My Husband Wants An Open Marriage
“My French bulldog. He’s—how do I put this—larger than life. And I mean larger. The vet politely called him ‘robust,’ but we both know he meant obese. The little chunk wobbles when he walks.”
I laugh, picturing a French bulldog teetering like a bowling pin about to fall over. “So, Nathan has bonded with your dog. I’m guessing that’s a good thing?”
Marissa leans back in her chair, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “It would be if he didn’t act like Chubbs was his dog. Do you know he feeds Chubbs by hand? Organic turkey slices. Like he’s preparing him for some Michelin-star meal. Last weekend, he bought Chubbs a sweater. A cashmere sweater. Said it was ‘necessary for his comfort.’ I didn’t e