“Cookie?” she asks in confusion.
“My dog.”
This earns me a smile and a nod. “Ah yes, the anxious dog. I look forward to meeting her.”
After throwing me another glance that I feel down to my toes, she takes off, slipping into the crowd. My mouth still feels her soft skin beneath it.
“What was that all about?” Liam asks as he steers me toward the stage, where the guys are getting set up. He knows that Nora and I have historically struggled to get along.
“We had a good talk,” I hedge. “I’ve been trying to”—I shrug—“make peace.”
We’re only about fifteen feet from the stage when I feel a wash of dizziness. I stagger to a stop. My stomach is crawling at the thought of getting up on the stage. Especially since the cafeteria slop chicken isn’t sitting right. “Nah, I need to go puke first.”
He huffs a laugh but shifts without complaint, heading back toward the exit to the hallway. “Yeah, how could I forget the great Cormac Peebles tradition.”
“It’s definitely better than if it happened onstage. Could you imagine?”
“Yes, and now I’ll never cheer you on from the front row.”
As if he would anyway. Liam’s like me, a person who’s usually more comfortable by himself, or with people who accept that he’ll never willingly be in the front row for anything.
“How’d you convince Nora to dog-sit for you?” he asks as we step into the hallway, the door swinging shut behind us. “Has she met Cookie?”
“No,” I reply with a smile. “Otherwise, I don’t think she would have made the offer. But I wasn’t sure what to do next weekend, so I’m not about to turn her down.”
My father usually dog-sits for me. Cookie is accustomed to him, and he is accustomed to Cookie. But my dad will be away on a two-week-long honeymoon with his new wife. They’ve been very cagey about where they’re going, as if they’re worried someone might burst in on them.
Then again, I suppose I did encourage my dad to rethink the whole marriage plan.
All my dad said was that I had his phone number, but he would prefer that I didn’t overuse it.
Knowing my father, I doubt the secret location is Paris or Bruges. He’s too practical for a vacation like that—or at least too practical to plan such a thing without at least a year of advance notice. Maybe it doesn’t matter where they go. I suspect they’ll find entertainment enough in each other, something I’ve never experienced with one of my exes.
I’ve had a couple of serious girlfriends, but my relationships always end the same way. With accusations about my character and assumptions that are usually incorrect.
Yes, I did forget Rebecca’s birthday, but when she told me it was okay, and that she’d prefer to go out with her friends anyway, I thought I had the go-ahead to schedule a meeting.
And I “heard what I wanted to” when she told me she understood why I get so sucked into my work I don’t remember other people exist.
Maybe Nora really can help me understand women, because I don’t have a good track record. To tell the truth, some days, I feel like I don’t understand anyone.
Liam laughs, and I remember we’re in the middle of a conversation. “Well, well, she’s about to get a Peebles trial by fire.”
“Cookie’s not so bad,” I say out of loyalty.
“And hell is just a sauna.” We’ve reached the bathroom door, but he hesitates, which seems odd. I can’t imagine he wants to go inside and listen to me dry-heave.
“Do you need to use the bathroom first?”
He shakes his head, staring off into the distance for a moment, then says, “I’m getting married, man.”
“What’s that have to do with using the bathroom?”
“Nothing,” he says with a laugh. “I stalked you here to tell you.”
Oh. Crap, that probably should have been obvious. It would have been if I weren’t so flustered about Nora.
“To Briar?” I ask.
