Her lips twitch. “Leave the door open so I can hear you guys.”
I impale her with my stare before shutting the door extra firmly behind me. When I turn I have a straight-line view into the kitchen, and I’m able to observe Jack for a moment without him noticing. His arms are braced against the stove’s edge, his head bent as though deep in thought, or perhaps just weary. A superhero with the weight of the world on his shoulders. There’s something so out-of-body about seeing him here in my grandmother’s kitchen, standing amongst her dated appliances. It’s incongruent, like a glitch in the matrix.
When he hears my footfalls, he straightens and turns my way, his expression determined. “Hey. Listen, I know I don’t—”
His words cut off abruptly when I walk right up to him and let myself do what I’ve been wanting to since the moment I saw him: I throw my arms around his neck and squeeze, my pride be damned.
Jack releases a guttural sound and crushes me against his chest, holding me so tightly he’s practically cutting off my air supply. But who needs air, anyway? For the first time in weeks the ache in my chest is gone, so if this is my last memory, at least I’ll die happy.
“God, I’ve missed you,” he grits out. His hand grips the back of my neck, locking me in place in the crook of his collarbone.
“This hug is not for you,” I make sure to clarify, my voice muffled by his neck . . . but while I’m here, I decide to take a deep inhale of his skin. Mmm, that’s the stuff. “It’s purely for selfish reasons.”
“I’ll take it however I can get it.” He clutches me tighter, his fingers threaded in my hair like a tether. I couldn’t escape if I tried. “I thought you were going to slam the door in my face. Either that or hit me.”
“Been thinking about it since the second I saw you. And you’re not out of the woods,” I warn, then snuggle tighter into his neck, directly contradicting my previous statement.
“I deserve it. I’ll give you as many free shots as you want.”
“Argh, you’re too pretty. I can’t have that on my conscience.”
He lets out a soft chuckle and finally pulls back slightly, freeing me a fraction so he can look into my eyes, and his tender expression turns to alarm. “You’re crying.”
It’s true, and I’ve given up trying to battle back the tears. I may as well grab a surfboard and ride the wave at this point.
“Please don’t cry,” he says, thumbing a tear from my cheek. “I have a lot of things to say to you and it’ll make it really hard for me to get through.”
“Can’t make any promises,” I snuffle. “I’ve never been much of a crier, but lately I’m like a leaky faucet.”
The dog jumps up on our legs just then, looking for attention, and we reluctantly separate so Jack can pick it up.
“So is this your wingman?” I inquire, scratching behind the pup’s soft ears.
His smile is sheepish. “Figured it’d be hard to turn away a guy with a puppy.”
“I had a feeling. Soften me up, huh? Very underhanded.”
“Hedging my bets.” He laughs as I roll my eyes. “The truth is, I don’t have the heart to crate him—but if I don’t, he destroys everything he touches. But you’ll be pleased to know my apartment isn’t looking nearly so fancy these days.”
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.”