“We’ll stick to the plan. The rules. We’re prepared,” Clark says.
We practiced kissing! The tingles still haven’t settled down. However, have I prepared myself emotionally? I’ll get back to you on that.
The adoption fair is being held at the Omaha Botanical Garden, which also hosts the weekly Farmer’s Market, so there will be a lot of foot traffic. The parking lot is packed. We circle with the dogs poking their heads out the windows, eager to run free.
The setting is perfect and above all, I’m confident some rescues will find their forever homes today. The spring bulbsare in full bloom with colorful tulips in every color, creating a cheerful backdrop for the rows of kennels and play areas.
Volunteers in Love at First Wag t-shirts mill about and a local news crew shoots footage, plus a few influencers I recognize, make videos.
“This is bigger than I thought,” I mutter when we find a spot.
Clark immediately comes around to my side and opens the door. This is new. He extends his hand. I blink a few times, wondering if he wants me to pass him something or?—?
Oh! He wants me to take it. As his fingers wrap around mine, his palm is just the right temperature, slightly calloused from hockey, and is like a perfect glove. And his lips. Those are perfect too. The thought of our kiss sends shivers across my skin all over again.
I shudder a little breath at his continued touch.
If I were smart, I’d zip up my heart and throw away the key, right now. There’s a wishing well nearby. I could toss it in there and never find it again.
A woman with a clipboard spots us and rushes over. “Clark! April! Perfect timing. I’m Sandra, the campaign coordinator. We’re so excited to have you here.”
She launches into rapid-fire instructions about the schedule, the photo stations, and the interview with the local news and a few spots with social media influencers for reels. My head is spinning by the time Sandra finishes.
“Any questions?” she asks.
“Just one,” I manage. “Can we visit with the dogs?”
There are many reasons I work with canines, but a big one is that they are grounding. They get me out of my head and into my happy place.
Her face lights up. “Of course, come right this way!”
The next two hours are a blur of puppies, kittens, andpeople. We hold tiny chihuahuas and massive mutts. We pose for photos with families meeting their new pets. We answer questions about how we met (true story: I found his dog) and how long we’ve been together (whopper of the decade: dating on and off for years and now serious).
Through it all, Clark makes me think he’s done this before. According to our Posh pasta primavera conversation, he has. He remembers to hold my hand. He stands close enough that I can smell his evergreen scent. When a photographer instructs us to look at each other “like we’re in love,” he gazes at me with such a smoldering intensity that I forget my name.
Someone calls for my attention and it takes a tap on the shoulder for me to snap out of it.
But something is off. I’m stiff. Awkward. Like I’m playing a character instead of being myself.
During a break between photo sessions, I lean close and whisper, “Are we doing this right?”
“I don’t know. It feels weird.”
Ba ha ha. I’m such a silly girl. So he’s not actually in love with me and that’s why it seems so easy for him.
“Very weird.”
“Maybe we’re trying too hard?”
Before I can respond, a volunteer brings over a scared-looking beagle mix. “This is Lulu. She’s been with us for six months and is very shy.”
I kneel and Lulu immediately comes to me, tail wagging tentatively. Within minutes, she’s in my lap, licking my face while I laugh. We’re close to the belly rub stage and I feel like myself again. Phew. That’s a relief.
I look up to find Clark watching me with a soft expression that makes my heart feel like sunshine after months of dreary winter weather.
“Hey, you,” he says, gently tugging on one of my curls.
Unable to suppress my grin, I say, “Hey, to you too.”
