“V! We were listening! Was he being inappropriate?” Caroline followed me, and I knew Harley was right on her heels. They were like a single entity these days, always together, always in the same damn breathing space, like they couldn’t bear to be apart. Once I thought I knew what that was like, but that’s the thing about men. They can make us believe anything.
“V, you want me to deck him?”
I poured a large glass of wine and leaned against the counter, taking a deep gulp before answering. Why was I so unnerved? Or was it just that my emotions were still so fucked after Ted, that I was just overreacting to everything?
“Maybe I misunderstood him. I heard what sounded like bedclothes moving, and I made an assumption. I’m a fucking mess these days. Maybe it was me, after all.”
Harley grinned. “Might deck him anyway, just for fun.”
“Harley!” Caroline giggled appropriately, but now the guilt was riding me. He’d sounded so pissed off just before he ended that call with me. He was new to having a puppy, and he hadn’t been able to plan for her arrival, what with rescuing her like that. Maybe he really was that clueless, and I’d just jumped all over him for no reason.
“Is he a decent guy?” I asked Harley, watching him kiss Caroline’s hair as she hugged him. Something inside me ached at the sweetness of the gesture. At the comfort of being two people so into each other, so comfortable with each other, that it was just a natural thing to do. As natural as breathing. I thought Ihad that once, didn’t I? It was all a lie. A cruel lie. But that didn’t mean that Rocket was like Ted. It didn’t mean that he couldn’t be genuine about things.
“He’s decent as far as I can tell. He’s had a rough time too, relationship wise, so maybe the two of you shouldn’t interact too much. It’s like throwing combatants into the ring to watch them kill each other.”
I found myself smiling at the ridiculous analogy, but that guilt was eating at me more and more.
“Can you give me his number please? I just want to drop him a message and apologise. I know better than anyone that my attitude fucking sucks lately. Besides, then he can reach out if he has more puppy worries.”
“Still can’t believe he’s got a secret fucking dog,” Harley grumbled, as he dug out his phone, and read out the number for me. I entered it into my phone, and saved it, opening up a text message on my screen.
“He doesn’t have a secret dog. He rescued her from an abuser tonight, and ran straight to the nearest vet, which just happened to be the one I’m slumming it at.” I was already moving idly from the room, toward my temporary bedroom as I spoke, tapping in a message for Rocket, which I hoped he’d read before he judged me too hard.
Me: It’s V. I’m sorry about jumping to a stupid conclusion on the phone. I’m used to being around a dickish man, but I know that’s not you. So I’m apologising, which is pretty big of me, when you think about it.
Why was I smiling at my phone like an idiot? I probably sounded like an asshole, but then if he could follow my twisted sense of humour, maybe he’d be fun to chat with now and then.
I could do with friends here, couldn’t I? I’d left everything behind, several hours away, in a town I thought would be my home for the rest of my days. Starting from scratch was terrifying, and exhausting. Screw that, it was heartbreaking. It was like being a fucking kid again, and I hated it. It had been months and I was still at my aunt’s, trying to rebuild my life while the divorce went through.
He wasn’t responding to the message, and that both annoyed and saddened me. Had I sent away my first potential friend, because of one stupid comment?
I was in bed by the time my phone dinged, and I looked at it blearily, since I’d been in the midst of falling asleep in a book.
Rocket: I’m not saying I’m *not* a dick. Just I’m not him. Thanks though. It was big of you to admit how wrong you were. Kinda like it’s even bigger of me to accept your apology.
I found myself smiling as I read the message, and reread it several times. Not only did he get my attempt at humour, but he threw it right back at me. I sat up properly against the pillows, checking the time on the phone. It wasn’t even ten thirty, so what a lightweight I was for being in bed already. Truthfully I adored my cousin, and I was happy as hell for her that she’d found a man who seemed to treat her right, but it also hurt to see them happy, when I’d had that, and lost it. Or probably never had it, but just thought I did.
Me: I’m lucky you’re such a big man, and even though you *have* a dick, I won’t hold that against you. For now. How’s the pup doing?
I chewed on the inside of my cheek as I watched the phone for a reply, grinning when it appeared. It wasn’t a message withwords. It was an attempt at a picture of the pup, who’d raised her nose so close to the screen that it was mostly a blur with nostrils. I was still laughing when a second one appeared. It was Rocket attempting to take a selfie with her, although she was too busy trying to lick his ear. The look on his face was a mix of horror and hilarity, and oddly charming at the same time. The most distracting part was the fact that he was shirtless, revealing a brightly coloured torso that seemed like it needed closer perusal with all that ink. I couldn’t make out any of the tattoos as the picture was a little blurry, probably because he was wriggling in response to a puppy tongue in his ear.
Me: Are you shirtless? Trying to entice me?
As soon as I sent it, I facepalmed, mentally at least. He’d assume I was hitting on him again, but I wasn’t. Was I? Wasn’t I a woman with eyes? Wasn’t he a man with what looked like a fine body? It was a biological function, to notice his physique. The whole woman seeking a suitable mate and sperm donor thing. Not that I was doing that. God no. Most likely no.
Rocket: Woman, I’m just a piece of meat to you. Here I am, being all adorable with Baby, and all you care about is my man nipples.
I definitely did NOT zoom in on the pic to look for them. I swear I didn’t.
Me: Wait, you were in the picture too? I swear all I saw was the beautiful puppy, who you absolutely can *not* name Baby, dammit.
I could almost hear that chuckle of his, and I’d met the guy twice total. How the hell was his laugh in my head, living rent free like a little usurper of my good sense?
Rocket: She IS my baby, so it’s perfect. And I think she likes it.
Rocket: Fuck. Hang on.
I fell asleep again waiting for the message that I thought would come after that. The words ‘hang on’ suggest a person is returning, but he didn’t. Typical man.
