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“Fair warning, my apartment’s a mess,” I tell him once we finally make it to my place.
He laughs softly in my ear, his hands on my waist, chest against my back. “It’s always a mess, Bridge.”
“Why don’t we ever go toyourplace?” I ask Will as I struggle to open my front door. I can barely get the words out, much less go through the whole process needed to get inside my apartment, as his lips trail up and down my neck. I can feel his impatience on my lower back, hard and eager, so I push my ass out into him.
He groans and whispers my name, causing a burst of electricity to run through me. When he bites the spot between my neck and shoulder, I shiver and he laughs.
Whatever it was he was going to say before we were interrupted by the cab driver must be far from his mind, because his hands have not stopped touching me since getting out of the car.
“You have Ginger, remember? We can’t just abandon her,” he reminds me.
I smile at his use of the wordweuntil I realize something.
Ginger.
My heart sinks to my stomach because she’s not insistently meowing on the other side of the door when I slide in the keys, scratching and howling for me to come in and feed her. In fact, it is eerily quiet in the apartment.
“Oh my god.” I shake Will off and focus on getting the door open, kicking it and jiggling it just like I’m supposed to.
“Wait, what’s happening?” he asks, but I’m barely processing his words because once I walk into the apartment, I catch Ginger snoozing on her chair. But she doesn’t lift her head to look at me, doesn’t open her eyes—doesn’t even move.
“Oh my god” I cry again, feeling the start of tears trail down my cheeks. I kneel in front of her and gently pet her head, which earns me a quiet meow—barely even there—and one open eye.
“Is she okay?” Will kneels beside me, petting her back. There’s a sense of urgency in his voice I would find adorable if I weren’t in a state of panic.
“I need to get her to the emergency room. She’s been sick, but I thought it was just a virus or something. But she looks worse. This is bad.”
I get up and kick off my heels, pulling on a pair of flats as I frantically search for her carrier in the back of my closet.
“Which animal hospital do you want to take her to?” Will’s phone is out, his face pulled into a concentrated frown. He looks so serious right now. So authoritative.
Protector.
Partner.
Safe place.
“I can get us an uber.”
“What? No. It’s almost midnight, Will. This could take hours.”
“I’m not letting you take Ginger to the emergency room this late at night by yourself.”
“I can take care of myself.” I would sound more convincing if my voice wasn’t trembling through tears, my face probably already red and blotchy.
I’m a mess.
He cups my face with one hand, and takes the carrier from me with the other. “I know you can, Bridge. That doesn’t mean shit, though. I want to come. For you and for Ginger. I care about her too.” Hearing those words is what finally breaks me down—I let myself burst into tears. Will immediately drops the carrier and takes me in his arms.
“I’m scared. I love her so much. Aside from you, she’s my best friend in the whole world.” I sob once against his tux.
“I know, Bridge. That’s why we need to get going so we can help her get better.”
* * *
“What is taking so long?They took her back to triage, like, half an hour ago!” I whisper-yell at Will from the waiting room as I pace back and forth. It’s past midnight, and I’m feeling more exhausted than I think I ever have in my entire life.
“Calm down, Bridge. They know what they’re doing. I googled this place, and they’re the highest-rated emergency animal hospital in New York.” Will’s still wearing his tux, though his bow tie is in his pant pocket and the top two buttons are undone.
