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“So,” Paige said, tucking her feet up under her. “Are you going to tell me why you’ve checked your phone fourteen times since you got here, or do I have to guess?”
“I haven’t checked it fourteen times.”
“Fifteen, then. I lost count during the lasagne.”
Lauren sighed and held out her phone. Paige leaned over and read the screen.
Thanks for last night. I enjoyed it. More than I’ve enjoyed anything in a while. Berkeley says thank you for the chicken.
Paige read it twice. “When did she send that?”
“Monday morning. Half seven.”
“And what did you say back?”
“I said any time.” Lauren took the phone back. “And a dog emoji.”
“Romantic.”
“It’s not romantic. That’s the point.” Lauren shoved the phone under her leg. “She’s like… nice to me and stuff. She told me how much she enjoyed hanging out. There was no but. Not a single one. I’ve never been around a butless woman, and I’m enjoying it.” She stared at the ceiling. “The only thing that bummed me out is her saying she’s glad we’re friends.”
Paige smiled. “Are you saying you wish you were more than mates? With a woman who’s nice to you?”
Lauren went to deny it. It’s nothing. I already told you.
It didn’t come out.
“I think I am,” she said.
Paige’s face did something complicated. “Wow. I never thought I’d see the day. This is real growth.”
“I know. Perhaps it’s for the best that I can’t ask her out, because of work and football, though. She’s my landlord. She’s my centre-back. I’d only fuck it up.”
“What?” Paige leaned across and shoved her shoulder, hard enough that Reggie opened one offended eye. “Don’t say that. Of course you wouldn’t.”
“I would. Happy relationships aren’t my thing. I wouldn’t know what to do with one.”
“You’d learn. Trust me.”
“Yeah, well, it’s a moot point, because she isn’t interested anyway.” Lauren thought about the lamplight, the moment Carly had pulled back. “I’m sticking to dogs.”
Paige drew breath to say something about her exes, and Lauren held up a finger.
“I meant real dogs.” She hesitated. Then, before she could talk herself out of it: “How would you feel about me getting one?”
Paige squirmed.
Lauren couldn’t work out why. Paige loved dogs, and the bungalow was still covered in Reggie’s fur no matter how often Lauren hoovered. What damage could a second dog do?
“A dog,” Paige said carefully. “Any dog? Or a specific dog?”
Lauren looked at Reggie. Reggie looked back like a dog who knew the answer and was too polite to say.
“Berkeley,” she said.
“Right.”
“Just fostering. Not for ever. Just until things settle down for Carly’s family.” The words came faster, lined up like she’d rehearsed them, which she had, in the car, twice. “Her dad can’t look after him anymore. Berkeley’s been shunted between Carly’s sister and Carly’s car for weeks, and he’s not settled anywhere. Her sister’s feeding him rubbish. Carly’s at the gym all hours. And you should have seen him on Sunday. He walked in, he checked every room, and then he just lay down on the rug like he’d been looking for it. I’ve got the garden. I’ve got the space. I’m five minutes from the gym, so I can pop home at lunch. I know how to look after a big dog. I looked after this one.” She ruffled Reggie’s ears. “Didn’t I?”
