Page 42 of If You Like It, I Love It

“Enzo, you’ve been working your ass off. You’re exhausted. You can’t sleep out here on the ground with me.”

“Who says?” If loving her means loving her alpaca, which tonight means sleeping on the ground in case he has another episode, then that’s what I’m going to do.

She opens her mouth to argue, but no words come out. Instead, she reaches for a blanket and spreads it on the ground. I lay another on top of it, and we place the pillows the way they normally lay on her bed.

Oliver beds down nearby, calmly lowering his head. I lie on my back and lift my arm so Joni can rest her head on my shoulder. She hesitates, and I don’t think it’s just because she’s worried about Oliver.

“Come here, beautiful. Let’s talk about the stars.” She needs a distraction, something that carries no stress and requires no emotional labor.

“You know all the galaxies, don’t you?” she asks, scooting closer to me.

“Probably not all of them.”

“Were you a Boy Scout?” She snuggles against me, and I inhale the fresh scent of her hair.

“That’s why I’m always prepared.”

“For what?”

“Whatever you need.”

22

Joni

Dr. Abernathy calls with the lab results. I dropped the vials off in a hurry this morning because I didn’t want to leave Oliver home alone for too long. His numbers are concerning—not dire, but for sure not great. And these numbers don’t get better on their own. If anything, they can get much worse in the blink of an eye.

There are protocols to help with organ malfunction, but the best treatment is to eradicate the cause, and when the cause is likely depression from not having alpaca companions, the protocol for that is obviously adding more alpacas.

I never meant to have one alpaca, let alone a herd. Three is the optimal minimum number, and that may sound like a small number for a herd, but it would lead to big numbers for food and healthcare expenses. Triple my current expenditures. Triple my time. Probably triple my stress, too. But if it could save Oliver . . .

“Where would I even find two more alpacas?” I ask Dr. Abernathy after we go over the bloodwork.

“Are you kidding? Do you know how many people abandon alpacas after being tricked into believing they’re a great money-making venture?”

“A lot, I know. But the rescue farms don’t sell them, right?”

“They sometimes allow adoptions.”

“Do you really think they’d allow me to adopt after I kept Oliver isolated for so long?”

“For what it’s worth, I know a vet who’d be willing to vouch for you.”

“Thanks. The vetting process probably takes a while.”

“Maybe, but the sooner you get started, the faster it’ll go.”

I can’t believe I’m seriously considering this. It’s happening at a disarming pace, and part of me wants to slow down, but I know Oliver could get worse at any minute. There’s no time to analyze this; I’m either willing to do it or I’m not. And if I’m not, I can’t keep Oliver.

I’m the only real home he’s ever known, and it fucking guts me to think about him having to move to a new one, even if it might save him in the long run.

Since Bryan died, I’ve been so proud of myself for not letting grief trick me into any bad decisions. All that back patting while denying the worst decision I could’ve made. I love Oliver, but I took him in on a temporary basis. It was a crisis situation. And then I kept him so I’d have a companion.

No matter what I told myself about how much he needed me, I knew the long-term consequences, and I ignored them completely.

I’m supposed to meet Glynnis and Sabrina at Grin’s this morning, but I can’t leave Oliver alone that long, so I send a text to cancel.

Sabrina calls immediately. “You’re not canceling on us. We’ll come to you.”