Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 138881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 694(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 694(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
There. I’ve done something useful for Mabel. It’s all I can do. I send her a message, letting her know. I can’t fix my own damn heart, but I can fix the bakery order.
I set down the tablet, then put the mug—it says She’s the Boss, Just Ask My Daughter—in the sink.
I pat the pup’s head. “You’re a patient boy.”
He happy-whimpers, then follows me as I head to the mudroom to grab a dog bag and the leash. When I grab it, he spins in a circle, bopping my thigh with his soft head.
I kneel and pet him some more. He rubs his head against me, then nudges me. He must need to go. “All right, that’s something I won’t fuck up,” I say, then put the leash on him.
Once we’re outside, I walk down the sidewalk, but he doesn’t do his business. He turns to me, tilts his head, then nudges my thigh again.
I bend down and pet him a second time. He bumps his head against my leg a third time.
“What do you want, Taco?” I ask curiously, then pet him some more.
He keeps rubbing his head against me, so I wrap my arms around him. He lets out a sigh, and it sounds happy. I pat him some more, and a few seconds later he’s finally ready for a walk.
He just wanted a hug. I get it.
“That all you wanted?” I ask.
He doesn’t answer, but the answer seems to come in his gait—fast and proud. He’s focused on his walk now, sniffing the occasional bush or tree, but mostly full-speed ahead. He’s a cutie, with white and brown markings—Charlotte did a color show and tell—including spectacular ears. Charlotte adores him, and Mabel would love him too. A pang shoots through my chest at the thought of how much she’d have loved him. How she’d have shown it. She would have kissed his head, pet his belly, and thrown him a frisbee.
My heart craters. Like it’s been punched by the annoyingly fantastic image my dickhead brain just supplied of Mabel playing with the dog. Something she won’t get to do. Because she’s not here hanging out with foster dogs with me. Spending the night with me. Waking up next to me so I can make her breakfast, shower with her, go to work with her—together.
Because I ended things. I had to, of course. I was too much. I was messing up her dreams. No other choice but to cool things off.
Hell, it already seems like Afternoon Delight is running smoother since we took a step back two days ago.
Soon, we near Annabelle’s house, and my attention snags on a fluffy orange cat sniffing grass in the front yard.
“Seven, did you sneak out again?” I ask, but my gaze lands on a harness on the big boy. It’s attached to a long leash, and what do you know—Annabelle’s holding it on the porch, letting the cat roam while keeping him safe.
When Taco spots him, he jerks his head toward the cat, then ignores him.
Another point for this perfect dog.
“Someone has a leash now,” I say, nodding to the cat.
“Every now and then people can change,” she says. “I had to change to keep him safe.”
“Smart move.”
“And look at you, being a dog dad now,” she says, standing and coming down the steps to join me, leash in hand.
“Just a foster-dog dad,” I clarify.
She gives me a look. “You say that like fostering isn’t important.”
“Well, it’s just—it’s all I can manage right now,” I say, then sigh. That’s something I’m learning a lot about unfortunately. What I can actually handle, and what I can’t.
Annabelle shoots me a worried look. “What’s going on? Your energy is…” She narrows her eyes, studying me, and here we go again.
“I’m sure my energy’s fine. I just had coffee,” I say, trying to make light of things.
“No. It’s…dark. Inward,” she says, tilting her head. “Painful. Like a thorn.”
No shit.
But wait. Hold on. Last time she read my energy, I was dismissive. Turned out she was right. Maybe this time, I should let her. What if she can help me manage…life without Mabel?
“Yeah, that’s true,” I admit, more vulnerable than I want to be, but maybe I have to be.
She motions to her porch, and I join her, the dog gamely trotting by my side. “What’s going on? I sensed you were happy. Falling in love. Learning the colors at my shop for a woman. Buying flowers every day for a woman. Bringing me cake…for a woman. Now you’re walking around like…honestly, I haven’t seen you like this since your mom was diagnosed.”
I bristle. “It’s not the same. How could I compare the two? This is just a breakup.”
She pauses, as if she’s giving that some thought. “Why did you break up with her?”
“How do you know I did it?”