CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Shane
The next five days pass with agonizing slowness.
Being without Jake is torture, and Skyping, talking on the phone, and sexting late into the night do little to ease the pain—though, I am way more excited about dick pics than I ever thought I would be.
But then, Jake’s dick is a thing of beauty.
A thing of beauty I can’t wait to lick up and down like a lollipop as soon as he gets home.
The only thing that gets me through the long days and longer nights is the joy of dog-sitting Fifi and her baby girl, Biscuit, the only puppy still left from her litter of four. The other three puppies immediately found happy homes, but Biscuit was the runt, and is only now getting big enough to consider leaving her mama. I desperately want to adopt her, but keeping a dog baby quiet in my apartment is a challenge for just three days, let alone for any longer.
On the day I’m due to return the dogs, Adeline helps me smuggle them out of the elevator and into the back garden without getting caught, but in a long-term situation we would definitely be found out, sooner or later.
It’s a bummer, but I don’t like to dwell on negative things. Especially now, when everything else in my life is coming up roses.
On the way to Central Park, I console myself by thinking up names for the puppy I’ll get when I finally convince the HOA that animals would make our building a happier, healthier, all around better place to be. “What about Bark Twain or Harry Paw-ter?” I ask Addie, earning myself an eye roll.
“No and no,” she says, carefully hitching the dog purse where Biscuit is napping higher on her shoulder.
“Mary Puppins?”
She sighs.
“Sherlock Bones?”
“You can’t be serious,” she says, wrinkling her nose.
“Why not? And why the disdain for my brilliant suggestions? I thought you were a book nerd!”
“I am a book nerd, but that doesn’t mean I want to stick a poor animal with a name like Bark Twain or Sherlock Bones. Now Frodo or Sam, I could get behind.”
“Those are nice.” I pause for Fifi to sniff the legs of a particularly irresistible mailbox. “What about Gandalf?”
“No, not Gandalf. That’s too much for something fluffy to live up to. That would be like naming your dog Yoda. Or Dumbledore.”
“You’re right.” I shoot her a considering glance out of the corner of my eye. “It seems like you’ve put some thought into this. Does that mean Eloise is coming around to the idea of a furry companion to snuggle in her old age?”
“I think so,” Addie says with a smile. “Give me a few more weeks of cruising her by the pet store on our way to her PT appointments and you might have that HOA ally you’ve been hoping for.”
A squeal of happiness rises in my throat, but Biscuit is sleeping so I force myself to funnel my joy into a soft clap. “Oh my God, Addie, that would be so wonderful! I’ve got all my fingers crossed.”
“It’s not a done deal yet,” she warns as we make our way into the park, heading toward the odalisque behind the Met where we’re meeting Aidan and Cat to drop off the dogs. “But I think we’re safe to start making a dog baby name list.”
I spot Aidan and Cat up ahead and lift an arm. Cat, dressed in a cozy orange sweater that matches the fall leaves, waves back, but Aidan doesn’t see us coming. He’s deep in conversation with a dark-haired man in a three-piece suit, who looks like he just stepped out of an ad for expensive cologne, or luxury vehicles, or maybe artisanal bourbon. His broad shoulders lend him a manliness that could sell pricey booze handcrafted and barrel-aged in a small batch distillery.
The man has a strong profile to match his sculpted shoulders, cheekbones a super model would kill for, and he manages to project an aura of almost predatory confidence even while standing completely still. He’s the kind of man pretty that it’s hard to look away from, making me think he must be Nate, the newest consultant for MBC, the one Bash hired to take his place as the smooth, successful businessman type now that’s he’s focusing on running the show from behind the scenes.
Penny says she has no problem with her fiancé continuing to make out with other women as part of his job, but apparently Bash is a one-woman man to the core.
“What about you, Addie,” I ask as we cross the bike lane and move back onto the grass. “Would you be okay with your partner kissing other women if that was just part of his job?”
“Um, what?” she asks in a small voice.
“Like if he was a consultant for MBC. I think I would be okay with it from an intimacy standpoint—kissing doesn’t have to mean anything emotionally, you know?”
“Mm hmm,” Addie says, sliding the carrier strap off her shoulder. “Could you hold this for a second?”
“Sure.” I take the carrier and hold tighter to Fifi’s leash, determined not to let her get loose like the last time I dog sat. “But you know what I would worry about,” I say, returning to the subject at hand. “Germs. I wouldn’t want to risk catching a cold every time my boyfriend went to work.”
Cat starts toward us, leaving her husband and the man I assume to be Nate behind.
“But I guess people catch colds from clients all the time,” I continue. “You don’t have to kiss someone. They could sneeze in your direction, or touch your pen before you touch it, or accidentally take a drink out of your coffee. So I guess, I…” My words trail away as I turn to look at Addie only to find the area next to me deserted.
“Addie?” I spin in a circle, searching the crowd of people out enjoying the cool autumn afternoon, but there’s no sign of a woman with dark hair and horn-rimmed glasses wearing librarian-casual.
“Hey! There are my fur babies!” Cat stops in front of me, bending down to look inside the mesh front of the dog purse. “Aw, Biscuit is the cutest when she’s asleep! I can’t wait to get her home and give her all the kisses.”
“Did you see Adeline?” I ask, squinting toward the street.
“Yeah, but she bolted pretty fast.” Cat crouches to pet Fifi, who is practically apoplectic with joy to have her Cat back from upstate. “She knows I’m not mad about her bailing on book club after she made us read that Jane Austen addict book, right? I know she doesn’t have a lot of spare time.”
“I’m sure she does,” I murmur. “She said she was excited to see you and Aidan today, so…”
Cat stands with a shrug, cradling a grinning Fifi in her arms. “Maybe she just had somewhere to be.” She nods over her shoulder. “Have you met Nate yet?”
“The new guy? No, I haven’t.” I fall in beside her as she starts back across the grass, making a mental note to text Addie when I get home. “He and Aidan look tight.”
Cat laughs. “They’re talking tattoos. Nate has something on his back he wants redone, and cover-ups are Aidan’s crack rock. He loves taking something terrible and making it less ugly than it was before.”
“Less ugly is always good,” I agree, stomach grumbling as we pass a group of twenty-somethings sharing a bucket of fried chicken on a quilt spread out on the grass.
“Hungry?” Cat asks, chuckling.
“No, not really,” I say, wincing as my tummy rumbles again. “I’ve been fighting off a bout of food poisoning for almost a week. I’m never eating oysters ever, ever again.”
“Ugh. I hear you.” She lays a hand over her stomach. “My morning sickness was so much better while we were at Aidan’s parent’s place, but then we started home and I got sick twice on the drive back. I’m so over the first trimester. This baby better be damned cute or I’m asking for a refund for every hour I spent sipping ginger tea and thinking non-pukish thoughts.”
I smile. “Oh, it will be adorable. The most beautiful, precious, beloved baby ever, I’m sure.”
Cat smiles that softer, sweeter smile that’s become a more regular occurrence since she married the man of her dreams. “I know. I can’t wait.”
Fifi barks as if in agreement, and we both laugh.
“I know, Feefs,” Cat says, kissing her fur baby’s head. “We’re both so excited for the baby to come, aren’t we sweet girl?”
We join the men near the odalisque, and I meet Nate, who seems very nice, though a touch arrogant in a likable sort of way—which makes him perfect to take Bash’s place. I spend the next half hour chatting tattoos and dogs and babies with three perfectly entertaining grown up human beings. But the entire time, I’m a little bit sad.
I’m sad that Jake isn’t here to meet my friends and fall in love with the dogs and kiss me too often the way Aidan does Cat. I’m sad that I don’t know if he’s ever thought about getting a tattoo, or what he would get if he had to get inked tomorrow. I feel like I know him so well, but there’s still so much to learn and I’m so ready to get started.
So ready, actually, that I almost text Jake on the way home just to tell him that I miss him and can’t wait to see him and want to talk tattoos soon. But then I pass a man selling chestnuts, who has let the roasting over the open fire thing go on for a little too long. The acrid smell of burnt nutmeat puffs into my face, and a moment later the rumble in my tummy becomes a groan.
This time, I’m sick into a trashcan filled with salsa-coated wrappers from the taco stand at the end of the block. Afterward, I swipe my arm across my mouth and add tacos to the list of things I don’t want to eat any time soon.
I grab a water from one of the vendors set up along the street near the park and head for home, feeling lonelier without the dogs and more than a little pissed off at my stomach.
“You’d better be better before Jake gets back,” I mutter to the traitorous organ. “If you’re not, we’ll have to go to the doctor, and that will cut into the amount of welcome home sex we’re able to have before he has to go back to practice on Monday.”
My stomach quiets almost instantly, as if it understands the situation and the number of orgasms at risk.
I hurry home with a smile, wondering if it’s too early in the day to text Jake a picture of my panties.