Damn. Who knew world domination was at the helm of a purebred Pomeranian?

“Olivia!” Chloe is sprinting to keep up with her potential National Dog Show contender. Behind her, Morgan smiles. Vivian, however, looks like she might use the dog to smother her wife in her sleep.

“Hey, you!” The puppy reaches me first and growls. Either she disapproves of my jacket, or knows that I drink filtered tap water. I definitely don’t meet her dignified standards.

“I thought you were spending today with your mom?”

Eventually, I know I’ll have to explain the truth to her but not today—not on Christmas.

“What’s your puppy’s name?” I ask.

Pricilla? Georgina? Madame Cornelia of Greenwich Village?

“Chewbacca.”

Well.

Okay.

“Because she already chewed through Mama’s favorite pair of shoes.”

I glance up in time to see Vivian twitch. “Mama’s favorite pair of Louboutins.”

“Relax, dear.” Morgan nudges her. “I already bought you a new pair. They’ll be here on Friday.”

“That’s. Not. The. Point.”

Chewbacca forces my attention back on her by biting my finger.

“Ow.”

Chloe giggles. “We’re going to call her Miss Chewy for short.”

“Miss Chewy certainly likes to chew.”

Miss Chewy dismisses me and moves on to Asher, who is wearing Saint Laurent boots and smells like Tom Ford. Clearly he meets her high standards.

Same, girl, same.

“Guess what, Olivia?”

“What?”

“We’re going to Turks & Hot Cocoa,” she says. “Nanny rented us a whole island. Uncle Asher’s coming, so that means you have to come too. But even if he wasn’t coming, I’d still want you to come.”

I look at Asher, who is crouching down next to Miss Chewy. He sighs at his niece’s charmingly brash manners. “Turks and Caicos.”

“That’s what I said.” Chloe rolls her eyes. “You’re gonna come, right? We can get matching bathing suits and drink lemonade all day. You’re gonna have to bring lots of sunblock because you’re super white like Mommy and Uncle Asher.”

“Chloe,” Morgan laughs.

“I’ll talk it over with Asher,” I tell Chloe.

“He’s right there,” she says. “You can talk in front of us. Tell her about the seats in first class, Uncle Asher.”

“Chloe,” Vivian says. “We’ve talked about meddling.”

Asher laughs. “Maybe you should talk to Olivia about that too.”

I don’t get a chance to glare at him. Because the moment the first flake of snow touches the tip of Chewbacca’s nose, she starts yapping and yapping and yapping. Clearly, she’s a lady whose hair must be protected from the natural elements at all costs.

The snow starts falling harder and faster, flurries frozen on the ground. Morgan wrangles Miss Chewy into her coat and we say quick goodbyes before running in opposite directions.