“How would you know that?” I interrupt.
“He was on The Suitorette, and I watched that.”
“You’re making a determination of a person’s character based on the skills of a television editor?”
“I guess you have a point. But he does seem nice.”
“I’m glad for him. It doesn’t mean he’s good enough for you.”
Bexley sighs. “Oh, little brother. In your eyes, no one will ever be good enough for me.”
“No,” I agree. “And it’s the same way for you.”
“Do you think that’s what our problem is? We’re trying to find someone to live up to the high expectations of each other?”
“No, your problem is that you come up with insane ideas like going on a reality dating show.”
“But it’s Grayson.” I don’t like the way she sighs when she says his name. “Do you think he’ll like me?”
“Bexley, you’re a lot of things, but stupid isn’t one of them. Of course he’ll like you. He’ll fall in love with you.”
And that would be the problem because I’ll have to watch when he breaks her heart.
6
Rachel
I don’t knowif it’s the fire or Demi’s wishful thinking, but things shift within me. Like getting rid of Bartlett has opened up extra space.
IMarie Kondo’dmyself. I got rid of the things that don’t bring me joy.
Bartlett no longer brings me joy. Liv no longer brings me joy. Off they go.
I wake up early on Monday morning and take Rusty for a solo walk. He loves the company of the other dogs, but I like to think he prefers when it’s only me and him, especially when there are treats involved.
I wonder if I would have gotten over Bartlett quicker if he hadn’t stolen my dog. Granted, we started out sharing him, but Bandy wasmydog at the time of the break-up.
We’d always had a somewhat volatile relationship, but after Bartlett cheated on me with a work colleague, things got very nasty very fast. And the main topic of the fights was custody of Bandy, the cockapoo we adopted on our first anniversary. I chose not to return the dog from a walk in the park, which coincided with me moving off Biba’s couch into my own place, so Bartlett had no idea how to find me. It was short-lived—he tracked me down two days later and came for Bandy, along with paperwork suing me for custody. Of a dog. He was a second-year associate in a swanky Bay Street law firm; I was a struggling graphic artist. It wasn’t a fair fight, and my dwindling bank account forced me to give up my sweet dog.
It was hard to let love slide into indifference when I had a voodoo doll with Bartlett’s bright blond hair that I routinely stabbed kitchen skewers into.
But it’s time to give up that anger. It burned away, along with his Osgoode sweatshirt.
It’s too nice of a morning to waste on Bartlett.
I find Boen locking his door as I return back with Rusty. “Good morning,” I call, cutting across his lawn to get to my door.
He turns at the sound of my voice, and for a moment I think he’s about to smile, but then his gaze lights on Rusty pulling eagerly to say hello, and everything about Boen goes tense. He even jumps to the side of his doorstep, as far away from me as possible.
That sort of spoils my mood.
“Hello,” he mutters, hoisting his bag over his shoulder. “I have to get to work.”
Khakis again, but this time he’s wearing a blue button-up with a tie. When I get close enough, I see it’s covered with green anchors. At least he’s wearing a suitably cool pair of Vans Old Skool sneakers.
“No PD day today?” I ask, trying to keep my gaze away from the khakis. There aren’t many men who look good in them, but Boen happens to be one of them.
I wonder how to get a backside view.
