“Well, that’s good because I would never lie to you.” Andre spoke the words earnestly. “My mother taught me never to lie. I mean unless you’re really going to hurt someone’s feelings or, like, you know—” He flailed the hand not holding Daphne’s leash.
I’d given him the responsibility to see how he handled her. And he was taking care of her perfectly.
She gazed up at him as if askinghey, dude, why did we stop walking?
“I think I know.” I grabbed the poop bag. “Sometimes we really don’t have a choice. We do what has to be done.”
“Like when I tell you I’m fine and I’m really not.” He let out a breath. “Shit.”
My neighbor had put out their garbage bin tonight for tomorrow’s pickup and since I knew them, I snagged the bag from Andre and put it in her container. Then I grasped his hand. “It’s okay for you to not be okay. And I don’t mind if you’re honest with me about how you’re doing. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want to know. I’m sorry you’re freaking out—completely legitimately, if you ask me. Tell me what I can do to help.”
“This.” He squeezed my hand. “This helps.”
“Hi, Zahir.”
A voice called from down the street and I instantly recognized Loriana.
The vivacious redhead was the librarian in charge and fancied herself a matchmaker. Not always a good one…but her heart was in the right place. She’d tried setting me up last month. Possibly figuring a year of mourning had been enough. She hadn’t appreciated I wasn’t going to ever get over Marty’s death.
Except you’re holding another man’s hand right now.
In support.
Or so you tell yourself.
Sometimes I hated arguing with my inner voice. “Hey, Loriana. Mitch.” Loriana’s husband was a tall, distinguished Black man who was the epitome of quiet restraint. But he loved his wife with a fierceness I recognized and admired. They loved each other much as Marty and I had.
Andre didn’t drop my hand.
Daphne started straining on her leash. In response, Andre followed her. Likely he assumed if I had a problem with this, then I would speak up.
Loriana crouched and held out her hand. “Hello, Miss Daphne. Such a good girl. Are you sniffing me? Do I get kisses? You know I love kisses.” She used that singsongy voice that drove some dog owners to distraction but that I loved.
Daphne always responded positively to that voice.
I smiled. “She’s very happy to see you.”
“She’ll be even happier to see me.” Mitch produced a dog treat from his pocket. Interesting he did this because they only had Loriana’s rescue cat, Plato.
I nodded and Mitch held the treat for Daphne. Who accepted with great gusto.
Mitch straightened. He held out his hand to Andre. “Mitch Alexander. And my lovely wife, Loriana.”
On cue, Loriana waved. Even as she continued to lavish my dog with tons of attention and praise.
Andre released my hand to shake Mitch’s. “Andre.” Again, no last name.
“Nice to meet you, Andre.” Mitch’s smile was wide. “Do you live in Mission City? Or visiting? Or newcomer?”
Loriana nudged his shin. “That’s my job.”
Mitch laughed.
“What job is that?” Andre’s brow furrowed.
Loriana scratched Daphne behind the ears. “Interrogator in chief.” She rose. “But I see you and Zahir are walking together, and I didn’t want to stick my nose—”
Mitch snorted.
