Page 25 of Aperture
“This one is my favorite,” she says as she slides it over to me. It’s a candid photo of the family before we started shooting. Sarah and Jeff are smiling down at the kids, who are looking at each other like they are about to have a fist fight.
I am smiling and looking directly into the camera. I remember this moment because I had caught Millie looking at me and made sure she knew it. She had gotten flustered afterward and started mumbling about “catching the light.”
She gets flustered quickly and blushes often. I like that about her. She is not contrived and fake, like the other women I tend to spend time with. Millie is a special person, and I know I should leave her alone because I’m not the guy for her, but I just cannot stop thinking about her.
It pisses me off that I saw her with Wyatt. I still don’t know why he is even here; although, I have a suspicion. My sister’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts.
“I think I’m definitely giving this one to mom and dad,” she says. “You have your patented ‘get out of jail free smile’ going on,” she says with a laugh.
My mom has always teased me about that. She says I can charm anyone with my smile. She’s not wrong. I learned a long time ago that because I look like I do and smile as I do, people give me the benefit of the doubt. It is something I use to my advantage often.
“Hey, can I get a copy of this one, too?” I ask.
“Just take that one,” she says. “I have to buy frames and stuff anyway. I’ll order another one. I really liked Millie. I’ve recommended her to several people already.”
I take a sip of my coffee and smile down at the picture Millie took. She really is an extraordinary photographer. She is an extraordinary everything.
“I like her, too,” I say, against my better judgment.
Sarah smiles widely and starts to ask me a question but I hold my hand up.
“I will let you know when there’s something to tell.” That seems to appease my sister’s curiosity for now.
Chapter 18
“OK, Big Guy,” I say to Milo as we walk down the street. “Today is your day!”
We’ve been advertising on social media all week to find him a home. The thought makes me sad, but I understand that this is how fostering works.
I’m forced to speed-walk the whole way just to keep up with him until we get closer to the shelter, and then he comes to an abrupt halt. I can tell what he’s thinking. Hell no, Lady. I’m not going back to that place.
I crouch down so that we’re eye to eye and make a pact with him, right then and there.
“If no one adopts you today, Milo, you’re coming home with me. I promise. No more shelter, OK?” I stand up and start walking toward the door. As if he understands me, he falls in line with my step. He is no longer trotting excitedly, but he is not making me drag his heavy ass, either.
“Hi, Barb!” I exclaim as we enter the shelter.
Our shelter cat, Oreo, looks down from his perch on the counter at the peasant he envisions Milo to be and then lazily kicks his leg up and starts cleaning himself.
“Any interest in Milo?” I ask tentatively.
I can tell by the look on her face that the news isn’t good.
“No,” she says. “Lots of likes and comments online, but no one has committed to taking him.”
I look down at Milo, and he looks up at me expectantly. Oreo yawns, looks at all of us and then closes his eyes like none of us are worth his time or consciousness.
“Barb, I’m taking Milo,” I tell her. “I think he’s meant to be mine.”
“Really?” She gushes as she runs over to me and hugs me hard, causing me to make an “oompf” noise as the air gets knocked out of my lungs.
“Definitely,” I answer, confident in my decision.
“Millie! I was so hoping you would say that!” she exclaims.
She goes to the counter and grabs the adoption paperwork. I pay the $150 fee, which Barb tries to wave, but these shelters rely on money coming in, and I want to do my part.
Once we are done, I pat Milo on the head, and he happily walks out of the shelter. Next, we head to the local pet store to stock up on food, treats, and possibly a sweater. Is Milo a sweater guy? We are about to find out.
