Page 18 of My Heart Still Beats
“I know that, but the dog has to go out.”
“I’ll take her for you.”
“She won’t go with you,” I say. “You’re a stranger.”
“Then we’ll go together.”
The man has an answer for everything.
Nausea makes its way from my stomach up my throat. I swallow it back. “This is a safe neighborhood, Ben. I’ll be fine.”
But he stays outside my apartment as I unlock my door, calm Rita down, and get her leash attached to her collar. I’m equal parts annoyed and relieved.
Ben doesn’t say a word—neither do I—as we walk down the stairs together.
I usually take Rita on a short walk every morning before work to give her some exercise. But the rest of the time, we only stay out until she goes to the bathroom. Lately, I’ve been lazy about the walks, though.
Normally it’s just a pee in the evening, but tonight it’s number two as well. And of course, I forgot the bag. Ben has me flustered, off my usual routine.
“I’ve got to go back upstairs and get a bag,” I say.
“You think she’ll stay with me? That way you don’t have to drag her up with you.” He kneels and scratches her behind her ears. “You’re a sweet girl, aren’t you?”
Surprisingly, Rita takes to Ben, and itwillbe easier for me to trudge back upstairs to get the bag without her tagging along. But that isn’t entirely the point. I pin Ben with a look. “You mean you’re going let me go alone, when a few minutes ago you wouldn’t?”
He simply smiles. “If you’re not back in five minutes, Rita and I are coming up.”
Something in me wants to return his smile.
But I don’t. I just turn and leave to get the bag.
Chapter Four
Ben
I love dogs. Always have. But I don’t have one of my own. I travel so much between here and my place in New York and abroad that I never thought it would be fair to the dog.
Rita’s a cute and scruffy little thing, white with gray markings—an obvious rescue. I’d say she’s mostly some kind of terrier, and I can’t guess her age, exactly. She doesn’t seem old, but she’s definitely not a puppy anymore. She doesn’t seem bothered by me as she continues to sniff the ground.
“Hey, pup,” I say.
She wags her tail at me. She’s small enough that I can easily pick her up, so I kneel and take her in my arms. She licks my face. And I can’t help myself. I laugh.
Yeah, I’ve got to get a dog.
“She doesn’t usually let people pick her up.”
I turn at Tessa’s voice. She opens a bag and scoops up the poop, knotting it closed. Then she walks over to the trash can close to the entrance and drops it in.
Rita is wriggling in my arms. I let her down and hand the leash to Tessa. “I’ll see you back up.”
“Ben, I was just up there.”
“I know. But I’m going to see you to your door. It’s what I do. Besides”—I bend down and give Rita a pet—“Rita and I are good friends now.”
She sighs but doesn’t argue.
We walk back in, up the four flights of stairs, and Tessa unlocks the door to her unit.
