I want to think he'll remember me.

"His ear looks better," Adam says behind me.

I twist around while getting to my feet. "Hey. What are you doing here?"

Adam shoves his hair out of his face. There's a plastic bag hanging from his arm from the record store, so it's safe to say he came straight from work. "It was slow. They sent me home. You're off soon, right?"

"Twenty minutes." I hesitate, a smile pulling at my face. I want to kiss him hello, but I'm not sure that I should. He's better at this whole being-affectionate-in-public thing. I get too paranoid about drawing attention to myself. Yet one more thing on my list of stuff to talk to Dr. Dumar about.

Seeing as he has no problems with it, though, Adam leans in and presses his mouth against mine. Briefly, lightly, just enough to satisfy himself. A compromise.

"Let me finish up a few things and I'll be right out," I say, ducking my head because I know how red my face must be.

Adam lets me slip away and I head into the back. I've finished all my work, so it's a matter of killing a few minutes washing the dog-smell off my hands, clocking out, and getting changed back into a regular t-shirt instead of the work-issued blue one.

As I'm grabbing my coat, Helen—the broad-shouldered lady I gave my application to who wasn't actually named Bertha or Dottie at all—pops her head into the back room. "Thought I'd let you know that dog of yours is getting ready to head out with his new family."

I freeze, one arm in my coat sleeve. "What?"

She inclines her chin in the general direction of the lobby. "If you want to say goodbye, you'd better hurry up."

I dart past her, fumbling to get my jacket on, heart hammering in my chest. I'm not ready for this. I've been trying really, really hard—five days without crying and counting—and I don't want to ruin that. I don't want to break down and disappoint Adam or Helen. My shoes squeak on the linoleum as I round the corner, past the kennels, breathing so hard I'm sure my lungs will burst.

At the front desk I spot Dog, wagging his tail a mile a minute. He catches sight of me and begins pulling at his leash like a fish on the end of a line.

The leash Adam is holding.

I stop a few feet away. Breathing hard. Staring. Unsure what I'm seeing.

Adam stops what he's doing and turns to look at me. In one hand is a pen. In the other is the red slip of paper. Adoption Pending.

Oh.

Dog jerks at his leash again and this time Adam lets him go. He crashes into my legs, trying to jump up on me but without the balance to do so. He’s a good thirty-five squirming pounds, but I scoop him up and let him go to town sniffing and licking my face and hair.