Page 133 of Men or Paws
“It’s a miracle!” said the man selling dog and cat beds, straightening out some accessories and brochures on his table in anticipation.
Someone must have figured out a way to get the word out about the venue change. Before long, there were at least a thousand people there, probably more, bombarding each and every booth and the pet adoption area. A line even formed to buy my dog treats. I couldn’t take the money fast enough to keep up with it. What a wonderful problem to have.
I shook my head and handed a dog treat to the next customer in line. The sound of people enjoying themselves, the laughter that rang all around, the animals craving the much-needed attention, was like a tonic to my aching heart.
“This is amazing,” I said. “Where did all these people come from? They just magically showed up.”
“You didn’t hear?” The man grinned. “Rocco Romano was on the radio saying he’d be here in person to take pictures and sign autographs with anyone who makes a purchase, donates, or adopts a pet.”
“Rocco Romano?” I barely got the words out in a whisper.
It couldn’t have been a coincidence he was here to help. No way.
Rocco was being Rocco again.
Kind. Generous. Irresistible.
My eyes began to burn. I blinked to keep the tears at bay, but it didn’t work. Wiping my eyes with the back of my hand, I reached for another wrapped treat for the next customer, trying to pull myself together.
The man nodded. “I know, crazy, right? I can’t believe it.”
I searched the crowd for a glimpse of Rocco, but didn’t see him.
My heart rate fluttered at the thought of seeing him again.
“I wonder if he’d consider taking off his shirt for the picture with me,” said a woman in line. “I want to touch those abs.” She laughed.
“Hey, is that him?” another woman yelled.
We all jerked our heads in that direction.
“No way,” a man said. “Rocco is much taller than that guy.”
I still couldn’t believe he’d gotten all these people to show up.
Actually, I took that back.
It was exactly what I would’ve expected from someone with a big heart.
But why would he have done this after I had walked out on him?
He’d chosen Italy, not me.
That was the part I didn’t understand.
There were a thousand charities he could have helped.
The hopeless romantic in me hoped he’d had a change of heart about us and would show up wearing the lavender polo I had given him, but maybe that was a dream that I needed to bury, once and for all.
Suddenly, people started cheering.
Then they were running toward the street.
The screams were almost deafening, like there was a rock star coming onto the stage in front of thousands of rabid teenage fans.
“He’s here!” a woman squealed, pushing people out of her way to get closer.
I pulled my chair out from underneath the canopy of my booth and stood on it, straining to see what everyone was coming unhinged about.
