5. Gianni

Chapter five

Gianni

Saturday, February 15, 2025

I wake up to a wet nose pressed against my cheek and a high-pitched whining sound. It takes me a moment to come out of my nightmare-induced daze, but finally, I realize it’s Pickles asking to go out.

God, what time is it? I reach for my cell phone and notice six missed texts from Kat and a voicemail from Alessandro.

I’m wracking my brain for any reason they’d be trying to get ahold of me when I suddenly remember that damn tricks-for-treats class Kat signed Pickles up for!

I hop out of bed, running around the apartment like a chicken with my head cut off. I change, brush my teeth, and splash some water on my face before leashing Pickles and running us downstairs to get in the car and drive to the address Kat sent me days ago .

Thankfully, Pickles does her business quickly before we head out.

For my sake, I fully plan to delete that voicemail without bothering to listen to it. My brother is the kindest man in the world, but he can turn into an absolute creature from the dark lagoon where Kat’s concerned. I have no interest in having my ass reamed out for disappointing her.

Luckily, I haven’t missed the class yet, but I’m cutting it close. I swear, if this were for anyone else, and if Ale wouldn’t kick my ass for it, I wouldn’t be out of my house yet. Hell, I wouldn’t even be awake, let alone dressed.

Kat was right though; this place was really close. It’s only a three-minute drive, so I honestly could have walked had I known beforehand. I’ll try to remember that for next time.

I pull up to a small white building with a blue-and-purple sign out front that reads, “Rocket Dog.”

Well, we must be in the right place.

I park and turn off the engine, run around to the trunk, and grab Pickles before sprinting with her to the front door of the facility, where I now see Kat’s glossy eyes and pink cheeks standing with Tank’s elderly self. He really is an ancient dog, and I’m not sure the shock will ever wear off from how far he’s come. When Ale first adopted him, it was a surprise that he liked him at all. He was told that Tank was hesitant and not a fan of men. We think he may have been abused by a previous male owner in the past.

Ale and Kat have shown him so much care and attention, being sure to socialize him constantly. I guess a little love and attention really go a long way, even with an old, broken, and battered guy like Tank .

When she sees me, her eyes light up, and a grin spreads across her pretty face. Tank’s ears perk, and Pickles nearly drags me to the door, beelining straight for her favorite friend.

“Good morning, Gi! I’m so glad you made it.” She’s beaming at me, so I return the smile, if not a little less enthusiastically.

My chin dips to my chest, and my throat feels thick. “Sorry, Kat. I forgot to set an alarm. I’ll be earlier next time,” I promise her, even though I shouldn’t.

“Don’t worry about it.” She waves a dismissive hand. “You’re here now. Class doesn’t start for a couple of minutes, so let’s just head in and get them set up,” she tells me, easing some of my anxiety before it ratchets up again when I realize we’re going to be in a large open space, chairs turned inward. I know it’s so we can all watch each dog as they complete whatever tasks they’re going to be taught today, but it adds a bit of pressure that I don’t look forward to. I’ll get over it. I have on the field, and I will here too. Kat says this is low stakes, so I’ll try to treat it as such.

“Come on, let’s sit over here.” She guides us to two plastic folding chairs toward the back of the room, and she lays out a blanket on either side of the chairs. I glance around the room, and I’m instantly filled with the familiar low hum of dread. Everyone in here has blankets and dog beds for their canine companions to sit on, and I didn’t even think about it. Not only did I not consider this or even ask Kat what I needed, but she just assumed I wouldn’t and brought it herself. I feel bile begin to climb up my throat, remorse and self-loathing not far behind.

“Gi, take a seat.” She smiles at me nervously, realizing I’m having an internal freak-out. Kat has dealt with more than her fair share of mental illness in her life, and I think it’s why we get along so well. Same recognizes same. She sees the broken mess that I am and aims to calm me down. Meanwhile, I act as a buffer for her, always one notch more sad and broken than she ever showed anyone, so the attention stays off her and on me. I hate it, but I can’t change it, and she deserves happiness, so it’s a weight I’ll bear.

I take a seat next to her, and Pickles immediately lies down on the baby-pink Sherpa blanket Kat brought her.

I pat her head, giving her scratches behind her ears, and focus on how soft her fur is beneath my fingertips until class starts. Moments after the instructor introduces herself to the class, the doors burst open, and a black-and-white Great Dane sprints across the linoleum floors to greet everyone as a flash of red hair is tugged behind him.

“Tiny, calm down!”

My eyes widen at the realization of who it is. I’d recognize those glossy red waves just about anywhere, and somehow, it comes as no surprise that she’s the one being dragged behind that bulldozer of a dog.

“Hi, everyone. So sorry I’m late!” Dr. Hughes pants, keeled over with her hands on her knees, trying to suck in a breath. “I had to see a kitten with a hairball,” she says with a chuckle, her face a bright pink, and somehow, she still looks gorgeous. “Yeah, I know, literally a hairball!” she exclaims loudly and out of breath. She turns around, greeting each owner and their dog, which seems on brand for her given her occupation. She must come here regularly, and that knowledge has my gut twisting in knots. 1

Her eyes continue sweeping over the room, looking for an empty seat. She looks past me, but I recognize the exact moment my face registers in her mind because her eyes widen, returning to mine, and her mouth just barely pops open in surprise. It only takes her a moment to collect herself before she greets me with a tight smile. “Mr. De Laurentiis, I’m glad to see Pickles is doing better!” she tells me without pretense, sounding genuine.

Of course, the one time I get up the nerve to ask someone out, convinced that Alex would’ve pushed me to do it, it backfires. At least she doesn’t seem to feel too awkward around me, which helps settle my restless thoughts the smallest bit.

I smile at her, my ears heating, and an unfamiliar thump reverberating in my chest. “Good morning, Dr. Hughes. I’m glad to see I’m not the only one who’s late.” I keep the smile on my face as hers falls a bit. I didn’t mean to sound like a dick. That was my failed attempt at flirting with her. Emphasis on failed. Again, she catches herself quickly, returning my smile and taking her seat.

And for good reason, I remind myself. She has a boyfriend, you idiot.

Kat nudges my knee with her own, drawing my attention to her. She leans over to me to whisper in my ear, “Who was that?” Her eyebrows raise, and a knowing grin adds to my discomfort. I don’t like how she reads the situation so well. For someone oblivious enough to not know her twin brother and her best friend had been madly in love for years, she has her moments of enlightenment.

“She’s the veterinarian I brought Pickles to the other day when she ate the chicken bone on our walk.” She wears a mask of obvious disappointment that reflects how I felt when she told me she was in a relationship. I’ve thought about that every day, hoping on one hand that it’s true and not just her way of saying she’s uninterested. Then, on the other hand, I sort of wish it wasn’t true so I could somehow convince myself I might still have a shot at wooing her if I were ever to get my head out of my ass and find some piece of my personality that isn’t a complete fucking dumpster fire. Who the hell are you kidding, Gi? You aren’t capable of wooing anyone.

The class starts, and thankfully, it goes by pretty quickly. The trainer has a fluffy, overly hyper Australian shepherd with bright-blue eyes, which she calls her “demo dog.” Before we practice a trick, she uses the demo dog named Pixie to demonstrate the trick and how to get our own dogs to replicate them.

We all take turns teaching our dogs a series of tricks that we need to complete for the novice tricks certificate. I have no desire to file that paperwork, but watching Pickles crawl under a pool noodle or a balance beam, search for treats in boxes, and walk across a wooden beam is worth the time this class took from my day. It’s hard to get out of bed most days, but I haven’t felt this unfamiliar happiness in months. My chest feels warm as I work with Pickles, giving her entirely too many treats as slobber pools out of her wide mouth.

That same sort of low-level joy ratchets up when I look over to see Lark’s small frame wrestling with her massive dog. I learned that she ironically named her dog “Tiny.” I steal glances at her, noting her fur-covered scrubs with purple and pink cartoon dogs and cats on them and a bit of mascara smeared under her eyes. She must have come here straight from work, and it pulls at something in my chest that she probably hasn’t slept.

When class is over, I wave at her retreating form, watching as she stops by the front to speak with the trainer .

Kat bounces on the balls of her feet, pulling me out of my thoughts. “That was fun, wasn’t it?” she asks.

“Yeah,” I say with a nod, doing my best to keep my voice light. “It actually was.” I cough into my fist, trying to cover the croak that just left my throat. “It looked like Tank and Pickles were thrilled too. Same time next week, then?” I ask her because now, more than ever, I’m almost excited about coming to this class. Truly, it’s for selfish reasons, most of which include the first feelings of anything besides pure dread or numbness that seeing Dr. Hughes elicits in me.

I walk her out to her car, helping Tank in the backseat before giving Kat a tight hug and a kiss on either cheek.

1. Out of My League – Fitz and The Tantrums