Page 57 of The Billionaire's Pawfect Match

“Bye,” she says without looking at me.

She pivots and walks away, down a hallway that leads to the back of the shelter. I watch her go, every step she takes a punctuation mark to our conversation — a period, an ellipsis, a question mark. What happens next? Can we bridge this gap, or are we destined to walk separate paths, haunted by what-ifs and might-have-beens?

“Come on, boy.” I give Baxter’s leash a gentle tug, and he hustles to fall into step next to me.

Anger, disappointment, and frustration turn my vision blurry as I walk to the car. I know I messed up, but Emily’s reaction was way out of proportion. And the fact that she lashed out at me after I mentioned that I’m not her parents tells me everything I need to know.

It’s not that I wanted to push the parents button. I simply refused to keep standing there while she endlessly attacked me. And now she needs space. And now… now I don’t even know if I’ll ever see her again.

I sit behind the steering wheel, staring at nothing, feeling everything. The past, the present, the uncertain future — they meld together in a tapestry of moments and memories. The firsttime I saw Emily, her smile brightening the park. The day I brought Baxter home, so angry with my dad, feeling so betrayed. The nights spent working late, the phone calls I didn’t answer, the dinners I missed.

All those moments, all those decisions, have led me here. Alone. Grieving. Grappling with the stark reality of Emily’s absence.

Baxter pushes his wet nose into my thigh, whimpering a little. I barely register the sensation. With a heavy sigh, I turn the ignition and steer the car out of the shelter’s lonely parking lot.

Maybe this is for the best. I know that I need to do better, but at least I’m taking responsibility for that. Emily thought her reaction was completely justified. So maybe I’ve dodged a bullet. Emily and me, we’re oil and water, fire and ice. Like two parallel lines destined never to meet — chasing each other in perpetual pursuit but fated to never intersect.

It’s not even because we’re from different worlds. That’s never mattered to me. It’s the way she attacked me for a mistake that anyone could make.

No answer. No apology. Just bitterness and accusations. It stings, even more so because I hadn’t seen it coming. I guess love really does blind you.

Well, not anymore. I’ll be here if she wants to apologize, but until then I won’t be budging.

“Looks like it’s me and you, buddy,” I tell Baxter.

For how long, I don’t know. Maybe Emily and I will patch things up. Maybe we’ll never speak again.

That last possibility feels like a knife to my heart, but I refuse to let it bring me to my knees. I’m a Lennox. I run one of the biggestrealty companies in the world. A little blip like this won’t take me down.

Even if it feels like I might die from the pain of it all.

CHAPTER 27

EMILY

Water sloshes from the bucket, warm and soapy. My hands work through thick golden fur, and I try not to think. Try not to remember. Jenn stands across from me, her sleeves rolled up and a determined smile on her face as she scrubs the retriever’s back — the retriever who reminds me so much of Baxter.

Around us, other volunteers bathe other dogs. It’s a joyous afternoon, with music pumping, raffle tickets being handed out, and a food truck serving Italian ice. It’s sunny and hot, humans smiling and dogs barking in glee.

It seems I’m the only one who isn’t happy.

“Look at him,” Jenn says, her voice bright against the backdrop of barking dogs and laughter. “He’s loving this.”

I nod, forcing a smile that I know doesn’t quite reach my eyes. “He does.” But it’s Baxter I see beneath my fingers; Baxter’s trusting gaze that looks up at me through this dog’s eyes.

“Emily?” Jenn’s concern peeks through her cheerfulness. “You’re doing that thing again. Where you go all quiet.”

I shake my head, dispelling the image of another golden retriever, one that belongs to Isaac. “Just thinking about the fundraiser. It’s a big success.”

“Thanks to you… and Isaac.” She hesitates, biting her lip, knowing she’s ventured into dangerous waters.

I focus on rinsing the dog, watching the water turn murky before clearing again. “Yeah, Isaac helped.” The words are heavy, leaden with what I don’t say. We haven’t spoken since that day. Since he came to the shelter to get Baxter. Since I had the realization that maybe he hasn’t changed at all.

“Hey.” Jenn snaps her fingers gently, bringing me back to the dog wash around us. “You’ve done an amazing job here. Don’t let anything take that away from you.”

“Thanks,” I murmur, but my gaze drifts. To the parking lot entrance. To every tall figure that walks by. Looking for him. For them.

The golden retriever shakes vigorously, sending droplets flying. Laughter bubbles up around us, people undeterred by the spray of water, their joy infectious. They’re here for their pets, for the shelter. They believe in second chances.

---