Once and for All(36)

He dropped my hand. “I want mac and cheese,” he announced as he started over to her.

My mom, smiling calmly at the onlooking table as she passed them, said to me, “What happened? If we’d had to call the police I never would have lived it down. Can you imagine?”

“He just wandered out this door,” I said, pulling it shut behind me so she wouldn’t see the dog. “Next time we’ll know to keep an eye on it if there are kids here.”

“Next time I’ll keep the ring bearer on a leash,” she grumbled, then looked at her phone. “William is reporting everyone’s going rogue at the buffet. He needs muscle.”

“I’m on it,” I said.

“No, you found the lost child.” She squared her shoulders, readjusting the diamond pendant she always wore to the center of her neck. “Take five minutes. Then go find the caterer to talk cake cutting.”

“Okay.”

She squeezed my arm, then started over to the buffet line, which had indeed become snaky and fidgeting in our absence. I opened the door again, slipping out into the loading bay. Ambrose was crouched down in front of the dog, scratching his ears. “Who’s a hero? That’s right, you are! Good boy!”

I could see a cloud of wiry hair coming off the dog, rising into the light behind him. “I thought you and I just saved the day.”

He glanced back at me. “Because Ira here told us where to look. You heard that bark! It was like breadcrumbs through the forest.”

Of course it was. “You’re calling him Ira now?”

“It’s his name.” He was still scratching, the cloud of hair growing wider. How could a dog shed so much and not be bald? “That was his way of telling us.”

“The barking,” I said, clarifying.

“Yep.”

“Ira!” I called out. The dog didn’t even look at me, much less bark. I looked at Ambrose.

“Do you always answer to your name?” he asked.

I sighed. Even without the drama of a lost child, this wedding felt longer than others. “I have to go deal with the cake. Are you coming?”

I started back around the building, having decided to take the long way for some extra fresh air. A moment later, he fell into step beside me, brushing his hands against each other. “I have to hand it to you. This job is harder than it looks.”

“What did it look like?”

“Standing around while being bossy,” he replied. I raised my eyebrows. “Louna. You literally dragged me into my mother’s ceremony by one arm.”

“You were holding up the schedule,” I replied, hating how prim I sounded.

“My point is, there’s a lot behind the scenes the layman or guest would never know about. Like a secret world.”

I rolled my eyes. “You make it sound magical.”

“You don’t think it is?”

“I think it’s work,” I replied.

“Magical work.” He laughed at the face I made, hearing this, then added, “You know, you can act the part all you want. But my take on you is you’re not as cynical as you make yourself out to be.”

“You have a take on me now?”

“I have a take on everyone. I’m an observer, a witness.”

“Usually those people listen more than they talk,” I pointed out.

“Maybe.” He slipped his hands into his pockets, shaking that curl out of his eyes. “My point is, I’ve been around you a lot the last few days and I’ve seen things.”

“Well,” I said. “That doesn’t sound ominous at all.”

“A cynic,” he continued, ignoring this, “would not have looked as relieved as you did when we found Ira. Also, a cynic would have made sure the boss knew whose dog caused the lost child to wander off in the first place. You, instead, covered for me and Ira, the dog.”

“I think you’re confusing a cynic with an asshole,” I told him.

“Maybe. But I saw how you reacted, both times. You’re not that hardened yet, even if you prefer to think otherwise.”

A car drove around us, the bass thumping. I said, “The key word is yet.”

“It is,” he agreed. “Because you still have a choice in the matter.”

“Or it’s only a matter of time,” I countered.

“Okay, now you sound like a cynic.” He tipped his head back, looking up at the stars overhead. “But you’re not fooling me. I know what I saw.”

To this I said nothing. What was the point? It wasn’t like I was proud of my hard little rock of a heart. Everyone’s life shapes them in their own unique way. No one could really understand how the events of the last year, highs and lows, had honed me into what I now was, sharper in places, more calloused in others. And of course I’d been worried about a lost child. I wasn’t a monster. Yet.

We were back at the front doors to the club now, where a large party was exiting the reception, cigars in hand. As we approached, two men, suits rumpled and cheeks rosy, opened a door for us at the same time. In reply, Ambrose spread his arms, clearly loving an entrance. Before he stepped in, though, he turned his head, cupping a hand to his mouth.

“Ira!” he called out. Of course, the dog barked.