Page 79 of Not Mine to Rescue

Honoria

Wombat texted or called me at least twenty times over a week and a half. It took me that long to meet with my therapist twice, do some deep self-searching, and decide absolutely nothing. Every time I thought, this is it, I’m going to tell him we’re done, I’d take one look at Molly and she’d whine.

Not to go out, not to come cuddle, just look at me and whine. Like she was trying to tell me something.

Then I’d change my mind and reread his texts, try to decipher if I’d hurt him or not, feel awful, make another note in my journal, and then force myself to work. The problem with that is I was all caught up. Which was absolutely unusual. There was always something to read, something to research, a case needing attention or documentation, yet I’d run out of ways to avoid the truth.

I couldn’t let him go. I didn’t want to. I should. It would be much better for my career if I did.

The meeting with Walt was tense once he found out the reason for the switch. It was such a shift it was noticeable. He’d come in, jovial and amicable. Then nodded and smiled at me, commenting how he’d bet I was as smart as his wife, Mary, maybe even smarter. I tried not to take that as a sexist remark until he admitted she probably could pass the bar exam, but had decided on a career as a paralegal. Then he mentioned her firm.

They specialized in family law. A practice we didn’t have any depth in.

No sooner than he mentioned the partners who ran it, I knew exactly who she was. And she was sharp.

I sat a little straighter, knowing he’d complimented me.

Then we filled him in on my relationship status. His forehead turned red, and he muttered something like, “That stupid motherfucker and his damn dick.”

Stephen shot his eyes to the ceiling. Bill avoided eye contact by turning his gaze toward the wall.

I met Walt’s eyes. “Is that going to be a problem?”

He stared at me until the silence was uncomfortable. Then he grinned. “Absolutely not.” His eyes dipped to my chest and back. “None whatsoever.” And his grin got bigger.

Whatever he was planning involved me, and would likely entrap Wombat.

I left as soon as I could to warn him, but Walt had been there first.

Wombat took one look and walked away from both of us.

Which was a rejection, plain and simple. Which also was the reason I hadn’t answered any of his calls or messages since then. I glanced at the phone in my hand, noting that the last message was yesterday.

“Molly? What do you think?”

Her ears perked up, and all her attention was on me. A puff of commentary was her reply. Then she climbed off her bed and ran up the ramp to join me on my bed. With two left turns, a right, then another left, she found the right spot to plop down and shove her snout under my elbow. I scratched behind her ears with both hands.

The phone vibrated against my leg, so I checked the display.

“It’s Wombat.”

Molly was almost more excited than I was. She stood up, tail wagging, and barked as I answered the phone. “Molly shush.”

She didn’t.

“Hey.” Wombat’s voice was intimate and almost too soft to hear over Molly’s ruckus. But no sooner than he spoke, she quirked an ear toward the device in my hand.

“Hey.” It wasn’t a great reply, but I didn’t know what else I should say.

Molly barked again.

“And hello to you, too, Molly-collie.” That got her going. She twisted in circles and dropped to the mattress in a roll that exposed her belly. I scratched it so she’d calm down.

“She’s excited to hear your voice,” I relayed to Wombat.

“She’s always excited. Lemon said you wanted to talk.”

I took a deep breath. “I… you called. And texted.”