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She wags her tail, sending a spray of water up the wall and across the floor. “Okay, okay, let’s get you out of this tub before the whole room is flooded. How does such a small dog make such a big mess?”
As I’m rinsing the soap from her fur, my phone chirps with an alert for a voicemail. Strange. Usually, anybody from work only calls once, and if I don’t answer they resort to sending messages through our corporate chat program. Curious, I rub the dog quickly with a towel and pull my phone from my pocket with my free hand. The dog uses the opportunity to lick my cheek and neck.
“I get it, pay attention to you, huh?” I towel off the top of her head and step back to admire my work. She’s like a whole new dog. It’s one of the best parts of volunteering here, seeing the way a little love and attention can totally transform even the most skittish dog or cat.
She sits down on the floor and looks up at me, Swiping her tail back and forth like a mop soaking up the surrounding water. I check my phone while I have the chance. One missed call from Jordan Anders. And a text message from Cole. Strange.
“Let’s get you back,” I say, sliding a slip lead over her head. I hit play on the voicemail and hold the phone to my ear.
Jordan’s voice comes through, hesitant, almost shy.
“Hey, Tyson. It’s me, Jordan. I have an idea, something that might help the situation with you and Cole, if you’re open to it. Give me a call or a text when you get this, okay? Bye!”
Her voice goes up at the end in a cheery farewell. I can imagine her face as she records the message, biting her lip when she mentions Cole, worried about what I’ll think, and smiling at the end when she says goodbye. I wonder how many times she recorded, replayed, deleted, and re-recorded it before she finally hitSEND. What is she planning? I know her heart is in the right place, the best place, but the divide between Cole and me is too wide to bridge, even with all her good intentions.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay, girl?” I give the dog a final scratch as she trots into her kennel, going immediately to the soft pile of blankets in the corner. It must feel like heaven to a dog that spent her entire life outside on the cold, hard ground.
“Heading out a little early!” I call to Cindy. She’s on her hands and knees in one of the kennels, scrubbing the floor. “Something came up, but I’ll be back later this week to make it up to you.”
“You’d better!” she says with a laugh. “Take care, dear.”
As I step out of the shelter and into the cold night air, I type out a reply to Jordan.
Me:I’m open to your idea. Just heading home from the shelter now. Why don’t you come over? I can send a car to get you.
I ignore Cole’s message. I’m in a good mood, boosted by the visit with the animals and hearing Jordan’s voice. It’s a short walk to my apartment, and I’m bundled up enough against the cold to make it pleasant. I duck into a café for a hot cup of coffee, looking forward to potentially spending the night with Jordan. After I place my order, I get a text message.
Jordan:That’s a great idea. Cole will come too, okay?
I almost spit out my coffee. Cole? In my penthouse? As if she can read my mind, she sends a quick follow-up message.
Jordan:It’s just a talk. If it goes poorly, I’ll never ask you to do it again. Let’s just give it onechance. Please?
I want to say no. I want to tell her Cole is never going to set foot in my apartment, that I don’t want him in my life at all, but then I remember heisher best friend. Forget that he’s my nemesis for a minute, and focus on that. She’s the woman I love, and this is her best friend. I can do this. I need to do this. For her.
Me:Sure. Should I send a car for him too?
Jordan:He can ride with me, no worries. Thank you for doing this, Tyson. You’re a sweetheart.
Let’s hope I don’t regret it.
Tyson
I pace through the penthouse, waiting for them to arrive. I’ve already showered, washed off the smell of the shelter, and gotten dressed. The place is tidy. My house cleaners know when I’m gone and when to come so I never see them. There is nothing for me to do while I wait, and the minutes tick by with agonizing slowness. When the driver texts me that he has arrived at Jordan’s place, I mix myself an Old Fashioned and settle into the armchair beside the window, resigned to passing the last half hour with my racing thoughts.
Though it’s obvious what Jordan is hoping to accomplish here, I don’t have her same high hopes for a reconciliation between Cole and me. If he accuses me again of bullying, or whatever, or if he tries to scare Jordan away from me, I don’t know if I’ll be able to restrain myself again. At least we’ll be at my place, so if it gets to the point where I can’t stand him, I can kick him out.
The text from my driver tells me they’re here, and a couple minutes later the doorbell rings. I grab my drink, mostly empty now, and go to meet them at the elevator door. When it opens, my eyes go straight to Jordan. She’s stunningly beautiful, and sexy as ever — her hair pulled back in a ponytail, sweater hugging the curves of her waist. Her mouth curls into a smile when she sees me. That smile makes my heart beat double time, every time.
“Hey,” she says, stepping in for a hug. I pull her close and breathe in the minty aroma of her favorite shampoo blended with the vanilla undertone of her skin moisturizer. “Oh, what are you drinking?”
Cole, with his hoodie pulled up over his head, skulks from the elevator behind her, his hands stuffed in his pockets. He looks as if he would rather be anywhere else in the world than here, and I know exactly how he feels.
“An Old Fashioned. Can I get you one?” I step back to let the two of them into the apartment.
“Yes, please. And one for Cole too, he needs to relax a little.” She looks pointedly at Cole, who lingers by the elevator as if he’s planning to make a run for it at any moment. “A lot. He needs to relaxa lot.”
I mix three Old Fashioneds and hand the first to Jordan. I hand one to Cole and keep the third for myself.
