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“Don’t think I didn’t hear the emphasis on new, smarty fuzz butt. Christmas was two months ago, and we don’t celebrate Valentine’s Day.” I sighed over Clay’s sharply indrawn breath. “What? We wait until the day after then stock up on cheap chocolate and cute plushies. We’re not total heathens.”
Asa proved it when he strolled out wearing a magazine-spread-worthy suit cobbled together from their limited selection. Meanwhile, in my element, I had hit the sales rack only to discover several key pieces of my existing wardrobe marked as clearance. As if they had gone out of style. Pfft. Cheap never goes out of style.
“It’s all right, Dollface.” He kissed the top of my head. “You can cry all you want. It’s good for you.” “I hate crying.” I shoved away from him. “I hate feelings.” “Feelings hate you too.” He ruffled my hair like a big brother. “That’s why they’ve ganged up on you.” “I want to punch them all in their touchy-feely faces.” “I know you do.” He tweaked my chin. “You know what will make you feel better?” Like a lady, I sniffed and wiped tears and snot on my shirt. “Punching someone else in the face?”