Page 72 of Lace 'em Up

Twenty-One

King

I sigh and bring Zeus against my chest, watching through the kitchen window as Rory’s car zips down the driveway, its taillights disappearing into the midnight darkness.

“You messed up, bud,” I mutter.

He whines and looks up at me with those big puppy eyes.

“Or maybe I did by encouraging you to be a floofy vacuum,” I tell him, scratching him behind the ears and setting him on his feet. I follow him down, getting on my hands and knees and searching for errant pieces of Rory’s bracelet.

Unfortunately, there aren’t any to be found.

Which means that I might be conducting a different search for charms in the morning, and I’m not looking forward to it.

Which means that my dog has just destroyed Rory’s last possession from her dad.

“Fuck,” I mutter.

“Woof,” Zeus barks softly, coming over and leaning on my leg and foot, a warm weight that’s become familiar.

He did that the first time I went over to Chrissy’s house and saw the menagerie of rescue animals she was keeping—in this case, a litter of corgi pups.

Adorable and troublesome pups.

But Zeus was more chill than his siblings—in charge in a confident, relaxed way that told me he’d be a good fit for my life.

The rest is history.

He loves me, but he’s also cool sleeping in the other room on his cozy pillow.

Not that he’s not aware of where I am at all times. He’s just…cool.

Calm for a corgi—minus the consumption of Rory’s priceless artifacts.

“You’re cool, aren’t you, bud?” I ask, nudging him off my foot, if only to scratch him properly.

The garage door goes, the noise rumbling through the house and sending Zeus’s ears perking. Mine would do the same if I could, and I push up to my feet, move to the window over the sink, hoping to see Rory’s car in the driveway, to watch her pulling back in.

Changing her mind.

Wiping the look of her panic and fear from my mind.

“Woof?” Zeus barks again.

But it’s not Rory.

It’s my mom zipping into the driveway, parking and getting out, walking toward the front door. I inhale, shake off the moroseness clinging to my limbs and force myself to plaster on a natural smile by the time she’s walking into the kitchen.

“Hi, baby,” she says, moving over to me and rising on tiptoe to press a kiss to my cheek. “How was your day?”

Shit. Shittier. And I dropped a shit-ton of cash on a diamond ring that was significantly bigger than something I should have bought, especially for a fake relationship. Then…perfect. For a moment, my day had been perfect.

Holding Rory in my arms.

Soft and warm and smelling of apple pie and flowers.

Our bodies melding together, swaying to the music.

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