Chapter Eight
Reid
My morning alarm comes much too soon. I roll onto my back and groan, staring at the ceiling, and mentally running through my schedule for today. Last week felt like it would never end, and yet the weekend has gone by in the blink of an eye.
The good news is, Poppy is healing well from her spay surgery.
She's been recovering at home with me, but we have her listed on the adoption site as a foster.
I'm honestly surprised no one has applied for her yet.
It's not exactly kitten season and people are usually searching for them this time of year.
Unfortunately, we discovered that she does have feline immunodeficiency virus and would prefer her to go to an only cat household.
That has narrowed down the list of applicants quite a bit.
She comes to work with me most days now and we have a little cat bed set up for her at the front desk with the secretaries.
At this point, she’s just going to become a shop cat for the staff and visitors to enjoy.
I load her up in the truck for our short daily commute and get lost in thought on the drive in to the clinic.
I still can’t shake the images of that tiny blonde swirling around in my head.
I thought that Caroline showing back up in town all these years later would have brought hundreds of questions to the surface, all of which would have been infuriatingly unanswerable, unless I dared to speak to her again.
Not going to happen. But it really only brought up one: why?
Fortunately, after seeing her snobby husband show up on every news outlet, that answer has become glaringly clear.
I haven’t run into her since that crazy day and I didn’t spend the last however long trying to forget about her, for all of that to come crashing down now.
I figure she’s probably already run back to him, despite his ongoing shenanigans.
I don’t know how she’s not embarrassed to be with the biggest known player, but I guess money can buy love when that’s all you really care about.
Or at least that’s what I’m telling myself.
My mind is still spinning down this drain upon arriving at the office, but I am quickly brought back to reality upon Martha’s shrieks. They turn out to be screams of pure joy when a Sphynx cat in a sweater is brought in by a dark haired beauty about my age.
“Oh Reid, is he not just the cutest?! When she called us saying she was bringing in a Sphynx, I didn’t think it would be a purebred. You know how people are, thinking they have Ragdolls and Maine Coons. But nope, it’s a real hairless beauty!”
I am so not awake enough for this. The rest of the day full of appointments drags just as much as this past week, but what I have to look forward to is dinner at my parents tonight and nothing beats my mom’s homemade lasagna.
∞∞∞
Ever since my dad’s stroke a few years ago, I’ve made it a habit to stop by at least once a week to help my parents out.
He’s come a long way with therapy, but still struggles with certain tasks that he used to be able to do.
You can’t tell him that though. He’s very prideful and insists that he doesn’t need the help.
He still works part time at the shelter and now my mom has turned her teaching career into leading our volunteer staff.
As an only child, I feel a large responsibility to help take care of my aging parents.
Sometimes I really wish I had some siblings to help out or at least commiserate with.
The pressure can be a lot sometimes, but it has only fueled my dreams of having a large family one day.
However, at this rate, it’s about to be me and some stray dogs.
I walk in the front door and bend down to pet Buster, our family Basset Hound. He’s growing older and slower, so his greetings aren’t as rambunctious as they used to be.
“Hey Mom,” I yell through the house as the smell of fried chicken fills my nose.
A little disappointed that it’s not lasagna, but who am I to complain?
I walk in to find her hovering over the stove in her green striped apron, tending to a large pot of bubbling oil.
Despite my greeting, she jumps when she turns around and sees me.
“Did you not hear me come in?” I chuckle at her facial expression.
“Goodness, no. You know me, always jumpy.” This is true, she is the easiest person to sneak up on and her reaction is always the most dramatic. “How was work? I hope you’re hungry. I just pulled out some homemade fries.”
“Yum, I’m starved. Work was good, but long. Where’s dad?” I ask, making myself at home.
“He’s still in his office. I don’t even know what he’s doing in there. Can you go tell him it’s almost time to eat?” She calls back and I head towards the study without answering her.
Glancing down to check my phone as I walk, I am greeted back by another news notification:
“Grant Warren and Caroline Baker Arriving at Town Hall in Separate Vehicles - Could the Rumors be True?”
How the hell is this even considered news? And why can’t I escape her? I managed to go the past few years with no social media or run-ins with Caroline, only for her to now pop back up everywhere again.
Of course she was quick to run back out of Melwood to her big city life. Who even knows what’s going on at this point, all I know is that I have got to let this woman go and get her out of my head.