There was a silence.
“Maybe I should have been more specific. I meant Rottweiler or Doberman or that dog that the guy at the feed store has, that big black super hairy thing, when I said you should get a dog. Not something that probably craps little pellets. Like a bunny.”
He could feel her temper and tension winding.
“I could only get one dog. So I got this one.”
He could have said, “That dog may not last out the year.”
He could have said, “Boy, they saw you coming.”
She knew all that, too. And even though she probably despaired at the knowledge, she would love it anyway.
He didn’t know whether this was madness or bravery.
She put Chick Pea gently on the ground. She wasn’t even as high as the top of Mac’s boot.
He looked down at the dog, frowning. Inwardly, he knew that same peculiar reflex to protect.
Chick Pea radiated joyous simplicity up at him. And switched her fluffy backside a little.
“Does she at least bark?” he tried. His voice was tense, too.
Chick Pea turned an excited circle and made a sound. It sounded more like a soft beeping sound than a yap.
He closed his eyes and shook his head. “Dear God. A fifteen-year-old asthmatic collie would still do a better job of guarding you and your house than...” He gestured at the fluff-ball.
“Her name isChick Pea. Chick Pea! Just because you can’t be bothered to name your cat because that would imply you cared about it and caring about things is for suckers, right, Mac?”
He froze, astounded.
“Hehasa name.” He was absurdly, badly stung.
“‘The Cat’ is not a name,” she retorted. “It’s a... a... setting on a See ’n Say toy.” She mimed pulling a string and cocked her head and nastily mimicked, “‘The Cat says meo—’”
His voice rose. “That’s hisname. His name is The Cat. Initial caps on both words. Like The Hulk, or The Green Lantern, or The Dude. He’s called The Cat because he clearly is thebestcat, so obviously there could be no other name. THE. CAT. When we go to the vet, that’s what they call out. The Cat.”
He was aware that while he wasn’t shouting, he also wasn’tnotshouting.
Chick Pea made one of those beeping bark sounds, so she was doing her part to be a guard dog.
He knew the conversation wasn’t really about the dog. It was about all the swirling amorphous emotions Avalon had brought right back into his life, and the net result was a ramping anger.
Did shereallythink that was who he was?
Shouldn’t it be goddamn obvious that he cared beyondreason?
Chick Pea was sniffing his boot now, which made him want to snatch her up and tuck her under his arm. Jesus, a coyote would nosh on this dog in seconds. A stiff wind would blow it into the next county.
And then he saw the rolled-up trade magazine in Avalon’s hand. She was gripping it pretty tightly, as if she wanted to swat flies with it. Or maybe strangle it.
It was some sort of gaming organization supplement, a free-with-membership trade magazine type of thing.
It was impossible not to see who was on the cover. The curly dark hair, the wide smile, the calculatedly dorky glasses, the slightly too-big nose. The boyfriend.
He had a hunch some of her mood had something to do with his tension, too.
“You subscribe toTools Monthly, eh, Avalon?”