Page 57 of The Focal Point

But if I was honest with myself, I still missed him—so much that it hurt, almost physically. So much so that when I thought about it, when I could feel the cold emptiness in the center of my chest, I felt like throwing up.

How was that possible? The guy had shown himself to be a liar, the one thing I hated more than anything. Worse, Liam knew how I felt about people lying to me, especially those with romantic interests. He knew my history. He had said all those pretty words that had seemed the converse of my experience with Russ. And they had felt so real.

The canopy of trees above me blurred, and I dabbed at the wetness with my fingertips.

That version of Liam was the one I wanted to be real—I wanted it so badly I felt frantic and helpless in a way that made me want to scream and pull my hair out. I hadn’t, of course—I didn’t want everyone in the office to think I had gone crazy.

But the temptation was there.

The breeze picked up, and the sandwich wrapping paper on the bench beside me rustled. One side was only half eaten. I’d taken a few bites because my stomach wouldn’t leave me alone, but my usual deli favorite tasted like sandpaper.

“Ugh,” I groaned, squeezing my eyes tightly shut. Would this ever stop? Would it ever go away? Or would I miss and hate Liam equally for the rest of my days?

I knew I was being dramatic, but it seemed like reality at that moment.

Well, except for hating Liam. I couldn’t ever hate Liam, even if I wanted to. It would make this entire thing so much easier.

Lost in my thoughts, I heard the sound of running paws distantly. The rustle of butcher paper followed, and it took me a second to realize what was happening.

“Hey!”

I jerked upright to find a dog with the uneaten half of my sandwich in its jaws. Faster than a flash, my lunch disappeared down its throat, its dark eyes already on the rest. Somehow, I managed to snatch the paper and hold it to my chest, away from the pointy snout with crumbs on the nose.

A pointy snout that looked oddly familiar.

“Scout!”

The shout came before I realized why the German shepherd looked so familiar, and I looked up to see Thomas running toward me. His face was red, and he was panting like he had been sprinting as he slowed to a stop.

“Damn dog slipped his collar,” he growled. A leash attached to an empty collar hung from his hand. “Can you keep his attention?”

I nodded, holding the paper-wrapped sandwich out above Scout, but not so close he could snatch it. It kept the dog’s attention long enough for Thomas to lunge and grab him around the neck. He had the collar on in moments and tugged Scout from the bench.

Thomas sighed, rolling his eyes. “Sorry about that. I need to get that thicker collar the trainer recommended. He’s not supposed to be able to slip that one.”

“The training seems to be going well.” I couldn’t help the quip—I wasn’t exactly happy to see Liam’s CTO, although it was nice to see Scout. My sandwich safe, I reached out to give him a scratch behind the ears.

Thomas’s sideways smile told me I wasn’t far off the mark. And then awkward silence fell between us.

“It’s nice to see the sun,” he finally said.

“It is,” I agreed.

“It was weird to have that much rain.”

Again, I agreed, this time with a nod.

Another moment of awkward silence, and then Thomas sighed, his shoulders falling.

“Can I sit down?” he asked, pointing to the empty stretch of bench beside me.

I shrugged. “It’s not my bench. You can sit wherever you want.”

Thomas did sit, pulling a ball from his pocket before he did. Scout’s attention had remained on my sandwich, but it switched immediately to the toy in his owner’s hand. He was off like a shot when Tom threw it.

“Sorry about your sandwich,” he said. “I owe you another one.”

Scout gone, I settled the butcher paper-wrapped lunch on my lap. “Don’t worry about it. I wasn’t going to eat it anyway.”