“Just consider it,” she pleads, desperation oozing through the phone.
I let Vicky grovel a bit, savoring it more than I should, before ending the call.
For a dangerous moment, I let my mind wander to some alternate reality where I say yes to Vicky’s offer and return to New York.
Somewhere in New York, a guy I try so hard not to think about is living his glamorous life.
Maybe at this precise moment, he’s sharing a meal with his brainiac professor girlfriend, clinking glasses over some overpriced wine. Or perhaps they’re indulging in a romantic soak in a tub made for two, her never-ending limbs all tangled up around him.
Maybe, he’s introducing her to his mom, showing her the respect he never quite managed to give me. Maybe he’s taken her to Ireland, to that little cottage by the sea where he stared into her eyes and held her hand while he made love to her. Maybe he’s telling her all the things he never quite managed to say to me.
And that’s okay. Really, it is. Because we were never meant to be, Connor and I.
And I’m living my life too. Meeting normal guys like Tom who don’t leave me an emotional wreck. We shared a sweet, solidly decent kiss after our date. Here’s to the straightforward Toms of the world.
Men like Connor are too broken, too damaged to ever truly be happy. They expect the world to bend to their whims, never hearing the word no.
Not even buckets of money could get me working for Vicky again. I can already feel my soul trying to leave my body for entertaining the notion. She can keep her raise—I’ll keep my peace of mind.
Still, it’s weird she’s making this last-ditch effort to get me back. Vicky knows I have zero sway with Connor now. She must be up against the wall.
“Everything okay, Lexi?” Mom’s voice pulls me back.
“Vicky asked me to take my old job back,” I tell her with a frown.
“Because you’re so fabulous at what you do,” Mom says, patting my hand loyally. “What did you say?”
“No, obviously,” I reply quickly, the words tumbling out of my mouth before I can think about them.
Mom hums, a sound that’s trying to be neutral but failing miserably.
We walk on in silence.
“Are you happy Lexi?” she asks softly.
I blink, surprised. “Yes, of course. I love my new job.”
Why does everyone keep asking if I’m happy? I even told Mom about my nice date with Tom, about how he seems lovely and uncomplicated and exactly what I need right now.
I’ve got a great job, a cozy house, a work-life balance. It’s perfect, exactly what I always wanted.
Right?
???
As I scroll through the virtual lineup of rescue dogs, I’m bombarded with cuteness. How do you even choose one when every pair of puppy eyes is begging to be taken home?
I need to figure out what kind of furry roommate would vibe with my lifestyle. A pocket-sized, yappy chihuahua that could double as a fashion accessory? A noble sheepdog with more hair than sense? A refined greyhound, all class and long legs? That’snot going to work in this house. Or perhaps a bulldog, with a face only a mother could love?
I eye my couch critically. It won’t do well with dog hair. A switch to a leather one might be in the cards if I’m going to commit to this dog mom life.
This is going to be a challenge. Adopting a dog isn’t just about the cuddles—it’s a full-time commitment. But I have time now, which is priceless. Well, not quite priceless, but man, what a difference.
After work tomorrow I’ll head to the shelter, if they’re open. Maybe I’ll even skip team drinks on Thursday for once. Decisions, decisions.
An email from Kayla interrupts my doggy daydream. She’s summoning me back to New York to see her.
I smile scanning it, warmth rushing over me. I miss her so much—video calls just aren’t the same.
