3. Lark

Chapter three

Lark

D id he just call me pretty while whispering to his sweet golden baby? The most gorgeous man on the planet, whose home games I used to attend every chance I got, just called me pretty. I was admittedly a tad shell-shocked when I stepped in the room, especially with how he was staring at me like he wanted to eat me, but now? Is it hot in here? I fight the urge to wave my hand like a fan to cool off. I’m burning up.

Back to business though. I’m sure I'll thoroughly dissect this entire encounter later. “I’d like to do an abdominal ultrasound on her to see if there’s any free fluid that might indicate bleeding from a bone fragment, and I’ll need to get some X-rays as well to better visualize it and determine what our next steps should be. I’d usually induce vomiting since it hasn’t been too long since she’s eaten, but being that she’s already looking sick, I don’t want to risk her puking up sharp fragments and causing more harm. Is it okay if I bring her back for those tests? ”

He gives me a nod before asking, “Can I actually carry her back? I’ll stay out of your way, but she just likes to be held, and I don’t want anyone breaking their back trying to lug around her hundred-pound bulk.” I can tell he’s worried, and aside from when he’s on the field, he doesn’t strike me as someone who gets in people’s way.

“Yeah, of course. You’ll just have to step out when we do the X-rays.” I lead him back to the room where we do all of our tests and get started setting up the ultrasound. A while later, we’ve done all the necessary tests, and we’ve discussed a treatment plan.

“So I’m going to give her a shot of an anti-nausea medication to calm her tummy. It treats nausea and should help her keep fluids down. Then I’m gonna give her a few pieces of white bread coated in a couple of capfuls of mineral oil. The white bread will form around the chicken bone, and the mineral oil will act as a lubricant and laxative in her gut, so not only will she get it out sooner, but it’ll prevent some of that friction as it comes out. That way, she doesn’t have to deal with any unnecessary discomfort. If she doesn’t pass it in the next forty-eight hours, or if she looks worse, which means if you see her drooling more, panting, acting lethargic, or anything abnormal for her, just call and head over.” I ensure he understands the plan and is okay with everything before giving her the shot.

“Alright, pretty girl, you should be feeling better soon, sweetie pie,” I say, speaking softly to her as I rub her ears. They’re really just the softest ears ever. “Call if you have any questions or concerns, okay?” I smile at them, turning to leave just as Gianni wraps his large, warm hand around my arm. His hand is so large it completely dwarfs me, nearly covering my entire forearm .

I turn back to face him. His eyes are bright despite the late hour, and he’s wearing the smallest of smiles, and yet, it lights his entire face up, his dimples making me sway a little. He looks down at his hand on my arm, shocked by his own behavior. He drops it, and the loss of warmth causes my body to quake as the chill of the room settles into my skin. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to grab you like that. I was just wondering if you’d like to go out with me,” he rushes, and the shock must be written all over my face as he continues. “On a date, I mean. I know that’s really forward.” His cheeks flame red, and he no longer meets my eyes as he continues rambling. “I never ask anyone out, but I’m afraid I won’t see you again, so I’m pushing myself to just take the leap,” he admits, and it makes me feel warm and fuzzy for a second before I squash that feeling.

I’m sure he doesn’t have any trouble getting dates, which is why he never has to ask. People probably flock to him, though the media has been less than kind to Gianni. They’re always picking apart his expressions, making comments about how sorrowful he is, and one reporter even described his eyes as “lifeless.” Looking at me right now, they look gentle and warm. Like a clear pool on a sunny summer day that I could float away from all of my problems in. But all the warm and gooey feelings I have burn to ash when I’m hit with a wave of nausea.

“I’m sorry, Gianni,” I say, my mouth dry as I piece together the right words. “I actually have a boyfriend, so I’ll have to decline, but it’s very sweet of you to ask. I hope you and Pickles get home safely.” This time, I successfully leave the room, and I immediately run into Betty, practically bouncing off her scrubs-clad back. Her eyes are wide, but she recovers quickly, grabbing hold of my arms and pulling me into one of the empty rooms .

“Lark, I know Valerie is your cousin, but you need to fire her once and for all,” she huffs out, hands on her hips in frustration.

I groan. “What’d she do now?” I ask, rolling my eyes. It’s always something with her. I really, really can’t stand her. She has a piss-poor attitude, and I’m not sure she even likes animals, but my dad helps fund this place, and his brother practically begged him to get her a job here.

“She was hitting on Mr. De Laurentiis and then made accusations about him having been the one to knowingly feed Pickles chicken bones,” she angry whispers, her hands flailing in front of her face as she speaks. “Valerie can’t seem to do her job, and she’s driving me up a damn wall.” She takes a deep breath. “I hate to do this to you, but it’s getting to where it’s me or her, honey. I can’t keep working with her.”

My heart sinks. She’s frustrated, and I understand, but Betty is one of my favorite people on the planet, and she’s the most hardworking employee I’ve got.

“Okay, I’ll figure it out. What do you think about maybe switching her position instead? She could scan paperwork, or I could even open up the office for bathing and tell her she’s in charge of cleaning all the kennels out. Maybe she’d just quit at that point.” This is something I’ve thought about before, but I agree, it’s time. She’s gotta go, and that’s not just my sudden surge of protectiveness over Gianni.

“You’ll figure it out,” she says, squeezing my shoulder reassuringly. “Maybe just speak with your dad. I think he’ll understand.” She seems so sure of that, and frankly, neither of us has any reason not to. My dad is the best.