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Mila crossed her arms over her chest to hug herself. Rissa would probably be a better owner for the little dog than she would. It broke her heart, but she forced the words out of her mouth.

“If you want to, um, keep her,” Mila said, working hard not to cry, “I guess that would be fine. I’ve only had her for a day, and you’d probably be a better owner.”

As if she could understand what she was saying, Babette whined a little and looked over Rissa’s shoulder at Mila. She could’ve sworn Babette was giving her a betrayed look.

Rissa turned and rushed over to Mila, thrusting the small dog back into her arms. “Oh no, sweetie, I didn’t mean it like that! I was only being silly.”

After Babette was back in Mila’s arms, Carter was there, drawing her away from Rissa.

“No one would ever take away your dog,” he assured her, walking her back to the bar stool.

“I don’t have much to offer,” Mila mumbled.

“Only love and devotion,” Carter countered, urging her onto the stool. “What would you like to eat? We’ve got all kinds of burgers, loaded nachos, burritos, and,” he paused and pulled over one of the containers, “oh, they made pot pie! You’ve got to try this, it’s the best."

He cut an entire pie in half, dished half to her and pulled the other half in front of himself.

“That’s a lot,” she protested.

He gave her a surprised look before a little shrug. “Eat what you want, and I’ll finish what you can’t.”

He thought he could eat almost an entire pot pie? She glanced up and down his body. Well, he was a big guy and heavily muscled. He probably needed a lot of fuel to keep that all going.

She turned her gaze back to her own dish. Her empty stomach was clambering for her to eat, but she hesitated. It felt decadent when she didn’t have any money to contribute, and Babette needed to eat too.

“Hey, Mila!” Tag called from further down the bar. “We brought something for Babette.”

Rissa moved to take the bag Tag was pointing at and brought it to where she and Carter were sitting. As Mila watched, Rissa pulled a container from the bag and poured some of it into a bowl. It looked like a combination of ground up turkey or chicken, rice, and a few veggies all mixed together.

“We called Titan, and he said this was a good thing to feed her,” Tag explained before going back to his meal.

“Titan?” Mila asked Rissa.

“He runs a rescue,” Rissa explained as she pushed the bowl closer to where Babette’s little nose was twitching about a million miles an hour. Although the little dog was more interested in Mila’s pot pie, she eagerly accepted the dog food. “He’s the person we go to for any animal questions. If he doesn’t know, he can put us in contact with who does.”

Babette wolfed down the food with the speed of a magician making things disappear.

Still, Mila couldn’t make herself eat.

“You don’t like pot pie?” Carter asked, setting down his fork and grabbing another container. “How about a burger? Whatever spice the guys use for their fries is amazing. Wait till you try it.”

“Everything looks really good,” Mila assured him. How could she explain that she felt like she was taking advantage of all these nice people? Or even more scared that after everything waseaten they’d all start pulling money out to settle the bill, and she’d have to hand over the last of her cash?

“Mila?” Rissa was leaning over the bar, her arms resting on the shiny surface. The low-cut top meant that the position put her generous breasts on display. Mila wished she was confident like Rissa. The woman wore her large size with ease, moving like she didn’t care that the world treated women like them as if they didn’t belong. Mila dreamed of wearing bright, fitted clothing like Rissa.

Every time she thought about it, she heard her dad’s voice:“They know you’re hefty, Mila. You don’t need to show off every roll!”

Or her mom’s equally bad:“Save your money to buy clothes once you’ve lost some weight. It’ll be like a reward.”

They didn’t mean to be cruel, but they’d treated their only larger sized child as if she was flawed.

“Everyone’s being so nice,” Mila whispered, unsure what to say to the self-assured, beautiful Rissa.

“That’s who they are,” Rissa said. “We all take turns picking up the tab for these big meals. Tonight Carter is paying the bill.”

“I am?” Carter asked, his words garbled by the food he was eating.

Rissa raised a single eyebrow and tilted her head a little. “I’m explaining to Mila that she doesn’t need to worry about paying for anything because we all take turns paying. Someday she can pick up the bill, but tonight we’ll be using your card.”