Connall rushed around his penthouse, double checking each room. Bernadette was on her way over unexpectedly; they’d planned to meet for dinner, but she wanted to stop by early. Her text had been strange—somehow distant and rushed—but now was as good a time as any for her to become familiar with his home. After all, he wanted her to fall in love with it and eventually move in.

He hadn’t completed the finishing touches yet, but hopefully she’d be able to envision it as he could: the giant spare room toward the back would be her office, and he’d recommend a wood flooring that matched the material used in the treehouse. Of course, the entire penthouse would be upgraded with fully encrypted internet, worthy of protecting her research, and even satellite communications with the sanctuary. Live feeds and whatnot. And if she was interested, he could install satellite linked television screens in almost every room of the penthouse, so she could see those wolves whenever she wanted.

The possibilities were endless when it came to modifying his living space to accommodate her. Just as long as it wasn’t Montana.

Three curt knocks sounded on his door, and he raced to open it, heart beating like a rabbit’s. When he pulled it open, Bernadette looked less than thrilled to see him. And she wasn’t at all dressed for their fancy dinner out.

“Hey.” He held the door open, smiling. “Come in, love. It’s time for the grand tour.”

Bernadette traced her bottom lip with her tongue, her eyes on the ground. “Don’t call me that. I’m not coming in. I just came to give you something.”

Her tone made his stomach shrink to a nut, and suddenly, he realized: she was ending it. His sense about her strange text had been accurate.

“What…” He stepped aside, shaking his head slightly, as though this might encourage her to cross the threshold. “Come on. Come in, Bernadette. I don’t know what you’re talking about. We have dinner plans.”

She sniffed, her lips thin as she rummaged through her messenger bag, producing a folded packet of papers. “My father told me about the will. The one that your grandfather made about you and your brothers.” Her voice was eerily calm as she straightened out the papers. “The will that states you need to find a wife by three weeks from now, or else you’ll lose the company.”

Connall’s eyes fell to the papers in her hand, one word scrolling through his head like a marquee: fuck.

She looked up at him, shaking her head. “I’m not gonna be that woman, Connall. And I…hate…that you even thought you could use me like this.” Her voice wavered slightly. She shoved the papers at him. “And before you deny anything, just know that it’s all here. Every word of it. So I don’t want to hear any clever pandering or excuses.”

He gaped at her, clutching the papers to his chest. “Bernadette, what you’ve done is illegal. You shouldn’t have brought this here.”

“I don’t fucking care, okay?” She pressed a fingertip to the spot between her eyebrows. “Is it any worse than what you did, anyway? Acting like you liked me just so you could save your company?”

Her words hit him like a freight train. “That is not true.”

“I’d think that any relationship you started with this deadline looming was a little suspect,” she spat.

“Bernadette, what we have has nothing to do with my grandfather.” He tossed the papers away, and they fluttered slowly to the ground around him. “I didn’t start talking to you because I wanted a wife. I wanted you.”

She scoffed. “And why should I believe that?”

“Because it’s true!” The words burst out of him, leaving a wake of hot anger. This was absurd. This was more than absurd. She’d come to a thousand conclusions on her own and didn’t even want his side of the story.

“Well, you would have had a hard time convincing me to accept your marriage proposal,” she went on, her voice shaky. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed by now, but we don’t mesh. Your life and my life are as far apart as fucking Seattle and Kathmandu. Opposite ends of the world.”

“And there are ways to merge them,” Connall said, desperation clawing through him. “I have plans in place for you to resume operation of your sanctuary from here, in Seattle. We can convert the penthouse, make any modifications you see fit. And then—”

She laughed bitterly, her eyes swimming with tears. “Oh, so that’s your solution? Merging lives by me leaving mine? That’s rich.” She shook her head. “You’ll do anything to find a wife won’t you? I read about what your brothers did. Alistair was even interviewing strangers to marry him!”

“Bernadette.” His voice cracked. She’d never been so wrong about something, but her eyes betrayed a fire that he didn’t know how to put out.

“This whole thing is fucked,” she said. “I loved you. But I don’t even know who I was in love with.”

She turned on her heels and stormed away, disappearing around the corner before he could even process her words. She loves you. The first time she’d told him, but somehow he’d already known it. Because he loved her. Had since the beginning.

But love couldn’t always conquer all. And if he could ever convince her to trust him again…how would they make their lives fit together?

Connall shut the door slowly, chest drawn tight like a rubber band, ready to snap at any second.

He took the night to think things over, with plenty of whisky and loud music. Bernadette was just angry, he finally convinced himself. She’d come around.

So on Monday when he strolled back into work for the first time since beginning his Montana adventure, he had the will in one hand and a message to Bernadette open in the other. He sent the papers off to his lawyer first thing, and then finished his text: “Can we meet for lunch? I want to explain everything. You think you know the story but you don’t.”

Her response was swift. “No. Heading back to Montana now, please don’t contact again.”

The air left his body in a whoosh. He typed furiously. “Bernadette, you can’t leave things like this between us. You made up a story and ran with it. Let me tell you what really happened.”

“Last warning before being blocked,” came her response.

“I’m in love with you. None of what we feel for each other is an act. And I never had plans to propose to you within the next three weeks. That was the farthest thing from my mind. The will never factored into my decision to get to know you.”

Bernadette didn’t respond, and when he tried to send one last text a few minutes later—“I love you”—it came back as undeliverable.

Blocked.

He tossed his phone onto his desk, settling into his seat with a harrumph. He didn’t know what was more infuriating: being totally misunderstood or being blocked from becoming understood. This was all so easily resolved…if only Bernadette would listen to him.

But why should she believe you? The ugly truth of the situation sank into him like sediment in a pond. Everything is stacked against you.

Connall immersed himself in work as much as he could, conversations with his colleagues stilted and tense as he struggled to push the irritation from his mind. But he couldn’t chase it away, no matter how hard he tried. And knowing that Bernadette was probably well on her way to Montana by now made the gut punch even worse.

He never got a chance…and now his time was up.

Connall spent the next couple of days brooding and irritable. Deb looked extra sympathetic whenever she came into the office with a message and sometimes plied him with sweets. On Wednesday evening, his lawyer called.

“This thing is a doozy,” Dale said as soon as Connall answered. “I’ve got my partners looking at this will too, and…shit.”

Connall leaned back into his office chair, his stomach tensing as if he’d just eaten something that he knew was spoiled. “This doesn’t sound promising.”

“Iron clad will,” Dale breathed. “There’s no way out of this one. We’ve tried it a hundred ways. You either marry or you lose the company.”

A long sigh escaped him. Connall pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay. Thanks for the final word, Dale. I appreciate it.”

He swiped off his phone, sitting in a thick silence before pushing to his feet. Restless energy prompted him to get the fuck out of the office, but he didn’t know where to go or what he even wanted to do. He just needed to move.

He gave a curt goodbye to Deb before locking up his office and then breezed out of the building. In the parking lot, he continued past his car, his legs unable to stop.

So he walked. And walked. All while his mind roiled with possibilities, laments, wonderings, and more. What if he’d mentioned the will to Bernadette on his own terms…would she have reacted the same way? Should he find a real wife of convenience, his last ditch effort to save his company and all his dedicated employees? But what about Bernadette…could it really be over between them?

Nothing made sense, and nothing felt clear. The only thing he truly knew, down to his bones, was that he wanted Bernadette. Despite all reason, despite all obstacles.

Her reaction to his suggestion about moving in still stung. Merging lives by me leaving mine? That’s rich. He could still hear the derision in her voice, and it had lurked in the back of his mind since she’d said it. Reminding him of the sad truth: maybe their lives couldn’t mesh. They were as far opposite as Seattle and Kathmandu. Why had he ever thought she’d be content simply giving up her existence to move into his comfortable, controlled penthouse in West Seattle?

Bernadette didn’t operate by his rules, and his rules were simple: do everything possible to protect the ones he cared about. So this was a stalemate. A dead end. An affair that would end with a sigh and broken heart.

Connall buried his hands in his pockets, dodging through a wide group of pedestrians as he came up on a little shopping area. Through the store windows, an animal shelter gleamed: bright lights, wide-eyed puppies and grown cats, posters beckoning passersby to adopt a pet in need. He paused in front of the doors, something tugging him closer.

A pet. That was what he needed. Something to help him feel closer to Bernadette while he mourned her loss. Something to keep her near, even as he fought to let her go.

He would adopt a dog.

Connall pushed into the shelter, his body buzzing with the new decision. It made sense, somehow, and felt right. She might even suggest it herself.

Inside, a perky volunteer greeted him. He blurted, “I need to adopt a dog. One that looks as much like a wolf as possible.” He paused. “With a preference for an actual wolf.”

“Ooookay.” Her face lit up, and she guided him into the back of the shelter. Barks echoed off the walls. “We’re not allowed to take in wolves, but we do have litter of husky mixes who needs a forever home. They look slightly wolfish.” She sashayed down a long row of dog cages, spacious and full of toys. Puppies and dogs of all breeds and colors rolled around, yipping and gnawing. She stopped in front of a particularly large run, gesturing at some puppies inside who resembled wolves, but also balls of fluff. “But really, all modern dogs are descendants of wolves. Here they are!”

He knelt down, eyeing the dogs. Each pup had brilliantly clear eyes; some even had two differently colored eyes. Gray tufty fur, or black with white streaks. The tawny coated dog stood out the most, looking up at him with sad, blue eyes.

I understand you, pupper. You’ve been separated from the woman you love.

“That one.” He pointed toward the tawny pup, and the clerk scooped it into her arms.

“Congratulations, it’s a boy!” She grinned as she passed the puppy to him. They both climbed to their feet. Connall smiled down at the trembling pup, who looked up at him with a heartbreaking innocence.

This was the start of a new journey together. And this time, he wouldn’t lose his trusted companion.