“We were just going to spend time with a few of them before we coordinated a visit from Governor Harris,” I explain, “but it seems Jamie can’t help himself and wants to bring one home.”
“To be fair, I did want to take home four. This is a good compromise.”
“I suppose.” I pet the little pup’s head. “She is precious.”
“All adoptions are handled through the front desk. There’s a small fee for the license, and you’ll receive vouchers and coupons for anything your new dog may need.”
“Does she have a name?” Jamie asks, unable to tear his eyes away from the tiny creature.
“We’ve called her Angel, but with a little training, dogs can easily answer to other names.”
“No,” Jamie insists. “Angel is perfect. Could we leave her with you once we pay the fee to buy everything we need for her?”
“Of course.”
Jamie excitedly hands over Angel, then grabs my hand and makes a beeline for the reception desk. “Slow down,” I laugh,trying to keep up. “There’s no rush. If we have to reschedule a meeting or two, it’ll be fine.”
Nearly out of breath as we reach the desk, he pulls out his wallet. “All right, let’s do this.”
“I, uh, do what exactly?” the woman replies, and this time I ensure I have her name—Candice.
“What my friend here is trying to say is that we met Angel and he’d love to adopt her,” I reply, but there’s a flash of hurt on Jamie’s face. I mouth, “What?” to him, but he just shakes his head. It could be because I called him a friend. Unfortunately, until we make our relationship public, that’s all we can be.
“I’d like to adopt Angel,” he confirms, then glances at a price list on the wall listing adoption fees and any additional licensing fees.
Candice types something on the computer. “Great, if you live here in Sacramento, you’ll have a one-year license, and since Angel is an adult dog who has been with us for a while, your fee is only $25. I’ll just need to see some ID to add your information into the system.” Jamie passes her his Canadian passport, and Candice frowns. “I’m sorry, but I’d need identification that proves you live here. Do you have a lease agreement or something?”
Jamie begins searching through his phone for the agreement, but I cover his device with my hand. “Jamie,” I say softly, “I’ll adopt her. That way if anything happens, you’ll know she’ll have a safe home. But to be clear, she’ll be yours and stay next door until you have her fully potty trained.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. You’re helping me through this pregnancy, so I’ll help you with Angel.” I hand Candice my driver’s license, and she puts my information in the system.
Jamie tucks his phone in his back pocket, then interlaces his fingers with mine, squeezing once, but doesn’t let go. We joked about playing house last week, but this doesn’t feel like pretending. No matter how hard I put on the brakes, we seem to be picking up speed instead. I take my hand back, just in case someone notices.
Once everything is processed, Candice passes us a copy of the paperwork, dozens of coupons and vouchers, a leash, and a collar. We explain that we’ll be back in an hour once we purchase food and everything Angel will need at home. I hate leaving her here, but we’ll need to dog-proof his apartment and ensure she has food and maybe a crate. There shouldn’t be much to do, since Jamie has minimal furniture, but it has me thinking about everything I’ll need to do with my own place. I have months to ensure my home is safe for a baby, but it’s more of the mental load—adding one more thing I need to do to a list.
We make our way to a local small business that specializes in dog grooming and supplies. The woman who owns it is incredibly helpful, researching the best foods for the breed and shows us our options. Even though the vouchers won’t work at her store, I’ll happily pay full price for anything to make sure Angel has the best. Jamie picks out a black collar, and while he has a tag engraved with her name and his phone number, I find the matching harness and leash. After we decide on the perfect dog bed and pick up a few other essentials, Jamie has his credit card out faster than I can, then we make our way back to the shelter.
Jamie retrieves Angel, and I ping Olivia to let her know I’ll be working from home for the rest of the day, then request to havea car service pick up Jamie and his new addition. He has a few things to work out at the office, so I offer to help get Angel settled in while he finishes up.
His apartment is smaller than mine, but the layout is very similar. Over the weekend, he unpacked several of his boxes and even added a few plants. It reminds me of his place back in Ottawa, but significantly less green. I put out a bowl of food and water for Angel, then do a quick sweep to ensure there’s nothing she can get into. Everything seems to be all right, and I take a seat on his couch, though it’s more of a loveseat with only two cushions.
Angel paws at me. I’m not sure if she’ll be able to hop up on her own or not, so I help her onto my lap. Just like at the shelter, she gives me kisses, and it’s no wonder why Jamie needed to bring her home; she’s such an affectionate girl.
It hits me—Jamie’s so full of love, and his whole life he’s only had his mom. He never had a dog growing up, brothers or sisters. His dad wasn’t in the picture, and though it was no one’s fault, it still breaks my heart. We haven’t talked much about his dating life before me, mostly because it was almost non-existent. Jamie deserves more than a sweet dog loving him, he deserves someone in his life who will pour as much love into him as he does for everyone. The thought of anyone else being with him sours my stomach.
I don’t care that I’ve only been dating him for a short time, I’ve never felt this kind of connection with anyone else. When I think about what I want, and what a perfect life would look like after my child is born, I see Jamie. If I’m lucky, maybe one day we’ll promise forever to each other, but for now, I’m going to lean in and enjoy every second being with him and his new pup, even if it has to be in secret.
27
Jamie
SIX WEEKS LATER
Aubrey has to be one of the most impatient people I’ve ever known. She can’t wait another month or two to find out the gender of her baby, so she went in for blood tests. We’re supposed to find out sometime later today. I don’t understand what the big deal is, because she’s going to love that little plum—though I’m not sure if it’s actually the size of a plum, because according to her last ultrasound the baby is measuring about a week or so behind schedule. Aubrey’s not a short woman, and her donor claimed to be 6’1”. I chuckle to myself, thinking back to one of her rants about online dating—the guy was probably only 5’10”. Still, I worry it could be due to the stress of work, not genetics.
We’ve been ships passing in the night, or I suppose the day. Most evenings when we’re both in town, we’re together. But with our alternating travel schedules to make sure one of us is here for Angel, I almost never see Aubrey. We talk every day, but the past six weeks have been torture, worse than the month after Aubrey left Ottawa. Is this going to be what it’s like for the rest of our lives? I don’t know how much more of this I can stand, but I’m grateful for what time we do have together.
