We’d both been expecting Shiro to grow into a cute little fluffball, but he must have been younger than the veterinarian—a golf buddy of Ridge’s who drank too much, too early in the day—thought because six months later, he could put his paws on my shoulders if he stood on his back legs.And I was five feet eight in flats, which was all I ever wore because Ridge had a complex about his height and didn’t like that I could look him in the eye.My wedding shoes were ballet pumps.
There were two shelters in town, and I hoped with every atom in me that Ridge had been telling the truth about taking Shiro to one of them.If he’d simply abandoned him in a forest somewhere, I’d never find my boy.But I didn’t think he’d lied, not about that.Image meant everything to Ridge.No, he’d tell our friends that poor Shiro had been bouncing off the walls, and because both of us had work commitments, we’d surrendered him so he could find a new family with more time to exercise him.So sad, but what else were we supposed to do?
One shelter opened at eight thirty, and the other at nine—I’d checked the times twice before I deleted my browser history.At eight thirty, I’d be waiting outside the Biddeford Humane Society, ready to beg for my dog back.And if he wasn’t there, I’d speed over to Saving Paws and try not to have a coronary as I waited.
How long did Benadryl last?I’d turned off the alarm clock.
The car sounded like thunder as it started, and I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what was to come.The noose hanging from the ceiling caught my eye, and in a fit of anger, I hopped out, grabbed the pruning shears, and cut it down.To anyone else, it was just an emergency handle for closing the garage door, but I knew better.After today, there would be no more threats.No more, “If you embarrass me in public, that rope’s going around the damn mutt’s neck.”
No more.
The garage door motor rumbled to life.Why did everything seem so much louder when you were desperately trying to stay quiet?If Ridge slept through this, I’d send the makers of Benadryl a thank-you note and recommend antihistamines to all my friends.As I waited for the door to open, I fastened my seat belt and sent a message to Saylor.It was already afternoon at Camp Humphreys, and what a time for her to go on a phone-free bachelorette trip.The bride-to-be had requested “presence, not presents,” so electronic devices were banned.Saylor wouldn’t know what I’d done until it was over.
And by “over,” I meant I’d be either holed up in a motel somewhere or dead.
Me
I did it.I left Ridge.Driving out of the garage, think I’m gonna puke.
I turned off the phone and put the car in gear, but my hand was shaking so much that I got it wrong and reversed into a shelf of ski equipment.Dammit!A snowboard fell down and dented the trunk, and I winced even though I’d be ditching the Lexus as soon as possible.Ridge had once sued a valet for returning his vehicle with a scratch, and the poor guy lost his job over it.Worse, I remembered Ridge making that scratch himself when he backed into a wheelbarrow, and he’d also fired the landscaper for “leaving a hazard in an unsafe location.”The lawn.The wheelbarrow had been on the lawn.Ridge strayed onto the grass because he was checking a pimple in the rear-view instead of looking where he was going.
A sob caught in my throat as I said a final goodbye to my home.Although the past several years had been hard, the place held a few good memories too—puppy Shiro skidding around on polished floors, the tropical plants I’d lovingly tended in the conservatory, me filming my cooking blog in the bright and airy kitchen.
Right now, I had no idea whether I’d be able to return to the little niche I’d carved out.Or whether my followers would still want to watch my content once they found out my carefully curated life was a lie.I’d cast Ridge as the perfect husband because who wanted to admit their mistakes to thousands?
I couldn’t lie—there were times when I’d considered ending it all the way Ridge’s first wife had, a woman he’d painted as tragic and unstable without ever admitting the part that his actions might have played in her death.
But I chose to live.
I was taking back control, and I was going to start by rescuing Shiro.
Again.
CHAPTER3
JESSALYN
“He’s white and fluffy.Mostly, he looks like a German shepherd, but he’s thinner, and his right ear flops down when he’s tired.”I pulled out my phone, now in airplane mode.“I have a photo.See?He would have come in yesterday afternoon.”
While I was at the salon, getting plucked and waxed and primped and prodded.Heaven forbid Ridge Packer’s wife looked anything less than perfect.He’d signed me up for an anti-cellulite wrap because my thighs were “bumpy.”And even though I was ten pounds lighter now than when we got married, he still commented about my body every time we ate dinner.Not outright calling me fat, more “Did you know that carrying a little extra weight makes you twenty-eight percent more likely to die of heart disease?”and “We’re having dinner with the Benellis this weekend—do you still fit into that green dress with the gold straps?”
“I’m sorry, we don’t have a dog like that,” the girl who’d greeted me said.“The only dog that came in yesterday was a blind chihuahua.A couple more people called trying to surrender their pups, but we just don’t have the room, and we mostly take smaller dogs.Have you tried Saving Paws?They’re across town.”
“Not yet.I’ll head over there right now.”
“Did he escape from your yard?”
“Uh…” What was I supposed to say?“My husband was meant to be taking care of him.”
“Ah.”She peered closer.“Have we met before?You look kinda familiar.”
The girl had shoulder-length green hair, perfect skin, and a ring in her nose.Not a face I’d easily forget.
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Huh.Well, good luck.”
I was halfway to the door when I heard footsteps behind me.
