The Heart Wants What It Wants

Chapter Five

As I fit the key in my front door, I tell Jennie, "I'll just need to let Buckley out. There's only so much pee the wee-wee mats can handle." It feels like an unnecessary bit of information, because she's lived in this house with a dog who stayed indoors while we were both at work all day. But I need to talk to cover the awkwardness.

"Sure, no problem." She's right behind me and as I unlock the door and disable the alarm, her fingers brush the back of my jacket as if she's afraid I'm going to race through the door, slam it, and leave her outside. Buckley rushes to greet me as he always does and when he spots Jennie, he freezes with a front leg hovering in midair and his tail straight up.

Laughing, I tell him, "S'okay, Buck, you big dork. Look closer."

I've barely finished speaking before Jennie exclaims, "Buckie! Hello, my guy! I've missed you!"

The moment she talks, Buckley rushes over and erupts into a frenzy of leaps and squirms and licks before starting zoomie laps around the house. I let him complete two and a quarter laps—mostly because the sound of Jennie's laughter is incredible—before I ask him to chill. He's too big to be cavorting around like this and has reached the body-tilting-sideways around corners stage and begun to skid out, and it's only a matter of time before he loses control and takes out a piece of furniture or pees in excitement.

Jennie drops to her knees and opens her arms, and Buckley almost knocks her down with the force of his approach. She hugs him tightly, scratches his back, kisses his face, rubs his ears, and laughingly pushes him away when he tries to lick her ear. Unlike cat-person me, Jennie has always been a dog person and when my brother, Shawn, dropped Buckley off out of the blue and asked me to watch him for a few days, Jennie had jumped in and said we'd love to watch Baby-Buckie before I'd been able to complain about what a pain it would be.

She'd loved taking care of the puppy, babying him and continuing the basic obedience training Shawn had started. She fed Buckley, worked on his house training, pouted at me when I insisted the puppy had a perfectly wonderful and comfortable dog bed and blankies in our room, and didn't need to sleep in our bed. When I'd received that phone call two days after Shawn's visit, Jennie had bundled up four-month-old Buckley and come with me to identify my brother's remains. And when we got home again, Jennie had Buckley squirmingly sitting on her feet as she'd snuggled into me, held my hand, and wiped my cheeks while I read Shaw's suicide note because I couldn't make myself do it alone.

Jennie had made sure Buckley was well-cared for when I was grief-stricken and trying to arrange things so that my parents didn't have to deal with it from afar. She took care of me and I'd never felt so loved and supported as I did in those months. After she left I kept thinking about that time and wondering if it was real, why she would bother putting so much of herself into our relationship if she wasn't even invested enough to put us before her career.

Buckie finally stops his eruption of excitement and settles into dopey adoration mode, leaning against Jennie, stretching his head up to rub against her hip with a goofy doggo smile firmly in place. Jennie pauses her ear rubbing and glances up at me, a smile of her own spreading across her mouth. "Sorry. I guess I didn't realize 'til now just how much I missed him."

Missed my dog but not me. I clear my throat and force a smile of my own. "Looks like he missed you too. I'll just let him out back then give him something to eat. Make yourself comfortable and help yourself to anything." It feels weird to be telling someone I used to share the house with to act like she lives there.

Buckley is both busting to get out and also apparently really wants to get back in to see Jennie, because after bolting out the door he makes two super-quick stops in the yard then sprints inside, leaving me to clean up after him. Normally he'd want to play fetch or tug of war for a while, but apparently Jennie is more important than a game or spending time with me.