Page 8 of I Choose You

My shoulders drop. “You’re kidding me.”

Her nostrils flare, and she swipes a hand over her forehead, pushing away her short, loose curls as if they have a place to go. They happily spring back into place half a millisecond later, causing her to resort to her hand on her hip to get her point across. “Does this face look like I’m kidding, babe?”

“He’s been difficult since he got here,” I murmur.

When she moves a hand from her hip, her shoulders sag the slightest bit. “He’s sweet when he isn’t shitting all over the place, but he’s officially the worst right now.”

“How long do you think the first day jitters will last?” She’s with the animals every single day. If there’s anyone who can answer the question, it’s her.

She blows out a breath, her full, lipstick-coated lips pursing. “If it is that, maybe another day or so? I don’t know, but he’s got it bad. Before I came in here, that was his fourth time, and it’s just after lunch. I can’t even think about what I’ll come into tomorrow morning, but it might be good to contact the vet to make sure it’s not something more serious. We’re going to keep him in the back office until he settles in more.”

I nod, understanding the stress he’s causing. “I’ll call Patricia as soon as I’m done here.”

After Nelly leaves, there’s this weird energy hanging around that I can’t kick; like the universe is promising things will change without taking my opinion into account.

To get away from it, I walk down the aisle toward Nancy and Owen while making a mental note to remember to call the vet. “Any luck?”

Nancy clicks her tongue and leans on her cane. I can’t help but notice the excess of blush on her wrinkled cheeks or the laugh lines that frame her mouth. It’s clear she has years of good memories, and I can only hope she shared them with a significant other who loved her just as much.

I almost jump with glee when Nancy distracts me from my ridiculous train of thought.

“Oh, you know, not quite yet.”

“I told her to go for that one,” Owen says, pointing down the aisle to Lucky. I smile over having the same thought.

“Lucky would be a great match,” I say, my voice much perkier than the conversation I shared with Nelly. “What do you think, Nancy?”

She looks around the room, the narrow walkways with kennels lining both sides. “Which one is that again?”

“Nan, that one back there. The tiny one with the loudmouth,” Owen explains. He looks back at me when his grandmother isn’t paying attention and mouths, sorry.

I brush the apology off because there’s nothing to be sorry for. Nancy is going to adopt one of these dogs and give them a forever home. She can take the entire day, and I wouldn’t bat an eye over it. I admire her effort to make sure she picks the best companion.

“She is pretty, that one,” Nancy agrees.

“Should I pull her out and bring her into the petting room for you again? Maybe see if you have a connection that you missed before?”

Nancy thinks it over, then starts walking in the direction of the enclosed room we use for families who want to interact with the animals before adopting. “I’ll be waiting.” She jostles her cane at her grandson, who happily follows.

I smile at her candor and head over to Lucky’s kennel. I tuck her under my arm, walk to the family petting room, and place her on the floor once the door to the room is secure. Then, I excuse myself to allow them time to connect with one another while Nelly’s words play back in my mind for the entire afternoon, even as I fill out Nancy’s paperwork for Lucky.

4

Mackenzie

Jimmy’s Wings sits on the corner of 1st Street and Charming Boulevard. It’s hard to find a place to park because—as usual—the place is busy as hell.

I make it inside minutes after six, the nipping chill dissipating as the building’s heat cloaks me. It’s an open concept with a bar that sits along the back and a mix of high and low tables scattered throughout. In each corner, there’s an oversized flat screen showing the sport of the season. Right now, it’s soccer, and while I have no interest in it, Mason and Luke will get a kick out of watching the game while we eat since they played in college.

After scoping the place, I spot Mason at the far end of the dining area near the bar, sitting at one of the tall tables.

I don’t miss the faint lines of exhaustion tracing his eyelids or the fact that they’re worse than they were on Saturday—or the five o’clock shadow that hugs his cheeks and chin when I approach. All over again, my heart aches at how little time he gets to himself. As hopeful as I am that his boss will be generous enough to give him a week off to recoup and recharge, I know it’ll never happen.

Mason stands when I approach. His smile is so easy-going that I can’t help but smile back. “Hey, Kenz.” His arm grazes mine as he rounds the table to help me with my jacket. I’m ready to chastise my body for being so quick to react and so needy for the attention. My breath falters with the contact. I know, without a doubt, that if someone were meeting my needs, my stomach wouldn’t be bouncing off the walls at the slightest touch.

His breath fans across my neck as I slide my puffy coat down my arms. The entire time I ignore the miniature version of me perched on my shoulder that is fangirling like hell over his chivalry.

“Such a fine gentleman,” I say with an English accent as cover when he drapes the coat over the back of my chair.

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