The next day, I’m hanging out by the deep end of the pool, my shades on, wearing a short-sleeved button-down that’s safe for work since mytattoo has faded, and surveying the scene as Zuri hands out pup-sicles for the pooches near the shallow end. The sun is shining brightly, the dogs are splish-splashing in the pool, and the place is packed. Every pool chair is occupied—and everyone has their phone out, snapping pics and videos of the dogs. Easily a hundred—maybe two hundred—people are here today, with their pets cannonballing into the cool water so they can chill out on a hot August day.
Hazel and Levi are in their element, tending to the no-ball zone around Jubilee, who sits properly in a lawn chair, her handler by her side, under an umbrella, a few feet from the lifeguard stand by the deep end. Corinne keeps a hand on the chair, ready to snatch the star from harm if need be, but also gives her the space she needs as the guest of honor. A line snakes around the deep end of fans patiently waiting for a chance for a picture.
A photographer I hired for the event snaps pics of people with Jubilee—the guy who owns the bookstore, Delilah from the tattoo parlor, Callie, the manager of Pick Me Up, and even Dottie Birch from The Horny House, who flashes the biggest smile I’ve ever seen, then hands the cutie back to Corinne.
Chloe weaves past some people in line and moves next to me. “This is going great,” she whispers to me as dogs paddle in the water, chasing rope toys and Frisbees, while others cavort around the edge of the glistening blue water, waiting for a turn to dive back in.
Briefly, I wonder if Jubilee wants to take a dip. But that doesn’t seem like her thing. She’s content to sit and pose. As Katrina from The Sweet Spot slides next to Jubilee for a pic, I say to Chloe, “It’s unbelievable.”
She flashes me a knowing grin as I useour wordfrom the first night we met. She’s unbelievable. What we’ve built is unbelievable. That we’ve made this work is unbelievable.
And, fuck it, I rest a hand on her back. Feels good. Feels right. So good and so right, I steal the chance to swipe a strand of hair from her cheek and tuck it behind her ear.
But when I let go, my gaze lands on blond hair, a spray tan, and an asshole grin.
Chloe’s ex. He’s strutting into the pool area, eyes locked on us.
He’s with that dog trainer who nearly got the job.
34
BELLY FLOP
CHLOE
Seriously?
He’shere? But my eyes don’t lie. That’s August, wearing beige linen shorts and a blue linen shirt, like he picked them out of a Hamptons summer-wear catalogue for budding executives.
When he’s anything but.
He’s a daddy’s boy, and I don’t know what I ever saw in him. He’s like exhibit A for a woman who has a terrible track record. My greatest regret is heading my way, striding around the pool, past the lifeguard stands as dogs belly flop into the water, chasing tennis balls thrown by their owners, several feet from Jubilee.
Except, wait. August isn’t heading toward me. He’s beelining for…Alexandra, who’s wearing a wide-brimmed hat and shades the size of plates. Wearing slacks and espadrilles, she types on her phone in a chair under an umbrella several feet away from Jubilee and Corinne. Probably making business decision after business decision while also making sure Jubilee doesn’t jump in the pool. Poorna mentioned to me it’s not good for the dog’s rep as a perfectly well-behaved pooch. I’ve been keeping an eye on her too. But now I’m distracted by my ex.
“What the fuck?” I mutter.
Sawyer’s hand flies to my back, possessively. It’s reassuring. “Want me to get rid of him?”
I love that he offers. Truly, it sends a zing down my spine. But I can’t do that. Can I?
No. No. No. I can’t.
“I wish,” I say, sighing heavily. “But I guess he has a right to be here.”
And he’s exercising the hell out of that right, striding right up to Alexandra.
They’re close by, so I listen in. “Ms. Bourbon, what a pleasure to meet you. You remember my colleague Hallie Vance, and we have a fantastic proposition for you.”
“Who are you?” Alexandra asks.
And I love that she’s so…chilly.
Go, ice queen.
“Oh excuse me,” he says, flustered. Right. Because he was never that good at anything. Not planning events and not being a husband. Why, universe, why did I marry him?
It was a dare. You were having fun.
