I laugh and then realize that I never really thought I was sleeping here tonight. I think I knew I was just going through the motions until he came to get me. “OK, yeah, yeah, yeah, come get me!” I say. “I’m excited to see you.”
“I’ll leave now,” he says.
So within thirty minutes of us getting home, I am on my way out the door to meet Ethan’s car.
When I walk into the living room to grab my bag, I see Gabby in the kitchen in her pajamas, getting a glass of water.
“Headed somewhere?” she asks, teasing me.
“Caught me,” I say.
“I called it,” she says. “Although I figured you’d have us drop you off at his place, so you lasted longer than I thought.”
“At least I’m a little unpredictable.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” she says as I turn to the door. “Wait.”
She pulls the cinnamon rolls off the counter and brings them to me. “Please take these with you. Leave them at Ethan’s. I can’t look at them without wanting to eat them all.”
I laugh. “And you think I can?”
“Yeah, well,” she says, “you attract cinnamon rolls everywhere you go. I can’t live like that.”
I take the cinnamon rolls. “I should send your parents a thank-you note,” I say. I hear Ethan’s car pull up.
Gabby looks at me as if that’s the dumbest idea she’s ever heard. “They would be insulted,” she says. “It would be like if I sent them one for raising me. Stop.”
I laugh.
“But also, go,” she says. “Pretty sure he’s right outside.”
I give her a hug and tell her I’ll see her tomorrow.
I walk out the door, and Ethan’s car is parked right in front. I watch him for a moment before he knows he’s being seen. He’s turning the key out of the ignition. He’s opening his door.
“You look gorgeous,” he says.
I smile and then quickly find myself laughing at the idea that Gabby could have heard him. I can just imagine her opening up a window and calling down to the street, “OK, but that’s not where a woman’s worth lies!”
I smile at him and walk toward the car as he opens the passenger door for me. I hug him and get in. He gets in on his side and pulls away from the curb.
“Is that an entire batch of cinnamon rolls?” he asks. The smell has filled up the car.
“Yep,” I say. “And if you’re nice to me, I’ll let you have one or five.”
“Never a dull, cinnamon-roll-less moment with you.”
“Never,” I say.
Ethan grabs my hand at a stop sign. He kisses my cheek at a red light.
I feel like myself around him. And I like myself around him. So far, I like who I am in this city. I feel like a long-forgotten version of myself, a version I’m much more comfortable being than the New York me.
Suddenly, a small, wily dog runs out into the middle of the street.
Ethan quickly veers the car to the side of the road to avoid hitting it. The dog continues to make its way across to the other sidewalk. It’s late enough that there are no cars coming up behind us yet. Ethan pulls over.
“We gotta get that dog,” he says, just as I have my hand on the door handle, about to jump out and chase it down. We both get out of the car and run toward the dog, watching out for any possible oncoming traffic.
I can see it, just up ahead.
“On the right side of the street by the Dumpster,” I say. “Can you see it?”
Ethan comes toward me, looking. He starts walking slowly after the dog.
“Hey, buddy,” he says when he gets close. The dog prances on down the street, not a care in the world. Ethan creeps up, trying to grab hold, but the moment the dog sees him coming, it runs in the other direction. I run a bit faster and try to cut the dog off on the other side, but I just miss it. The dog is brown and a dingy white, bigger than I thought from far away but still on the smaller side, a terrier of some kind. Shaggy but short-haired, small but feisty.
There’s a car coming. Ethan once again gets close and tries to grab the dog but fails. The dog thinks we are playing a game.
The car is now barreling down the road. I start to fill with panic that the dog will run into the street again. I’m a few feet away. The dog is playfully prancing off in the other direction.
I growl at it, loudly. I give it the best animal-like roar I can muster.
It stops in its tracks. I turn away from it and start running, hoping it will chase me. It does. Just as quickly as it was running away from me, it’s now running toward me. When it reaches my feet, it jumps up onto me. I quickly bend down and pick it up. The car flies past us. Relief washes over me.
It’s a female. No collar. No tags.
Ethan comes running up to meet me. I am holding the dog in my arms.
“Christ,” he says. “I honestly thought she was a goner.”
“I know,” I say. “But she’s OK. We got her.”
She has curled right into my chest. She is licking my hand.
“Well, clearly, this dog is a trained killer,” Ethan says.
I laugh. “Yeah, I have no doubt she’s just biding her time until she can attack.”
“So no tags,” Ethan says. “No leash, no nothing.”
“Nope,” I say, shaking my head. “My guess is we will have to take her to a vet tomorrow and see if she’s chipped. Put some fliers up.”
“OK,” he says. “In the meantime . . .”
“We can’t leave her out on the street,” I say. “Do you have room for two women to join you this evening?”
Ethan nods. “I’m sure we can find a spot for her.”
We both start walking back to the car. When we get there, Ethan opens the door for both of us.
“We should probably name her,” I say. “You know, temporarily.”
“You don’t think we can just call her the Dog?” Ethan says as he goes around to his side.
“No, I think she deserves a noble name. Something epic. Grandiose.”
“A big name for a small dog,” Ethan offers.
I nod. “Exactly.”
Ethan starts driving. We think for a minute, and then I’m convinced I’ve got it. “Charlemagne,” I say. “She’s little Charlemagne.”
“Charlemagne was a man,” Ethan says. “Does that matter?”
“But doesn’t it sort of sound more like a woman’s name?”
Ethan laughs. “Now that you mention it, yes. All right, well, there you go, Charlemagne it is. Tomorrow, Charlemagne, we’re going to find your owner and make someone very happy. But tonight you belong with us.”
When we get through the front door of Ethan’s apartment, I finally let her go. She immediately starts running around, zipping through the rooms. We watch her, stunned by her energy, until she finally gets a running start and jumps onto the bed. She curls up in the corner.
“I can’t keep her,” he says to me. “Not that you’re saying you think I should, I just . . . want to be clear about that. I can’t have pets in my building.”
I shake my head. “No, I know. We’ll find her real owners tomorrow. Maybe I’ll take a bus to a vet first thing.”
“I can give you my car,” he says. “I could get a ride from someone.”
“It’s OK,” I say. “Since I’m going to take this job with Carl, I have to get a car anyway. I’ll turn her in at the vet in the morning and then maybe take a cab or a bus to a few dealerships, see about buying a car.”
“You’re taking a job,” he says. “You’re buying a car.”
“Yeah,” I say.
“You’re putting down roots.”
“I guess I am.”
He smiles at me, holding my gaze much longer than necessary. “With a dog in the bed, I’m guessing we’re not gonna get busy,” he jokes.
“Probably not.”
He shrugs. “Well,” he says, his eyes focused on me, “I guess this relationship will have to be about more than just sex. Are you OK with that?”