52
M icki and I hold hands as we wait for the verdict. The MC starts in fifth place and makes his way up.
“And finally—in an upset no one saw coming—a tie to be settled between Jessie the wheaten terrier and Captain Spots von Puppington, the, um, beagle mix. What’s he mixed with anyway? A robot?” He laughs self-indulgently at his own quip.
“How does that guy live with himself?” Micki mutters at my side before joining the chorus of cheering and applause.
“What does this mean?” I ask, my pulse racing. On the one hand, we’re still in it, but on the other, Jessie is clearly a trained pooch. If this pageant was scored traditionally, Cap wouldn’t stand a chance. Fortunately for him, crowd enthusiasm seems to have carried him through.
I look to Leo on the stage, side by side with Jessie’s handler. He looks as confused as I feel, and when our eyes meet, he shrugs.
“Folks, we’re going to let all the dogs have a short break before we crown our champion,” the MC says. “The tiebreaker will be the ultimate game of fetch. Each dog must retrieve five balls shot out of this here ball machine. Winner takes all.”
Cap knows fetch. It’s the game he loves most. He’s never done it with Leo, though.
“I have to get down there,” I tell Micki. “I know Cap better.” Another idea strikes. “There are capes at the booth, right? Can you go get one?”
“On it.”
We push our way through the still-seated audience, but when Micki heads outside, I set a course for backstage.
Leo and Cap are on their way out a back door when I get there, but Leo stops in his tracks when I call his name.
I slow and approach with some trepidation, not sure how to bridge the last few days in the right way.
“You’re here,” I say. “I mean, not here here, but you know… Although here here is also unexpected, I guess.” Stop talking, Cora. To hide my red cheeks, I squat down to greet Cap. He licks my face as I praise him for being such a good boy.
When I stand, a jumble of emotions is playing across Leo’s face. “I wanted to make it up to you. All of it—leaving, letting Cho out, being a jerk…”
I nod. “Yeah, this week has not been great.” Cap pulls toward the door, but Leo holds his leash tightly. I take my chance to ask the question most on my mind. “What about your dad?”
His jaw ticks. “We’ll see. But I talked to Mom through her assistant, so I know she’s on my side at least.”
“That’s great.” I shove my hands in my pockets but then take them out again. “Right?”
“Yeah.” He scratches his temple and motions toward me. “Cora…”
I hold my breath. “Yeah?”
“I came back to tell you—”
“Got it,” Micki calls, almost running into me. She shoves a blue-and-white cape into my arms before she bends at the waist, hands on thighs, panting for air. “Hey, there,” she says peering up at Leo. “Nice dance routine. Can I call you Mr. Robot from now on?”
The moment is gone. I’m going to have a talk with Micki about her timing.
“Very funny.” Leo presses his lips together. “Honestly, I’m not sure what happened up there.” He nods toward the stage. “I think I blacked out when he refused to sit. I really hope he’ll fetch for me.”
“No, no. I’m taking over.” I drape the cape over Cap. “You got us this far, but he knows me better.”
“Of course.” Leo hands me the leash. “Not to get ahead of myself or anything, but thanks for saying us .”
“Five minutes,” the MC calls over the speakers.
I let out a sharp breath.
“We’ll talk after?” Leo asks, intent on me.
The belly butterflies I torched earlier this week rise from the ashes like tiny phoenixes. “Yes.”
He nods. Then, after a moment’s hesitation, he leans forward and kisses my cheek. “Break a leg.”
“This is it,” I tell Cap at the edge of the arena. I rub his flanks and adjust the cape. “You look very snazzy. Like a winner. Okay?”
He pants, tongue hanging out. If he understands, he’s not letting on.
“The ball machine will shoot one ball at a time,” the MC announces in a voice that brings to mind Super Bowl commentary. “Each dog will be timed from launch to retrieve, and an average of the five rounds will be calculated for each. Are we ready?” He looks from the other handler to me, lowering the microphone. “Who are you?”
I make myself as tall as I can. “Cap’s owner. I was in the original paperwork.”
For a moment, it looks like he might protest, but then he shrugs and raises his arm in the air. “Cue music.”
Jessie is a fantastic dog, and she runs like the wind after the first three balls. Cap isn’t bad, either, his awkward gallop surprisingly speedy today. The cape flies behind him, creating exactly the kind of eye-catching effect I intended.
“A dog with many names already, but I think we might need to give him another after this,” the MC says. “He’s like a tiny Captain America with his superhero cape. Marvel -ous. See what I did there?”
The crowd forgives the terrible dad joke and seems to agree. I don’t want to get my hopes up, but surely they cheer louder for Cap than for Jessie?
At the fourth ball, Cap is swept up in the general elation rising toward the ceiling and does an extra lap before returning to me. The prize money takes wings in my mind, fluttering away, but as I find Leo in the audience and see his grin, I’m reminded that giving up isn’t an option.
“What’s that?” the MC asks, pretending to hear something in a nonexistent earpiece. “It’s practically a tie again, you say? Well, we can’t have that. Let’s hear it from our fabulous audience—who are you rooting for today?”
“One left,” I tell Cap. “You’re such a good boy.”
Around us, the audience chants.
Jessie’s final ball shoots out of the canon, but this time, she doesn’t move.
“Come on, girl,” her owner cajoles. “Last one.”
Jessie pants, clearly exhausted, but with the promise of a treat, she takes off again and returns seconds later with the ball.
“Come on, Captain America!” the MC shouts. “This is it.”
I have time to think the guy isn’t exactly being impartial, but then the ball goes flying, and so does Cap. I jump up and down as he races, faster than I’ve ever seen him go, the cape like a sail behind him.
“Cap! Cap! Cap!” rises from the audience.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” the MC narrates. “Don’t judge a book by its cover, folks, that’s all I have to say. Here he comes. Whoo—and the final ball is in. What. A. Show.”
Cap jumps into my arms, as riled up as I am, his little heart pounding against his ribs.
“You did so good,” I say with a laugh. I hug and squeeze him, craning my neck to get away from the sloppiest kisses. “Here, let’s get some water in you.”
“We’re going to take a minute to do the math. Don’t go anywhere,” the MC says.
A couple of people in volunteer vests show him their notes in a brief deliberation. One of them hands him a blue ribbon.
“Will the two finalists please join me onstage?” The MC makes his way up the stairs while a jolly Santa lumbers up the steps stage left carrying an oversized check.
The audience has sat back down, but Micki and Leo are still standing. So are two other figures on the opposite side. Diane and Dawn wave to me.
The MC starts by thanking all the participants today, and the sponsors who make the show possible. “These two dogs are both champions in their own way,” he says. “But only one can take home the grand prize of fifteen thousand dollars.”
The crowd claps, randomly at first and then in a steady, united rhythm that drives excitement to new levels. Clap. Clap. Clap, clap, clap.
“Today,” the MC says, his voice reverberating over the speaker system, “the winner of our annual Winter Fest’s dog show is…” He looks from Jessie to Cap, pausing to further heighten the suspense. “None other than Captain Spots von Puppington!”
The audience erupts, and my whole body goes numb. All sound disappears, and I’m only vaguely aware of Micki pushing through the crowd and running toward me, Leo on her heels.
“Well deserved. Ho ho ho,” Santa says, handing me the oversized check. There are flashes going off, and someone attaching the ribbon to Cap’s collar, but my mind is still blank.
“You did it!” Micki hollers, body slamming me into a bear hug. “You fucking won!”
Finally, my senses start working again. “We won,” I mumble, shaking my head. Then louder, “We won.” Happy Paws is safe for now.
Leo steps onto the stage, a wide grin stretching ear to ear. Well done , he mouths, sauntering toward me.
A giggle trills up my throat. Because it’s true. But while I do acknowledge that I brought it home on the final stretch, none of this would have been possible without him.
I hand Micki the check, and half walk, half run straight into Leo’s arms. I don’t care that we’re on a stage or that I should possibly still be mad at him—I only know I need to kiss him.
His lips are soft and inviting, as hungry for me as I am for him. A low grunt escapes him when I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him even closer, and he responds quickly, lifting me so I can wrap my legs around his waist. He might have to carry me home like this.
“Get a room, people,” Micki teases a few yards away.
After one last smooch, I reluctantly pull back, but only so far that our foreheads still touch. “Hi.”
“Hi.” His hands flex against my jean-clad bottom.
I bite my lip to stifle the elation floating inside me. “Seems like we won.”
“Never doubted you would.”
“We,” I correct him.
“Agree to disagree.” He smirks.
“Come on. You danced and everything. On a stage.”
He rubs the tip of his nose against mine. A soft stroke that sends shock waves all the way to my toes. “Cap won. That’s as far as I’m willing to go.”
“Fine.” I press my lips to his again and linger there for an extended moment that holds all of the past few months, good and bad. Leo opening Canine King, training, lunch with his aunts, Cholula and Tilly going nuts together, his dad, my parents, Halloween night, my birthday…
He sets me down but doesn’t let go of my hands. For a long while, we just look at each other, oblivious to anything and everything around us.
“What did you come back to tell me?” I ask eventually. “Micki interrupted you earlier.” As I say the words, there’s a pinprick of fear deep within that it’s going to be bad news. He’s taken the job. He’s leaving. But it’s gone as soon as his fingers tighten around mine.
He clears his throat. “I came home to tell you that I’m sorry. So sorry. I made a huge mistake, and I’m not going anywhere. Because…” His lips curve up. “I love you. Very much. And I don’t want to be anywhere you’re not.”
My knees tremble, but I still push myself up to kiss him again. And again. If it wasn’t a lie, I’d say I don’t even care about the prize money in this moment, but more than that, I’m plain happy. Happier than I’ve ever been before because, for the first time in forever, things are looking up.
“I will make it up to you, I promise,” Leo mumbles near my ear. “This whole past week. My stupidity.”
I push away from him. “You don’t think you already did that today?”
He shakes his head. “Not nearly enough.”
“You did plenty.”
He laughs. “Another fight? Bring it on. It’s what we’ve always done best.”
“I don’t know about that.” I thread my fingers with his and bring them to my lips.
His eyes darken and glimmer. “I really do love you,” he says, letting his thumb caress my cheek.
“I know.” I lean into his hand. “I love you, too.”