Friends?
I’m not sure why, but the word irks me to no end. Maybe because Dr. Smooch is conveniently glossing over the fact that, not two days ago, he was eating my face in the elevator. Are we really going to pretend that kiss never happened?
“Why apologize now?” I ask.
“Tomorrow is an important day. I want you to trust me before I bring Tegan to meet her father.”
If I were a braver woman, I’d ask him if that’s the only reason for the ceasefire. But I’m not, so I go along with the let’s-pretend-our-tongues-were-never-in-each-other’s-mouths flow.
I finish my second, unplanned breakfast and lick my fingers, not missing the way Lucas’ eyes follow my every movement. “And was the donut a bribe?”
He smiles. “Did it work?”
I clean my hands with a paper napkin and lean my elbows on the desk. “All right, Doctor.” I extend my hand, saying, “Friends?”
“Friends.”
We shake on it, his eyes bluer than ever.
The contact and the eye lock are too much, so I break both by grabbing some random documents from the desk and tapping them on the wooden surface as if I needed to tidy the stack. “If there’s nothing else…? I have a busy morning.”
Lucas scratches the back of his head. “Actually, I need to ask you a favor for tomorrow.”
The man is driving my daughter to Boston; I can hardly refuse. “Sure, what is it?”
“My dog sitter isn’t available tomorrow—she doesn’t work weekends—and Max wouldn’t enjoy the four-hour drive back and forth. Could you keep him for the day?” And before I can answer, he adds, “He’s a good dog, I promise, and you’d only need to walk him twice and feed him.”
“Yeah, no problem. Is Max a big dog?”
“No, a Jack Russell, hardly a heavyweight.”
“And is he okay with cats?”
Lucas grimaces. “Eeeh, I’m not sure. But if you can’t keep him, I can always ask Garrett.”
“No,” I say. “It’s fine. I’ll be happy to take Max.”
“Great.”
We both stand up, and I walk him to the door.
Lucas leans against the frame in an unfairly sexy pose, saying, “See you tomorrow.”
I’m drawn in by some magnetic force and lean forward. But before I do something stupid, like press against him and kiss those sinfully full lips, I back off, coughing out, “Tomorrow.”
Then I shut the door in his face.
Out of sight, out of mind.
***
The next morning, the doorbell rings at eight on the dot. Tegan has been up since the crack of dawn and promptly rushes to the front door to answer. She’s greeted by a bout of barking, and I hear cooing sounds as she lavishes attention on Lucas’ dog. They seem to get along.
Priscilla is not on the same page; she scurries down the hall and regards me accusingly.
“Don’t worry, Prissy, it’s only for today.”
The cat glares at me, still indignant, and goes to hide in Tegan’s room.
As I shuffle down the hall, I’m not nearly as presentable as I would’ve liked to be, but I overslept. So, I have no other choice than to go meet Lucas wearing an oversized sweater, leggings, and my hair down in a rat’s nest mess. I check my reflection in the hall mirror and try to pull my hair up in a messy bun. But that looks even worse, so I let it back down, quickly combing my fingers through the tangled locks.
Oh, whatever. I turn the corner and briefly take in my daughter crouched on the floor patting a tiny dog, before I’m shocked by the sight of Lucas wearing dark-blue jeans and a gray V-neck. His eyes widen in return upon spotting me, and it kills me I’ve no idea what he’s thinking.
“Wow,” I say, “you do own casual clothes. I thought you were Neil Patrick Harris’ secret twin and went to bed in pajama suits.”
Lucas smiles, although I’m not sure he caught the How I Met Your Mother reference. “It’s good to see you out of your lawyer uniform, too.”
Excited by a new arrival, Max escapes Tegan’s arms and rushes at my feet, jumping and barking.
I crouch to the floor. “And who’s this little guy?” I scratch the dog behind the ears, and he tries to lick my face.
Lucas squats next to us. “Glad to see you two get along.”
I swear, his eyes haven’t always been this blue, nor his lips so full and inviting… I bite my lower lip and catch him watching me. The moment is interrupted when Tegan steps in, saying, “Are we good to go?”
We jump up, and Lucas hands me a small bag, saying, “Max’s leash and food are inside. If he gives you any trouble, let me know.”
“I’m sure he won’t.”
“All right,” Lucas says. “We’d better go.”
Sober now, I say, “Text me constant updates.”
He nods.
I turn to Tegan, and my heart breaks a little. What will happen today?
I pull my daughter into a hug. “I love you, baby.”
For once, she doesn’t pull away with an indignant, “Mom, I’m not a child anymore!”
Tegan hugs me back just as tightly, saying, “I love you, too.”
Holding Max in my arms so as not to let him run down the street, I watch them cross over to where Lucas has parked his black SUV. They get into the car and, in a heartbeat, they’re gone.
To kill time, I spend the morning compulsively cleaning the house while staring at my watch every five seconds. A single text breaks the routine:
In Hartford, stopping for gas and a bathroom break
It’s not much, but at least Lucas is keeping me posted as promised.
Max has been following me around the house, sniffling
