Chapter Twenty-Seven
Weston
I’m such a sucker for a good sonnet. My brain spins her silly words around in my head for the thousandth time, torturing me over the fact that I haven’t written her back.
It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s just that I know this thing goes a lot deeper for me than it does for her, and I don’t know what to say.
“You’re not yourself today,” Maria’s voice chimes, cutting through the noise. “Bad day at work, yeah?”
I look up at her from where I’m sitting beside Rambo in the exercise yard, holding a tennis ball in my hand. He’s bouncing up and down, waiting for me to throw it. I don’t know how the guy hasn’t been adopted yet; it makes no sense to me. He’s my favorite dog at the shelter.
But he’s also the longest resident.
He nudges my hand, and I realize I haven’t even said anything to Maria yet. I shake my head, trying to rid myself of the zombie state I’m in. “Sorry, yeah. I’m fine.”
“I don’t believe that for one second,” she tells me, cocking one of her dark-ish, gray eyebrows. “You look conflicted. Even Rambo can tell.”
I chuckle, giving the dog a good pat. “Yeah, I think he reads me like a book most of the time.”
“He’s a dog. You can’t fool a dog.”
“I can’t fool you either, apparently,” I point out, throwing the ball across the yard. Rambo bounds off to get it, but as his big jaws sweep it up, he gets distracted, running off to sniff something in the corner. “He’s terrible at fetch.”
“He is.” She laughs, leaning on the fence above me. “So, what’s on your mind, Wes? Something at work? Something with your friends? Something here?”
“No…” My voice trails off, the letter burning a hole in my jacket pocket. I’ve carried the thing around with me for nearly a week now, not sure what to do with it. “It’s … It’s complicated.”
“I can understand complications,” she urges, poking the side of my head. “You just gotta start explaining yourself. Your energy is all off; it’s gonna affect the dogs.”
I let out a sigh, then pull out the letter. I hold it out for Maria to take from me, and she does, but not without a confused expression on her face. “It’s a long story,” I begin, waiting for her reaction.
“Yeah, I don’t get it?” She tilts her head at me once she finishes. “It’s confusing. It’s an apology, and very much a made-up holiday.”
“It’s a real holiday,” I counter, sighing. “I checked.”
“Of course you did.” She laughs. “But that’s not the elephant in the room.”
“I know.” I swallow the knot that forms in my throat, then spill it all. Everything from the way I’d noticed her when we were younger, to the birthday party where we kissed, to now, with me contemplating what to do.
“Hmm,” Maria says once I finish, handing me back the letter. “That’s a lot, but it doesn’t say much about her feelings.”
I furrow my brow. “What do you mean? I think her feelings are pretty clear. She just wants to be friends—or pen pals. Something like that. I don’t think she wants anything more from me.”
“Then why wouldn’t she just get a new one? You can get a pen pal from anywhere; they have websites for that kind of thing. And it’d be a lot more exciting than writing to someone who lives in the same city as you.”
I shrug. “Yeah, but I don’t think that means much. It’s not like she went looking for a pen pal.”
“No, she was wanting to write to you.”
“Yeah, don’t make this into something it’s not.” I scoff, shaking my head as Rambo finally returns, dropping the tennis ball in my lap. I wipe off the slobber on my jeans, then rear back, launching it to the far side of the pen. “Besides, her brother wouldn’t be happy about any of this.”
“Right, because the two of you aren’t grown adults who are capable of making your own decisions.” The sarcasm dripping from her tone shocks me, and I whip my head around, surprised to see such sass from the woman.
“You sound like that hit a personal nerve.”
“The only kind of nerve you can hit is personal.” She winks at me, her bubbly laugh louder than the city around us.
“But yes, it does. I married my brother’s best friend.
He was six years younger than me, and it was quite a mess there for a little bit.
It was worth it, though. We’ve been married thirty-five years now—four kids and eight grandkids. Seems like it was worth it to me.”
“I’d say.” I chuckle, a smile stretching across my face.
“That’s the kind of life I want—a big family full of love and stability.
My parents were too busy for me. They just pushed me off on a nanny for everything.
The nanny was great and all, but I want better than that.
I want to be a present father and husband. ”
Maria’s expression softens. “And now you’re out trying to find someone to build a life with in this impossible city.”
“Yeah.” I snort, giving Rambo a pat as he once again returns with the ball. “I just keep thinking it’ll happen one of these days. Parker wants me to go on a double date with him and Amy, and she wants to bring one of her friends for me.”
“Are you going to go?” Maria asks.
“I don’t think I can do it,” I say, watching Rambo chase a butterfly across the yard. For a dog with such a name, he sure doesn’t have a matching personality. Maybe he should be named Herbert. Or Buddy.
I’ve always liked the name “Buddy” for a dog.
“You can’t do it because you’re hung up on your pen pal, Wes. That’s usually what happens when you stop wanting everyone and start only wanting one person. It changes how the rest of it feels.”
I open my mouth, then close it again.
She gives me a look. “You and your pen pal are stuck in this little push and pull. You need to sort that out before it sorts you.”
“It already has,” I groan, raking my fingers through my hair. I cringe as I feel the saliva and dirt from Rambo’s mouth glide through the locks. Oh well, better to smell like a dog than a bar. “She’s not interested.”
A flick to my temple has me jumping. “Ouch!”
“You’re being too hard-headed,” Maria scolds me.
“You have to get some ‘game,’ as you young people call it. She misses you. You said the kiss was full of chemistry. It’s my bet that it wasn’t one-sided when it came to those feelings.
You should just give her some space and time and see what happens. ”
“So, like, not write her back?”
“Maybe don't rush to write her back.”
“I’ve already waited a week,” I say, turning to gaze up at her. “I don’t know how much longer I can wait. It’s already been a month since the birthday party. It seems silly to just put it off. Isn’t that petty?”
“A little, but so is telling a man you just passionately kissed that he’s too desperate for love. That’s not very nice, that’s for sure.”
“Fair.” I chuckle, though I have to admit I don’t really fault Brittany for it all that much. She has a point with what she said. I was too focused on love, too focused on trying to find someone to settle down with. Now, I still want to find the right person, but I’m not seeking it out anymore.
“You know who makes a solid family?” Maria’s question leaves me wondering what she’s getting at.
“I don’t know? A kid?”
She gives me an incredulous look. “No, I don’t recommend just running out and going that route.
I meant a dog. A dog gives you someone to snuggle with on lonely nights, gives you someone to welcome you home after a long day.
And they’re more than happy to go with you wherever you’d like to go, especially one like Rambo.
” She gestures to the place in front of me, and I realize I missed him.
He’s sitting just in front of me, the ball between his front paws, his head tilted ever so slightly to the side. His pink tongue lolls out of his mouth, his pants falling in rhythm with the energy he exerted. His deep brown eyes watch me intently.
“You just want me to throw the ball again,” I say to him, reaching for it. His fluffy tail slaps the ground as I pick up the tennis ball. I launch it across the yard, but instead of running off to chase it, he lies down, placing his legs over mine. I reach out and scratch behind his ear.
“See. A good dog can make you feel loved,” Maria says, her voice taking a soft, motherly edge. “They just have this way about them that makes you feel seen. You have to appreciate that.”
“I do,” I say, letting out a sigh. “I just have no idea how I’d make a dog work with my busy schedule.
I don’t think Parker would be cool with me bringing this guy with me to work every day, and it would make me feel horrible to leave him trapped in the apartment.
” I realize that I’m already considering it, picturing it, and then disappointing myself with all the ways it won’t work.
“You could leave him here during the day,” Maria suggests. “He could hang out with me, like he’s at daycare, then go home with you. My guess is he’d be perfectly happy with that, unless you can convince your friend to bring him along to your corporate job.”
“Yeah, I don’t see that happening,” I mutter, shaking my head. However, the thought of taking Rambo home and letting him sleep on my massive, king-sized bed sounds like the kind of spoiling he deserves.
No more nights on a cold nylon cot.
No more being the longest resident.
“Hmm…” I mull it over as Rambo looks up at me. “He couldn’t keep his name.”
“Good. I don’t think he’d want to,” she says, a smile in her voice. “I bet he’d just be happy to be whatever it is you want to call him.”
I breathe in deeply, filling my lungs with a burst of oxygen. I know it’s kind of crazy to think about adopting a dog of his size in a place like New York City…
But someday, maybe we could move north and he could have a big backyard, with little kids to play with. The picture comes clearly to my mind, jarring my heart in a way that’s unexpected. It’s as if it all comes together at once.
He’s the start of the family I want.
“You know what…” My voice trails off as I look up at Maria, meeting her kind, deep eyes.
“What’s that, Weston?” she replies, the amusement building right there in the lines beside her lips, curling into a smile.
“I think…” I pause for effect. “I think I will take Rambo home with me, but I think I’ll change his name to Buddy.”
“The most generic dog name in the world,” Maria says flatly.
“Yep,” I say with a grin. “The most generic dog name for the most non-generic dog.” I reach out and give him another pet.
Just wait till you see your new life.