by K. D. Black
“Will not!” Riley insists, adopting her I-know-things-adults-don’t face. “Mama says you’re tall for a boy and girls don’t grow as tall as boys!”
“Does she?” I laugh, but Riley has already run past me into my penthouse and is eagerly exploring the large, open living room.
“What else does Mama say about Uncle Hayden?” I ask, turning to my sister who stood back and smiled throughout our greeting.
“Only good things,” Ava promises as we embrace. Like our mother, both Ava and I have black hair and gray eyes, but Ava’s face is rounder like our mother’s while I inherited an angular jaw and high cheekbones from our father. Both our parents lead an active lifestyle and cycled professionally for years, and they encouraged and inspired Ava and I to take care to maintain our bodies as well.
“Are you spending the night?” I ask. “The guestrooms are made up.”
“No,” she sighs, following me inside and setting her purse on the counter. “I’d like to and Riley would love to, but I have work in the morning.”
“Oh well. We’ll just have to have extra fun today so she’s not disappointed. Do you have plans already?” I comb my hair back with my fingers so it doesn’t dry into something resembling the upraised tentacles of a kraken.
“I figured we’d have some lunch somewhere, visit Central Park, and go to this pet donation and adoption event there while we’re at it. That part isn’t my idea,” Ava explains before I can ask. “Someone we know heard about it at school from a girl whose mother volunteers for a shelter. She knows there’s no way we’re adopting any animals, but I promised we’d go look and donate.”
“There’s no way you’re leaving that event without a new pet,” I point out instantly. “You don’t know how to say no.”
“I already did,” Ava laughs. “I preemptively said no. It won’t be that hard to do it again at the event.”
I’m not convinced, but Ava seems confident so I drop the subject. “Let me finish getting ready. There’s stuff to drink or snack on in the fridge if either of you wants anything, and the TV remote is probably on the couch.”
“So slow,” Ava complains.
“You got here 45 minutes early,” I shoot back over my shoulder.
“So slow.”
Sighing, I throw my hands in the air and head back to my room. As soon as I’m out of sight, a smile steals across my face. Ava lives in New York, but upstate in Syracuse, and she doesn’t often have a chance to come to the city. She’s one of the few people I can be myself around, and I usually dislike kids, but I love my niece.
“Uncle Hayden, are you ready yet?”
“Not yet,” I call back, the shirt I’m pulling over my head muffling my voice. “Go find the chocolate in the cabinet.”
An excited shriek pierces my door, then quick, small footsteps thump away down the hall.
Grinning at my reflection, I work a little gel into my hair and comb it into a more manageable state.
“Uncle Hayden! Are you ready now?” A small shadow shifts beneath the doorjamb.
“Almost.” I brush a stray beard hair onto the floor. “Did you find the chocolate?” Innocence laces my voice.
“It’s dark chocolate.” I can hear her pout in her voice. “I don’t like dark chocolate.”
“It’s healthy.”
No kid I’ve ever know cares about health foods, and Riley is no different in that respect. “I don’t care. Are you ready now?”
“Yes,” I announce, throwing open the door and easily lifting the little eight-year-old. “Let’s go find Mama.” My hands enclose her little ones, preventing them from undoing the work I put into styling my hair.
“Mama’s here, hungry, and ready to go,” Ava announces, cutting off the television.
Aware Riley doesn’t always take to new foods, we decide to walk to a chicken and burger place right down the street. “I’ll take a chicken tender salad,” I decide when the line shifts forward and it’s our turn to order.
“And I’ll have a grilled chicken sandwich, please,” Ava adds. “What do you want, honey?”
Riley bounces on her toes to look up at the menu. “A double bacon cheeseburger!”
Ava and I laugh together. “Can you eat all that?”
The girl gives me a scalding look. “Duh.”
“Riley!” Ava scolds. “Be polite.”
“Duh, Uncle Hayden.”
I shake my head, but the smile just refuses to leave my face. “And a double bacon cheeseburger,” I confirm. “All meals.”
Ava tries to snatch the card out of my hand. “You paid last time.”
“Sister dear, I’m a billionaire.” Grinning widely at her open-mouthed inability to respond, I take the card as the woman behind the register returns it, grab our drink cups, and make off toward the drink machines.
Lunch is a pleasant affair. Riley doesn’t stop eating long enough even to talk, so Ava and I avail ourselves of the opportunity to catch up.
“To the park?” I ask, glancing around and noting the crumpled wrappers and general contentment of the table.
“To the park,” Ava confirms. “The adoption event is being held in one of the welcome centers on the east side.”
Singing a little rhyme about puppies, Riley races out the door ahead of us. “Still think you’re not bringing home a pet today?” I whisper to Ava.
“Shut up.”
She shoulders me and I have to check my momentum before I stumble into a tree planted in a small square of mulch and dirt. “And you have the nerve to tell your daughter to be polite.”
“I’m an adult. I know when my brother needs a good beatdown.”
She might actually be able to win in a fight between us. Ava took some defensive martial art that I can never remember the name of for a few years. I don’t say that, of course. I just snort and look as though the very idea is inconceivable.
A short AutoVS lift and a slightly longer walk later, I catch sight of a welcome center ahead. “Is that it?” I ask.
“Yep.” Ava releases the small hand she held tightly through city traffic and allows Riley to run ahead.
Inside, the chairs, tables, and other obstructions have been dragged against one wall and the rest of the open, rectangular room has been divided into five impromptu sections. Each area has several volunteers with shirts designating their rescue affiliation, a table with a seated volunteer to do paperwork, and several pens and cages filled with cats and dogs. The place bustles with volunteers and interested New Yorkers, resounds with excited barks and quieter meows, and smells very distinctly of dog.
And of course, Riley is already in the thick of things. She probably intends to hold us captive here until she pets every single animal in this place.
“Oh, that one’s really cute,” Ava exclaims, pointing at a small brown and white dog.
I glance at it, but I’m not familiar enough with dog breeds to identify to which it belongs. “Yep.”
“Are you a cat person or a dog person?” Ava reaches down to scratch the dog in the cage.
“Neither. I’m not an animal person. Anyway, I’m not home enough to have a pet.”
“Uncle Hayden, Uncle Hayden! Look at Penny! She’s sooooo sweet and cute and nice and she cuddles too and she’s quiet, she doesn’t bark! Brooke says so!”
My heart doesn’t just skip a beat. The time of the universe freezes briefly to accommodate my need to process that name.
I spin around and find myself face to face with my beautiful administrative assistant.
At the sight of me, Brooke widens her eyes. Our eyes lock and stay fixed on each other, neither of us wanting to be the one who looks away in an admission of staring.
“Uh, yeah.” Brooke’s lashes conceal her eyes as she looks down at the little leashed dog sniffing her ankles. “Penny is an absolute sweetheart.”
“Can we take her home? Please?” Riley draws out the word into a long, heartfelt plea.little girl
“No, Riley!” Ava says exasperatedly. “We already talked about
this.”
“But Penny really needs a home.” The little girl drops down beside the dog, who happily leans into the eager little hands and wags her tail.
“Riley, honey, all of these animals need homes. It’s a no.”
Riley’s hands go still on the dog’s black and white coat. The side of her face that I can see begins to quiver.
“Ava, I think you should adopt the dog.” Three faces turn toward me. I catch fire from Ava’s burning glare, then Riley’s tears of hopefulness put out the flames—then Brooke’s surprised, quiet gratefulness erases the others’ reactions from mind.
“What?” Ava’s voice dares me to repeat myself.
I never could pass up a good family dare. “I think you should adopt the dog.”
Chapter Nine: Brooke
Hayden scoops up Riley. “I think you should adopt the dog,” he repeats.
I’ve been a volunteer with NYAR for a long time. I know the name of every single dog and cat, I’m familiar with their little individual quirks, and I’m good at playing off the emotions and dynamics of kids and parents.
Right now, I can’t think of a single pitch that might convince this woman to change her mind because Hayden is actually smiling and holding a child to his muscular chest, and I might die from adorableness if this continues.
“Hayden, I can’t just adopt a dog! There’s work to think about, Riley has school all day—”
Hayden interrupts her. “You and Doug have fairly different hours, right? You’re always complaining about how busy you both are. One of you should be home often enough to let out the dog.”
“Doug!” The woman seizes on the opportunity. Ava, maybe? I seem to remember Hayden calling her that name, but I’m busy focusing on my little Boston Terrier and not the vision of Hayden arguing her into adopting a dog while bouncing a little girl in his arms. “I haven’t even talked to him about adopting a pet.”
“Oh, please. Doug loves dogs. He’ll be thrilled.” Good to know I’m not the only one Hayden uses that dismissive voice with.
“One day, you’ll get married and realize that surprises aren’t always good things,” Ava snaps, but I can tell her attitude is growing less hostile.
And just like that, after that bit of information from her, I can speak again. “Penny is a great dog for a busy household,” I offer. “She’s eight years old, so she’s quite mellow. If there are no people around to hang out with, she’ll just go to sleep. No need to worry about chewed furniture or knocked over stuff. She’s kind of unusual that way. Boston Terriers don’t usually like to be alone. Also, it’s a lot better to adopt an adult Boston Terrier because puppies can develop health issues, and Penny here—” I ruffle her ears affectionately. “—has a clean bill of health.”
“See, Mom, she’s perfect! Oh please please pleeeease?” From experience, I know this is perfect. I just need to keep telling Ava what a genuinely great little dog Penny is, and Riley needs to keep chiming in with that desperate daughter charm.
“Yeah, Mom, she’s perfect!” Hayden echoes.
He’s making a puppy-dog face. Hayden Nicholson, the CEO of a Fortune 500 company and also my boss, is currently purposefully widening sorrowful, lost eyes and cocking his head.
And I’m dying. Did I mention that? I’m also dying.
“You’re a terrible brother,” Ava sighs. “How much is the adoption fee?”
“It doesn’t matter. I’ve got it,” Hayden raises his voice over Riley’s screech of delight, dropping the eyes for a victorious grin and sliding his hands into the pockets of his jeans pockets. He can do that because, for the first time since I met him, he’s not wearing a suit.
“No, you—”
“Billionaire,” Hayden says simply. “Do you take credit cards and where do I sign?”
I finally find my voice again. “Uh— right this way, please.” I give a light tug on the leash and lead the dog and the trio over to the table, where Ashley is sitting. “This is Ava and Riley, and they want to adopt Penny,” I announce, some of my own excitement restored when I see it mirrored in Ashley’s face. Penny has been with the rescue for two years, and older dogs aren’t as popular with adoptees as younger ones.
“Perfect!” Ashley searches the table, glancing over and setting aside every paper her hands touch. “I can’t believe it, but it seems we’re out of adoption forms. I don’t think this has ever happened before.” She chuckles, but I hear the underlying worry in her voice.
“We live in Syracuse,” Ava says doubtfully. “And we don’t get into the city often.”
“Maybe they could go ahead and take Penny, and I could run a form over to Mr. Nicholson later today?” I suggest. “He lives in the city.” Suddenly aware of Ava’s curious stare, I realize I’ve just admitted I know Hayden already.
“That would be fine,” Ashley says. “That way you could take Penny today and you wouldn’t have to be bothered with waiting for a form in the mail and mailing it to NYAR.”
“Oh, alright.” Ava finally caves. “We’ll stop on the way home and get some dog food and such.”
“We also have a few things you can look at here,” Ashley offers. “I can show you what we’ve been feeding Penny and you can look at the selection of pet products we have.”
“Sure,” Ava agrees willingly.
“Here,” I say, smiling at Riley as she jumps up and down in her little blue sneakers. “Penny’s your dog now, so you should hold her.”
Riley calms down immediately and takes he leash out of my hand. “Can I walk her?”
“Sure, but stay in the building for now, please. And don't go too close to the other shelter’s animals!” I call after her as she immediately skips away, Penny trotting in her wake.
And that just leaves… me and Hayden. Standing here, without the comforting presence of Ava, Riley, Ashley, or even the office to make this any less awkward.
“I didn’t know you volunteered,” Hayden says, his face uncharacteristically soft as he watches Riley and Penny explore the room.
“I’ve been with New Yorkie Animal Rescue since high school,” I tell him, relieved that he started any kind of conversation at all. And NYAR is something I can talk about for hours if the people around me allow it.
“My parents adopted a cat from there when I was younger. Her favorite things to do were claw the carpet and sleep on my dad’s lap.”
“Do your parents live in New York?” I ask, the familiarity of talking about animals loosening the tension of talking to Hayden outside of work.
“No, they live in Denmark.”
“Oh.” I didn’t expect that answer. “Are they from there?”
“No, just moved. When do you think you’ll be able to bring the form?” The change of subject brings about a clear ending to talk of his parents.
“This evening, if you’ll be home or in the office. As long as you don’t live in the far corners of the city, that is.”
“I don’t and I have your number. I’ll text you the address later and you can just let me know when you’re coming.” Hayden shrugs. “Or just show up. I’ll be home, so it doesn’t really matter.”
I just nod, sneaking a glance at Hayden’s face as we both turn to watch Riley playing with Penny.
There’s something radically different about Hayden today. His short, black beard and mustache are still perfectly groomed and symmetrical, his clothes, while not a suit, fit him well and show not a single speck of dirt, and his tendency to order people around apparently extends even to his sister, but something is just… different.
Like the way he talks. Usually, Hayden isn’t exactly polite, but every single word he speaks has a purpose. When he gives an order around the office or discusses something with me, I can tell he’s trying to tell me exactly what he wants and get me to understand it in the most efficient way possible.
Now, in this situation outside the workplace, Hayden isn’t just talking—he’s conversing, which means he uses words not just to get a point across, but to bare though
ts on his mind. Never before have I realized that talking and conversing have such a tangible difference.
And then, there is one more thing that’s different—Hayden is actually happy. Not… not “good, you finished your job” happy. The happiness written on his face is the kind only spending enjoyable, relaxed time with close friends and family can give you. True happiness, I guess. At work, the occasional smile rearranges Hayden’s face into something that might not scare a five-year-old behind a chair.
This smile lights up his face, crinkles the corners of his eyes, and warms their gray color. It makes me want to do things that will keep it on his face forever.
“Ready?” Ava asks Hayden, returning with two dog bowls in hand and a small bag of dog food.
“Yep. Riley!” Hayden calls, and the little girl and her new dog come bounding over. “Time to go.”
The three start off, then Hayden turns half around. “See you this evening, Brooke.” The glass doors close behind them.
“See you this evening, Brooke.” The words echo in my ears, leaving a deep, uncomfortable feeling of forgetfulness.
Wait. Wait just a minute. What have I done? This different, family-oriented Hayden must have addled my mind, because I think I actually just agreed to go to his house, in the evening, by myself, to bring him a stupid form that we could just as easily mail.
The rest of the event flies past in a rush of conversations with donors and adoptees, managing the menagerie we brought, and compartmentalizing the multitude of butterflies that migrated to my stomach. All too soon, we’ve cleaned up the venue, loaded the remaining cats and dogs into the company vehicles, and returned to NYAR.
By the time everything and everyone is unloaded and returned to their storage areas and crates, the face of the clock on the wall of the cat room reads 7:09 and I’ve received the address from Hayden.
“Ugh,” I exclaim, drawing a glance from Sam.
“What’s up?” she asks, starting the task of filling food bowls.
“Do I smell?” The question is odd, I’m aware, but Sam and I have posed it to each other too often to be surprised.
She leans over and gives me a sniff, then brushes off the stomach of my NYAR T-shirt. “Like dog, but I think it’s your clothes, not you. Just change, wash up, and throw on some deodorant and you’ll be fine. Why, have big plans?”