His Dog Over Daughter

The mountain air should have been refreshing. Instead, it felt heavy in my lungs as I watched Jared check his phone for the fifth time in twenty minutes. Our family camping trip to the Rocky Mountains—a weekend I'd planned for months—was already falling apart before we'd even finished setting up our tent.

"Is everything okay?" I asked, trying to keep my voice light for Emma's sake. Our daughter was arranging her collection of smooth stones on a nearby log, humming softly to herself.

Jared glanced up, his expression distracted. "It's Chelsea. Muffin's having some kind of anxiety attack about being alone. She's asking if she can join us."

My stomach tightened. Of course it was Chelsea. It was always Chelsea with her perfectly timed emergencies. "This is supposed to be family time, Jared."

"Mom, look!" Emma held up a heart-shaped stone, her smile wide and innocent. "It looks just like the one we found at the beach last year!"

I forced myself to smile back, touching the necklace Emma had made me from another special stone. "It's beautiful, sweetheart."

Jared was already typing a response, not even looking up at our daughter's discovery. "Chelsea's already on her way. She was in the area anyway."

Of course she was.

* * *

Chelsea arrived two hours later, her SUV kicking up dust as it pulled into our campsite. She stepped out looking like she was dressed for a fashion shoot rather than camping, her expensive perfume cutting through the pine-scented air. Muffin, her pampered Pomeranian, was cradled in her arms like a newborn.

"Oh my God, thank you so much for letting me crash your family weekend," she gushed, immediately moving to stand beside Jared. Her free hand found his arm, squeezing it with familiar intimacy. "I just couldn't bear leaving Muffin alone when he was so distressed, and the pet sitter canceled last minute."

"We're happy to have you," Jared replied, though I certainly wasn't consulted on that decision.

Chelsea's eyes swept over our modest campsite, lingering on my worn hiking boots and practical clothing. "Valeria, you're so brave to rough it like this. I could never pull off that... natural look."

I bit the inside of my cheek. "It's camping, Chelsea. Not a runway."

"Daddy, can I show you where I'm going to put my tent?" Emma tugged at Jared's sleeve, her eyes hopeful.

"In a minute, sweetheart," he said absently, his attention fixed on Chelsea as she described Muffin's supposed panic attack in excruciating detail.

Emma's face fell for just a moment before she rallied. "That's okay! I can show you later. Is that your doggy?" she asked Chelsea, ever the peacemaker.

"Yes, this is Muffin," Chelsea replied without looking at my daughter. "He's very sensitive. Children make him nervous."

Emma stepped back, her small shoulders drooping. I took her hand and squeezed it gently. "Why don't we finish setting up our special reading tent while Daddy helps Ms. Hoffman?"

As we walked away, I glanced back to