Page 85 of Lost Love on 6th Street

I shuck a hand through my hair. “I don’t know, everything I’ve done the past few months feels a little—”

“Not crazy, Nor. Maybe you’re just . . .” Luke turns toward me and runs his hand down my arms. “Maybe it’s all just moving fast because you were looking for things to make sense, and now they do.”

My heart expands. “Yeah. You’re right. It all just makes sense.”

I run my hand over his cheek, loving the way the stubble bristles against my skin.

“God, I can’t believe my girlfriend is going to become a mother, and I’m not going to have anything to do with it.”

I scoff, though a deep fire in my belly is stoked. “You can come with!”

Luke shakes his head. “No, it’s your thing, baby. You live your truth, and I’ll be here ready to be a part of it.”

* * *

I drive way out of the city to the Harmony Hounds Animal Sanctuary. It’s situated on a big plot of land where all the animals can live out their days free and happy if they never get a chance to find their forever home. It breaks my heart even thinking about it, but when the caretaker, Claire, leads me to a field of dogs living their best life, I see that it isn’t that bad.

“Here they come!” Claire says with a cheerful smile.

We are engulfed by dogs of all ages and sizes.

“I think I can die happy now!” I cry out, getting licked and sniffed from all sides.

I give so many head pats and scratches that my heart is pulled in all directions. Do I want a little cairn terrier with missing teeth or a hefty Pitbull who gives the sweetest kisses and is scared of the chihuahua a fraction of his size?

“So, for apartment living, I’d definitely put a restriction on the bigger dog breeds,” Claire says. “I hate when people try to force big dogs into small spaces.”

“Totally, I wouldn’t dream of stuffing this guy into my shoebox,” I say as I pat the side of a ginormous dog that looks like it must be part Great Dane.

Claire pats his head. “Sorry, buddy. Next time.”

He looks up at her and woofs once before rushing off to go play.

“This place is amazing,” I say.

We exchange a smile, then stare off at the dogs as if they’re children on the playground. It’s beautiful out here. My heart will always be in the city, but sometimes taking a big old gulp of fresh air is necessary. The sky is so big and blue with clouds that Bob Ross could have painted.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a shorthaired blonde dog skulking by the fence, sniffing the perimeter. He’s lanky with perky ears that fold up at the top. He hasn’t come up to say hi. “Who’s this?”

Claire glances at the dog, her golden ponytail whipping in the wake of a stiff breeze. She smiles solemnly. “That’s one of our new guys. I’ve been calling him Shortbread, but I think he hates it because he barely even wants to give me a sniff. That is common with dogs found in his circumstances.”

I don’t know if I want to know, for fear my heart may break, but I keep listening.

“He was dumped on the side of the road, nearly starved to death. He’s a few years old so I’m sure he had an owner, and then . . .”

“Didn’t?”

Claire nods.

“Poor baby.”

“We’ve just been able to introduce him to the pack. He was too skittish at first. Trust issues. I hope he wasn’t hurt in his previous home, but . . . it’s good to assume the worst when it comes to these guys.”

I look up at the sky, trying to keep my eyes from welling up. “Oh my god, how do you do this every day?”

Claire laughs. “Been doing it since I can remember. My mom opened this place when I was just a baby. Comes with the territory.” She claps her hands. “Shortbread!”

Shortbread lifts his head in our direction, then goes back to sniffing.

---