38
LUKE
When Claire’s name pops up on my phone, I’m surprised by how excited I am. We had decided to stay in contact after the revelations we had in her office. But I didn’t expect to hear from her so soon.
I answer, though I’m at my desk: “Claire! Good to hear from you.”
“Hey, Luke, do you have a minute?”
“Yeah, of course.” Mom and I discussed having Claire come out to the house so she could meet Mom, and maybe go through some of the photo albums and things so she could get an idea of who her father was. It’s not a lot to offer, but it’s something.
Claire clears her throat. “Well, I’m sorry that things didn’t work out with you and Eleanor.”
I frown. I didn’t know us not working out was public knowledge. Hell, it’s not even knowledge to me. I’m still turning that stone over in my head, wondering and wavering. Each day that passes, I change my mind at least a dozen times. Which isn’t fair to Eleanor. She shouldn’t be kept waiting like that.
Why does Claire know anything about it? “Oh, yeah. Um, thanks.”
“So, I don’t normally do this, but Shortbread was really attached to her, and I think it might break his heart if he doesn’t get his forever home.”
I pause for a moment to collect my thoughts. “I’m . . . not sure I follow.”
“Eleanor told me she can no longer adopt him since she’s headed out of town.”
The record scratch is loud. More like a car crash. “She’s leaving town?!”
“Oh, man. I’m sorry, I thought this is something you would have worked out with her since—”
“Claire, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Well, Eleanor told me since things didn’t work out, she’s moving back to Chicago.”
No. No this can’t be it. This can’t be how it ends.
“She didn’t tell you?”
“We . . . haven’t been talking.” I’m a fucking embarrassment. A disgrace. “I didn’t know that she was leaving, though, I thought—”
“God, I’m sorry. I feel like a total jerk.”
I swallow hard, like there’s a lump of wet newspaper traveling down my throat. “No, you didn’t know, how could you have?” I rub a hand over my face. “Um, but Shortbread. You were calling about Shortbread.”
“Yeah, well, I thought maybe you’d be interested in adopting him.”
I glance out the window of my office. I’d never considered having a pet. I’m too busy. I’d need a dog walker, and I’d probably want to be home more frequently because the poor guy shouldn’t be alone too much.
“Like I said,” Claire interrupts when my hesitance is too long. “I don’t normally do this kind of thing. But since we’re—” she cuts herself off with a laugh. “I don’t know, it’s all kind of topsy turvy. I thought I’d ask. There is no pressure to—”
The answer comes out of me like the starting gun of a race. “I’ll do it.”
* * *
Claire hands me the leash. “All yours.”
I take it, looking down at the dog beside me. Shortbread looks up at me, panting hard with his tongue hanging out.
There wasn’t a decision that had to be made. It was instantaneous. No way was I going to let this dog be disappointed. What would be the point of us both missing Eleanor separately if we could be together?
So, the second I was done with my work for the day, I rushed out here to Harmony Hounds.
“What do you think, Shortie?” I ask. “Pretty cool, huh?”
Shortbread licks my hand.
I smile.
Claire crosses her arms. “You can change his name if you want. Might take him some time to adjust, but . . .”
“We’ll think of something.”
She smiles. “You’re a saint, you know that?”
I give her a double take. “No, not a saint.” If only you knew the truth.
“I know it killed Eleanor to have to change her mind,” Claire says, her voice soft.
“Yeah, well.”
Her forehead creases. “You want to talk about it?”
I shrug a shoulder. “There’s nothing to talk about.” Not really. Eleanor’s made the choice. It’s only fair after I’ve ghosted her for this long.
“You two were cute together,” Claire says as if it’s a consolation.
“Don’t remind me.”
“Ah, Luke.”
I try to smile. Our eyes meet. Reflections. “God, it’s still weird,” I laugh.
“I know, I’m still getting over the family resemblance myself.” Claire nods toward the door. “I’ll walk you out.”
The walk to my car is quiet. Shortbread is more excited than he knows what to do with, yanking on the leash and jumping. He keeps looking back to me as we go as if he can’t believe it.
I’m a dad. A fur dad, but still.
I didn’t think I’d be doing this alone, but I’m gonna need all the help I can get as I process how my life has flipped upside down today.
I open the back door for Shortbread and let him leap inside.
“You mind if I ask what happened?” Claire prods.
“You can ask, but I’m not sure I have good answers,” I say, my eyes falling to my shoes.
“Is it because of me?”
“What?!”
“I don’t know, this is all a lot of drama. Maybe it was too much for her, or . . . I don’t know.”
I sigh. “No, Claire. It’s nothing to do with you and everything to do with me.” I glance out at the open landscape beyond the animal sanctuary.
“You love her?” she asks.
I don’t reply.
“I’m your sister, it’s my job to hold you accountable to your feelings.”
I laugh.
Claire does too. “I know, sounds weird. I don’t have to call myself that.”
“No, that’s what you are.”
She smiles. Says nothing. Waits for my answer.
I nod once. “Yeah, I love her.”
“Then don’t be an idiot.” She points a finger in my face.
“Damn, you sure you don’t have siblings? Because you’ve got the conversation down pat.”
Claire puts her hands in the air. “What can I say? I’ve always wanted an idiot brother.”
I laugh and watch her walk back into the sanctuary. We exchange a laugh just before she disappears inside.
Once I get into the car, Shortbread sticks his head in between the seats and lick my cheek. “Okay, buddy, no distractions while I’m driving.” I give him some well-earned chin scratches. “You’re so cute.”
It was supposed to be the two of us taking Shortbread home. I pictured it. Me driving while Eleanor lavished him with affection. This is her dog.
God, what the fuck is going on with us? I know I’m partly to blame, but is she really just going to walk out on our life together, on her life in Austin, without even saying anything?
“Goddammit,” I say.
Shortbread rests his head on my shoulder.
“I guess I have someone to talk to other than myself now,” I say.
He nuzzles harder.
“Maybe . . . should we call her?”
Shortbread looks at me, his ear flopping to the side in an attempt to understand.
That’s as good of an answer as any.
I navigate to our last conversation on my phone and pause on her last message. It was sent a couple days ago.
I hope you’re okay. I wish you’d talk to me .
“Yeah, maybe not, bud.” I turn off the screen and drop my phone in the cupholder.
I’ve had so many chances to change this outcome. I shouldn’t be surprised. And I shouldn’t be hurt. I don’t deserve to have any emotions other than acceptance. Eleanor has made her decision.
My heartbreak is my own damn fault.