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John’s racing heart backpedaled, and he froze in place.
Dicky boy gulped, and his eyes widened to show white around his irises. His hand dropped to his side and nudged Britney’s thigh. Okay, maybe not so ex anymore.
Britney’s jaw dropped open and the champagne glass in her hand slipped.
Liquid and glass crashed to the floor. Based on how her head swiveled to the faces of those around her, the fear in her eyes was for a different reason than Dicky.
“John! What are you doing here?” Her voice warbled, and her spray tan paled a shade or two.
“We just got back from deployment. I thought I’d surprise you. I see it worked.”
“You didn’t tell me when you were coming back.” She edged away from Richard.
Too late, baby. I already saw.“Operational security. I explained why I couldn’t communicate on this mission.” And had to go dark on her after she posted on social media that he was deployed to Africa. Man, had he gotten his ass handed to him from command on that.
John looked down at Dicky in his tailored tuxedo. Dicky gave an awkward, nervous smile, revealing his gleaming, chemically whitened teeth, and took a half step back.
“I see the bigger surprise is on me.” John held his hand out to the hostess. “You can stop filming.”
She darkened the screen and placed the cell phone in his palm like it might explode.
A scene showing he’d survived a deployment unscathed only to have a bomb dropped on him the night he got home wasn’t the kind of video either he or Britney wanted going viral. He snagged a glass of champagne from a passing server.
“This auction is to raise money for children’s cancer research.” Britney kept her voice low as she glanced around. “Can you go without making more of a scene?”
“Go where? Home?”
“No. I—I didn’t want to send you a Dear John letter while you were deployed. Your stuff’s in boxes in the garage.”
The air whooshed from his lungs. Whoa. His stuff was packed?Dayam. He hadn’t been kicked this hard in the nads in a long time.
“We can talk later.” She gave a little shooing motion with her fingers.
“No need.” Things were pretty clear. “I’ll go by the house, load my boxes, get my dog, and be out of your life by the time you get home from your swanky party.”
“Ohhh, shit.” Her gaze shot to Richard, who took another small step back. Red tinged her cheeks. “Um, about Boss,” she stammered, shifting her weight from one high-heeled foot to the other.
“You’re not keeping Boss.” Caring for Boss for a few months didn’t give her custody of his dog.
“He, uh . . . he died.”
The words sucked the life out of him like an M-4 kill shot through his skull. “What? No!”
“I’m sorry.”
“How could you not tell me my dog died?” She had to be lying.
“I couldn’t video chat or call due to operational security.” Sarcasm dripped from her lips. “And I didn’t want to tell you in an email or letter.”
That Britney had used him as a rebound or maybe an angle to get back with her ex was an ego buster. Finding out his dog was dead? Might as well cut out his heart. “How?”
“He was hit by a car. Or a truck,” she offered lamely.
Numbness took hold. John downed his champagne in one gulp. He sure as hell didn’t have anything to celebrate, but alcohol might take the edge off. Champagne wasn’t going to cut it. Not one glass, anyway. He snatched Richard’s glass from his hand and drank it on his way out of the ballroom, ignoring curious stares as people cleared a path for him.
He drove straight to Britney’s house, hoping that for some sadistic reason she was lying about Boss. Maybe she’d gotten so attached to the oversized mutt she didn’t want to give him up.
John used his key for what would be the last time to let himself into the two-story house. Boss didn’t meet him at the front door
