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She disappears again.

Clint stares after her. “She’s been like this since morning.”

“Effective?”

“I was thinking scary.”

“But also, effective.”

He nods. “I better get back to it.”

“Me too,” I say. “I’m going to take the dogs home and get some work done.”

His eyebrows lift. “It’s our soft opening, babe. You can take a break.”

“You’re not the only one with a business to run. Those walls aren’t going to fill themselves.”

My art business is not large or flashy. Just the pizza joint walls, a clean website Jessica helped me build, and a work schedule I guard with the fanaticism of a man who knows the risks of procrastination.

But it is mine, like the pizzas are his. We respect each other’s things.

“Tonight?” he asks.

“My place,” I say. “I think Baxter and Barret would go crazy in a pepperoni-scented apartment.”

“Good thinking.”

A worker calls his name from down the line, and Clint steps backward, already being pulled into the heat again. He blows me a kiss with two floury fingers.

“Love you.”

“Love you more,” I say. “Mucho más.”

He grins, then turns back to the ovens, already issuing orders.

I watch for one more breath, then I let him have his kitchen.

Outside, Lenny has both leashes in one hand and a crust in the other. Baxter and Barret sit at his feet looking up expectantly.

“No,” I say.

All three of them look guilty. Lenny hides the crust behind his back. “We were just talking.”

“You were feeding my dogs crust.”

“You have no proof.”

Dee snorts from the table. “He gave ’em three, Paul.”

“Dee’s always struggled with numbers.”

Dee glares at him. “She’s struggling not to kick your bony ass into the street.”

I take the leashes before Baxter decides he’s moving to Riverview.

Lenny pats Barret’s head. “They were perfect gentlemen. Barret says he’s being emotionally underfed.”

“Barret lies.”