“Eventually, I grew out of my need for Foxy. When I was 23, I finally said goodbye and, with one last hug, placed her in a box of old stuff bound for the dump.”
“Right,” David said with a gleam in his sky-blue eyes. “So then you won’t mind if I—”
“Don’t you touch Cecil,” I said. “You lay one hand on that hamster’s head and I swear to God you’ll need a lot more than your precious old teddy to comfort you.”
David adjusted his features into an eloquent smile and for the moment found solace in a sip of wine.