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Dolly nuzzles us both and I realize she holds a ball between her teeth.
“Can you spare five minutes and come to the backyard for a game of fetch?” Lance asks.
Ordinarily, this would be crossing a client-doctor boundary, but Lance was a friend first and I can’t say no to dogs—canines, that is.
Before my exodus from Atlanta, Lance and I were in the same group. He was Ross’s friend more than mine, though. I lost him and Dolly in the breakup because, of course, the bros were loyal to each other.
Mostly, it seems.
“Play ball? I’ll do it for Dolly. And since you didn’t ask, I’m fine, happier than ever.”
A thought more uncomfortable than the southern humidity makes my upper lip bead with sweat. If Lance is going to ask me to be his plus-one to the wedding, he’ll have to do a heck of a lot better than the cheesy angel pick up line. Something meaningful. Powerful. Never mind, I don’t want Lance to ask me anything.
On the short walk to the backyard, I pass under a flag billowing in the light breeze and remember when I met my former fiancé. Not Ross, my ex-boyfriend.
Tears of betrayal are salty. But tears of grief are another animal altogether—at times a growly, petulant creature.
While we throw the ball for Dolly, I anticipate Lance lobbing questions my way:
Are you upset with Romy?Hurt is more like it.
Do you want to get back together with Ross?An emphatic NO.
Are you going to make a scene at the wedding?Definitely not.
Do you resent them?Status pending.
But do I forgive them and wish them many years of married bliss? Absolutely. It’s harder to forget, given the upcoming wedding and my role in it, but yes, I certainly forgive them. We’re called to forgive seventy times seven times.
Lance’s voice floats to me. “I bet you’ll be the one who catches the bouquet. You’ll be next, Lally.”
I blink a few times, his meaning coming into focus. “I’m not in the marriage market.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “You met someone down south?”
“You know me, always working. Fostering rescues. Getting my new practice established. It’s a lot of work.” And taking long sunrise walks on the beach, paddle boarding with my mutts, and poker nights with the locals. It’s not retirement, but it’s not the hustle of Atlanta either.
“Well, you never know. Perhaps you’ll meet the future Mr. McGuiness. Or maybe you already did.” He winks.
“Ha ha, Lance.”
He bumps me with his shoulder. “Can’t blame me for trying.”
“I’m flattered. Thanks. But guys with Aussies just aren’t my type. I prefer the ones with lap dogs. The little pocketbook pooches.”
Concern streaks across his face.
“I’m joking. But if you were concerned about me and the wedding, don’t be. I’m fine. If you’re wondering if we can dance, just as friends. After—everything, I’m just not...” I shake my head, letting him fill in the blanks.
I’m just not feeling the love vibes as I anticipate witnessing my former best friend and ex-boyfriend at the altar.
If someone completely removed from the situation came along, perhaps I’d reconsider, but as it is, this entire week is going to be a fiasco.
The thing about me is I fall in love easily. But not with the guys that are interested in me. There has never been a match except for Ethan, but that was a long time ago.
Dolly brings me the ball, drops it at my feet, and then paws at me. “Alright, alright. You’re a very good girl.” I pet her enthusiastically and then give her the treat she knows is in the pocket of my jean shorts. Also, where my phone is stashed, which has repeatedly been going off with messages from Romy. I’m ignoring them because these house calls and the animals are my priority.
“And things are good down in the Keys? You’re not too lonely?”
