“So why don’t you keep her full time?” I ask.

“I’m often away for the weekend, and I go back to England at least twice a year. I wouldn’t be able to manage a dog full time.”

“Mmm…”

“Come on, the solution is right here. I can cover for you when you’re away and drive you home if the weather is awful… or you could borrow my car. Or she could stay at my place sometimes. Or, even better, you could move to Brooklyn.”

Over my dead body. Sorry Chevron, but I can’t leave Manhattan, not even for you. “Yeah, right!”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know, Richard. What if I change jobs? What would happen then?”

The boss smiles a bitter smile. “Already sending out CVs?”

“That’s not what I meant. A dog is a ten-year commitment at the very minimum. And it’s not as if we can decide to keep her now and change our minds in five, ten, or maybe even fifteen years. What if you move back to England? What if one or both of us moves away from New York?”

“We’ll figure something out. You really want to bring Chevron to a shelter?”

I shake my head. “No, but the responsible thing would be to find her a forever family that will adopt her.”

“Then don’t be responsible. Live a little. What if no one adopts her? You want her to stay caged up forever?”

The same cabin fever from the few hours I spent in jail makes my pulse race. I can’t send Chevron to live in a cage. Not even for a day.

“No!”

“So let’s keep her. If we join forces, we can.”

“Are you really ready for this kind of responsibility?”

“I am, if you are.”

I stare into two pairs of puppy-dog eyes and there’s no way I can say no. “Okay then.” I could be going crazy, but Richard’s enthusiasm is infectious.

Richard smiles, too. “So you want to leave her with me tonight?”

“No!” Instinctively, I put a hand on Chevron’s head as if to protect her. “I mean, it’s only May. The weather’s great. She can stay with me for now.”

“So you’re going to walk to work every day?”

“Or bike. I’ll do it instead of running.”

Richard smiles again and shakes his head.

“What?”

“You’re never letting go of that dog, you know that, right?” I start to protest, but he cuts me short. “Come on,” he says, jumping up from the bench and offering me his hands. “Let’s go.”

As I walk home over the Manhattan Bridge, I can’t help the little smile pulling at my lips. I know Richard offered to help only for Chevron’s sake, but still, he was ready to commit to us—okay, to her—for an undisclosed number of years. All Indira’s theories about his phobia must be exaggerated. All the boss needs is a little push…

Eight

Always Dress Properly

The need to walk to work forces me to tone down my wardrobe and sort of embrace the athleisure movement. So today my outfit—a pale pink scuba-jersey sweatshirt, shiny paneled leggings, and the irreplaceable pink wedge All Stars—gains me a wink of approval from Indira as soon as I round my desk.