My Boyfriends' Dogs by Dandi Daley Mackall Read Free Book Online

table?” Went asked, backing out of the van.
    â€œI sure hope you didn’t scuff it,” Mom said.
    Went let go fast and stared at the table. “Wow. I’m sorry if I—”
    â€œShe’s kidding, Went,” I explained. “Have you gotten a good look at that table? It’s all scuffs.”
    â€œYeah,” Mom said. “How on earth did you manage to scuff up the whole thing in such a short time?”
    Went’s grin was a match for Mom’s. “It’s a family secret.” He stuck out his hand. “Went Smith.”
    Mom shook his hand. “I know.”
    â€œAnd you’re Bailey’s sister?”
    I rolled my eyes. “Sorry, Went. She gets that all the time.”
    â€œBut it never gets old,” Mom admitted.
    â€œApparently, neither do you.”
    Mom laughed. “Where did you find this boy, Bailey? Honestly, my daughter has been bringing home strays her whole life.”
    As if on cue, Adam barked from inside the van.
    â€œAdam?” I ran to the little dog’s rescue. Somehow he must have jumped inside while we were rescuing Mom. I picked him up, and he licked me in great thanksgiving. “Poor baby,” I murmured. “Mom, this is Adam. I’ve known Adam longer than I’ve known Went.”
    â€œThat long?” she quipped. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m starving. Went, would you like to stay for dinner? What do you think, Bailey? Pepperoni and extra cheese?”
    I could have hugged Mom for inviting my brand-new boyfriend to dinner. This is how it was meant to be. My boyfriend and I, my boyfriend’s dog, and my mom, all having dinner together. “What do you like on your pizza, Went?”
    His cell phone rang.
    â€œFancy California boy,” Mom commented when Went pulled out a slimline iPhone with enough bells and whistles to launch satellites.
    My old-fashioned cell had three more weeks of probation remaining from the cruel and unusual punishment meted out by my equally old-fashioned mother, simply because the poor, hard-working cell phone had put in overtime—about one thousand minutes of overtime. Our phone bill, said my mother, the only witness and the hanging judge, equaled the national debt of half a dozen Third World countries. Man, I missed my phone.
    â€œOkay.” Went said this loud enough into the phone to bring me back to the present. “I said I’d be there. Yeah. . . . Soon as I can, Dad.” He slid it back into his pocket.
    Mom closed her eyes and touched her forehead like she was getting a vision. “Wait, wait. I see an angry father wondering where his wandering son is. I see two women—who look like sisters instead of mother and daughter—eating a whole pizza by themselves.” She opened her eyes.
    â€œSorry. Dad wants us to have dinner together. Thanks for the pizza offer, though. And the séance.”
    â€œAnytime,” Mom said.
    â€œWant me to walk with you?” I volunteered. I couldn’t have cared less that his place was at least a mile away. I would gladly have forgone pizza and walked with him to the top of Mount Everest.
    â€œI think I better run,” he said.
    â€œNeed a lift?” Mom asked.
    â€œAlmost forgot.” Went rushed to the battered table. “Speaking of lifts, where can I put this? ”
    â€œWe can get it, Went,” I assured him.
    â€œNo problem.” He lifted that big table as if it were a surf-board. “Just show me where you want it.”
    Mom hopped to the driver’s side of the van and poked the garage door opener. The garage door lifted, revealing piles and piles of furniture.
    Went didn’t even make fun of the mess. He dashed straight for one of the few openings and set down the table. When he came out, he brushed his hands together. “If you want to refinish it, I’d be glad to help.”
    â€œYou’re kidding,” Mom said. She turned to me.