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I hold my breath.

Beside me, I sense that Quint might be holding his, too.

Rosa opens the door to Luna’s kennel.

Luna—ever curious and energetic—wastes no time in scooting out through the open door. But she pauses when she spies Lennon lazing in the late-afternoon sun beside the small in-ground pool. The pool that will be theirs to share now, assuming they get along.

I can’t believe how nervous I am. This is important. I want them to be friends.Bestfriends. There’s even a silly little part of me that hopes they might be something more. Because if you were going to be shipped off to a zoo to live out the rest of your days surrounded by glass walls and zookeepers, wouldn’t it be lovely to at least be stuck there with your soul mate?

Luna pushes herself up on her front flippers and waddles hesitantly in Lennon’s direction. Suddenly, his head snaps up and he turns his face toward her. I wonder how well he can see. I don’t think he’s completely blind yet, but it’s clear that he’s already starting to rely on his other senses. He rolls over and pushes up onto his flippers, too.

There’s a standoff, one facing the other, the pool between them.

Then Luna lets out a happy bark and pushes forward, sliding into the water. She does a few barrel rolls, before climbing out next to Lennon.

I press my hands to my mouth, waiting to see his reaction. He cocks his head to one side. He looks confused, maybe even annoyed to have his sanctuary invaded by this stranger.

But then he lifts one flipper and gives it a shake, just like he greeted me before.

Then he does a belly flop right on top of Luna.

I let out a laugh and grab Quint’s arm. His other hand lands on top of mine and squeezes. We meet each other’s eyes, sharing mutual dopey grins.

The meeting quickly dissolves into hijinks as Luna and Lennon start chasing each other around the pool deck, dipping in and out of the water. There are times when they start to look aggressive, but it never lasts long. They’re playing, testing each other’s limits. Getting to know each other.

While they may or may not be pinniped soul mates, they do seem to be fast friends. I wilt with relief, knowing that Lennon is going to be just fine. It all feels rather meant-to-be.

“All right,” says Rosa, clapping her hands. “I’ll call that a success. Now let’s let them get acquainted, shall we?”

The volunteers scatter, but Quint and I linger behind.

Quint starts to shift away, and only then do I realize his hand is still on top of mine. And then it’s gone.

I pull my hand away, too, because… well, it would be weird not to. No matter how much I might be wishing otherwise.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Yeah,” I say. “I think that might have been the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Even better than the release party?”

“Does it make me a bad person if I say yes?”

“Shauna! What are you wearing?”

Quint and I swivel our attention toward the next pool. Morgan’s outburst was filled with such consternation, I half expect to see Shauna in a bedazzledleotard and fishnet stockings. But no—she’s dressed the same as any of us, in her yellow T-shirt and faded blue jeans.

Oh, and cowboy boots.

Judging from Morgan’s stare, it’s the boots that led to the outburst.

Shauna tsks as she tosses a bucket of fish into a pool, to a chorus of happy barks from the seals. “Don’t you start with your nonsense, Morgan.”

Aghast, Morgan spreads her arms wide, balancing on the crutches beneath each arm. “They look real. Tell me they’re not real.” She hobbles forward a couple of steps, though she and Shauna are separated by a chain-link fence.

“I’ll tell you what I choose to put on my feet is none of your business.” Shauna hangs the empty bucket from the crook of her elbow and puts her hands on her hips. “I know you have big opinions on this stuff, Morgan, but you need to learn to respect other people’s choices, too. These boots were a treat to myself, and I happen to like them.”

“You work at an animal rescue center!” Morgan swings one crutch around, indicating the courtyard full of wildlife. Her voice has risen now, drawing the attention from other volunteers. I have that feeling like we should turn away from the drama, but find it impossible. Then Morgan points at one of the seals with the broom handle. “Would you wear one ofthem? How about a nice seal-fur coat, if you happened to ‘like’ it?”