Maggie #3
“Did you just try to give my dad a treat?” Ivy asks.
That does it. Jules turns away completely, trying to contain his laughter.
I press my lips together so hard it hurts. “No, honey.”
She studies Alexei, then me, working it out with the full seriousness only a six-year-old can manage. “Because he’s not a dog,” she says. “He doesn’t chew shoes.”
Alexei lets out a low, brief sound, not quite a laugh, but close enough to count.
I make the mistake of looking up. His expression hasn’t changed much. He’s still composed and unreadable at first glance. But the corner of his mouth lifts just enough to tell me he’s not unaffected, which is, somehow, worse.
“Noted,” he says.
Behind me, Jules chokes into his fist. “Of course it is.”
I straighten, brushing my hands on my jeans like I can recover from this with dignity. “Well. Good. That’s… good.”
I gesture vaguely toward the next kennel like I didn’t just try to hand an insanely handsome man a dog biscuit. “This way.”
Jules mutters under his breath, “I am never lettin’ you forget this.”
“I hate you,” I whisper.
“Mm-hm.” And I know, without a doubt, this is going to follow me for the rest of my natural life.
It takes another ten minutes for me to recover enough to function like a sane adult again. By then, we’ve reached the side yard, where Daisy comes out on a leash and walks right to Ivy.
Spring in Savannah has a way of making even old brick and chain-link look charming. Azaleas bloom pink beyond the fence. The air smells like warm dirt, fresh grass, and a hint of river from downtown. Somewhere across the street, a mockingbird is putting on an entire Broadway show by itself.
Ivy holds Daisy’s leash with both hands while I keep my own around the older dog’s harness. Daisy leans into the little girl’s leg and stands there, content as could be.
“Oh,” Ivy whispers.
“She likes her,” I say quietly.
“Yes,” Alexei responds.
I look over at him. “You sound surprised.”
“I’m careful,” he says.
There’s more behind those two words than he says, and that’s enough for me to let it go.
Ivy strokes Daisy’s ears. “Can we take her home?”
Alexei crouches in front of her, suit pants and all, with no concern for the grass. “A dog is work, solnyshko.” Sunshine.
Ivy’s mouth turns down. “I know.”
Alexei looks at her, his expression warming a fraction. “You like the fun part. You don’t know yet if you can do the rest every day.”
“I can.” She lifts her chin a little, like she needs him to believe her.
“Can you feed her every morning?” he asks.
“Yes.” She nods quickly, her fingers tightening around the leash.
“Walk her even if it rains?”
“Yes.” Quieter this time, but she doesn’t look away.
“Help clean up after her if she gets sick or has an accident?”
Ivy hesitates, her grip loosening just enough for the leash to slip in her hand. She glances down at Daisy, then back up at him, like she’s trying to decide if she can be brave enough to say yes again.
That hesitation tells me more than all her eagerness.
Alexei doesn’t push. He only waits.
Finally, she says, “Maybe.”
He brushes a curl back from her forehead. The touch is brief and gentle, making my chest tighten for no good reason.
“Then maybe we’re not ready today.”
Her eyes fill at once, though no tears fall. It’s obvious she loves him, trusts him, and knows when he means what he says.
I crouch beside Daisy and look at Ivy. “Hey now. This doesn’t have to be a no forever.”
She looks at me, hopeful and wounded all at once. “It doesn’t?”
I glance at Alexei before answering. “Dogs are a big promise. Your daddy’s right about that. But there are lots of ways to learn.”
Jules, leaning against the fence with his coffee now watery from melted ice, catches on immediately. “Volunteer lessons,” he says. “We offer those free with every dramatic sigh.”
Ivy wipes under one eye with the heel of her hand. “Volunteer lessons?”
I nod. “You could come visit. Help me walk dogs. Fill water bowls. Learn who likes what. Then when your daddy thinks you’re ready, you’ll already know a whole lot.”
She whirls to Alexei so fast that Daisy startles. “Please?”
He stands slowly, his eyes moving from his daughter to me to Jules and back again. I can almost see him running through the risk, routine, schedule, all of it.
“Once a week,” Ivy says, clasping her hands. “Please, Papa. I can help. I’ll be good.”
Jules murmurs, “She has weaponized manners. Respect.”
Alexei ignores him. Instead, he looks at me. “Would that be alright with you?”
The question surprises me more than it should. Men like him, at least the men I’ve seen with money and places at every board table in this city, tend to assume space will open for them because they arrived. But he asks.
“Of course,” I say. “We’d be happy to have her.”
He keeps his eyes on me, and for some reason, I feel like I’ve just been picked for a test I didn’t prepare for.
Then he nods once. “Very well. We’ll come back.”
Ivy lets out a squeal and throws her arms around Daisy’s neck so fast I have to help keep the old girl balanced. Daisy licks her cheek. Crisis averted for now.