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My puppy?
My heart skips a beat, and I look down at his pitiful little face, pinned ears, and whimpering eyes.
“It’s okay,” I whisper as I adjust my pace away from fleeing and more toward leisurely woodland stroll. Minus a promise of bears. “Sometimes people who are confident in their own skin have big personalities. And sometimes those personalities can freak people like us with smaller ones out.”
He lifts his face, regarding me dryly. I don’t know why—childhood trauma probably—but I can’t shake the feeling that he’s judging me.
He yips.
I fall in love.
Smiling, I kiss his little head. “I think I’ll name you…Oxford.”
His head tilts.
“Like the comma. Not anything else that Oxford reminds you of.”
He blinks.
“With an Oxford comma, items in a series that might be confusing are a little clearer. Observe: we are going to go to the store comma, get hummingbird feeders and pet supplies comma, go home Oxford comma, and cry into a tub of ice cream together.”
He stares at me. Like I am insane and he is afraid for his life.
“Okay. I know you couldn’t observe, since I was speaking, but if everything I’m saying were written down, you’d get it.” I cuddle him closer and remind myself he’s a tiny chihuahua and has no reason to hate me. If he does, though, I’ll bribe him with peanut butter until he’s forgotten why he hates me. Softly, I say, “Basically, we’re going to be just fine. When one chapter ends, another begins. Noah breaking up with me wasn’t the end of anything. It was the penultimate item in a series of unfortunate events. You’re the comma indicating as much.”
The real story starts now.
Chapter 1
~~~~~~~~~~~~
It’s a lovely day for bad decisions.
One year later
“A—” My sister cuts me off, leading into reason four hundred of why I should get a dating app, start swiping right, and get back out there.
“Food,” she states, then she says something in Japanese. Or Korean. I’m uncertain if she’s been watching an anime or a K-drama in the past twenty-four hours. “Think about all the free food you could get on dates.”
I adjust the little sombrero I’m putting on Oxford and roll my eyes. “Think of all the tabs horrible guys would leave me with. Think of all the awful men who would assume I owe them something if they buy me a ten dollar meal at Steak ’N Shake.”
A momentary reprieve followed by, “Why are you going on a date at Steak ’N Shake?”
“I like their cheese fries.”
Alana sniffs. “Okay. Fair point. But opt for something a little fancier on a date.”
“Like Taco Bell?”
“Normally, I would agree. But humor me and try again.”
“If I opt for something fancier, I won’t be able to afford it when I’m left with the bill.” I hand Oxford a tiny stuffed taco. He looks at it, then at me, then back at it before gingerly biting it. I beam, tuck my cell phone receiver away from my mouth, and whisper, “Sit, baby.”
He plants his cute patoot in his cute poncho down with a snuffly dog huff.
Alana drawls, “Can’t you tell when a man’s going to be a jerk from the first moment you see him?”
“Unfortunately, no.”
