Chapter 13 Never Go to the Back Room with a Dog Adoption Coordinator #3
“You know…” He inhaled through his nose, as though hoping she wasn’t going to make him say it out loud. “The thing where you cold-read people until they bend to your will and somehow leave the interaction believing it was all their idea.” She blinked at him. “For good, of course.”
Her eyes went skyward. She knew she had a version of whatever he was observing somewhere deep in her arsenal. It was how she got by. But it sounded so much more manipulative than it felt.
She might’ve been softening to Elliot, but when it came to Lainey, he clearly still had his reservations. In an instant, the bright burning ember that had been glowing in her chest for days—maybe longer—fizzled and burned out.
She dug deep for a smile. “Of course,” she responded eventually. “That thing.”
“Do it to Waffle.”
She grimaced. “Do you mean Sir Waffle?”
“I don’t think he’ll ignore us if we leave off his honorific.”
“Fine.” She put up her hands. “May I?” She tilted her chin in the direction of the back seat.
He gestured for the step, as if to say, Be my guest. She inched herself up into the cab, yielding as much space as possible to Waffle.
She gently lifted her hand to his nose, and he softly sniffed the air in front of her palm.
His exhalations tickled her fingers, but neither closed the gap.
Elliot stared down the brown dog’s rigid frame.
“Do they know where he came from?” she asked.
Elliot shook his head. “They didn’t know much. But he wasn’t like this at the shelter. He seemed comfortable there. I don’t know what happened.”
“I might have an idea,” she told him. He watched her climb out of the truck, his shoulders still like he wasn’t sure whether to be concerned or relieved.
She walked away from the truck and went into the house. Two minutes later, she walked back to Elliot and Waffle with an armful of pillows and blankets.
He arched his brow. “I thought you had a plan to get him inside.”
“I told you I had an idea. I said nothing about bringing him inside.” She arced a pillow over Waffle, directly into Elliot’s stomach.
“So this is your big plan? That we stay out here all night?” His voice was skeptical.
“That’s the long and short of it.” She held up a sunset-orange quilt, offering it to him.
He nodded in acceptance. “He’s a dog, Elliot.
A rescue dog who’s probably had all sorts of trauma, but he managed to get comfortable with the shelter volunteers, so we know he has the capacity to trust us. We just have to earn it.”
Waffle turned to look at her for the first time. Chocolate-brown eyes stared back at her cautiously. Elliot looked at her, too, but with a wide-eyed, unreadable expression.
“This won’t be my first time sleeping in a car, if you want me to take it from here.” Shame paraded up her neck. She’d revealed something too personal. Perhaps he wouldn’t think very hard about it. “You can go inside.”
He frowned. “I’m not leaving you out here by yourself.”
“I wouldn’t be alone. I’d have Waffle.”
“What about predators?”
“Predators? Where do you think we live, the Serengeti?”
“Stop.” He shook his head, like she was ridiculous, but amusement sprang up his face before he had the chance to tamp it back down. “There’s a pizza in the front seat if you want something to eat.”
She shut the door behind her and settled into the back seat. “You brought me a dog and pizza. You’re my favorite husband now.”
He stretched his arm over the dog resting between them and snatched the pizza box from the passenger seat. Waffle’s nose followed the box as if connected by string. “Glad to know I’m moving my way up the rankings in your husband collection.”
“You’ve officially unseated Greg, who was marrying me for French citizenship. But I’m still very fond of Raoul, with whom I’m wrapped up in a different but equally complicated transactional arrangement.”
“You weave a tangled web.” He handed her a slice of pepperoni on a napkin.
Waffle’s snout hoovered up her arm. She plucked one curled pepperoni from the stringy cheese and offered him the scrap of meat.
Accepting it with his front teeth, Waffle demurely placed the pepperoni on top of his paw to inspect it.
“I didn’t know you could get me French citizenship,” Elliot said, placing the box back where it came from. “That’s pretty valuable these days.”
She took a large bite, racing against both the dog and the napkin, which was rapidly turning translucent in her hand. “We’d have to stay married for you to get it, and we don’t like each other that much.”
He clutched his chest, wounded, but recovered quickly.
“So France is making more sense to me now. You’re from there.”
“Actually, I’ve never been. I’ve never been anywhere,” she corrected, swallowing. “But my grandma lived there for years, and my mom was born there.”
“So your plan is to go there, and then what? What do you want to do when you get there?” he asked casually, taking a large bite.
“Jesus, are you and Bree in cahoots?”
“Have I touched a nerve, Ms. Hodges-Davis?”
“I do not remember agreeing to hyphenate.” His eyes didn’t move. He wasn’t going to let her deflect.
She groaned. “Can’t I just want an adventure for myself? I’ve never had enough money or time to make any sort of plans, and when I finally catch one break, I have to figure it all out in a day?”
For years she’d been drowning in this town, furiously kicking her legs, trying to take a breath.
Now, she’d barely made it to the surface and was exceedingly aware of how behind she was.
It seemed like, while she’d been arguing with debt collectors and lining up odd jobs, everyone else had spent their twenties discovering who they were and who they wanted to become.
Lainey only knew that she was too exhausted to be herself much longer.
“You know what I want?” she said, sitting up on her heels. “I want to try living a life where every one of my decisions is not dictated by my ability to afford health care.” She wanted to be free to exist. To discover. To make up for lost time.