Page 73 of Leashed

When the microwave dinged, he tossed the boiling container onto the stove and threw the second one in, mixing the first unappetizing meal to ensure each bite had an equal amount of hot and frozen pasta.

Fucking. Pathetic.

*

Sage hauled thelast suitcase into her living room while Nixon leaned against the kitchen counter, brows furrowed as he tapped out a message on his phone. “How many trips is this going to take to bring it to your car? I need to get to a meeting across the city by five, and since my place is completely set, it’s pointless to clutter it up with unnecessary junk.”

Lifting the last of her artwork from the wall of her bedroom, she sat back on her haunches and looked around the barren room. “I think I got it all. Most of it is going into the storage locker I rented.” She glanced at her desk, an antique she’d sanded and painted lavender years ago when she’d begun her schooling. “The charity van is coming later this week to pick up the furniture.”

Her stuff sat in the middle of the bedroom, a meagre stack of six boxes, five framed prints, and three small satchels. An overnight bag was on the bed, ready for her last night in her apartment before she moved into Nixon’s and began the next stage of her life.

*

Sage sat alonein the back booth of Bean There, Done That, her coffee cooling as she stared out the window at the empty park and debated whether she was hoping to see a tall blond walk out or dreading it.

“Bo’s mate,” a familiar voice called and she looked over to see Clotho approaching, a large latte in hand. “May I join you? I’m waiting for my friends to arrive.”

“You mean your topside friends, right?” she replied. “Take a seat.”

The woman didn’t appear remotely fazed as she set her drink down. “Good. You’re aware. We’re one step closer to you wising up. Step two is determining why you feel you must marry that man.”

Pursing her lips, she leaned back. “You mean why am I marrying the man I’ve been dating for five years?”

“Your line indicates the relationship was intended to end three years ago. Now you’re merely bucking Fate and it’s my job to figure out how,” Clotho countered. “What pull does this man have that Bo is unable to break past?”

Taking a sip of her coffee, she bought herself time to formulate a response. “He checks the boxes,” she finally stated weakly, providing the answer she’d used to soothe her own panic every time she thought about it. “Bo’s a great guy. Or dog. Or deity.” Blinking the reminder away, she took another sip. “But guys like Bo aren’t built to settle down.”

“As one who helped build him, I disagree,” Clotho murmured, fixing her silver eyes on her with a dead stare for a moment before she shook her head, a sly smile forming on her lips. “You should stay and hang out for a bit. My friends would love to meet you.”

*

Bo sat inhis truck down the street from Bean There, Done That and watched as two more couples walked to the door arm in arm. Taking a deep breath, he got out and straightened the sleeves of his leather jacket, slipping into the cafe among a larger group of people.

This is a huge fucking mistake.

He’d been debating Clotho’s invite for the past hour, his mind so preoccupied he’d walked out of his apartment twice without his keys.

While his initial reaction had been to ignore the text, he’d managed to rationalize himself into his truck, onto the freeway, and in front of the cafe where Sage had joined C’s crew for the evening.

He hadn’t hung out with C in a while.

He needed a break from staring at his walls.

He was just going to pop in for the sake of politeness.

Running his hands through his hair and tugging an elastic off of his wrist, he pulled his hair into a ponytail and ordered two specialty coffees.

Clotho was watching for him through the crowd and she beelined to him, ushering him back toward the entrance. “She does not know you’re coming.”

“Not a big deal,” he muttered, adjusting his hold on the drinks. “I’m just here to hang out for a bit. If she’s too weirded out by it, I’ll go.” Looking back at the line of cars in front of the cafe, he frowned. “Buddy-boy’s not coming, is he?”

Her silver eyes darkened. “I’m not an idiot.”

Following her to the booths where her group were sitting, he kept his gaze averted from the space where Sage sat, a tray of nachos in front of her as she listened to three of Clotho’s “friends” discuss animal rights. Her eyes widened when he walked by, her hand freezing midgrab by the plate before she swallowed and drew her one leg up onto the seat.

He set the coffees down as he sat across the table and eased one of the cups toward her. When she didn’t reach for it, he held it out in her direction, still unable and unwilling to look at her.

There was a long pause, but eventually her fingers wrapped around it.

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