Chương 16
Lorenzo watched her.
“Is that a request?” he asked.
“No.”
The corner of his mouth moved.
“Then I accept.”
Ghost remained at the clinic for four days.
During that time, twenty-seven living dogs were identified through Dominic’s records. Twelve had microchips that could still be traced. Six had owners who had been searching for years. Others had been surrendered under false papers or taken from shelters through intermediaries.
Three owners refused to take their dogs back after hearing about aggression or medical costs.
Nina judged them harshly for several minutes, then remembered rent, fear, children, landlords, and the way people protected themselves from pain. She still judged them, but less cleanly.
The one-eyed pit bull from the kennel went to a foster home in Queens.
The German shepherd who had snapped at Nina belonged to a firefighter in Pennsylvania. He drove through the night to see her and sat on the clinic floor crying into her neck. The dog stared at him for a long time before placing one paw on his leg.
No one filmed that part.
Raul was charged with offenses related to the thefts and agreed to cooperate. His lawyer asked Nina to write a letter describing his remorse.
She declined.
Elena called every day.
Nina let the calls go to voicemail until the seventh day. Then she answered and listened.
Her mother apologized badly.
She explained too much. She blamed fear, money, Raul, the landlord, and the fact that Nina had been working so many hours. She returned several times to the five hundred dollars, as though the smaller portion reduced the betrayal.
Nina did not forgive her.
She also did not hang up.
They spoke for twelve minutes about an orthopedic appointment Elena had missed and a leak beneath the kitchen sink.
At the end, Elena asked, “Can I see him?”
“Not yet.”
“Will you let me someday?”
“I don’t know.”
Her mother began to cry.
Nina stared at the wall and allowed the silence to remain uncomfortable.
After Ghost came home, he refused to enter Nina’s apartment.
He stood in the hallway, staring at the narrow door and the dim rooms beyond it. The elevator opened behind them, making him spin and bark.
Nina sat on the floor beside the threshold.
Camila placed the old blue laundry basket in the living room and whispered, “Maybe this is poor timing.”
“Probably.”
Ghost panted.
Nina hummed.
He took one step inside, then another. His broad body nearly filled the entryway.
The apartment smelled of coffee, laundry detergent, and the chicken Camila had burned while trying to prepare a welcome meal.
Ghost sniffed the baseboards. He inspected the kitchen. He stared suspiciously at the refrigerator.
Then he saw the basket.
He backed into Nina.
Camila covered her mouth.
“Do not laugh,” Nina said.
“I am not.”
“You’re making the face.”
“What face?”
“The face before your bad laugh.”
Ghost approached the basket slowly.
Nina placed a piece of chicken beneath it.
He looked at her as if disappointed by the predictability.
Then he took the chicken and carried it to the rug.
That night, he slept across Nina’s bedroom doorway.
At two in the morning, she woke to the sound of his nails moving across the floor.
Ghost stood beside the bed, breathing hard.
She reached for him.
He flinched.
The movement cut deeper than any rejection at the penthouse.
Nina withdrew her hand.
“It’s okay,” she whispered.
He paced into the hall, then returned. His eyes looked past her at something that was not there.
Nina sat on the floor.
She hummed.
It took eleven repetitions before he approached. He pressed his head against her chest and remained there until dawn.
Recovery did not move in a straight line.
For several days, Ghost followed Nina everywhere. Then, without warning, he began waiting beside the apartment door at six each evening.
The first time, Nina assumed he needed a walk.
The second, she understood.
Six o’clock had been when Lorenzo returned home.
Ghost waited for him.
Nina sat beside the dog in the hallway.
“He’s not coming tonight,” she said.
Ghost stared at the door.
She felt jealousy so sharp it embarrassed her.
“I had you first.”
His ears moved at her voice.
She hated herself immediately.
Ghost had not chosen the theft, the training, the penthouse, or the years between them. Yet some childish part of Nina wanted those years erased. She wanted him to resume the life they had lost as if nobody else had fed him, protected him, or woken beneath the weight of his head.
She wanted to be the only person he needed.
The desire resembled Lorenzo more than she liked.
Nina called Molly Chen.
“I said something stupid to my dog,” she admitted.
“That places you among most dog owners.”
“I told him I had him first.”
“Did he file a complaint?”
“He looked at me.”
“Dogs do that.”
“What am I supposed to do when he waits for Lorenzo?”
“Let him wait.”
“That sounds cruel.”
“Trying to convince him he does not miss someone would be cruel.”
Nina looked at Ghost.
He remained beside the door.
“Can Lorenzo come tomorrow?” she asked.
“He can come today.”
Nina called Rocco.
Lorenzo arrived forty minutes later without guards visible in the hallway. He wore a charcoal coat over a dark sweater instead of a suit. Without the armor of tailoring, he looked more tired and less distant.
Ghost heard his footsteps before Nina did.
He ran to the door.
Nina opened it.
For one second, Lorenzo and Ghost stared at each other.
Then Ghost rose on his hind legs and placed both paws against Lorenzo’s chest.
The movement nearly knocked him backward.
Lorenzo buried his face in the dog’s neck.
Nina looked away.
There were some reunions a person did not earn the right to watch.
Camila appeared from the kitchen carrying a mug. “He sheds.”
Lorenzo lowered Ghost’s paws. “I know.”
“You have cream furniture.”
May you like
“I also have staff.”
Camila looked at Nina. “I dislike him again.”
