Page 98 of Better Luck Next Time

She gave him a look, and he felt himself blushing a little. “I got some after she ran away a few months ago. I figured River might be more willing to forgive me if I caught her and brought her home.”

She nudged him a little with her shoulder. “That worked out for you pretty well, now didn’t it?”

“Yes,” he said honestly. “It did.”

“I think they’ll do okay without food for now. They always eat breakfast late, but maybe we can give them something later.”

Did that mean she intended to stay for a while?

He unlocked the door and opened it, waving for Tyrion to go in, but he stood to the side until a streak of black shot through the opening. Tyrion padded in after Jezebel, then looked back to see if Adalia would follow. Which she did. Finn shut the door behind them.

By the time he’d turned back around, Tyrion was curled up on his couch, Jezebel perched on the back of the cushion above him. Both appeared as comfortable as if they’d lived there their whole lives.

Adalia gave him a slightly worried look, as if she thought it might shatter his psyche to see them curled up on his sofa, and he found himself laughing again.

“I don’t care if they shed,” he said. “They make vacuums for a reason. Why don’t you check in with Jack to see what happened? I’ll get some things ready for them.”

But she groaned as soon as she pulled her phone out of her fanny pack.

“That’s probably why he didn’t say anything. My battery’s dead. Again.”

And no wonder. Her cell phone dated back to the first generation of portable phones.

“I’d tell you to plug it in,” he said, “but there’s no way I have a charger for that. If you know his number, you can call him on my phone.” He pulled it out of his bro bag and handed it over. “Or call Dottie and ask her to pass on the message.”

“Thanks, Finn,” she said, leaving her hand on his for a moment. “For everything. Maybe you can give me a tour of the upstairs once they’re settled.”

She winked as she said it, and he felt at once turned on and amused—she’d said it like a mom talking in code around her toddler.

“I’d like that,” he said.

She sat next to Tyrion to make her calls, and he found a couple of old dog dishes in his closet, along with a rope chew toy Maisie had told him to keep, making it clear she fully intended to guilt him into taking another foster. After filling one of the dishes with water, he found himself questioning the likelihood they would share and got them another Tupperware full of water. He could hear Adalia on the phone, but he didn’t process what she was saying until he came back in with the water bowls.

“I’m not sure,” she said. “But it may be after dinner. They’re safe.”

He lowered the bowls and the chew toy, which Tyrion and Jezebel promptly ignored, and looked at Adalia as she said goodbye and hung up the call.

“Dottie had Jack’s number. He feels insanely guilty,” she said, massaging the area between her eyebrows. “I don’t know why he was home—something about a phone call from Chicago—but he says he’ll explain later. Anyway…I guess he let Tyrion out, and Jezebel shot out the back. Tyrion started howling, then jumped the fence to follow her. Jack’s been roaming the neighborhood for the last hour with pockets full of treats.”

It occurred to Finn that it might be of some significance that Adalia had called Dottie for the number instead of Georgie. Was it because her sister would have advised her to go home? But he didn’t have much time to consider it. She reached out and patted Tyrion, who leaned into the caress. “He’s a loyal dog. I admire loyalty. Even if it’s to Jezebel.”

She bent down to kiss Tyrion’s nose and then stood from the sofa. “They look like they’re exhausted by their adventure,” she said. “I think we can take that tour.”

She held out her elbow like she had at the Biltmore, and he took it.

“I always prefer to start a tour in the master bedroom, don’t you?” he asked.

“I like the way you think.”

They walked up the stairs together, sides pressed together, and his heart pounded madly as he led her to his room. How many times had he imagined this? Well, he’d never imagined it quite likethis, but in a weird way, it felt right. Because it was their kind of chaos.

He opened the door to the room, only then remembering that he probably should have warned her. Because across from them hung the painting he’d pieced together with glue. The cracks only made it more beautiful.

He’d kept the painting because she’d given it to him, however spitefully.

Because he couldn’t bear to throw anything of hers away.

Because, even though it radiated pain, it was stunningly beautiful.

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