Chapter One
Daily Dose of Gratitude: Today, I am grateful for my rose tea latte, which is keeping me warm on this chilly spring morning. I’m very grateful I am working on a celebrity photo shoot for Feathers to Paws, the animal rescue group and welfare organization I work for. This calendar is with the Washington Soaring Eagles baseball team, and I know it will be a hit with the fans. Hit. Nice baseball pun, if I do say so myself.
I put down my pen and take another sip of my latte. I’m sitting at a high stool at the window, watching the commuters of Alexandria hurry by to get to work, with a lot of them headed into Washington, DC. This morning is a luxury for me, being able to stop and get my favorite drink in the whole world and spend the morning in contemplation. Usually, I’m in the office by eight-thirty sharp, but because our photo shoot is at Soaring Eagles Park, where the team plays, I don’t have to be on-site until nine.
I watch as the wind blows a woman’s skirt up, causing her to put her hand on it quickly and hold it down as she walks. Then a guy in a suit moves briskly past the window, talking on his phone as he does.
I wonder if they are going to jobs they love. Are they excited to go to work? Passionate about what they do?
I should be in that situation. I finally landed a job as a marketing and social media coordinator for Feathers to Paws, and it’s been my dream from the moment I entered college to find a career working with animals.
Of course, dream number one was to be a vet, but since I’m crap with math and science, that kind of eliminated that.
But I am good with words, so I studied communication. Got my first job in DC doing fundraising for a nonprofit. And now, after two years of trying to do anything with animals, I landed the job with Feathers to Paws.
I pause and take another sip of my tea, relishing the delicate flavor of rosewater that has been added to the Earl Grey, resulting in a wonderfully fragrant latte. I’m working with animals, and that is what matters. There’s room for me to climb, either here or with another organization.
I’m eternally grateful for that.
So why do I not feel as elated as I should?
Guilt eats at me the second the thought crosses my mind. I should be over-the-moon delirious about this job, shouldn’t I?
But somehow, I’m not.
I don’t feel the happiness I thought I would.
And I don’t know why.
“You look so deep in thought.”
I blink. A twenty-something guy in a suit takes a seat next to me.
Oh no. Is this flirting? What do I do? Do I want to do anything? Does he know when I hop off this stool, I’ll be a fun-sized human that is only five feet tall?
“Um, yeah, I was contemplating,” I admit, taking a moment to study him. He’s a regular man, nice navy suit, white shirt, striped tie.
Very DC, I muse.
“I’m Ian,” he says, smiling at me.
“Addison,” I say, smiling back.
“Were you contemplating thoughts of the world?” he asks, taking a sip of his coffee. His eyes move over to my journal. I furrow my brow as his brown eyes shift to the page. To my shock, he leans in closer to me, his arm brushing against mine, and he reads it.
Reads it!
I snap my journal closed, and he shifts his gaze to meet mine.
“You’re grateful for a cup of tea?” he asks, screwing up his face.
I see he has long nose hairs that need to be trimmed and feel victory in this moment.
“You read other people’s journals without an invitation?” I retort.
He says nothing. I can’t stop staring at his nose. Lord, he could braid those nose hairs, eww.
He smirks. “It was open.”
“You’re the type that walks up to someone’s desk and tries to read their computer screen, aren’t you?” I ask as I toss my notebook into my tote bag.
“Typical redhead. Feisty.”
Irritation flares within me. Oh, yes, please tell me every stereotypical thing you’ve ever heard about redheads because nothing charms me more than being told I’m a firecracker ginger.
I pick up my cup and sling my bag over my shoulder. He blinks in surprise.
“Have a lovely day,” I say, smiling at him. “I’m going to go find another spot where my privacy is respected.”
He rolls his eyes. I want to throw a pair of nose hair clippers at him but, instead, I leave.
I push open the door and decide to head to the ballpark early. As I walk down the street in Alexandria, heading back to my apartment to get my car, I pick up my phone and call Hayley Jensen, one of my very best friends in DC.
She answers on the second ring. “Hey, Addison!”
“I’m done,” I say as the wind blows my long red hair right into my lipstick. Crap, now it will smear all over my face, and of course, it’s a vibrant shade of bright coral. It will look lovely against my porcelain skin. Probably a splatter effect, like a Jackson Pollock painting.
“With?” Hayley prompts.
“I am done with men. I did the online dating app that you and Katie suggested and got nothing but losers.”
I pause for a moment, my memory kicking in. Back in December, I did meet someone special off that app. Ryan didn’t seem to be a loser at first. He was sweet and wonderful and bright and made me feel, for the first time in years, special.
And after three blissful weeks of dating—and my one weekend busy with stuff for Hayley and Brody’s wedding—he started dodging me and said he liked me too much and wanted to focus on grad school again. The only man I had liked after my high school love, and he disappeared.
Until I found out that Ryan had updated and reloaded his dating profile.
While I’m over that hurt, I can’t say I trust any man at this point.
Mr. Nose Hairs proves why. I mean, reading my journal?
I clear my throat. “Just now, I had a guy hit on me in the coffee shop who actually read my private journal, and he had overgrown nose hairs, and I’m just done.”
Hayley bursts out laughing. “This is the first time in my life I’ve heard the words overgrown nose hairs in conversation.”
“Go ahead and laugh. You didn’t have to look at him.” I march along the cobblestone street. “Not only did he read my thoughts, but he also commented on them! Brody would never do that,” I say, referring to her husband.
“No, he wouldn’t.”
“And Brody is smart and funny and gorgeous,” I tick off. “Sincere. Genuine. Loves animals, too. I have yet to find this elusive combination.”
“Do I need to remind you I met him in a coffee shop? Maybe Mr. Nose Hairs has potential,” she teases.
“Yes, if I buy him a pair of clippers and teach him the basic rules of personal space and respecting another human’s right to privacy.”
“Okay, not him, but there might be another awesome guy there.”
“I didn’t hang around to find out. I’m going to the ballpark early,” I say. “Besides, if I get there early, I can play with the animals.”
My mood brightens at the thought. Animals are so forgiving of who you are. They don’t care what you look like or what you do for a living. They are open to receiving affection and love and give it back. I love nothing more than being hands-on with the animals we rescue.