“I think I’m allowed to feel soppy after what we’ve just done.”
“Fair enough.”
He kisses my nose. “I’d like you to stay, but I absolutely understand if you’d rather go back to the cottage.”
“Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“Whatever you want.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.
I am tempted. It would be so easy to go to bed with him now and have him wrapped around me all night.
But I need to call in at Four Square—the ‘eight-till-late’ supermarket—and pick up a few bits as I don’t have any food at the cottage. It makes sense during the week to stay there so I have all my clothes for work the next morning. And it just feels… right. What we’ve just done is necessary and perfect, but we both need time. The dust has to settle so we both feel right about how we’ve done this.
I collect my backpack, and Archer picks up Queenie and accompanies me to the door. I kiss her head, then lift up and kiss him.
“I might not see you tomorrow,” he says. “I’m working in the morning, and I’m meeting a few possible new members of staff tomorrow at two.”
“Okay. I saw the sign today. It looked great.”
“Yeah, we’re getting there. No going back now.” He widens his eyes as if to say, for good or for bad, and smiles.
“You’re doing a fantastic job,” I say softly. “It’s going to be an amazing place, I just know it.”
“Thank you.” He gives me a final kiss, and I go out.
I get on my bike, wave goodbye in case he’s watching, and head out of the gate and down the hill.
It’s nearly dark, but the streetlamps are on, and it’s not far to the Ark. I grew up here, and I’ve always felt safe, even at night. Still filled with a warm glow, I head for the supermarket, thinking about hiswords,No going back now. Creating the center is a huge undertaking, and he’s doing all that alongside this personal adventure.
I feel a twinge of worry, and try to snuff it out like a candle, unsuccessfully. I have to be careful not to make things more difficult for him. I want to be someone he can lean on, someone who supports him when things get tough. I just don’t want to become something he has to carry.
Chapter Eighteen
Archer
I take Queenie to work at the Community Wellbeing Center the next morning for the first time. I put her crate in my car in case she finds it difficult to settle, but from the moment my first client walks into my office, she proves to be a roaring success. She’s excited to meet new people without going mega crazy, and she treats everyone as if they’re her new best friend. She looks up at one of my older patients with adoring eyes as he tells her how much his late wife would have loved her, and sits between a couple whose body language normally illustrates their frustration and resentment, but today they both turn towards her, laughing as they fuss her and reminisce over the dogs they’ve had, bringing them together for the first time.
I take her out to the garden in between each client, and make sure she has a couple of toys and a chew for when I’m busy, but she seems happy to stay at my side, and looks at me when I talk to her as if she understands every word.
I work until lunch, then, leaving my car at home, I clip her lead on and head up to the PAWS Center. Clouds move quickly across the sky as we walk, and the breeze is on the brisk side, but the sun is out. Queenie pulls a little at the beginning, but I have some treats in my pocket, and by the time I reach the center, she’s trotting by my side looking up at me expectantly. A few more walks like that and she’ll have learned to walk to heel. She’s going to be easy to train, which is helpful.
We go through the gate, past the sign, and walk up the drive to the center. It’s busy today. Isaac’s here with his three mates—one is doing some rewiring, another is refitting some old window frames, while Isaac and the other guy are taking out the old kitchen cupboards. Two guys are also here cleaning out the water tanks, so we’ll have running water soon.
Cullen and Isla are here, too, out the back. Isla’s kneeling on a pad, removing weeds from the patio, and Cullen’s just finishing mowing the lawn. His German Shepherd, Ghost, comes over to say hello to Queenie, and she greets him with a wagging tail—another positive sign that she’s going to work well at the center.
Cullen mows the last strip of uncut grass and empties the cuttings, then comes over and bends to fuss Queenie. “How’s she doing?” he asks.
“Really good. She settled very easily, and my clients loved her.”
“Yeah, she’s going to be great.” He ruffles her hair, and she licks his face and makes him laugh.
“I need to work on her recall,” I say. “She has to come when she’s called. I was wondering whether it’s something you can help with?”
“Yeah, we’ll get her sorted, don’t worry. You got any treats?”
I take the ones out of my pocket and hand them to him.
“Come on, Queenie,” he says, and he takes her onto the newly mown lawn. Before long, he’s getting her to sit and stay while he backs away, and rewarding her when she comes to him.
