Chapter 35
Chapter Thirty-Five
Danika
“I have to say, this is possibly my most unusual request for assistance so far.” Alan Doodson links his hands on his desk and smiles at them.
“I’ve represented both parties before—mediated an agreement, if you will—but never in this exact situation.
I’m happy to act for both of you and will do my utmost to come up with a fair solution for you and your daughters.
In turn, I expect you to be honest with me about your needs and expectations so we can reach an agreement that is acceptable to you both. ”
Danika looks at Kim, eyebrow raised.
Kim nods.
“I’m happy to proceed,” Danika says.
“You can take your time,” Alan says. “From what I understand, there’s no rush. I want you both to be confident I’m the best person to assist you.” He stands. “I’ll hunt down my assistant to bring us some coffee. If we’re lucky, there may be biscuits too.” The door closes behind him.
“I feel good about him,” Kim says. “Rightly or not, I feel I can trust him. I liked his explanation of how he’ll go about it. Research the law, consider our individual circumstances, assets, situation with Chris. The girls. He seems thorough.”
“Me too,” Danika says. “Compiling the asset lists will take the longest. I’ll have to remember what was mine to start with, what Chris and I bought together, and when. I’m not sure how to do that. Who keeps old receipts? I Marie Kondo’d them out of my life years ago.”
Kim laughs. “I have less than you, but yeah, same-same. Why don’t we just do our honest best? I’m not going to argue with you over who bought the air fryer and whether a picture was a personal gift or a joint investment.”
“Alan is thorough,” Danika agrees. “I’m happy with that.” She waits until Kim looks at her. “I still trust you, Kim. And I want this to be fair.”
One tiny part of her mind wonders if it’s even necessary.
But that is really a thousand steps too far.
Nothing lasts forever—and Chris showed her that the person you’d trust with your life can turn out to be the most untrustworthy of all.
No, she needs a calm, cool head. She needs that asset list. And yes, she trusts Kim.
Now she does. But if Kim, after all this, goes for the jugular for Bella’s sake, well, she will fight back.
But at this moment, she trusts Kim, and she’s confident about Alan.
And right now, even in a smart lawyer’s office, one part of her mind is thinking about Kim naked. Kim and her naked, and the things they did together.
She wants that back.
“You promised,” Cami whines. “You did.”
“I promised we could get a puppy for your birthday this year, yes,” Danika says. “But that’s not for another month.”
And now, with things so up in the air, she’s not sure where they’ll be living in a month’s time. A smaller house? An apartment that may not have a yard? How will she cope with a puppy then?
“It’ll take time to find the one I want,” Cami says. She stares up at Danika with wide eyes. “I don’t just want any dog; I want one that will love me as much as I love it. And I want one that no one else wants.”
That doesn’t sound good. “There’s often a reason why some dogs are difficult to home. Maybe they’re aggressive, or have had no training.”
“I’ll train it.” Cami’s jaw juts. “I’ll love it. And Bella will help. She wants a dog but can’t have one in the apartment.”
Apartment. That word again.
“We’ll start looking.” Danika capitulates. She has promised, after all. And if they have to move, well it will be good if Cami has a dog to love as she settles into a new home. “But smaller breeds only. No Irish wolfhounds or great Danes.”
Cami giggles. “I promise. The RSPCA is having an adoption day tomorrow.”
“Those will be mostly adult dogs,” Danika says.
“That’s okay. It doesn’t have to be a puppy. Can we go look?”
“Sure, we can.” Cami’s insistence on her perfect dog likely means they’ll be traipsing around the breeders, shelters, and pet shops for weeks to come. “We’ll go after soccer.”
“Can Bella come too?” She pouts. “It would be easier if Bella and I were on the same team.”
“I’ll call Kim.” She doesn’t answer the soccer team issue, because any team that’s geographically in the middle will add a lot of travel to their week. Plus, Sylvie and Jorie will miss their friends. They’re not likely to uproot themselves to join a new team.
“Can you call her now? Please?” Cami says.
Danika sticks her tongue out at Cami, but picks up her mobile. Bella has already asked if they can go. Done deed then. They arrange to meet at the RSPCA in Oakleigh at eleven, and then have lunch together after.
Cami’s team wins their match, and Cami is one of the goal scorers, with a surprisingly fierce shot from just inside the penalty box.
Danika cheers and laughs as Cami’s teammates surround her to hug her.
It seems girls’ soccer is a supportive place, which is a good thing.
Certainly, it’s better than her own memories of school hockey and netball, and the ultra-competitive nature of the teams.
They’re first to arrive at the shelter, but five minutes later, Kim’s Subaru pulls up in the car park.
Bella jumps out. “We won! And I scored!” she shouts to Cami, who goes running over.
“So did we, and I scored too!” The sisters hug each other and jump up and down.
Kim comes over, sunglasses shading her face. “Will we be watching them in the Young Matildas in a few years?” She grimaces and removes her sunnies. “The time on soccer pitches is enough now, let alone if they really get serious.”
Danika laughs. She hasn’t seen Kim since the meeting in Alan’s office, and it’s good to simply watch her expressive face, see the wispy braid she always has, and her old t-shirt slipping down over one shoulder.
The revealed bra strap is chocolate brown, just as it was that night when Danika got to see Kim remove it. She swallows hard in memory.
Cami and Bella are already at the gate, and as Danika and Kim approach, Danika hears the volunteer explaining they can’t come in without a parent.
“We’re here,” Kim says.
The volunteer smiles. “I’m glad. Too many kids have come in alone and tried to leave with a dog. That never ends well. Are these two your daughters?” Her glance encompasses Danika.
With a small jolt, Danika realises the volunteer assumes she and Kim are a couple—most likely because Cami and Bella are so obviously sisters. The mistake, though, feels…good.
“They are.” Danika smiles. “But we’re mostly just looking today. You’re our first stop on the puppy trail.”
The volunteer gives a half-smile. “If you’re after a young dog, you may be disappointed. We only have a couple of puppies at the moment. Most are senior dogs.” Her mouth falls. “They’re lovely, perfect for a family, but they’re so much harder to place.”
“We’ll take a look anyway,” Danika says.
The noise is deafening—a constant cacophony of barking. Dogs of all types are in individual wire runs. Some pant at the front, tails wagging, desperate for attention. Others hide under blankets, with only a nose or twitching tail visible.
Danika’s heart clenches. This was a bad, bad idea.
Already she wants to take all of them home, give them love, show them a world that is better.
That although their families may have surrendered them, or they simply got lost one day and couldn’t find their way home, there are still people who will love them.
She looks across at Cami. She appears to be on the verge of tears, and Bella is holding her hand tightly as the two of them look into a cage holding a small terrier who’s leaping up and down at the wire and whining.
“Oh,” Kim says. “The poor dogs.”
Another volunteer approaches them. “Are you looking for any particular type of dog?”
“This is our first visit,” Danika says. “But something on the smaller size, energetic, kid-friendly.”
“The terrier your daughters are looking at is a lovely boy,” the volunteer, whose name tag reads Archie says.
“He’s about six, and he previously lived with a family.
They had to surrender him when they moved into a rental that didn’t allow dogs.
” Archie looks over to where the girls are crouched, talking to the terrier.
“Do you want to meet him out of the cage?”
“It’s probably a bit early for that,” Danika says. “We were hoping for a younger dog.”
“No worries. Keep looking.” Archie smiles. “Come find me if there’s any of our good doggos you’re interested in.”
They move on down the line. There’s a wolfhound standing dejectedly at the back of the run, skinny tail drooping, coat matted. A sign on the cage says he’s only just arrived, and he will receive love and veterinary attention over the coming days.
A pair of poodle-crosses catches Danika’s attention. They look young, and seem happier than many of the other dogs, but a sign says they are to be adopted together.
She and Kim catch up with the girls. Cami slips her hand in Danika’s. “They’re all so sad,” she whispers. “It’s not their fault.”
Bella, too, is holding Kim’s hand.
They walk on, leaving the dogs and entering the cat area.
These aren’t as heartbreaking as the dogs, and Bella holds a rag-doll kitten that she immediately falls in love with.
It’s a sweet little thing, with a creamy coat and brown points, and it nuzzles its head under Bella’s chin as she and Cami stroke it.
They walk back out through the dog runs, braving the noise and the desperation once more.
Cami stops at a run where a golden-coloured dog stands motionless in the corner.
His tail droops, but his eyes are bright.
When Cami crouches, he walks over cautiously and pushes his nose against the wire. Cami talks to him, and his tail wags.
Archie appears again. “That’s Hugo. He arrived only the other day, and we don’t have much information about him. He was living rough at Caloola Reserve. No microchip, of course.”
“He’s lovely,” Cami says.
“He’s a senior, about nine, the vet thinks.” Archie looks over at Danika. “Your daughter seems to like him.”
“She loves any animal,” Danika says. “Even her hobby horse.”
Archie grins. “My granddaughter does too. Enters it in jumping competitions, wins ribbons just as if it were a real horse.”
“Don’t tell our daughters that,” Kim says. “We’ve enough to do on weekends.”
Cami is eventually persuaded to leave, and they walk back out to the carpark.
Cami is quiet as they drive along Springvale Road. When they park in a busy area, she doesn’t even join the debate about kebabs or Vietnamese food for lunch. Vietnamese wins the vote, and they go into a café with Formica tables and a five-page menu.
“We can look at more dogs next week,” Danika says. “Maybe see if there are any breeders with puppies.”
“I liked Hugo,” Cami says. “He liked me, too.”
“He’s an older dog, sweetie.” Danika flicks through the menu. “How about vermicelli with pork balls?”
“Okay,” Cami says.
Bella adds a more enthusiastic agreement.
After lunch, Cami and Bella want to go to the park. Kim and Danika sit at one of the picnic tables in the shade while the kids play on the swings, seeing who can swing the highest.
Kim straddles the bench facing Danika and, hidden by the table, takes her hand. “As much as I love our girls, I wish it were just us right now. I want to kiss you so much.”
Danika melts. The purr in Kim’s voice tells her she wants to do so much more than just kiss. An ice-cream van tinkles its tune from the road across the park. Danika arches an eyebrow. “We could send them off for ice cream.”
Kim stands. “Who wants ice cream?”
“Yeah!” Bella and Cami come running. Kim hands them ten dollars and tells them to hold hands and walk, not run, to the van. “We can still see you.”
The girls giggle, but they’re not going to jeopardise their chances of ice cream cones with flake and sprinkles, so they walk off decorously to the van.
“Well?” Kim’s grin is pure mischief.
In answer, Danika stands and tugs Kim behind a tree. She can still see the kids walking toward the van. She wraps her arms around Kim, sighing as Kim shuffles closer.
Danika’s not sure who initiates the kiss, but one minute they’re close, the next they’re falling into each other, a deep kiss that grows like a bushfire. Kim’s lips tease Danika’s nerve endings, sparking pathways through her body.
She’s lost. She forgets they’re in a public park, forgets their daughters will no doubt come running back any second clutching ice cream, forgets she and Kim are neck-deep in legal issues that still have the potential to explode in their faces. All she wants is for Kim to keep kissing her.
Kim breaks the kiss, turns her head. “They’re on their way back.” With a final soft kiss to Danika’s lips, she steps away, around the tree.
By the time the girls return, tongues pink and blue from the sprinkles, sticky fingers clutching soggy cones, Danika and Kim are once again facing each other on the bench, as if they’re simply swapping cookie recipes, or whatever the kids assume they do.
As they walk back to their cars and say their goodbyes, Danika touches Kim’s cheek. “See you soon.”