sugar daddy III » jack gilinsky

Seventeen

Back to Camila's point of view

June 29th, 2020

"Michael, what the hell?" My eyes widen, but excitement surges through me as I see him enter the door with a puppy. "I thought you went to work."

"I did, but then after, I went to get a dog." He states like it's no big deal.

But it is. I've always wanted a dog.

"What's it's name?" I coo, holding my hands out so he can set the tiny thing in my hands.

"I named him Wilson. I don't know why." He shrugs and chuckles, setting the pup in my hands.

Michael then plops down onto the couch next to me, watching me almost cry over the cute creature.

"Stop staring, creep." I shove my hand in his face and he laughs.

"I'm not staring. I'm admiring." He mocks, making me roll my eyes and smile.

"Are you going to keep him?" I question.

"No." He sarcastically throws his hands up. "I just brought it to you for five minutes and then I'm going to get a refund."

"Your jokes aren't very funny. Are you hungry?" I ask him. "I made food." I tell him.

Well, geez, now I sound like a housewife.

"Very." He tells me.

"Then go eat." I shoo him off.

"Is Peyton awake? I want to show him Wilson." He says.

"He's taking his second nap of the day." I sigh, loudly. "Do you even have anything prepared for this puppy?" I look over to him.

He has a big smile on his face, shaking his head no. My eyes widen. Is he crazy?

"We'll go buy some things once Peyton wakes up." Michael tells me. "Don't worry, I got this." He flashes me a wink before lifting himself up from the couch.

But he just sat down. And I've literally been lonely all day. I need someone to talk to! Wilson nibbles onto my finger and this house is going to end up pretty hectic. With a 16 month old baby and a little puppy. The responsibility level is intense.

"Michael, come get your dog." I call out to him, but continue petting it's head.

He peeps around the corner with his shirt balled up in his hands, "I'm going to shower really quick before I eat."

I bite the inside of my cheek and nod my head, embarrassed that I just saw him shirtless.

I patiently wait for Peyton to walk up and then I go up the stairs and into the guest room. He holds his arms out to me right away when he sees me and I take him out of his playpen.

I set Wilson down on the carpet, as well as Peyton. As I try to change his diaper, he fusses and tries to reach around for the dog. I knew that this was going to be a distraction, but I couldn't just leave the little puppy alone in the living room.

"Darn." I hear a voice behind me, startling me. "You got to Peyton before me."

I grin up at him and he sits down on the floor next to me. The dog waddles towards him and everyone seems to like Michael. Everyone and everything.

*

"Shh, quiet." I hush Peyton from his screaming.

He sits in the basket of the cart with Wilson in his tiny arms and I push it around the petsmart.

"Let the boy be." Michael tells me. "He's living life."

"He's going to get us kicked out if he keeps screaming." I reply.

Michael walks beside, grabbing whatever he sees that's made for dogs. He's not prepared at all.

"Michael, get some actual food for it." I chide. "He's going to get fat if all you feed him are treats."

"All you feed Peyton are Oreos." He raises his eyebrows, a sly smirk on his face. "You're so negative. Lighten up, please." He nudges me.

Well, my husband did cheat on me recently. Sorry if I'm not all rainbows and sunshine.

I shove his shoulder, "I hate you."

"I'm kidding, Camila!" He laughs, slinging his arm around my shoulders.

His 6'3 figure towers over me immensely; and I thought Sam was tall. After we rush down many aisles, picking up whatever we think is essential, we finally make it to checkout. The grand total comes around to $550, but I don't think Michael cares.

We bought food, snacks, a cage, bed, toys, a collar, a leash and shampoo for Wilson. He's going to be such a spoiled little brat. I've come to the conclusion that whoever steps foot into Michael's house, they will be spoiled to death.

I hold Peyton on my hip and Wilson on my other arm. Michael pushes the cart, childishly hopping on the edge, rolling down the parking lot and toward his vehicle.

We drive back to the house, jamming out to radio music and occasionally dancing along with it. When we arrive, I help take things out of the car and then let Peyton and Wilson play in the living room so I can prepare dinner.

"Need help?" Michael asks me and I smile, shaking my head no.

"No thank you. All I need to do is warm all of this up for us, but get Wilson some food." I instruct him.

"Yes, ma'am."

He returns back into the kitchen with the giant bag of dog food and a tiny blue food bowl. He tries to rip the seam open, which causes all of the contents to fly around the kitchen.

"Shit." He mutters, looking around.

I laugh loudly and he narrows his eyes at me. His face then turns into a pout.

"Help me clean it up!"

"Wait a minute." I try to cease my laughing. "Give me a minute, please."

"It was that funny." He rolls his eyes, huffing.

There's a sudden ring from the doorbell that sounds throughout the house and my eyebrows pull inward. Together, Michael and I walk towards it and he opens it up. I spot a lady and a man.

"Camila Gilinsky?" The female asks and the blood drains from my face.

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