“You remembered,” I said, and my voice cracked.
“I remember everything you tell me.”
“I told a dog.”
“You told me.”
I crossed the distance between us and threw my arms around his neck. He caught me, pulled me in, lifted me off the floor and spun me once, my feet leaving the ground. I buried my face in his neck, breathed him in. The peonies on my desk, his skin, the warmth of his arms, it was too much and not enough at the same time.
He set me down. His hands stayed on my waist.
“Have dinner with me tonight,” he said.
“Okay.”
“I’ll pick the place.”
“Okay.”
“Stop saying okay and go back to your desk before I keep you in here all day.”
I laughed, wiped my eyes with the back of my hand, and went back to my desk. The peonies were still everywhere. I moved a bloom off my keyboard and started working and every time I breathed in, my chest ached in the best way.
After work I stopped by Bonalisa first. Peter’s cake was lopsided, frosted unevenly in pink with “HAPPY BDAY ANDREA” in wobbly letters that sloped downhill. It was the ugliest damn cake I’d ever seen and I loved it. Mary hugged me so hard my ribs popped and Peter stood behind her looking proud of his disaster.
“Tell me everything about the flowers,” Mary said, cutting me a slice.
“He remembered my favorite. From years ago. I mentioned it once and he remembered.”
“The man has a steel trap for a brain when it comes to you.” She handed me the plate. “Did you cry?”
“No.”
She looked at me.
“A little. At my desk. Very briefly. It doesn’t count.”
“It absolutely counts. You cried at work over flowers. That’s love.”
“That’s allergies.”
“Sure it is.” She grinned. “Where’s he taking you tonight?”
“He wouldn’t tell me.”
“Ooh, mystery dinner. That’s either very romantic or very serial killer.”
“With him it could genuinely go either way.”
I ate the cake. It tasted like box mix and too much frosting and I loved every bite. Buddy was in the back pen, his tail going the second he saw me. He’d filled out since the last time I fostered him, coat shinier, less flinch in his posture. I sat on the floor and he put his head in my lap and I fed him a crumb of frosting that Mary pretended not to see.
“He’s doing better,” I said.
“He’s doing great. Still shy with new people but he trusts us now. He trusts you especially.”
I scratched behind his ears and he leaned into my hand. I wanted to take him home so badly it hurt, but I still didn’t have the space or the hours, not yet. Someday.
I hugged them both again, promised to visit on the weekend, and left to meet him.
