Chapter Twenty-One
The week had passed in a blur. Caitlin had thrown herself completely into her CPA Exam prep course and her job. She’d spent her free time with Beau, who didn’t seem to mind boarding but didn’t enjoy playing with the other daycare doggies as much as she’d hoped. He had no clue what to do with them in the playroom. He was great when she took him to the large breed dog park, but the little yappy dogs boarded with him were foreign and too much. Caitlin totally got that. Jane and Fiona had taken on the energy of terriers for the last few days as they prepared for tonight’s fundraiser, yapping and jumping and whirling in a frenzy. It was exhausting. And she wasn’t sleeping well. Even though she was keeping her mind and body active all the time, thoughts of Taylor wove their way into her head at the worst times, like when she was trying to sleep. Or when she was asleep. Or…okay, when she was doing anything. She’d be relieved when this fundraiser was over and her scheduled, ordered life could go back to normal.
She opened the door of Animal Attraction, hoping things were calmer today than yesterday, since she and Fiona had finally finished the centerpieces for the fundraiser dining tables.
Her hopes for peace were dashed the second she stepped inside the waiting room. Boxes were stacked along the wall and pet carriers full of noisy animals stood in the middle of the room. At the counter, Jane was talking with Fiona, who wore jeans and a T-shirt instead of her vet scrubs and lab coat. Caitlin couldn’t hear what they were saying over all the meowing, barking and…clucking? Really? Yep. That was clucking coming from the carriers.
“Oh, Caitlin. Thank goodness you’re here. I need you to help Fiona take these crates to the venue,” Jane called over the animals.
“Fiooooona!” a nasal voice screeched from inside one of the pet carriers.
“A truck should pull up in ten minutes,” Jane yelled over the racket. “The venue was locked when the people from the shelter arrived to deliver the animals this morning, so they left them here instead.”
Caitlin surveyed the crates. There were only a dozen or so. Nothing she and Fiona couldn’t handle.
“Lemme go put my stuff down and say hello to Beau. I’ll be right back,” Caitlin said, heading around the counter. Jane held up a finger and said something, but Caitlin couldn’t hear her over the animal noises, which were mercifully muffled when the door shut behind her.
“Hey, big guy,” she said over her shoulder in the direction of the kennels. “Ready for a morning cuddle?” She hung her bag on the hook inside the door, then headed back to Beauregard’s kennel.
Everything stopped. Even the squawking and barking and meowing from the waiting room out front seemed to fade away as she stared at the empty kennel. Beau’s name was no longer on a card in the slot by the door.
Gone. He was gone and she hadn’t gotten to say goodbye. To either of them.
A horrible vice-like ache seized her chest. They’d moved to another city and there would never be a chance of bumping into each other now. She wrapped her fingers in the chain link of the empty kennel and pressed her palm to her aching chest. “It’s best this way,” she said to herself for the billionth time that week.
Liar, a tiny voice inside answered.
…
Taylor wiped a hand over his three-day stubble and knocked on Will Anderson’s office door.
“You look like shit,” Will said as Taylor stepped inside.
“Thanks.” He felt like shit, too. It was a good thing the new pilot they’d hired to take over the New York flights had stepped in, because Taylor hadn’t slept more than a few hours all week. For a moment, he lurked just inside the door, studying his friend. Will looked exactly like he had back when they’d served together. In fact, his hair was still in a military cut.
“You gonna stand there and stare at me, or do you plan to tell me what the hell is going on?” Will said. When Taylor didn’t respond, he gestured to a chair. “Sit down before you fall down.”
Taylor sat in one of the two wing chairs facing Will’s large, cluttered desk. Will ran security for Anderson Enterprises, which was a big job with all the pies their various companies had fingers in. One of them even dealt with the acquisition and sale of rare antiques and museum pieces. Most of the times he’d flown Michael Anderson around in the middle of the night had been for antique or art deals for that company.
He pulled the letter he’d written yesterday out of his pocket and placed it on the desk. As he withdrew his hand, he noticed his fingers were shaking. A quick glance at Will revealed he’d noticed, too. Shit. He’d eaten less than he’d slept, and it was clearly catching up with him.
His friend didn’t take the paper, but stared holes through him instead. After what felt like forever, Will leaned forward over his desk. “Talk,” he said. “Because I have no interest whatsoever in what’s on that piece of paper. I’m only interested in you, because buddy, something’s clearly fucked you up.”
Grams’s words ran through Taylor’s head as it had on continuous loop for days now. “You can always get another job. You can’t get another…special.” And she’d been right. Walking away from Caitlin right now was a much bigger risk than walking away from this job.
Taylor took a deep breath and launched into a much more detailed explanation than he’d planned. In fact, once he began, it snowballed into a nonstop monologue. It started with “There’s this woman,” and covered every reason he had to leave his job, including ridiculous hours, endless interruptions, and the need to stay in the city, circling right back around to “There’s this woman,” which seemed to be the center of everything right and wrong with him.
When he finished his speech/rant/embarrassing soul-baring, he looked across the desk to find Will with a weird expression on his face that Taylor read to be surprise, maybe? At least he wasn’t pissed.
Then, the corners of Will’s mouth turned up almost imperceptibly. “Okay. Now it makes sense,” he said. “Listen—”
Taylor stood. “No. Please, man. There’s nothing to talk about.” He gestured to the resignation letter on the desk. “Just let this stand.”
Will didn’t move for a moment as he studied him as if debating something. Then, he stood and circled out from behind his desk. “We’re still on for racquetball on Tuesday mornings, right?”
Taylor gave a relieved sigh. “Sure.”
“Cool. That gives you some time to get some sleep before I thrash you on the court.” He held out his hand and when Taylor shook it, he clapped him on the shoulder.
A few minutes later, on his way down to the lobby, Taylor leaned against the wood-paneled wall of the elevator and studied his reflection in the reflective brass doors. Will had been right. He did look like shit, but he didn’t feel like it anymore. He’d lost his job, but he hadn’t lost his friend. And maybe, if he was lucky, he hadn’t lost his chance for special.