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Lauren got weird about it immediately.
She sent the most ridiculous of the Reggie photos, then held the phone flat against her chest as if Carly might be able to see her through it.
Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Then a photo came through: Berkeley sitting to attention beside his lead, ears pricked, expression grave.
Lauren was smiling before she’d decided to.
Do you think he’s hinting?
She hesitated, thumb hovering. Carly obviously had Berkeley for her dad again. Offering to help was just dog-person solidarity.
Do you want me to walk him for you?
One second. Two. Three.
Together?
One word. Brisk. Possibly practical. Possibly nothing.
Lauren smiled so hard her face hurt.
She rolled out of bed fast enough to startle Reggie, whose head shot up.
“Sorry, boy. It’s walkies time.”
At walkies, Reggie stretched, yawned and thudded to the floor, tail thrashing against her legs.
She was fully dressed before she remembered she hadn’t actually replied.
Reggie watched in silent judgement while she dug her phone out of the duvet. She typed if that works, then deleted it. Too anxious. She typed no worries if not, then deleted that too. Worse.
Park? Café side?
Dots. Gone. Dots.
20 minutes?
Fourteen minutes later, she’d brushed her teeth, fed Reggie, piled him into the car and made it to the park.
The clear autumn days had turned into wintry November ones, the paths still glittering with frost where the trees kept the sun off. Lauren zipped her puffer jacket to her chin. Reggie jumped down with no regard for the cold, breath clouding, and strained towards the field.
Carly was already there. Of course she was.
She stood by a dark grey car with a coffee in one hand and Berkeley’s lead in the other, wool hat pulled low. She looked like someone you’d trust with survival equipment and a map. Lauren had left the house with toothpaste on her sleeve.
Berkeley spotted Reggie first. His whole body lifted, like an aircraft carrier changing course. Reggie gave a delighted huff and trotted over, tail swinging.
“Morning,” Carly said.
“Morning.” Lauren tried to sound like someone who had not nearly sprained herself getting ready. “How’s he doing?”
“Impatient.”
“I can relate.”
“Reggie looks settled.”
“Too settled. He’s rediscovered my bed and considers it his. All of it.”
