“Right?” I giggled. “God, it’s good to see you. Did you really come all the way here because I sounded off in my last message?” I couldn’t even remember what the last thing I’d texted him was.
“Well…I wanted to see you, of course. But Nan’s in the hospital.”
“Oh no. What happened?” I exclaimed, feeling concerned about Ren’s grandmother. She’d always been nice to me when we were in high school, and she made the best peanut butter cookies.
“Slipped and fell off her deck, broke her hip.” He sighed, his brow furrowing with worry. “I just spent the day with her at the hospital. She insisted I leave her alone, so I’m giving her the evening free of my overzealous company.”
“How kind of you,” I said, bemused.
“I know. I’m very thoughtful.” Ren grinned. “So what are we doing tonight?”
“We could go to the Watering Hole?” I suggested, a part of me hoping we’d run into Alaric there. Wishful thinking, I knew.
“Ugh, please.” He rolled his eyes. “I’d rather stay home and pet your kitty cat.”
“He’s deadly,” I warned, remembering how Dahmer had reacted to Alaric. It had been strangely adorable to watch him try and gently shake my asshole cat off his foot. Then watching him with the stray dog, well…that had been torture.
“Exactly,” Ren deadpanned.
“I’m in the mood for carbs, anyway. You know how I get in times of stress,” I said, my stomach grumbling. “Let’s get pizza, then we’ll come back and have more mojitos.”
“Deal.”
6
Dog Gone Mad
Alaric
Irushed home and showered quickly, changing at breakneck speed. When I came downstairs, the dog followed me to the front door, his tail wagging hopefully.
I had sent his pictures to local lost and found groups, but so far, nobody had stepped forward to claim him. I even took him to a local veterinary for an appointment. He didn’t have a microchip, and the veterinary hadn’t heard of anyone missing a one-year-old Newfoundland. Dr. Han gave him a clean bill of health after a set of boosters, heartworm medicine, and a topical medication for flea and ticks, and sent us on our way.
I was still looking for his family, but less actively. The idea of him hanging around was beginning to grow on me. He seemed to want to be wherever I was; it was unusual, if not comforting. I’d grown used to having him nearby.
“I’ll be back soon, boy,” I told him, scratching behind his ear before I slipped out the door, closing it behind me and locking up.
I gunned it down highway 28 to the 401. It took me twenty-five minutes to get to Cobourg. I pulled up to the curb outside of my ex-girlfriend’s house, barely putting it in park before I jogged up the walkway, my eagerness to see Sawyer propelling me forward.
My knuckles rapped against the door, and it swung open a moment later. Cheryl stood in the doorway, her red hair hanging in a thick braid over her right shoulder, her green eyes boring into me with disdain. “You’re late.”
“By two minutes,” I retorted, cocking a brow.
She rolled her eyes, turning her head. “Sawyer! Your dad’s here!”
I heard my daughter’s footsteps as she raced down the hall from the living room, her blonde hair up in two braids over her shoulders, her green eyes sparkling with excitement. “Daddy!” she squealed, jumping. I crouched, catching her in my arms and lifting her.
“Hey, baby,” I said, hugging her. “How was your week?”
“Good!” Sawyer grinned, nuzzling into me.
“She’s got dance rehearsal tomorrow morning at eight,” Cheryl said, her lips thin. She held Sawyer’s bag for me. I reached out, taking it from her.
“I know,” I replied, setting Sawyer down so she could say her goodbyes.
“Her costume is in the bag. Please make sure you get it back to me in one piece,” she added spitefully.
“I will. Have a good weekend. We’ll see you on Sunday,” I responded, keeping my tone amiable.
