Page 100 of The Girlfriend Zone

But when I return to the living room, I only count three.

“Where’s Bippity?” I scan the room. No tawny, yippy pup cuddled with the others.

“Bippity?” My voice is light, but my chest tightens. I check the kitchen first—she’s not by the water bowl. I move to the little library. No tiny pup curled in the corner.

My pulse climbs as I race upstairs. “Bippity!” I call louder. Did I leave the balcony door open? The thought makes my stomach drop.

I fling open the bedroom door, relieved to see the sliding glass door shut tight. But still, no dog. Yanking the phone from my pocket, I toggle over to the dog GPS app Miles installed. As it loads, my heart pounds and I search the en suite bathroom. Then Miles’s walk-in closet filled with suits and dress shirts I should absolutely not touch later, then under the bed.

Nothing.

What if she Houdini-ed her way outside? What if she’s stuck somewhere?

In the app, I click on Bippity’s photo and then ask for her location. While it answers, I rush back down the hall, yanking open the guest room door. It protests with a groan, but I push it harder and hunt under the bed, then the closet, calling her name.

No luck.

The app brags unhelpfully:We found Bippity! She’s at home!

With an exclamation point, no less.

That’s good. Of course that’s good, but my pulse barely settles. I still need to find her and the app doesn’t pinpoint location to a room. After I dash downstairs, I check the backyard, pushing the door open in a nanosecond. No Bippity.

“Where are you, Houdini?”

But the dog still doesn’t answer, and my throat tightens with fear. I don’t want to do this, but I need help. I call Miles.

“Hey,” he answers immediately, the sound of traffic and voices in the background. French, I think, since he’s in Montreal. “I was about to call you.”

What? Why? “You were?” I ask, barely masking my panic.

“Yeah, sorry to be a spy, but I’m guessing you can’t find Bippity. I got a camera alert from the dog-cam in the living room, and you looked a little frantic.”

Relief washes over me, mingling with irritation. “Where is she?”

“Check the guest room.”

“Idid!And the app says she’s in the house, but I can’t find her.”

He chuckles softly. “That’s her spot. The guest room. She likes to hide there sometimes. I should’ve told you—I’m sorry.”

My heart races as I tear down the hall and reach the closed door. Weird. I definitely left it open moments ago. “How can she close the door on herself?”

“It’s the angle. It always falls shut, so I keep it closed, but if she slips in while it’s open, she gets a room of her own.”

I twist the knob and shove the door open. “She’s not here!”

“Look between the pillows,” he says, unbothered.

“That doesn’t make any sense!” I grumble, but I yank the pillows off the bed—and there she is. A little tawny peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich between two big pillows.

“Little stinker,” I mutter, scooping her up andclutching her close. She licks my face, entirely unapologetic.

Miles laughs in my ear.

“You’re laughing at a time like this?” I snap. “You should’ve told me about the Houdini pup!”

“I was going to. I evenstartedto yesterday, but then, well, my brain kind of drained out of my head when you grabbed my tie.”

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