Except I realized that his shoulder was shaking a little. Small shakes, barely trembles, but definitely real.
He was crying.
At least I knew how to handle that, because there was nohandling. I just rubbed his shoulder and sat next to him in silence until the trembles stopped.
He looked up after a minute, his eyes wet.
“Thank you, Isaac.”
“For what?”
“For not trying to make this better.”
My one talent.
“She’s all I have,” Jack went on. “I’m a too-young divorcé with a weird job and no friends, and all I have is my beautiful puppy, and that’s why I said yes to this date, you know. As much as I love MissCrumpets, this small-town life is killing me. I needmore.”
I could understand that. Big city, small town, it didn’t matter where I was, I was still me, still alone and missing Brooklyn and that had always felt fine enough. Except lately...
I didn’t know. I could easily slot myself into theneeding morecategory these days. Or just... needing Sunny.
As if he could sense where my thoughts were going, Jack turned a little to face me.
“Why didyousay yes to this date, Isaac?”
Oh. Well. “I had a great time when we were together last,” I said, and then winced a little, because obviously I’d had a great time when I’d spent a great deal of that time glazing his doughnut. “And I like you,” I added. “I think you’re funny.”
“Funny,” he repeated, his eyebrow lifted. “Most people think I’m a bitch.”
I shrugged. “Most people think I’m a sad bastard.”
“Sunny seems to find that part of you charming,” Jack said.
A pleased warmth curled in my chest. “You think she does?” I asked, and then cleared my throat. “I mean, I’m not sure. She doesn’t find it charming enough to want to be my muse.”
“You know the muse thing is bullshit, right?”
“It is not!” I said, affronted.
“Word on the street is that you’ve been writing music again,” Jack pointed out. “But you don’t have a muse right now. Ipso facto... bullshit.”
“This isn’t clean data! This music is an outlier! I found these letters with Sunny, and after reading them, I felt—well, and it’s not even the letters, it’s all the things we’ve been doing, and did she tell you about the Christmas mystery we’re trying to solve?”
“I try to avoid making casual conversation with Sunny as much as possible” was Jack’s answer.
“You’re missing out,” I told him. “She’s hilarious, and actually this whole Christmas thing has been a complete adventure, and even though sometimes I can’t even think when she’s in the mansion, because she’s just sothere, I don’t think I could live without her being there now.” I paused. “I know that’s a weird thing to say to a date, but I meant all of it in a roommate kind of way.”
“Sounded more like a ‘Pornhub roommate’ kind of way,” said Jack.
How much had Sunny told him? I didn’t want to lie, but maybe she hadn’t wanted Jack to know that we’d been very Pornhub-y?
“I’m looking for the owner of MissCrumpets Banks-Hart?” a very handsome man in a white coat called from the door.
“I’m her father,” Jack announced, shooting to his feet.
“You can come back now,” the vet said. “We’re done with the emetic... process. She’s completely in the clear, but I know she could do with a cuddle while we keep an eye on her for the next hour or two.”
Jack half-ran to the vet without looking back, and I settled in my seat, leaning my head against the wall and closing my eyes and thinking of Jack’s earlier words.
