Page 20 of Wag More Bark Less

I took a deep breath, then just spit it out. “I was supposed to get married next weekend, but I called it off. I’m taking an extended pit stop here because I can’t stand the thought of everyone at home hovering around me waiting for me to crack.”

“Did you throw a dart at the map?” Alyssa asked, not prying about why I called off the wedding. That was refreshing.

There was no pity, no You poor thing, no reaction at all to admitting I canceled what was supposed to be the happiest day of my life. She didn’t even glance at my empty ring finger. Any tension I’d been holding dissipated instantly.

“Actually, Ellie was born here, weren’t you, girl?”

“She’s a service dog?” Alyssa guessed.

“She was supposed to be.” I scratched the top of Ellie’s head. “But my dog, despite being super smart, has a mind of her own. So they removed her from the program, and I had an opportunity to adopt her a couple years back. So, I took it.”

“How does the jilted groom feel about you keeping her in the almost-divorce?”

“She’s always been mine.” I left out the part about how Jason pitched a fit when I refused to rehome her to make the initial move to Washington. That should’ve been the only sign I needed to realize the relationship was doomed. But eventually, he caved. Blamed his initial shitty suggestion on stress and told me of course Ellie was welcome. Like an idiot, I believed him. “If I’m being honest, he basically just tolerated her.”

“Ew. This ex is going to stay an ex, right?”

“Yes. That’s all behind me.” Well, as much as it could be considering Luanne was still trying to get me to pay her back for the wedding deposits.

“Good. Let’s keep it that way.” She lifted her to-go cup in a toast before taking a sip.

A tight squeeze in my chest threatened to drum up emotions, and I pinched my lips together to keep rogue tears from forming. Though it felt a little like my world was upside down, going back wasn’t an option. I could never again see Jason the way I once did. He ruined that when I found him standing guard outside the bedroom door as his mother tried on a dress I strictly forbid her from touching.

“Hey, you should come to Yoga on the Water Sunday morning.” Alyssa pointed at a bright yellow flyer behind the counter, pinned to a very full bulletin board, beside a flyer advertising an upcoming town-wide chili cookoff. “It’s the last one of the season.”

“On the water?”

“Yeah. Don’t worry. You don’t actually get in the water. Technically it’s called SUP Yoga, but Yoga on the Water has a nicer ring to it.”

“SUP?”

“You do yoga on a stand-up paddleboard.”

“I don’t have a paddleboard.”

“You can rent one.” Alyssa seemed to sense my hesitation. “It’s great for getting into your Zen place. You could probably use that after the whole runaway bride thing.”

“You might be right,” I mused.

“Here you go, hun,” the server said, placing a brown paper sack with handles and the restaurant logo printed on either side on the counter in front of Alyssa. “I included extra strawberry jam.”

“You’re the best, Nora.”

Nora turned to me, revealing laugh lines around her eyes and wisps of blonde hair escaping from her net. She looked tired, but her smile was genuine.

“You ready to order, hun?”

“Get the backcountry skillet. You’ll thank me later,” Alyssa said, touching my arm as she slipped off her stool. “And you should definitely come Sunday. I’ll be offended if you don’t.” With those words, she whisked away and disappeared into the growing crowd.

I wanted to believe I made a friend. I was a master at winning over the elderly crowd, but finding genuine connections within my own age bracket seemed to be a challenge I’d yet to overcome. If I was going to take a chance on Alyssa, it started with trusting her recommendation, right? I looked at Nora and said, “Backcountry skillet it is.”

EIGHT

LUKE

“Why am I counting birdseed while you get the power tools?” I asked my brother as I stared at the list of departments I’d be responsible for inventorying today—lawn and garden, pet supplies, cleaning supplies, and all the miscellaneous bullshit. Meanwhile, Connor got tools, electrical, and paint.

Opal, my nine-year-old niece, giggled. The sound of her laughter always thawed a layer of ice around my otherwise frozen heart, but I kept my sour expression firmly in place out of spite. I hadn’t had enough coffee for this. In fact, with Miss Mayhem showing up unannounced in my kitchen this morning, I was so distracted by those long, bare legs I forgot to even make coffee.