Page 22 of Love in Training
“His... oh.” I flush with guilt. How did I forget to give him water? I pull a mixing bowl I never use out of the cupboard, fill it at the sink, and set it on the floor at the edge of the kitchen without looking at either of them.
“Okay, has he been fed?” She sounds a little impatient, but that’s not unfair.
“Yes.”
“Walked?”
“I took him right before I left for the gym. Which was only like... ninety minutes ago.” I shake my head, leaning against the counter and surveying my apartment. “Did he really do this?”
“Well, yeah,” Lydia says. And this time her tone is clipped. “As I understand, he was flown across the country by a stranger yesterday, then left with another stranger. Who then left him alone in a strange place with no water.”
“It wasn’t that long.” I hold up my desecrated shoe. “Look what he did!”
Lydia winces. “Consider this your first lesson in dog ownership,” she says kindly but firmly. “They can’t tell time.”
“Heartthrob has never done anything like this!” I gesture around the room, queasy just looking at my living area. I loved that couch. I loved those pillows. “Why wouldanyanimal do this?”
“It’s separation anxiety. You said he was Kyle's, right?”
I press my lips together and nod.
“So, he was a military dog and went through who knows what,” she speculates. “He lost his owner a year ago—and what’s happened to him since? This poor guy’s got some baggage.” She frowns, glancing in the corner behind him. “Why didn’t you put him in the crate when you left?”
I stare at the giant box, with its blanket inside and secure metal door, seemingly the only undisturbed item in the room. I know I don’t have the right answer, so I just shrug. “I honestly didn’t even think of it.”
Lydia reaches to scratch the dog’s fuzzy black ears. “Lots of dogs with separation anxiety do better in a crate when they’re left alone.”
“Now you tell me.”
She gives me a sidelong look. “I did ask for an update yesterday...”
I bite my lip. Maybe she’s right, and this whole situation could’ve been avoided. Which makes me feel worse. I glare at the dog, turn, and throw the heel at what’s left of my sitting area. “Look what you did to my couch!”
Rufus stiffens next to Lydia and barks.
“Caprice,” she admonishes. And I get a weird flash of what she’ll sound like as a mother. “You’re going to freak him out again.”
I exhale, walking to the kitchen for a garbage bag while she pets him and offers more treats. I know she isn’t trying to blame me, but it seems like I have a right to be upset when my home is literally ruined.
“Hand me one of those,” she says, scooping feathers from my duvet into a pile on the bed.
I grab the entire box, then glance at the clock. “Don’t you have to get going? When did you say you’d meet Henry?”
She rests her hands on her hips, then pulls out her phone. “I’ll see if Tomás can join him for a while. It’s Saturday. The Pooch Park shouldn’t be as busy, and this... seems like kind of an emergency.”
A lump rises in my throat as I watch her shoot off a text. “You’ll stay? Are you sure?”
“I’m not going to leave you hanging with your apartment shredded,” she says gently, then eyeballs Rufus. “But I think I should stay for him as much as for you.”
I glance at the dog, who leans into her touch adoringly, tongue hanging out on one side.
My eyes burn when Lydia looks back at me. We’ve been through a lot over the course of our friendship, but I don’t think I’ve ever been more grateful to have her in my life. “Thank you. I—I need all the help I can get.”
You’ll be in over your head in less than twenty-four hours.
Drew Forbes’s words invade my mind like a sneering I-told-you-so, souring my stomach. Rufus hops down from the bed and starts slurping from the water bowl, and I let myself sink to the mattress.
“Hey. We’ll figure this out.” Lydia sits beside me, pulling me in for a hug. “But I am curious... why did Theo bring him toyou?”
