Page 126 of Love Arranged
“Some kind of lapdog, or maybe a golden retriever. Not this…this…”
I scratch behind Daisy’s ear, making her tongue loll out. “Beauty?”
“Beast,” he hisses.
I press my hands over Daisy’s ears. “Daddy didn’t mean that, baby. He’s just…overwhelmed.”
There’s a wicked gleam to Lorenzo’s eyes, and I’d sacrifice my favorite pair of sneakers to know what’s going on in his mind right now.
Daisy barks, and the deep bass sound has Lorenzo scrubbing a hand over his face. “At least it’s not a yapper.”
“Look at you searching for the positives.”
“It’s a short list, so don’t get your hopes up.”
I cradle Daisy against my chest. “Don’t tell me you’re backing out.”
“I should.” He releases the door handle and takes a step away from it.
Progress.
“But you won’t,” I say confidently. “Because that would make me very, very sad.” I pop my bottom lip out and wobble it, making sure to soften my eyes simultaneously.
He stares at my mouth like he loves to loathe it. “This is a mistake.”
My heart feels like Lorenzo is using it for dart practice. “What do you mean?”
His skin pales as he stares into Daisy’s eyes. “I’m not qualified to take care of another living being.”
Tension coils in my belly. “You take care of me, so how hard can a dog be?”
“For me, seems impossible.”
“How so?”
“I had a dog once. Didn’t end well.” He speaks so low that I have a hard time hearing him.
My heart sinks. “I’m sorry.”
“It was a long time ago.” He carries on asking more questions about Daisy and what kind of care she requires, all while I wonder about Lorenzo’s dog and why he gets that lost look in his eyes when he talks about them.
Lorenzo takes us shopping for pet supplies in Lake Aurora. He would’ve preferred to support local stores, but the vet recommended a specific food for Daisy to help her continue gaining weight.
I hardly recognize the town anymore with all its fancy new buildings and chain stores.
“What are you thinking about?” he asks as we drive down what used to be Oak Tree Road. It’s hard to grasp that the winding street lined with stunning century-old oak trees became this generic strip of retail shops and strip malls.
“This place feels soulless.”
“How so?”
“Everything I once loved about it is gone.”
“Like what?” He keeps his eyes on the road, although they stray to take in everything I talk about next.
“The gigantic oak trees. The mom-and-pop shops. Thecharacter.” I point to the brand-new pharmacy while wondering where the retro diner-slash-pharmacy went.
“This is exactly what I’m afraid will happen to Lake Wisteria,” he replies.
