Page 42 of 50 Ways to Win Back Your Lover

She gives him a small wave. “E’s adopting a dog.”

“Is he now?” His hard stare has me wanting to search for cover, but the stark hallway has zero furniture. “The shelter only adopts dogs to competent, caring households. Not sure you qualify.”

Yeah, that hurts. Delilah winces. Luckily my cockroach armor has hardened since my verbal stoning at her shop, and I didn’t replay any grueling memories this morning. Avett’s insult makes a dent in my exoskeleton but doesn’t penetrate.

“I’m sorry,” I offer again. Useless, pathetic apologies. “I’ll grovel if it helps. Even do karaoke and let you choose the songs. Whatever it takes for you to believe I didn’t want to leave back then. I didn’t have a choice and wasn’t able to contact anyone. I can’t explain why yet, but if we were ever friends at all, maybe you can find it in your heart to not hate me.”

His brow crinkles. The timid dog tucks tight into his side. Instead of replying to me, Avett looks at Delilah. “After everything, how can you be friends with him?”

Her hand finds my back again, the dip where my spine’s threatening to curve into a defeated slump. I want her hand there always, rubbing my back, maybe sneaking under the cotton fabric, whispering its comfort over my skin as her lips find my neck and I press my thigh between hers and . . . fuck. I really am a forever man-child, unable to last a minute without fantasizing about my first and only love.

“What happened wasn’t E’s fault,” Delilah says, her palm still supporting my spine. “Messed-up stuff went down with his family, and condemning him for it isn’t fair. His disappearance was as hard on him as it was on us.”

Now I want to hug her. Platonically. Warmly. Thank her for being the best person I know.

Avett’s bearded jaw flexes. He rolls his wide shoulders back, pops his knee a few times. I’m about to give up on reaching a truce, when his stance softens. “If Delilah says you didn’t have a choice, then I guess you didn’t have a choice, and I’m sorry for whatever you’ve been through.”

“Thanks, man.” I rub my sternum, unsure why my ribs feel bruised. “That means more than you know.”

He shifts on his feet, as do I, both of us doing an awkward are-we-friends-now shuffle.

“Are you here for a dog checkup?” Delilah nods to the scrawny dog plastered against Avett’s leg.

He gazes fondly at the pup. “One of her canine teeth was infected when she was brought in. I pulled it last week and wanted to make sure she was healing well.”

“You’re a dog dentist?” I ask.

He smirks. “I prefer the term veterinarian. I work at a clinic, but I do some community work here to help out.”

“Wow. You’re a vet.” I swear I’m not always this dense. But when I look at him, I still see the kid who scrawled Pussies on a piece of paper, snickering as he pinned it to the woodchuck mascot we defaced. “I hope none of your patients are aware you have a history of mutilating their kin.”

His smirk widens. “I’ve had my record expunged. What about you? Have you progressed to vandalizing larger zoo stuffed animals?”

“Not far off. I draw creepy animal-inspired humans.”

We share what feels like a moment. Mutual understanding. An agreement to coast over the hard stuff and progress into a less awkward we’re-sort-of-friends-now shuffle.

The dog by his legs whines. I walk closer to them and crouch, getting down to her eye level. She’s so skinny her ribs protrude through her short brindle coat. One ear is flopped and the other stands upright. Her tongue lolls out of her mouth, likely due to her missing canine tooth, and her dark eyes are so innocent and fearful my heart breaks. “What’s her name?”

“She came in without tags, emaciated and covered in ticks. For now, we’ve been calling her Candy Cane for her brindle stripes.”

Scratch that. My heart didn’t break before. That was just a crack. The organ’s shattered now. Candy Cane is a dog version of me, her true name unknown, her life-giving sustenance denied—in her case food, in mine Delilah.

I hold out my hand for Candy Cane, give her my gentlest face, hoping the scar through my upper lip doesn’t remind her of any bad humans. She leans forward. Just her upper body and face at first, keeping her legs close to Avett. Eventually she ventures closer, one step, then two, then she’s sniffing my hand with her wet nose, extending her neck to smell me. She doesn’t freak out and dash back to Avett. Like the other woman in my life, she must love the scent of Eternity. I let her test her boundaries as we assess each other’s malnourished souls. She shifts closer. I run a gentle hand over her head. When I pull away, she puts her paw on my arm, like she doesn’t want me to go. My heart gives a persistent thump.

In an instant I know: She’s my dog. I’m her human. We’re meant to be.

“How’s my Candy girl?” Mrs. Chan is back, standing next to Delilah, holding another four-legged heartbreaker by a leash.

Avett urges Candy Cane back toward him. “If she passes this checkup, she’ll be ready for adoption.”

“Fantastic.” Mrs. Chan fans her hand toward the playroom door. “Let’s get you situated so you can meet your forever friend.”

I don’t need to meet other adorable homeless pups. Candy Cane is clearly mine. I mean, look at the shattered innocence in those glossy eyes? But this was supposed to be a fun outing for Delilah, who’s had a rough few weeks. “I’ll join you in a second. I just want to have a word with Avett.”

Delilah scrutinizes me. I grin and give her a wave. “In private, if you don’t mind.”

She huffs out a breath and follows Mrs. Chan into the playroom.