“More than I made you beg?” I wink to show that I’m teasing.
His eyes drift slowly over my face, over my plaid jacket and my oversized gray sweatpants, all the way down to my dust-covered running shoes. He hesitates for a long moment. “All that stuff you said in the truck last weekend … there’s nothing wrong with wanting that in your life and being sad when you don’t have it.”
Or when you’ve lost it all, as in Tyler’s case. I’m not sure what’s worse. At least I’m only plagued by longing for something I’ve imagined but never experienced.
He’s haunted by actual memories, by real loss.
My heart sinks, and the urge to wrap my arms around him for comfort, as he did for me last weekend, is overpowering.
I don’t know how to respond, so I simply nod.
“And as far as your ex goes, you didn’t make a mistake. You left him because deep down you knew he wasn’t right for you. If he were, you wouldn’t have cared about possibilities with someone else. It’s as simple as that.”
“Maybe you’re right.” I toy with a thread on my sleeve, unable to meet his gaze as I admit with embarrassment, “But I’m beginning to think there isn’t anyone right for me.” Friends have married and divorced, and remarried again, and here I am, choosing between deadbeat dads and blind dates set up by my family.
“There is. There’s a person out there for everyone.” He pats the door frame. “If we’re lucky, maybe even two.”
I watch Tyler’s back as he walks slowly to his truck, his steps faltering … once … twice … as if he’s reconsidering leaving. But that’s just my wishful thinking. This is what I’m good at: getting caught up in fantasy.
He climbs into his truck and pulls away.
Was this impromptu visit a one-off? Or might it be something I’ll be treated to again?
I hope for the latter.
Even if it’s only as friends.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
I give Dingo’s long, velvety ears a gentle stroke. “I’ll meet you out front with the prescription. It’ll take about ten days to clear up the kennel cough and then bring him back for his Bordetella shot. It’s the only way you can avoid this.”
“You got it, Doc. Hey, before you go …” Scott Ponsford lifts his shirt to his neck with both hands, revealing a full chest of dark hair and a rash that stretches down over his round belly. “What do you think this is? It’s itchy as hell.”
“Um …” I clear my throat, caught off guard. “My guess would be an allergic reaction, but I highly recommend you go and see your doctor for a diagnosis. My expertise is with patients like Dingo here. Not humans.”
“Yeah … What could I be allergic to, though?” He grimaces at his body. “And it goes down, past my belt—”
“Definitely something to ponder with your doctor. See you out front.” With one last playful stroke over the beagle’s ear, I slip out of the exam room to the back, my palm pressed over my mouth to muffle my laughter. It’s not the first time a client has tried to hijack their pet’s appointment, looking for medical advice. Normally, they’re a bit subtler about it.
Ten minutes later, after Dingo and Scott （and Scott’s rash） are gone, I’m in the lobby, checking the mail before I head out to Jed Carling’s kennel to give his puppies their first set of shots and check on two dogs that got into a fight.
I set the utility bill in the To Pay folder behind the desk, freeing my hands to knead the sore muscle in my neck, earned after lugging Oliver and Vicki’s furniture down and up flights of stairs all day yesterday. My entire body ached when I woke up this morning, and it’s grown progressively worse as the day has gone on.
“That was the fourth new patient booked this morning. A Jack Russell named Jacqueline who hates men,” Cory declares as she drops the phone receiver on its base. “Your calendar is filling up fast. Between new clients and a bunch of procedures, next week is going to be busy.”
“That’s good for us.” I step into my rubber boots and haul my travel bag from behind the counter. “I’m heading out now.” And looking forward to coming home and curling up in my bed. The forecast is calling for this heavy rain to continue into tomorrow.
“Marie, I’ve been attached to this phone all week. I hear it ring in my sleep. Some of these people want your full résumé. Others want a rundown of everything we do here before they move their pets over. If this keeps up, we’re going to have to hire someone for the desk. At least part-time.”