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For a dog lover, there are few things quite as terrifying as the words that reveal the unthinkable.
My dog is missing.
Somewhere outside.
In the cold.
Alone.
Immediately, it feels like my stomach drops out of my body, taking my heart and my mind with it. Because it’s impossible. Uncle Joe trusted me—well, trusted Carter—with Rudy, and somehow, we’ve managed to lose him.
“I’m sure he’s hiding in the house,” I insist. “Let’s just look. Everywhere. Look everywhere.”
I can tell that Carter doesn’t agree with my assessment, but we work our way through the house anyway. It’s clear that Ryan was doing a few projects around the place, as some areas are renovated to retro perfection, while others still have that genuine Uncle Joe age that sends a pang through my chest.
We check everywhere, in every room. We even look in the basement and in the front and back yards. We call for Rudy on the street. I even use his full name, Rudolph Claus Sheppard-Foster, so he knows I’m serious, but after close to an hour of searching, one thing’s abundantly clear.
“Rudy’s… done a runner,” I say, not believing it myself. Because if Rudy left, that would mean he was unhappy. And didn’t I give that dog everything? Organic, grain-free treats? My whole heart?
Wasn’t I enough? For… Rudy?
I’m on the verge of crying, but I refuse. I refuse to accept defeat. I curl my hands into fists and shut my eyes, hoping against hope that if I wish hard enough, Rudy will come running, his silly tongue lolling while he does a happy dance around my ankles.
Carter steps closer to me. His boots crunch in the snow, and I can smell his damn cologne. I want to hate him for losing Rudy, but the awful truth is that it isn’t his fault. I lost Rudy. Turns out I was the shitty dog owner. Not Carter.
“I didn’t know he had it in him,” Carter says quietly as I open my eyes. “Why don’t we check your place? Just in case?”
Now I’m the one doubting the plan. But I won’t give up, so I follow him to my house. We look everywhere, and everywhere seems to have another reminder of Carter. The bed where we slept together. The kitchen table I was sitting at when I found out he’d proposed to me. And, of course, the same place where I found out it was all a lie.
As I open up cabinets, I say, “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about your contract.”
Carter opens and closes a closet door. “You didn’t give me a chance, sprite.”
Sprite. Sugar plum. Snow bunny. I hate all of his damn nicknames.
“I can’t believe you still don’t know my name,” I shout at him. “You tricked me into dating you and you lost Rudy!”
Now the probability of tears has officially ticked into the “high chance” range. I turn away from Carter, staring out my kitchen window. How did this all go so, so wrong?
Carter steps behind me. He places a hand on my shoulder, and I jerk away from him. He sighs. I glance behind me to see him running a hand through his hair.
“Of course I tricked you into dating me, Lexi,” he says, each syllable soft and quiet. “You’re way out of my league. And I’d do it again if I could.”
It’s exactly everything I didn’t expect, and it’s clearly just another cheap line. I refuse to look back at him.
“Out of your league?” I say, forcing a laugh. “Do you have a head injury?”
“Lexi—”
But my phone buzzes, saving me for the moment. Unfortunately, it’s the kind of text that does nothing to ease the anxiety coursing through me.
“What is it?” Carter asks as I gasp and turn around.
I hold up the phone so he can see the message, and his eyes grow as wide as mine.
I have Rudy.
Carter asks, “Who’s it from?”
“Santa,” I whisper in response.
Chapter Twelve
Thankfully, the trip to the North Pole isn’t long because the “Santa” in question is actually the Santa from our first date, a.k.a. Tom from two doors over. I lead Carter around his house to the neighbor on his other side, and before we even get to his doorstep, he opens the door, pulling on his Santa coat and adjusting his cap. Behind him, Rudy bolts out of the door, running directly to me and Carter, dancing in circles before drowning us both in kisses.
I’m about to let Santa-Tom have it for dognapping, but Carter beats me to it.
“Where did you find him?” Carter asks.
“Find him?” Tom says, with a hearty, near-Santa-like laugh. “He comes over every day. There’s a gap in the back fence. He squeezes under and if I’m not home he goes door to door until someone gives him a treat. But anyway, it’s good to see you two together.”
