That made me laugh. “I’m really not good at this sort of thing.”
“I know. I’m probably worse at it than you are. But you have a chance to fix it. So, do so.”
“I could love him, Zoey. I think if I let myself. I could really love him.”
“I know. So, wallow a bit more tonight. We’re going to finish this movie, even though it makes me cry just thinking about it.”
“I know. Same.”
“And then you’re going to shower, wipe off whatever cookie dough you have smeared all over yourself, and stop looking like the bedraggled old mess that you are.”
“You’re such a good friend. Honest. But good.”
“I’m sure you’d do the same for me. Not that I’ll ever actually let myself get to this point, but I digress.”
I gave her a look, and she shook her head.
No, tonight was not about Zoey and her decisions. Tonight was all about me.
And, yes, I needed to fix this.
And I would.
Because I could love Devin.
If I let myself. I just had to figure out how to do that.
Chapter 16
Devin
* * *
Today sucked.But then again, most days this week had.
I did my best not to look the dog in the eye as I finished up my route. But it kept stalking me, its little claws tapping on the pavement behind me.
Seriously. I did not have a problem with dogs. I loved them. Mostly. But I did not like the dogs on my route.
The beast yipped at me, its little high-pitched bark grating my ears. And then it growled, still high-pitched, with just a slightly deeper tone to it. I finished up the mail for the day, closed the community mailbox, and then turned to look at the dog. I didn’t need this today.
It kept barking, coming closer to me with each hop, and then backing away. One hop forward. Bark. Back away. Hop forward. Yip. Back away.
“Okay, buddy. Where’s your mama?” I asked. I knew that the dog lived two doors down with a single woman who enjoyed coming out to get the mail from me personally. She always made sure that her tank top was pushed just a little lower so I could get an eyeful of her ample bosom.
Yes, I used the word bosom. Because that’s what it felt like. Like I was meat on a stick, and she wanted to rub herself all over me. And, of course, she always brought the dog.
That thing had tried to bite me at least six times since I started this route.
One that was coveted by others at my station, and yet no one really wanted to deal with this particular canine. It wasn’t mean, not really. It just had that little dog personality where it needed to protect its territory even though it was itty-bitty.
I couldn’t reach down and pick it up because I didn’t want to get in trouble for kidnapping a dog. Nor did I want to get bit.
However, I couldn’t really move either. Because if I did, it followed me, yapping. If I tried to get closer to the truck, I was afraid it would go under a wheel or something or run out into the middle of the street and get hit.
Dear God. I was exhausted.
I hadn’t been sleeping. I was no longer used to sleeping alone. And didn’t that just piss me the fuck off?