Page 6 of Exclusive

And because I know my Hot Shot better than the back of my own hand, we wait, giving her time to go through her routine. I smile to myself while picturing it, as if the choreographer. First, she’ll roll her eyes and huff, debating whether to ignore my text or not. Then while mumbling some smartass excuse, because she has to put up a good front for her harshest audience of all — herself — she’ll reluctantly open it, listening as I follow it up with another message… right… about… now.

Me: I’m out front of your place. I know you won’t see me, but I brought you something special I think you’ll want to see. And it’s VERY time-sensitive, so I need you to promise me you’ll open up and grab it ASAP if I set it on your doorstep.

And we wait some more. The pup starts to get antsy, so I give him a treat, which he gulps down without bothering to chew first, right as my phone dings with the first reply I’ve gotten from her since this whole thing started.

Hot Shot: Enough with the presents. Just stop. I’m not hungry, thirsty, or in need of a BOMB. (You should work on your descriptions. Unless it is a bomb, in which case, you described it perfectly.)

Me: It’s not a bomb. Or food. Or returnable. I’m bringing it to your door now, so get ready. I’ll knock and walk away, I swear, just say you’ll grab it quick.

“Think she’s gonna give in, buddy. Prepare to be irresistible,” I say to the dog, rubbing his head.

Hot Shot: Fine. But no tricks. Set it down and walk away.

“We have a green light, partner; let’s do this. Don’t let me down.” I scoop the little fur ball up in one arm, grab the carrier thing I bought, and head for her apartment. As I walk, and only for a split second, I consider changing things up once she opens the door, maybe try begging my way inside, but just as quickly refuse the idea. This is progress, and I won’t ruin it by pushing too hard, too fast. I’ve got to accept, and work within the confines of “Presley time.” Take what I can get, whenI can get it, and build from there.

I give the pup one last head rub for good luck, put him in the crate, set it on her doormat as I knock… and walk away.

But not too far away.

She didn’t specify or stipulate where away meant, so hiding around the corner of her building isn’t in direct violation of any set terms.

It doesn’t take near as long as I expected for her to crack open the door and peek out, her wide eyes aimed up, no doubt scanning the area for me. Then she hears him, trying to make a break from his jail and yipping his “hello,” so she looks down, searching for my whereabouts immediately forgotten.

Phone out, ready and waiting like the mushy fool she’s turned me into, I get my perfect shot — a picture of her beautiful face, alight with surprise and happiness — the moment she sees him.

“Well, hello there you precious thing. Who are you?” She snickers, cooing in a baby voice I’m sure is as foreign to her ears as it is mine, squatting down and opening the carrier to rescue him. “Are you lost?” She stands, holding the excited, squirming pup up in the air to get a good look, then snuggles him close against her, laughing melodically as he slathers her in puppy kisses. “No, you’re not a bit lost. You’re home, aren’t you? Yes, you’re Castello, my sweet lil’ pound mutt, home at last.”

She already loves him. Dearly. I can hear it in her voice, see it in her smile… and that makes me smile. She now has a new, lifelong friend, the ideal friend, who’ll listen to all her woes and give her unconditional love – the things she needs, wants most, but won’t let me do. And he’ll never disappoint or betray her — everything I did do. It’s up to you now, Castello. Make me proud.

“Let’s get you inside, show ya around your new pad.” And just like that, they disappear behind the closed door.

I want so badly to be in there with them, but smile anyway, taking this small victory… she’s not alone anymore.

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