The cowboy and the mutt.

“No, you’re supposed to be my voice of reason.” I panted as I stepped away from the punching bag and sat on the fake grass carpet of the gym, resting my head on the wall behind me. I could feel my good hand begin to throb from the exertion. “Where’s the ‘you think you should tell him about the pregnancy’ or the ‘there’s no way he’s getting married, you’re blowing it out of proportion’. I get nothing from you.”

Hannah abandoned the punching bag and came to join me on the floor. “The way I see it, you had a sucktastic day yesterday; you just need to vent today; we can worry about logic tomorrow. Besides, do you actually want me to start on the pregnancy issue again?”

“No.”

“Good, how’s the morning sickness?”

“Gone.” Thank you, God. I still hated mangoes though but would not barf after I got a whiff of them. What a sad life.

“And how do you feel now? Are we still angry at article writers around the world?”

I smiled. “Only a little bit.”

In truth, I wasn’t angry at the article, Isabel, o