Lily had also always wanted a dog. She was only five years old when she forced her nanny to make a PowerPoint presentation about how much their family would benefit from a puppy. She’d picked the pictures and the animations and was extremely proud of it. Her parents weren’t so impressed when they were met by an exhilarated Lily at the door after a 14-hour flight. She was struggling to hold the laptop up, but her little fingers pressed the keys with rehearsed efficiency as she recited her speech. Once she broke out into song, Tashi had to put an end to it. That night, they had one of their big-girl talks. Lily listened with wide eyes as her mom explained how it was irresponsible for them to get a puppy when they traveled so much. The girl was too smart to deny that her logic made sense, but that didn’t stop a small, adorable pout from appearing on her face. That’s one of the main reasons Art wasn’t allowed to be present at this conversation. Had it been up to him, Lily would have a kennel and a half. But Tashi wouldn’t have it. So Lily got another plushy and a day at the zoo with her parents.

And with time, as her features grew more similar to her dad’s and her personality to her mom’s, Lily began dreaming bigger. She had many ideas, hopes, and plans. She thought about puppies less and less often. With school starting, she had so many books to read and so many pictures to draw.

She was now 7, and the hopeless dreams of owning a dog were long forgotten. Perhaps she had inherited her mother’s pragmatism or her father’s pessimism. It didn’t really matter. She was entirely over it, like any big girl could be.

It was an hour past her bedtime. The nanny was getting sick of reading stories, bringing water, and fluffing pillows. But Lily just wasn’t tired. How could she be sleeping when Mom and Dad were coming home soon? Her tiny ears picked up the soft purring of a car engine somewhere outside. Her eyes widened as a bright smile split her face. She almost ran into her babysitter and knocked down the mug of warm milk with honey that the woman was carrying. Loud pats echoed on the cold wooden floor, contrasting with the oppressive silence of the past two weeks since her parents had left. She stood at the door, chest heaving, big brown eyes gleaming with excitement.

The heavy door was soon pushed open by her father. The crisp night air hit Lily, and she shuddered. Dad froze with a slightly uneasy expression on his face, which was concerning, given the fact that he had just won the US Open. Lily had seen that with her own two eyes. She had kissed the TV, screamed, and jumped, while her grandma blew a whistle and clapped. But now he looked tense. She heard her mom let out a huff, then saw her poke her head inside, as if frustrated that Dad was too slow. She froze too. Tashi. Her mother, her rock, the ever-so-calm-and-collected Tashi Duncan was now nervous. They clearly hadn’t expected to see her there. But they should’ve known better. It’s Lily Donaldson we are talking about. 

Her tiny brows furrowed when she heard heavy breathing that was so very inhuman. Tashi let out a soft sigh of defeat and pushed the door open to reveal a scrawny dog. And a… scruffy man. That Patrick guy her dad had beaten in New Rochelle last month. She remembered Dad’s face after that match—something hadn’t been right, even then. But no one had ever explained. Mom and Dad had gone back to being funny and nice. And Lily had written it off as a result of the win.

Patrick’s expression was the calmest, as if he had expected to see Lily there. His hand dropped from her dad’s back and dipped into his pocket. She saw the way his eyes drifted between her parents’ backs with an *I told ya* type of glimmer in them, almost condescending. Mom and Dad shared a brief glance, out of their element for some odd reason. What had happened in New York? 

Wait… a dog? For a split second, her dream of a fluffy puppy flickered in her mind, but this thing? It smelled. And its fur was patchy. She almost fell for it. Keyword: almost. Her tiny arms crossed, and she gave the three of them a look that was a carbon copy of Tashi’s unamused expression.

“Are you having a new baby?” she asked, shamelessly. She had never been one to beat around the bush. Like mother, like daughter.

Taken aback, Art opened and closed his mouth. He was already fidgeting with the keys in his hand. She could see him swallowing thickly. The new guy was holding back a smirk and twisting the dog’s leash once more around his wrist. He had this weird air to him. Way too confident. Yet there was a glimmer of fondness in his eyes. He seemed to observe Lily with a mixture of amusement and true curiosity. Tashi knelt down to her level and shook her head.

“No, Lily bear, we’re not having a new ba—” Before she could continue with her rushed but shaky explanation, Lily interrupted her.

“Then what’s this?” A tiny finger pointed toward the big but skinny dog that had its nose deep in the nanny’s shoes by their doorway and was leaking a certain... smell. “Are you trying to get me to like you?” she said with impressive conviction. She wasn’t wrong per se. “Why would I not like you if you’re not having a new baby?”

Tashi looked down for a second, composing herself. Art was rubbing his neck anxiously.

“This is Rex, Patrick’s dog.” The singular wrinkle on her mom’s forehead was concerning Lily. She never had that unless something had happened. She would wait for an explanation first. Surely there was one...

“Rex?” Her tiny forehead creased, eyebrows furrowing. She had never been the patient type. Got it from her dad. “What’s it doing here? What’s he doing here? That’s the New Rochelle guy, isn’t it?” she said quickly, her lisp coming out once again. There went a year of speech therapy.

Tashi stuttered briefly. She almost corrected her lisp, but then she held back. 

“Well, yes. Patrick is staying with us for a while. Do you mind?”

Tashi’s voice had that slight edge, one that Lily knew all too well. She heard it when she hadn’t done her homework, or set her plate in the sink, or had left her easel in the living room. When she had made Mom irritated, but not angry. Yet the usual sternness was not present in her expression. Her eyes were ever so slightly wider, and she was holding onto Lily’s arms in a very strange way. Almost as if she were nervous. As if she were trying to get Lily to drop the entire subject, to rein in her curiosity. Her bottom lip jutted forward. But there was definitely more to the Patrick thing. The little girl’s eyes drifted between the three of them for a few seconds. She wanted to protest, to ask her questions, to get answers. But she decided to spare them the trouble. At least for tonight. She would be dreaming about it probably, or spending all night making up explanations in her head. The girl had never been able to just forget about peculiarities. But Mom and Dad looked tired. She freed herself from her mom’s hold and went to briefly hug her dad’s legs.

“Good job, Daddy.” He stared down at her, stiff and dumbfounded by her nonchalance, managing to only pat her back twice. With the corner of her eye she could see Mom glancing briefly at the new guy. Lily then pulled away and started dragging her feet toward the stairwell.

Her parents were frozen in their places, the Patrick guy was leaning against the doorframe, a smug expression on his face, and the weird dog had attacked the umbrella holder next. Lily rubbed her eyes.

“I’m going to bed. You guys are extra weird.” Before disappearing on the second floor, she mumbled, “I wanted a puppy. This thing smells.”