Silence drags while I wait for him to respond.
Then he slowly shakes his head. “I’m thirty-seven, Penny. I want commitment. I want to get married one day. Maybe start a family. I don’t mind taking things slowly, but I’m getting thefeeling you’renevergoing to be ready for more than what we have right now.”
A lump swells in my throat.
I’m scared of opening myself up to more.
But I’m scared to lose him, too.
On the heels of fear comes frustration.
Things have been working just fine as they are. Why does he want to push for more and potentially ruin things between us?
“Am I right?” Mitch presses. His gaze searches mine. “Or am I reading things wrong?Areyou ready to be my girlfriend? Are you ready to see each other multiple times a week? Maybe not move in yet, but at least consider going on a trip together?”
Part of me wants to say yes.
But the other part is still too scared.
When I don’t answer, Mitch sighs again. His shoulders slump. “Okay, Penny. I get it.” He signals the server, who hustles over to pick up our check. Once she’s gone, he says, “Maybe it’s not a good idea to go out like this anymore.”
My heart squeezes. “Mitch. It doesn’t have to be like that.”
He looks at me sadly. “I think it does.”
CHAPTER 2
MITCH
“I don’t think I’m asking for too much, am I?”
Duke cocks his head and gives me a quizzical look. His tail whips back and forth in an excited blur. Then he thunks down on his haunches and raises his paw expectantly.
“I didn’t ask if you wanted a treat,” I tell him. “I asked for your opinion about Penny.”
His ears perk up at the magic word. He hops up and trots over to the kitchen closet, where I keep his treats, then turns to look back at me with a hopeful expression.
Shaking my head, I cross the kitchen and open the closet door. As I open a new box of dog biscuits, I continue my one-sided conversation. “We’ve been dating for six months. At least,Ithought we were dating. But apparently, in Penny’s mind, we were just… What? Hanging out? Two friends having dinner every week?”
I set the treats in a line on the floor, too distracted by my own thoughts to make him perform tricks for them like I usually do. He has no complaints about it, scarfing them up like a four-legged vacuum cleaner. Once he’s decided the floor doesn’t havea molecule of dog biscuit left on it, he looks back up at me and tilts his head.
“No more,” I say. “You’ve already had dinner and treats. You’re good for the night.”
Duke casts me a doubtful look. Clearly, he doesn’t agree.
As I head back into the living room, Duke following close behind, I let out a frustrated sigh.
Six months of dates that Ithoughtmeant something.
Six months of spinning hopeful plans for the future.
Six months of believing Penny wanted more, eventually.
I flop down on the couch and sigh again.
Duke hops up beside me and rests his head on my leg. Absently, I scratch between his ears while I replay the conversation at the restaurant.
Everything had been going so well up until then. We chatted about work, about the new program Penny’s spearheading at the library and how excited she is about it, and how the new receptionist I hired at the practice is working out. We talked about Wing Fest, which is coming up at the end of the month, making guesses for which restaurant would end up winning first place. I showed her videos of Duke playing with the toy she bought him last week, a purple octopus that he sleeps with every night.
