Page 43 of The Billionaire's Pawfect Match

“And you’re continuing it,” she presses, not allowing me to be hard on myself. “Me? I don’t really have anything to show.”

I gape at her. “Are you kidding me?”

“Yeah, I?—”

“How many dogs have you helped? How many shelter dogs have you trained so that they could be placed in homes?”

She shrugs, sheepish, but there’s pride in her face. A blush on her cheeks. “I’m not sure.”

“Just take an educated guess. I’m genuinely curious.”

Her gaze drops to the tablecloth, her fingers tracing the dainty floral pattern embroidered across pale linen. A pause. “Probably a few hundred.”

“A few hundred,” I echo, my astonishment palpable. From where I’m sitting, Emily seems nothing short of remarkable.

“Not every story ends happily,” she admits, her soft-spoken voice barely carrying over the clink of silverware and the low hum of conversations.

“But you’ve given them a chance, Emily. Don’t sell yourself short.” I mean every word.

We fall silent again, both lost in our respective reveries.

“Speaking of dogs…” I clear my head and lean forward. “I’ve been thinking.”

She tilts her head, her eyes reflecting the soft light that dances around us, casting shadows that play with the contours of her face. “About?”

“Fundraisers,” I say, watching her reaction closely. “For the shelter. And I want to involve my marketing team to work with you. At no cost to the shelter, of course.” The words hang in the air, a gift offered with open palms.

Her eyebrows knit together slightly, as if she’s preparing to push back, to argue that it’s too much. But then, something shifts in her gaze. A tear escapes, tracing a path down her cheek, and herhand covers her mouth. My heart clenches at the sight, at the raw emotion that spills forth despite her usual composure.

“Isaac, that’s… incredible.” Her voice trembles, each word wrapped in layers of gratitude. “Thank you. You have no idea how much this means.”

I lean forward, offering a napkin to catch the rogue tear. “I think I do,” I say quietly. “And it’s my pleasure, really. I want to help.”

There’s a pause as we sit, surrounded by murmurs of other patrons and the clinking of cutlery against fine china. I feel the weight of my past choices, of the man I used to be — one who would never have considered such an offer without looking for something in return.

But that man is fading, his edges blurring into the background as I embrace the person I’m becoming. Good things are happening. I’m a decent dog owner now, Baxter’s loyalty a testament to that. I’m useful to Emily, not just a passing interest but someone who contributes to her passion. And the company, my legacy, is secure with Baxter at my side — his presence a constant reminder of the responsibility I’ve shouldered.

It’s an ascent from the depths of grief, a climb toward a peak bathed in the warmth of companionship and purpose.

“We’ll discuss it more,” I promise. “But how about we order now?”

“Sounds good.” She peruses the menu. “Oh, I don’t know what to pick. Everything here looks amazing. What’s the best?”

“Let’s order the chef’s tasting menu,” I suggest. “A little bit of everything.” A metaphor for the new experiences I crave, shared at a table with Emily.

“Sounds perfect,” she agrees, her smile returning, lighting up the space between us.

The waiter takes our order, and I watch Emily, her elegance matched only by the kindness that radiates from her. She catches me staring and blushes, a rose blooming in winter.

“What are you thinking?” she asks, the question simple yet loaded at the same time.

“Many things,” I admit, my hands clasped on the table. “But mostly, how good life feels right now.”

We talk more, about small things, about nothing and everything. And as the plates arrive, one after another, I savor the flavors, the textures, the way Emily’s eyes light up with each new taste. It’s a symphony of senses, of moments collected like precious stones.

I want to kiss her, to seal this evening with the intimacy of touch. But I resist the urge, holding back with a willpower I didn’t know I possessed.Slow, Isaac.Let this unfold like the petals of a flower, each layer revealing more beauty than the last.

Because this, right here, is new territory. A landscape painted with the hues of patience and anticipation. A place where the rush of past conquests has no power, where the thrill of the chase has been replaced by the depth of discovery.

---