Welp. Guess I’ll see you when you get back.
I’m not worried about it. I refuse to stress over anything surrounding this move. I want positive vibes as I step into my new beginning. But I hesitate, biting my lip because I want to bring up Ian. But that’s so obvious.
Fortunately, she saves me by bringing him up first.
I’m soooo sorry we’re not there! I really thought that you were moving next weekend. Want me to give you contact info for a couple of people? Mackay’s brother Ian is there and my friend Becca.
I ran into Ian. He was not impressed with me. I think he thinks I’m too over the top.
He’s wrong then. You’re fabulous. And Ian’s great, he’s just…literal. I’ll give you Becca’s number.
So she obviously doesn’t think Ian and I would be a good fit either.
She didn’t say that but I’m fluent in reading between the lines of text messages. I’ve been honing my skills since middle school.
“I’m not here to meet boys anyway,” I mutter out loud. “I’m here to love on fur friends, not boyfriends.”
K, thanks.
I send a text to the director of the animal shelter I start work at on Tuesday.
Long story but can me and Barrel sleep at the shelter tonight?
Sure. Door code is 1988.
“A man who doesn’t ask questions. I love that.” I feed Barrel his dinner, watch him slurp water all over the floor and himself, and then we head back out and down the stairs.
“Time to feed me now, buddy.”
Everyone in Wanted is very friendly and the food is first rate.
I can feel myself beaming with joy and satisfaction that with every person I talk to, I get further confirmation that I made the right decision in moving here.
My stomach agrees.
I have already eaten a hot brown sandwich but in a slider form, perfect for walking around the festival, with fries, and an elephant ear. Then I went for round two with mac and cheese bites and pineapple whip. I’m happily stuffed and already planning my morning run tomorrow. After the drive to Wanted in the truck and a big dinner, I’m going to be craving it.
I love my morning run. I’ve always enjoyed running and the stillness of early morning. Particularly at this time of the year when the air is crisp and the grass is covered in dew. The promise of the new day ahead is invigorating.
I hesitate at the mint julep stand, a little concerned it might impact my morning run. “How much bourbon is in it?” I ask the woman working the booth.
“Enough.” She gives me a wink.
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
I’m not much of a drinker but it looks so delicious and refreshing, I can’t resist. Barrel is sitting patiently on hisbottom while I pay for the mint julep and within seconds he’s surrounded by a trio of kids around seven years old.
“Can I pet your dog, ma’am?”
This little kid just ma’amed me.
“Yes, you can, and thank you for asking. Though I’m more of a miss than a ma’am. I’m twenty-five.” And…I’m overexplaining. I chuckle at myself. “Anyway, his name is Barrel and he’s very friendly. He likes head rubs.”
“He’s so soft,” the boy says, running his hands gently over Barrel’s fur.
My dog’s tongue flops out and he settles in to be adored. While the boy pets his head, a little girl scratches his back.
Amused, I turn back to collect my mint julep and find myself face to face with Ian Lennox.
