“I’m bringing him to a shelter… unless you want him.”

“He’s not going to a bloody shelter.”

This time I stop. “What else am I supposed to do? I’m only being responsible here.”

“That’s your problem. Maybe you should put more heart into what you do!”

I gasp. “That’s rich coming from you.”

“Me, why?”

“Because you should take your own advice.”

“Meaning?”

“Put your heart in what you do.”

“And where did you get the notion that my heart is not in what I do?”

“Maybe from the fact that in the short time I’ve worked for you, you’ve dated—what? Three, four different women? And the vet seems like another old flame.”

Richard doesn’t deny it. A dark shadow crosses his face, and he flashes me a hard, reproachful glare. “How I spend my time outside the office is none of your business. You’ve no place passing judgment on my personal life.”

“Neither is it any of your business if I want to adopt a dog or not, and you shouldn’t judge me if I say I can’t. Again, take your own advice.” With that, I march away, quickening my pace without waiting for my stupid boss.

***

Even if we don’t say another word to each other for the rest of the day, the moment I get up to leave the office, Richard joins me.

He stops next to me as I wait for the elevator. “I’m coming with you,” he threatens, and I don’t dare retort.

Wrapped in a heavy silence, we walk back toward the clinic.

Until Richard breaks. “I should apologize for earlier; it wasn’t my place to talk to you the way I did.”

“I’m sorry, too. Same as you said.”

“So we’re good?” Richard asks, staring dead ahead.

“Yeah, we’re good.”

Tension lingers. We were both out of line earlier. Still, I appreciate Richard apologizing first.

At the clinic, I bear witness once again to Michelle’s love-struck attitude toward the boss. And it’s a good ten minutes before she notices I’m even there and brings us to see Chevron.

“So how’s he doing?”

“Our puppy is actually a she,” Michelle informs us.

“You’re a girl?” I ask Chevron, who’s back on the table chasing her tail in circles and yapping. I focus on Michelle. “Anything else?”

“She’s slightly underweight for her age and she was malnourished and a bit dehydrated. Anyway, we gave her fluids, and a good diet with plenty of love should cure the rest.”

I bite my lower lip. “Right.”

“You don’t seem convinced?”

Tears already prickle my eyes. “It’s just that I don’t think I can keep her.”

Chevron stops running and lays flat on the table, resting her head on her front paws while whining.