Page 37 of The Billionaire's Pawfect Match

I imagine her at the coffee shop she moonlights at, steaming milk, an apron tied around her waist. The vision I’m conjuring makes her look ridiculously cute. Would it be weird if I popped in there sometime to get a latte from her? I’ve never been to that coffee shop, and it’s not on my way to work at all, but I don’t mind making a detour. Not for her.

“Not today. I was volunteering at the animal shelter. I’d actually run out of dogs to work with by the time you texted me, and I was at the pet store, getting some supplies for the shelter.”

“And that’s where you saw Baxter’s favorite treats?”

“Yep.”

“I didn’t realize that you did shopping for the shelter.”

She shrugs, her gaze focused on the sidewalk ahead. “Not officially, but I help out in any way I can.”

We talk as we wander — about little things, inconsequential things. Yet, with each word exchanged, I find myself wanting to dive deeper, to know the essence of her thoughts, her dreams, her past. The curiosity is a gnawing hunger, a yearning for connection I haven’t felt in a long time.

The scent of her shampoo, citrus and vanilla, wafts to me on the cool breeze. It mixes with the smell of car exhaust and steamedhot dogs from the nearby vendor, creating an oddly intoxicating blend.

She suddenly stops walking, glancing up at a tall building. My rhythm breaks, forcing me to stop and look in the direction she is staring. It’s an old-fashioned film theater with its marquee lit up, listing show times for movies from decades past.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she says, her voice carrying a tone of wonderment.

My gaze follows hers, absorbing the magnificent building as she does. Its aging bricks murmur tales of a different time. “It certainly is,” I say.

The truth is, I’ve passed this theater countless times but I’ve never really seen it. Not like she does now, engrossed in its grandeur. Time seems to stand still for her. She’s lost in a trance, seemingly communicating with the building’s past, its stories and secrets.

Something must have shown on my face because she quickly shifts her gaze towards me, a veil of clouds masking her eyes. “You’ve never noticed it before?” Her inflection curls upwards, making me feel like a schoolboy who failed a simple test.

“No,” I admit. “Not like this. Not until you pointed it out.”

The corners of her lips curl up into an understanding smile. “That’s the essence of life, isn’t it?” she murmurs. “Seeing things for the first time, even when they’ve been there all along.”

“Yes,” I murmur, thinking how that’s the way things have been with her. She came into my life quite unexpectedly, and it took me a bit to really see her. To really understand the jewel I had in front of me.

“Emily…” I pause to gather the courage to continue. “Would you like to have dinner with me again tonight? This time planned?” I tack a grin on the end, hoping that my attempt at humor will sweeten the deal.

She strokes Baxter’s head, considering my offer. There’s a vulnerability in asking, in putting my hopes out there without the security of certainty. Last night was one thing — an impromptu dinner born out of an unexpected blackout — but this… this would be a real, proper date. Our first.

Assuming she accepts.

“Are you sure you want to add dating to your to-do list?” she teases, but there’s a softness in her eyes that tells me she won’t be saying no.

“Absolutely,” I say, my heart steadfast in its newfound purpose. “It’s about time I prioritized what truly matters.”

“Then yes,” she says, her hand brushing against mine — a touch as light as a promise. “Yes, I’d like that very much.”

We resume our walk, the city streets stretching out before us. There’s a sense of anticipation in the air, a prelude to change. And as I glance over at Emily, her smile a beacon in the ordinariness of the day, I realize I’m ready. Ready to embrace the unknown, to let love chart its course.

Is this what my dad was hoping for me? That by leaving Baxter with me I would stop focusing so much on work and start thinking about other things? Like caring for others; creating relationships outside of the office.

I hate to give it to him, but the old man was kind of a genius.

CHAPTER 19

EMILY

Baxter’s nails click against the sidewalk between me and Isaac, a beautiful song. We’re walking, the three of us, along a path in the park framed by whispering trees. Everything is nearly perfect. And yet… I breathe deep, waiting to feel lighter.

Because I should. I’m going to have dinner with Isaac tonight. The thought tingles through me, electric and warm. But it’s shadowed, overcast by a cloud of worry that refuses to dissipate. The shelter… the money just isn’t there. We’re sinking, and all I can do is bail water with a cup full of holes.

“Hey.” Isaac’s voice breaks through my reverie, his tone laced with concern. “You got quiet. What’s on your mind?”

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