Page 113 of Worst in Show

Fine way to do it—waking me up…

He shades his eyes against the cornea-shredding morning sun to see me better. “Can we talk?”

A brisk gust of wind sends icy prickles across my skin. The thermometer on my windowsill announces seventeen degrees. I can’t say I’m in the mood for this, but he did shovel my sidewalk. “Hold on,” I say, and close the window. I snatch my grandma’s threadbare old robe from a hook on the wall and slip my feet into Harvey’s slippers. Cholula and Cap follow me down the stairs.

As I approach the front door, Leo sticks his shovel into the snowbank and steps in under the awning. At first, he’s smiling, but when he sees my expression, he stops.

“What is it?” I ask, opening the door. “I was up until two o’clock working.” The dogs are sniffing around my slippers, so I close the door a little and use my foot to keep them back. “No guys, you stay there.”

Leo wipes his gloved hand across his nose. Looks at his watch. His face falls. “I didn’t realize the time,” he says. “Sorry. I didn’t want you to have to clear the snow by yourself.”

It sounds genuine. Like he woke up and thought of a good deed to do, but also, there’s no way he’s not hoping to get something out of it for himself. I sigh and shift my stance. “Leo, come on.”

The color in his cheeks darkens. “Come on what? I’m trying to do a nice thing here.”

“What do you want me to say?” I shrug a little, both from exasperation and from the cold air creeping up my bare legs. “Thank you?” I scan the length of the sidewalk. “Looks like a lot of work. Is that what you wanted to talk about? My gratitude for your services?” Is this what we’ve come to—communicating in platitudes? My throat feels tight again. With him standing in front of me like this, sad, blue eyes resting on my face, hands idle at his sides, it would be so easy to go to him and wrap my arms around his solid body. I know exactly what it would feel like. If only we could rewind time and make his dad never show up.

“I miss you,” he says, echoing my thoughts. “This is ridiculous. I’ve tried calling you.”

My mind sorts through possible responses. I miss you, too. I didn’t know what to say to you. I wish this never happened. In the end, I settle on, “Are you still going to New York?”

He adjusts his hat on his forehead. “Yes. Tomorrow.”

His words are as disappointing today as they were last time. I nod, my head bobbing slowly up and down as I shove any tenderness back down. “Goodbye, Leo.”

I start closing the door, but he’s faster.

“No!” He puts his boot between the door and the frame to keep it open. “Why does it have to be goodbye?”

Does he really not get it? “Because you’ve made your choice. And it’s the wrong one.” He starts to object, but I cut him off. “You know it’s the wrong one. You don’t want to do this, but instead of fighting, you’re letting your dad decide. I can’t watch you do that to yourself.” As the words pour out of me, I lose some of the carefully conjured control I’ve managed so far, and my voice breaks.

“Oh, Cora…” He pushes the door open wider and takes one step toward me, and as he does, a flurry of brown shoots past me outside.

“Cholula, no!” I yell. I shove Leo aside and take off after my little beast who’s jumped headfirst into the snowbank, mouth open wide. It’s a buffet of juicy ice. “Cut her off over there,” I call to Leo as I circle around Cholula’s right side. “Come on, Cho. Let’s go back inside.”

Cho pauses her digging and looks at me long enough that Leo can get closer on her other side.

“Gotcha.” He scoops her up, and she yelps. Her tiny teeth dig into his jacket but don’t seem to pierce all the way through the layers. “After all these months, she still can’t stand me.” He hands her to me.

“Cho, no. Bad dog. We don’t bite.” I clutch her close to my chest. “You’re a complete popsicle now, silly girl.”

“Glad I was able to grab her,” Leo says.

I shuffle back inside in slippers that now are more like sponges. “Would have been even better if you didn’t let her out in the first place.”

“Cora, I—” He cuts himself off, pointing instead to my sleeve. “Shit, she’s bleeding.” He takes two steps closer.

I glance down to see a rapidly growing red stain on the sleeve of my robe. Dread courses through me as I turn Cholula in my arms to see where it’s coming from. There’s an oozing wound on one of her paws. “She must have cut it on the snow crust.”

“Can I do anything?” Leo’s voice is tinged with regret.

“No, I’ve got it. I think it looks worse than it is.” I move to head back upstairs but pause near the register to look back at him, disappointment and longing warring inside me. “Please close the door after you,” I say. “And safe travels.”

By the time the stupid sun rises next, he’s gone. A leaden sky would be a much more appropriate illustration of the gloom that’s taken up permanent residence inside my head, but no such luck. Its rays reflect in Canine King’s dark windows, but I can’t help myself. I still look for Leo every time movement outside draws my gaze that way.

That’s why I nearly jump out of my skin behind the counter when, around noon, Canine King’s front door opens. I’m in the middle of helping a customer pick out the right size collar for their cat, and I cut myself off midsentence to stare as Jaz steps out onto the sidewalk with Leo’s A-frame.

“Everything okay?” the customer asks.

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