Page 25 of Lesbian CEO

“I know,” Toni sighs. She doesn’t bother arguing with me. “I pushed to have the name of the shelter on the tablecloth, but Jerry wanted the furry family friend thing instead.”

We both turn to see Jerry, a gentleman in his 70s who is standing six yards away with two dogs on leashes. He’s smiling at each person who walks by and offering waves and dad jokes.

“He’s been here a long time,” she says.

“I remember.”

“Do you?”

Toni and I used to volunteer together at the animal shelter. Even though it’s been years since the two of us were together, I haven’t forgotten the time we spent together or how much fun we had taking care of pets and helping them get adopted.

“I do.”

“Jerry remembers you, too. He was excited to hear you were coming out today.”

“That’s nice.”

“Maybe, but he’s going to try to get you to adopt two dogs.”

I laugh. I don’t even want one dog right now. I’m not home nearly enough to be able to take care of a pet, and the only dog I ever really felt connected with is the one Toni adopted from underneath my nose. A fresh burst of anger courses through my veins, but I shove it down. Today isn’t about talking about the past. Today is about the future and moving forward together.

“Anyway,” Toni says. She gestures to the table in front of her. “We’re going to be getting people to sign up for our mailing list today. If they want to pet a dog, awesome. Want to play with a cat? Also cool. We have volunteers ready to help with that. Our job is to make sure we get their contact information so we can add them to our mailing list.”

“Smart,” I nod, taking a seat beside her. “That way, if they don’t adopt a pet today, we can get them to consider it in the future.”

“Exactly,” she smiles.

I don’t say all of the other things that I want to say to Toni. I don’t tell her I’m actually feeling excited about tonight or that hope has been playing a major role in my heart this week. I’m supposed to be mad at her. I’m supposed to absolutely hate her for everything she’s done to me, but somehow, being around her just feels right.

And it shouldn’t.

My therapist would tell me that this is wildly unhealthy behavior, that this is wishful thinking on my part or that I’m doing things I’m not supposed to be doing just because it feels good.

And it does.

It does feel good.

Being around Toni feels amazing.

I can’t even be toying around with the idea, but I want to kiss her. She is not wearing a hat, nor is she wearing sunglasses. I can see little bits of white cream around her ears, so I know she’s at least wearing sunscreen. Her nose is dotted with freckles – my favorite – and she’s smiling at each person who walks up to the booth.

For it being ten in the morning, the park is already booming. Kids are running around, playing on the equipment and then dashing over to say hello to the dogs and cats before racing back. Parents are hollering at their kids to leave the animals alone, while a few brave couples are wandering over to hold a cat or ask to try walking one of the dogs.

“How long does the event go?”

“Three,” she says. “Or until everyone gets adopted.”

“Think we’ll get them all adopted today?”

“I have a good feeling.”

A woman is jogging around the outskirts of the park and the dogs catch her eye. I spot her right away and smile as she veers off of the sidewalk and comes toward our table.

“Good morning,” I greet her.

“You selling dogs?”

“We’re helping to match dogs with adoptive families,” I correct her.

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