Page 7 of For You & No One Else (Say Everything 3)

“I’ll just grab us some takeout so we don’t risk being too late for you to take your time at the shelter.” He reached for the car handle. “You’re good with lo mein, or do you want something different?”

“I’m good with that.” She grabbed her purse from the floorboard behind him. “Here, let me give you—”

He shook his head. “I got it.”

“Beck—”

“Keep your money. It’s Chinese food. It’s not going to break the bank.”

She pressed her lips together like she was going to protest but then nodded. “Thanks. Next time, lunch is on me.”

Next time.

He needed to make sure there was no next time.

***

The animal shelter was decked out in festive red-and-green garland, and they had signs up advertising their holiday adoption event. Eliza waited at the front counter while the receptionist, Beverly, an older Black woman wearing a pair of felt reindeer antlers, looked up Eliza’s old application and checked the computer to see if puppies were available. Eliza was trying to stay quiet to let the woman do her job, but the raucous chorus of barking was overwhelming her a bit. She didn’t want to think about all of the animals needing families. She’d end up taking home ten of them if she wasn’t careful.

Beckham had wandered a few feet away and was sitting on a bench next to a glass-walled room labeledCat Play Zone. There was a couple inside with a little girl who was on the floor, trying to coax one of the cats to play with a little feather on a string.

“I’m afraid we’re cleared out of puppies,” Beverly said, dragging Eliza’s attention back to her. “They’re a hot commodity at Christmastime.”

Eliza frowned, inwardly cursing. This was why chasing whims didn’t work. Had she done her research ahead of time, made a plan… “Oh, no. Well, I mean I guess that’s good. That they found homes. But ‘oh, no’ for me.”

Beverly smiled. “Have you considered an adult dog? We have a lot of great ones here that need homes, and they’re usually already housebroken. Puppies are a lot of work, and I noticed on your form that you’re single and don’t work from home. You can’t leave a puppy home alone for very long.”

Eliza tried not to bristle at the wordsinglebeing used as a reason why she couldn’t have what she came here for. That was what had squashed this plan the last time. She didn’t think Beverly had meant it that way, but still, it pushed a button that had already been worn out today. She fiddled with the pen she’d used to sign in, contemplating the idea of an older dog. She didn’t have anything against a full-grown dog, but she just couldn’t bear the thought of bringing home a new family member that only had a few years left. She didn’t want to invite another loss into her life. “I—”

“Molly, don’t open that!” Beverly said, her voice sharp and her attention no longer on Eliza.

Eliza turned to see what was going on. A young female volunteer in pink scrubs had her hand on the already opened door to the cat room, a startled expression on her face. She moved to shut the door, but a flash of black and white fur darted through the gap before she could and disappeared under the bench where Beckham was sitting.

Beverly groaned and hopped to her feet. “Jesus in a Jeep, here we go again. Trent,no!” She pointed at Beckham as she marched over. “Sir, lock the main door for me. Don’t let that little escape artist out.”

Beckham snapped to it—Beverly’s tone channeled school principals and drill sergeants—and he turned the lock on the entryway door so no one could get in or out.

Molly, the volunteer, was standing by the door of the cat room, shifting from foot to foot. “I’m so sorry, Ms. Beverly. I didn’t know he was in there.”

Beverly sighed a put-upon sigh and flicked a hand. “Never mind, it’s not your fault. I told them not to put Trent in there with that family. That little girl wants a cuddly, playful cat, and we know Trent ain’t that.”

As Beverly walked slowly toward the bench, the cat slipped out between the bench legs and made a beeline for the door, but Beckham was still there. Trent tucked himself into the spot right between Beckham’s Doc Martens, punctuating the maneuver with a loud meow.

“Don’t move, son,” Beverly instructed. “Stay still and keep him calm so I can catch him. Plus, if you startle him, he’ll bite. He’s still got a lot of alley cat in him.”

Beckham was pressed against the main door, his palms lifted like someone was holding him up at a bank, and he sent a what-the-hell-is-going-on look to Eliza. He looked adorably terrified. She bit her lip, trying not to laugh.

“All right, Trent, you’ve had your fun, mister,” Beverly said in a calm, quiet voice. “Time to go back to your cozy little kennel now.”

The cat arched and hissed when she took a step closer.

“Uh, maybe don’t come closer just yet.” Beckham looked down worriedly and moved his hands from their upright position to protecting his crotch. “I’d rather not be part of Trent’s revenge plot.”

Beverly paused about five feet from Beckham and Trent. “All right, let’s give him a minute and see if he wanders out from that spot.”

Eliza crouched down, trying to keep her movements slow. She made a low, kissing sound. “Hey, kitty, why don’t you come over here? It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Trent turned his head toward her and gave her the cat version of an eat-shit-and-die look.

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