I have to laugh at that. “So it’s a he.”
“Yes, and I’m actually terrified he’s going to pee on your grandmother’s carpet. I saw a patio out there, you think we could give him a few minutes to run around the backyard?”
“Sure. Although we prefer to call it the lanai,” I joke, motioning for him to follow me. “You know, from Golden Girls?” I add at his blank expression. He shrugs, and sigh, men. “Never mind.”
The dog takes off at a tear as soon as I open the sliding glass door, sprinting in circles around the backyard while Jack and I settle into a couple of side-by-side lounge chairs. Thankfully, our mild fall seems to be hanging on, so the two of us can actually sit outside without freezing to death.
“So let’s start with the big stuff first.” I level him with a stern gaze, and he nods, seeming to brace himself. “Explain the dog.”
He drops his chin to his chest and exhales a laugh, shaking his head. “It was Tom’s doing. After everything . . . happened, I sort of shut down. I worked nonstop but never really left my apartment otherwise. And then once the deal went through, I really never left. Tom got frustrated with me, and one night he showed up and said he was taking me somewhere. I assumed he meant out to some bar, but instead he walked me to an animal shelter. Said he was sick of my shit and I needed a lifestyle change.” He grins at the puppy running in frenzied figure eights around the lawn. “And he was right. I should’ve done it years ago.”
“Unconditional love.” I smile at him. “A pet actually seems like the perfect thing for you. Just what you needed.” I guess this must be what Tom was referring to when he mentioned he was “keeping him busy.” I beam him a silent thank-you for choosing puppies over strippers. “What kind of dog is he?”
“They think mostly Chesapeake Bay retriever, but with a bunch of other stuff mixed in.” As if he can hear us talking about him, the pup races over to jump up on Jack, and he scoops him up. “I did a dog DNA test, but the results haven’t come back yet.”
“Of course you did.” He is an adorable dog dad. “Does said puppy have a name?” I reach out with grabby hands and Jack passes him into my outstretched arms.
He clears his throat. “It’s Asher, but I’ve been calling him Ash.”
“Like the color? That’s fitting.” I scratch my fingernails through his smoky gray fur and hug him to my cheek, because the presence of a puppy means compulsory snuggling. I don’t make the rules.
Jack watches the two of us with a lopsided smile. “Also like the tennis stadium.”
It takes me a moment to connect the dots. “You mean Arthur Ashe?” He smirks at my shock. “You named your dog after the location of our first date?”
He nods, eyeing me, as though monitoring my reaction to that piece of information.
My cheeks are baking as I lift up one of Ash’s floppy ears. “Your human sounds a little lovesick,” I stage-whisper into it.
“A lot lovesick, actually.”
Our eyes meet over Ash’s head, and I can feel my resolve weakening the longer I look at him, the intensity of my anger fading in the face of the overwhelming pull I feel toward him. The one I’ve always felt.
But no. No.
“If that’s really true, then how could you have left me the way you did?” I demand, finally blurting out what I’ve wanted to ask since I saw him in the kitchen with Gran—or actually, what I’ve been wondering for the past six weeks. “You abandoned me in that hotel room, Jack. The world was crashing down around us and at the first sign of trouble, you bailed on me. You vanished without a trace! After we’d . . .” My voice falters, and I shake my head and look away. “You never even checked to see if I was okay. You don’t do that to someone you love.”
He audibly swallows. “You’re right. I screwed up. It was a mistake.”
“A mistake?” I exclaim, incredulous. Sixth-sensing my change in demeanor, Ash escapes the line of fire by wriggling out of my arms and bolting. Smart dog. “A mistake is forgetting to text me when you’re running late, not going AWOL for six weeks!”
“Six weeks and two days, actually. I counted every one.”
I throw up my hands, exasperated by this man’s contradictions. “I don’t understand you!”
He raises a placating hand. “I’m going to explain myself, but I want you to know that I know there’s no excuse for what I did. I got confused and I panicked, but that doesn’t justify my behavior. I handled things the worst possible way I could have. And I’m so sorry for that, Cassie.” He rakes a hand through his hair, his features twisted with regret. “I can only imagine what you must have thought of me. And then when I found out what you’ve been dealing with here . . . it makes me sick to think about it.”
He does, indeed, look sick. And you know what? I’m not mad about it. I’ve been agitating in an emotional spin cycle for the past month and a half, so it’s nice to see he’s not as impervious as I’d imagined. And as apologies go, he’s off to a strong start, at least. Admission of guilt: check. Taking responsibility: double check.
I’m as magnanimous as a saint when I raise my chin and say, “Go on.”
He coughs nervously. “So for this to make any sense, I have to tell you about an ex-girlfriend.”
Hold up, what? I make a face like he’s just presented me with two-week-old rotting fish. I’m no longer a sensitive, peaceful empath. I’m a hardened street fighter ready to take up arms on the battlefield of love. I will crush my competition with nothing but a nail file and force of will.
“She was my first serious girlfriend, actually. Met her in college, and I was all in. I built her up to be everything. I thought she was ‘The One,’？” he says with a healthy dose of disdain, and I relax a skosh, mentally sheathing my sword. Threat neutralized. “In retrospect, I was clearly searching for the relationship stability I never had growing up. Not that I could see that at the time.” He huffs a short breath. “Anyway, she wasn’t as serious as I was, apparently, because two years in I found out she’d been cheating on me.”
My jaw drops open. How dare this jezebel?! Outrage burns through me on his behalf and I’m seriously reconsidering my cease-fire.
“She knew about my parents, so the betrayal felt that much worse. I was angry and hurt, and I felt so fucking stupid. I was so certain I’d never cheat that it never occurred to me she would. It messed me up for a long time.” He shakes his head, as if to cast off the bad memories. “This was around the time we’d started Brawler, so I threw myself into it and never looked back. And I promised myself I’d never let a woman make a fool of me like that again.”
My stomach twists into a sailor’s knot as I start to grasp exactly where all this is headed.
“So fast-forward to a few months ago,” he continues. “Things were going well for me; better than they’d ever been, in fact. Brawler was doing well, and the deal was coming together. I’d met you. I thought I’d finally found the girl.” We lock eyes, and his expression is so wistful—longing—that I lose my breath. “It felt like the next chapter, like everything I ever wanted was within my reach.” He pauses. “And then I found out you’d been lying to me.