"Is that a dog?"

I'd worried about catching bringing the peonies. But as I carried them into the office's back door, my mom didn't even notice.

"Yep," I said, brushing past her to put the bucket down. "Do you want these all here together?"

"Sure," she said, watching Sehun as he tied an old scarf I'd found in my backseat around the dog's neck. The dog, who had not calmed down during the one hour drive, kept trying to him.

I walked back to the van, pulling open the other door and reaching for a bucket of tall sunflowers. A moment later, Sehun was beside me, removing the daisies. "I think he's thirsty," he said to me. "You think I can grab him some water?"

"Eomma's not exactly an animal person," I advised him. We both looked over at her: she was studying the dog as it chewed on the scarf. "Whatever you do, I'd proceed with caution."

"Right. Thanks."

We went inside, putting the buckets down. Looking into the conference room, I saw Wooyoung at the table, unloading mason jars from a cardboard box. He called out, "Did you bring lunch? I'm hungry."

"One second," I told him. "We're getting the flowers in."

He looked around me, out at the car and Sehun. "Is that -"

"Yes," my mom, still in the doorway, told him. "They brought back a dog, too. Which was not on the list."

I grabbed a bottled water from a nearby counter, along with a plastic cup. When I went back outside, Sehun was at the van, pulling out succulents. "Here," I said, handing them both to him. "Just try to keep things under the radar."

"I always do," he said cheerfully. I couldn't tell if he was kidding.

I unloaded the lunch stuff, then left Wooyoung and Eomma at the table with their salads and went back outside, where the dog is now drinking water out of the plastic cup. When he saw me, he stopped, lifting his dripping snout, and started wagging its tail.

"He likes you," Sehun told me.

"I smell like lunch," I replied, not quite convinced. Still, I bent down, scratching behind the dog's ears.

The truth was, I wasn't much of an animal person. I remembered a time, back in grade one, when I'd wanted a cat or dog more than anything. But Eomma worked so much, and she claimed her former life on the farm had been quite enough animal caretaking, thank you, so eventually I stopped asking. It wasn't that I didn't like pets; I just figured that they weren't for people like my mom and me.

Sehun, however, felt differently. It was obviously by the way he was watching the dog drink, as if he was both adorable and genius. "I didn't hear him get called anything, did you? Guess that means we can name him whatever we want."

We? I thought. Out loud I said, "What's Julee going to say about this?'

"Oh, she'll be fine. She loves animals." The dog finished off the water, then sat back and shook its head, sending droplets flying. "And anyway, she won't have to deal with him. he'll go everywhere with me."

"On foot," I clarified. he nodded. "What's going to happen when you crash at people's houses, like last night?"

"This is a small dog," I replied. "Compact. Won't be a problem."

"You'll have to feed it. And take it to the vet, make sure it's healthy. And what about in the fall, when you go back to school."

He looked at me. "You think way ahead, don't you?"

"No," I said, although I couldn't see why this was a bad thing. "I just think. I don't just take a dog and deal with the consequences later."

"Right now, there aren't consequences, though," he replied. "There's just a happy dog. What do you think about the name Damon?"

The dog leaned down and began the empty cup hard enough to make it scrape against the pavement.

"Why didn't you ask me about what Mrs. Kimmy said?"

It was like I'd both planned to say this, and totally had not. My discomfort earlier, when this discussion had seemed inevitable, had passed with all the excitement of the abduction and ensuing ride home. Now I didn't feel like I just wanted to get it over with: instead, I was curious. Sehun clearly had no problems discussing over any boundaries in conversation or other-wise. So why not this one?

"You mean about your boyfriend?" he said.

"Yeah."

"Did you want me to ask?"

"No," I said. "I never do. I hate talking about it. But that's never stopped you before."

"Are we already at the point where our  relationship is in nevers?" he questioned. "That was fast."

"You know what I mean."

"I'm not sure I do." He stood, the dog watching him, tail still wagging. "Look, Suzy. I might be a dog stealer, as far as you're concerned, but I am able to follow basic rules of civility. If I was going to talk about a bad breakup, I'd want to be the one to bring it up. You did not."

A bad breakup?  I thought. Then I said, "I don't always have the choice."

"Clearly. So why would I make it worse by then pushing for more information? People will tell you what they want to know. I'm annoying, not an ."

I had to admit this was not what I was expecting. But as I went back over what Mrs. Kimmy had said again, I realized it made sense he'd drawn this conclusion. Everyone had breakups they didn't want to talk about. Why would he assume it was anything else?

As if to continue the moment, the dog burped, spitting water. I opened my mouth to say something, but realized, again to my surprise, that I had a lump in my throat. I swallowed. "I don't think he's a Damon."

"No?" He squatted down, giving the dog another scratch. "You might be right. No worries. He'll tell us his name when he wants us to know it."

"He'll tell us?"

"Well, in his way." He patted his head. "Stay here. I promise I'll be back. Okay?"

In response, the dog wagged its entire body. As we walked away, it was still wagging.

It was the shortest of walks back to the conference room, not nearly enough time to explain what I'd been thinking when I asked him about what Mrs. Kimmy had said. The truth was, I felt I owed it to Jongsuk that he not be just the boy I once loved, much less one more face in a news story you dreaded having to hear. He was more than that, and yet talking about him to others felt, too often, like appropriating something. What did it take to claim a person, really? One perfect night? A few weeks of phone calls, hundred of texts, all of them full of future plans and promises made? I'd spent less then a day with Jongsuk, but still felt he knew me better than just about anyone. You can't measure love by time put in, but the weight of those moments. Some in life are light, like a touch. Others, you can't help but stagger beneath.

This was on my mind all afternoon as Sehun and I rinsed mason jars, packed them with flowers, then put them in lined boxes to be transported to the armory for table decors at the rehearsal dinner. Occasionally he went to check on the dog, bringing him snacks, more water, an old dishtowel I'd found under the sink to curl up on, but otherwise we worked in silence. People will tell you what they want you to know, he'd said. If that was true, I would've brought up Jongsuk right away, not just with him but everyone I met. That's what you do about the best thing that's ever happened to you. Unless, I guess, it is also the worst.

At 6 p.m., Eomma and Wooyoung left for the venue, releasing us to our respective evenings. I was expecting to be asked to transport Sehun and the dog to wherever their next place might be, but then, as I was locking up, a black car pulled up at the curb. A pretty girl with off-the-shoulder sweater, black jeans, sunglasses on top of her head, was behind the wheel.

"Hey," she called out to me. "I'm looking for Sehun."

He's around back," I replied. "Should be out in a moment."

"Thanks." She smiled, then pulled down her mirror, taking out a lip gloss and applying a coat. Was this Rose? Someone else? Of course I wouldn't ask. He hadn't told me.

A moment later Sehun came around the corner holding the scarf, the dog running excitedly at the opposite end. "Irene," he said. "Annyeong!"

She smiled. "I didn't know you had a dog."

"I am full of surprises." He climbed into the passenger seat, then patted his lap. As the dog jumped in, Irene burst out laughing, reaching over to rub his head with one hand. Sehun waved at me, and I nodded, then walked over to my own car. When I looked back a moment later, they were pulling out of the lot, the dog's head poking out the window. On the way home, I changed the radio station six times before I decided, finally, on silence.