Page 24

When we got Mike to the house, Jesse helped me get him in bed, then he left to meet Becca for lunch. I was initially planning to leave, too, but I decided to stay. He wasn’t in pain but he was out of it. I wanted to make sure he was in a place to take his medications when he had to, especially the first few hours after sedation when he might be too zonked to take things on a schedule. I wish I’d thought of this ahead of time, because there wasn’t anything to do while I waited. Mike’s place was spotless like always, there was nothing to clean. I was sitting in his living room with the dog on my lap flipping through Men’s Health, the only reading material in the whole house.

I could have used one of those books Larissa had offered right now.

There was a sweater draped on the back of one of his dining room chairs. A woman’s sweater. Hers probably. I wondered how much time she spent here.

It’s funny because in my mind, she existed independent of him. I’d spent hours with her when he wasn’t there. I knew they were dating, but it didn’t fully compute because I’d never really seen them together and I couldn’t really imagine it either.

Mike and I never had the same taste in women. To be honest, Larissa was more my type than his.

She liked to read, he didn’t. She was artistic, he wasn’t. He probably couldn’t impress her with the stuff that he usually used to impress women—and those things were impressive. Mike took racing medals. He could bench-press her. Hell, he could bench-press me.

Mike typically went for athletic women. Sylvia, his longest relationship before Larissa, had been a dance instructor. The last woman he introduced us to taught Pilates. He liked people he could bike with, train with, who could run the same races as him. Larissa didn’t strike me as a turkey trot person. The two of them together seemed weird.

But he liked her. A lot. And I could definitely see why. I could see why she liked him too. Who didn’t?

Mike was the charismatic one of our group. If he had his sights on someone, nobody else stood a chance. Especially me.

I wasn’t charming or confident like he was. In even the most ideal circumstances, I was never going to be the best at selling myself and my rideshare services to a beautiful stranger—and definitely not against him. I wasn’t magnetic. I didn’t light up a room. And that night I’d been sad and tired and yes, a little cranky. By the time I was standing in front of her at that concert, I was worn out and I just wanted to go home. But I had wanted to drive her.

I hated that “irritable” was her first impression of me. I’d been like an ogre or something, scowling at this beautiful barefoot girl.

I don’t know why it bothered me so much.

I closed the magazine and tossed it on the cushion next to me, debating whether I should take a nap when someone started trying to open the front door.

I got up thinking it was going to be Donna or maybe Mike’s sister Janessa coming to check on him.

It was Larissa.

“Oh. Hey,” I said, blinking at her.

She stood there with Mike’s spare key from the planter and an overflowing brown paper bag full of groceries.

“I didn’t know you’d still be here,” she said, hoisting the bag on her hip.

“Let me get that,” I said.

She let me take the groceries and came in behind me, my dog yapping excitedly at her feet.

“Did he text you to come over?” I asked, heading to the kitchen.

“No. I just didn’t feel good leaving him home alone,” she said, closing the front door. “I didn’t know you’d be here.” She smiled down at her feet. “There he is!” The dog was bouncing, and she picked him up. “Oh, look at you! So handsome with your new haircut.”

She laughed while he licked her face and I smiled.

She held him out. “Why the diaper?”

“He’s not housebroken,” I said, setting the groceries on the counter.

She pulled him in and cradled him like a baby. “That’s okay because you’re so smart and you’re gonna learn. Yes, you are.” She looked up at me. “What are you naming him?”

“Nothing. I can’t keep him.”

Her face fell. “Why?”

“I work all day, and he needs to be walked regularly if he’s going to get housebroken.”

“Can’t you crate train him?”