Chapter 11
ELEVEN
REX
The kiss I never indulged in lingered in my mind, rapidly forming into a regret that I wasn’t allowed to have.
Perry was already doing me a huge favor, and sure, it came with strings, but those strings definitely didn’t include kissing him.
The date was real, but the relationship wasn’t and that was a hard thing for my brain to wrap itself around.
I shouldn’t be obsessing about it the way I was, but the moment had been perfect. The night had been quiet and still, like it was holding its breath, waiting for me to make a move. And I tried not to think of the look on Perry’s face because it was perilously close to looking like disappointment.
Besides, even if I’d kissed him, it was unlikely that Perry would want to be my boyfriend for real.
No one wanted to be with a man who frequently put animals above everyone else.
Case in point, I’d just texted my brother to meet me at the vet clinic for Sunday morning coffee instead of the diner that we’d agreed on because I’d gotten an emergency patient the night before, and I was still at work, monitoring the Smiths’ precious Persian.
When I let Nigel in, he’d brought with him a couple cups of coffee and a bag containing breakfast. Danish, my dachshund cross, followed Nigel faithfully as we trekked back to my office.
Danish loved Nigel almost as much as he loved the little bits of breakfast Nigel would sneak him when he thought I wasn’t looking.
“Please say you didn’t sleep here.” Nigel wrinkled his nose but more out of worry than disgust.
“Then I won’t say it,” I said, plucking the coffee from his grasp. “What’s in the bag? I’m half starved.”
Nigel set the bag down on the desk. “Breakfast sandwiches from Bennett’s,” he said as he dug into the bag and handed me a carefully wrapped sausage and egg sandwich.
“Hell, yes. You do love me.”
Nigel sat down in the chair opposite my desk and looked around at my office as Danish sat near his feet, whining quietly from time to time.
I knew what Nigel was thinking. My office was too small, too cluttered, not modern enough.
I made do with what I had, which meant I had an old teacher’s desk that I’d purchased for cheap after the closure of a local elementary school.
The paint on the walls was chipped in a few places and could use a touchup, but they were only walls.
They were doing their job just fine, chipped paint or not.
The one indulgence I’d made was my chair. It had cost me a mint, but it was comfortable enough to recline and sleep in, so long as I didn’t do it too often.
“Your poor boyfriend must hate this place.”
Nigel hadn’t meant for the barb to hit as hard as it did, but it stung. Probably because it was accurate.
“Did you spend the whole weekend here again?” He tore off a small chunk of sausage and lowered it down for Danish to gobble up.
“Just last night and this morning.”
“You’re too soft. You’re allowed to have a life, you know.”
“I’m too soft, says the man who can’t say no to a greedy little dachshund. Besides, Nigel, I couldn’t say no. Pickles needed fluids and round-the-clock monitoring.”
“I just worry that you’re sacrificing your life for people’s housepets.”
Nigel loved animals, but he didn’t understand that I was willing to put myself second to put animals first. It wasn’t that he was selfish, he just had different priorities.
I think it was because of how he was raised.
Part of him must secretly feel like I’d sacrificed something to help Mom raise him.
But I hadn’t done anything I wasn’t willing to do.
“Pickles got a kid through chemo, Nigel. She’s more than just a housepet.”
He paled and had the decency to look sufficiently regretful.
“Besides, the right man would appreciate the work I do and embrace it.” Perry came to mind immediately, and I tried not to think too hard about the way he’d asked if I needed anything when he found out I was crashing at the clinic last night.
He didn’t ask if I was sure I had to or wanted to.
He just offered to bring me snacks. I’d told him I had a stash in my office drawer for just such an occasion.
Part of me had wanted him to stop by anyway, but in the end, it was better that he didn’t.
“And this boyfriend, do you think he’s the right kind of man?” Nigel took a bite of his sandwich, glancing down at Danish, who was still staring up at him with his big, hopeful eyes.
“I think so. I mean, Perry has a good heart. It’s still new, but time will tell, I guess.”
Nigel and I ate in a silence that felt heavy with unspoken things. The only sound was the intermittent whine from Danish, begging for another morsel from Nigel’s sandwich.
“I just worry about you,” Nigel said, balling up his napkin and tossing it in the bag. “I’m allowed to worry.”
“You are, and I promise that I’m fine. Any man worth having won’t begrudge me doing my best to save a thousand cats like Pickles.”
Nigel was quiet again, and I got the distinct impression that something was bothering him, but Nigel spoke before I could ask.
“You said the right man would appreciate your work.”
I nodded and waited for him to continue. It was obvious that he was going somewhere with this.
“How do you tell they’re the right man?”
I laughed gently, doing my best not to be too self-deprecating when I answered. “Have you met me? I’ve had a lot of trouble finding the right guy.”
“But you did find him. I mean, it seems to be going well between you two.”
To avoid coming up with a response to that specific statement, I shoved a bite of food into my mouth.
It was obvious Nigel was conflicted about something.
Maybe he was getting cold feet. If he called the wedding off, that would solve exactly none of my problems. Because, sure, I wouldn’t need a fake boyfriend anymore, but that was its own problem because I liked Perry.
Spending time with him had become the highlight of my week.
His texts had become the brightest spots in my day.
“It might not be easy to spot the right guy, but I have a bit of practice with the wrong ones. Sometimes, knowing what you don’t want is just as important as knowing what you do want.”
Nigel nodded thoughtfully, and I was saved by whatever he was going to say by my timer going off.
“I have to check on Pickles. Come with me.”
He followed me to the kennel room where Pickles had been made as comfortable as possible while she recovered from what I believed to be an unintended poisoning. It was clear to me that Pickles had come into contact with something that didn’t agree with cats.
Pickles looked better than when she’d come in, but I’d have to draw some blood and check her kidney function to make sure she had turned the corner. She hadn’t touched the food, but she’d drunk a little of the water, which gave me hope.
Pickles was an easy patient to work with, only mewing slightly when I did things she didn’t enjoy, like draw blood. Nigel watched from the sidelines, his hands tucked in his pockets.
“Did you want to hold her while I get this bloodwork started?” I’d invested in my own testing equipment so that I wouldn’t have to send every blood sample out to someone else. It made things faster for my patients. “She could use a bit of extra love.”
Nigel came over, and I gently put Pickles in his arms. She settled against him and started to purr almost instantly, even with the IV in, pumping her full of fluid to try and flush out her system.
“She really got someone through chemo?”
“Yeah. Her human is a twelve-year-old girl who is now in remission, and she thinks it’s entirely because of Pickles.”
Nigel let out a low whistle. “That’s a lot of pressure to put on Pickles. And you.”
“I do just fine.”
“Do you think I’m getting married too fast?
” he asked me. It wasn’t even out of the blue, not really.
I knew he’d wanted to talk about something when he suggested we get breakfast, and though I did my best not to guess, I didn’t exactly succeed.
I’d figured that he would have some pre-wedding jitters to sort through.
“I think only you can answer that. Some people get married within days of meeting each other and other people never get married, but stay together for a whole lifetime.”
Nigel scoffed. “You’re always so helpful.”
“Was that sarcasm? I can’t tell if you’re serious right now.”
“It was sarcasm. A bit. Maybe fifty-fifty. I mean… aren’t you supposed to have a bunch of opinions about my life?”
“Oh, I have opinions, believe me. I think your couch is hideous.”
Nigel gasped and pretended to cover Pickles’s ears. “My couch is glorious.”
“That’s not how you pronounce grotesque.”
“Harsh.” He frowned. “Tell me how you really feel.”
“See? That right there. You still love your couch, right? My opinion hasn’t swayed you at all? Not even a little? You don’t suddenly hate it?”
“No,” Nigel said, carefully combing his fingers through Pickles’s hair.
“And that’s entirely my point. I’m not the one sitting on your couch every day or paying for the space that it occupies. And I’m not the one planning a wedding and a future with your fiancé, so my opinions aren’t important.”
“Well… that’s not true. I wouldn’t ask you if I didn’t value your input.” Nigel gently put Pickles back into her kennel and shut the door, making sure it was secured. He frowned down at his shirt and attempted to brush the cat hair off himself.
“Come on. There’s a lint roller at the front.”
He followed me to the main reception area, and I grabbed one of the lint rollers we kept tucked away. “Pet hair is a hazard of the job. I don’t mind because I’m generally covered in pet hair anyway, but I still keep a few on hand for the staff.”
Danish padded along behind us, still staring up at his hero, Nigel. He was hoping for more treats, always convinced that people were holding out on him and if he looked away for a moment, he’d miss out.
Nigel used the lint roller and got most of the cat hair off his shirt.
“I swear cat hair becomes part of other surfaces. It magically welds itself to things.” He handed the lint roller back to me and took a moment to bend down and pet Danish, who was all too happy to absorb the affection from his favorite human.
“If you’re worried that you’re rushing into things, you could always postpone the wedding.”
Nigel shook his head. “I’m fine. Thanks for letting me hijack your morning.
” He straightened up and stuffed a hand in his pocket.
Pulling out his car key, it was his signal that he was about to make his excuse to leave.
“We should have breakfast again soon. Maybe you can introduce me to your boyfriend before the wedding.”
“Maybe. He works odd hours sometimes.”
“What does he do?”
My brain came to a crashing halt as I tried to think of what to tell Nigel.
Did Perry tell people he was a porn star?
Or was that information he kept to himself?
I didn’t want to lie to Nigel about him.
More lies wouldn’t help the situation, but before I could think of what to say, Nigel’s phone buzzed and he looked at it, then looked at me.
“I have to run, but we’ll do this again, right?”
“Absolutely.”
“Great, text me the next time your boyfriend is free, and we’ll do lunch or dinner or something.
” He headed for the front door and threw the lock to let himself out.
I locked the door behind him and let out a long, slow exhale.
Danish’s nails clicked as he walked back toward my office where his dog bed was.
No doubt he was going to have another sniff for any fallen crumbs, leaving me alone to watch Nigel get into his car and spend the next ten minutes sitting in the parking lot on his phone before eventually leaving.
When he was gone, I got back to work checking on Pickles and catching up on paperwork and not obsessing about Perry or planning our next date in my head.