Of course I got your text message. I’m choosing to ignore it. Don’t be soclingy.
Delilah Sinclair, unapologetically screening her cellphonecommunications.
“Ah!”I yell, lifting my hands to shield myself from the relentless doggie drool. “Duncan!”
I can hear him laughing somewhere overhead, doing absolutely nothing to help extract me from the onslaught of canine affection. With considerable effort, I manage to get a grip on the small furry body, still wriggling like a hula girl on speed against my chest. My eyes crack open and look straight into a set of glossy brown irises, staring out at me with sheer exuberance from a hairyredface.
Oh, boy. What is it with me and redheads,lately?
His lolling tongue makes another swipe for my cheek. I set him on the floor and scramble upright before he can give me another bath, wiping my face dry with the sleeves of Luca’s sweatshirt. The tiny dog sits by my feet, head cocked up at me like I’ve just promised a lifetime supply of Milk-Bones. Its short tail wagsfuriously.
As I hold eye contact with the mini monster, I have to admit it’s pretty cute. If I were to sort of person who was interested in the commitment of a pet… Which, I’m not.Atall.
Right?
Crap on acreampuff.
I swallow and forcibly move my gaze up to stare at mybrother.
“You know how I feelaboutpets.”
“I know, I’m sorry.” He scoops up the dog and returns it to the leather carrier. It stays put for about two seconds before jumping back out and scampering off to explore the rest of my apartment, ears flapping in the wind, clumsy paws sliding against the slipperyhardwood.
“Where’s it going?” I hiss, heading after it. I think I spot a flash of red disappearing around a tower of boxes in the corner, but it’s moving so fast I lose sight of it again. “Duncan, please tell me this creature ishousebroken.”
“Creature? He’s a puppy, not aminotaur.”
“You missed the pertinent part of thatcomment.”
“Relax, he’s housebroken.” Duncan pauses. “For the most part. Ithink.”
“Youthink?” I hiss, bending to check behind my writing desk. “You don’tknow? Isn’t heyourdog?”
“He’s Susie’s. Or…” Duncan’s voice cracks. “He wasSusie’s.”
I turn to look athim. “Was?”
Duncan looks more defeated than ever. “Webrokeup.”
“What?!”
“Yeah.” He sighs tiredly. “Last week. She left me for a guy who works in finance. His name is Al. He has a 401K and steady benefits and exercises at her gym a few times a week — that’s where they met. On the freaking stair-master. How boringisthat?”
I hesitate. On the one hand, I can’t exactly blame Susie for breaking up with Duncan. The man is a certified mess. On the other, he’s my brother, and I’m pretty much required to take his side in this scenario nomatterwhat.
“Did she give you a reason forleaving?”
“She said she needed someonedependable, that she couldn’t — and I quote —waste her good egg years on a dilettante manchild.”
“Harsh,” Imurmur.
“Tell meaboutit.”
“You guys were together, what, sevenmonths?”
“Eight.” He sighs. “Really thought she wastheone.”
“I’m sorry, D. That’sshitty.”