Page 22 of Pugs & Kisses

B ryson tracked the slow, methodic up-and-down motion of the stark white sail bobbing along Lake Pontchartrain. The movement had lulled him into this peaceful, relaxed state that he couldn’t seem to shake himself out of.

To be fair, he hadn’t tried to shake himself out of it. Staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows in his newly purchased condo, it was the first time he truly felt at peace with his decision to move back to Louisiana. He could stand here doing this exact thing for hours.

He glanced at his watch.

Shit. It had been nearly a half hour since he’d stopped to take in the view. The can of sparkling water he’d been drinking had long since lost its fizz, and Bella had since awoken from her nap, but every time he thought of stepping away, something on the water caught his attention.

“I’m not going to get any work done when I’m at home, will I, Bells?”

His dog peered up at him, then went back to gnawing on her chew toy.

As much as he wanted to, spending the day staring out at the calm lake waters was not on the agenda.

The packet of new-hire paperwork he’d been putting off couldn’t be ignored any longer, not if he wanted health insurance.

The forms he’d been asked to complete in the condo association’s management portal weren’t as urgent, but it made sense to knock those out while he was at it.

Bryson tore himself away from his outstanding view—the number one reason he’d offered over asking price for this condo to ensure he got it—and went into the kitchen for another drink.

His phone rang, a picture of his mom at his graduation from Tuskegee filling the screen.

“Hey, Ma,” Bryson answered. He put her on speaker and set the phone on the counter. “How was the recital last night?”

She and his dad had traveled to Baton Rouge to his nephew’s choir recital.

Bryson would have made the seventy-mile trip if anyone had bothered to tell him about it.

He’d called and gotten her voicemail. When he called again a few minutes later, she’d sent a text telling him to stop calling because the recital had just begun.

His “What recital?” text went unanswered until after the concert concluded.

He owed his brother a call so he could chew him out for not telling him about last night’s performance. The whole point of moving back home was to do things like attend choir recitals and baseball games and whatever else his nephews had going on in their lives.

Bryson knew it was probably just an oversight. They were still getting used to him being back home. But he’d still felt like shit for the rest of the night.

“The recital was fine,” his mother answered. “Marcus’s voice cracked during his solo, so of course he now thinks the world is over.”

“Eighth grade,” Bryson said. “Tough age. Are you ready for dinner next Saturday night?” he asked, grabbing another can of water from the refrigerator.

“I still think you should let me hire a car to pick you two up and drive you here. You and Dad can spend the night and I’ll drive you back on Sunday. I’ll even go to church.”

“Uh-huh,” his mother grunted. “Did you go today?”

“I plead the Fifth.”

“You need to find a church family out there,” she said. “You’re not going to drive an hour and a half to Houma for church every Sunday.”

“Maybe I will make the trip every weekend. At least that way I’ll get to see you and Pop on a regular basis.”

“Don’t make promises you’re not going to keep to me or to the Lord,” she said. “Anyway, I called to tell you that your father and I can’t make the dinner next Saturday.”

“What? Why not?” He popped the top on his water.

“What was that noise? Is someone shooting?”

Bryson rolled his eyes. “Nobody is shooting. I told you my condo is in a safe neighborhood. Now, why can’t you two come over for dinner?”

“Because our favorite cruise line emailed a last-minute deal that we can’t pass up. Fifty dollars a night for a balcony room.”

“Another cruise?” Bryson took the phone off speaker and cradled it between his shoulder and ear. “You literally just got back home from a cruise.”

“Fifty dollars per night, Bryson! Do you know how big of a savings that is?”

“It’s not really saving anything. They only sent the deal because they know you’re going to spend twice the cost of a regular cruise in the casino.”

“We’ve already paid for it,” she said. “We’ll do dinner when we get back. I’ll even cook for you.”

“What if I wanted to cook for you ?” He didn’t want to cook. He never wanted to cook. But he was in full-on ornery teenager mode now.

Bryson pulled a red Solo cup from the pack he’d bought yesterday—he had a date with the homeware department at Macy’s tomorrow—and emptied the can of sparkling water into it.

“What was the point of me moving back home if you and Pop are never here?”

“You expected us to change our lifestyle just because you decided to move back? And you’re not home; you’re in New Orleans.”

“Closer to home,” he amended, modulating his tone because, first of all, he was too old to keep up the ornery teenager crap and, second, his mother was at least partially right.

He hadn’t expected his parents to drop everything and race over whenever he called, but he thought they would carve out at least some time for him.

The irony that he was the one complaining about not seeing them when it had been the other way around for so many years was not lost on him.

“How long is this upcoming cruise?” Bryson asked.

“Only seven days,” she said. “Look at it this way. It will give you more time to make your new place presentable.”

“What makes you think my new place isn’t already presentable?”

He gave the open-concept kitchen and living room a quick glance.

Save for his sofa and a coffee table his neighbor two doors down had offered after their college-aged son returned home with excess furniture, the space was bare.

His own furniture was scheduled to be delivered from Raleigh on Thursday, but maybe he could pick up some decor when he shopped for plates and glasses.

He could use a vase, maybe a few paintings. And a rug. A rug would be good.

“Fine,” Bryson said. “But please let this be the last time you cancel, Mama. Being able to see you and Pop on a regular basis was the biggest factor in my moving here.”

“We’re not canceling, just postponing,” she said. “Now, tell me, how are you liking your new apartment?”

He looked out the window again and grinned.

“I’m loving it,” he said. “And it’s a condo, not an apartment. It’s my home.”

“Homes have yards.”

“Why are you so bullheaded?”

“Because I’ve earned the right to be,” his mother said. “I need to go. I refuse to have my picture taken on formal night in that same green dress. I told your father since we’re getting the cruise for such a cheap price, he can afford to buy me a new gown. I’ll talk to you later, honey.”

“Talk to you later,” Bryson said. “I love you, Ma. Tell Pop he owes me a phone call.”

“You know that man hates talking on the phone.”

“Too bad. I can’t manage to see you two in person, so a phone call will have to do.”

Just as he ended the call with his mother, a text from Evie popped up. The enormity of the smile that stretched across his face at the sight of her name on his phone was embarrassing as hell. It’s a good thing Bella was the only one here to witness it.

“Don’t tell anyone how infatuated I am, Bells. Keep this between you and me.”

Bella didn’t bother to respond.

Bryson tapped on Evie’s message. It was a link to a website.

“Whoa,” Bryson said when he clicked on it. He sent her a text.

Nice work!

A few moments crept by before she responded.

Right? But I can’t take credit. The three dots appeared, then, Can you talk?

Bryson immediately called, because apparently, displaying even a drop of chill when it came to her was beyond his capabilities.

“So, who deserves the credit for the website?” Bryson asked when the call connected. “It’s awesome.”

“That would be Ashanti’s younger sister, Kara. She put that together in a single afternoon.”

“Damn. Even more impressive.”

“I know! Hello, by the way,” Evie said. “Sorry for disturbing you with what’s essentially work on a Sunday afternoon. I promise not to blow up your phone with texts the entire time we’re working on this project.”

“For future reference, you can text me at any time, Evie. And for any reason. It doesn’t have to be about The Sanctuary.”

He considered buffering his statement with a platonic qualifier, like That’s what friends do , but decided to let it stand. She could interpret his words however she wished.

There was a prolonged pause on the other end of the line before she answered with a simple “Thank you.”

Well, shit. How was he supposed to interpret her answer? Was that the thank-you of someone who wanted to remain friends or had she read something more into his offer?

And why in the fuck was he even going there?

Evie had made it crystal clear where things stood between them. They were old friends working to save a rescue that was dear to both of them. The last thing he wanted to do was push her away by coming on too strong.

“So, now that the website is done, does this mean we’re moving to the crowdfunding campaign?” Bryson asked, bringing the conversation back to The Sanctuary.

“Kara is working on graphics as we speak,” Evie said. “But I wanted to talk through a few more fundraising ideas we came up with while I was at Ashanti’s.”

There was a static sound, then rustling.

“Ev?”

“Sorry,” Evie said, once back on the line. “Hey, I’m on my way to the City Bark with Waffles,” she said. “Do you and Bella want to join us?”

“What is City Bark?”

“It’s a dog park in City Park. Just google NOLA City Bark and it’ll give you directions. It’s one of the nicer dog parks around—worth me driving across town for Waffles to visit it. There’s lots of equipment and space for them to run around.”

Bryson thought about the mountain of work he should do this Sunday and knew within seconds that none of it was getting done.

He looked over at Bella, who was back to napping. He’d taken her for a walk a couple of hours ago, so she was probably good for the rest of the day.

“Sure,” Bryson said to Evie. “I’ll meet you there in thirty.”

He disconnected the call.

“Okay, Bells, it’s time for you to take one for the team,” Bryson said. “We’re going to the dog park.”