Page 98 of Worst in Show

As she says so, the door opens, and the florist enters again, carrying another bouquet. My heart sinks. The first one with the roses was a romantic bull’s-eye, but Micki is right—the daily offering is a little much.

Micki purses her lips but doesn’t say anything until the woman is gone. “It’s sweet and all, but please tell him to stop. This isn’t you.”

I unwrap the pink-and-burgundy arrangement and throw an old bouquet into the trash so I can use the vase. “But he likes doing it.” I pick up the tiny envelope that’s attached to one of the buds.

“Another note, too? It’s like he’s read a manual on how to be the perfect boyfriend and is determined to top it.”

That’s when I realize why the flowers no longer make me giddy and warm. He’s trying to impress. And while I loved the first thoughtful gesture, being showered in gifts isn’t what makes my heart go boom. Not like a home-cooked meal for my birthday or a genuine compliment. He’s doing this for him. But why does he think he has to court me like this?

“Yeah, maybe you’re right,” I tell Micki.

“You should talk to him. Maybe no one’s ever told him try-hards are a turnoff.”

God, I’m so stupid. This is Leo we’re talking about—the guy who’s never been allowed anything but excellence. He’s just falling into old patterns.

“I’m going to throw some of these out,” Micki says, shrugging out of her coat. “Flower corpses scare away customers.”

While she wanders the store, I sort through the stack of mail. One envelope in particular stands out. It’s from our landlord. I did pay the rent, didn’t I? I tear it open, and praise be, it’s not an overdue notice. Dear tenants, etc., etc. I skim the text until I get to the final paragraph where reality smacks me across the head so hard that tiny dogs flutter around me like stars. The rent increase… I knew about this, have known since early spring. And I forgot. Come the new year, the whole block is being rezoned, and the cost will be incorporated into our leases. Fuck me all the way to the Emerald City.

“What is it?” Micki stares at me while wiping a rotted leaf off her hand.

I sink onto the stool behind the counter and show her the letter. My stomach is solid lead. “I haven’t planned for it.” I bury my face in my hands. When I open them, the first thing I see is the next envelope in the pile—another notice for the electrical bill. To the right of me is my sewing machine that’s gone largely untouched since my birthday. And behind Micki, the store is devoid of customers. A glance out the window tells me Leo is having no such woes.

“I think I’ve messed up,” I say.

Micki’s eyes rest on me, dark and serious. “Nothing you can’t fix, right?”

“I don’t know.” It’s like waking from a dream, a fluffy pink mist dissipating to reveal concrete blocks and smokestacks. Now I smell the decay in the air. It’s making me nauseous. “I have so much to do.” I never even followed through with that vendor who didn’t deliver my dry food.

Micki leans over the counter and places a hand on my arm. “You can do this. How can I help?”

Where do I start? I can’t believe I dropped the ball like this. Because of a guy. “Would you mind feeding the dogs? And then finding the holiday signs in storage?”

“On it.” Micki takes off up the stairs.

Okay, what’s next? My pulse is a palpitating mess that sends flashes of heat up my neck. How could I let myself forget what’s at stake here? When Harvey is discharged, do I want to hand back the place in worse condition than it was before he fell? No. Tell him he and the dogs will be out on their asses come January first? Hell no.

“Eyes on the prize, Cora,” I mutter. And I was wrong; Leo isn’t the prize. The prize is $15,000, and Cholula, Boris, and Cap living out their full natural lives with us, the people who love them most. Don’t get me wrong—I’ll lose myself in Leo’s arms tonight, too—but he can’t be my priority right now. I’m going to have to tell him I need to take a step back. A small step. Temporarily. I need to focus.

I call the vendor first, and after being patched through from customer service to vendor service and billing, they insist my order was delivered as agreed.

“And I’m telling you, I never received it.”

They put me on hold once again to a discordant version of “Santa Baby.” I rub my forehead where tiny elves wield sledgehammers on my skull.

“Ma’am?” The service rep sounds as tired as I feel. “I have your delivery confirmation right here.” She rattles off the number of boxes, which is twice what I ordered. “Delivered October 29.”

“No, my order was for six boxes, and I never got them,” I say again, getting out of my seat and pacing toward the window.

She starts responding, but at the sight of Canine King, I stop listening. What if…?

“Sorry,” I interrupt her. “What’s the address on the delivery slip?”

She tells me, and while the street name is right, the number isn’t. She has Leo’s address. “I’m going to have to call you back,” I say and hang up as she asks if I’d like to place a new order.

Leo answers on the second ring, his voice warm in the way that makes me want to purr when I’m with him. Not today. I get right to it. “Hey, did you get a delivery from Pet-Pet Foods a while back that was bigger than usual?”

He looks up, finding me across the street. “How did you know?”

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