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She is officially conspiring against her husband. In the most loving, well-researched, mildly chaotic way imaginable.
Well—she and Teddy.
Teddy, who is currently sat in the passenger seat like he owns it, tongue lolling out, tail thumping against the upholstery. His ears flop in opposite directions, his fur looks like it’s been styled by a blender, and his tongue has been out for five blocks and counting.
“Don’t get too cocky,” she says, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye—though, truth be told, her heart melted the second he jumped in and made himself at home in the seat next to hers. “You’re ridiculously cute, but I’m still risking hives for you. Well—mostly for my amazing husband who’s already halfway in love with you. But you catch my drift.”
Teddy sneezes into the air like a tiny cannon blast. Gloriously unapologetic. Like he gets it. Like he knows. Like he’s saying, I get it.
She sighs, smiling as she glances over at him. “My husband’s probably gonna cry the second he sees you. Poor guy’s been having a ruff time lately.” She pauses, then snorts. “Look at me—already making the kind of terrible dog jokes he lives for and would hate to miss. We’re off to a strong start, you and me.”
Bobby’s really had a rough couple of weeks though. Two structure fires, one that hit way too close for comfort.
Then an overdose that shook him more than he let on.
Then came the four-alarm blaze. He’d taken point, held it all together—but a rookie from another house nearly didn’t make it out. And Bobby, being Bobby, carried that like it was his own mistake. Like it was his to shoulder.
And that was the whole point of her doing this, wasn’t it? The past few weeks weighed on him like a firetruck parked on his shoulders. He was quiet. Quieter than usual.
And still, every evening without fault, he detoured past the shelter like it was some kind of balm—like just seeing that one scrappy mutt made the horrors bearable.
Athena had finally asked why he’d been coming home later than usual, and she’ll never forget the look on his face—like he got caught sneaking cookies from the jar—as he sheepishly admitted he’d been taking the long way home just to swing by the pound and see the dogs.
Then a few weeks ago, when this pooch showed up at the pound, Bobby had started coming home with a little smile and a new light in his eyes—especially on the days the staff let him spend a few minutes alone with the little guy.
Then it turned into him snapping a hundred photos on his phone every time he stopped by, like he was trying to collect memories—just in case the little guy found his forever home before Bobby got the chance to say goodbye.
He talked about Teddy all the time. Any chance he got, he’d tell her what the pup had been up to—some silly little trick, a new favorite toy, the “adventure” they had walking laps around the shelter yard. Like he couldn’t help but share every tiny moment.
The day the shelter staff let him take Teddy out on a leash—outside the gates, for a whole hour—he came home glowing. It had been a tough day, he told her so via text. But that night, he walked through the door with takeout, absolutely beaming, like just that one hour had made the whole world a little lighter. Well, his words, not hers.
At first, she’d called him Hoover 2.0 in her head when Bobby started talking about the dog. A quiet little joke just for herself. But the truth was, it didn’t feel funny. Not really.
Because every time Bobby mentioned Hoover—his smile a little wistful, voice going soft like he was remembering an old friend—it cracked her heart a little more.
And what gutted her most was knowing she was the reason Hoover couldn’t stay. That she’d been the one thing standing between her husband and a dog he’d already loved like family.
She loved Hoover, too. But her sinuses? They revolted.
Then the hives, the sneezes, the constant wheezing like she had run a marathon with a head cold.
And Bobby—her sweet and wonderful husband—never once complained when they had to let Hoover go and live in another home. Said, “You come first.” Meant it.
And yet, every time he passed that shelter on the way home, she could hear everything he wasn’t saying.
And every time he showed her another photo of Teddy, the name the shelter had given the little guy—her heart couldn’t decide whether to ache or melt. Usually, it did a bit of both.
So she did what any sane, emotionally compromised wife would do. She spent hours researching how she could make this possible.
Dog breeds. Allergen types. Fur length. Dander production. She went so deep into allergy forums, she could probably pass for a veterinarian or an allergist at this point.
Turns out, the mutt with the floppy ears was some kind of hypoallergenic poodle mix—at least according to the shelter’s website. Less dander than a regular old dog. Than Hoover.
Nothing a few regular baths, a good groomer, and some trusty HEPA filters couldn’t handle. Maybe the occasional allergy pill, just in case.
She’d be fine. She even spoke to an allergy specialist—just to be sure.
When Athena overheard Bobby telling Hen about Teddy last night at poker, showing off photos with a voice low and wistful, “I dunno, there’s just something about that dog…” she knew.
She knew. It was time. This was her moment to give something back—to do something for him.
And maybe, just maybe, surprise him so completely he’d burst into tears and call her his “miracle woman” or something equally dramatic.
So, after Bobby had gone to bed and fallen asleep, she quietly filled out the adoption form. Then this morning, she woke up to find him looking a little sad, and she could tell it was because
Teddy’s adoption had been marked as pending on the website.
She knew Teddy would be marked as pending, thanks to the email from the shelter. She still had some paperwork to take care of there, but she was already pre-approved. They were pre-approved.
What Bobby didn’t know as he pushed around the scrambled eggs in his plate was that Teddy wasn’t “pending”—he was already on his way home.
So she headed out early after breakfast to go and run the errands they usually tackled together on their day off, casually pretending she had a hair appointment. When Bobby offered to tag along—like he always did—she flashed him a smile and turned him down as sweetly as she could.
And by the time she pulls into their driveway, hours later, her stomach is doing full Olympic-level somersaults.
She runs a quick check—Teddy is still intact, adorable, and hasn’t peed on the seat.
Good.
Showtime.
“Alright, you little fluffball,” she murmurs, running her hand over his ridiculously soft coat. The lady at the shelter had mentioned he’d just had a bath and grooming before she showed up to take him home. “Time to go blow your daddy’s mind.”
She strolls in like it’s just any other day—except this time, she’s got a fluffy little sidekick trotting proudly beside her.
He hears the door, calls out from the kitchen, “I’m in here. And I just know you look beautiful, by the way.”
Right. She’s supposedly coming back from a hair appointment. Bobby sure knows how to cover his bases, telling her she looks beautiful without having seen her.
She saunters into the kitchen where Bobby’s at the sink, humming some old tune under his breath, completely oblivious to their new companion as he washes this morning’s dishes.
Athena clears her throat.
Bobby turns, towel in hand—spots her—then does a double take when he sees the furball at her side.
Teddy’s tail kicks into high gear the second he recognises the tall man who’s been so kind to him, tail wagging like a metronome chugging triple-shot espresso.
And Bobby? He freezes. Like someone hit pause on his entire soul.
His mouth falls open. The towel drops to the floor. Teddy cocks his head and lets out a small, curious woof.
“… Is that— God… Athena…” His voice cracks right on her name. His mouth drops open like he’s trying to catch flies, and his eyes? Already welling up.
She nods. “He’s yours. Ours.”
Bobby blinks. And again. And again. He drops to his knees without even thinking, and Teddy makes a beeline for him, tail wagging so furiously she’s a bit concerned it might fall off.
And then—her strong, stoic, beautiful husband starts crying.
Not the big, ugly sobs. No, these are the quiet kind. The ones that sneak up on you, hit you square in the chest, because you suddenly feel everything you’ve been holding back.
She drops to her knees beside him, looping her arms around both him and Teddy in one big, slightly awkward hug. Bobby leans into her like he’s finally letting himself breathe, dog in his lap and happy tears still on his cheeks.
Athena rubs his back in slow, easy circles—just like he’s done for her a million times—quietly holding him together while Teddy thumps his tail like a drum.
“I—I thought…” he tries.
“Okay… so... I owe you an apology. I might’ve bent the truth a little about my whereabouts for the day, but there was a very good reason for it.”
“But... wait, aren’t you— I thought... Hoover—”
Athena nods, now unable to stop smiling even as her own eyes start to well. “Teddy’s hypoallergenic—or close enough,” she says, caressing Teddy’s little ears. “I did my homework. Different kind of fur, less dander. As long as we keep him clean, stick to grooming every six weeks, and keep the house tidy—which we already do better than most—I’ll be fine. Even checked in with an allergist. Got myself some prescription meds, just in case. Covered all the bases, baby.”
Bobby nods, gently petting the dog and showering its little head with kisses over and over again.
Athena pets the dog too, her fingers brushing through its fur as she watches her husband, then glances back at him. She gently links her fingers with Bobby’s, both of them resting in the dog’s soft fur.
She takes a deep breath, making sure everything’s clear between them. “I spent all morning there,” she says softly. “Filling out the last of the paperwork, but also just... spending time with him. Because I already knew he was a good fit for us, but I wanted to make sure my allergies wouldn’t be a problem, and honestly... I had no issue at all. The ride home was smooth, too. I’m really not reacting to him… So yeah… He’s ours, Bobby.”
She sees it then—his eyes are glassy, and he's still smiling through tears that come too easily, like they’ve been waiting to fall.
“You did this for me?” he whispers, with the cutest little sniffle.
“For us,” she corrects gently. “But mostly for you. Because even the strongest man I know deserves someone who’ll lick his face and love him unconditionally—even on the days when everything feels a little too heavy.”
She pauses, narrowing her eyes. “And don’t you dare say I can lick your face too,” she adds, giving him a playful smack on the arm.
He lets out a watery giggle.
Teddy sneezes like punctuation.
Bobby lets out a wet, helpless chuckle and presses his forehead to hers. “I can’t believe you did this,” he breathes, voice all wobbly. “I can’t believe you would… that you just—”
Bobby leans in and kisses her— kisses her for what he cannot say, does not know how to say.
When he pulls back, his eyes search hers, and those eyes—those big, love-drenched, glassy eyes—absolutely undo her.
Worse? Teddy’s giving her the exact same look.
Two pairs of gooey, grateful eyes. One from her husband. One from the fluffball.
“Why did you think I deserved this?” Bobby murmurs. “I don’t—”
“I did all this because I’m hopelessly, stupidly in love with you,” she says, already blinking fast. “And you do deserve it, Bobby. God, you deserve everything. I’d give you the world if I could.”
He doesn’t miss a beat. “Yeah, well, baby… You already have.”
And that’s it. That’s when she starts crying.
Which somehow prompts Teddy to sneeze.
Which makes Bobby laugh.
Bobby leans in and kisses her cheek, then the tears still on her skin, the gesture so full of love she thinks her chest might crack from it.
He rests his forehead against her temple, eyes shining with tears as Teddy happily licks his chin like it’s his job.
“Shall we go walk him?” she asks.
“Between you and me,” Bobby groans as he shifts on the floor, “when I dropped to my knees, I’m pretty sure I pulled something.”
She raises an eyebrow. “And here I was counting on you to help me up.”
They both try standing at the same time, both groan, both wobble—and both burst into laughter.
“We’re old, baby. It’s official,” Bobby chuckles, giving a dramatic sigh.
Teddy barks once, tail wagging like it’s got a mind of its own.
“That’s right, Teddy,” Athena grins, “Tell your daddy he’s full of it.”
Bobby laughs, and Athena reaches for his hand, still giggling as she helps pull him to his feet. “See? Look at us, we’re a team.”
Bobby gives her that soft, heart-eyes look again, the kind that never misses, the same one that makes her heart do a little flip. “Alright… Let’s show our baby what a very slow, mildly arthritic walk looks like.”
Athena laughs, the kind that starts low in her chest and rumbles out. “We just gotta stretch before we end up pulling something… That’s all. Stretching is sexy.”
He hums, then breaks into a grin. “We’re young at heart. It’s just that our bodies sometimes miss the memo.”
And as if on cue, Bobby’s knee cracks loudly when he tries to stretch.
“Guess your body’s sending you the memo now,” Athena laughs so loudly she nearly snorts, but she is certainly cackling, laugh all but elegant.
And as usual, just when she’s about to double over in laughter, Bobby doubles down. “I think my joints are trying out for a role in a horror movie.”
Athena loses it, laughing so hard she nearly cries, clutching her stomach like she might fall over.
He leans down and kisses the corner of her mouth, like he’s trying to catch her laugh mid-air and keep it for himself. It’s not even a good laugh—more of a wheeze-snort hybrid—but he treats it like it’s music. Like it’s the best sound she’s ever made. And damn it, she loves him for loving it.
“Do you mind if we swing by the firehouse later?” Bobby asks, his eyes full of hope. “I want Teddy to get used to the place... you know, so he can come to work with me.”