Page 56 of The Billionaire's Pawfect Match

Baxter runs over to me, his body vibrating with tension and relief. His paws are wet and muddy, and as I pet him he presses his side against me, silently begging me to stay with him. It breaks my heart, seeing him like this.

I look up and there’s Emily, her arms crossed, her gaze like the edge of winter — sharp and unforgiving.

“Emily, I—” I start, but she cuts me off.

“How could you be so careless?” Her voice is a whip, each word striking deep. “He could have gotten hit by a car. Thank God someone was kind enough to grab him and bring him in. Also, if I weren’t here today, no one would have recognized him. It would have been hours before someone scanned him for a chip.”

Her face turns red as she goes on, and I stay quiet, allowing her the time to dish out what she needs to. “I mean, how does he get from that floor, so high up, to the bottom — then out? There had to be more than one act of negligence there!”

My throat tightens. “It was an accident. He slipped out when?—”

“Accidents happen when you’re not paying attention.” She steps closer, her eyes searching mine, demanding accountability. “What if he got hurt? What if someone took him and kept him? Did you even think about that?”

The questions hang heavy around us, and I feel the weight of each one. “Of course I did. That’s why I was out there, looking for him.”

“Looking for him after the fact doesn’t change that you weren’t careful enough to prevent this.” Her tone softens, but only to drive her point home. “You promised you’d take care of him.”

“My job is demanding. You know that. It’s not just something I can put aside.” I try to explain, but my words sound hollow.

“Your job,” she repeats, her voice trembling. “It’s always your job, isn’t it, Isaac? Just like your dad.”

Those words, they feel like a blow to the chest. I recoil as if she’s struck me physically. “That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” She steps back, wrapping her arms around herself as if warding off a chill only she can feel. “Your job is important, yes, but what about Baxter? What about us? You made more time for him, but I should have known that it wouldn’t stick. Tigers don’t change their stripes.”

I search for the right words, but they seem to dissolve before they can reach my lips. “I’m trying, Em. I really am.”

“Trying isn’t good enough when it comes to the ones you love.” She looks away, and in that gesture, I see the distance between us stretch further than the miles I ran tonight.

“Emily, please. Don’t do this. Don’t make it about?—”

“About what? About reality? You’re turning into him — into the person that you complain about. Prioritizing work over everything else, over everyone who cares about you.” Her accusation hangs in the air, a verdict delivered without hope of appeal.

“Emily…” My voice breaks, my defenses crumbling. “I don’t want to be him. I don’t want to lose you, not over this.”

“Then show me,” she says softly. “Show me that he means more to you than a deal, a meeting, a never-ending climb to the top. I get that you were distracted, but normal distraction is forgetting to turn a light off. You have an animal depending on you.”

She looks down at Baxter, who is sitting as small as he can, his tail tucked. My chest feels like a dish towel being wrung dry. I already know how much I messed up, and I don’t need Emily rubbing salt into the wound. Venting for a minute was fine, but this? It’s unnecessary.

“I’m not perfect,” I say, “but neither are you, so you have no right to point fingers.”

Her eyes narrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, it’s just—” I clutch at the roots of my hair in frustration. “I wasn’t talking about anything in particular, just that you’re being kind of harsh right now.”

Her eyes stay narrowed. “I don’t think it’s harsh to want the best for Baxter. And if you can’t take care of him, maybe it’s best that you leave him here so we can find him a home with someone who has the time for him.”

Bile rises in my throat. Did she seriously just say that?

“I can take care of my own dog,” I spit at her.

We stare at each other for a long moment, our chests heaving. Finally, she shakes her head. “I can’t deal with this right now.”

“With what? Which part? Me losing Baxter? Or the way this situation is triggering you? I’m not your parents, Emily. You can count on me. Just because?—”

“I need some space.” She’s still as a statue, unblinking.

I suck in a breath. I was just getting started.

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