The place doesn’t need a library since that’s basically the entire house.
More books than I can count in every room, shelves bursting with the oversize illustration and art tomes you’d expect from a talent whokeeps tearing up the world of kids’ storybooks. Elle’s library is probably worth more than my life savings.
Under any other circumstance, I’d love it here. There’s even a basement theater and a heated pool overlooking a white dock so spotless it’s unnatural.
It better. I think August must own like three large boats now.Plural.
So aesthetically, no, this isn’t anything like Brady’s place. It’s bigger and more natural. It’s missing his balmy smile and Queenie’s happy licks and a big, warm bed to crawl in with a man who gladly helps me shed my sanity.
Ugh, poor Queenie.
I miss her terribly.
And double ugh, thishouse. Brady would capture some amazing videos here for his Insta.
I can just see him outside, talking to his fans with Queenie’s tail slapping his legs, every time I glance out the window.
You want to know the shittiest thing?
I never gaveeitherof them a proper goodbye.
The lump in my throat swells until it crowds my eyeballs.
“Okay, missy,” Elle says, taking my arm and dragging me up. “That’s enough glooming for one day. We’re going out on the water, and you’re gonna smile and drink wine. Then you’re going totellme what’s going on in that pretty head.”
I snort. “Like you don’t know.”
“Eh, I know you and Playboy McFakerson broke up, and it was never real to begin with. And you’re dead set on a fake romance not meaning anything even though there’s a married girl standing right in front of you who started off in the same place.” She smiles so brightly I laugh. I’m so lucky to have her—a friend who can do pity gracefully. “But I know that isn’t the whole story front to back if you’re still this cut up about it.”
“Okay, fine. On the boat,” I promise.
“Great!” Soon, I’m trapped in her inescapable positivity as she grabs a small basket of snacks and wine and sets off for the dock.
The lake boat seems fairly modest for a yacht, nothing like the Seattle monsters that can have their own ten-person crew and helipad.
It’s a different life out here, slower and quieter. I see why they picked Tahoe to get away from Seattle’s constant energy. But Elle looks like she’s settled into her happy new life, and I’m seriously glad for her.
The wind streams her long wispy hair back from her face as we climb aboard, and the boat starts moving a few minutes later.
While Elle pops into the cabin for a chat with the captain, it gives me another chance to check my phone.
Nothing from Brady.
I mean, I wouldn’t text me either. Not after I chucked his heart in the dumpster.
Nothing from Harry, either, and that’s no big comfort.
Plenty of frantic messages from Trish and Dr. Ezzie, though, asking me about my snap decision to back out, suggesting I revisit things and maybe consider bringing Harry’s firm on as a partial stakeholder.
Fuck that entirely.
By walking away, I’m giving up on Pawsome Hearts’ survival and myself.
The clinic is Dr. Ezzie’s legacy. Her dream. Itwas, and now she’s running the risk of signing over its soul to the devil.
With my breath lodged in my lungs, I scroll through Brady’s socials too. I keep waiting for a big announcement about the end of our “relationship,” but so far there’s nothing.
Maybe he doesn’t know what to say.
