Page 23 of The Broken Heart Playlist
“How old is he?”
“Four.”
Kneeling, Tess defies all reasonable safety advice when it comes to strange dogs and shoves her face right in front of Uno. “Who’s a handsome boy? You’re a handsome boy. Yes you are, you’re so handsome.”
Tess seems to have adopted a different persona, complete with a high-pitched, child-like voice. I feel mildly horrified.
Uno’s tail is wagging so hard his entire spine is undulating.
My sister, trouble-stirrer of note, looks up at me. “Isn’t he handsome, Kate?”
He’s one of the ugliest dogs I’ve ever seen with his long nose, skinny body, and mournful face. “He’s unusual looking,” I concede.
Gideon throws his head back and laughs. I get the sense he’s a man who laughs easily and often. “That’s an interesting way of putting it.”
“I’m a cat person, while Aaron, my husband, is a dog person,” Tess goes on. “I still love dogs though.”
“I’ve only ever had dogs,” Gideon says comfortably.
Don’t these two have work to do? Their attitude is so relaxed, as if they have no problem losing themselves for hours in a conversation. My mind darts to my to-do list sitting at home. No one to check those tasks off except me.
“What about you, Kate?” Gideon asks. “Are you a dog or cat person?”
I’m neither. I barely even qualify as a people person.
Before I can answer, Tess says, “My sister loves dogs. Isn’t that right, Kate?”
Honestly, she ought to have the wordinstigatortattooed on her forehead.
“I love that other people have them,” I say neutrally.
My response elicits an amused grin from Gideon. “Any particular reason you don’t have a dog?” he asks. His tone isn’t confrontational. Instead, he sounds curious.
I look down at Uno panting away happily and shrug. “Dogs are babies that never grow up. I mean, you raise children to be independent, to ultimately look after themselves. But with dogs you have to feed them and take care of them pretty much untilthey die. I don’t see the point of them so why would I subject myself to that?”
Better that Gideon knows right from the start how I feel. A man who is so obviously a dog person will want nothing to do with me, a person who is so clearlynota dog person.
Tess’s eyes are huge. She knew I’d be blunt, but the shocked look on her face says she didn’t anticipate me being brutal.
Annoyance washes through me. In the strain of this moment, I feel a stab of self-loathing. But when I’m catapulted into the memory of standing in the shower, crying, my hostility toward Gideon is greater. Why did the man have to mow my lawn? Why did he have to show a kindness that still has me unsettled?
I push away the concern that I’ve no doubt sabotaged any kind of future relations with my new neighbor. No one expects to be the villain in their own story. And yet here I am, in the alternative edition of my life.
When I finally look up at Gideon, he’s watching me with an inscrutable expression. The directness of his gaze unsettles me, as though he knows something about me no one else does. I feel raw and exposed under his gaze. And then I feel defensive.
What does he think he sees?
Tess stands, breaking up our strange staring contest. “How are you settling in, Gideon?” she asks, trying for a clumsy segue into a neutral topic.
“I’m slowly getting there, only a couple of boxes left to unpack.”
“That’s good to hear. Do you have everything you need?”
“I do, thank you.”
While Gideon’s talking to Tess, I swear his dog is inching slowly toward me. The greyhound is trying to be subtle about it, but I’m watching him out of the corner of my eye and he’s definitely moved closer in my direction.
Gideon flicks a glance at Uno, appearing to notice what his dog is doing. A ghost of a smile crosses his lips, as though the dog’s behavior confirms something. It’s odd, but I get the distinct impression Gideon is havingfun.
