Page 63 of Buttons

After fifteen minutes, it became too much for him, and he stepped outside. The point is, he waited for me. He tried until he couldn’t take it, but he didn’t force me to be a certain way.

I thought I’d won it all. I’d known about Carmella’s crush on him, but I’d won. Here was this brilliant, up-and-coming businessman that everyone knew would be something. He was unique, but not in a cruel way. At least, that is what I believed before I discovered his pro-con list for potential wives. At the time, I truly thought, ‘Wow. He chose me! Despite my button nose, curly hair, and short legs, he is choosing to take me out.’

Memory shattering, I’m brought back to the adoption fair when I hear Sarah shout, “Oh hell no! What ishedoing here?”

Drama is on its way.Sarah marches across the shelter with such purpose that even Augustus, our most unflappable cat, retreats under a blanket. She plants herself between Julian and me, arms crossed, chin lifted in challenge.

Julian takes a step back, not to retreat, but to create space.

“Sarah,” I start, but she cuts me off with a raised hand.

“No, I want to hear it from him.” She jabs a finger in Julian’s general direction. “First, the restaurant with Ms. Perfect Hair, and now you’re showing up uninvited at Elowen’s workplace? Are you stalking her now, you creep?”

Leo looks up from where he’s still kneeling with his tabby friend, eyes wide and worried. Meredith clutches Pepper, sensing the tension but not understanding it. Gosh darn it. Making a scene with my children is the last thing I want.

“Mom?” Leo’s voice comes out small.

“It’s okay,” I tell him quickly. “Sarah and your father are just having a grown-up discussion.”

“Is that what we’re calling it?” Sarah mutters.

Julian clears his throat, and his expression shifts. “I’ll, uh…just grab some water,” he says, gesturing toward the cooler set up for adoption fair visitors. “It’s warm in here.”

Before either Sarah or I can respond, he walks toward the refreshment table at the edge of the enclosure. Not fleeing, exactly, but creating breathing room for everyone.

Sarah turns to me, brows nearly reaching her hairline. “Did he just back down from a confrontation?”

I shrug, as confused as she is. “I didn’t know he was coming. He showed up randomly and offered to help with the adoption fair.”

“Mm-hmm. Right after I showed you those pictures.” Sarah’s eyes narrow. “Quite the coincidence.”

Julian returns juggling five water bottles, condensation beading on the plastic. He offers one to the kids first, and then to Sarah. It’s a small gesture that doesn’t escape my notice.

“Here,” he says. “It’s bottled. I assume it is cleaner than tap, though I recently heard about microplastics being found in bottled water.”

Sarah accepts it with theatrical suspicion, turning the bottle in her hands as if inspecting for tampering. “Did you poison it?” she asks, brow raised.

I tense, expecting Julian’s jaw to tighten. Instead, his mouth curves into an amused smile. “My evil days are behind me,” he replies dryly. “Now it’s all about harm reduction. If I wanted to kill you, I would have gone with tap.”

Sarah blinks, clearly thrown by his response. I nearly drop my water bottle.

A familiar voice cuts through our stunned silence. “Is there a reason you’re shouting profanities at my adoption fair, Sarah?” Beatrix appears beside us, clipboard in hand and reading glasses perched on her nose. Her gaze travels from Sarah’s defensive stance to Julian’s careful neutrality to my obvious confusion. “There are children here with sensitive dispositions.”

“Sorry, Beatrix.” Sarah has the grace to look abashed. “I was expressing my concerns about Mr. Plaza’s unexpected visit.”

“Loudly,” Beatrix observes dryly. “And with vocabulary that would make Buttons crinkle his nose.”

“And mine!” Leo shouts. I walk the few feet to Leo and place my hand on his head.

“I apologize for the disruption,” Julian says, turning to Beatrix with what appears to be genuine respect.

Beatrix studies him. “I’ve only seen good things so far. Keep it up.”

Sarah’s mouth actually drops open.

“O’Malley, close your mouth before flies get in,” Beatrix says. “And show Mr. Plaza where the truck is parked. You were complaining about having to move those bags yourself ten minutes ago.”

Sarah looks like she’s been asked to escort a bank robber to the vault. “Fine,” she says after a beat. “But I’m watching you, Plaza.”