Trophy Husband by Lauren Blakely Page B

heard.”
    His face is stony. “I wasn’t joking.”
    Oh. That’s not going to fly. I think I’m
about to officially walk out on a date for the first time. Yep. I
definitely am.
    “Goodbye Steely Dan Duran. This girl dresses
herself.”
    * * *
    “So maybe I should call this off,” I tell
Hayden as I flop down on her couch after the cab drops me off, and
she lets me into her house.
    “Because of one bad date?”
    “Two bad dates. Dybdahl was a total
bust.”
    “Oh right. Good point,” she says as she
settles in next to me.
    “And to top it off, Todd now wants custody
of the dog.”
    “You’re not going to let him, are you?”
    “Of course not. But do I have a choice?”
    “Well, I’m a patent attorney, not a pet
attorney, but I’ll look into it for you,” she says. “Because that
is a cause I can totally get behind. Project Dog Custody.”
    I pull myself into a sitting position on her
couch. “And I thought you weren’t fond of pets,” I tease.
    “Not the ones that pee on my furniture. But
the good ones, like Ms. Pac-Man? Yeah, I’ll help you win this
battle, that’s for sure.”
    I glance at the couch and the cushion I’ve
been sitting on. “That’s not your way of telling me Chaucer peed
right here?”
    “No,” she says with a laugh.
    “So, um, Hayden. Do you think I should just
throw in the towel on the Trophy Husband thing?”
    She gives me a rueful smile. “McKenna, I
think you should do what makes you happy. Would it make you happy
to throw in the towel?”
    I shrug. I don’t have an answer. I don’t
know what makes me happy except for the dog. “I think I’m going to
go spend the rest of my night with my dog.”
    I head home and Ms. Pac-Man is so excited to
see me that I give her a kiss on her wet snout. She licks my cheek,
a big, sloppy dog kiss, and I love it. “There is no way I will let
anyone take you away from me,” I tell her, and I know she
understands. I know she wants to be with me. She loves me
unconditionally, and I love her the same.
    I pat the side of my leg, her cue to trot
along by my side as we head into my bedroom and over to the closet.
“Let’s look at clothes for tomorrow’s shoot, shall we?” I say to my
favorite creature.
    She sits down and watches me as I survey my
clothes, her eyes on me, her tail still wagging. I can’t resist. I
bend down to pet her once more. The dog is kind of my soulmate, and
maybe I will keep fighting the good fight. For her. I won’t let
Todd win. Not when he’s throwing punches so far below the belt.

Chapter Seven
    “So that makes me O-for-2 in the old Trophy
Husband date department, so you know what I did after being told I
should have my clothing approved? Call me crazy. Call me wild.” I
lean into the camera and stage whisper. “I went online and bought
myself some awesomely hot tops. Like this one!”
    Then I let Andy pan over my
shirt – a peach colored tee with ironed-on female superheroes like
Wonder Woman and Bat Girl. It says Ladies
Night on it. Then I share the shopping info
with viewers. “Oh, and one last thing. I am totally striking out in
the date department. I’m basically abysmal at dating. A total
dating dork. So I might have to call this whole thing off, my
fellow fashion hounds. Unless you can send some pretty young things
my way, this girl is going to have to be over and out.”
    I place my palms together in a plaintive
sort of plea, then we stop rolling, and I exhale. Being the Fashion
Hound requires my utmost focus on appearing upbeat, confident,
sassy and totally kickass tough. I am take-no-prisoners on camera.
But off-camera, I can be more of myself.
    Andy and I begin our usual wrap-up routine.
“How was it?”
    He gives a cursory thumbs up, and walks out
to his car, parked in front of my house. I follow him. He hasn’t
gotten over his little snit fit from last week, evidently.
    “Andy, can we get this sorted out please? I
hate fighting with you. Can we go have a cup of coffee or
something? Or