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“In lo-o-o-ve,” Mom singsongs, just as a small white dog with a blue bow tie attached to his collar jumps up in her lap. Mom strokes the dog’s back as it licks her chin enthusiastically.
Could Mom be right? If I’m not in love, am I heading in that direction?
Is Bailey?
I watch as she says something animatedly to Zella, a flush in her cheeks. “Can you blame me?”
Mom pats my knee. “Not even a little bit.”
CHAPTER 17
Bailey
The days leadingup to my wedding day—I still can’t even think the wordsmy wedding daywithout giggling nervously—are a blur of busy. I’m working full-time. Eli’s schedule is intense as they prepare for their two-week trip.
And now it’s move-in day.
Which means I’m distracted at the shelter, walking with my head down, my focus halfway on the chart in my hands, halfway on the boxes stacked by the door of my apartment—soon to be stacked in Eli’s guest room, which I still haven’t seen.
“Oh,” I say, jumping back as I collide with a person where I didn’t see a person moments ago. My fingers flex and I drop the file, papers fluttering to the floor. “Sorry.”
Dr. Evie runs her hands down the front of her white lab coat as though checking for damage, then picks at an invisible piece of nothing, her expression just short of disgusted, like I’ve infected her with some kind of virus.
I haven’t exactly been avoiding her since she agreed to write me a recommendation. Not unless you count ducking into the kennels when I hear her voice outside the door or suddenly deciding to walk the dogs early.
I crouch and gather the papers, stuffing them back in the folder. “I’m sorry.”
When I stand, Dr. Evie is smiling. A crocodile smile. “Guess I can understand why you’re distracted. What with the wedding and all.”
I haven’t spoken to her one time about this, which means she must have seen it on social media. Personally, I’ve been avoiding all things internet ever since Parker warned me it could get overwhelming—or ugly. “Don’t get me wrong,” Parker said, “social media is my job and it’s a beautiful thing. But with the way fans tend to obsess over the players, ignorance might be bliss.”
Now, I’m suddenly wondering what things Dr. Evie might have seen or might know that I don’t. Does she follow Eli on social media? Read the comments? Drop into his DMs? The idea makes my stomach churn.
“I can’t believe you met him right here,” she says with a shake of her head.
Clearly, that’s not all she can’t believe. More likely than not, she can’t believe someone likeme—shy, unassuming, pretty but not hot—snagged someone like Eli. Maybe she thinks if she met him first, things would be different.
“What are the odds?”
“It’s been … a whirlwind,” I say, pulling the folder tight to my chest, an ineffective paper shield.
“I’ll bet.” Her tone is crisp, and I swear, I can almost feel her taking stock of me, tallying up my strengths and weaknesses to arrive at a final score. One she finds wanting.
I wish Beth was working today. She makes an excellent buffer. Or Cyn. Everyone stays out of her way. But today, it’s just me and some volunteers.
“I’d better get back to it.” I give her a tight smile and start to walk away. I hardly remember where I was going, but now I’m going to head out front to reception. Just to be in another room.
Before I can push through the door, though, Dr. Evie says, “Oh, I meant to tell you …”
And I already know this won’t be something I want to hear, even while she’s assembling her features into what I think is supposed to be compassion? Hard to tell. Other than to know it’s completely insincere.
“I’ve gone over your performance reviews”—we have performance reviews?—“and unfortunately, I’m not going to be able to write that vet school recommendation for you after all.”
I’m only able to shelve my frustration and fury over Dr. Absolutely Evil because the moment I get home from work, my apartment fills with hockey players. They’re too big for the space, too loud, too much for my thoughts to fixate on the reality that while I might now have money to pay for vet school applications, I won’t have a recommendation to help me get in.
I shelve those thoughts and worries for another time. Maybe around four o’clock on the last Wednesday of never.
My tongue tangle activated when three guys I barely know showed up in my space to help carry boxes. I’m fairly comfortable around Van now, but barely know the quiet Nathan and the flirtatious Alec. What does it say about me that it only takes four people—Eli, Van, Nathan, and Alec—twenty minutes and the back of one pick-up truck to load all my possessions?Hopefully, it says that I’m not superficial and tied to material things. Rather than being a flashing neon sign indicating the smallness of my life.
