture would be right underneath it. He’s the kind of man you lock down and marry, the first chance you get.

He's ridiculously handsome, charming, and filthy rich. He’s great in bed and has a penis that would make other men weep if they knew what he was packing. He’s smart, successful, and seems to be well-liked…

So why on earth is a man like that paying for sex?

What am I missing?

When she’s finished eating, Tilly looks up at me as if saying: I hate to interrupt, but I need to pee.

Rolling my eyes at our nonexistent argument, I walk over to the door. “Let’s make it quick, okay? I still need to finish getting read—” I barely crack it open before Tilly bolts past me, sprinting after a squirrel.

I follow her out, dropping the leash on the concrete with a clink. Oh well, as Roman said, the property’s fenced in. What’s the worst that could really happen?

My hair clings to my neck, water droplets soaking through my shirt. I slam my car door and stomp toward the building, fuming.

I guess that’s what I get for testing the universe and daring to think that anything could ever just be easy.

Waking up before my alarm should’ve been enough to tip me off about the direction my day would go. If not that, then Roman’s text. But no, in an extremely out-of-character moment, I thought I’d try adopting a spirit of optimism for a change.

Spoiler alert…it didn’t fit.

Turns out, when you ask the universe, “What’s the worst that could really happen?” it shows you.

In my case, through a very naughty Doberman, who decided to start her morning off with a dip in the swimming pool.

Matilda had the time of her life teasing me. She’d pretend to listen when I called her, only to run off and jump back in the pool before I could grab her.

I don’t know how long our game of chase went on for… I really hope Roman doesn’t have cameras out there.

When I finally got tired of her games, I went inside and finished getting ready. Which must’ve really pissed her off because when I came back out, I found her flailing in the deep end like she was drowning.

Naturally I panicked, thinking she’d gotten a cramp or something from swimming right after she ate—is that a thing? Do dogs even get cramps? Hell if I know, but I dove in after her, clothes and all, just in case.

The delighted smile she gave me once I finally joined her told me everything I needed to know. She played me.

Matilda - 1.

Kira - 0.

As if on cue, our mother-daughter morning swim was cut short when Lewis, the gardener, arrived only moments later, and Matilda miraculously jumped out of the pool to greet him.

Perhaps, someday, I’ll find the memory amusing, but, unfortunately, today is not that day. I don’t know how my sister does it every day, trying to get herself to work on time, plus two kids off to school. No wonder she always seems so nonchalant about things. She doesn’t worry half as much as you’d think for someone with the stress load she’s carrying. But maybe she’s just more evolved. She’s surpassed the frustration stage and fully embraced the reality of her chaos.

I think I’ll stick with my title as dog-mom for the foreseeable future.