35. Timothy
Chapter thirty-five
Timothy
Then Jenna opens her front door, and nine pounds of dog launches himself at my legs.
“There he is.” I drop to one knee.
Reggie crashes into me, paws scrambling against my jacket as he tries to reach my face. I scoop him up, and he attacks my chin with frantic kisses.
“Hey, buddy.”
His collar jingles beside my ear.
“You could have told me,” I say over his head.
Jenna leans against the open door. “I sent you a message.”
“Four days late.”
“I did not know you spent four days imagining him being raised by strangers in another state.”
“I did not think another state. I just didn’t know.”
Jenna’s expression changes.
Some of the challenge leaves her face. “I know.”
Reggie squirms until I set him down. The second his paws hit the floor, he runs three frantic circles around my legs, catches sight of something behind me, and bolts through the house.
Jenna shuts the door behind me. “I have a meeting in twenty minutes.”
“You work from home.”
“That does not mean my clients stop existing when you appear.”
Reggie comes running from the hallway with a sock in his mouth.
Jenna points. “Drop it.”
He runs faster.
“This is much funnier when it isn't my sock,” I say.
I catch Reggie as he circles the coffee table.
He twists in my arms, sock clenched between his teeth.
“Trade,” Jenna says.
She tosses me a small treat. I hold it near his nose. Reggie considers his options. The sock falls. I hand him the treat.
Jenna takes the sock and throws it onto a shelf.
Then she looks at me.
“Are you going to stand there until my meeting starts?”
“That was the plan. I came to see Reggie.”
The puppy sits on my shoe and looks up at me.
Jenna folds her arms.
“And?”
I scratch behind his ears.
“And nothing.”
“Tim.”
I keep my attention on the dog. Reggie noses my palm. I lower myself onto the couch.
He climbs into my lap without waiting for permission, circles twice, then settles against my stomach as though he has been doing it every day.
My throat tightens.
Jenna sits in the chair across from me.
“I hoped this would make it easier,” she says.
I stare down at Reggie.
“That’s what your text said.”
“Bethany thought keeping him close would help.”
“Bethany thought a lot of things would be easier if she decided them for me.”
Jenna’s mouth tightens, but I ignore her.
Reggie rolls onto his back. I rub the soft fur on his stomach. He is happy here. Bethany was right.
“I’m glad it was you,” I say.
Jenna’s expression softens.
“Me too.”
“I still should have been included.”
“Yes.”
I look toward the expensive bed.
“I would have argued.”
“Obviously.”
“I would have asked for more time.”
“Also obvious.”
“But I would have said yes eventually.”
Because this is better for him.
Reggie has a yard, someone home all day, and a woman who paid eleven dollars to put an aristocratic title on his collar.
Jenna watches me rub Reggie’s chest.
“Are you still angry with her?”
“Yes.”
The answer comes easily.
I look down at Reggie.
He lifts his head and looks toward Jenna.
His tail taps once against my leg.
He remembers me.
He loves me.
He also belongs here.
Maybe choosing someone means telling them what you want and trusting them to decide what they want too.
That is what I failed to do with Bethany.
“The rink is finished,” I say.
Jenna waits.
“The daily work is over. She stepped away from the maintenance contract.”
“She told me.”
“There is no reason she has to come back to Hockey House.”
“No.”
The certainty forms slowly.
“So if I ask her to come back now, there can’t be any confusion.”
“About what?”
“That I want her there.”
“You should use more sentences like that when you talk to Bethany.”
The idea begins to take hold.
She deserves to hear that I love her.
But there is something the rest of us owe her too.
The restored rink.
Bethany’s rink.
She coordinated repairs, tracked costs, found contractors, and dragged five hockey players into actual work.
She turned fifteen years of neglect into something we could use.
Then the project ended, and all she received was a completed inspection and fewer reasons to come back.
“What?” Jenna asks.
I realize I have been staring at the wall.
“The rink needs a ceremony.”
“Didn’t it already pass inspection?”
“That is not an official event.”
Jenna studies me.
“What kind of event?”
“I don’t know yet. But Bethany should be recognized."
The certainty grows as I say it.
Not as my girlfriend. Not as the woman I want back.
As the person who made it happen.
Her contribution should exist whether she forgives me or not.
“She should see what she built,” I say. “What it means to everyone.”
“And then I tell her the truth. That I love her. That I wanted her to stay. That I was scared.”
Jenna nods. Her laptop chimes from the dining table. She glances toward it.
“My meeting.”
I lift Reggie carefully from my lap, and set him on the rug.
He follows me to the door. I kneel and hold his face between my hands.
“I’ll come back.”
His tail thumps.
I stand.
Jenna has already opened her laptop.
“Jenna.”
She looks up.
“Thank you.”