Page 26 of Pugs & Kisses

E vie sat across the table from Bryson at Cafe Abyssinia, one of her favorite restaurants in the city. She’d asked for the outdoor picnic table underneath the huge, arcing oak tree branch. She sometimes treated herself to dinner and a good book, and this was one of her favorite spots to enjoy both.

“I feel very uncultured right now,” Bryson said as he looked over the menu. He tipped it down and peered at her over the top. “I’ve never had Ethiopian food before.”

“Really? Well, you’re in for a treat,” Evie said. “Do you mind if I do the ordering?”

He set the menu on the table. “Go right ahead.”

The waiter returned to their table with a piece of chicken breast and a bowl of water for Bella and Waffles, then asked if they were ready to place their order.

Evie requested the dish she always chose when she ate here, along with sparkling water and two glasses of tej, the traditional Ethiopian honey wine.

Once the waiter walked away with their selections, Bryson folded his hands on the table and said, “So, Doc Landry really laid one on us, huh? I knew there had to be more to the issues with The Sanctuary than he was letting on, but this goes beyond anything I’d expected.”

“Same,” Evie said.

He hunched his shoulders, then let them fall in defeat. “It was going to be an uphill battle to save it anyway, but there’s no hope now.”

Evie paused for a beat, then said, “I disagree. I’m not ready to accept defeat.”

Bryson’s forehead wrinkled with his incredulous frown. “Are you serious?”

The waiter interrupted them before Evie had the chance to respond.

“Here’s your tej,” the young man said. “And I told the chef this was the gentleman’s first time eating Ethiopian cuisine, so he provided a small beyainatu. It’s a sampling of the traditional vegetables, curries, and lentil stews served here.”

“That’s so sweet,” Evie said. “Please pass along our thanks to the chef.”

“Will do. I’ll be back with your entrée.”

The minute the waiter walked away, Bryson said, “Evie, you can’t be serious about The Sanctuary.”

“We’ll get back to that. Let’s eat first,” Evie said. She was grateful for the pause in their discussion. She needed a moment to consider how to best approach Bryson with her idea now that she knew he thought saving the rescue was hopeless.

“Ev.”

“I’ll explain everything,” she said. “The food won’t be good if we let it get cold.”

“Fine.” Bryson shook his head, his skepticism unmistakable.

“Good. Now, since this is your first experience with the cuisine, we need a quick lesson in how to eat beyainatu.” She broke off a piece of the spongy bread that covered the surface of the platter.

“This is injera. It’s a flat bread that also serves as your utensil.

You use the bread to scoop up your food. Like this.”

She demonstrated, picking up a helping of yellow lentils.

Bryson parroted her movements, choosing the gomen, a spicy, minced spinach.

“Oh my damn,” he said around a mouthful of food. He looked down at the platter, then up at her, his eyes wide with excited wonder. “Why have I never eaten Ethiopian food before?”

“I can’t answer that,” Evie said. “I eat here at least once a month. Cameron isn’t a fan, but I never let that stop me.”

“He doesn’t deserve food this good,” Bryson said around a mouthful of the intensely seasoned potatoes.

“You’re right,” she said. “I hope he never has a satisfying meal again.”

“Damn, you’ll have to tell me what that asshole did to make you feel that way about him. I always did, but it took you a while to see the light.”

She shook her head. “Not tonight. I don’t want to ruin our meal with talk about Cam.”

“Agreed,” Bryson said. “This food is too good to let him spoil it.”

“And you’re just getting started. Wait until the doro wat gets here.”

As if she’d heralded it, the waiter arrived with a clay pot brimming with aromatic stewed chicken and vegetables. They gorged themselves on the flavorful dish and sweet, mead-like wine.

By Bryson’s third pleasurable moan, Evie was ready to either jump out of her skin or jump him . She hadn’t considered the unintended consequences of inviting him to a meal where he would be required to suck his fingers every two minutes.

“And here I thought I was moving back home to eat my fill of gumbo and jambalaya,” Bryson said. “Looks as if I’ll be adding Ethiopian to the list.”

Lord help the women of this city who had to sit and watch this man lick curry from his fingers.

Evie had to clear her throat. “I’m happy you’re enjoying it,” she said.

The waiter returned. “Will you be ordering dessert this evening?” he asked.

Evie looked to Bryson with a raised brow. “Can you handle dessert?”

“I’m from the South. I will never say no to dessert,” he said.

She ordered baklava and two Ethiopian coffees.

“Okay,” Bryson said once they were alone again. “Can we finally get to the reason why I was treated to this amazing meal?”

Yes, she did have a reason for bringing him here that didn’t revolve around staring at him slip his fingers in and out of his mouth. She had no idea such a thing should have been on her list of “must-sees” but she was profoundly happy to have discovered it.

She cleared her throat again. “Yes, we can. I want to discuss The Sanctuary.”

“I figured as much.”

“I think we should still try to save it.”

Bryson stared at her over the rim of his wineglass. He drained the last sip of tej from it and then set the glass on the table.

“Have I had too much of this wine, or have you?” he asked.

Evie rolled her eyes. “I’m not even tipsy, and neither are you. I’m serious, Bryson. I don’t want to give up on The Sanctuary.”

“I know you heard exactly what I heard Doc say because you were standing right next to me when he said it.”

“Yes, I heard what he said.”

“And you still think there’s a chance of us saving the rescue? The building alone will cost nearly two million dollars.”

“I understand it’s a lot of money. But—”

“Two million, Ev. And we don’t know when the succession and probate will go through, which means we don’t know how much time we have to raise that kind of money. But even if we did have an idea of the timeline, there’s no way it will happen.”

“Way to be positive,” she said with a snort.

“Way to be realistic,” he countered.

“The Bryson Mitchell I remember would not quit so easily,” she said.

“The Bryson Mitchell you remember would not pretend he could snap his fingers and produce two million dollars out of thin air. Be for real, Ev.”

“Can you please not shoot this down before I even have the chance to make my case?”

Bryson held his hands up. “Go ahead. By all means, make your case.”

The waiter returned with their baklava. Bryson immediately broke off a piece and slipped it to Bella, who had been quietly resting at their feet.

“Don’t give her that,” Evie said.

“Why not? She likes sweets.”

“You’re a veterinarian. You know better.”

“Life is short, especially for a dog. A little sugar won’t hurt her.” He broke off another piece. “I guess this means none for Waffles?”

“Nope.” Evie shook her head and gave Waffles a piece of bread so he wouldn’t feel left out. “I’m not going to sit here and debate what’s best for your dog, but when she gets a tummy ache, call me.”

“Will do.” He winked. “So, now that we’ve established that I’m a bad dog owner and that it would take a miracle to save The Sanctuary, what’s next?”

“We have established no such thing,” Evie said.

“Ev—”

“Bryson, I’m serious.”

“I can tell. And it’s kinda scaring me, if I’m being honest. Face it, Evie, The Sanctuary is a lost cause.”

“You don’t know that,” Evie said. “I still think we should look into buying another place. Or—and just hear me out—we could talk to this grandson of Doc’s old friend.

Maybe he has a generous bone hidden somewhere in his body and would be willing to donate the building. We should at least inquire about it.”

“This is not going to work.” Bryson set his elbows on the table and rubbed both temples.

“Look, I have no idea what this grandson is like, but based on what Doc shared with us tonight, there’s a zero percent chance of that happening, Ev.

The guy sounds like a selfish asshole. Even his own grandfather cut him out of his will. ”

He had a point. But Evie wasn’t ready to concede hers.

“We’ll never know unless we ask,” she said.

He tilted his head to the side, a curious glint coming from his narrowed eyes.

“What’s with this one-eighty, Evie?” Bryson asked.

“What do you mean?”

“You went from needing time to think things over when Doc first asked us to work together to save The Sanctuary, to now looking to create some miracle by convincing a selfish brat to donate two million dollars’ worth of property? Where is this coming from?”

She reached for her coffee. Evie sipped slowly, her mind racing to come up with an answer that wouldn’t make her look like she was selfishly using The Sanctuary’s bad fortune as a way to make herself feel better about the state of her life. Because that’s essentially what she was doing.

“Let’s just say I had a change of heart,” she finally answered.

“Nope.” Bryson shook his head. “You don’t get to take a page from Doc’s playbook and come at me with this vague shit. It’s more than just a change of heart.” He picked up the baklava and took a bite. With his other hand he made a motion for her to continue.

“Remember when I told you I’m a bit of a black sheep when it comes to my family because I didn’t go into medicine?”

“Yeah, I remember,” he said.

He sucked the syrup the baklava had been soaked in from his fingers and Evie nearly lost it. She made a mental note to never invite Bryson Mitchell anywhere that required him to eat with his fingers ever again. She was not adult enough to handle it.

“Do you realize how accomplished a family has to be when you’re a doctor and still get labeled the black sheep?” Bryson continued. He shook his head. “Those Williamses are something else.”

“I know, right?” Evie said with exaggerated glee. “Lucky me!”

“I’m joking, Ev,” he said. “You know you’re a standout in everything you do. But what does any of this have to do with The Sanctuary?”

“Well, lately I’ve been feeling like there’s something to what my family thinks of my lack of accomplishments.”

He stopped chewing. “Now you’re the one who’s joking.”

“Think about it, Bryson. What have I really accomplished on my own? I went from relying on my parents to fund my education—”

“Which is their responsibility,” he said.

“Well, it wasn’t Cameron’s responsibility to give me a job, but I never even tried to look anywhere else because I knew I would work with him.”

“As much as I hated it back then—and still to this day, if we’re being honest—why would you look elsewhere, Ev? You and Cameron were together. You were engaged, weren’t you?”

She nodded. “For the past four years.”

He held his hands out as if he’d just spelled it out for her.

“It doesn’t matter what’s true or what makes sense,” Evie said.

She pressed her hand to the center of her chest. “What matters is what I feel in here, and I still feel as if I haven’t accomplished anything meaningful on my own.

Saving the rescue has meaning. It’s something I can be proud of. Now do you get it?”

“Hmm.” He nodded.

“Is that it? Hmm? That’s all you have to say?”

“I’m not really sure what to say. I disagree that you need to save The Sanctuary in order to prove that you’ve accomplished something, but I can’t change the way you feel about yourself. If this is what you want, go for it.” He took a sip of his coffee. “I still think it’s a lost cause.”

“Bry—”

“But.” He held up his free hand. “If you want to give it a try, I’m here to support you.”

Gratitude expanded in her chest until it felt as if she would burst with it. She reached across the table and covered his hand.

“Thank you,” Evie said.

He looked down at her hand, then focused his eyes on hers. Evie knew she should release him, but she didn’t want to. Instead, she brushed her thumb back and forth over his hand as they continued to stare at each other across the table.

Finally, she pulled away.

“So, you’ll help me?” she asked unnecessarily. He’d just said he would.

“Yes,” he answered, just as unnecessarily.

She used her napkin to dab at the corners of her mouth, even though she hadn’t taken a bite of their dessert yet. This pent-up adrenaline needed an outlet.

“I should warn you that I’m about to go all-in on this. Now that Doc has laid out just how serious the situation is, I plan to eat, sleep, and breathe Operation Rescue the Rescue.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Bryson said, the corner of his mouth hitching up in a smile.

“I appreciate any time you can lend to the effort, but I know that you’re in a different situation than I am with the move and the new job. So, you know, no pressure.”

He stared at her from across the table, his fingers toying with the rim of his mug. After several lengthy moments passed, he finally spoke.

“What if I want pressure?”