Page 83 of The Book Club Boyfriend
Rip immediately climbs into my lap.
Correction: heattemptsto climb into my lap. It’s more of a large-dog flop that results in me half-straddled under eighty pounds of fluffy fur. My knees are numb, but my heart feels surprisingly lighter.
Chase looks far too pleased with himself. “Told you. Therapy dog.”
I stroke a hand down Rip’s side, my fingers sinking into his thick fur. “Okay, yeah, this is working suspiciously well.”
He shrugs and opens his own pint. “He’s good at his job.”
I dig into the chocolate peanut butter cup, letting the cold sweetness anchor me.
We sit in silence for a moment. Rip lays his head on my belly and blinks up at me with his big brown eyes.
Chase leans back, his arm draped along the back of the couch—close but not touching. “Wanna tell me what happened?”
I shake my head. “Not really.”
He nods, like that’s okay too.
We sit in silence for a beat. Then I say it quietly. “He’s getting married.”
Chase doesn’t ask who. He doesn’t press. He just waits.
“My ex,” I add, feeling the need to clarify. “The guy I thought was the one. Back when I still believed in all that stuff.”
Chase stays quiet. I’m sure he’s piecing it all together right now.
I gesture with my spoon. “Instagram announcement. Filtered to hell. They look like a stock photo. ‘When you know, you know,’ she wrote in the caption.” I scoff. “I knew too. At least, I thought I did.”
Chase leans forward, elbows on his knees, his gaze steady. “You didn’t deserve that.”
“I let him in. I let him see all of me. And he still left.”
Chase’s jaw tightens. “Then he’s an idiot.”
I blink at him. “What?”
“You let someone in, and they bail? That’s not on you, Scarlett. That’s on them. He didn’t leave because you weren’t enough; he left because he wasn’t.”
I look down at Rip, his head heavy on my lap, and suddenly I want to cry again—but I don’t. Because somehow this—ice cream, dog fur, and Chase telling me I’m not unlovable—is doing something dangerous to my chest.
He clears his throat, as if he feels it too. “Also, for the record, chocolate peanut butter cup is a criminally underrated flavor.”
I smirk, wiping a tear off my cheek. “You brought it just to say that, didn’t you?”
“Partially. Also, because it fixes almost everything.”
“And Rip?”
He leans back and props his feet up on my coffee table. “He’s here to seal the deal.”
Rip lets out a loud snore.
And for the first time today, I laugh—really laugh.
Itdoesn’t fix everything.
But it’s a start.
