Josh pulled himself away from the past, chastising himself for missing the moment when Justin and Amber were pronounced man and wife. Later, his mother would put on the mantel in the living room a framed picture of the two of them taken moments after their first kiss. In it, Justin was giving Amber a pointed smile meant just for her, one that seemed to say that they were the only two people on earth and that he couldn’t possibly fathom living without her.
When Josh held the heavy silver frame in his hand and looked at the picture, it would not conjure memories of his own wedding day. The only image of Kimmy he could think of would be when he’d looked at her one day and realized that maybe he wanted more than just a world of him and Kimmy and that maybe he’d made a mistake.
* * *
At the reception, his brother James delivered a rousing toast to Justin and his bride after dinner. Josh’s arm rested on the empty chair next to him; Sasha was sprawled across his lap, asleep. He wished he felt as hopeful as Justin looked. Mostly he felt tired. Not in the way Sasha was tired. His fatigue ran much deeper than that. His brother Jordan plopped down in the empty chair beside him and put a drink in his hand. “Looks like you’re unable to get a refill on your own. Thought I’d help out.”
“That’s why you’re my favorite brother,” Josh said.
“How are things going? I’m guessing weddings kind of suck for you right now.”
“They’re going okay.”
“Maybe it’s time to get back out there?”
“It’s only been six months. Kimmy insisted she be the one to file since it was her choice and everything. But I haven’t gotten paperwork yet and I have no idea when it’ll be a done deal.”
His brother winced. Seemed like he wanted to say something about that but thought better of it. That was another reason Jordan really was his favorite brother. “At least you’ve got some free time these days.”
Everyone said that. Because of their fifty-fifty custody split, Josh had more free time than he’d had since becoming a father. Too bad he didn’t know how to fill it. His married friends were busy with their jobs and wives and kids. The chief complaint out of everyone’s mouth was how little time they had for everything. They rushed everywhere and were bombarded with so many stimuli during their days that all they wanted to do when they got home was relax with their families, if it could even be called relaxing anymore. They were all overscheduled and burned out.
Josh did have free time. When Sasha was at Kimmy’s, he could eat whatever he wanted, watch whatever he wanted on TV, and do whatever he wanted without consulting anyone. For the first few months, it had felt like a weight had been lifted. No more tension between him and Kimmy. No more arguments with their voices low so Sasha wouldn’t realize her parents’ marriage was disintegrating right before her eyes. No more worrying about the mood Kimmy would be in when she got home from work. No more competing with her phone for attention. No more moving about the house like roommates.
But the problem with having time to fill was that he had no idea how he wanted to fill it. The last time he’d been single, he was eighteen years old.
“Get on some apps,” Jordan said.
He groaned. Everyone was always going on about the apps. Justin had met Amber on an app, and now look at them. All Josh knew was that they came with a whole new set of rules he wasn’t familiar with.
“You don’t have to marry any of these women. Just see if there’s one out there who wants to catch a movie sometime or meet up for a drink. Plus, you have needs, right?” His brother laughed like that was hysterically funny.
Sure, he had needs. But that didn’t mean he wanted to rush right out and find a woman to sleep with. That was another difference between eighteen and thirty-seven. He could delay gratification for a much longer period of time and not combust in a hormonal explosion because he wasn’t having sex.
“I changed my mind. James is my favorite brother.”
“I’m sorry, man. That wasn’t funny.”
“No biggie,” Josh said.
“Shit. I’m out of whiskey. I’ll be back,” Jordan said, patting him on the shoulder as he took off to refill his drink.
Josh’s phone vibrated with an incoming text.
Your goofball dog wanted to say goodnight, it said. There was a picture of Norton under the covers of a bed, Layla’s he presumed, and the dog’s head was on her pillow. This was not staged. I found him like this when I came into the room. No need to respond. I just wanted to let you know that everything is going fine, and Norton appears to be “settling in” quite well. Hope you’re enjoying your weekend.
Josh texted her back right away. I’d say he’s settling in fine. Don’t get any ideas about stealing my dog. I know where you live. He found himself staring at the screen, hoping she’d send another text. He smiled when she did.
You’ve uncovered my evil plan. She sent another photo. This time, Norton was wearing a cowboy hat. He wished she had sent a picture of herself next to the dog, but something told him she wouldn’t have been comfortable doing that. He wasn’t sure about her yet. He definitely found her attractive, and she couldn’t have been nicer.
But what was her story? What did she want?
What did he want?
He sent another text: I know one thing for sure. Norton’s got a new favorite dog sitter. Thanks again. I’ll be over to pick him up in the afternoon tomorrow. No later than four.
Again, he waited for her response. Sounds good. See you tomorrow was all it said.
chapter 15
Layla
On Sunday, while she was drinking her second cup of coffee, Norton at her side, Layla set down her coffee cup and reached for her phone. She googled Josh Summers, but the only thing that came up was a listing for his electrician services. He had a five-star rating on Google, it seemed. But he didn’t appear to be on social media, and neither was she. Layla had deleted her Facebook account months ago. It had seemed easier to delete it when she left Liam rather than change her marital status and deal with the avalanche of well-meaning but mostly nosy inquiries.
After lunch, Layla took Norton for a walk, and when they got back the dog followed her down to her basement studio and flopped down on the rug. She plugged the guitar into her amp and tuned it a bit until it sounded exactly the way she wanted it to.
“This is gonna get really loud,” she said to the dog. But he appeared to have already fallen asleep, and when the first thirty seconds of her playing didn’t rouse him, she let it rip.
* * *