“I told myself from the beginning that when you left me, I’d make it easy.” His chin tips up to the night sky. “My God.” Are his words a prayer? A curse? I can’t tell which. He brings his gaze back down to me. “I was so sure you’d leave. It was just a matter ofwhen. Notif.”
“How could I leave you?” I ask, incredulous. My spine straightens, but the movement doesn’t come close to giving me the height I need to stare him down. “You see me, Drew. That’s what you said. And you’re the only person who does. The only one who ever has.”
Leave him? How could he be so hard-headed.Such a Taurus.I love him more than anything. And, in truth, it was best he didn’t fight for me. But right now, I just want to shove him.
He must read all this in my face because if it’s even possible, he pulls me closer. “I fucked up, Evie. I thought, no matter what, I didn’t deserve you.”
I’ve heard this before, and hearing it again doesn’t make me feel any better. “So what’s changed?”
His slow nod doesn’t make me feel better either. “That’s… that’s a good question.” His voice is so low, the words almost get lost in the night air.
My abs tense. If he still doesn’t believe in himself, how can he believe in us?
His arms around me loosen, but he still doesn't drop them. “Can we…” He pauses, and I think I hear him swallow. “Can we keep walking? I’ll try to put it in words, but I should… we should get back to Grandma Quincy’s.”
A jolt goes through me and I gasp. “Shit! I forgot,” I blurt, feeling like an idiot. “Let’s go.” I squat down and grab the Purina, but Drew wrests it from me and tucks it back under his arm so he can take my hand again. We walk, this time moving faster.
But then I look down at myself and frown. “I-I’m not… dressed appropriately,” I say to my pullover and yoga pants. I glance over. Drew may have lost his jacket, but with shirt, tie, and slacks, he still looks as formal as ever.
Beautiful, too.
He gives me a quick shake of his head as we walk. “You look great.”
I stop. “But Drew… she was your grandmother. I want to show her respe—”
He squeezes my hand and looks down into my eyes. “Exactly. She was my grandmother. And she wanted you at my side, no matter what you’re wearing.” He gives me rueful smile. “Besides. It’s after dark. Most of her friends have probably gone home. It’ll mostly be the family.”
I know what this means. His mother will be there. Screw my clothes. I’m not about to let him face her alone.
“Fair enough,” I say, moving in step with him again.
“Oh,” Drew says a moment later. “Does Gemini get along with other dogs?”
“He loves other dogs,” I gush. “Did one of your cousins bring theirs?”
“No.” He says nothing else. I glance up at him, and see the corner of his mouth has turned up. I’m curious, still I don’t press.
Mrs. Vivian’s driveway is full of cars. Even if it’s just family, the house is going to be bursting at the seams.
“C’mon. We’ll get this upstairs and then join them,” Drew says, leading me around the side of the house.
But as soon as we reach the stairs, Gem stops, tail erect, nose to the ground. And the moment after that, I hear scratching and whimpering behind the apartment door. I look up as Drew turns Gemini loose, and my dog scrambles up the steps in record time.
“You have a dog?” I look at Drew, and he just shrugs, grinning.
It’s the grin that makes my heart startthump-thump-thumpingin my chest. I climb the stairs almost as fast as Gemini, who’s now wagging and wiggling with impatience, nose firmly wedged to the door jamb. He’s sniffing and snuffling, blind to everything else in the world. Scratching and excited whining comes from inside.
Drew joins me on the landing and lifts his chin to the door. “Open up, Guppy.”
I turn the knob and push the door open to see a little black nose at the tip of a charcoal muzzle before the open doorway becomes a blur of gold and dark gray swirls.
“Oh my goodness!” I squeal. “He’s so little!”
Gemini and the little scrap circle each other, tails high, nose to hindquarters in a spirited dog greeting.
“She,” Drew mutters over the rapidclickety-clackof dog nails on the hardwood.
But I can’t process what he’s said because I’ve looked from the dogs to the rest of his apartment. “Oh my God,” I breathe. The futon frame is empty, its mattress leaning against the overturned table. Chairs lie on their sides. His armoire stands open, a sweatshirt hanging half out of it and clothes in a heap on the floor as if the dresser has coughed everything up. Books and CD cases are opened and scattered everywhere.