“I’m even boring a dog with my life.” I scratched his head and sighed. “I just don’t know what to do. How do I explain why I kept up the charade for so long? Admit that I was afraid she wouldn’t like me if I was who I really am? Or admit that I really am the asshole she thought I was and that she probably wouldn’t like me much if we’d met under other circumstances?” The truth was, that was what I was really afraid of—that once she got to know the real me, she’d smarten up and find herself an honest bike messenger.
It was almost eight, and I was already an hour later than I should have been getting to the office, so I walked my new best friend back to the shelter. Suzette wasn’t around when I’d arrived an hour ago but was now working the counter. “Mr. Truitt. I’m glad I caught you. I wanted to let you know that Bandit is getting relocated to our farm upstate at the end of this week.”
“A farm?”
She offered an unconvincing smile. “We can only keep dogs in the shelter here in the city for so long—after three months they go upstate for retirement if they aren’t adopted.”
“Upstate? A farm? Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” I’d had a dog that went to the so-called farm once when I was a kid. I remember the day I’d told my friend that Buster had gone to have a better life on a farm. He’d set me straight on what the farm really meant.
Suzette’s smile was real. “God, no. It’s not like that. Our farm is a nice place. A woman named Allison runs it—she’s pretty amazing, actually. The only downside is the animals don’t get as much interaction with people as they do here in the city where we get lots of volunteers. But it’s a nice farm, and the dogs have room to run during the day.”
When I looked down at Bandit, he was staring up at me. Don’t give me those sad eyes. It’s a real farm. Not the proverbial farm parents used to make na?ve children feel better. Didn’t you hear the woman? I kneeled down and rubbed the top of his head. “You take care of yourself. Okay, buddy?” For some reason, it felt like I was saying goodbye to the last part of Bianca I was holding on to. After a few minutes, I stood and offered Suzette the leash.
When she took it, Bandit refused to move from my side.
Suzette made kissy sounds. “Come on, Bandit. Time for Mr. Truitt to go.”
The damn dog didn’t budge, even when Suzette gave the collar a light tug.
“I’m sorry. They bond very quickly. Let me go grab his favorite toy.”
She disappeared and came back a few minutes later squeaking a toy bone. That got his attention. “Come on, Bandit.” Squeak. Squeak. “Say goodbye to Mr. Truitt.”
I looked down at my trusty friend—my keeper of secrets—to say goodbye. But instead it wasn’t what I said at all. I wasn’t even sure who put the fucking words in my mouth that I vomited out. All I know is that I wasn’t ready to let go of the last piece of Bianca just yet. And…I’d lost what was left of my mind.
“I’d like to adopt Bandit.”
“What the…?”
My brain was seriously screwing with me. As I walked down 21st Street lost in thought about Dexter Truitt, the guilt I’d been feeling for thinking about him while I was kissing Jay the other night must have really started to get to me. I blinked my eyes into focus watching from a distance while a tall, dark, handsome man who looked an awful lot like Jay Reed was getting into the back of a fancy Town Car. From a block away, the man really looked like Jay, only he was wearing a three-piece suit and helping a greyhound jump into a car, rather than riding a bicycle. I laughed to myself how nutty my imagination could be sometimes and watched the dark car pull away from the curb as I made my way to Forever Grey.
Inside, Suzette greeted me. “Hey Bianca. Did I sleep through a day, or is today Monday?”
I laughed. I only ever went to the shelter on Sunday mornings. “Nope. It’s Monday, alright. I came yesterday, too.” I hesitated to continue what I was going to say at first, because what I was going to say might sound a little batshit crazy, but then I remembered if anyone would understand it was another dog person. “Yesterday, I walked a dog I’ve never walked before...and…well, I’ve been struggling with some things and taking him out made me feel a lot better.” I decided to leave off the part that I spent the better part of an hour telling the poor dog my problems.
Suzie smiled. “The best therapists have four legs and a tail, if you ask me. Which dog is it? I’ll get him for you.”
“His name is Bandit.”
Suzie looked surprised. “Bandit seems to be very popular lately. In fact, you just missed him. He was actually adopted by a volunteer.” She pointed to the door. “Walked out less than five minutes ago.”
Call it intuition, but my stomach dropped—a feeling of uneasiness crept over me, and I wasn’t sure why. “Who…who adopted him?”
Suzie looked around and then leaned in. “I’m not really supposed to give out adoption or volunteer information…but…Bandit hit the jackpot. He was adopted by a guy who lives on Central Park West. Some big-wig who owns his own company.”
“Was his name…Jay Reed, by any chance?”
She shook her head. “No, that’s not his name.”
Feeling relief, I let out a breath. “Okay. I just saw a guy on the street with a greyhound right before I came in. He reminded me of someone, and I thought maybe it was him.”
“Definitely not named Jay. But if Jay looks anything like Bandit’s new owner, he’s welcome to come volunteer.”
I laughed. “Good looking, huh?”
“Oh yeah.” Suzette gathered some papers into a file and closed it on top of the reception counter. “How about if I grab Marla for you? She hasn’t been out today, and you’ve walked her before, right?”
“Marla would be great. She’s really sweet.”
Suzette disappeared to the back where they kept the dogs, and I waited at the desk. After I checked my phone and found I still didn’t have any new texts from Jay, I tucked it back into my pocket and looked around. The folder that Suzette had swept papers into was labeled adoptions. I was curious by nature, but not usually such a snoop. Glancing around the room, I found no one paying attention, so I used my pointer finger to gently lift open the manila folder—just enough to sneak a peek.
I caught the home address on the second line: 1281 Central Park West. Suzette wasn’t kidding—Bandit was moving on up. Then my eyes lifted to the first line of the application. Blinking a few times, I was certain my brain was screwing with me again. There was no way it could be possible. It didn’t make any sense. Not giving a shit if I was caught at that point, I opened the folder and tore the first page from inside. Staring, I couldn’t believe what was written clear as day on line one.
Dexter Truitt.
My stomach was nauseous as I stood across the street in the park, waiting. I’d blown off the interview I was supposed to do this afternoon in favor of stalking like a crazy person.
Nothing made sense.