Page 48 of Always Almost You

She set her mug on the end table and opened her arms. “And that includes you too, big guy.”

Buddy went willingly, leaning into her embrace with a contented huff. She wrapped her arms around his thick neck.

Mike watched the scene, warmth spreading through him.

“So,” she said, releasing Buddy and picking up her coffee, “matching flannel Christmas pajamas. I never thought I’d live to see the day.” She pointed at Mike. “Did you find those at the pet store in Raleigh?”

Mike shook his head. “I got them at the hotel gift shop. I spilled coffee all over the only clothes I had with me. By the time I got to the shop, other stranded travelers had claimed every sweatshirt and hoodie. This,” he lifted the collar of his pajama top, “was the only thing left.”

“And you’d already taken in Buddy?”

Mike shook his head again.

She leaned forward, trying to study his face in the glow of the tree lights. “I’d love to hear more.”

Mike inhaled. “It’s quite a story.” He told her everything: the stray dog in the freezing night, Lauren and Pumpkin, the borrowed bowl, and the crumpled gift bag with no note.

When he finished, his mother sat back. “My goodness. That almost sounds like a meet-cute in a holiday movie.”

“Except this one doesn’t have a happy ending.” Mike sighed. “I don’t know how to contact her, or even if she’s interested in me.”

His mother scooted forward, elbows on her knees, mug cradled in her hands. “Oh, she’s interested,” she said firmly. “What was her name, again?”

“Lauren.”

“Lauren,” she repeated thoughtfully. “She’s surely the one who left you the matching dog pajamas.”

Mike shrugged.

“Oh, come now. Who else could it have been?”

“Even if it were her, she didn’t leave a note.”

“You don’t know that,” his mother countered. “You said the bag looked like it had been run over. I’d wager there was a note. Something happened to it.”

Mike stared into his coffee. “Even if you’re right,” he said quietly, “what difference does it make? I can’t get in touch with her.”

“You were both flying from Los Angeles. You just have to find the right Lauren.”

“Is that all? I’ve already done some digging. If she had an unusual name, maybe I might have a chance. But Lauren was one of the most popular names in the late eighties and early nineties. Artificial intelligence estimates there are thousands of Laurens in Los Angeles in that age bracket.”

“So you’re giving up?” his mother asked.

“What choice do I have? I met her once, and only for a few hours. I know nothing about her.” He glanced down at Buddy, now sprawled at his mother’s feet, her hand resting absently on his back. “I’m grateful I met her. I got this guy out of it.”

“I think you learned something else,” she said, taking a thoughtful sip.

“Oh?” he prompted.

“That you’re more open to a relationship than you’ve been telling yourself.”

Mike turned his head away. His mother had an uncanny ability to get to the heart of things.

“You’re still smitten,” she continued. “And if she’s meant for you, you’ll cross paths again. But if not, I hope you keep your heart open when you return to Los Angeles.”

Buddy thumped his tail against the carpet as if in agreement.

Mike pursed his lips. “Speaking of going back,” he said, “I have to leave earlier than planned. It’ll take four days to drive home.”