“What if unfiltered me is too much?” I voiced my fear in a small voice.
“We love you, Vicky,” Mike said firmly. “The real you is never going to be too much for us. So what if some people don’t understand you? Fuck em. Best to be yourself, love. Everyone else is taken.”
2 years later…
Mike
“Harding, there’s a small child on a pony in my front garden… again,” I said into the phone as I stared out of my window.
“Thank Christ for that,” Ollie said in relief. “We’ve been looking everywhere.”
“She’s three years old, mate,” I told him as I watched said three-year-old trot up to my back door. “How does she keep giving you the slip?”
“She’s no normal three-year-old,” Ollie muttered darkly as a small fist started pounding at my door.
At the sudden noise, a load of barking erupted from the sofa, and I glanced over just in time to see Bilbo struggling his way out of Vicky’s arms, where moments ago he’d been peacefully lying.
Laughing, Vicky negotiated around her huge stomach to gently put the fat, golden retriever puppy on the floor, and he shot off towards the door.
I sighed into the phone.
“Your daughter has woken up my pregnant wife.” I was not happy to have my Sunday, or Vicky’s much needed nap with our new puppy interrupted.
Vicky rolled her eyes at me.
“I’m fine,” she said, then, “Hello, Ollie,” as she passed me to the door.
Bilbo had already collided with the wood and was scratching to get to the little girl on the other side.
Margot junior was waiting with open arms to receive the excited puppy as soon as Vicky opened the door. The fat pony with her pushed past the child and dog bundle before strutting right into my bloody kitchen.
“Hello, Margot,” Vicky said with a smile, as if a pony and small child making themselves at home in our house was perfectly normal. Which, in our crazy life, was a pretty accurate assessment.
There were advantages and disadvantages to living this close to your friends and family. They all commuted now. Felix and Vicky’s company was so successful that they could call the shots with their investors anyway. This included no more business wear for Vicky. If she did have to go up to London, she’d be in leggings and soft jumpers, and nobody said a word.
Vicky had become much better at advocating for herself. She had confidence now that she never had before. And she no longer shied away from labels.
She didn’t mind being different, being an outlier.
Often, she even leaned into it when it gave her an edge in business.
“Okay, Legolas,” she said to the pony, who was shoving her leg with his nose.
“Hey!” I shouted at the furry little bastard. “Stop shoving my wife.”
Vicky just grabbed an apple from the fruit basket and gave it to Legolas, who snorted again before trotting away to flop down on the rug we had in front of the sofa.
“Get this pony out of here!” I said to Ollie through gritted teeth.
“I’m on my way to get Margot. If you want Legolas removed, you’ll have to speak to your sister. You know that little shit hates me.”
He hung up on me, and I growled as I shoved my phone into my back pocket.
Vicky waddled over to the door and shut it behind Margot, who was now standing with the squirming puppy in her arms.
“Margot Harding,” I said sternly, and she scowled at me. “You ran away again.”
“I needs to see the puppy,” she said in a stubborn voice. “I only had one cuddle with him yesterday. Henry, Bea and Theo got loads more cuddles than me.”
