Page 41 of Revenge Brunch and Other Disasters

Rhys closed his eyes and leaned back in the seat. Let the weight of it sit on his chest.

If he went back now—knocked on her door, told her everything—what would happen?

Would she shut down?

Would she let him in?

He didn’t know.

And that uncertainty felt like the most honest thing he’d carried in months.

So he stayed in the car.

In the quiet.

In the not-knowing.

Because sometimes, when you love someone, you let them go upstairs with the dog and the comfort of silence.

Even if it means sitting in the dark and wondering if they’ll ever come back.

Rhys sighed.

Turned on the engine.

He didn’t drive away. Not yet.

But he would.

Eventually.

Maybe.

He looked up at her apartment window. No lights.

He whispered, almost to himself.

“Come back.”

And in the distance, upstairs, Sir Stumps-a-Lot barked once.

Like a promise.

So he’d let her have space.

And the dog.

And possibly half his soul, but who’s counting?

Chapter Twenty-One:A Corgi’s Lament

Sir Stumps-a-Lot

HE HAD BEENleft.

Abandoned.

Dispatched like a short, snorty diplomat to a land of soft blankets and emotional repression.

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