He cut me off with an impatient sound. "Save it. Your problem. I'm getting a drink." He paused, pointing a finger at me. "And you're fired."
He left, and I hinged an incredulous look down at the tiny lamb that had a blue bow around its neck and shivered like it was cold. The lamb sniffed its nose up to me. It had a thick coat of curly, white fleece that reminded me of a doodle dog, and its little black nose glistened as its nostrils flared. I bent around it to get a better look at its body, and with a guffaw of derision, I realized it had a diaper fitted over its rear end. It bleated again, and that time, it sounded so pitiful, I really had no choice but to gingerly put my hands around it and pick it up off my desk. Its stubby tail wagged, and I juggled its awkward, spindly limbs as I looked around my office for help. Like I was going to find assistance with an abandoned barnyard animal dropped in my city office.
The lamb's fur looked softer than it felt, but I cradled its bristly body in my arms with a reluctant glance down at the baby. It sniffed me again, and then it licked my hair, which I had up in my half-up space buns. "Oh boy," I whisper-screeched. What did one do with homeless lambs?
I checked the time on my phone, and seeing that it was 4:30 anyway, I decided this was probably a good time to call it a day. I gathered my purse and coat with one hand, balancing the snuffling lamb in the other. It was surprisingly natural to hold him. He snuggled into me easily, resting his head against my shoulder and closing his eyes contentedly.Fuck me,I thought, trying to sneak him out of the building before anyone saw me with livestock in our building.I'm not actually getting attached to this thing, am I?
I tucked him under my coat, fast-walking down the hallways to the elevator. Our receptionist, Olivia, gave me a funny look, and my coat definitely bleated, but I just gave her a manic smile before slipping out of the office. As I rode the elevator down, I juggled the lamb again to fish my phone out of my coat pocket. I dialed Ruth, and she answered right as the elevator doors opened.
"Gem," she said breathlessly. "Hey."
I pulled a face. "Are you fucking your boyfriend right now?"
"No!" I heard shuffling and a distinctly male laugh before she puffed out, "No. What's up?"
I rolled my eyes, giving the foyer a covert look around before I went to the double glass door exit. "How's New York?"
"Fascinating," she admitted, her voice lowering and losing its breathless quality. "Tempting."
NYU had offered her a position as a professor, and I had kind of hoped that she would find New York dismal. Apparently, their visit was going well. I mentally set that aside and said, "Great. How do you take care of a lamb?"
A heavy beat of silence preceded Ruth's "Huh?"
"Like, what do they eat? Oats? Or hay? Or, fuck… do the babies need milk?" I looked around for where I'd parked my car because suddenly, my working memory had been reduced to… lamb.
"Gemma, I study dusty manuscripts and, most recently, make poor attempts at matchmaking. I know nothing about cattle. Andwhydo you need to know?" She got her stern, smarty-pants voice as she asked, "What did you get into?"
"It's not so much what I got into—" the lamb bleated pitifully, probably looking for its mother, "—but what got shoved at me."
"You alreadyhavea lamb?" she clarified with clear censure. "Gems, what are you doing out there?"
"Surviving," I huffed, carting the surprisingly heavy thing to my car. "Barely. Look, Google it for me and text me, yeah? I think there are… farm stores…"
"Oh my God."
It turned out that they made powdered milk for lambs, and if the supercenter was large enough and close to ranches—which ours was—then it carried powdered lamb's milk. I definitely got a few side-eye glances carting my lamb through the pet aisle and then to the baby aisle, but my instincts were kicking in with the thing. It kept crying, and then shivering, and then when I put it down on the floor so I could use two hands to reach a baby carrier on the top shelf of an aisle, it tried to chew on a pumpkin nearby.
I ended up sticking it in a cart, swathed it in the wrap-style carrier I planned to buy, and then threw a bunch of diapers, bottles, a baby gate, puppy pads, and lamb's milk replacer into the basket with it. It sniffed the air as I stopped by the coffee section to replenish my creamer. Actually, swaddled up, it wasn't a bad shopping companion.
Pumpkin-eater fell asleep as I went through the checkout lane, and I did some research on lamb care while I waited for my turn with the cashier. Objectively, hanging onto this thing was a terrible idea. But it was Friday night, so what else could I do? I decided to research animal rescue operations after I got Pumpkin settled at home.
I thought about calling Rook. I had his number, finally, and only because he insisted on sharing contact information in case something happened with the apartment. Technically, something had happened with the apartment tonight.
It was a petting zoo.
But then I figured if he was elbow-deep in operating on some poor woman's uterus, it would be unfair to her if I distracted the surgeon by telling him a sheep had been adopted in his house. And, I reasoned, it wasn't like telling him would change the outcome. It wasn't like I could throw Pumpkin outside and let her fend for herself.
Still, when the elevator hummed to our floor, I found myself tensing like a spring-loaded trap. I had Pumpkin wrapped up in the baby wrap and attached to my chest, and there was powdered lamb's formula scattered all over the counter and in the sink from a few failed initial attempts at understanding how baby bottles worked. He shuffled into the foyer area, and like he always did, he swiveled his gaze, looking for me. When his eyes landed on me, I froze with the bottle held up. The lamb bleated, reaching for it.
I hadn't ever seen Rook look so disheveled. His tie had been loosened and his hair mussed like he'd run his fingers through it too many times. And he had a dazed look on his face that screamed, "I just had the worst day ever."
And here I was, making it better.
Knox opened his mouth, expelling a wisp of incredulous breath. I waved weakly. "Hey. Welcome home." Pumpkinsnuffled at the bottle, so I obliged her and stuck it in her mouth. She guzzled it sloppily, flapping her lips all over the bottle and suckling noisily. Some of it soaked my shirt, but I had learned after the first time that she was a messy eater, so I had put on a paint-stained shirt already.
"What—" Knox managed to get out. He'd been undoing the buttons on his black wool jacket, but he paused, standing there with the other arm limp at his side and his features stricken with horror.
"Okay, before you freak out," I rushed to assure him, walking away from the mess behind me. "This wasnotmy fault."
