“That’s not what Nolan says,” Andrew muttered.
“Excuseme?” The fact that he and Nolan talked about me raised my hackles.
“Nothing. So what about my rules for this arrangement? Am I allowed to have any?”
I finally took a step away from him and gestured dramatically. “Please, feel free to lay yours out as well.”
Andrew finally looked away from my face and it was only when I saw his puffs of breath in the air that I realized how cold it was. My white-hot anger had been doing a fine job keeping me warm.
His frown deepened. “Okay, I don’t have any yet. It’s too earlyto know exactly how you’re going to drive me insane. But I’ll be sure to keep you posted.”
“Yeah, you do that,” I snarked back, wrinkling my nose at him for emphasis.
Andrew had the nerve to shake his head at me. “I forgot what a pain in the ass you are.”
“Oh, trust me,” I shot back, “I couldneverforget how annoying you are.”
“Huh.” Andrew tilted his head as the corner of his mouth turned up. “Guess that means you think of me.”
I wanted to scream at his presumption.
I spun on my heel to speed-walk back to my car, my face burning with the realization that Andrew Gibson had won again.
chapter five
A new puppy? Oh, Chels, that’s great! When can I meet him? Maybe I can stop over later? I’m going to be in town after my book club this afternoon—”
I cut my mom off before she could get too deep into her planning. “I’ve got a couple of back-to-school pop-up classes today that I need to prep for. You know how busy September is for me.”
“I do, I do,” she answered quickly. “You work so hard. Too hard, sweetheart.”
The conversation was about to unfold like we were following a map. My mom telling me I needed to hire someone to help me so I could get away from Frolic more often, and complaining that she didn’t get to see me enough. Inviting me over for dinner in the hopes that we could go over “a few loose ends” that felt more like leaden anchors.
The window ledge was an uncomfortable perch, but I wasn’t about to settle on the couch. I didn’t have time for a long chat with my mom, and I liked looking out the window as we talked, listening to her cheerful chatter as I watched the world go by. Three stories above the main intersection in town meant that Icould see eight sidewalks and all of the dramas that played out on them.
“It’s a girl, by the way,” I said, leaning my head against the glass and watching as a guy in a suit tripped, then looked around like he’d been pushed. “Edith.”
“What is?”
“The puppy is a girl,” I said, glancing back at where she was pouncing on Birdie’s gently wagging tail. “You called her a boy. I’ll send you a picture. She’s perfect.”
“A new granddog!” she trilled.
At the rate I was going it was the only type of “grand” she’d ever get out of me. Thankfully Taylor would be giving her a human one, a boy, in January, to welcome the new year with hope for the future. That baby was about to be loved harder and better than any child in history. I couldn’t wait to be an aunt.
“How are you going to handle Edith with work?” she continued. “Do you need my help? I could watch her if you like.”
It was a tempting offer. My mom had given me my early education with our family dogs. She’d never taken classes; it was just her tendency for kindness and patience with every living thing that made her shockingly good at puppy rearing and training.
“No, I should be okay,” I lied. I still wasn’t sure how I was going to juggle a roomful of people and dogs with a puppy who seemed to think that being in a crate necessitated a nonstop loop of editorial barking. I’d spent my two days off working on crate training to get her ready to go to school with me, but our progress was depressing for someone who was supposed to have all the answers.
“Hey, I was going through closets and I found some photos Ithought you might like to see. Want me to leave them in an envelope in your mailbox?”
“I’ll swing by at some point and check them out,” I replied quickly, because I knew that they had to be photos of Dad.
I closed my eyes. When would I stop being such a jerk?
Normal people would welcome the chance to reminisce about a lost loved one. Me? I still couldn’t get past the choices he’d made as the end came rushing toward him. When I thought about my dad my anger somehow eclipsed my grief, and I knew that it was the wrong emotion. No one could figure out what to do with it, or me, so I buried my feelings to seem like I was processing the loss the proper way. People understood sadness when dealing with death. They knew which platitudes to say back to a weepy mourner. But my reaction to the loss of my father didn’t make sense to anyone else, so I kept it to myself.
