New neighbors Andi and Hayden don't get off to the best start - and neither do their dogs. When the hostility between their pets, Bart and Rosie, leads to noisy barking, Andi and Hayden must solve their pet's tension or risk eviction from their apar...
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"That doesn't go there!" I lurch forward, grabbing the piece of Teddy's groin that Hayden positioned as his ear. My frantic shout ricochets off his walls, jolting Rosie, lying on the other side of the room, from her donut chew-toy. Across the hall, even Cynthia could've heard.
Even after a few sips of wine (the maximum I'll have pre-surgery), my nerves dance on edge. What I hoped would take the edge off didn't do a thing. Little lightning bolts electrify every inch of my body. Small, easily fixable tasks have consistently whirred me into a frenzy—when Hayden placed Teddy's hand as his foot, his stomach upside down, or situated the eye scrap two inches too high.
And we're only in the puzzle-piecing stage. Hayden hasn't even touched the sharp needle or sewing machine on the tray.
I wince, re-glancing at the thoughtful materials he laid out. Hayden's being great. The expensive wine on the kitchen counter (placed there because I wasn't about to let spillable liquid in our workspace) catches my eye, and my guilt grows. He's helping, let me have what might be the tastiest wine I've ever had, and, at my request, has refrained from personally drinking, and he won't until surgery concludes—until post-op.
"I shouldn't—I'm sorry." I place Teddy's groin where it's supposed to go, right at the hem of the crotch. Softening my shoulders, I exhale, attempting to lighten the mood. "A crotch as an ear?" I raise an eyebrow. "Where'd you get your medical license?"
Hayden's lips tug, a chuckle slipping out. He hasn't minded my outbursts. From across the table, his body's been calm, a subtle grin resting on his lips—like he's going along for the ride. "Same place you got your paddle boarding license." He shakes his head, grabbing another body part from our dwindling parts pile.
Due to their size, the larger parts weren't hard to connect. Pieces of the legs, mouth, and arms spread as the framework of our puzzle—the corner pieces, if you will. We created two 2D frameworks of fabric, one for Teddy's back and one for his front. We're almost done, but the smaller pieces proved challenging. All the same dark shade of brown and showing no identifying marks, we've had trial and error.
I attempt a half-hearted smile, grabbing another scrappy piece. "Well, a faulty bodily placement license is no big deal, but I do hope your surgery license comes from a more reputable establishment?"
"Oh, it does. I got that one at the same place you got your heel stomping degree." Hayden lines up a scrap of fabric, raising his gaze to mine. "So we have indisputable proof that they only churn out top-notch talent. I'm surprised I never saw you on campus?"
Trying not to smile too hard, I glance down, sweeping a scrap of fabric across my fingers. "You must've been busy with your ridiculous-dog-clothing minor."
"That must've been it." Hayden laughs, grabbing the last piece from our pile.
I don't laugh, but I widen my smile, trying to sink into the lightness of the conversation. Rolling my shoulders, I reach forward. There are only two open spots on the puzzle of Teddy, so the last parts should be easy to place.
