Would love to hear more.
Keep me posted!
Energy thrummed through her with each response, and now she was planning their first get-together. Something simple, low pressure, no expectation of performance. Least of all, from herself.
She still had no idea what to call whateveritwas she was planning.The Women’s Collectivesounded too corporate, as if she were organizing a professional association for middle management. The In-Betweenwas too precious. Her commutes had become brainstorming sessions, talking aloud to her notes app and trying to make heads or tails of her babble later in the day. Having an afternoon free to focus would have been welcome . . .
But more than she wanted to work, Ris decided, she wanted to hear him laugh. Not the ironic huff. TherealAinsley laugh, that shook his whole chest and filled the room with light.
“Let’s go to the shelter,” she suggested, grinning when he raised his head to look at her quizzically. “Just to look! I’ve never even spent time around dogs, not really.”
“I don’t know if this is a good idea,” he stage whispered as they walked hand-in-hand across the shelter’s parking lot less thanan hour later. “We’re already on a list! What if it gets back tothatdog that we’re shopping around for something better?”
“We’re not shopping around, you idiot,” she giggled into his arm. “We’re just looking! Getting a feel for things. Seeing if I can tolerate the smell. Don’t overthink it!”
“We need to seriously start narrowing down the names,” he reminded her.
“I already told you my votes. We just need to agree on something.”
Ainsley gave her a dubious look, clicking his tongue. “Yeah, and I told you I’m not naming my dog Kevin. So you can get that idea right out of your sexy little head.”
She was still laughing when they walked through the doors, signing in at the desk to receive visitor badges. “I know it’s a long shot, but you don’t have puppies, do you?”
The volunteer gave her a thin smile. Ris understood. No doubt that’s what everyone came in hoping for, she reasoned. Something fresh, something new, the promise of no bad behaviors or ailments. She couldn’t imagine many folks walked through the doorsaskingfor an older animal with health problems. Ainsley gave her a hard look, narrowing his eyes.
“We’re already on a list!” he hissed. “We’ve already been waiting for weeks! And now you’re going to get us blacklisted because of your waitlist philandering.”
“I told you, we’re just looking!”
The smell was immediate. Dog breath, wet fur, and an industrial-strength disinfectant. It wasn’t terrible, she decided.And there will only be one at home. Barking ricocheted off the concrete walls, making her wince. Ris wrinkled her nose, feeling immediately guilty for having done so, glad there was no volunteer leading them.
It was immediately evident that they were not the only two who had decided the dreary Sunday was a good day to visitthe animal shelter. There were couples, families, and employees wearing identical T-shirts leading others through the aisles.
They paused before a Labrador puppy enthusiastically chewing the gate of its enclosure, and then a little further down the same aisle, a Shitzu, eyeing them as if they had personally offended her family. Ainsley smiled, laughed, crouched to scratch ears . . . but he kept moving. The laughter was slightly hollow, and the smile didn’t crinkle his eyes, let alone light the whole room.
Ris bit her lip as she followed him past several crates of dogs, barely slowing. She wasn’t sure whether it was because he had already mentally committed to their waitlisted dog, or if this was something else.He can’t even commit to having hair again. She had expected him to light up immediately upon their arrival, and now she was still waiting.
The next room had fewer visitors milling around. The space was quieter, full of echoes. She tightened her arm around his, feeling as though the air itself were heavier.
Too many large breeds. They may have had sweet dispositions, but their size made her nervous, and even though he had originally hinted that he would like one of these large-jawed behemoths, Ris had put her foot down. She’d never even had a pet before, and had certainly never had a large dog. She was already a bit anxious over this whole venture, and the mere thought of a dog she could potentially lose control of made her palms itch. It was out of the question. At least, for now.
“Who’s this?” Ainsley asked.
The volunteer they’d come upon was crouched before an open cage, grunting when she pushed herself up to meet them. Her smile was also thin, Ris noted.
“This is Fitz. He’s just arrived, so we’re trying to get him acclimated.”
Ris needed to bend a bit to see the dog crouched at the very back of the kennel. Light gray, all bony angles, visible ribs, and huge, dark eyes.
“A greyhound?” Ainsley clarified, bending beside her to peek into the shadows.
“Yup, he was a racer,” the volunteer nodded, sighing. “These are always tough cases. They’re sweet dogs, but they’ve never lived in houses. They’ve never seen stairs. They don’t know anything but cages and transport and the track. This one’s only five, already retired from the track and surrendered.”
She made a sympathetic noise in the back of her throat. “Poor thing. Is that where he’s come from? The racetrack?” She looked up just in time to see the face the volunteer pulled. The human woman sighed heavily.
“No, he’s coming back from his adopted owner, unfortunately. Older gentlemen. He checked in with us a few times in the few months he had him, said Fitz was just finally settling in. We were hopeful. Unfortunately, he recently passed away.”
Ris closed her eyes. This wasn’t what they had come for. Her aim in leaving the house was to hear his laughter, not to have their moods pulled down. Too late, for Ainsley had already dropped into a crouch, soundlessly, stretching out his endless arm.
