Page 48 of 10 Rings I Hate About You
I was keeping that to myself.
We decided against two more cats. One hissed at everything and another had digestive issues. And we were able to put two of them on our “maybe” list.
At one point, Delaney crouched beside a sleepy basset hound, Droopy, and started telling him about her morning. She was gentle and quiet, as though respecting his peace and not wanting to be rude. He leaned into her while she scratched behind his ears.
I stopped walking.
She paused mid-sentence to check his face, adjusted her hand when he shifted and pulled back, reading him the way you’d read a person who struggled to say what they needed.
My chest tightened unexpectedly, a pressure building behind my ribs that had nothing to do with the shelter’s air quality andeverything to do with the woman kneeling on the floor, giving a basset hound her full and undivided attention.
How had I never seen that before?
That she felt just as connected to animals as I did. That she saw them—not as things, but as individuals with their own personalities, needs, and worth.
“Marc?” she said, glancing up. Her eyes caught in the low lighting, and I could see flecks of brown within the green I’d never noticed before. “What do you think of him?”
“I think,” I said slowly, trying to sound professional and not like I’d just had a minor emotional crisis over a basset hound, “he will fall asleep during yoga and not participate.”
“That’s a valid concern.” She tapped her finger against her chin as though she was giving it serious thought, but her half-smile gave her away. And it humbled me to see this playful side of Delaney. “But people fall asleep in yoga all the time. Maybe he might be a better fit for yoga nidra.” She grinned.
I raised an eyebrow.
She covered her mouth with her hands, feigning mock surprise. “Oh, so Mr.-Know-It-All hasn’t heard of yoga nidra?”
A tiny smirk lifted the corner of my mouth. “Guess not.”
She smiled wider—one of those that you give another person you’re sharing a humorous moment with. “It’s a guided meditation performed lying down to induce deep relaxation. I think maybe Droopy could be our mascot.”
We both laughed as the dog yawned.
The sound of her laughter lit up parts of myself I didn’t think existed.
“But maybe he’ll be what some of the participants need,” I suggested.
She smiled. “Let’s put him down as a yes.”
I nodded and wrote a note next to Droopy’s name.
She turned toward me, and I noticed the tension around her eyes had eased. The corners crinkled in a way I hadn’t seen directed at me before—not the careful courtesy she usually used like a shield.
The moment stretched between us, fragile and tender, and I was afraid to move. Afraid to break whatever this was.
Theo burst into the room then, breathless, wearing the expression of a man who had drawn the short straw. “Uh, we have a potential problem.”
Son of a bitch. Just when things were going well.
“Your grandmother,” he said, “has taken it upon herself to book the yoga classes.”
My entire body went cold. “What?”
Delaney gasped. “What classes? We haven’t even decided when to start. We haven’t finalized the animals or the space or the?—”
“The ones that start next week,” Theo responded with a wince.
We stared at him.
The world tilted slightly. Or maybe that was just my blood pressure spiking to dangerous levels.
