I looked over at her to gauge how she was doing.
She rushed with her words. “Would you like me to heat you up some casserole?”
I knew she was trying to make amends for the night before, but in the big picture, she really didn’t have to. She had been fully justified. And she certainly didn’t have to wait on me. “I can heat up my own food.”
She stood up. “I insist. Come and sit down.”
I sat down because it gave me an excuse to watch her and soak all of her in. She tossed a simple salad with vinaigrette and then heated up my food for me.
“Did you take your spa day yet?”
She smiled at the thought. “Not yet. We’re waiting for Tanya’s mom to have a day off work so she can watch the baby.”
I took a sip of my drink. She stood on the other side of the island, twisting a cloth napkin in her hands.
“What is it?”
She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry for throwing the wine and for being so mean and terrible last night.”
I gave her a mild look. “I thought we decided it was deserved.”
Her lips parted in shock. “What?”
“It looked bad, and I handled it badly.”
“I think I handled it worse.”
“Already forgotten.”
She studied me for a long moment, as if to assess if I was really telling her the truth. “Thank you.” The microwave beeped, and she turned with the napkin to retrieve my food. I heard her grumble under her breath. “Still don’t love Giselle, though.”
That made me smile. “Giselle is an integral part of my business. I need to have client dinners with her.”
She presented me with a plate that smelled incredible, her expression contrite. “I know.”
“But I’d love it if you could join me more often.” The suggestion came out of me before I could stop it.
She looked surprised. “Even after I threw wine?”
“Yes.” Maybe if she saw how I interacted with Giselle, she’d stop being so concerned about her.
“How’s the food?” She interrupted my thoughts.
I took my first bite. “Really good.”
She sat beside me, but instead of returning to her book, she watched me eat.
“How have you been doing lately?” I asked, looking at her. She looked so cute with her bulky sweater and her hair piled on top of her head.
“You mean with school?”
“And dealing with your recent loss.”
I was trying to gauge where she was with Bandit.
Her eyes filled with tears. She blinked several times at the ceiling, trying to gain control of herself. Finally, she managed to speak. “I know you might think I’m overreacting, but I’m so worried about him. I can’t handle thinking he’s out there in this world, wondering where I am and why I abandoned him. My punishment is that I’ll never know if he’s safe. Does his new family love him as much as I do? These are the things that keep me up at night.”
I thought about how Bandit had been forced back into dogfights by yet another abusive owner and might not even be alive anymore. “You’re not overreacting.”
