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I sigh and nod. “I know exactly what you mean. Taking pictures, capturing beauty, it’s wonderful. But it doesn’t scratch that itch. I thought about getting a dog just to have someone to talk to. But that would be crazy.”
“I think it’s adorable.”
I grin. “Yeah?”
“I could totally see your Christmas card now. You by a fireplace with a rescue mutt, wearing matching plaid pajamas.”
Giggling, I ask, “How did you know I want a rescue?”
“Are you kidding? I still remember back in college when that documentary came out about the lives of sheltered dogs, and we went with a group of friends to see it, and you cried for like, three days—
“Two days, tops.” I shake my head, smiling.
He laughs. “Three, easily.”
“Okay, maybe I have a soft spot for outcasts.”
“That explains your dating history.”
I laugh hard. “Hey!”
“Alright, I’m gonna say it, but don’t get mad at me. Mark was a troll.”
“He was not!”
“I liked him when we met, but damn, that man was stuck up. He only liked what everyone else hated. He acted like he was the most oppressed person in the world—
“He was dark and brooding.”
Rowan smirks, but stays silent.
Thinking back on it, though, I don’t have a leg to stand on. I hate giving in, but he’s right. “Okay, maybe he was a little pretentious.”
“When I asked if he was ready for finals freshman year, he told me he studied with meticulous assiduity, but it was superfluous because the material was pellucid.”
“That was over ten years ago, and you remember it?”
He chuckles. “Those heavy, ten-dollar words stuck out in my mind for a long time. It was around then that he started referring to himself in the third person.”
“God, I’m so glad he stopped doing that before we met.”
“I would have teased you nonstop if you dated a third-person speaker.”
“Iwould have teased me, Rowan,” I tell him, giggling. “Whatever his issues, I’ve always liked the underdogs. People who are a little broken or who the world ostracizes.”
“You like to feel needed. There’s nothing wrong with that, Autumn. It’s a nice feeling. Why do you think I work so much?”
I smile and nod. “I’m glad you get me.” Then the words feel different. Wrong, somehow. “I mean, I’m glad you understand me.”
“So, a rescue dog, huh?”
“Possibly. I don’t know if I actually want to go through with that. But that Christmas card sounds cute as hell.”
“You know, it surprised me you were free for dinner tonight.”
“How come?”
He takes a breath and runs his fingertip around the rim of his wineglass absentmindedly. “Thought you might be out with one of your dating app matches.”
