"You know, that color really brings out the blush in your complexion," I say to the lady in periwinkle as we sit poolside in formal wear, sipping hibiscus lemonade and listening to an arrangement of romantic instrumentals I've had made for the occasion. I straighten the red velvet tie of my tux as I take a gander at her plunging neckline."But, don't you think it's a bit revealing for a first date? I mean, this guy's a real rat."

She snorts at me. Of course she does. She's a real pig.

"Hey Phoebe," I call out. "Is Chester almost ready? His date is getting impatient out here." His date, Henrietta—whose hog high heels are sticking gopher-sized holes a la Caddyshack in the imitation lawn—is starting to take the shrubs up at the back of the dollhouse with her snout. I'm afraid the Pilates deck is next. I'm not sure how I got to be guardian of the hog, but here I am, sitting in a strawberry shaped chair three sizes too small for my ass, holding Henrietta on a rhinestone studded leash while we wait for Chester and Phoebe to get done in her dressing room. It's been a long wait. And, like I find when I'm forced to talk to Tilly, after a few minutes you run out of conversation with a pig in a dress.

"Don't drink out of the pool!" I say to Henrietta as she sticks her snout in the water. I pull her leash to keep her back. "I think Chester pees in there."

The whole place is decked out with heart shaped balloons, pink and white roses and flickering lightbulbs that look like candles—no way, no how would I allow the real thing to burn in here with this zoo in love on the loose. I've had the event catered by The Mile High Club. When they asked me dietary restrictions for the occasion, I answered pork because of the lady's family concerns. They asked if she was kosher and I had to tell them no, that it actually could be a concern that a family member of hers may be on the menu. But, they know who they're talking to, so they don't ask any questions. Chef Leopoldo designed the vegetarian spread that's set on Phoebe's daffodil tea table with the finest linens and china and crystal. We're seated next to the Barbie jacuzzi, so once the non-alcoholic bubbling grape juice kicks in Chester can get his date all hot and bothered in the bubbles of the hot tub. Although, at best I'm not sure she'll fit and at worst I'm afraid she'll sit on him and drown him.

"I'm getting his socks and shoes on," Phoebe calls out. "The little penny fell out of one of his loafers." The little penny must be the size of an ant shit. And I thought finding Barbie shoes was a pain. I'm surprised she doesn't have me on the floor with my iPhone flashlight, searching for his loose change.

"I'm sure she won't mind, she's missing a heel herself," I yell back after noticing the thing stuck in the lawn like some pig pink yard gnome. Henrietta's also missing panties. I can see this because her dress is hiked up around her waist, but I won't mention her missing unmentionables.

She's starting to walk inside the Barbie house now. I'm fearful she might make a hard turn and take out a floor. Or Chester's pool-house apartment. I know his waterbed wouldn't survive the collapse. And I don't want to be responsible for all that Gucci leather in his closet being ruined.

"Now, now, Henrietta." I tug her leash back, but she doesn't budge, so I reach over and try to pull her hind end with my hands and she immediately starts squealing like I'm some alley assaulter. "Sorry, cold hands." I pull them away.

"He's ready," Phoebe says, walking out, carrying the Don Juan furball himself, who's all decked out in a lilac, ruffled shirt Armani tux. I had to pay Giorgio extra, because ruffles and lilac are against his religion. Chester looks like a 70's gigolo who got lost on his way to buy his body weight in gold chains and cologne and ended up at an all night disco.

"Sorry we're late," she says. "Chester had to wash his hair so it wouldn't smell like where he goes poopy."

"That's the first thing I do before a hot date." I notice he's still got the pink dye on the old tuft up top, but it's more buzz military cut now. Has he been to the hairdresser, too? Franco probably came over and did it. It looks like his work. Ever since I've contracted him exclusively for my family, he's always trying to get his hands in someone's tresses for an extra dime.

Phoebe is all dolled up in the most adorable red velvet dress— that matches my tie—and ruby red patent Louboutin Mary Janes. Two diamond encrusted combs sweep her hair back on each side.

She's an angel.

"You are stunningly beautiful," I say, awed that something so perfect and pure and good is made of any of me. "I couldn't ask for a more lovely valentine than you." 

"Thank you, Daddy!" She throws her arms around my neck and gives me a kiss on the cheek. What did I ever do in life to deserve this? "I got you something."

"You did?" 

She nods. "But you gots to close your eyes so your eyeballs will be surprised."

"Okay." I close my eyes, hoping something isn't going to pop out at me. I tease her by trying to take a small peek and she puts both her hands over them.

"No peeks! Make like there's glue on your lashes."

I fear for a second if I don't do as I'm told she just might put it there. Her craft table is armed and ready.

"Okay, I'm sorry. No more peeking." I close them tight.

I can hear her rustling around. At least I think that's her. I hope it's not Henrietta eating lawn furniture.

"Okay, you could open them now."

I open my eyes to a card she's holding out that she's made for me. I recognize the glitter and macaroni adornment as a Phoebe Grey original. Though, this one is a little different than the usual. There's something large and misshapen made out of brown felt on top of what looks like a mammoth ash colored mountain.

"Is this Aspen?" I ask, pointing to the card.

"No. That's your head,"she points to big brown blob. "And that's your suit body," she points to the gray rock thing.

"This is me?" I ask and she nods. "Where's my face?"

"This is the behind of you. You're walking away from us."

"Why am I walking away?" Is this how she sees me? Walking out on my family and going to work in my suit? This is quite disturbing to me. In fact, it's devastating.

"You founded out some one of us needed something and you went to go do it, because you always do stuff for us when we need you to. We don't even gotta ask first."

I smile. That's just about the best explanation ever.

"It's true; I would do anything for you," I put my arm around her and pull her close to give her a kiss on the side of her head. "And your brother and your mom and the babies."

"I know, 'cause you're our Daddy." She shrugs, like it's the most normal thing in all the world—a dad who loves his family above all else. And my heart nearly bursts knowing that that's all she will ever know.

"See, there's your heart," she points to a pink glitter drawn heart that nearly takes up the entire card, but whose center is the gray rock that is my back. "But, your heart is so big it exploded out bigger than you and that's what you love us with." I smile. She has no idea she's telling this to a man who once told her mother he didn't have one at all. Maybe it was just too big for me to see it alone. "Read it. I made it to say what I wanted, but Mommy helped me spell the words."

"To my Daddy," I read aloud. "The man who's got the biggest, prettiest heart I know." I look down and see there's some smaller writing at the bottom that I read to myself: P.S. I think so, too, Ana xo. I touch my fingers to the paper and run them over the writing, then trace the heart with my forefinger.

"Why are your eyes making swimmer's pools, Daddy?"

I then look up into Phoebe's big blue eyes that are just like Ana's. She's right; I'm tearing up. Big, bad Christian Grey weeping over a valentine card. Maybe not so big and bad anymore. I smile.

"Because, like you said, my heart has so much love in it, it's gotta come out somewhere."

"You're crying love?"

"Yes."

She looks at me and then gently wipes my tears away with her sweet glitter covered fingers, literally replacing my weeping with her sparkles. I take her hand and kiss it. I was wrong to pose that question before; there is no possible way I've ever done anything good enough to deserve what I have. This is more than I would deserve in ten or twenty lifetimes of the work of a saint. There's that word again—more. A word Ana made real. The best word I've ever known.

"And Chester and me made you a present, too," she says as she scampers off to her desk to find something.

"Really? Chester? I didn't know you cared."

He stands on her shoulder and flashes his fangs and claws. His shirt's coming untucked and exposing a belly that's enjoyed one too many nachos lounging in the pool on the flamingo floaty.

"You're his favorite," she says as she grabs a box wrapped in kissing puppy dog paper and a silver ribbon that looks like a firework exploding on top.

"Really? He bites the ones he loves?"

"Well, he only really ever bites you."

"I'm touched, Chester. I always knew we had something special."

He chatters his teeth and makes some noises in his rodent squeak speak. He's probably telling me to sit and spin.

Phoebe hands me the little box and I open it up to find a large purple paper clip with four red velvet hearts hanging from it that have some fuzzy pink stuff glued on them.

"Oh, it's beautiful. How does this work?" Or rather, what is it? But, I don't want her to think I don't know.

"It's a clip for your tie so you could be more fancy at work."

"This is perfect; I need to be more fancy at the office."

"I know, because all you wear is colors that are like sad clouds."

"So, what do I need to do to be more sunny?"

"Well..." She thinks about this, scrunching her nose up like Ana does when she's trying to solve the problem that is me. "You need to get more pinks and purples and rainbow stripes in your life."

"Well then, this is just what I need," I say and she smiles. "Chester helped make this?"

"Yeah, 'cause I cut some of his pink fur off of his up top head and glued it on the hearts." Ahh, Chester fur, it's better than chinchilla. That explains the buzz cut. At least Franco's not going to bill me $275 for the job. "Franco helped to make it cuter on top his head, after he cut Mommy's and my hairs, though." I was wrong. I'm definitely getting the bill. "And he gave him a conditioner mask and oil from the other side of the whole world to shine-ify his all over hair and make it more pinker on his bangs." Well, there goes another hundred or five.

"You didn't have him do Boone while he was at it?"

"He says he doesn't know how to make feathers pretty, but he's gonna learn." I bet he is.

"Nice and shiny, Chester," I say as I turn and see his ass is facing me now. Typical. "I love my present, Phoebe! Thank you!"

"Welcome," she says.

I put the tie clip on at the part of my tie closest to my heart.

"And I have something for you," I say.

"Really?" She jumps up and down as I pull a gift out of my pocket.

"Of course. It's Valentine's Day, isn't it? Open it up." I hand it to her.

She opens the box to reveal a heart shaped locket lined in diamonds with a large ruby at the center. It's huge and the stones are flawless. She has no idea it cost more than most of her friend's houses. But, her eyes light up when she sees it, and that's enough for me. Always. The sparkle in her eyes is far more brilliant than that of the stones themselves.

"It's the prettiest neck-a-lace I ever sawed!" she says. "It's like one for a princess."

"You're right; that's because it's for you."

"Could you put it on me, so then I could never want to take it off ever forever?"

"Yes, and make sure you wear it around all those boys who gave you those cards and tell them something, okay?"

"What?"

"Glitter ain't diamonds."

She giggles. She thinks I'm kidding. I turn her around and place it around her neck, clasping it secure. She lifts it and holds it in her hands to examine it. "Now, look inside." I put my fingers around hers and help her open the locket as I lean over her shoulder and we both look at the picture that's beneath the jewels.

"Is that you, Daddy?" she points.

"Yes, and that's you." I point to the little baby in a pink blanket in my arms.

"It is?  But, I don't got no hair or open eyes."

"Yes, I know. It was taken the day you were born."

"I never knew I was ever so small."

"You were so tiny.  And beautiful. And you surprised us by coming early, the way you did..." Taylor took that snapshot right after Ana had her on that harrowing night. I thought I knew what I was doing and I was prepared because I went through it all with Teddy, but boy was I wrong. Scheduled C-section?—yeah, right. As everything with Phoebe, she calls the shots. Of course I was nervous and excited and loved them both with all of me, instantly. That was the same. But, a little girl is a different thing entirely for a father. Taylor, knowing first hand what little girls do to dads, told me right after this was taken that I would now understand what it means to be in a state of perpetual heart attack for the rest of my life. He was right. And I wouldn't trade it for anything.

"Is that what the babies will look like?" she asks.

"Yes, but they won't be you." I brush her hair back down onto her shoulders and adjust her combs. "There's only one you, just like there's only one Teddy."

"There's only one you, too, Daddy." She turns and smiles, wrapping her arms around my neck. "Daddy, even when I have four twin sisters, will you always be my Valentimes?"

"Always." And it's a promise made with my heart that's entirely too big to be contained in my body.

"Four twin sisters?" I ask. "That would be eight, wouldn't it?" Talk about heart attack. They'd name a new wing after me in the cardiac unit at Northwestern.  Not because I donated the most money; because I needed the most treatment.

She nods.

"We'll have to talk Mommy into that one."

All of a sudden there's a loud, high pitched squealing noise. It sounds like the wolves got Henrietta, but it's just Chester who launched himself onto her back claws first and used it as a stepping stool down from the table to the pool probably to look for some of those nachos he left behind.

"Hey, by the way," I say. "Where's Henrietta's person, Lucy?"

"Honey and Lulu's island."

"Who are Honey and Lulu?" Oh god, I hope not more pigs. I'm not overseeing Chester in a swine threesome.

"It's where people go on sandy vacation and wear grass and eat coconuts and go swim with the fishes that try to bite your toes, but not 'cause they're mean, just 'cause their lips do that." She sucks in her cheeks and makes fishy lips.

"Wait, do you mean Honolulu?"

She nods. "That's what I said, Daddy."

"How long is she gone for?"

"Two weeks."

"Two weeks? Where's Henrietta staying?" Why do I get the feeling I'll be sorry I asked.

"In her pink bed." She points to the corner of the room where her pig pen is all set up like Bucking-Ham Palace.

"She's staying here for two weeks?"

She nods. Shit, a rodent, a turkey and a pig all under one roof? It's like Jose, Kate and Elliot decided to set up camp. Actually, I take it back, it's not anywhere near as bad as that.

"Time for the date!" Phoebe says, throwing her arms in the air.

"So, do we all just take our seats and start on dinner?" I ask.

"You have to take Chester out so us girls can be getting beautiful and then be picked up for the date."

"Wait, we're already at the location of the date."

She shakes her head like "Dad, please."

"I was just sipping lemonade by the pool," I say. "The dinner is right over there." I point and see Chester's head poking out from his cabana at the mention of a meal.

She shakes her head again.

"That part is divisidable," she says.

"What does that mean?"

"You can't see the date until the magic fairy flies over top and shakes her dust over it."

"That's not like the glitter pooping unicorns, is it?"

"No. Unicorn poop is just pretty. It doesn't got big powers."

"When does this sprinkling of date magic happen?"

"You gotta go outside with Chester first." She picks up Chester from his cabana and puts him on my shoulder and the next thing I know we're out in the hall facing her closed door.

"Don't fucking bite me," I say to Chester who's sitting on my shoulder as we wait for Phoebe to give the okay for me to knock. I'm holding his sunflowers, his gift from Cartier that costs more than most engagement rings and whatever version the pet store found for me of pig "chocolates" in a heart shaped box. "I saved your ass, Chester. So, if you get laid tonight because of me, no biting for the rest of the year."

Of course he chooses that exact moment to take a hack out of my earlobe.

"Damn!" I mutter to myself and feel for missing flesh on my lobe.

"Mr. Grey, is everything all right?" Taylor asks as he catches me in the hall. Where the hell did he come from? He's always flying out from behind dark corners like some bat.

"Yes, fine. Why?" I rub my ear and look to see there's a drop of blood on my fingers. Fuck.

"You're staring at the closed door with the hamster in his tuxedo on your shoulder, carrying flowers and chocolates, sir." He left out the Cartier.

"And this looks odd to you?" I ask.

"Not anymore, sir" he smiles.

"Chester has a date," I say, motioning to the vermin, who's now investigating my collar to see if he should climb inside and go on a blood tasting tour of my whole fucking body. I feel like I should offer him cheese and grapes and a spit bucket to complete the experience.

"Yes, sir," Taylor says and continues on his way to do whatever the fuck he's doing. He's so damn delighted to see me like this. He never used to smile in the old days when he caught me outside the playroom. I guess that's the point. My definition of playroom has changed dramatically over the years. Instead of cats and flogging, I'm taking a rat to go hogging.

"Okay!" Phoebe yells out and I take that as my cue to knock.

"Good evening," Phoebe says, holding Henrietta on that leash as she opens the door. I think she put lipstick on her. And from the smell of it, sprayed her with some heavy Eau de Swinette. I recognize the scent from Back to School night. "So lovely that the Grey brothers could make it this even-ing."

"Elliot's here?" I ask and she motions with her head to Chester. Oh that's right; Chester's my brother.

"Yes, we're looking forward to the event."

"Oh look, Lady Henrietta, Count Chester brought you your favorite flowers." That's right we're Counts, too.

I hand the sunflowers to Phoebe and she shows Henrietta who sniffs, snorts and chomps the head off one whole. Hey, I had those imported off season!

"He also has candies and a present for you, Henrietta," she says and I hold them up and Phoebe takes them to show her.

"Don't let her snort around the Cartier," I say. She may take the whole thing down and I'll be stuck sifting through pig shit looking for rubies.

"Chester, your sports car is waiting for you to drive Henrietta to dinner," she says.

"Drive her? I thought we were here now," I say. Didn't I just ask this question? Why are we never at the location when we're at the location?

"We can't be at Chester's place if we're at Henrietta's." Duh, Dad.

"So what do we do now?"

She motions to the driveway where the Barbie R8 is parked.

"I thought that was Barbie's car."

"Yeah, but Chester lives with her some of the time and watches over her pool for sharks that might hide there and he makes sure her snacks aren't stoled, so she lets him drive her car if he wants to shop for clothes and stuff for his hair."

Chester's a regular Hollywood pool boy. Sort of the Kato Kaelin of rodents.

"Okay, Chester," I say. "Let's get you in your sugar mama's car and get this date on the road."

To prevent more of my bloodshed, Phoebe lifts him off my shoulder and puts him in the car and puts tiny Prada sunglasses on him. Once he's in the driver's seat I start to back the car down the long driveway and on my knees I push the thing down a roadway that Phoebe's mapped out with Legos.

"Better turn around and face the road, Chester," I say. He's practically crawling out the back end, with his own back end in the air.

"You wanna listen to some music?" I put on the Bose sound system in the car and Baby Got Back is on. Appropriate. 

"Look, Henrietta, he's got a sports car!" Phoebe says, all excited. "All the handsomest boys drive those."

"Don't be impressed with boys in fast cars," I say as I pull up to the green Lego curb in front of Henrietta's pen.

I open the passenger door for Henrietta and I try to lift the squealing thing to put her in, but it's painfully obviously to me and Chester's head under her ass-zilla that she's not going to fit in the car.

"What's wrong, Daddy?"

"Uh, nothing. Just readying the seat for her. She needs more leg room."

I don't want to dash Phoebe's vision of the dream date, or prolong the process, so I lean over to block Phoebe's view and have Henrietta trot beside as I pull her along. I think I just pulled an important groin muscle in the process.

As I drive the two lovebirds back to the dollhouse on bended knees, I get to thinking. When I envisioned my future as a young hotshot, I can honestly say I never thought I'd be a hand servant driver to a rodent. Is this what Taylor used to feel about life?

"The fairy sprinkling is happening!" Phoebe announces as I move the car back into the driveway and by royal decree the date is at hand. Fucking finally! I had to ignore what I saw around me so much I felt like a Mafia wife.

Chester and Henrietta are both lifted to their places at the table by Phoebe, but since Chester can't see anything from his chair, he's sat on his plate. I worry he might shit on his napkin, but he doesn't stay put long enough to put down a deposit on his real estate. He dives into the artisanal bread basket head first and goes to town on some seven grain.

"Have a roll, why don't you?" I say as I find myself seated in the strawberry chair again. I hope I have feeling in my ass before my date with Ana tonight. What I have planned requires a lot of ass muscle usage.

"Count Chester would like to offer you a drink of fancy bubble juice, Lady Henrietta," Phoebe says as she lifts the bottle of grape juice from the chilled bucket and pours it into her glass. It doesn't look like Chester is offering up anything but his back end from the bread basket. Men...

"There's dinner, too," I say, and Chester climbs out with a chunk of focaccia and heads back to home plate. I'm not sure who the bigger pig on this date is.

Henrietta must smell the goods, because she leaps up onto the table and snorts around for some crumbs, sucks up a ball of butter and then charges for Chester's plate and steals his bread right out from under him. I imagine a date with Tilly might go something like this.

"No, no, no, Henrietta," Phoebe says as she pulls her away and back to her seat, chunk of loaf still in her mouth. "It's not lady like to walk all over your date's dinner."

Chester's on his hind legs, hissing again as he tries to grab the bread back.

"Careful Chester," I say. "She's a lot bigger than you."

There's squealing and squeaking and Chester's jumping on his hind legs trying to snatch the dough from her jaw. Phoebe takes the bread away from both of them and puts them back in their seats, again, both disappointed and disillusioned at what's just transpired.

"Time for gifts, Phoebe says, in an attempt to lighten the mood. She picks up the Cartier box and shows it to Henrietta. "Count Chester bought this for you. He thinks you are the mostest beautifulist ever and he is in love you and wants to be married to you and have lotsa babies."

Chester's eyes nearly pop out of his head at the knowledge that his bachelor days are waning.

"No more days on the floaty when the babies come," I say to Chester and he squeaks some obscenities my way.

Henrietta snorts as Phoebe opens the gift for her and pulls out the pink leather ruby studded collar with a little jagged half of a heart charm dangling from it.

"Why is it all zig-zag and broken, Daddy?"

"Because Chester is supposed to wear the other one," I point to another much smaller blue collar that the other half of the heart dangles from. "See, when they come together," I push the hearts together as one. "They have a complete heart."

"It's like their love!" she says, excitedly.

"Exactly."

"Look, you both got jewels," Phoebe says to Henrietta as she puts it on her neck. "And when Chester puts his part into your part you got your love." Oh my god. I don't need to hear any talk about that.

Over the courses, the clothes come off. Chester lost his cummerbund in the tomato bisque, his jacket over his little caesar and his pants have nearly dropped on his noodles. His ruffled shirt is the only thing hanging on. That, and his loafers, shockingly. Hell, Henrietta's got one sleeve off, exposing four of her eight tits. The date hasn't even started yet and they're already taking it to obscene levels. I imagine if Kate and Elliot had actually spent time together before screwing, it might have gone something like this. Instead, it was all dance, dance, in your pants.

As the carrot cake dessert is served, I'm grateful that things have gone rather smoothly, considering. Aside from fighting over carbohydrates and a little hiss and growl, no one's pissed their area or bitten each other's face off. Again, different from Kate and Elliot.

"They haven't had their kiss," Phoebe says.

"They're only on their first date," I say, nearly choking on my eggplant.

"So?" she asks.

Oh my God. I'm in big trouble. I have horrific visions of me in the bushes at some fraternity party stopping Phoebe from lip locking with a toga jerk she just met over jungle juice and suggestive beats. And believe me, I'll be in the bushes all over her life. I may even set up bush camp at her college. Taylor and I will be a regular bushwhacking operation. And I know Taylor knows all about that.

"They're gonna get married, they gotta kiss," she says.

I sigh in relief. "You're right, you only kiss when you're getting married, after thirty, to a man your father approves of." Which is no one. Ever. I wonder how long I can get her to believe in that.

Phoebe picks Chester up and puts him next to Henrietta on her chair.

"Okay, kiss!" Phoebe says, making those fishy lips again.

There's an awkward silence in this pinnacle moment of our inter-species love story. They both just stare ahead. Of course, given that we're just watching them, waiting for something to happen, I can't really blame them.

"Why isn't he being romantical?" Phoebe asks.

"He's quite shorter than her," I say. "I don't think he can reach her lips."

"Don't short mans get romantical?"

"Not easily."

"He can jump real high, though," she says. Unless he's Michael Jordan with a slam dunk, I don't think lip action is going to happen tonight.

But Chester, being Chester, never ceases to surprise me. He knows his short comings and doesn't waste his time trying for first base. Instead he says fuck it to basketball analogies and decides he's going for home run king. In a lightning quick move, he hops up, wraps himself around her leg and starts to vigorously hump it.

Oh my god.

"What's he doing, Daddy?"

"Uhh... I think he's hugging her."

"Why is he bouncing up and down like that?"

"He's really excited." Please don't let his excitement show!

Henrietta is squealing now, but not in the way a man would prefer a woman to be squealing when he's in the act. I try to pull him away, but his limbs are locked around her like iron latches. He doesn't even try to bite me; he's too damn focused. There's no way he's letting go of his woman.

Henrietta doesn't feel the same about her man. She tries to shake him off her leg, running around her chair in circles, but he just won't let go.

"Maybe they're dancing," Phoebe says.

He's so fast and furious, all I can see are the ruffles on his shirt flying up and down and his half heart locket. It keeps flying up into his face, I'm surprised the metal doesn't knock him out.

"Yes, that's it. It's a Travolta number." He's taking Saturday Night Fever and Staying Alive to whole new levels.

I can't let this pet pornography continue. I move in to grab Henrietta. I figure I can hold her over the table and try to shake him off of her. But, just as I get her, she slips out of my hands and jumps up onto the table, with Chester still hanging on.

"Henrietta!" Phoebe says.

"Get back here!" I try to grab her as she runs across the china, her high heeled hooves flying through the feta and pesto fussili. The rodent rapist is still stuck to her thigh jack-hammering away. It's like he thinks he's at a porno rodeo.

"Daddy, do something! Chester can't hold on too long!"

"Trust me, I think he can."

I reach out and I've nearly got ahold of Henrietta's back end when she launches herself off the table, then runs across the grass and gardens of the dollhouse estate and with a flying leap belly flops into the pool. 

"Chester!" Phoebe cries out as we both run over to the water.

For a moment my heart stills when I can't see him and I fear he's been lost in the chlorinated waters. But, sure enough the furball floats up. He's finally let go of her leg and, looking rather happy with himself, swims over to that damn flamingo floaty of his, crawls on top and resumes eating his days old nacho.

"I know what Chester was doing," Phoebe says.

Gulp.

"You do?"

She nods. Kill me now.

"He just wanted for them to go for a swim together."

Thank God!

"Yes, Phoebe. I think you're right. He just wanted a quick dip in the pool."

At least I don't have to have this talk for another decade. Not the next one. The one when she's thirty and she's thinking about maybe kissing a guy that her father will never approve of.

Ana and Christian's Date next. Thanks for your patience! My other stories will be updated soon! xo