The partnership contract blurred in front of me, rows of legal text becoming abstract patterns rather than actual clauses. I blinked, refocusing on the section Tabitha had flagged with a sticky note. Revenue sharing looked solid, but the timeline for implementation needed…
Distant voices filtered through my office door. Normal office buzz, nothing unusual. I turned back to the contract.
More voices. Louder now. And was that…
Barking?
Barking. On the seventh floor of a downtown office building. Accompanied by Lennon’s distinctive laugh and what sounded like half the studio converging on reception.
Oh.
Oh.
I abandoned the contract, my chair rolling back as I stood. That was Iggy’s bark, which meant Finn was here, at the office, in the middle of a Wednesday afternoon in May.
I walked through the mostly empty break room and pulled open the door to the reception lobby. Half my team had materialized near the sofas, and at the center of it all was roughly fifteen pounds of rust-colored, curly-eared puppy enthusiasm attached to a leash held by my slightly disheveled, definitely happy, absolutely gorgeous boyfriend.
Finn stood near the reception desk, hair escaping its usual neat bun, and his gray t-shirt clinging to his shoulders. He wasgrinning while Iggy attempted to organize everyone in the vicinity into some kind of formation.
“I’m not saying I’m disappointed you’re here,” Lennon was saying from their position on the floor, accepting enthusiastic puppy kisses, “but you could have warned me that my god-puppy was visiting. I would have prepared appropriate offerings.”
“Pretty sure the appropriate offering is just existing in his presence,” Casey chuckled, reaching down to give Iggy a solid ear scratch. “Hey, Ig. Yes, you’re a good boy. No, you can’t eat my shoelaces.”
Iggy disagreed, his tail whipping back and forth as he investigated this new person who smelled interesting and had very tempting footwear.
Finn’s face was flushed from exertion, but he was breathing easy. Iggy’s tongue lolled out, his dark eyes bright and alert. His coat was slightly mussed. The service dog vest he wore, still marked with the “IN TRAINING” patch, sat slightly askew on his small frame.
“You walked here,” I didn’t bother to make it a question.
Finn smiled sheepishly. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“With him?” I gestured to Iggy, who was now investigating the cardboard cutout of his Uncle Dom’s character in the corner.
“Socialization,” Finn lifted a shoulder, like it explained everything. “And energy management.” He watched Iggy bump the cutout with his nose, circling it. “Had to burn some off and I wanted to come tell you…” he swallowed. “Wanted to give you some news.”
My heart thumped twice in rapid succession. “News?”
“Maybe somewhere less...” He looked around at our impromptu puppy appreciation society, “chaotic?”
“Iggy no!” Lennon lunged for him, but it was too late. Iggy had decided to christen Dom’s effigy.
“Icarus Cisco Walker-Archer!” I used my best executive voice. “Did you just pee in my office? On youruncle?”
Iggy lowered his leg, curly ears swiveling toward me. For approximately three seconds, he looked appropriately chastened,his expression the picture of innocence.
Then he sneezed and darted between Casey’s legs, spring-loaded puppy energy propelling him toward two junior developers near the breakroom entrance.
“Finn, he peed on Dom,” I turned toward my boyfriend whose lopsided grin had split his features.
“I should probably let Dom know,” he fished his phone out of his pocket.
“You should not let him know!”
“I’ll get the emergency blow dryer,” Kirsty stood and headed to the cleaning closet.
“Come on,” I caught Finn’s hand, warm and slightly callused against mine. “We can talk in my office.”
“We’ll keep Iggy entertained!” Lennon scooped him up in their arms. “Go have your moment. Titi Lennon’s got this.”
