Chapter Ten
Barrett’s heart was a ridiculous, betraying creature.
Every single time, without fail, that Oscar looked back to check she was still there and then immediately also checked that Iris was with them, her heart clenched, her insides turning soft and mushy.
And not just because, with only one eye, he had to turn his whole body to check on two people, running in a little circle and wagging his tail when he was content that they were, in fact, both still with him.
Although, who he thought was holding his leash if it wasn’t Barrett, she had no idea.
She’d noticed how attentive Oscar had been to Iris lately. Of course she had. She’d been no less attentive herself. They were, apparently, both suckers for her.
Iris had been through something terrible.
Sure, running into someone at a bar wasn’t terrible.
Worse when it was your ex, though. And worse still when your friend was dating said ex.
But it wasn’t just about that night. Not for one second had Barrett expected her to walk into work and feel completely normal the very next day.
However, the weeks of emotional shutdown, while understandable, were starting to worry her.
Iris was still competent to a fault at work.
She held it together enough for Penn to seemingly not notice anything was wrong.
She was so perfectly and painfully put together.
And Barrett hated it, because under all of that, she could see how much Iris was struggling.
She wasn’t really in a position to do anything to help, not properly.
They were colleagues, and Iris so clearly didn’t want to talk about or acknowledge it.
So, Barrett was doing what she could while keeping her distance. Oscar was a helpful proxy.
Of course, she was now pushing that, but Iris was here, walking beside her and looking at the city like she hadn’t seen it in months. Barrett hated Natasha for everything she’d stolen from Iris—now and in the past.
In her peripheral vision, she saw Iris smile at Oscar as he turned to check on them both again. If the only helpful thing Barrett could do for her was share that perfect little fluff bucket, she’d forever be happy to do so.
“Do you know what happened to his other eye?” Iris asked quietly, not looking at Barrett.
“Not a clue. I know it was in a bad way when they found him and they couldn’t save it, but they couldn’t tell me what happened.
He’s a bit edgy around guys who look a certain way, though, so, whether the eye is connected to that or not, I have a pretty good idea of what his previous…
owner looks like.” Barrett didn’t like to think about what Oscar had gone through before he was rescued and eventually found his way to her.
She knew it was bad, and she knew he was doing remarkably well now, but it never should have happened in the first place.
“He recovered. And, now, he’s happy.” Iris’ words were weighty, and Barrett didn’t have to ask why.
She smiled. “Yes, and I endeavor to keep him that way. Whatever the little guy wants, he gets, pretty much.”
Iris glanced at her, her serious expression relaxing. “Do you think that’s going to get you in trouble one day?”
“No. He’s earned it. And he’s about twenty pounds soaking wet, what’s he going to do?”
“Oh, I don’t know, steal your bed, take all your food…”
Barrett laughed. “No worries there, princess. He hates being left in bed alone—even if I’m just running to the bathroom. As for food, I order him this super pretentious, fresh dog food. He’s eating better than me some nights.”
Iris’ brow puckered as she studied Barrett. “That’s not what I would have expected from you, you know?”
“After seeing me bring my dog to work every day and pamper him to within an inch of his life, you didn’t expect me to order him bougie dog food?”
“Well,” Iris amended, a smile spreading across her face, “I guess, now I expect it, but when we first met? Not at all.”
“Because the first impression I give is of someone who hates dogs and happiness?” She glared comically, really trying to sell the act.
“No,” Iris breathed, and it was so very close to a laugh that Barrett nearly leapt into the air in celebration. “I don’t know, I guess I’d just have pictured you with like… a doberman that you run with every morning, or something.”
Barrett laughed, but became serious when she shrugged and looked down at Oscar, who stopped to sniff a tree. “I went to the shelter and asked to meet everyone they were struggling to place. They introduced the two of us, and that was it. I knew he was coming home with me.”
“You weren’t concerned about age or medical conditions or… past trauma?”
“No. Not in the way that it would stop me adopting him. I was concerned, of course, but for him. I just wanted to know what I could do to make his life better.”
“You’re good at doing that for people, I think.”
Barrett felt like she was glowing. That had to mean Iris was glad of the little things Barrett had been doing for her.
Sure, bringing her drinks and froyo and asking her to come for a walk weren’t going to change the world, but if they made her world a tiny bit brighter, that was all that mattered.
And, given that Iris was giving her approval, Barrett was happy to keep doing all those little things for as long as she’d allow it.
“Here,” Barrett said, holding out Oscar’s leash to Iris. “I’ll be back in a second.”
“Oh.” Iris took the leash automatically, but clearly hadn’t been expecting Barrett’s response to be dashing off.
“This is his favorite pizza place,” she called over her shoulder.
In truth, Oscar’s favorite pizza place was any pizza place Barrett went to. He didn’t eat the pizzas. He just liked the experience, and all of the people cooing over his gorgeous little face.
Not wishing to push her luck too far, Barrett hesitated inside the door. Did she get one piece and assume Iris would be okay sharing? Or, did she make it abundantly clear what she was doing, get two slices, and worry a whole slice was too much pressure?
If she got one and Iris wanted some but wouldn’t share, she could offer to get a second. That was preferable to pressuring her with a whole slice. Not that Barrett couldn’t eat two slices without assistance. It was just about the optics.
When she’d been given a paper plate with one large slice on it, she headed back outside. Sure enough, Oscar had made a friend. Iris had not.
She looked relieved when Barrett reappeared, and when she looked at the single slice of pizza. Barrett would be riding that high for weeks.
“Are dogs allowed to eat pizza?” Iris asked quietly. “I think I read something about alliums being toxic to them.”
Barrett grinned. “They are. I’m not giving him any of this. Maybe he’d be fine with just a bit, but being so small and given what he’s already been through, I haven’t got any interest in testing that out.”
“But… you said it’s his favorite pizzeria?”
“Every pizza place is his favorite. Every place is his favorite.” She nodded to where Oscar had rolled onto his back and was receiving pets from the couple he’d attracted.
“They asked permission before they touched him,” Iris said, alarmed, as if she was just realizing she’d given people permission to touch a dog that wasn’t hers.
“If you hadn’t given it, I don’t think he’d have cared—or let them leave without stroking him. He loves the attention.”
Iris sighed, her shoulders dropping again. “We do not have that in common.”
“Interestingly,” she said around a bite of pizza, “I have noticed that about you, princess.”
“Right.”
When nothing else seemed forthcoming, Barrett leaned on the wall and made a show of how delicious the pizza was. She’d eaten here before and it was good, but she really hammed it up, ensuring it seemed like she was so overcome by the food that she couldn’t possibly refrain from offering Iris some.
Iris eyed her warily. “I know what you’re doing.”
“Enjoying a delicious pizza?” Barrett shot back with a grin.
“Not that.”
“Do you want to try some? It really might be the best pizza in the city.”
Even through her apprehension, that garnered a smile and a shake of the head that suggested everything was going to be okay.
After a moment, in which Barrett took another bite and made an almost obscene show of how good it was—to the point that the couple stroking Oscar shot each other looks and practically ran into the store—Iris nodded sharply. “Fine. But we should walk. I’m sure Oscar’s getting bored.”
It wasn’t that and they both knew it. Just as they both knew what Barrett was doing. But that was okay. Maybe Iris wasn’t ready to talk about it, but it wasn’t deceit when they were both perfectly clear on what was happening. They could get to the talking later, whenever she felt ready.
Barrett took Oscar’s leash back, a move that made handing the slice to Iris remarkably easy. Of course she could juggle the two with ease, but they simply swapped, and it made sense. And, as they walked on, Iris glanced furtively around before taking a bite. It was small, but it was something.
When Iris immediately handed it back to Barrett, she took it without complaint or comment, casting around for a different topic of conversation.
“Why New York?” she asked Iris, genuinely curious. Despite how long they’d worked together now, Iris had been remarkably private about anything before Burrow and everything outside it.
“Why not New York?” Iris shot back, covering her mouth with her hand as she swallowed.
“Good point,” Barrett laughed. “So, you always knew you wanted to be here? You’re not from here, right?” She was fairly certain Iris had mentioned something along those lines once.
“No, I’m not, but I always loved it. The architecture, the bustle, how alive it feels, so I always knew I was coming here in the end.”
“Did you come for college?”
Iris groaned, pulling her shoulders in tight. “No.”