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Barrett looks up, a strange expression on his face. “Maybe. But first, would you mind coming over here for a second?”
My brow furrows, but I smile as I say, “Okay. Why? Want me to see if I can spot any burn marks on your little devil?”
“Something like that,” he says, adding as I get close enough for Keanu’s hideously sweet face to be almost even with mine, “And to see if he likes you.”
“Of course, he likes me,” I say, reaching out to stroke the tiny dog’s head, smiling as he nuzzles closer and gives my fingers a lick. “Keanu clearly has great taste in people.”
“He does,” Barrett murmurs, his gaze caressing my face. “At least as far as you’re concerned.”
“I’m sure he would have liked Nora, too,” I say, trying to pretend that I don’t want to crawl up into Barrett’s arms, right along with the dog. “She was just nervous. And keeping him from food he saw as his. It was in his new house, after all.” I clear my throat, heart fluttering as I ask something I probably shouldn’t, “So, what would you have done if Keanu didn’t like me?”
“I would have informed the Furry Friends Society that I would be fostering him until they found another placement. But that I can’t have a dog who doesn’t get along with the important people in my life.”
I pull in a breath, torn between yelling at him and kissing him senseless. Why couldn’t he have said these things three months ago? Or even two? Why couldn’t he have reached out before I spent so much time guarding my heart against him?
Instead of either of those things, I surprise myself by saying, “I’ll be your date to the wedding. Text me the details,” I add hastily. “We can go as friends. That will be better, anyway. It’s more tasteful to bring a friend date than a date date to an ex’s wedding.”
He arches a brow. “I didn’t realize there was a protocol.”
“I’m not sure there is, not written down anywhere anyway, but that seems right.” I nod. The more I think about it, the more right it feels, too. “I mean, unless you had a woman who you’d been close with for a while. Otherwise, a friend is best. I’m sure Ms. Underwood is much more pleasant when she isn’t in pain, but you would have been rolling the dice on how a stranger would behave at such an important event.”
“She might have brought out her eggbeater during the vows,” he says, his lips quirking.
I fight a grin and lose. “Betsy told me about that. Why an eggbeater? What was she thinking?”
“I think she was just trying to make sure she was heard,” Barrett says, his expression sobering. “It’s recently been brought to my attention that being seen and heard is very important for most people.”
I arch a brow, my heart beating faster as the air thickens between us. “But not for you? Don’t you want to be seen and heard, Dr. McGuire?”
He hesitates but doesn’t look away. Finally, he offers in a softer voice, “It’s also recently come to my attention that I have a very large family.”
I huff out a laugh and tease, “That’s only recently come to your attention?”
“It’s only recently come to my attention that it might have affected the way I behave in other relationships, outside my family,” he says, clearly uncomfortable, though I’m not sure why. “To maintain any sense of privacy in a clan as large, and intrusive, as mine, I kept to myself and played my cards close to the chest.”
I nod. “Which makes sense. There aren’t many introverts in your family.”
“And not many rooms in the house where we grew up,” he says. “There was literally nowhere to hide except in my own thoughts. But my parents and siblings still knew me, and I knew them. We were too physically and emotionally close for it to be any other way. But in the real world…”
Starting to see where this is going, I say, “In the real world, where we respect each other’s boundaries, most people can’t get close enough to know you.”
“Or for me to know them, not in a meaningful way, anyway,” he says, his gaze dropping to the top of Keanu’s head. “Turns out therapy can be helpful, even if you’re not clinically depressed.”
My chest tightens, compassion mixing with all the old feelings to make it very hard not to wrap Barrett up in my arms. “Thanks for sharing that with me.”
“I did it because of you,” he says, increasing the pressure building behind my ribs. “I don’t want to be the kind of man who hurts the important people in my life. Even by accident.”
“Barrett, what the hell, I’ve been knocking for at least a minute. We’re going to be late to leg day and you know I can’t miss leg day.” Christian slams the front door behind him, interrupting before I can ask Barrett if I’m important because I’m his head nurse and right-hand gal or because he wants something more. Something real and beautiful and intimate, the way I did for so long. “Oh, hey Wren,” Chris continues, when he spots us in a face off in the middle of the living room. “Am I interrupting something? If so, I can—”
