Separate names with a comma.
Her left hand brushed his side, a deep scar on her ring finger that she earned during a game years ago. Her fingers twitched, and her nose...
She nodded. "I will."
"I suppose it does, but I still want to call you my wife. I guess you don't want that."
Her breaths were quiet and soft, and her expression remained peaceful as a lock of hair fell in front of her face. The stillness made any scars a...
She nodded slowly, kneeling down again. "Arlo, could you get me a leash?"
"Marriage is just a ceremony, and wife is just a title. I'd say I should be able to call you my wife, yeah?"
She shifted slightly, her arms gently wrapping around his upper torso.
"I wasn't planning on it," Callie muttered. "Is there a crate or something?"
"My wife," he corrected, his eyes bright, "is a genius."
Her fingers gripped his shirt gently, and she easily nodded off into a light sleep.
Callie stood straight. "No. I want this one."
She would be able to hear his low chuckle before some shuffling.
She rested her head against his chest again, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she relaxed.
Callie crossed her arms. "I don't care. I'm taking him."
He rolled his eyes playfully. "Fine."
"I just want to hear your voice," she said softly. "I want to hear you sing, if that's alright."
"I want this one," she said firmly, her eyes as fierce as the dog's.
"I can get it if you'd like," he suggested. "I don't mind."
"Anything.. I like your voice."
Her eyes widened slightly as she watched the dog. "Well, I'd like to take him."
