“No. To see the mustangs. I had to make a lot of phone calls, but I found a guy who was willing to take us that far north. Turns out it’s a long way from here. But Bailey, I was thinking. There have to be horses that need rescuing at home. We could get some land, north of the city, maybe a farm. Elias might know someone. What do you think?”
I snuggle in closer. “Whatever you want to do, I’m with you.” Time for sleep. I’m done fighting. Regardless of what the future holds for us—and it will no doubt feature a menagerie of horses, lizards, snakes and turtles, along with special appearances by lost chihuahuas, the occasional emu, and maybe a few orchids that people don’t want anymore—I’m confident Gordo knows what we’re doing. He may be a man of few words, but he is a man with a plan. I can trust in that.
Epilogue
A hairless dog is not the weirdest thing I’ve seen this week. And no, before you ask, it’s not intentionally hairless. Not one of those designer dogs with the floofy feet and wispy ears. Maggie the pug-corgi cross has definitely seen better days, if the crusty scabs the mange has left on her poor skinny body are any indication.
I understand now why Gordo doesn’t bother with nice clothes. A python is far less likely to puke on you than a puppy, but when you’re cleaning up after animals all day, dry-clean only becomes a thing of the past.
“Come on, pretty girl,” I say, scooping her up. “Let’s get you clean.”
I’m getting good at these medicated baths. Maggie’s been here on the farm with us for the last week, and I admit she was in such rough shape that I could barely bring myself to look at her when she arrived. Now I want to kiss her smooshy face and tell her she’s going to make the other dogs so jealous when her hairs all grow back in. She’s got the best eyes ever. Dark brown like chocolate, and when they stare up at me, I can see so much gratitude and love.
A door opens down the hall, followed by the stomping of boots, no doubt to knock the snow off.
“Bailey?” Gordo calls.
“Back here.” My answer is almost drowned out by the chorus of barking dogs that greet Gordo. We have twelve dogs staying with us right now. Most of them have free run of the house because Gordo says they need to be socialized. Maggie, we’re keeping separate until her skin starts to improve. I think the isolation is harder on me than it is on her, but when I suggest I could wrap her up in one of those baby carriers and take her everywhere with me, Gordo said it was a dog, and if I wanted a baby, we should talk.
I’m pretty sure he was joking about that last part. I’m still learning Gordo’s sense of humour, but his beard does this little wiggle when he’s trying not to laugh, and it definitely wiggled when he said the b-word.
I do not want a baby. My life has already gone through enough upheaval. Plus, who the hell is going to take care of a baby on top of the dozen dogs, four houses, six snakes, fifteen lizards, and however many turtles we’re up to this week?
The day Jake the Jerk stood at the head of the conference table and told us our jobs were all safe, I could not have seen this coming.
Gordo and I bought the farm in the fall. And I mean we bought the farm. It’s surprising how much money you can get for selling a two-plus bedroom condo downtown and how far that money will go as soon as you leave the city limits. Gordo offered to finance the whole thing himself, but I wanted to know it was ours from the outset, so we split the cost of the property, and I’ve done my best to contribute as we fixed up the place.
Not that it’s a real farm. Or not all of a farm. Pretty sure some farmer got talked into selling his land to a developer who sees the creeping market for mega homes up here, but he kept forty-some acres for himself for a few more years, before eventually selling that to us. Fortunately, we don’t want a mega home. Or at least, not like the cookie-cutter mansions going in down the street. The old farmhouse was perfect . . . with a few additions.
I know the locals talk about us. The two gay guys who bought the old property, fixed up the barn, and turned it into an animal sanctuary. The wiring Gordo had to have done so he could run heating lamps for all the reptiles alone definitely started more than a few rumours that we were setting up a grow op. But it’s Canada. Even if that was what we were doing, we don’t need to be sneaky about stuff like that. Gordo’s cupcakes are very popular when we have the neighbours over.
And I’ve heard Gordo chatting with people in the little café whenever we run into town for supplies. I know he’s tried to explain pansexuality and demisexuality to them. A few even get it. The guy who runs the coffee shop is bi. We’re going to try to introduce him to Elias, who is coming to visit next month.
“Hey, pretty girl,” Gordo says.
“Hi yourself,” I say, then laugh when I realize he’s talking to Maggie. She wiggles her whole body as he brushes a hand over her head. Every animal we’ve brought here over the last few months loves him. I don’t know what it is.
Or maybe I do. Gordo’s always exuded this calm steadiness. I react to it as much as the dogs and horses and bearded dragons do. I always have, I just didn’t understand why. Everyone wants to love Gordo, and for him to love them, from the minute he walks into your life. And I happen to be the lucky sonofabitch who gets to do it every day.
The thing is, except when I have to get up at three in the morning to bottle feed a litter of abandoned puppies, I don’t miss my old life at all. I thought I’d miss the excitement, the thrill of working those connections, of building relationships with prospects so they trust you and keep coming back. But only a handful of them reached out when I left BGS&M, and none have been in touch again, even when I invited them to our adoption open house.
Turns out my old life was seriously lonely. Without Gordo in it, I probably would have started sleeping at the office ages before Jake the Jerk ever showed up on the scene.
I wish I could say I never heard about Jake again after Vegas. But since Gordo and Elias are pretty much BFFs now, I’d basically have to permanently stick my head in the puppy pile to make that true. The good news is the end of Jake’s time at the company happened before he and Elias even made it on their plane. My resignation letter was short and to the point, and I don’t know if Ed meant to cc me on his reply or not, but it was succinct.
Jack, clean out your desk tomorrow.
Elias’s departure from Team Jake was a done deal by the time they landed.
And I shouldn’t revel in someone else’s downfall, but come on. It’s Jake the Jerk. He outed me and never once apologized for it, then thought he could ride my coattails back into Ed’s good graces. He was never going to list me as a reference as he tries to rebuild his career, so it’s okay if I dance around the rubble.
“I think she’s rinsed,” Gordo says in my ear. I glance down, and Maggie is shivering in the sink as I let warm water pour over her skin.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. Sorry, pretty good girl. You’re such a good patient girl. I’m so sorry.” I babble as I lift her out and dry her off. She’s so quiet and patient. I can’t wait to see if she comes out of her shell as she gets better and learns to trust us more, or if she’s always going to be this sweet, stoic girl. I have a feeling Maggie will be a foster fail and stay with us permanently, but I haven’t told Gordo yet.