Chapter 46
Chapter forty-six
Remy
I glance at my watch. Nine a.m. Erik is usually in his balcony seat overlooking the orchestra.
When I enter, he isn’t there.
That alone puts me on edge.
I take a seat in the back corner, hidden from view, and turn my thoughts back to Tianna. Of all the ways I imagined we might cross paths again, this was not one of them.
Meg slips in beside me and presses a card into my hand.
Louisiana SPCA.
I lift a brow.
“She’s talking about buying a house,” Meg says quietly. “And she keeps talking about the dog she’ll get. Someday. You know her. She’ll put it off, worried she’ll fail it.” She pauses. “But if a dog just happened to need her…”
The implication is clear. I grin.
“Thank you.”
“I try.”
A presence settles behind us.
“I can do this.”
Erik plucks the card from my hand.
I blink. “Do what?”
“Get her a dog.” He studies the card like it’s a contract. “I’m good with animals.”
Meg winces. “Since when?”
He looks genuinely offended. “How hard can it be? You feed them. You pat them. You give them a bone.”
“That is wildly incomplete,” Meg says.
“You two overthink everything.” He’s already pulling up the website. “There aren’t many. We should go now.”
He turns and strides off.
I scrub a hand over my face. “Thank you, Meg. I should probably go stop him before he adopts a wolf.”
Erik is waiting by my truck, still absorbed in his phone.
“They have goats,” he announces. “One is male. Named Billy. A shocking lack of imagination.”
“You aren’t considering a goat,” I say.
He looks genuinely affronted. “Of course not. Even I know they smell.”
We pull in, and he finally glances up from his phone.
“Let me handle this,” he says. “I know who I want to look at.”
I blink. “You do?”
“Yes.” He exhales, impatient with my doubt. “I’ve narrowed it down to two. Dewdrop and Raindrop. However, research indicates single-consonant names are preferable.”
“Really,” I say dryly. “You discovered this on the drive over.”
“Mm-hmm.” He’s already opening the truck door. “Short, punchy names are more effective. Similar to music. You don’t want a name that bogs down.”
“Okay, Cesar Milan.”
He pauses. “Who?”
“You just proved my point without realizing it.”
We head inside.
The woman at the reception desk looks up and smiles. “How can I help you?”
Erik steps forward and holds out his phone. “These two. I need to meet them.”
She leans back slightly, her smile faltering just a touch. “All right. Let me pull their files. Did you want to look at anyone else, or just those two?”
“Just Raindrop and Dewdrop,” Erik says, impatience creeping in.
I lean around him. “Hi. Sorry. While you’re doing that, is there paperwork we should fill out? Or anything you need from us?”
Erik turns toward me, already forming an objection, so I keep going.
“We’re applying to adopt,” I say evenly. “If it’s the right fit for both us and the dog.”
My head nods once, involuntarily, toward him.
He frowns, clearly confused. “If we don’t adopt the dog, it remains here. Becomes increasingly despondent. This is essentially dog jail. Why would—”
I smile at the woman. “We’ll just be right over there,” I say, gesturing toward the chairs.
She nods, relief clear, and disappears with the files.
Erik watches her go, then looks at me. “You are overcomplicating this.”
“Welcome to adoption,” I tell him quietly. “Try not to get us banned.”
“And don’t complicate this by telling them it’s a gift,” I add under my breath. “They frown on that.”
Another volunteer guides us into a greeting room. I hand over the clipboard proving we are responsible, tax-paying citizens with an address that allows us to make decisions like this.
As we wait, Erik looks around, nostrils flaring. “I smell urine. Are they not trained?”
“Probably not all of them,” I say. “It could be nerves.”
He surveys the toys and the jar of treats. “They deserve better. I am confident Christianna will spoil the dog. I also read that many women treat dogs like their children. This may help her maternal instincts.”
I shake my head as a pit mix pulls eagerly toward the door. White and gray. Tongue lolling. Tail wagging with reckless joy.
“That is Raindrop,” Erik says. “Dewdrop is red and looks sad. As if he has been kicked. I hoped they would bring him first. Although this one appears undernourished as well.”
Raindrop bursts into the room, pure enthusiasm, wiggling hard enough his whole body sways. His hip bones jut sharply beneath his coat, a discordant note against his joy.
Before I can stop myself, the words are out. “We’ll take him. He’s perfect.”
Erik shoots me a look. “We cannot decide until we meet Dewdrop.”
The volunteer glances between us. “Dewdrop does better with Raindrop present. He’s more comfortable that way. He’s shy.”
“Bring him,” Erik says.
“Please,” I add quickly, cutting him a look.
She gives a nervous smile. “I’ll be right back.”
Raindrop wedges himself between my legs, licking enthusiastically. I scratch behind his ears. We are not leaving without him.
The volunteer returns slowly, coaxing a red pit mix forward. Dewdrop’s ribs show just as clearly. His eyes are wide, whites visible as he scans the room, steps hesitant and unsure.
“He needs her,” Erik murmurs. “And she needs him. Christianna can give him a home. Make him feel safe.”
Erik stands, picks up Raindrop’s dropped leash, and opens the door. The moment Dewdrop sees his friend, he rushes forward, ignoring us completely. He learned early that not all people are good.
I look at the volunteer. “We’ll take them both.”