“You’re not joking,” I say.
“I’m not. Ask Erin. Do hers go to private or?—”
“It’s Demyan. Private.”
“Even so…schools matter. I’ll get a list of the best ones, the waiting lists, and everything else you need. You have to make sure you have it all locked down now.”
She sits back and sips her mimosa. “Speaking of Demyan, how did he react?”
I don’t say a thing.
Her eyes widen. “He doesn’t know, does he?”
I shake my head, guilt nibbling at me. “I’m still working up to that. Erin knows, but Demyan’s a different thing altogether.”
“Maybe this will bring him around,” Isla points out.
Maybe.
But maybe it’ll be the thing to drive the final wedge between us.
When lunch is over,Isla and Maize leave, and I reluctantly get in my car, already missing them. I ignore my bodyguard and let Gus know to drive by the shelter.
When we pull up, I get out and head in.
“I meant to come in earlier,” I say, noting the only person in the shelter is Eva.
There’s a dusty, neglected feeling here, like the building’s given up. I know she would never neglect the animals, but the feeling isn’t a physical thing I can see. Still, it tugs hard on my heart.
“I’m sorry I haven’t been around as much as I want to.”
“Don’t be silly,” Eva says, her smile strained but genuine.
“I feel bad. I wanted to help more than I have. And I still do.”
She touches my arm. “Alina, please, don’t be silly. I know you’ve been through a lot. And really, it means the world you’re here.”
She looks around.
“How’s Albert?” she asks.
“Good. Great.” I smile. “He’s at home with Ilya. He’s the best dog.”
“He’s very special.”
I rub my hands together. “So now that you know he’s safe and happy, what do you want me to do?”
Eva sags against the counter. “Nothing. There’s nothing to do. The negotiations I went into to try to renew the lease?—”
“You already said the landlord wouldn’t.”
“I know, but I thought if I could ask him to extend the current lease, or come at him with something big, an offer he couldn’t refuse, then… But it doesn’t matter. He said no. And he gave notice, making it official.”
My heart sinks. “We’ll find another place.”
“Where?” she asks. “This shelter’s done and is going to close. The worst-case scenario is some of the dogs won’t be taken in by other no-kill shelters. So many are struggling and at capacity already.”
The nausea that rocks through me isn’t from pregnancy but from what she’s saying.
