Page 14

fourteen

. . .

Tony

My stomach sinks as I stare at the photo. Al and Cari, with Vivienne sandwiched between them. His smile is genuine. Hers too. I can tell because she’s never once looked at me that way.

Flicking to the next photo, my heart stops. Because it’s a group of couples. Al and Cari are there with Vivienne again, of course, with her friends and their boyfriends. I recognize Sven Larsson and Jake Lewis, along with two of her friends from the bar. There’s another couple—the woman with the nose ring, so her boyfriend must be the team’s reporter.

My stomach churns.

This is why she should have gone out with Al. They’re much more suited. They have more in common.

“You moping again?” Susan’s voice cuts through my thoughts.

“I’m fine,” I tell her, shoving my phone back into my pocket.

“C’mon. Tell me what’s going on with you,” she says, tugging me by my hoodie into the office.

Collapsing onto the threadbare armchair opposite her desk, I sigh and run my hand through my hair. It’s starting to grow out again; it’s almost time for a cut.

“Is it work? Or training?” Susan asks.

“Neither. Both?” Slumping lower in the chair, I glare at her. “All I do is work and train. I don’t have time for anything else.”

She knows about my other job and my gymnastics; she has to, because she helps me schedule around my other commitments.

“Do you need some time off?”

I shake my head. “I’m already taking time off for Worlds.” If I make the team, that is.

“You can take some more time,” she says hesitantly.

We both know the shelter runs on bare-bones staffing. It’s not fair to the other staff and volunteers if I take any more time off when I’m perfectly capable of working. I’d rather save the special favors for when I truly need them.

“I’m worried about you,” Susan says. “You’re going to burn out.”

“I just—I need something ,” I tell her honestly. “I’ve been trying for some brand partnerships. Nobody wants me to endorse their products. I don’t know what to post on social media. Both Al and Cari are so much better at it than me.”

“Can you ask them for help?” She nudges me. “Maybe your fans want to see who you are.”

Choking out a laugh, I shake my head. “Who am I? I don’t even know that.”

Shadow, hiding in my hoodie pocket, sticks out her little head and gives a soft meow.

Susan laughs. “Has she been there this entire time?”

I nod. “She doesn’t let me put her down for very long.”

She’s growing fast. I won’t be able to carry her around in my hoodie for much longer.

“You’re going to spoil that damn kitten,” she says with a smile. “What are you going to do with her while you’re at Worlds?”

With a sigh, I gently stroke the top of the kitten’s head. “I don’t know.”

“You know as well as I do that separation anxiety like hers gets worse, not better. You’re prolonging the inevitable.”

“I just don’t want to disappoint her,” I admit.

Susan pins me with her stare. “She’s a cat. She’ll get over it.”

With a soft grunt, I don’t disagree. Doesn’t mean it’s not on my mind.

As I do a new adoption intake and help a dog find their new forever home, I can’t help but wish I had that too. I love living with my siblings in our childhood house, but I don’t feel at home there. It’s just a place to live. Too much of my life is in flux—the upcoming end of my gymnastics career, not knowing if I’ll apply to vet school this year.

The bell above the door chimes, and I force myself to leave the back room and head into the lobby. We don’t get a lot of adoption inquiries this late in the day, mainly people whose pets have gone missing, and there haven’t been any new arrivals in the last forty-eight hours.

But when I see the person in our lobby, my mouth goes dry.

Vivienne is hovering awkwardly at the end of the reception desk, her hands tucked into her jacket pockets. Her hair is tied up in a ponytail, light makeup on her face. She’s wearing dark jeans, a soft cotton T-shirt, and a lightweight puffer jacket with knee-length black boots. Effortlessly casual but put together at the same time.

She looks absolutely fucking gorgeous.

“What are you doing here?” The words come out before I can pull them back.

An awkward smile tilts her lips. “Isn’t that my line?”

My stomach flips at the lack of vitriol in her voice. I choke out a laugh. “Yeah. I think so.”

She swallows, apprehension on her face. “I was wondering…”

Impatiently, I wait for her to finish her sentence. “Yeah?”

She looks at something over my shoulder, like she can’t quite bring herself to meet my eyes.

“Is that offer for coffee still on the table?”

“Yes,” I say immediately.

Her eyes dart to mine, then away.

“Yes, coffee,” I repeat dumbly. “Um, my shift?—”

I still have two and a half hours on the clock.

“Oh. Right.” Vivienne shakes her head. “It doesn’t have to be now, I guess. It can be… whenever.”

“Now’s good.” Susan’s voice behind me makes me jump. “Tony, get out of here. I can handle the rest of the day.”

“Are you sure?” My voice cracks.

My boss nods. “I’m good. Go ahead and clock out.”

I give Vivienne a small smile. “Give me two minutes?”

She nods, turning to study the wall of photos—successful adoptions. Whenever I’m in a bad mood, I look at that wall of pictures.

Following Susan into the backroom, I glare at my meddling boss. “What’s that about?”

“You need this,” she says, squeezing my shoulder. “Leave Shadow here. You go out with that pretty little thing and take a load off.”

My eyebrows go up. “Excuse me?”

“You’re going to burn out,” she says, same as she did a few hours ago. “You need a break. Seems like she’ll be good for you.”

“It’s just coffee,” I mutter as I swipe my employee badge at the scanner to clock out.

Oh shit. I pull up short.

Coffee.

With Vivienne.

While I’m wearing sweaty, animal hair-covered clothes.

Ducking into the employee bathroom, I quickly wash my hands and face. My hoodie smells a bit ripe and is covered in cat hair, so I swap it for a mostly clean zip-up with the shelter logo from my locker. It’s not like I keep an entire wardrobe here.

I stare at myself in the mirror. Exacerbated by the shitty lighting, I can see the exhaustion on my face. I only have a few hours before I have to head to the steakhouse for another grueling night of serving overpriced food to the privileged elite.

My phone is burning a hole in my pocket, and I pull it out to stare at the photo again. She may have gone out with Al last night, but today, she’s reaching out to me. I have to see this through.

Vivienne is waiting in the lobby, and as I approach, shrugging on my leather jacket, she looks me up and down. Something bright shines in her eyes. Is it appreciation? I certainly hope so.

“There’s a coffee shop down the block,” I say casually. “Does that work?”

She nods. “Lead the way.”

I set a light hand on her lower back on reflex as I escort her outside. She doesn’t flinch away, so I take it as a sign that maybe she doesn’t hate me quite so much as she used to. I don’t know what I did to change that, but I’ll take it.

I’ll take anything she gives me.

Inside the coffee shop, we wait silently in line, but the silence isn’t oppressive. She orders a black coffee and pays before I can get to the card reader, then waits at the end of the bar as I order myself a green tea. We receive our drinks and make our way to a small table in the corner.

“So…” I stare at her from across the table. “You wanted to talk?”

Vivienne scowls, but it’s missing her usual heat. “You invited me for coffee.”

“Yeah. And you turned me down.” I try hard to keep the bitterness out of my voice, but I don’t think I’m successful.

She looks away.

“Did… something change?”

She takes a deep breath. “So it turns out you aren’t a total scumbag.”

My stomach drops with disappointment. Though I try to keep my expression neutral, I don’t think I’m successful. “Is that what you thought of me?”

“I used to,” she says steadily.

When I don’t react, she sighs.

“Not really,” she admits. “I was hurt and angry. I was taking it out on you, and you didn’t do anything to deserve it.”

I swallow. “Why were you hurt?”

Her eyes flash, and my stomach tenses in anticipation.