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“Even dogs who are the same colors as your cat? Look. She has black and white and orange fur just like Fluffy does.”

“That dog’s a poser.” Lavender slides a sneaky grin at Ginny.

Shade snickers.

“Flow, be a cat,” I say.

My dog drops to the ground again, rolls onto her back, and whine-howls a whine-howl that almost sounds like a cat yowling.

Ginny clears her throat and sucks her lips into her mouth as she pulls herself to her feet, half turned away from me.

Fuck.

I shouldn’t have told her.

I should’ve just done my thing here and left and not told her how I feel.

Felt.

How I felt.

How I can’t let myself feel again.

“That doesn’t sound like a cat,” Lavender says, clearly enjoying this game. “It sounds like a dragon with a stomachache after I slay it.”

Ginny keeps fighting her smile. “Lav, want to go get these gentlemen some breakfast before I take you back to your dad?”

“No.”

“Okay. Then it’s time to go back to your dad right now.”

“Fine. I’ll do something useful so I can be late to school.”

She lumbers to the kitchen, clearly taking her time.

Ginny bends over and rubs Flow’s belly. “Such a good girl.”

“You okay?” I ask her. “I imagine you weren’t expecting that greeting.”

She still doesn’t look me in the eye. “Every day’s better with doggy kisses. Are…you okay?”

No, I’m a pathetic chickenshit who can’t stop thinking about how I didn’t get to enjoy the feel of her on top of me last night. “All good.”

“Good. That’s good.”

An awkward silence falls between us.

Shade shifts a glance between me and Ginny, not asking why I wouldn’t be okay.

I don’t offer.

“You ever have a dog?” he asks Ginny.

“Not exactly.”

My jaw tightens.

Her mother adopted a dog for one season of their show, but rehomed it before the next season becauseGinny just isn’t mature enough to care for an animal.