In fact, they’d been alone together for so long, she doubted they were aware just how weirdly codependent they’d become.

No one knew that kind of relationship better than Sophie. When sacrifices were made—when one life was put on hold for the sake of another—it was impossible to just pack up and move on. No matter how much you might want to.

“I think he has a right to know,” Sophie said gently. “It’s as much his life as yours.”

Wallace pointed a gnarled finger at her. “If you say so much as a word to him, young lady…”

“You’ll what?” Her voice took on a hint of the steel that had been appearing so much in Parks company lately. “Let me remind you that I don’t work for you, or even for your son. I work for Oscar.”

Wallace’s internal struggle was visible on every line of his face. His lips twitched and twisted and finally turned flat. “Please,” he said. “I’m asking as a personal favor. I’ll tell him the moment my plans are finalized, I promise.”

Had he turned surly or made more of those gruff demands, Sophie might have been able to stand her ground. That bleak look, however, and that plea in his voice…

She sighed. “The moment they’re finalized,” she warned.

“Word of a Parks,” he promised. Before she had time to wonder just what she’d gotten herself into, he added, “Well?”

“Um. Well, what?”

He released an exasperated sigh. “What kind of dog should I get for Minerva? Something friendly but not too friendly. Clean and low-maintenance. And none of that messy shedding everywhere, yeah?”

She splayed her hands helplessly. Although she might be comfortable selecting service animals for clients with very specialized health and professional needs, she had no idea what to tell him. What she wanted to say—that he couldn’t move out without at least talking to his son first—was clearly off the table.

“A cat,” she finally said.

“Eh?”

“What you’re describing isn’t a dog—it’s a cat. And not a kitten either. You want one of those gnarly old ones from the animal shelter that everyone else overlooks because it has one eye and mangy fur and hates children.”

“I do?”

“Yes. Those cats need good homes more than kittens, and they’re almost always well-trained. They practically take care of themselves.”

She’d half expected Wallace to be up in arms at her suggestion, but he nodded and scratched his grizzled chin. “A cat. Yes, a cat. With one eye and a terrible personality. She’ll love that.”

Sophie wasn’t sure whether that was a point for or against Minerva’s taste, but she merely echoed, “She’ll love that.”

With a cackle and a wink, Wallace turned to leave. “Of course. After all, she chose me, didn’t she?”

Chapter 17