Page 133 of Three Not-So-Little Words
“Good,” she says. “That was the end goal.”
“What did he mean byhis wish came true?”
She looks away from me as if embarrassed. “The other day, when we were making cupcakes on his mom’s birthday, he asked what he should wish for. I told him he could wish for whatever he wanted, and he asked if he should tell me. I said if he did, maybe the spirit of his mom would help me make it come true.”
“You’re incredible,” I tell her. And without thinking about it, I blurt, “I love you.”
She looks at me as her jaw drops open.
“Oh, uh–”
I stop her before she can stammer even more. “Ronnie, stop. I don’t need you to say it back. I don’twantyou to say it back until you’re ready…and when you mean it.”
She looks completely shocked. “You love me?”
“Yes. I know that probably freaks you out. I mean it when I said I don’t expect anything from you. This isn’t me trying to trap you into something you’re not ready for. This is me just telling you that you’re incredible, and I love you.”
She thinks for so long that I wonder if she even heard the last things that I said, so I say, “If you want to pretend like I never said anything at all, we can.”
“No,” she finally says. “We don’t have to pretend like you never said it. I just don’t know if I’m ready to say it back. That’s a pretty big thing for me.”
“I know, baby.” I pull her in for a hug. “You don’t need to say it back. I just kind of blurted it out. I wanted it to be way more special than that when I first said it to you, but you have to be so damn wonderful that it just came out.”
I feel her relax against me, and I’m grateful that I calmed her down a bit.
Thank God.
I fucking love her, and I don’t want to do anything to mess that up.
fifty-one
Both a Little Broken
Ronnie
“Who’s a good boy? Who’s a good boy?” I coo as I rub Samson’s belly. “That’s right! Samson is a good boy!”
I wasn’t sure if volunteering at the animal shelter would be as much fun as it used to be, but it totally is. I’ve taken time to love on each one of the babies as I’ve cleaned out their stalls.
As I’ve done my work, I have made mental notes of some of the things that the shelter needs, so I can order them online andbring them in next week. All the furry babies in here deserve anything and everything I can give them.
I love on Samson for a few more minutes before getting up to move to the next stall. One of the workers, Carlos, walks over to me and asks how I’m doing.
“Fine,” I reply. “I only have one stall left.” I point to the one I’m getting ready to enter.
“Good luck with that one.”
“Why?” I ask. “Is he mean?”
“No, Arlo’s not mean. He’s just a total spaz. I think something happened to him before he came here because he acts terrified of everyone. No one who wants to adopt has even taken a second look at him.”
Poor baby.
I walk over and peek above the gate. There’s a tan dog that looks like a pitbull mix of some kind. As I start to walk inside, he cowers in the corner.
“Hi, little guy,” I say, holding out my hand.
He moves even further back against the wall.
