“What did the vet mean when he said we should 'be prepared?”
I slip my arm around her shoulders. “Just what he said. We hope for the best.”
She leans into me, just slightly, and for one second, it’s like everything else falls away.
“Maddie... I’m glad you called me,” I say.
She doesn’t look up right away.
“I don’t know what you were doing in Joseph’s room,” I say. “I might not believe the tabloid, but I believe my own eyes.”
“You thought we were having sex?”
“What do men and women usually do together in hotel rooms in the middle of the night?”
“I was walking to our suite. Joseph was drunk out of his mind. Security came by, ready to file a report and take him wherever they take drunk people. But he has a new job, and I know from my friend Janie the firm is super conservative. He’d probably be fired if word got out.”
“So you did… what?”
“Took him to his room. Cleaned him up. Worked on that autism report I’m writing. Left. That’s when you saw me.”
“I’m glad we got that cleared up,” I force myself to say, taking her hand.
I want to believe her. The story is logical. But I don’t want to cave in, only to find I’ve been made a fool.
We sit in silence for a long moment. My eyes fall on her half-open bag, that ballerina-themed notebook peeking out.
“I’m glad I could do something for Snorty. And we have another memory to share,” I say, indicating her notebook. “Like my birthday gift to you a decade ago.”
She blinks fast, caught off guard. “Oh. I remember that night, now. You danced with me.”
We share a smile, then I pull her to her feet. "We better wait with your mother. She'll wonder what became of you. And I'll text Steven to meet us here after the Midnight Records meeting ends."
An hour later, the vet walks toward us, removing his gloves. Maddie bolts upright.
I’m on my feet beside her. “How is he?”
The vet tugs his face mask down. “He pulled through surgery. I was concerned about how much stress he could handle. But he’s resting comfortably now.”
“Is he cured?” Maddie asks. “Completely?”
“We can’t say that yet. The next few weeks will tell us more. But this was the hardest part, and he got through it.”
“Thank you,” I say. “Can we take him home?”
“Yes. He’ll need round-the-clock quiet. The receptionists will have medication and instructions for follow-up care.”
We both exhale at once.
Maddie wipes at her eyes with the back of her hand. “Thank God.”
I press a kiss to the top of her head.
The nurse brings Snorty out a moment later, wrapped in a pale blue blanket. He looks like a worn-out stuffed animal, his eyes heavy-lidded but alert.
“Snorty,” Maddie says.
He makes a tiny sound in response to Maddie’s voice. She reaches for him and cradles him carefully, as if afraid to shift his weight even an inch.
