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Beau: Geneviève, where the fuck are you? I just checked your room and the courtyard. We have to go now!
Beau: Where’s the other puppy?
Beau: Would you answer me? Where’s the other dog?
Beau: Geneviève, I thought you were more mature than this. Guess not.
“Gah, I want to rearrange his face,” I said in the car as Jillian drove us to the rink. I’d given her the brief notes on what went on last night. It bothered me so much that I couldn’t tell her the truth.
Jillian’s head turned to me briefly. “G, you need to talk to him. It’s okay that he wants to go out. But, and that’s a big but, he should either ask you to go with him or at least have the courtesy to tell you where he’s going and with whom.”
“And he should answer his phone.”
Her sympathetic words made my eyes water. “That must’ve been so scary—you should have called me. I would have come over and helped.”
“I know. Trey just, I don’t know, has a way with the puppies. I panicked and his name was the first I thought about calling. You already have too much on your plate, anyway,” I said, speaking the truth. Jillian was always busy either creating content, sewing new bikinis, or filming videos to put up on her channel.
“Any time at all. I’m not just saying that. I love those doggies, too,” she said, her hand covering mine and giving it a squeeze.
My phone rang. It said Beau on the screen.
I clicked ignore.
Again.
