Mabel spoke first. “You know dogs are a lot of responsibility, right? Walking. Feeding. Walking again.”
“I’m not a child.” She heard the snap in her voice, but she was incapable of controlling her tone at the moment. If she couldn’t have her dream house, then maybe she could have a small furry animal to love.
“Obviously you’re not,” Faith said levelly. “But you are the person who broke up with her last boyfriend for being too clingy.”
“Well, he was!”
“He asked you to put his keys and sunglasses in your purse at the movies.”
She humphed and took a swig of her Diet Coke. “I’m not a pack mule.”
“Mmm-hmm. And you’re not great at sticking with things,” Faith said. “A dog would stick with you.”
“Ah, but a dog’s not a person.” And a dog wouldn’t ask her to change anything about herself other than maybe an increased tolerance for shedding. Then the reality of her situation hit her, and she deflated. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not getting my house, and my apartment’s no place for a dog.”
The urge to put her head down on the conference table and weep overwhelmed her, but this wasn’t her first go-round with disappointment. She’d learn to live with it eventually, and until then she’d lift her chin and smile and never let on that another little crack had appeared on her heart.
Six
“What’s the problem?”
Kimmie’s shove to Thea’s shoulder wasn’t enough to move her out of the packed aisle of the Baker Center Arena. They were standing in front of the correct row, and their two empty seats were waiting for them. But sprawled in the chair next to their spots was a walking reminder of Thea’s latest heartbreak.
“What is hedoinghere?” she hissed.
Kimmie looked over Thea’s head—not hard; Kimmie was another tall, leggy type—and gasped in excitement. “Aiden Murdoch!”
Thea turned and shot her an exasperatedshut itlook, but it was too late. The guy who wasn’t destined to be her contractor smiled and lifted his hand in greeting.
“Go! We’re gonna get trampled!” This time Kimmie’s shove set her in motion, and Thea clambered awkwardly past the already seated Brick Babes and radio-station guests.
“Trade you?” Kimmie asked hopefully, again peering over her head at Aiden.
“Not on your life.” She’d rather be reminded of her lost princess house for three excruciating periods of Beaucoeur Anchors hockey than spend that time watching Kimmie giggle with Aiden.
“Hey, ladies.” The man in question leaned forward with a warm grin. “Repping the Brick tonight, I see. And in a coat this time.”
That last bit was said in an undertone for her benefit only, and she had to suppress a full-body shiver at being part of an inside joke with Aiden.
“I do learn eventually.” She shrugged out of her North Face and adjusted her oversized Brick T-shirt, tied at the back in a knot to pull it tight against her torso. Once she was settled into her seat, she leaned forward to greet Dave Chilton, who was seated on the other side of Aiden. “Hey, pal. Flying solo tonight?”
“Brought this guy as my date since Ana opted to be pregnant at home instead of pregnant in an arena full of maniacs.” Dave tilted his head toward Aiden, although his gaze didn’t budge from the Zamboni making its final pass around the ice before the game got underway.
“Just because you bought my beer doesn’t mean I’m putting out.” Aiden took a sip from his foamy plastic cup.
“Damn,” Dave said mildly, as always a master of comedic timing. Thea had admired the hilarity he and Mabel brought to their morning show for years and still couldn’t believe that she’d been able to keep up with him as his replacement cohost for a few months while the station was experimenting with some new programming. But wow, those early-morning hours hadn’t been for her. Neither was answering phones at the station, come to think of it, but it was fine for now. She’d move on sooner or later.
Okay, probably sooner.
Her arm brushed Aiden’s as she fidgeted in her seat, and she resigned herself to spending all night in close contact with the soft fabric of his sweater, which skimmed his body like a second skin. Might as well get this over with.
“Thanks again for trying to fit my pathetic budget.” She leaned close enough that they could have a semiprivate conversation. “I guess it wasn’t meant to be.” For a horrifying moment, she feared that lame cliché would make her burst into tears, but she managed to push her crushing disappointment down, down, down where she stored all life’s hurts both big and small.
He shifted his attention to her as if they weren’t in the middle of a rowdy crowd of hockey fans. “I’m sorry we couldn’t make it work. I really did want to help you get your princess house.”
Dammit. He was being so nice shewasgoing to cry. Then she was saved by a wail of distress from Dave, who was scrambling for a napkin to blot at a splotch of nuclear-orange liquid cheese that had dripped from his nachos onto his Rolling Stones 1972 North American Tour T-shirt. “Dammit!”
“No worries. I gotcha.” She pawed through her purse until she produced a stain stick. “Four months as a nanny after college taught me to never leave home without this. God forbid your favorite tour shirt gets ruined.”
