Page 65 of The Mr. Right Checklist

Fletch:

I don’t do cute. That’s your department.

Destiny:

You do cute all the time! You just don’t know it. Like right now, I bet you’re frowning and your eyebrows are pinched together.

Destiny:

How can she possibly know?

Destiny:

The damn hearts force my scowl into a smile. I imagine the tease in her eyes, the dimple in her cheek, and that sassy smile, so different from the sensual one I’ve gotten used to seeing at night. Fuck. Now I want to see her again. I need to end the conversation before I change my mind.

Fletch:

You’re right about the look, not the cuteness. Thanks again, sunshine. Have a good night.

Destiny:

The emotions I’m trying to squash have pushed to the surface. I look at the phone, anticipating her usual trail of texts popping up. When they don’t, I tell myself that’s a good thing. Tonight is going to be great. Just me and Molly and some much-needed peace and quiet. I set my phone on the table and head upstairs to change.

As I toss my work clothes into the hamper, I see my shirts Destiny slept in the nights she stayed over. I’m tempted to pull one out and see if it smells like her. What the ever-loving hell is wrong with me? I pull on shorts and a T-shirt, grab the hamper, and traipse downstairs to the laundry room. After I dump the clothes into the washer, I’m reaching for a detergent pod when Molly walks past the door dragging that damn green blanket from the guest room. I’ve owned that blanket for years, and she’s never taken a liking to it. Destiny uses it a few times and suddenly it becomes Molly’s favorite?

What the hell kind of torture is this?

I turn on the washer and head back to the living room. Molly is lying on the couch with the blanket beneath her front paws, gnawing on her antler. I grab the remote and plop down beside her. She eyes me warily. “A lot of help you are, looking at me like that.”

She paws at my arm as I turn on the television. I feel guilty for acting like she did something wrong. It’s not Molly’s fault I’m cutting her off from Destiny and Clementine cold turkey for a night. I pet her head. “Sorry, Mol. This is going to be great. Just like old times. We’ll watch an episode of The Office.” I flip to the show, but as it comes on, I grit out a curse and turn off the television.

Molly looks at me curiously.

“Destiny would be upset if we jumped ahead without her.” Molly’s ears perk up at Destiny’s name. I push to my feet and grab the book I picked up the other night when Destiny and I had dinner at the café and then hit the bookstore. I sit back down and kick my feet up on the coffee table, settling in to read.

Five minutes later I’ve read the same paragraph a dozen times, and I’m itching to see Destiny. Molly paws at me, looking at me expectantly. “We can handle one night without her.”

Molly tilts her head to the side, like she understands every word I’m saying, and barks.

“Yeah, no shit. I miss her, too. But we can’t afford to get attached.” I set the book down and love her up. My phone rings. “There’s our sunshine. I knew she couldn’t stay away.” As I jump to my feet, I bang my shin on the coffee table. “Fuck!” Molly leaps off the couch as I grab my shin, hopping on one foot toward the dining room table. “Ow. Shit. Damn it.” The phone rings again, and I hurry over and snag it. “Hey,” I say, before the phone even gets to my ear.

“Expecting a call?”

Marshall. “No. What’s going on?”

“What are you up to tonight?”

“Hanging with Molly, reading. Why? What’s going on with you?”

“There’s a concert at the park. I thought you’d want to know your girl’s here having a picnic.”

I bite back the urge to ask who she’s with and try to ignore the uncomfortable feeling gripping me. “I told you she’s not my girl. She can go to a concert if she wants to.”

“In that case, maybe I’ll stick around and get to know her better. Have fun with Molly.”

The line goes dead.

Fuck that. “Let’s go, Molly. We’re going for a walk.”