8. Stella
CHAPTER 8
STELLA
W ow, I had those guys pegged. There are probably kids in Jessie’s class who are more mature than the two of them.
Guys shouldn’t be allowed to be that handsome on the outside, while being absolute children on the inside. But my god, they’re every bit as good looking as they were this morning—in fact, even more so in the daylight versus under the fluorescent lights in the store.
Their arms alone, all thick and bulging with muscles under the workout-type clothes they were wearing, are enough to make a woman drool. They both have big, strong-looking hands, and there was a moment when Wyatt was petting G that I envied the dog.
But a marshmallow battle? So ridiculous. So childish.
I march back to my house, put G in his crate, then do a super fast, if not very thorough, cleanup job in the back yard before I rush out to pick up Jessie.
Sometimes, when something interesting happens in my day–which is rare–I tell Jessie about it during the ride home, but I decide to keep all of today’s nonsense to myself.
I do tell her about Ana’s visit, and as soon as we get home, before she even takes her jacket off, Jessie opens the gift Ana left for her, which turns out to be a crystal-growing kit.
“So cool!” she says. “Auntie Ana always knows exactly what I like.”
“That does look very cool. Maybe we can get it started tonight after you do your homework.”
“I will, but first, Goldfish!”
At first, the name Jessie chose for the dog caused some confusion. When she was excited about goldfish, I was never sure whether she was talking about the dog or she wanted a snack. After a few days, it became clear that Jessie was always talking about the dog.
“Uh oh, Mommy.”
My stomach sinks at her tone. “What’s the matter, sweetie?”
“Goldfish is sick.”
I join my daughter at the dog’s crate, where there’s another foamy white puddle, much bigger this time than the spot by the door. Luckily, the crate is large, and Goldfish seems to have managed to stay clear of the mess.
“Jessie, can you do a favor for me? There was a very weird thing that happened earlier, and I’ll tell you all about it later, but I need your help right now while I clean this up.”
“Okay, Mommy.”
I hand her a small grocery bag from the cupboard. “Could you please search the back yard for marshmallows, and pick up every one you can find, and put them in this bag?”
“Marshmallows?” Her voice pitches up higher, understandably incredulous.
“That’s right. To make a long story short, there are two men who live in the house behind ours, and they accidentally launched a lot of marshmallows into our yard. Goldfish ate some, and that’s why his tummy’s upset.”
Jessie giggles but then stops herself. “I’m not laughing because Goldfish is sick, but that’s really silly about the marshmallows.”
I nod. “I agree. Very silly.”
After the mess and the remaining marshmallows are cleaned up, and Goldfish has been allowed in the back yard, Jessie brings him back inside and offers him a snack, which is part of her after-school routine.
“He won’t take the treat, Mommy.”
“Maybe he’s still full from the marshmallows.” That’s what I tell her, and maybe it’s true, but G has proven himself to have an insatiable appetite. He’s never passed by a single crumb, much less turned down a treat. So this is concerning.
Twenty minutes later, he throws up again.
When Jessie starts on her homework, I open the browser on my phone, search, “dog ate too many marshmallows,” and instantly feel sick, when I find out that certain ingredients in sugar-free marshmallows can be toxic.
This could be more than just an upset stomach.
Marissa’s due home from work soon, so I try not to worry while I wait to discuss things with her. In the meantime, G throws up again.
While I’m grabbing paper towels to clean up the mess, the doorbell rings. Marissa is my first thought, though I can’t imagine why she’d ring the bell when she typically pulls into the garage.
I open the door to find Cam and Wyatt standing there. They’ve changed back into jeans and shirts, similar to what they were wearing this morning. Cam’s in a dark button-down that is again one button lower than how most men would wear it. Wyatt’s in a maroon-colored henley that stretches across his chest like it’s holding on for dear life. I can’t fault it. But I have bigger concerns right now than ogling these man-boys.
“What’s up?” Before, I was just irritated about the mess, but now I’m truly fearful about what’s wrong with the dog, and it’s these men’s antics that are responsible.
“We came by to find out how Goldfish is doing,” Wyatt says.
I look over my shoulder to confirm that Jessie’s out of earshot. “He’s not doing great. He’s thrown up several times, and he won’t eat. What kind of marshmallows were you using?” Even though I saw them in their shopping cart, I didn’t pay attention to the packaging.
“What kind?” Cam asks.
“What brand? I need to know if any were sugar free or had xylitol in them.” I lower my voice to a whisper. “Xylitol can be toxic to dogs.”
“Oh, shit!” Wyatt runs a hand through his hair, looking distraught.
“Most were the major national brand, but we bought up all we could find,” Wyatt says, making my heart sink.
“Have you taken him to the vet?” Wyatt asks.
I shake my head. “I just found out that it could be serious, and I’m waiting for my roommate to come home. He’s technically her dog.”
“We’ll pay for the vet visit,” Cam says quickly.
“In fact, we can drive him to the vet,” Wyatt adds, “so you don’t have to worry about a mess in your car. We’re so sorry about this.”
Both of them look as worried as I feel, and their concern softens my opinion of them a little.
I’m not too sure about having them drive, because I had a bad feeling about them this morning, but then I remember that was because I thought they were following me home from the store, and now I know they were taking the same route because they live in the same neighborhood.
As I’m considering how to respond to their offer, Marissa pulls into the driveway. She casts a curious look at me and the two men on the porch before her car disappears into the garage.