Wherever you are, whenever it's right
You'll come out of nowhere and into my life

—Michael Bublé, Haven't Met You Yet


Weeks went by and I heard not a word from Zoë. I tried calling her a few times, then let some time pass before trying again, attempting not to seem too desperate. I left messages on her voicemail, sent a text message or two, but got no response.

And each time, the constriction in my chest pulled just a little tighter.

I tried to put her out of my mind, and at work I was able to do so. Off duty it was a tougher ask, so I took to distracting myself with trips to the beach and my stack of Journal of American Psychology issues. I went to a different beach than the one where I'd met Zoë, of course, but I don't think the location mattered much. I missed her no matter where I was.

On one of my outings I had myself ensconced in relative comfort on a bench, sunblock smeared over every inch of exposed skin. The journal I had been reading had slipped down into my lap and my eyes wandered aimlessly over the populace, daydreams running through my head instead of academic observations. I was in the middle of a particularly affectionate scene when I heard a female voice float down on the ocean breeze.

"Hey! Catch that dog! Nina! Come here, girl…come on sweetheart…"

People were getting out of the way, watching something careen down the beach followed by the yelling woman. I sat up straighter on the bench to get a better look and made out a canine-shaped bullet speeding across the sand.

Zoë was trailing behind.

Without thinking I jumped to my feet, plotting a trajectory that would place me in front of the dog with enough time to either grab its collar or herd it in a more appropriate direction. I saw the expressions on people's faces as I moved toward the runaway animal—they thought I was as crazy as Zoë—but I ignored them and kept going. The dog looked panicked, ears flatted back on its head, tail between its legs as it skittered down the beach, but Zoë looked more panicked. My only thought was to help her.

Zoë saw me—or rather, saw a man in position to chorale her fugitive pet—and slowed to a trot. "Nina! Nina, honey, it's okay…"

When Zoë slowed, the dog slowed, eyeing me as if I were some sort of evil-doing bad guy and wondering how best to avoid me. I called her name a couple of times, trying to keep my voice steady and calm, trying at the very least to distract the poor creature long enough for Zoë to nab her.

The plan worked. Nina was half-frozen in fear of such a tall stranger looming before her and didn't notice Zoë creeping up behind her. The next thing the animal knew, her collar had been snagged and a leash clipped securely to it.

"Thank you," Zoë panted, still not seeing me for who I was.

"Any time," I replied evenly. The elation at having her there in front of me was mixing with resentment. Why hadn't she returned my calls? If she didn't want to see me again, was it too much to ask to say so?

My voice must have pulled her focus away from the dog, because she looked me in the eye as if seeing me for the first time. "Nate?"

"Hi Zoë. Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she answered quickly, still breathing hard. "Nothing's hurt but my self-esteem."

Neither one of us knew what else to say, so I turned the conversation to the dog, thinking that would break the tension. "And who is this lovely lady here?"

"This is Nina," Zoë answered with a smile, kneeling down and scratching Nina's ear. "She was a breeding dog for a fighting operation, and didn't have much human contact until she came to me."

I took a good look at the pooch for the first time, and understood why people had run away rather than toward her. She was a thick, tawny Pit Bull. "Oh," was all I could manage.

Zoë must have recognized the look in my eyes, because she launched into a speech that sounded well rehearsed. "She's not dangerous. In fact, she's a pretty shy dog—and you would be too if the only people you ever saw forced you from your dirty cage to strap you into a rack to wait for a male dog, then came and took your puppies away after they were born."

I made a face involuntarily. "Is that why she ran away?"

"No," Zoë shook her head, chagrined. "She's gotten better with me. But I clipped her leash to the little ring that held her tag to her collar, not to the actual collar itself, and something scared her while we were out walking. The ring broke, she took off, and, rather than help, people ignored me when they saw Nina was a Pit." Rising to her feet, Zoë gave me an appraising look before continuing. "But you helped."

Struck dumb in her company once again, I could only shrug.

"Thanks," she said again, as though words had failed her, too.

We stood in awkward silence for a few long minutes while both Zoë and Nina recovered from their sprint. When I could stand it no more, I said the only thing that came to mind: "I tried to call you."

"You did?"

Her surprise seemed genuine and caught me off guard. "Yeah," I returned. "I thought we had…a connection…"

"Me too." Her lips pulled into a small smile, and I wondered where we had gone wrong. This was the same woman I'd been besotted with on the beach that day, not the one that had supposedly ignored me. "I kept waiting to hear from you, and I didn't have your number…"

"You didn't get any of my messages?"

She shook her head. "I figured you changed your mind and didn't want to see me."

"But I did…I tried…" Fishing my cell phone from my pocket, I pulled up her entry and read out the number. "Three-one-oh-five-five-five-oh-one-six-six."

Her eyes widened and she shook her head again. "I'm three-one-oh-five-five-five-one-oh-six-six."

"I transposed the numbers." I was horrified by the realization.

"Or I did," she countered.

"You were so flustered by my presence," I joked, "that you messed up your own phone number?"

Her eyes twinkled up at me, and my heart nearly stopped. "It's been known to happen."

My chest puffed out with pride. I did have an effect on her! "Then I'm glad Nina got spooked today."

"I'm glad you were here to help me catch her."

There was another pause in the conversation, but this time it was less awkward, and I ended it by gesturing to the bench I had occupied earlier. "Why don't we sit down and talk?"

"The shrink specialty," she giggled. "'Lie down on the couch and tell me about your childhood'."

I chuckled in return. "I could have said 'sit', 'stay'!"

She laughed aloud, and I thought of bells as I had during our first meeting. Feeling light-headed and tingly, I reached out and clasped her free hand in mine, leading her over to the bench with Nina close behind. Once she and Zoë and I were situated, I released Zoë's hand just long enough to manipulate the screen of my phone. "Now let me make sure I have it right, this time."

Zoë repeated the digits of her phone number and confirmed the spelling of her name, then took out her own phone and smiled. "Your turn."

My excitement rendered me stupid yet again. "You want my number?"

"Yes," she said decisively. "I was pleasantly surprised to meet you the first time, and lucky to run into you a second time." Her smile softened, and she squeezed my hand. "I don't want to tempt fate."

I agreed, grinning gleefully.