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There’s no one out there today except a few lonely fishing boats.
Molly rolls down beside me, catching her breath. I crouch down and dig my fingers into her fur, fighting this weird feeling of disappointment and the weirder urge to cry.
I’m not crying over this,I lie.
“Wow, someone’s beat today. What’s wrong, girl?” I say past my rock in my throat. I think I already know. “No harm in an early nap, huh? Let’s head home.”
Molly looks up at me and stretches.
Those trusting, bright-blue eyes I adore so much glow brighter than the silvery water.
You know what the worst part is?
Shepherd got along with her so easy.
It was nothing like the date-destroying disaster I’ve been fearing ever since I got her. Men and hyperactive dogs usually don’t mix, and it’s one more reason I haven’t put myself on the market.
But Shepherd, he just took every playful lick and rude paw like they were already old friends.
I wonder if Molly’s feeling sad because she knows we won’t be seeing him again, and whatever beautiful, messy thing might’ve happened isn’t meant for this life.
Scratching her ruff, I pick myself up with a heavy sigh.
I pretend to ignore the stupid, hollow feeling in my chest as I turn Molly around and jog back home to get ready for my next round of misery in the office.
The good times never last.
It’s time to grow up and face the freaking music.
* * *
So,being an adult is hard—and alsoweird.
Everything feels shockingly ordinary at work today.
In the days since we last saw each other, absolutely nothing unusual has happened.
He’s holed up in his office and I’ve stayed in mine, mostly with Mark, who hasn’t been the biggest pest in the known universe, even if he’s a bit of a chronic suck-up by nature.
He’s actually given me plenty to do and we’ve worked well enough together through his massive slush pile of charity queries.
Also, a certain someone—probably Hannah, or maybe her minion Rebecca—squashed the rumors so effectively that people only stare at me now when they think I’m not looking.
Progress.
Carol gives me a few sympathetic smiles whenever we pass by. She ducked in to congratulate me on a fantastic presentation—and apparently on the fact that the product team is already working to adapt one of their prototypes to conservation tracking.
I’m modest as always, taking the kind words in stride.
Except there’s that little bit of pride inside me that feels good because itwasa great proposal.
I worked hard on it, and it feels good to have that work acknowledged.
“So, in case you wondered... a lot of people feel bad that they were wrong about you and Mr. Foster,” Mark says encouragingly at lunch. There’s a splat of mayo beside his mouth as he bites into his wrap.
The sun beats down on our heads, warmer now at midday.
“Yeah?” I force a smile, knowing he’s just trying to make me feel better.
