Lottie's Point of View

"It's only half past eight, so that leaves me plenty of time to determine officially what there is left to be done," I explained. "So much of that is riding on the decision of which island this will all take place. Once I can figure that out, at least, then I can work everything else out."

My voice was the only sound to strike the air as Uncle Lyle and I hustled together through the hall to return to our offices, with the exception of the clicking and tapping of our shoes against the hard floor. We had just departed from the break room after warming our souls with a mug of white tea for me and a cup of black coffee for him. As we traveled briskly towards our destination under the fluorescent lights that sent shines across the white floor, the warmth still dwelled in my chest and my feet were propelled forward with the motivation to begin the day.

"Hmm," Uncle Lyle mumbled in response. Even after gulping down an entire cup of coffee, he still didn't seem to have much energy to keep a conversation going. I was mostly just organizing my thoughts, anyway.

"In the meantime, there's still something that I can do," I went on. "I still need to prepare the application forms and the interviews for the position of my assistant in this project. First, today, I'm going to document the questions needed for the form and then I'll be able to promote it to the public interested."

"Mm-hmm?" Uncle Lyle prompted dully. Together, we rounded the corner into the hall where our offices stood on the left.

"That's right," I agreed. "As soon as I make copies and release the template online, then I'll have a firm date on when interviews will begin. I plan to handle all of it, like I said, but it's very likely that it'll take away from my current schedule. For the sake of preparation, I would say that the interview process takes precedence over what I would have been doing otherwise."

A flurry of footsteps behind us appeared only to come to an immediate halt. Before either of us could have had the time to turn around, Digby's voice addressed me.

"Lottie?" Digby spoke up from behind me.

I paused in my stride towards my office to turn back and look at him to find him hurrying across the hall to reach me. A shudder of nerves sharply descended my stomach, which I quickly masked behind a bright smile.

"Hi. Sorry, just a minute," Digby apologized in greeting as he slowed to a stop within conversation range. The lights beaming down upon us shimmered in his beautiful chocolate-brown eyes. "I'm glad I caught you. I hope I'm not interrupting something."

"What can I do for you, Digby?" I inquired, politely folding my paws together in front of me. Uncle Lyle, clearly anxious to return to his office, was already scratching at his head and sneaking a glance towards his door about three feet ahead of us.

"Actually, I've got some great news," Digby announced, shifting to casually slip his paws into his pockets. "Well... It probably should have happened sooner, but I think it's great. Lately, I've been doing a lot of research and calling around to find the best place for Happy Home Paradise to source from after you put me to that task. Admittedly, I didn't have very much luck until now, but this morning, I might have found the perfect place."

The last segment caught Uncle Lyle's attention as he jolted back to face him again.

"Oh!" I exclaimed. Instantly, images had begun to filter through my mind of the place he spoke of, already racing to figure out what I would see. An endless patch of swaying grass, a lane of broken-down and abandoned houses, the possibilities were limitless. "Yes, that's great! Please tell me more."

"Oh, wait, before I forget." Digby ducked his head to look down at his pocket, fishing out a folded green sticky note and outstretching it for me to take. I accepted it and continued to follow his words. "I came across this number for a family of monkeys that lives over in that area. I had to really dig deep for it. Anyway, they'll be the ones to direct any questions to. You can speak to them and let me know what you think."

I didn't answer at first, carefully prying apart the note to open it. A phone number was scrawled across it in Digby's handwriting. The number that I had been searching for this entire time, that was about to alter the course of this entire project. For once, I had somewhere to start.

I dismissed myself from the conversation as promptly and professionally as I could and was already resuming my venture down the hall in brisk strides in the blink of an eye. I wasn't heading for my office, where I had earlier set myself to seating myself at my computer and compiling an application sheet, but the phone hooked into a crevice in the wall at the end of the path before the hallway would turn.

I plucked the phone from the receiver and gripped the unfolded sticky note in the other. I stared down at the scribbled number as I pressed the phone to my ear, internally chanting every digit until I had memorized it. I crushed the note in my paw again, tucked it away into the pocket of my jacket, and punched in the numbers with my newly free paw.

The phone began to ring out on the other line. It was a certain buzz that suddenly beckoned a memory from deep in my subconscious. Some number of years ago, Digby had gone back and forth calling his sister Isabelle from a phone number inscribed onto a sticky note after she first moved out. I wondered if this was what it felt like. The phone was answered after only two rings by the voice of a young man, none older than twenty or twenty one, and his voice was distant from the phone at first as he addressed someone else.

"No, Grandma. I don't know who it is. I haven't given my number out to anyone," he pointed out. His voice then appeared closer to the phone as he shifted his focus back to the call at hand. "This is Niko. Who am I speaking to?"

"Hi, Niko. This is Lottie from the Happy Home Designer and Academy," I greeted brightly. "I'm calling on behalf of our newest branch of service known as Happy Home Paradise. Is this a good time to talk?"

"Wow, you've got such a pretty voice!" Niko remarked. A smile climbed up onto my face at the compliment as a door closed somewhere down the hall. "And, um... What might that be? The paradise thing."

"Well, Happy Home Paradise is the title of an endeavor to reclaim abandoned homes and buildings and restore their potential through new places to live and essential services," I explained, perching my free paw against the edge of the crevice to rest it. "You might not have heard the name before and that's because it hasn't officially been announced yet. I'm talking to you amidst the development stage as I believe I will most benefit from your assistance."

"Wh— Oh," Niko stammered, seeming to struggle to process what I was saying to him. "Okay. It's just... How do I know for sure this is real? I just need to be sure that this isn't a scam before I do or say anything publicly. No offense. I hope you understand. We don't really have much as it is."

"I absolutely understand and respect the caution," I assured him. "I can promise you that this is all completely real and that there has been plenty of work behind the scenes to prepare for this. But if that still doesn't convince you, you can likely find information and the answers to any questions at your local library, online, or in our exclusive website. I can also answer any questions you have here if you think of any before our conversation ends."

"Okay. That's a little more reassuring, at least," Niko replied. "For the sake of my family, I'm still going to be somewhat careful about this, but I'm making the decision to put my faith in you. What do you need from me to make this opportunity a reality?"

"Thank you for agreeing to work with me, Niko," I said. "I promise that I won't let you down. I'm in charge of a lot of the planning, but I've become aware of a number of old and forgotten buildings around your area of residence. Is this information correct?"

"Yeah, that's right," Niko told me. "A whole bunch, actually. I've never counted them, but it's a lot. Are you planning to use them?"

"I'm hoping to, yes," I answered. While I spoke, my eyes absentmindedly ran along the surface and buttons of the phone's receiver and the curly cord that connected the phone. "May I check in on the current status of those buildings before I proceed? I'd like to know whether or not I need to contact an exterminator or health inspector if necessary."

"Oh, no, don't even worry about that," Niko urged. "My family and I have been working on preserving them in case of this exact event. My grandma's idea. She grew up here when it was a little more populated and grew so attached to the place that she can't bear to see it fade away. That's part of how we make our living, actually. She leads my siblings and me in a company called the Henrietta. That's her name. It doesn't make much money, but it makes her happy."

"What sort of work do you do for the Henrietta?" I inquired.

"We'll touch up some of the foundations of a building if needed," Niko explained. "You know, building or refurbishing, depending on what's needed and what it's built from. We're good like that. It's hard work, but it's satisfying. We've been saving up for a full order of paint to cover everything but we're not quite there yet."

"So... You do building, renovating, and painting?" I echoed. I had picked up the phone thinking I would only get a location out of this, not literally everything else as well. I didn't know whether this had contributed to Digby's decision or if he even knew, but the chances and the luck of this was ridiculous. It was almost surreal how quickly everything had just been handed to me.

"Professionally? No," Niko admitted. "We put together a company and slapped a name on it, but we aren't even impactful enough to be registered as a small business. We don't actually have official permits for this sort of thing. We're doing it instead for the good of the island. And Grandma's dreams, of course. But generally? Oh, yeah. Me an' my siblings are the hardest workers I've ever known. We can and will finish any task put in front of us and we work quickly and efficiently. I promise you that. We just haven't been and haven't cared to be recognized for it."

"In that case, I thoroughly believe that we will work well together," I decided. "I'll assist you in funding the permits and the materials you'll need to complete the job, but you'll be employed under the official Happy Home name rather than the Henrietta. If you ever need anything, you can come to me and I'll get it to you as promptly as possible. In return, I'll have extra work of your specialties for you to complete more officially to be able to offer the homes to those who need them, preparing them as such, as long as you're up for the job. Are we in agreement?"

"Wow! Yeah!" There was a faint rustling on the other line as Niko spoke enthusiastically. "I mean, I'll have to get Grandma's word on it, but I think she'll love it. I had no idea someone else cared so much about this. Thank you for supporting her dreams and making something of what we have so that it can grow. But, uh... What was it that you needed me to do for development? I don't think you said."

"Oh, right," I remembered aloud. He had asked what I needed from him, but I ran off with the question of whether there were abandoned buildings to utilize near his home. "To begin, I'll need a building for an office and a house for myself nearby. Whatever you can manage in a short period of time. If you can, please call back quickly with the addresses so that I can ship my work to my office and my belongings to my home."

"Mm-hmm. That won't be a problem," Niko told me. "I already have an idea for where I'd put the office. There's a building right next to the beach. It really lives up to that 'Paradise' name. Once again, I'm going to search up a little bit about you and your company before I give out any addresses near my home."

"I absolutely understand," I assured him. "Are there any other questions I can answer for you right now?"

"Nope, I think that's all," Niko said. "This is so exciting, though. I was never exactly keen to make myself someone in the world because of the pressure it can hold, but if I'm going to do it, this is how I want to."

"I'm very glad to hear that," I replied cheerfully. "In that case, I hope we speak again soon, Niko."

"I'd like to begin this meeting by extending a huge thank you to Digby," I announced, facing the conference table where he sat across the way from my uncle as I stood in front of the whiteboard. Both of them were watching me carefully to listen, both leaning an elbow casually on the table in an almost mirrored image. "Your hard work has officially gotten us to a place where we have now a firm location, a team of renovators, builders, and painters, and the preparation of both my office and home in the making."

Uncle Lyle reached across the table to grip Digby's shoulder and give it a little congratulatory shake. Apparently somewhat flustered by the compliments, he rushed to bury his head in his paws, though I noticed a smile already climbing across his face before he obstructed it from view.

"I mean it," I told him, politely clasping my paws together in front of him and struggling to tear the beam from my face as well. "I couldn't have done it without you."

"I mean, you could have," Digby replied, slipping his paws from his face again and dropping them back down onto the table as my uncle withdrew from his shoulder again. "But it makes me really happy to know that I've helped you so much."

"Well, the point is," I went on, stepping to face the board again. I tucked my paw into the marker bin to return with an orange marker. "We have made more progress towards our goal in the last twenty-four hours than we have in the last two months."

I clicked the cap off of the marker and raised it to the board, listening to the squeak of every mark as I constructed a large T-chart: A list of finished tasks and tasks yet to finish.

"If I'm correct, we now have more tasks finished than we have yet to finish," I announced, turning back to address my audience. "Can anyone remind me what we've already completed?"

"Choosing an island," Digby suggested.

"Finding the necessary team," Uncle Lyle added.

I nodded in silent agreement, hastily jotting down the two notes in the left column.

"Also, you packed up your office already," Digby pointed out just as I was scrawling out the end of the second note. "Except for your computer, I think."

He was right. I scribbled the third note beneath the others before moving on to the second column. I sensed both pairs of eyes burning through me, carefully monitoring my every move, as I tended to the list of outstanding tasks.

"All right," I declared at last, clipping the cap of the marker back into place and wrapping my paws around it to turn back around. "As you can see, our to-do list has become dramatically shorter. HHP is well on its way. All that's left to do is hire an assistant and ship out the necessary supplies, once I get the addresses to ship to."

"Wait a second," Uncle Lyle interjected suddenly. Digby's floppy ears swung at the sides of his head as he glanced over at him. "You haven't even gotten the addresses yet? When did you speak to this guy?"

"Just yesterday," I informed him. "I didn't expect to have them this soon, anyway."

"Okay, but why didn't he give you the addresses when you spoke on the phone?" Uncle Lyle asked. "Did you ask?"

"I did, but he requested to learn more about this company and myself before making any official decisions to ensure that the endeavor is completely legitimate," I explained.

"Well, I'll give him that," Uncle Lyle muttered with a sort of half-hearted agreeable shrug. "He's smart."

"Are there any updates on the official launch date?" Digby inquired, his dark eyes flicking back to meet mine.

"Not anything certain," I told him. "I've been narrowing down on it quite a bit based on what we've done and what is still left undone. I'm afraid of choosing a date too fast and not being ready in time. As of right now, I would call the release period somewhere around early November. I'm giving myself plenty of time to host interviews and find the best applicant for the job. Are there any other questions?"

"Yeah, I have one," Uncle Lyle answered, briefly tossing up his paw as if he were in a school classroom. "About what you just said, about the interviews. You haven't started those yet, right? Or have you?"

"I haven't yet," I admitted. "I still have to prepare the application forms and the questions I plan to ask. Now that we have everything else in our power settled, it'll be full speed ahead for that phase of development."

"I'm impressed with how well this is all working out," Digby spoke up again. "Well, of course I knew that this would come about somewhat smoothly, but how everything is so easily falling into place is beyond me. Lottie, this is your first time trying out a solo project and it looks to me like you know exactly what you're doing. I'm very impressed."

"Lottie." Uncle Lyle abruptly broke into the conversation before I could answer with the gentle urge of my name, raising his paw again to point at the clock above the whiteboard. I quickly twisted back around to sneak a glance at the clock that he gestured to. A hint to nine o'clock. I needed to wrap this up.

"Noting the time, I believe we should end here," I decided, chucking the marker back into the bin and sending my focus back to my small audience. "We seem to have had such a productive discussion that we've run out of time here. If there are any more questions about this project or in general, they can all be brought straight to me. As a reminder, I'll be in Studies from nine until noon. Thank you for meeting with me."

The meeting dispersed. Uncle Lyle was the first to leave the room, easing himself to his feet and ducking through the door, but Digby lingered as I retrieved the eraser to wipe down the board. I scrubbed down the whiteboard, eliminating every last orange mark, and breathed in and out at a steady pace to conceal my thumping heart by being alone with him.

"Do you need any help?" Digby inquired behind me.

"No, thank you," I replied, sneaking a glance over my shoulder to look at him. The moment I discovered him already watching me from his seat at the table, I jolted back towards the board to avoid his gaze. "You should get going to Open Advisory."

"All right." I heard Digby climb up from his chair in preparation to leave. I listened to the faint whine of its wheels as he pushed it back into place. "And by the way, I'm looking forward to seeing you tonight."

. . .

Quite obviously, there was a lingering question. Were Digby and I actually dating? The most honest answer was that I didn't have the faintest clue. We weren't a couple and he most certainly didn't see me as anything other than a friend. When we had first started going out, we had referred to the hangouts as dates, but the term didn't stick and nothing changed between us. It was just two coworkers spending time together as friends outside of work, occasionally in places or scenarios that one might have considered romantic. At least, that was the only logical explanation after several continuous years of it without any further discussion whatsoever.

The situation was complicated. Very, very complicated. I had first asked him eight years ago on his eighteenth birthday when I was twenty—On a date, I had made sure to mention. And he agreed that it was a date. The fact of his acceptance made me wonder whether he, too, felt some sort of romantic connection, but he approached the event casually and spoke of it without any sort of such undertones, so that clearly wasn't the case. I asked him out a second time the following year, hoping to get it through his head that I was trying to make a move, but he was either completely oblivious or was unspokenly insistent on keeping things platonic. Two dates turned into three, four, five, and then routine. Ranging from once a month to once every few months, we went out together after work on what I had once considered to be dates, but the word slowly lost its meaning. Now, here we were: Stuck in a standstill between friends and more, trapped indefinitely in a position that didn't have a word to define it.

Tonight, we would meet together at the late hour of ten o'clock. The timing alone was rather romantic, but I knew better than to assume it was the intention. We had been taking turns choosing the location and foundation of the date and this time, the decision belonged to Digby. He was going to take me somewhere we could sit underneath the stars as they started to appear, something that his mom and dad did for him whenever he wasn't quite feeling like himself. With the time that we were meeting up, there was definitely a heavenly sight about to be waiting for us.

After we had agreed on the activity, Digby promised to pick me up at the designated time and advised that we dress more comfortable than formal, given that we would be outside, even as comfortable as sweatpants. I hadn't owned sweatpants in years, so a pair of skinny black pants and a white knit shirt made do. I tied my hair into two low ponytails and found myself in the bathroom at half past nine to touch up my makeup. It was just as I was carefully reapplying my mascara, staring intently into the mirror in my focus, when I heard the approach and slow halt of footsteps that was Uncle Lyle appearing in the open doorway from the hall.

"You look nice," he told me as I continued to study my thick eyelashes in the mirror. Compliments from him weren't rare, but being spoken with any ounce of enthusiasm was.

"I'm not used to being so casual," I admitted, dipping the makeup wand back into the tube and setting it aside again on the counter. During the time that I had been preparing for the event, I had been rehearsing deep breathing techniques to ease my nerves as my stomach tumbled like a washing machine, but nothing relieved it.

"That doesn't mean you don't look nice," Uncle Lyle reminded me. When my eyes finally flitted to meet his, I saw him leaning against the doorframe to address me. The glow of light in the small room shone against the lenses of his glasses. "Do you know when you'll be back?"

"I don't know," I said. "Maybe midnight. Between midnight and one o'clock. It depends how much time we spend there."

"Bring your cell phone," Uncle Lyle suggested. "Then you can call me if anything changes. How are you feeling?"

"I'm really nervous," I confessed. "The thought that he'll be here in only half an hour or so is freaking me out a little."

"I understand, but there's nothing to worry about." Uncle Lyle removed himself from the doorframe like he was about to leave again. "He's probably pretty nervous, too. Besides, it's not like you guys haven't done this before. If it'll make you feel better, I'll wait with you once you're ready."

He kept his promise. I departed from the bathroom mirror just minutes later after attentively checking that I looked presentable, cute even, and found him seated in one of the chairs in the gathering area past the hall. He had already picked out a book for himself from the shelves in the back, a particularly thick book with a dark maroon dust jacket as it rested shut on his lap. I took the seat to his left, facing the door, and allowed my paw to be gently enclosed in one of his on the arm of my chair as his other paw propped open the story that he started after I had sat down. Only silence accompanied us as the wait dragged on and on, occasionally broken by the soft sound of a flipped page.

The wait seemed to last an eternity. I watched the clock tick closer and closer to ten o'clock with an agonizing slowness, holding my tongue from any complaints of my nerves. I jolted back to reality at the sound of a gentle knock on the front door, immediately shifting to face it in my seat as if Digby could see me through it. Uncle Lyle heard the knock as well, raising his head at the sound. He snapped his book shut with one paw and softly patted mine with the other.

"Go ahead and say hi," he murmured like the words were only for my ears. "You don't need me to take you there."

Unfortunately, it was true. I wasn't a kit anymore, despite how little I actually felt like a proper adult. My stomach tingled with jitters as I rose to my feet, shuffling as if through water with each conscious step to reach the door. The night was actually beginning now. I wrapped my paw around the doorknob, twisting it and drawing open the door.

Digby, as expected, stood on the other side of the door. He had definitely followed the casual theme he had suggested, dressed in a short-sleeved dark gray shirt and a pair of lighter gray sweatpants. His gaze had wandered distractedly at first, glancing up at the sky behind him as his paws were tucked away into his pockets, but his eyes snapped to meet mine as soon as the door swung open.

"Wow," he said.

"Wow?" I echoed blankly.

"You look beautiful," he told me.

I opened my mouth to thank him, knowing that he was likely just being friendly, as per usual, but an interjecting shout from the gathering room cut me off.

"Oh, go on and get out of here," Uncle Lyle called out from his chair in that familiar monotone humor. "I don't need to be hearing all that."

Digby, having been acquainted with my uncle for over a decade and understanding the difference between frustration and teasing, showed no offense. Instead, an amused smile crept onto his face as he stepped to lean into the room to look at him in his seat with the book still perched on his lap, gripping the outside doorknob for balance. I backed myself up against the edge of the door to offer him some more space, but even so, he left just inches between us to speak into the room.

"I hope you're having a good night, Mr. Lyle," Digby said. I forced an awkward smile to my uncle as well, understanding full well that he could plainly see how close we stood together. "I'll bring Lottie back safe and sound in a few hours. I won't let anything happen to her."

"Better not, or I'll make sure you're next," Uncle Lyle muttered, dropping his gaze to crack open the book on his lap again.

Digby and I exchanged our brief goodbyes with my uncle with a couple of little laughs at the conversation before I shut the door behind us. Just like that, we stood together in the dense darkness of the late hour, only the top stone step alight by the yellowish glow by the lamps hanging from the awning. I turned my face up to glance over at him to realize that we had looked at each other at the same time. Another surge of flutters squeezed my stomach, creating a conscious effort to avoid looking away.

"It's dark out, isn't it?" Digby remarked.

"Mm-hmm," I replied, forcing a nod in agreement, but I couldn't ignore the relentless hammering of my heart. Even now, our shoulders nearly touched in the short distance between us. "I can hardly see anything."

"My eyes are pretty well adjusted since I've been out here for a while, so I'll show you where to go," Digby offered. "Plus, I don't want to accidentally lose you in the dark!"

Before I had the chance to answer, the sensation of feeling Digby's paw clamp ahold of mine snatched away any and all of my words. I focused instead on breathing rather than trying to speak as he stepped forward to direct me by the paw, urging me to be careful on the stairs, and we were on our way. I teetered unsteadily down the steps, still hardly visible through the heavy darkness, steered in the right direction by Digby's gentle pull on my paw. The stone leveled out onto the sidewalk as we ventured further, crossing beneath the spurts of light over the path from a lightpost here and there, towards our destination with my paw held in Digby's every step of the way.

"Hey," Digby murmured, nudging me with his shoulder before he raised his free paw to point to the sky. It was only then that I noticed something unusual about his paw gently holding mine—Was he shaking a little bit? "Look."

So I looked, turning my face up to the pitch-black sky. Bright and shimmering, the sky was sprinkled with dots of starlight. Even the clouds had completely parted to allow the striking sight. It was almost breathtaking how clear the sky was tonight. Digby had certainly picked a good night to sit beneath them.

"Wow," I whispered.

With the luminescence of the stars illuminating our path, we split off from the firm sidewalk onto the supple patch of grass. We ascended a steep hill with careful steps—I dug my feet into the dirt with every one just to prevent an awkward slip—And we surfaced at a wide, empty plot of grass dimmed by the late hour. Crickets chirped somewhere in the shadows as we proceeded onto the land, drifting along with paws latched together under the stars and quarter moon, and I waited patiently for Digby to either stop or speak.

A decent way through the plot, surrounded distantly by a thin row of high-reaching trees, we slowed to a stop.

"How's this?" Digby suggested, finally dropping my paw as he shifted to face me. "It seems comfortable to sit and we have a good view of the sky."

"I think it's perfect," I told him.

Digby didn't answer verbally, though his silence implied his agreement. He eased himself down onto a seat on the grass, settling into position with a faint sigh, and I followed the action. I lowered down into a seat beside him, delicately so as to not stain my pants by the grass, and adjusted into a cross-legged position. By the time I had settled again, casually resting my paws on my knees, Digby had moved again to set his weight on his paws behind him and gaze up at the sky.

"How often do you do this?" I asked him to make conversation.

"Hmm?" Digby rushed to glance over at me again. "Oh. I'm not really sure. Once every few months might be pushing it."

"Do you always come here?" I inquired. "When you go with your parents?"

"Actually, no," Digby pointed out. "I've never been here before. I knew we would be doing this tonight, so I did some work to find a good place close by. It's pretty lucky that this place is only about five to ten minutes away from your house."

"Mm-hmm," I agreed. "I'll have to come here more often now that I know it's here."

The flashing light of a plane slowly and silently crossed the sky. Digby shifted in his seat again, carefully reclining onto the grass. Upon noticing this, I copied him, laying back onto the rocky ground and ignoring the bumpy surface beneath me as my gaze danced around the sky. The stars enclosed the land in a huge dome, so distant and yet so distinct. A soft, brisk breeze swept through, rustling in the short grass and caressing the fur on my face.

I let my arms sink into the grass at my sides and quietly studied the sights above me. I watched the passing plane, gliding through the darkness and flashing a light all through its path, a tiny red dot amidst millions of stars. I drew in a long breath of the smooth midsummer night air, gradually sinking into the simplicity of living rather than the demand of presence with the longer my eyes tracked the scatter of lights. As the minutes timelessly crept by, I soaked in the warmth of Digby lying down beside me, staring up at the sky just as I was, and I was at peace. This night really wasn't so bad at all.

"You know, I just thought of something," Digby murmured after a while, pulling me back into the sense of presence and alertness. I glanced over at him to find him already watching me, his face not even eight inches from mine as the depths in his dark eyes sunk forever. "You said that you were looking for an assistant to help you during and after the launch of Happy Home Paradise. What if that was me?"

"Well..." I whispered, sifting through my mind for the best response.

It wasn't a bad idea, actually. I hadn't even considered adjusting Digby's position to become my assistant. Digby had proved time and time again that he would remain loyal and supportive of both me and my work, so I wouldn't have to learn to trust someone else. Bringing him with me to the island would ease the tension of leaving home as well. But having him continue to work beside me raised a number of problems as well. This was my very first solo project and I needed my work to have my full attention. Also, what about his work here at the HHDA?

"No, I don't think you can," I decided.

"Why not?" Digby inquired curiously.

"Your work here is very important, Digby," I reminded him softly. "I would love to bring you with me and have you work as my assistant, but you're needed here and I can't get in the way of that. I might have your company and your professional support, but you'd be leaving Uncle Lyle on his own. He hasn't worked on his own since I was fourteen and that was very hard for him. If not for me, then you need to stay for him."

"Oh," Digby muttered. I caught the slight drop of disappointment in his voice. "I guess that makes sense."

The conversation dissipated, but my thoughts had begun to roam. What would it have been like if I would bring Digby with me instead? He likely would have gotten along well with the friendly family of monkeys that lived there. I would have needed to ask for a second house from Niko to be prepared. Or maybe we would have shared a house like a pair of roommates. We would walk to work together, walk home together, eat meals together, and be closed into the same walls together practically every moment of every day, whether it be in the house or the office. I just probably couldn't have managed to rid the awkwardness of sleeping in the same bed, so that would have been the exception.

"I sometimes worry that you're overworking yourself," Digby murmured, drawing my attention back to him. He wasn't looking at me this time, but rather still gazing up at the sky.

"How so?" I asked.

"Well, every little thing you do and think about is devoted to the launch of this project," Digby reminded me, shifting to comfortably rest his arm under his head as his eyes lingered in the stars. "Every second of every minute of every day, it feels like. I get that's just what work is sometimes, but it sounds like it would be too much."

Luckily, it was the truth to state that wasn't what it was like. I hadn't ever stopped to thoroughly consider the extent of my passion for the project. Not once had I considered it to be overwhelming—The pressure occasionally rammed a wave of stress into my life, but it was nothing to throw off my stride. In the most basic definitions, it might have even been more of an obsession than anything. Once the idea first crept into my mind three years ago, despite the fact that I never actually did anything with it until a couple months ago, I never quite let it go. The minute I took action was right when it became my entire life's purpose and I was perfectly content with that.

"I'm not overworking myself," I promised. "I know when to take a break when I'm at my limit. Uncle Lyle taught me that. I actually feel more like I'm under-working myself."

"What do you mean?" Digby inquired, finally turning his head to look at me.

"I guess I mean to say that I've never felt like I can't do this," I explained. "Everything that I'm doing and need to do is everything in my ability. I never questioned that. But knowing that is knowing I'm not pushing myself or making the best of it. Does that make sense? There's more that I could be doing that I'm not. The launch is planned for November and there's still things that need to be done before then. I feel like it's completely in my ability to be further than I am and yet I'm not."

"Okay, but that's not your fault, though," Digby pointed out, forcing a strained breath as he slowly eased back up into a seated position. I climbed up as well, facing him with my legs folded over each other. "You were smart to focus on one big task at a time. But if you think about it, there's only one more thing that's in your power as of right now and that's the interviews. You can't do anything about shipping until Niko gets back to you. Have you typed up the application forms yet?"

"No, not yet," I answered. "I was first focusing on planning with Niko."

"See? There you go," Digby said. "You have a good reason for not having everything done. Now that you're finished with that phase of development, the doors to the future have opened."

I would have made an attempt to respond had I not just become suddenly aware of how short the distance between us was. Digby's face wasn't any farther than six inches from mine, his gaze settling motionlessly into mine. Whether he didn't realize it or didn't want to embarrass me by bringing it up, I didn't know. My breath was shallow and tight, suddenly struggling to come in and out. I wasn't sure how long we sat like that. His friendly efforts prevented him from pulling away, politely watching me where we sat, and my eyes were drowning in the dark color of his. My chest squeezed, my heart thumped, and my paws and legs rooted themselves into the ground, keeping me from moving a fraction of an inch. Maybe that was why he was still watching me. Because I was still watching him.

As much as staring into Digby's eyes frightened me, I didn't find myself looking away. The moments bled into minutes as we sat and I didn't know what to do. I listened to the sound of his soft breathing, in and out, and fought to do the same. I didn't even care to glance up at the sky anymore, just as long as I could have stayed right here in his eyes. Only minutes later did familiarity begin to slink back in.

The faint breeze of nightfall. The scattered stars above our heads. The crickets whirring in the shadows. My paws on his cheeks. His arms around my waist. The way that the night engulfed me whole as I pulled his face closer.

"Sorry about that," I murmured awkwardly, rushing to shy my eyes away to my paws perched within the grass. "I hope that wasn't weird."

The night dragged on as if nothing had happened at all. We both settled back down onto our backs at some point and turned our faces to the sky. Dark coils of cloud had begun to wrap around the sky, but not nearly enough to obstruct the sights hanging above us. I ignored the flutters rolling through me whenever he spoke up beside me. We pointed out the brightest clusters of stars. We spoke of other things, as well. As the night shuffled on, timelessly turning hour into hour, we discussed the small things to catch up on in our lives, occasions at work, even circling back to the interviews I had yet to host.

"You should add a sort of personality-type question at the end or something," Digby had suggested, turning to rest his head on his arm as he looked at me. "Something like 'what one item would you bring to a deserted island if you had to'? I think that really fits the theme and it can help you get to know someone by that question alone. I think so, anyway."

When the clouds began to loom across the sky, we decided that it was time to call it a night. Digby offered to walk me home, but I declined—It was late, and he still had a bit of a walk to get home. Digby was hesitant to accept the suggestion as we picked ourselves up from the ground, but agreed nonetheless and set off to leave. As he disappeared into the dimness of the late night—Or maybe early morning, depending on how long we had been out here—I stood behind and watched him leave.