Page 59 of The Billionaire's Pawfect Match

“You’re so good with the dogs,” she says, her gaze fixed on my hands as I gently scrub behind a chocolate lab’s ears. “The woman at the table told me you’re a trainer. Do you have a card? I’d love for you to work with our Sammy.”

“Sure.”

I fish a business card from the pocket of my apron, slightly damp from the day’s work but still crisp. Handing it over, I feel a prick of pride. It’s the fourth one today. My tiny dog-training business is growing, leaf by leaf, like the young sapling it is.

“Thank you!” The woman tucks the card into her purse, then leads Sammy away.

I watch them go, feeling the sense of success in my chest. It’s heavy, bittersweet. Because even though everything is going so well, there’s a hollowness to it all. A space where Isaac should be, sharing this moment with me. But he’s not here, and that’s a choice I made. A necessary one.

“Oh my goodness, can you believe the turnout we had?” Ricki exclaims as the event draws to a close. She wraps me in an embrace that’s all enthusiasm and gratitude. “We’ve raised so much money!”

“I know. It’s fantastic.”

“But?” Ricki asks, pulling back to look at me, concern painted in her icy-blue eyes.

I shrug. “No buts,” I say. “Just tired, I guess.” She doesn’t need to know about Isaac, about the longing that still lingers like mist in the early morning. It’s not her burden to bear, and I don’t want to bring the mood down any further than I already have.

“Go home and get some rest,” Ricki insists, squeezing my hand.

“After I help get everything cleaned up,” I tell her. No way am I leaving to let the other volunteers carry the load.

It’s good to keep my hands busy — if not washing dogs, then packing up supplies and loading cars. The joy of the day is like a radio station just out of frequency range; I can almost hear the music, but it’s interspersed with static. The static is Isaac. Baxter. Us.

A beep from my phone jerks me back to the present. I pull it out, heart skipping in anticipation. Not Isaac, though. Just Brenda from the coffee shop asking if I can switch a shift next week.

“Everything okay?” Jenn asks, eyeing the phone in my hand.

“Yeah, just work stuff,” I mumble, slipping the device back into my pocket and putting the lid on another container.

She gives me a sympathetic look, and I hate that she feels sorry for me.

“Let me help you with that,” she insists, reaching for the container.

“No, I got it,” I say, pulling it away gently.

I don’t need pity. I’ve had enough of that. What I need is to keep going, to move one foot in front of the other. Even if it hurts. So, I plaster on a smile, pick up the container, and ignore the tightness in my chest.

I’m used to being hurt, used to bandaging up my heart and moving on. Yet something made me hope this time was different.

But it wasn’t after all. And I can’t shake the sadness that comes with accepting that my fears were right all along.

CHAPTER 28

ISAAC

Sighing, I gaze out my office window, not remembering the last time I stayed in the office this late. I’m hunched at my desk, the soft glow of the computer screen casting shadows across the piles of paperwork. Baxter lies at my feet, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

Stretching my back, I get back to work, tapping away at the keyboard, but my heart isn’t in it. Work used to be my refuge, my escape. Now it’s just another place to hide from thoughts of Emily.

“Break time, huh?” I mutter as Baxter stirs, a low whine slipping from his throat.

He’s reminding me without words that it’s time to step away. I push back from the desk and stand, feeling the ache in my bones. This dog, with his knowing eyes and relentless need for fresh air, keeps me human.

“Come on.” I grab his leash and we walk through empty hallways, me keeping his close.

After losing him, I’m making sure that nothing like that ever happens again. Since Emily and I have been taking our space, I haven’t had much of anyone in this life other than my dog. Sad, but true. I talk, he listens. It’s our routine.

The building is silent when we return. Everyone else has long since gone home to families, to lives outside these walls. Not me. Tonight, I stay late on purpose. Home is where her laughter still lingers, where the ghost of her smile haunts every corner. I can’t face it, not yet.

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