Page 62 of The Match

She settles in beside Sam and wraps an arm around her shoulders. The sight shakes me. I’m speechless.

“Listen to me, hon, and remember this for the rest of your life: it’s always okay to go home. Anytime you feel uncomfortable or scared, never worry about what anyone else is going to think if you call your dad and have him come get you. Your house is a safe place, and you love being there, and that’s something to be proud of, not embarrassed about.”

A car honks at me, and I realize I’ve sat through most of a green light listening to Evie give my daughter the best speech I’ve ever heard. I kind of just want to roll down my window and wave the jerk behind me to go on by. I’m clearly having a moment.

“You’re not disappointed in me?” Sam asks Evie, not me.

It also strikes me that Sam is not even questioning why Evie is in the car. It’s like she knew she would be. Like she’s a part of our life now. How do I feel about that?

Evie squeezes Sam. “Never. I’m so stinking proud of you for even giving it a try. Do you know that it took me a whole six months with Charlie before I felt brave enough to go anywhere without a friend with me? But there was nothing wrong with that either. We all find our bravery at different times, and that’s perfectly fine.”

Sam smiles and settles her head on Evie’s shoulder. Evie kisses the top of Sam’s head and brushes her hair away from her face.

The sight is tearing me up inside. In my little rectangular mirror, I see the most perfect picture of a woman who doesn’t have to be here, caring for my little girl who adores her, and their service dogs on either side of them.

Evie connects with Sam in a way that I will never be able to. This should upset me, but for some reason it relieves me. Maybe I won’t have to do everything on my own after all. Maybe Sam will get to have a mother who cares for her like she deserves.

And dammit.

Those thoughts do not sound casual. They sound a lot like commitment.

CHAPTER 28

Evie

The morning after the best date of my life, I’m trying hard to focus while training a handful of our volunteers in the techniques of walking with loose leashes. They’re going to have to teach these skills to a new batch of puppies, and it’s important they know what they’re doing. But I can’t keep my brain from wandering back to last night and how it felt to sit on Jake’s counter and kiss him.

“Evie, is this okay?” asks a volunteer.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” I reply, still in a daze until I realize that the pup is practically dragging the woman across the lawn to chase a butterfly. I snap into action, gaining both the puppy’s and the volunteer’s attention, and quickly run back over the instructions on how to get the puppies to mind their manners on the leash.

We go on and on like this for a time, and I can’t seem to keep myself from checking my phone every couple of minutes to see if Jake has texted me. I’m quite literally pathetic. I’ve gone from an independent woman to a needy girlfriend overnight. Actually, I’m not even his girlfriend. Just a needy girl with a Texas-sized crush on the guy she’s seeing casually.

Finally, the workday is over, and I’m on my way home. I feel so let down from not hearing from Jake that I think my arms are actually dragging on the ground as I walk. There’s sad music playing in my head, and I’m just about to break out in a melancholy ballad and let my hands drag across a field of wheat when I hear my phone ringing in my purse.

I pause on the sidewalk right outside of a bakery and pull out my phone. I don’t even look at the caller ID because I’m certain that it’s Jake. I think we have that special telepathy that couples get when they’ve been together a long time.

“Helllloooo.” My flirtatious tone is dialed up to ten.

“Evelyn Grace, why do you sound like an inappropriate phone operator of some sort?” Ugh. Mom. Apparently, Jake and I do need a little more time for those superpowers to kick in.

“How would you even know what one of those ladies sounds like, Mom?”

She’s quiet for a second, and I take that opportunity to give myself a point in the book of Evie versus Melony I started a few years ago. My therapist says it’s not healthy, but what does she really know anyway?

Mom apparently doesn’t have a good rebuttal for that question, so she decides not to answer it. “I’m sure you’re busy petting puppies, so I’ll make this quick.” I think she has a tally book too and is probably adding a tick to her column right now, but she would be wrong. That one didn’t even hurt, because ha ha, the joke’s on her, I already did my puppy petting this morning, and it was a lovely way to spend my time as well as an important part of socializing the new pups.

I decide to sit on the bench outside the bakery to finish this chat instead of continuing my walk home, because I have a feeling that I’m going to need some carb therapy after I hang up. “Very kind of you to consider my time,” I say and lean over to pet Charlie’s head.

“I’ll cut right to the chase. I want you to come to the house for dinner Wednesday night.”

“Umm thanks, but no thanks.”

“If you would have let me finish, you would have heard why I want you to come to dinner.”

I wince and shut my eyes because I can smell a Melony Jones special coming down the line: a fancy dinner that costs more than my entire week’s worth of groceries, dessert that melts in my mouth, and a big helping of manipulation on the side.

“I would like for you to come to dinner because your dad and I have decided to make a sizable donation to your little dog business.” Yep. There it is.

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