Page 19 of The Billionaire's Pawfect Match

“I know you lost your dad too?—”

“It’s okay. Just forget it.”

But how can I forget? How can I ignore the glimpse of sorrow that flitted across his face, or the way his voice broke on the last word?

“Isaac,” I try again, but he’s already moving, sweeping up Baxter’s leash with a swift motion that leaves no room for protest.

“Thanks for your help, Emily. But we’ll manage on our own.” Each word is another step back, another wall he’s building between us.

“Isaac, please—” My plea is cut off as he opens the door, letting in a gust of cool evening air. It swirls around us, a tangible reminder of the distance that has suddenly appeared.

He doesn’t look back as he steps outside, Baxter trailing behind him. The door closes with a soft click, sealing off the warmth of my home, leaving me alone with the lingering scent of his cologne and the ghostly impression of his presence.

I sink onto the couch, sitting on my knitting and not caring. I don’t think I crossed a line — I was only pointing out that Baxter is grieving too and we need to take that into account — but Isaac acted like I’d slapped him.

Now he and Baxter are gone, and I probably won’t see them again. My heart throbs at the thought — for myself, for Isaac, for Baxter. We were a good team, really building something there.

And now we’re just lonely ships in the night once more.

CHAPTER 11

ISAAC

“Come on,” I mutter to Baxter. “Get in the car.”

It’s early morning, the fresh air cold and judgmental. I’m not stopping to think about what I’m doing, and it’s better that way. If I do stop, I’ll come up with all these reasons why I need to turn around and go back into the apartment.

Baxter jumps in the car, excited for the ride, and I start the engine with a grimace on my face. I’m running on only a few hours of sleep, and not because Baxter chewed anything up — I at least had the sense to get him a crate, so that wasn’t possible last night.

All night long, this whole mess has been running on replay in my head. Dad always knew how to push my buttons, how to make me jump through hoops just to get a cookie. And this dog — this whirlwind of chaos with fur — is his final masterstroke. To think I’m surrendering, letting go of the company, just to rid myself of this last tether to him… it’s galling.

Everyone will smirk and roll their eyes. Talk about how I don’t measure up to my father. Right now, though, I don’t give a shit. I just want this disaster to be over.

We pull into the shelter parking lot, and the sign looms overhead.Second Chances Animal Shelter.My grip tightens on the steering wheel, knuckles bleaching with the force of it.

Is this what giving up feels like? Just another thing Dad was right about — I never see anything through.

“Okay, Baxter. This is it,” I say, reaching for the door handle. “I’d say it was nice knowing you, but it wasn’t. You’re someone else’s problem now.”

But then, there’s a weight on my arm, gentle but insistent. I glance down, and there’s Baxter, suddenly still, his brown eyes holding mine, paw resting over my wrist.

Is this a plea or an apology? Or maybe both?

“Damn it, Baxter.” My voice is rough, grating against the silence between us.

I try to summon the resolve to shake him off, to reclaim that righteous indignation, but it fizzles out, replaced by an unfamiliar ache. What I’m doing isn’t right… and I know it.

I’m also more than this.

I sit still, locked in this moment of hesitation, until the seconds stretch into minutes. It’s not just about the inheritance, not really. It’s also about commitment, about following through. And it’s about this dog — who somehow, despite the shredded pillows and the sleepless nights, has burrowed his way into the reluctant shelter of my responsibility.

“Fine,” I exhale, my breath fogging up the window. “You win, you stubborn mutt.”

With a resigned sigh, I start the car and peel out of the parking lot. Baxter shifts in his seat, settling down with a contented huff, as if he knew all along that this was how our morning would end.

“If you’re gonna stay with me, though, we need to get you some more toys. You need something to do instead of destroy everything I own.”

I get GPS directions to the closest pet store, where Baxter’s ears perk up in excitement when he realizes we’re going somewhere new.

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