Page 8 of Will Bark for Pizza
“I promise.”
It was easier than explaining that I’d never reveal my secret pen name. Or that my author career as I knew it was about to be on a downward spiral. I hadn’t dredged an ounce of inspiration since the Big Breakup. I was almost certain that part of me died a swift death along with the most toxic relationship I’d ever experienced. The price for peace was high, but I’d happily pay it again.
I’m not sure my readers felt the same way, though.
“How long will you be out of town?” Lila asked.
“Not sure.” I didn’t give much thought to this plan when I loaded the car this morning. I packed enough clothes, dog food, and reading material to last me a solid ten days. Being an author had been my full-time job for the past three years, and it afforded me a flexibility I certainly took for granted until now.
I’d miss that the most when the money inevitably ran out and I had to return to reality. Thanks to Lila, I might have a couple of years of freedom ahead of me before that day arrived.
“You okay?” Lila asked, her concern genuine. “Because I can pack a bag and be on the next flight?—”
“I’m okay.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’llbeokay,” I corrected.
“Is that what the paddleboarding is for?”
“Yeah.” I half dragged, half carried the board to the edge of the shore before digging out the paddle with one hand, and balancing the phone with the other.
My dog was pacing, convinced I would leave him behind. He did the same thing when I filled my suitcase this morning, just a bit more dramatically.
“I’d never leave you behind, Husker,” I said, returning to my Jeep. I unsnapped the tether from the purple paddle and left the cord behind. I’d be fine without it in water this calm. But Husker’s life jacket was nonnegotiable. “You know that.”
“Wait, Husker’s going with you?” Lila’s tone perked up.
“Of course.”
“I didn’t take him for a swimming dog. He likes the water?”
“Actually, he hates the water.”
“Okay, I’m lost.”
“He loves being on the board, just not the getting wet part.”
I set the phone on the Jeep’s bumper and crossed my fingers that the doggie life jacket still fit. Though I felt fairly confident he could swim without it, it made me feel better for him to have one.
After letting out the straps, the bright yellow and black jacket snapped closed around his torso with just enough give. Husker gave me the most pitiful look, as though the other dogs would make fun of him for this. But he’d forget all about it once we were on the water.
“Maybe you’ll get some writing done while you’re out there,” Lila said, her tone both encouraging and nonchalant, as though she didn’t want to push me, but knew I needed a solid nudge. “With the change of scenery, and all. Your Veltori vamps do like mountains.”
“Maybe.” I told her I was suffering from writer’s block, because it was easier than admitting the truth. Diana Davenport would never write another book. I just didn’t know how to tell her, or anyone else. “Do you need anything from me?” I asked her of the book launch.
“Feel free to respond to reader comments. They’re loving this latest book and already begging for Mateo’s story. Seriously, babe, a love triangle?”Fuck, I did that, didn’t I?“But otherwise, I’ve got it covered.”
“Thanks, Lila. You’re the best.”
“You wouldn’t have hired me otherwise,” she insisted. “Send me a picture of Husker in his life jacket. Ineedto see it!”
“He’s allergic to pictures on a good day, but I’ll see what I can do.”
Once the call ended, I made a few pitiful attempts to fulfill Lila’s request. Husker refused to look at the camera for a single one, and all of them were blurry. Maybe I could try again when we got back to shore. Until then, I slipped my phone into the center console of my Jeep. It was better for my sanity if I left it behind. Better for my bank account if I didn’t drop another one in the lake.
“Ready, Bubbies?”
