Page 69 of Dear Adam
Mom bites her lip to keep from chuckling, and I shuffle past her to the bathroom.
I park a few blocks from Bloomie’s and unfold myself from behind the steering wheel. The distance between the car and the door to the shop passes too quickly as I rehearse my speech to Aly. When I go to open it with a shaky hand, the door swings open and a red-faced Aly comes flying out.
“What do you want?” she snarls, hands planted on her hips. I know anger isn’t a normal emotion for Aly, but her finger wags my face, and I’m going cross eyed trying to follow it.
“I, uh,” I say, taking a few steps back to focus. “I wanted to—”
“To offer puppy support?” Her voice escalates with each word, and people along the sidewalk stop and stare.
“Puppy support?” I repeat.
“Don’t play dumb with me, Levi,” she sputters. “Puppy support. Like child support but for puppies.”
“I’m not following,” I say. “Can we go inside? Maybe get off the sidewalk?” Someone across the street has pulled out their phone, and I’m sure they’re videoing. If we don’t move fast, we’ll be the next viral internet sensation.
“You don’t want the world to know what your dog did to my precious, innocent, angel Pretzel? She just turned two, Levi! She’s only a teenager!” Her cheeks are flushed bright red, and her blue eyes have darkened to the color of the nighttime sky. Her hair is haphazardly piled on top of her head, a few pieces escaping to fall down around her face. I shake my head to clear my mind. Now is not the time to think about how beautiful she looks.
“Is Pretzel…with puppy?” I ask, finally putting the pieces together.
“Withpuppies,” she corrects. “Four of them.”
“And are you sure Hank is…you know…”
“The father? Of course he’s the father! What are you trying to say about Pretzel?”
“Nothing!” I splutter and move toward her.
“Don’t you dare,” she says, backing up. “How do you even have the audacity to show up here after everything you’ve done?” The anger has disappeared from her eyes, replaced by pain, like a wounded animal. There’s a scratch at the door, and I look down to find a waddling Pretzel with a swollen belly, pawing to come outside.
“Not now,” Aly says to Pretzel. “I know you’re excited to see him, but I’m not.”
“Ouch,” I mutter. “Can we at least get coffee or something? Talk about this? About us?”
She sighs and glances at Pretzel again.
“I don’t know,” Aly says. “I’m still pretty upset, Levi.”
“I know you are,” I say, “And I’ve never been more sorry for anything in my life. Please, let me explain everything to you. Give me a chance.” I reach out my hand, but she ignores it.
“We do need to figure out what to do with the puppies,” she says hesitantly, tapping a finger to her chin. “They’re your grand dogs, and I can’t deny you rights to see them.” I let out a small chuckle, and she flashes me a look full of disgust. “Should we ask Pretzel if she thinks this is funny?”
“No, you’re right. This isn’t funny. I’m sorry. A million times over, Aly.” I shove my hands into my pockets and wait for her response.
She glances down at her watch and then says, “I have an hour before we open. Let’s walk down to the coffee shop.” She opens the door to scoop up Pretzel, and I follow a few doors down to the coffee shop.
We place our orders and settle into a booth in the corner, both nursing our coffees before I finally speak up.
“I don’t know where to begin,” I start, “but I know what I did was wrong. I was given every opportunity to come clean and give you his phone back, and I didn’t. For that, I will never forgive myself, and I’m not expecting you to, either.”
Aly chews on her lower lip and looks down at Pretzel, who is curled in her lap. I suck in a deep breath and continue. “I should never have read any of the messages between you and your brother.”
“You shouldn’t have,” she snaps.
“But Aly,” I say, the words bubbling beneath the surface, ready to explode. “I’ve had a crush on you since the day I met you. When I moved away, I thought I’d never see you again. When I saw your name pop up on that screen…it wasn’t right. I know it wasn’t. But I missed you so much…” I trail off.
“Then why did you leave again?” With hollow eyes, she peers at me from behind her smudged glasses, and I know these past few weeks have been as hard for her as they were for me.
“I thought I needed to prove myself. I thought if I stayed here, I’d look like a coward for running from my failing company. I thought a lot of things that weren’t true,” I confess. I place a sweaty palm on my bouncing knee, stilling myself. “I’m sorry again, for everything.” I try to meet her gaze, but she’s still staring at Pretzel and absently rubbing her growing belly.
