The next day, I scroll slowly through another page of rescue dogs, trying my best to focus on the floofy Alaskan malamute or the stocky bulldog, but Marley’s arm resting up against mine is all I can think about.
That and the fact that we’re shoulder to shoulder in my tiny hospital bed, her face literally inches from mine. I force the thought out of my head.
We’re taking things slow. Pull it together, Lafferty.
I stop my scrolling, pointing to a silver Yorkie rescue.
Marley sits up and grabs the iPad, her eyes widening as she flips through the photos. “Oh my God. It’s her. It’s Georgia!”
And sure enough, it is her. Down to the markings on her paws. “You like her?” I ask, looking over her shoulder at the page.
“Oh.” She stops, leaning back, deflating like a balloon. I catch sight of a red box in the corner of the photo. ADOPTED. “Someone already got her.”
“Oh well,” I say, shrugging at the letdown. “Maybe she’ll go to a good home.”
Marley rolls her eyes at me, just like she would have before, and… it feels like we were never apart. Suddenly the electricity crackles between us, exactly how I remember. I can feel the both of us leaning forward ever so slightly.
She hesitates, tentatively reaching up to brush my hair back, lightly touching my scar, her fingertips gentle as they linger on my cheek, my mouth, tracing my lips, her touch familiar and new all at the same time.
I hold my breath as she leans farther in, our lips almost touching, when the door swings wide open.
“Oh shit, sorry,” Kim says from the doorway.
Marley and I quickly jump apart. “Early,” I say, letting out a groan. “You’re early.”
I look from Kim to Marley, her alarmed gaze turning to shock when she sees what Kim’s holding. The silver Yorkie from the animal rescue website is cradled in Kim’s arms. The second the pup sees Marley, she starts yipping like crazy.
She looks just like her picture, only cuter, a tiny yellow bow tied around her neck.
I’d spent the entire afternoon trying to get it just right before Kim nudged me out of the way, declaring she hadn’t done cheerleading for ten years to stand by when somebody butchers a bow.
“Oh man, I ruined it, didn’t I? Shit. I’m so sorry,” Kim says as she quickly closes the door before we can get in trouble, the puppy letting out a tiny bark. “Hey, Marley, I’m—”
“Georgia,” Marley whispers.
“Well, okay. Yeah,” Kim says, taken aback. She pauses, squinting as she fully processes that’s not her name. “I mean—no…”
I roll my eyes, shaking my head at her. In all the years I’ve known her, I’ve never seen her so nervous.
It’s kind of sweet, to be honest.
I smile and motion to the dog, and she comes to, collecting herself.
She turns to look at Marley, taking her in. “I’m Kimberly,” she says, clarifying that her name is not, in fact, Georgia.
Marley smiles shyly, pushing her hair behind her ear. “I know.” She looks between the two of us anxiously.
And Kim, still not knowing what to do, looks back over at me. So I point to the Yorkie puppy, loudly whispering, “Give it to her.”
“Oh, right! Yeah.” She holds up the dog. “She’s for you.”
Marley looks over at me, her hazel eyes filled with wonder.
Kim puts Georgia down on the bed, the tiny puppy clamoring over Marley’s legs to get to her. Marley sniffs, wiping away a tear.
“Oh man,” Kim says, super bummed. “That was a terrible surprise. I really botched it. I’m so sorry—”
Suddenly Marley’s hand reaches past me, taking Kim’s. “It’s perfect,” she says as Georgia tumbles into her lap, all wiggles and puppy kisses. “Thank you.”
Kim lets out a long sigh, finally relaxing. She smiles and looks down at Marley’s hand in hers. “I’m happy to finally meet you.”
“I’m happy… that you’re alive,” Marley says awkwardly.
There’s a long beat, and then Kim and I absolutely lose it, tears streaming down our faces as we laugh. Bashful, Marley joins in after a pause, and little Georgia, not wanting to be left out, lets out a “Yip!”
I wrap my arms around Marley, so in love. I’m not ever going to let her go again.
Suddenly there’s a knock at the door, and we all look up to see my mom and Sam, frozen in the doorway, both with absolutely no idea what they just walked in on.
I feel Marley fidget, pulling away from me, her eyes wary. This is a lot of people, all at one time. She starts to stand up, but I put a hand lightly on her arm, calming her.
“It’s okay,” I whisper. Her eyes meet mine, the tension slowly ebbing. She settles down and looks over at my mom and Sam, but stays quiet.
“Mom, Sam,” I say, a thousand-watt grin on my face. “Meet Marley.”
You’d think I just told them exactly what goes down in Area 51. They stand there, staring, for ten whole seconds. Then my mom squeals, running to the bed.
I hold out my arms, trying to stop her, but it’s no use. She throws her arms around Marley, who looks helplessly over at me, then at Kim, who shrugs in a way that says, Deal with it, girl.
Then, unexpectedly, Marley’s arms wrap around her, too.
I look over at Sam, still collecting himself in the doorway. He ruefully shakes his head at me, giving me one of his lopsided smiles. “You really are the luckiest son of a bitch—”
“Sam!” my mom says, pulling away from Marley to scold him.
He flinches. “Sorry, Mrs. L.”
My mom stares him down for a long moment, then… Marley begins to laugh. It’s infectious, working its way around the room until we’re all doubled over, a new memory forming, real and wonderful.
42
Early the next morning, I look through my phone at the pictures I took yesterday. Georgia being cute as hell, running around all of us in the courtyard. Sam and Kim laughing as they sit at the edge of the fountain. And finally a picture of just Marley, the only one I have. A yellow rose is tucked behind her ear, little Georgia snoozing in her lap.