Page 64 of Must Love Dogs… and Hockey

“Wow.” He stares at me. “That takes guts.”

I lift one shoulder. “Not sure if it’s guts or stupidity. Everyone was telling me to take the money and get on with my life. Like I said, I had no idea how far they’d retaliate. They smeared my name in the hospitality business, and as soon as potential employers heard what I was doing, there was no way they’d hire me. I didn’t know how bad things would get. But…” I pull in a long breath and straighten my shoulders. “That just made me more determined to make them pay. And to try to stop them from doing it to other people.”

He moves his head slowly from side to side as if finding it hard to believe what he just heard. “That’s amazing, Lilly.”

Tension unexpectedly releases from my body, tension I wasn’t even aware had gathered while I talked. I suck on my bottom lip and hold his gaze. “Really?”

“Yeah…”

“You don’t think I’m a money-hungry troublemaker?”

His lips twitch. “Uh. No.” He tilts his head, as if thinking. “Maybe…idealistic?”

I frown. “Because I think businesses should have principles and ethics?”

He grimaces. “Of course theyshould. But that’s not realistic.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Oh, here we go. This is what everyone told me. ‘Get rid of those rose-colored glasses.’ ‘You can’t fix all the injustices in the world.’ I don’t want to fixallthe injustices in the world, but maybe this is something Icanfix.”

He sets down his fork and holds up his hands. “You’re right. And that’s not what I’m saying. I admire your principles.”

I eye him skeptically.

“Really.” He leans over and smooches my mouth. He meets my eyes. “I do.”

“Thank you. Not everyone has.”

“I get that. And I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.”

“I also think it takes a lot of strength to do what you did. Maybe you didn’t know all the consequences, but you wanted to do the right thing.”

“Yes.” My heart is pattering wildly.

“That’s really brave.”

Oh my God, I want to toss the food aside and jump him again. He’s making me all soft and squishy inside. I drop my gaze to the plate on my lap. “Thank you,” I say again. This man’s opinion of me…matters.

At that moment, Otis makes himself heard again. We both turn toward the door, back to each other, then laugh.

“Poor Otis.” I lift my plate. “I’m done. How about you?”

We let Otis in and make a fuss over him, then move to the living room. We sit on the floor with Otis and a bag of treats, working on teaching him to sit, lie down, and stay. We hang out on Easton’s couch watching a movie, then get dressed to take Otis for a walk. My hair is frizzy and my makeup washed off in the shower, so I have to go “woke up like this,” although I have a lip gloss in my purse.

Instead of heading to the park we wander along Broadway, window-shopping on a Sunday afternoon. It’s such a relaxing, easy day. We make each other laugh, Otis entertains us, and I love seeing Easton without that edge, that cynical attitude of always expecting the worst.

I don’t want it to end.

I know it’s just sex, but even the no-sex parts of the day are fun with him.

I pop into Trader Joe’s so I can pick up a few things—I need fruit and yogurt, and I grab a couple of pre-made salads. We arrive at the corner of my street and it’s late afternoon. I pause. “I guess I should head home.”

Easton nods and we turn down my street. He’s carrying one of my bags of groceries, so he follows me inside. The apartment is empty and quiet; I guess Carlin is out. Easton sets the bag on the kitchen counter. I feel shy and awkward. How do we end this?

“So.”

He smiles. “So.”

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