Page 47 of The Bitter Rival

After cleaning up the remaining plates and utensils, I observe Austin pacing a bit. This is the longest we’ve been outside his comfort zone in quite some time. I think he’s enjoyed himself here, but the crowd of people and festivities may be causing some anxiety. Deciding to gather our things and head out, I stroll over to give goodbyes to our friends before departing.

As we make our way around the house to the car, I hear young voices yelling Austin’s name and turn. Watching Jenna and Luke run up to him with broad smiles on their faces, they hand him large handfuls of… leaves. They aren’t dry and crumbly, but colorful, intact, distinctly different leaves. My eyes flick to Austin’s, which are bright and shiny, as is his expression. I know he’s excited about this gift.

“Thank you,” he says to both of them as he gathers his precious cargo against his chest. “Mom, look at these great leaves.”

“Yes, Austin. They’re beautiful. Thanks, kids.” I open the car trunk and ask Austin to place the leaves inside. “Son, could you try not to get those all over your floor at home?”

“Yes, Mom. I won’t get them all over the floor.”

Giving him a quick hug before he heads toward the passenger side door, I look up before heading to the driver’s seat and lock eyes with Sebastian. This was his work. I know it. I’m choosing to believe this was a kind gesture and nothing more. I refuse to believe he’d try to get to me through my son. He raises his hand to wave goodbye, and I give him an appreciative smile in return. Just guard your feelings, Isabella. This shark has bitten many a woman. You’ve had your fun, just let him be.

CHAPTERTWENTY-TWO

Sebastian

“Hey, man. Is seven o’clock, okay?” I hear Nick ask through the phone line.

“Sure, I’ll meet you at the pub.” Hanging up the phone, I let out a heavy sigh. Why does thirty-seven suddenly feel so old? I didn’t think I’d be suffering a midlife crisis until at least my forties. Having finished my last patient appointment of the day, I grab my keys and head for the door. Maybe a quick dip in the jacuzzi to loosen my muscles would help before I go out for the evening.

The drive home seems longer than usual, taking in the splendor of fall’s arrival. Since meeting Austin and witnessing his talent for interpreting nature, I’ve admittedly looked at the local landscape differently. I’ve come to appreciate each leaf has a unique fingerprint versus seeing it as a dying piece of foliage. It’s clear Austin looks at the world through a special prism. His art is well developed for such a young soul. It occurs to me he might enjoy meeting Mr. Hansen and seeing his artwork if he hasn’t already. I’m sure Isabella has provided him with opportunities to grow his natural talent.

Pulling into my drive, I’m taken aback at seeing a stray dog sitting atop my steps. He doesn’t appear to be the typical malnourished, disheveled beast that wanders about from time to time, but moreover, a well-groomed, well cared for Labrador retriever. As I park and come closer, I’m surprised to find he’s not skittish but sits wagging his tail in apparent expectation. His coat is shiny, a deep chocolate brown, and while he wears a navy-blue collar, there’s no identifying tag present.

“Hey, fella. Where’d you come from?”

I reach out to rub his soft head, and his tail begins to wag faster still. It’s a temperate day, thus, he isn’t panting or appearing dehydrated from prolonged heat exposure. I’m not letting some stray into my immaculate home. I’ve never owned a pet, nor do I have the patience to start now. Looking around, I wonder if he could’ve wandered from a neighbor’s home. I open the door and observe as the lab sits calmly, never attempting to dart inside. He appears well trained. I give the dog a wave and attempt to direct him back to whence he came and head for my bedroom to change out of my suit and tie.

After a few laps in the pool and a long soak in the hot tub, I’m relaxing with an ice-cold lager and a meat and cheese plate my chef has left for me. Looking at the rolled meats of pastrami and prosciutto on the tray, my mind returns to Fido. Strolling to the front door, I peer out of the peephole to find he’s no longer sitting on the porch. Odd. Hopefully, he’s returned home safe and sound.

“Bas, over here,” Nick yells over the music and boisterous patrons at the bar. He’s seated at a table for four instead of at a barstool as we usually do.

Reaching over to pat him on the shoulder, I lower myself into the seat across from him.

“I got you a celebratory scotch,” he adds as he raises his glass in a toast.

Clinking his glass, I take a sip. “Thanks, man. I don’t mind if I do.”

“Where’s your lovely wife? Home with Grace?”

“No, she’s out with a friend for dinner. So, fill me in. Everything going okay with Kendal? You didn’t hook up with her again, did you?”

“No. I needed sunglasses for the bling on her finger. Apparently, married life has only helped her career.” I watch as one brow rises, the universal sign for I told you so. “Yeah, yeah. You married folks are all in some kind of club. Is there a commission that gets paid out for recruiting holdouts?”

“Nah, man. I just want you to be happy. I fought it so long. I don’t want to see you miss out on a chance to have something meaningful in your life.”

“What’s not meaningful? I have a successful career, own a nice home, and travel where I want when I want. I have plenty of puss-”

“I know,” he interrupts. “If that’s still working for you, I’m not judging. For me, it came to a point where I wanted more. Random hookups didn’t do it for me anymore. If I kept fighting my fear of where it’d all end up, I would’ve never taken a chance with Kat. It just sounded like from our conversation the other day, you might be at a crossroads.”

“I don’t know, Nick. I think I’ve been going full steam ahead with my career for so long it’s catching up with me, that’s all. I need order. Routine. I’ve had some chaotic surgeries recently at St. Luke’s. Mistakes occasionally happen at other locations, but not like there. It’s starting to make me paranoid of a bad outcome before I even begin.” I watch as Nick waves the waitress over and asks for a menu and another round of drinks.

“What’ll you have, Bas. It’s on me.”

“I’ll take the surf and turf, medium rare with a side of asparagus.”

“Would you like a side salad, sir?” the lovely young blonde asks with a twinkle in her eye.

“No, thank you.” I place my menu down. “I hate salad.”

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