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“Oh.” She knew Paulie, one of the janitors. He was retiring after working there for thirty years. She had spoken to him earlier that day and wished him all the best. He would be taking a well-earned vacation to Bermuda with his wife. “I could spare a few minutes,” she agreed.
“Great. How about you go home and change, and I’ll pick you up in, say, thirty minutes?”
Before she could argue, Brian was walking away. She looked down at her black slacks and pink button-down shirt. It was fine for casual drinks with colleagues. “I need to change?” she asked Finn, who was watching the show with amusement.
He winked at her. “I think you look great.”
“Hmm...” Angela was annoyed, but that wasn’t Paulie’s fault. He deserved a nice farewell. Thinking of the timeline, she shrugged. “I may as well. My friend will be dropping Smithy off soon. I can get changed and put in an appearance for Paulie. And then curl up with my kitten after.”
After a second goodbye to Finn, she left the hospital quickly. She wove her way through traffic easily—and happily. Happily because she was going to see her new furry friend—it really was wonderful to have someone to go home to. But also because she was feeling good. And she knew just who to thank for her newfound good mood.
She was still shocked to learn the lengths Roman had gone to in order to stop the drug problem in the city. Of course, he hadn’t shut down that operation, or any others, for good. That was impossible. Drugs were always going to be a part of society. And it was better to have someone like Roman involved than some drug lord who didn’t give a shit about what they did or who they hurt. She wasn’t suddenly wearing rose-colored glasses. She knew Roman was a criminal and made choices she never would. But she now had a better understanding of perspective.
“It’s all relative,” she murmured as she got out of her car and entered her building. She decided to walk up the stairs, rather than take the elevator, which she liked to do whenever she had the energy.
She said hello to a neighbor and was about to unlock her door when she noticed it already was. She groaned, banging her head against the wood. She didn’t know if it was in annoyance or resignation. Walking in, she found Abel sprawled on her couch with a white kitten on his chest. “Stop breaking into my home,” she told him, putting her stuff on the kitchen island.
“Your home security is shit,” Abel told her—not for the first time. “Why won’t you let Roman install the security he wants? Luca knows the best systems on the market. We literally have a security business at Omertà.”
“Because there’s nothing wrong with the locks and cameras I have now. At least, there wasn’t. Not until a bunch of criminals began breaking in semi-regularly.” She walked over and plucked Smith from Abel’s broad chest. She nuzzled his head, grinning when he immediately started purring. He sounded like a little motorboat. “Thanks for bringing him back,” she said to Abel.
“No problem. He and Wes had heaps of fun today. They visited Mario and Luigi. We didn’t leave them alone, and we didn’t allow them to jump on each other, but I swear they wanted to wrestle.”
“The kittens or the dogs?” Angela asked, smiling.
Abel laughed. “Both. Which is great progress. For all their sweetness, the dogs still won’t play.”
Angela rocked Smith against her chest. “How are the dogs doing overall?”
“Really well. They are calm, sweet, and love pats. But they never play and can’t cope on walks yet. They don’t like the noise of the city or the crowds. They really only like a few people, to be honest. But I can’t blame them. Most people are assholes.”
“And you’re one of the few people, I take it?”
“I am. So is Claire. And Morrigan, Abel, Sal, Roman, you...” He flashed her a grin. “The dogs have good taste.”
“Claire is doing an amazing job with them,” Angela said. “I’m so glad she was there to take care of them.”
Abel nodded, picking at his jeans. “So am I.”
Angela eyed him for a moment. His reactions whenever they discussed Claire were fascinating. “So, is she living there now or what?”
“She’s still too skittish to be out in public. She’s been out a few times now, thanks to Mario and Luigi. But other than that, she still goes nowhere. I’d be crazy by now, but she seems content to remain a hermit,” Abel told her with a concerned frown.
“Insulated,” Angela corrected him. “Claire is content to remain insulated. There’s a difference. She feels safe for the first time in a long time. She doesn’t want to let that security go. I don’t blame her.”
Abel was silent for a moment before meeting her eyes with his stunning blue ones. “You sound like you can relate to how she’s feeling.”
She ducked her head, nuzzling Smithy. “I can,” she responded quietly.
When Abel got up and wrapped her in his arms in a giant bear hug, she allowed it. She leaned into him, accepting his support and affection, and taking comfort. Once, she would have battled against it. Now, she embraced it. She started crying before she even registered the tears.
Abel pulled back, gripping her shoulders. There was a look of panic on his face. “Angel! What is it? What’s wrong? Did I squeeze too hard? Did I crack a rib? Oh god, I’m sorry. I don’t know my own strength. I really am the Hulk!”
Angela laughed, wiping her eyes. “I’m fine. You didn’t squeeze too hard. See.” She held up a still furry, purring kitten. “Smithy isn’t a pancake. These aren’t sad tears. Well, not really,” She amended. Because it was complicated. They were sad tears, but they were also healing tears. And that made all the difference.
Abel eyed her like she was crazy or maybe about to blow. “Whatever you say. Women are weird.”
Angela laughed, the last of her tears drying. “Well, thanks again for bringing Mr. Smith home. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
