“Don't feed it.”
“Why?”
“Because then it stays.”
I tear off a piece.
Xavier stares at me.
“Don't.”
I give it to the dog.
He eats it.
Xavier closes his eyes.
“There. Now we have a dog.”
“We do not have a dog.”
The dog lies down on my bare foot.
I look at Xavier.
He looks at the dog.
I smile.
Xavier points at me.
“No.”
“I didn't say anything.”
“You're thinking.”
“I always think.”
“You're keeping it.”
“I have made no such decision.”
The dog's eyes close.
I stroke one ragged ear.
Xavier reaches for champagne.
“This marriage is already becoming expensive.”
“You own an airplane.”
“That doesn't mean I want a dog.”
“Your wife does.”
He stops with the glass halfway to his mouth.