Chapter 2 Daniella
DANIELLA
Daniella dashed up the front steps and paused at the front door.
Coming home to Trey was always a mix of dread and delight.
He was her favorite person in the whole world, and she finally felt like she understood her dog Fabio’s eager greetings because everything got brighter and happier and safer the moment that she saw Trey.
(She also genuinely wanted to lick him.)
But there was always the question of what he had managed to break, fight, or light on fire while she was away.
Tips had been meager that day—everyone was saving their money for extravagant Valentine’s Day dinners out, and Daniella had seen plenty of grouchy singles who resented the paper hearts and sparkles that decorated the cafe.
She sympathized with their bitterness. This was the first year she’d had a partner to celebrate with, and he didn’t even know what the holiday was.
Daniella had avoided mentioning it because Trey, bless his big heart, threw himself into everything he did with the same enthusiasm as Fabio did.
After the Groundhog Day fiasco, Daniella had done her best to avoid exposing Trey to commercials and television in general.
She couldn’t isolate him from all of the pervasive advertising, but she downplayed the importance and was evasive about his questions regarding the sudden proliferation of hearts and candy.
She must have made a sound because Fabio suddenly bayed in greeting. Daniella turned the handle and went in.
The house was not on fire, but it reeked like fingernail polish.
“Trey? Robin?” Daniella shoved Fabio out of the way and stared at the scene.
Trey was kneeling at the edge of the carpet, a stained dishtowel in his hands. “I am sorry!” he cried. “I glued Robin and spilled your tiny paints! It is very tenacious!”
Indeed, Robin was swearing very colorfully, standing on the coffee table, and they were struggling with strings of glue and shreds of stuck paper, like an ill-conceived mummy. Three of her nail polish jars were open and shining polish had spilled onto the table and off onto the floor.
Fabio was not helping matters, whining and jumping to greet her, turning and bumping into everything and everyone, dragging his feathery tail over the disaster.
Daniella could just imagine Robin getting glued to Fabio and she hollered at him, “Sit! Down! No, don’t—” as his tail overturned another open bottle of polish.
Daniella dropped her purse by the door as Trey caught the bottle with his superhuman reflexes, but Robin got a face full of Fabio’s tail and fell sideways before Fabio realized what Daniella was telling him to do and finally put his butt on the floor. His tail thumped hopefully.
“Oh, is that my good Christmas dish towel?” It was stained scarlet and Trey looked like he would wear it in penance if she asked him to.
“Yes, let’s worry about the dish towel,” Robin sputtered stridently as they rose back to their feet. “Never mind the fable who is covered in toxic glue, dog hair, and terrible poetry.”
“It is toxic?” Trey said in horror.
“It rhymes so poorly it might as well be,” Robin growled.
“That’s white school glue,” Daniella said, trying to hold back her laughter.
“It’s made to be eaten by school children—no don’t taste it, Trey, that’s just to prove that it won’t hurt Robin.
It should come off with water. The nail polish, though…
” There was a small river of red soaking into the carpet.
Fabio, perhaps suspecting that he was in trouble, put his face down on the floor and crept towards it with his tongue lapping the air, which could also be a sign that he might need to go out. “Fabio, no. Leave it. Trey, will you take him outside while I take care of this?”
Trey and Fabio gave identical sighs of resignation and guilt. “I have failed you,” Trey said dramatically, but he dragged Fabio out by the collar while Daniella went to get her nail polish remover and hope that it didn’t stain the carpet.
By the time she had gotten all of the polish up, Robin had peeled most of the paper from their skin and clothing.
“What were you doing with my makeup?” she asked Robin, tightening the lids on her polish. “What did you talk Trey into doing? How did he even manage this?”
“He wanted to make you something for Valentine’s Day,” Robin said carelessly. “I did almost none of the talking. How could I possibly be any influence? I am far too small. And Trey has little experience with squeeze bottles and gets excited.”
“You are far less innocent that you are trying to pretend you are,” Daniella said. “And he didn’t have to do anything for me.”
“He doesn’t know that,” Robin pointed out. They put a small hand on Daniella’s wrist when it was in reach, holding her there with the tiniest amount of pressure. “He is still adrift in your world, and he wants to be a part of your human habits. He’s…just bad at it.”
Daniella looked over the ream of ruined paper—what Trey hadn’t actually used was stained and smudged.
Her blush was half gone, sprinkled liberally over the table, and it looked like he’d tried to use her lipstick to write with.
He’d also used a pen and scratch paper, writing calligraphy script love words and—Robin wasn’t wrong—terrible poetry that didn’t scan at all.
Daniella, my desire
Daniella, my key
Forever will she inspire
Me to be —a bee?
Sipping nectar
From her lips
I will always respect her
Thankful hips
“Thankful hips?” Was she reading that wrong? There were a few crooked hearts, as if Trey had never drawn one before. Probably, he hadn’t.
“Bad at it,” Robin reminded her. “But he’s trying. He was heartbroken that he couldn’t take you out to dinner or buy you things.”
“I’ve been trying to shield him from our crass consumerism,” Daniella said. “It’s not like he can get a job and join the workforce. And I wouldn’t want chalky candies or tough steaks at an overpriced restaurant anyway. The poetry is kind of sweet.”
“Sweet like bad fruit that isn’t quite wine,” Robin agreed. “It’s frankly disgusting. But I did want to let you know that I’d be portaling over to Ansel and Gwen’s for the night. We’re ordering single-person pizzas.”
“Should you use that much power?” Daniella asked, understanding what he was offering. Robin was a thoughtful houseguest, but it was a romantic deterrent to constantly have them around underfoot.
“Believe me, I don’t want to be around tonight any more than you want me around,” Robin teased. They gave Daniella’s arm a tiny pinch. “I’m not doing this for you.”
Daniella tapped Robin gently on the forehead with one finger. “Thanks.”
“Don’t get all mushy on me,” Robin scoffed. “Save it for your knight.”
(Or maybe they said night.)