door when I knocked. I paused when I heard it, whatever the hell it was, and convinced myself it had to be the TV. Some sort of documentary.
But then I heard, “Shh! You’re going to get me in trouble.” That was undoubtedly Della’s voice, which wasn’t as quiet as I bet she’d hoped. It made a grin tug at the corners of my lips, but as soon as a door closed inside, I wiped it away in time for the front one to open.
Della peeked her head through the slit and straightened as soon as she saw me. I was about to reprimand her on not checking the peephole first when I realized how pointless it’d be considering it was the same conversation every time I showed up. Which, admittingly, was too many times as it was.
I shouldered my way in, listening to her close the door behind me before she walked over to where I stood and crossed her arms over the ridiculous overall shorts she wore. They were spattered in paint, blues, reds, and yellows coating the front of her, and I couldn’t help but chuckle. The outfit was the same one her mother used to like dressing her up in and I always wondered if she was paying homage to the woman that I knew she loved so much.
My eyes found a large bag of dry dog food resting against the kitchen counter before an eyebrow quirked at a yapping noise coming from behind the door of her bedroom.
She winced at the deadpanned expression I gave her. “Before you say anything—”
“You know animals aren’t allowed in the building, Della,” I told her anyway.
Her frown was instant as she toed the floor with her bare foot. “They technically allow fish and small cats. I figured I could convince them that a small dog was no different.”
The yapping got louder.
Walking over to her bedroom, I opened the door and watched a tiny blur of brown dart out. I turned and watched whatever it was spin around in the open area between the kitchen and living room, chasing its tail. “What the hell is that thing?”
“He’s a mutt. Be nice!”
“They’re not going to care what size it is, there’s a reason dogs aren’t allowed.” I pointed to where the fluffball growled at the bag of food like it was offending him somehow. “They’re loud, for one. I have no doubt the pretentious assholes who live on your floor will complain. Then there’s the fact you live on the fifth floor. They need to be trained, taken out, and what if it has an accident?”
“I’ll clean it up.” I hated the way her voice sounded so small, but I was only trying to make a point. She bent down and scooped up the dog, letting it lick her jaw. “He’s kind of cute, don’t you think? There’s no collar and he’s way too skinny to have a home. I found him going through some garbage outside the building.”
I cursed. “You picked up a dog from the side of the road?”
“It’s not like I picked up a human off the streets, Theo.” I had no doubt she’d do that too if she felt the person needed help. “How could you even question this cute little face? He’s got nowhere else to go.”
Her theatrics didn’t work on me. “I’m trying to get you to see the facts before you get too attached. You can’t help everybody that needs your generosity. There are shelters for strays around the city.”
To nobody’s surprise, she held the dog closer to her body in protection, like I’d snatch him up and run. “Some of the shelters euthanize innocent animals for no good reason other than limited space. At least if I keep him, I know he’ll be safe.”
I blinked. “You didn’t name it, did you?”
She gave me a timid smile.
“Della,” I chastised, pinching the bridge of my nose as the dog barked again.
“His name is Ramsay. Like Gordon Ramsay because his hair reminds of the chef’s.”
I blinked again. Twice. Slowly.
Her teeth bit into her bottom lip. “I’m going to train him, so he doesn’t make noise, and most of the apartment is hardwood or tile flooring so it wouldn’t be a huge hassle to clean up.”
“And smuggling him in and out to go to the bathroom?” I questioned, eyeing her skeptically.
Her face contorted to one of deep thought, but I could tell she was coming up blank based on the pleading look in her eyes. “I’ll figure it