Page 40 of Love in Training
His brow furrows.
Just then, a door swings open, and a tech with two braids and a nose ring comes bouncing toward the German shepherd. “Is that my Diesel?”
The dog looks over at Drew, who mutters, “Release.”
The shepherd immediately rises, albeit stiffly, from the floor and wags its tail as she offers him treats. “Who’s ready for acupuncture?” She rubs his neck. “Areyou?”
Drew glares back in my direction. But just when I think he’s finally going to leave, he leans close, voice low in my ear. “I meant what I said.” He strokes Rufus’s chin one last time. “I’ll pay cash if you’ll let me have him. And cover his vet bill too.”
I press my lips together, needing no reminder of my financial straits. But when his cold green eyes meet mine, my vision darkens around the edges. I learned a long time ago never to trust the Forbes family. Starting the day Kyle enlisted, when they turned their backs on him. And reinforced when they declined the invitation to our ill-fated wedding. But worst of all, notoneof them bothered to call me when Kyle died. I only found out by chance, on social media, of all places. And when I showed up at the memorial service, they actually seemed surprised. Just another reason I can’t bring myself to hand one of them his dog.
I rise on tiptoe, bringing my lips close to Drew’s ear. “I’d sell him to a sausage factory before I’d sell him to you.”
“Here’s Rufus’s prescription,” the receptionist says, blustering toward me with an orange pill bottle. “Sorry about the wait.”
Drew watches with an icy stare as she goes over the instructions, his expression so tight I’m tempted to punch him and see if he breaks.
“Puppy Prozac.” I wave the bottle at him as I head for the door. “Maybe you should try some—though I hear nothing helps bad breeding.”
I don’t sleep much again that night. I have this weird dream where I keep running into Kyle, except every time he turns around, it’s actually Drew. My brain finally ceases this torture around one a.m., when I get out of bed to make herbal tea. And wind up taking the dog out because he thinks it’s morning.
Once we’re back inside, I head for my closet, to the shoebox shoved in the back with the garment bag still holding my wedding dress. The dog watches as I take it out and set it on the bed, but has the decency to stay over on the couch.
Lifting the lid feels like exhuming a grave.
There’s an assortment of history inside. Documents. Trinkets. A ring box.
I remove the one I’m interested in—a framed photo stored face-down—and quickly replace the lid. But it takes a few minutes before I’m ready to turn it over and look at the picture.
When I do, it feels like I’m staring at a pair of strangers from long ago. A carefree girl lifted off her feet in the arms of her handsome, rugged hero. They’re both grinning, like neither of them has a worry in the world. Because they have no idea what’s to come.
I let out a long-held breath. Then I rise from the bed, ready to bury the frame back in the box.
Except I can’t.
My chest aches at the thought. Or maybe, after a night of bad dreams, I just need comfort. So I wander around my tiny apartment until I find a place for the photo on a little table by my door. Where I can look at it and remember that once, a long time ago, Kyle and I were enough for each other.
DREW
“Drew,dear, would you pass the butter?”
He raised his eyes from his plate for the first time that evening, dutifully passing the crystal dish to his mother. For the last twenty minutes, they’d been listening to his father complain about patients whose lives he’d saved. People who didn’t speak English or didn’t have insurance. People he deemed “indigents” while making sure to highlight his generosity in helping them.
“It’s lucky you knew how to treat them,” Drew recited from his bank of acceptable responses.
His mother smiled warmly, tucking her smooth gray hair behind her ear.
Dr. W. Andrew Forbes straightened in his chair.“When you have a gift, it’s important to share it with the world.”
Drew stuffed his mouth full of coq au vin.
“Speaking of sharing talent, I’mveryenthusiastic about our first scholarship recipient,” said his mother. “Such a deserving, disadvantaged young man. A great pick to begin your brother’s legacy.”
He twisted his napkin in his lap, forcing himself to chew and swallow. Drew couldn’t help morbidly wondering if Kyle might have reconsidered killing himself if he’d had any idea how theirparents would distort his memory. But he supposed that wasn’t fair.
“Anyway, I’m glad you could make it to dinner this week so we can discuss the ceremony,” Dr. Patricia Forbes said pointedly.
His father raised a brow. “Yes, what kept you last week?”
