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Princess hops into the back seat, then climbs over the console and nestles into the front passenger seat.
I sigh. She did this when we left the house, too.
“Alright, fine. But I’m buckling you in.” Thankfully, the leash we bought her to match her harness has an actual car buckle attached to it for moments like this.
Princess doesn’t give me any trouble while I buckle her in. She licks my face when I’m done and settles in for the ride to our next destination.
Every day with her further confirms my suspicions: she was never meant to be a violent dog. She simply loves, protects, and wants the same in return.
It’s only the assholes in this world who pull out her vicious side.
I do have other places to go, but nothing on an actual schedule, so I take us out for a drive-thru coffee and “pup cup.” Much to my surprise and immense relief, I’d completely forgotten all about the debit card Demyen set up for my cash account weeks ago—and how, on a quick trip out with Bambi, I’d left it in the pocket of my yoga pants.
It fell out of that pocket this morning when I started piling my laundry together. I feel like I’m winning the slot machine lottery all over again.
I don’t have to depend on Martin forshit.
Well, I did have to talk him into using my old SUV still stored away inside the garage. It’s not much, but it’s something—and it wasn’t difficult to point out to Martin that our daughteris in school, we need to be responsible parents available for emergencies, I have to buy groceries, et cetera. He was reluctant, but not unreasonable.
I’m going to abide by his demands and limit my errands.
For now.
But once we’ve settled into a predictable routine, I’m grabbing Willow and getting the hell out of Vegas. I’ll send a text to Bambi once we’re in the clear and maybe, hopefully, Demyen will meet us wherever we go.
I was… Well, ”happy” isn’t the right word. Content? That’s not it, either. Able? Yes. I wasableto sit by and wait for him to return for us—up until Martin started to put the moves on me after we tucked Willow into bed.
I said no.
He said yes.
I said no again.
He pushed me onto the bed.
I kicked him in the groin, shoved him off, and ran into Willow’s room.
He tried to follow me.
Princess growled a very clear warning of what would happen if he dared set a foot inside that room.
Martin went to bed. I slept on the floor next to Willow, pillowed by Princess’s curled body.
He tried apologizing this morning. I told him he needs to prove it by letting me use the SUV.
And thus, here I am, sipping a decaf latte and pulling up into the parking lot of the Las Vegas Police Department. Martin’s waiting for me outside, leaning against the railing and texting someone on his phone.
“Stay,” I order Princess. I make sure to roll down the window and pour some water into a little bowl I grabbed from the kitchen before we left. “I won’t be long, okay?”
She looks at Martin. Then at me. It doesn’t take a genius to read her mind.
“I know. I don’t like it, either. But we gotta get this done.”
I lock the car after another thorough check that Princess will be fine, then make my way over to where my still-ex is waiting.
He thinks we’re back together. I’m letting him think that only for as long as it takes to get the hell out of here.
“Ready?” he asks me. I nod and hope that’s enough, but of course, it never is with him. He slips his arm around the small of my back and leads us inside.
