27
ELEANOR
I’m nesting in a big way.
No, there are no baby carriages involved, and there aren’t wedding bells either. More like dog beds and kibble.
Since I moved into my new place, I’ve had heart-eyes at all my neighbors and their canine friends.
I’m closing in on the end of the job at the archive, a mere week left. And while I haven’t found a permanent position, I’ve got some small gigs lined up thanks to Luke. Those will tide me over.
But still, I’m looking at having lots of time on my hands. And what better way to spend it than taking care of my own little fur baby?
“I’m all for it,” Luke says as he sprinkles a pinch of salt into the pot of boiling deliciousness on the stove. The man is literally perfect. “If you’re ready that is.”
“Then you wouldn’t have to worry about me spending the night here alone.”
Luke’s eyebrows quirk as he stirs. “What are you talking about?”
I sidle up behind him and wrap my arms around his waist. “Baby, you’ve spent almost every night here since I moved in.”
“Because I’m obsessed with you, obviously.”
I laugh. “To your detriment, Luke. Be honest.”
He smacks the spoon on the side of the pot and places it on the spoon rest. “How could it be to my detriment when I—”
“There!” I point at his eyes. “The bags. You didn’t used to have those.”
“It’s busy season,” he says.
“When isn’t it?”
“Fair point.”
Luke turns and crosses his arms over his chest. He looks sexy all the time, even when he’s bedraggled, but I know he’s been sacrificing his own wellbeing for the sake of spending time with me. If I were him, after a late-night gig, I’d want to go home to my own bed. It’s a different kind of rest.
“I was living alone before,” I say. “I am a big girl.”
He smiles sadly, grabs one of my curls, and tucks it behind my ear. “I know you are. I’m just . . . trying to help you make this place a home.”
My insides warm in an all-encompassing way. The kind that sometimes thinks about the future and knows it shouldn’t. “I can make a home here on my own,” I say, which is true. But there is something romantic about the notion of my boyfriend caring about making a home with me, a home he isn’t even supposed to be living in.
Luke looks down with a sigh. “If you want me to give you more space—”
“Slow down, cowboy. Did I say that?”
“No,” he says, unable to hide the boyish smile that comes along with that. He turns back to the stove to futz with the dinner he’s whipping up.
I sigh and lean against the counter, looking up at him. “I know you want to take care of me.”
“I do.”
And damn if it isn’t the sexiest thing in the world. “But you need to take care of you, too.”
His shoulders fall. I know he’s been pushing himself too hard to make things right for me.
“Wouldn’t it make you feel better if I wasn’t here alone?” I ask. “With a dog. And you can come over and play with it? That’s supposed to lower cortisol levels.”
Luke’s blue eyes flick over to me, twinkling. “I know of other ways to lower cortisol levels . . .”
“You dirty, dirty man,” I say.
He dips the spoon into the pot and blows on it. “Open.”
Luke guides the spoon to my lips, and I carefully taste the rich, tomato-based whatever the fuck he’s making. “Mm. So good.”
Luke wipes the underside of my lip with his thumb.
“Well, I’m going to get a dog.”
“That’s fine. It’s your choice. You don’t need my permission.”
“I know, but . . .” It’s not permission I want. It’s . . . something else. “Just tell me it’s not crazy.”
“Oh, honey, you don’t need me for that.”
I shuck a hand through my hair. “I don’t know, everything I’ve done the past few months feels a little—”
“Not crazy, Nor. Maybe you’re just . . .” Luke turns toward me and runs his hand down my arms. “Maybe it’s all just moving fast because you were looking for things to make sense, and now they do.”
My heart expands. “Yeah. You’re right. It all just makes sense.”
I run my hand over his cheek, loving the way the stubble bristles against my skin.
“God, I can’t believe my girlfriend is going to become a mother, and I’m not going to have anything to do with it.”
I scoff, though a deep fire in my belly is stoked. “You can come with!”
Luke shakes his head. “No, it’s your thing, baby. You live your truth, and I’ll be here ready to be a part of it.”
* * *
I drive way out of the city to the Harmony Hounds Animal Sanctuary. It’s situated on a big plot of land where all the animals can live out their days free and happy if they never get a chance to find their forever home. It breaks my heart even thinking about it, but when the caretaker, Claire, leads me to a field of dogs living their best life, I see that it isn’t that bad.
“Here they come!” Claire says with a cheerful smile.
We are engulfed by dogs of all ages and sizes.
“I think I can die happy now!” I cry out, getting licked and sniffed from all sides.
I give so many head pats and scratches that my heart is pulled in all directions. Do I want a little cairn terrier with missing teeth or a hefty Pitbull who gives the sweetest kisses and is scared of the chihuahua a fraction of his size?
“So, for apartment living, I’d definitely put a restriction on the bigger dog breeds,” Claire says. “I hate when people try to force big dogs into small spaces.”
“Totally, I wouldn’t dream of stuffing this guy into my shoebox,” I say as I pat the side of a ginormous dog that looks like it must be part Great Dane.
Claire pats his head. “Sorry, buddy. Next time.”
He looks up at her and woofs once before rushing off to go play.
“This place is amazing,” I say.
We exchange a smile, then stare off at the dogs as if they’re children on the playground. It’s beautiful out here. My heart will always be in the city, but sometimes taking a big old gulp of fresh air is necessary. The sky is so big and blue with clouds that Bob Ross could have painted.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see a shorthaired blonde dog skulking by the fence, sniffing the perimeter. He’s lanky with perky ears that fold up at the top. He hasn’t come up to say hi. “Who’s this?”
Claire glances at the dog, her golden ponytail whipping in the wake of a stiff breeze. She smiles solemnly. “That’s one of our new guys. I’ve been calling him Shortbread, but I think he hates it because he barely even wants to give me a sniff. That is common with dogs found in his circumstances.”
I don’t know if I want to know, for fear my heart may break, but I keep listening.
“He was dumped on the side of the road, nearly starved to death. He’s a few years old so I’m sure he had an owner, and then . . .”
“Didn’t?”
Claire nods.
“Poor baby.”
“We’ve just been able to introduce him to the pack. He was too skittish at first. Trust issues. I hope he wasn’t hurt in his previous home, but . . . it’s good to assume the worst when it comes to these guys.”
I look up at the sky, trying to keep my eyes from welling up. “Oh my god, how do you do this every day?”
Claire laughs. “Been doing it since I can remember. My mom opened this place when I was just a baby. Comes with the territory.” She claps her hands. “Shortbread!”
Shortbread lifts his head in our direction, then goes back to sniffing.
“He’s trying to find a way to escape,” Claire mutters.
“Aw, poor guy doesn’t know how good he’s got it.”
“Just like humans. We accept the love we think we deserve.”
We return our gaze to Shortbread.
“Give me your bag; I’ll let him sniff it,” Claire continues.
I hand over my satchel and watch her approach Shortbread cautiously, making sure he can see her.
“Hey, Shortie. Got a treat.” Claire crouches down and holds the treat out in front of the bag.
Shortbread perks up. Even a boy who’s been hurt can’t refuse a treat. He goes over and nibbles at her fingers, big pink tongue flicking out. Then, he sticks his head right into my bag. I wonder for a second if I left a half-eaten protein bar in there or something.
Shortbread comes up for air and rounds Claire, giving her a sniff. And then he looks at me.
And something just locks into place.
He bounds over and stops short, a few paces from me. I look at Claire.
“Get on his level if you can,” she says in half a whisper so as not to scare him.
I crouch down. “Okay, buddy. Hey there.”
Shortbread is still and his dark eyes are wary of me.
I kneel in front of him.
“Hold out a hand,” Claire encourages.
I do so, close to my body so he can see it and doesn’t feel threatened.
Shortbread noses his way closer. Sniff, sniff, sniff. When he’s inches from my hand, he stops and then decidedly licks a stripe up my palm.
In an instant, the shy dog bursts to life, nudging his snout up against my neck, sniffing and looking for any bare plot of skin to lick.
I laugh and run my hands over his head. His ears are as soft as velvet. “Hey Shortbread. Hey.”
He calms enough so we can look into each other’s eyes.
I scritch my fingers over his scalp, tilting my head to the side and smiling. “I’m not so bad, huh?”
“I’ll be damned,” Claire says, getting back to her feet. “I can’t even get him to come when I call.”
Shortbread plops his bottom down, his long pink tongue lolling out of his mouth. When his eyes catch me again, he leans his head toward my neck.
“More pets? Of course,” I say, giving him all the scratches he’s so desperately needed.
“Love at first sight,” Claire says.
My eyes cloud with tears. “Yeah, I think so.”
Paris might be the “City of Love,” but I have a strong argument that Austin might take the crown .