Page 79 of It Couldn't Be You
“I expected nothing, just did it to see, and hey, wasn’t too hurt when I got nothing.”
I took a drink of my iced sweet tea. “Will you send them out with me?”
“Of course. Let’s do it after work,” Katie said.
And so, that night after work, we sat together watching the sun go down and pitching people who didn’t ask to see my work, asking if they’d consider me, my heart, and my thoughts.
I wondered if I could like my work enough for all of us. I told myself,If they don’t want me, that’s okay.I also told myself if it didn’t feel okay at times, that was okay, too.
Twenty-Eight
March was coming to a subtle close. The only hint it had been there was the weather warming up often enough to fool me into thinking winter and cold were mostly done and that spring had already sprung. But Texas could be fickle and tricky.
I had been working the morning shift consistently. I had grown to enjoy the sunrise rhythm of tiredly tying on my apron alongside Katie, pulling baked goods from the freezer she’d made last night with Rose, and popping them in the oven. Our regulars, like Pastor Tim and Reverend James, came and went, being welcomed by the scent of hot espresso and baking scones and muffins. There were a few neighboring shop owners who came in nearly every morning for their coffee and scones. We had a few nurses who came by before or after their shifts, and police officers, firefighters, and teachers, who would bring in tumblers that I would fill with hot coffee every single morning. I knew their names and their tastes. I had started to know their orders, like memorizing an anthem.
It was later in the morning when students would come by with thick books and a desire for coffee as a treat more than a necessity. Moms with strollers who were onto their third cup by now and would try the sugary seasonal drink orders. Friends who would come in to talk and let their drinks get cold on the table between them.
It was after all this that finally Gabe would stroll in for his daily mocha.
This morning he was blowing on the steaming mug when he mused, “I’m going to adopt a dog today.”
“Really?” I asked, my eyes wide in surprise.
“Yeah, his name is Jack.”
“Wait, wait. When did this happen?”
“I’ve been in talks with the local adoption agency, you know Paws for Effect? I was emailing with one of the owners, and she told me this one dog—that they’re calling Jack right now—had been there a while. He’s a little scruffy, and they say he’s a bit of a rascal, but he seems pretty sweet.” His face was lit up with a hesitant excitement, like when we were teenagers and he was telling me about a book he’d just finished, one he wasn’t sure I’d like but wanted to tell me all about anyway. “They don’t know how old he is exactly, but their vet thinks he’s probably just under a year old. They asked if I wanted to meet him. I’ve already filled out all the forms, so if we click today, I get to take him home.”
“Gabe!” I clapped my hands. “Has she sent a picture or anything?”
“Yeah, here.” He handed me his phone. There sat a pup the color of a Hershey’s Kiss with floppy ears like a Labrador, a long snout like a German shepherd, and paws he hadn’t grown into yet. In the photo, he had a bright green ball in his mouth.
“Does he like to fetch?” I asked, after noting the ball.
“I bet he does.” He sounded a little nervous.
“Gabe, are you nervous?”
“Yeah, I’m way more anxious than I expected to be today.” He let out a little laugh.
“Is there anything specific making you feel this way?”
“It just feels kind of big. Plus, what if he has temper issues or something? Or he has allergies—what do I do about a dog with allergies? Or what if he doesn’t like me or feels nervous around me? I also hope it’s a good idea that I’m going to take him home today just to move. He’ll have to adjust to traveling around with me. The shelter said that’s fine and tons of dogs like that and do that, but then I was wondering…” he trailed off.
“Gabriel, I know that you will be a fantastic dog dad,” I said. He smiled at my words. “You laugh, but I’m serious. I think all this caring, as nervous as it is, will be good for this pup.”
He sighed. “I hope he likes me.”
“When are you going to pick him up?”
“I have an appointment for 2 p.m.” He took a sip of his coffee. “When do you get off work?”
“My shift is until noon today.”
“Want to come?” he asked, and my heart swelled in my chest at those three words. Gabriel Hernandez was inviting me into his life.
“For sure,” I said.
