“I have no idea what he’s talking about,” Blake said. “But he kinda makes sense.”
“He does,” I said. “Unfortunately.”
“Goody,” Tony said. “Let’s go to the beach.” He gazed at me in a way that I remembered. It made me slightly uncomfortable.
“You want me to watch Rosie until you get back?” Blake asked. “If it gets late, I can always bring her to my place.”
I thought about it for five seconds, then told him it was okay. I’d bring Rosie with me. Blake said it wasn’t any trouble, but I said, “No, thank you, Blake.” I reattached Rosie’s leash. “Rosie loves the beach,” I added. It was not true. She wasn’t a swimmer, and digging in the sand tired her out. Plus, she had no learning curve when it came to drinking ocean water, which was frustrating for both the dog and myself.
The real truth was this: I wanted a chaperone.
Fourteen
“Alone at last,” Tony said, once we were in my car and buckled up.
“Not really,” I said. “Rosie’s here.”
Rosie left her spot on the backseat and crawled into Tony’s Zegna-clad lap. My chaperone. I realized that before today, Tony had never laid eyes on Rosie. Our hook-ups had all taken place when I was in New York or L.A. on business. And even though I may have shown him pictures of my dog (I showed everybody pictures of my dog), it would have been the previous Rosie he’d seen. I’d barely been in contact with him since Rosie I had passed.
“I hope your dog doesn’t shed,” Tony said.
I took my hand from the ignition key. “That’s all you’re going to say about her?”
“What else is there to say?”
“Well, starting with the obvious,” I said. “She’s the most adorable creature on the planet.”
“Next to her owner.” Tony smiled. He had a killer smile, which no doubt helped him close many a deal back in Hollywood.
He wasn’t going to close this one, though.
“Thanks, Antoine.” I started up the car and pulled out into traffic. My GPS told me I had two miles before I-93 N. I could feel Tony’s gaze on me. For the tiniest moment, I remembered what it felt like when that gaze was a type of prelude.
“So, what’s your timetable?” Tony asked.
“You mean, as far as finding Book Babe?”
“No,” he said. “As far as marrying Richie.”
I turned to him. “We don’t have a date set,” I said.
“That’s interesting.”
“Why?”
Tony shrugged. “You were married to him before.”
“And?”
“Well, it’s not like you need to get to know him better,” he said. “I mean, a second engagement is usually more of a technicality.”
I exhaled. “Richie lives in Asbury Park now,” I said.
“New Jersey?”
“One and the same.”
“What’s he doing out there?”
