Page 105 of Worst in Show

“I think you lying about already being one says differently.”

I sink farther into the seat as if deflating. “Yeah, I know I’m not being fair. It’s just hard, you know. Things aren’t going super well for me, and here you are nominated for Best New Business by the Chamber of Commerce.”

His head whips my way. “I am?”

“It was in the town newsletter.”

He seems to take in this news with a mixture of confusion and pleasant surprise. “When do they announce the winner?”

“The end of the year.” I look down at my hands resting in my lap. “I’m happy for you.”

He touches the brake pedal lightly as we come to a stop at an intersection. The roads are slushy, but his SUV handles well. “Are you? If you ask me, it doesn’t quite sound like it. I’m trying to be supportive. Getting a bit of that back would be great.”

“Yes, it’s super supportive to open a competing store across the street,” I mutter.

His hands tighten on the steering wheel. “I thought you’d stopped seeing us as rivals.”

“It’s kind of hard not to when we did fine every year until you got here.”

“Harvey has been out of the picture.”

My face flares. “So it’s because I’m in charge?”

“No, that’s not—”

All my self-doubt and worry that have been building over the past few days boil over. “What do you need from me? A pat on the back? Here.” I tap his shoulder. “Well done. There, is that better?”

He grinds his teeth together around a rebuttal I no doubt deserve but that he’s too much of a gentleman to say out loud. The seething silence drags out until, finally, he speaks in a measured tone. “You like that I work hard for things. You’ve said so yourself. That I set goals and reach for them. That I’m ambitious. Don’t you see? I want to be the best, not just for me, but for people I care about, too. For you. My dad may not be father of the year, but at least he’s always been that person for my mother.”

Hot tears of shame and frustration threaten behind my lids. “But I don’t need you to be the best. I’d still like you if you messed up completely. And right now, it’s hard not to feel like you’re—or whatever, the universe—is rubbing it in. I’m failing, you’re not.”

He takes a moment. Then he nods. “You know what the only difference between us is?” he asks, gently. “I want to be here and do this. You don’t. That’s it. If design is truly your passion, go for it.”

“Who’s making things sound easy now?”

“Well, it is.”

“Not to mention if Happy Paws goes away, Canine King will do even better.”

He huffs out a sharp breath at my snide remark. “Now you’re deliberately looking for a fight. You know that’s not what I’m after anymore, and I still think we can coexist.”

“Either way, I can’t leave Harvey and the dogs.”

“I’m certain he’d find a good place for them. He wants you to be happy.” He gestures with an open hand to the landscape outside our little bubble. “All I’m asking is that you also consider your life. You could do something of your own that will be a great success and that makes you happy.”

“Or it would be a great flop. I’m good at those.” I tilt my head back. “I’m sorry. I’m just in a terrible mood today.”

He puts the car in reverse and backs up to the house to park. It’s snowing heavier here. After fifteen seconds of immobility, the hood of the car is already turning white. He twists in his seat to face me and reaches out a finger to push my too large, knitted cap up above my brow. “You do look a bit like a petulant gnome in this,” he says with a smile. “Please. Let’s not fight.”

I rest my cheek against his hand. A lone tear trickles across my left temple.

“I’ll make you a deal, okay?” he says softly, as if worried about rousing the beast again. “I’ll tell my dad to shove it, and you tell Harvey you two have to make a plan that involves you pursuing your dreams.”

I inhale deeply and nod. “Okay. I’m sorry I’m being such a B.”

He pushes a strand of hair behind my ear. “It’s not me, it’s you?”

That pulls a soft laugh out of me. “Totally. I didn’t mean it.”

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