Page 142 of 10 Rings I Hate About You
Silently, I pleaded that it was earlier in the day.
“We saw the yoga class listed on the shelter’s website. Very creative approach—we’d love to see it in action.”
“We had an adoption match tonight, in fact.”
“Excellent. My assistant will reach out for details. Have a good evening.”
“You too.”
I lowered the phone.
Well, fuck me.
One week.
We’d held two classes. And only one was a success.
And now, the fate of everything Theo had spent five years building—every grant application, every program outline, every early morning and late evening he’d put into this shelter, into something that actually served the community—would be evaluated on the basis of a single yoga class, by a committee that would be watching every animal incident with professional attention.
I sagged against the wall.
Behind the door, Delaney was laughing at something, and Theo’s animated voice recounted a recent animal escapade.
I pushed off the wall and went back inside.
Delaney saw my face before I crossed the room. She said something brief to Cheryl, touched her arm once, and came to me.
“What happened?”
I recounted the story to her sympathetic ears.
“Don’t worry, Marc. We’ve got this,” she promised.
I wanted to believe her with all my heart, but despite her assurance, I couldn’t help but worry.
Chapter Twenty-Five
DELANEY
Marc’s hands were tight on the steering wheel.
Not white-knuckled. They stayed firm. His hands at ten and two, no deviation. He sat ramrod straight, like even a fraction of a movement might change the trajectory of the future. That if he relaxed for a second and things fell apart, it would be his fault.
By the time we reached the end of the block, neither of us were talking. The noises from the class had fallen away, leaving only the quiet hum of the engine and the soft rhythm of our breathing.
He didn’t turn on the radio.
I didn’t reach for it, either. We travelled in the silence of two people who knew something the rest of the world didn’t.
Theo was probably already home now, likely replaying Tucker finding Mia and Marmalade finding Doug and Sienna, texting shelter staff who weren’t on duty tonight about it. Riding that specific high of watching something you believed in working out.
We hadn’t told him yet.
Marc had decided to let Theo have tonight. I was in agreement. The weight of next Friday could find him in the morning or on Monday.
If I had any remaining doubt about the kind of man Marc Kingsley was, that decision would have settled it.
“Tonight went really well,” I said.
