Page 42 of The Billionaire's Pawfect Match

She nods. “I am.”

“Good.” I’ve reserved a table at one of the most popular restaurants in the city.

The city lights flicker like distant stars as I pull up to the spot, which is already teeming with activity. The valet takes my keys with a nod, and we step into the warmth that spills out from the lobby. The host recognizes me right away and gives a warm welcome. I suddenly feel awkward. I meant to impress Emily by bringing her here, but will she think it’s too flashy? Or that I’m trying too hard?

I know I’m overthinking, but my nerves are getting the best of me tonight. It’s strange. I’m not normally like this on dates — though, granted, I haven’t dated in quite a while. Perhaps I’m just out of practice.

The host leads us to a table secluded from the rest, a view of the city skyline painting the window beside us. The best table. For her.

“Wow,” she breathes, taking it all in — the elegance, the ambiance, the surreal feeling of being on top of the world — and I realize that I did the right thing, bringing her here.

Just like that, I feel tremendously better not only about myself but about the whole night.

“Only the best,” I say, pulling out her chair.

She sits, and I catch her scent again. It stirs something primal in me, a deep longing, a pull that’s stronger than gravity. It takes my breath away. I move to my seat, unable to shake that intoxicating fragrance. It’s unexpected, and it shakes me to my core.

The waiter arrives, a silent specter ready to tend to our every need. “A bottle of your finest champagne, please,” I tell him. It’s an indulgence, an extravagance I’ve earned but rarely savor. Tonight feels different. Special.

“Champagne?” Emily’s eyebrow arches playfully, her eyes bright with curiosity. “What are we celebrating?”

I hesitate, the words lingering on the edge of my tongue. In the vast expanse of my mind, memories and possibilities swirl — a dance of what was and what could be. Dad would have liked her,I think. Her spirit, her resilience. It’s a thought that brings both sorrow and solace.

“The promises of the future,” I reply finally, my voice steady despite the emotions churning within. The cork pops, and the waiter fills our flutes with liquid gold, bubbles racing to escape their crystal confines.

“To the future,” she echoes, lifting her glass.

Our eyes meet, and in hers, I see more than just reflection — I see depth, understanding, and a willingness to embark on this journey with me.

We toast, the chime of our glasses a fragile symphony, marking the beginning of something new. As the champagne fizzes on my tongue, I realize that this moment, simple as it may be, is a turning point. A pivot from the path of solitude I’ve walked for so long.

“Isaac,” she says, her voice a tender melody that pulls at my heartstrings, “whatever the future holds, I’m glad to have met you… and Baxter.”

“Me too.” And I mean it. With her, the loneliness that has cloaked my existence seems to fade, chased away by her light, her laughter, her sheer vitality.

Emily sips from her glass, her eyes never leaving mine. “You’re different,” she remarks. Her tone is contemplative, but not judgmental.

“Different?” I repeat. Is it that obvious?

“In a good way,” she reassures quickly, catching my hesitation. “You’re reserved but kind… A gentle soul.”

A gentle soul. The words resonate within me. It’s not something I can remember ever being called. I dwell on them, mulling over the implications. Perhaps she sees beyond the calculated façade I present to the outside world.

“I’ve always been a bit of a loner,” I confess, hearing the vulnerability in my own admission. The night wraps us in secrecy, the dim candlelight flickering across our private space.

Emily listens intently, her eyes inviting me to continue. Never have I felt so seen, so appreciated for who I am beneath all my layers. It feels… honest.

“Do you ever get lonely?” she asks, her voice as soft as the breeze outside.

Often. “Sometimes,” I answer. But tonight, loneliness feels likes a stranger.

“Me too.” Her lashes flutter as she looks to the side. “I usually manage to ignore it by staying busy, though.”

“Same,” I chuckle.

Her smile lights up the room. “But you have so much to show for it. You’re running an entire company.”

“My father built it.”

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