“That makes sense. I’m sure you’ll be a great mom when the time comes.”
We both smile and manage to fill the next few minutes with small talk until Ryan gets up from the table and cleans his plate.
“So, I have some groomsman business I need to do today. We’re picking up our suits, grabbing some food, and then Jason has it in his head that we should all buy matching shoes.”
“Crocs or sneakers?”
“Neither, unfortunately. Would you be able to watch Duke for a few hours? If it’s too much, I can come back in between errands to walk him and feed him.”
“No, it’s okay. I can manage.”
“Are you sure?”
“Fully sure.”
“That would be amazing.” He walks over to his bag beside the couch and pulls out a piece of paper. “I leave this behind for anyone watching Duke. It’s his walk schedule, his food schedule and the exact amounts for all his food. Also, if you want to go out without him at all, there’s a suggested playlist that always gets him to fall asleep. I’ll text you a link so you can download it. If you leave while he’s sleeping, everything’s fine. If you leave while he’s awake, he’ll bark for hours and pee on every available surface.”
“Play the playlist, don’t leave when he’s awake, got it.”
Ryan walks back to the table, handing me the paper, and I quickly read it over. “There’s a surprising amount of Celine Dion on here.”
“He has a thing for powerful Canadian songbirds. There’s a lid for every pot.”
“It appears so.”
“Well, I should head out. Jason said the lady at the suit place is trying to overcharge us, so I need to help smooth things over.”
“And how do you plan to do that?” I ask, lowering the list to the table.
“I’m going to dazzle her with my wit and masculine good looks, obviously.”
I sneer as I push my fork forward with the tip of my index finger. “Do you have a Plan B?”
He grabs his wallet and cell phone from the couch and slides them into his back pockets as he crosses the room to the entryway. “Why would I need a Plan B?”
“No reason,” I say nonchalantly.
Ryan pauses. He leans back against the door with his arms set across his chest. “Do you doubt my wit and masculine good looks, Sullivan?”
I shrug as I continue to adjust my cutlery.
“Because I can recall quite a few times when you very much enjoyed my manly charms.”
“I think you saying the words manly charms probably means you don’t have any.”
“I’m offended. Here I thought I was so smooth back in my heyday.”
“Unfortunately not. Even in my favorite memories of you, you were only partly charming.”
A playful grin crosses his face. “That’s fair. In my favorite memories of you, you were only partly clothed, so I guess we’re even.”
My insides stir in a toasty way as a few of those memories come to mind. “Okay, move it along, freak. Let’s quit while we’re ahead.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He’s reaching for the door when he suddenly turns and picks up a small paper bag that I didn’t notice on the entryway table/bike rack. “I almost forgot,” he says, walking back over and handing it to me, “I got this for you when I took Duke for a walk this morning. I remembered they were your favorite.”
I take the bag, noticing the logo of a bakery a few blocks away printed on the front. I reach inside and pull out a delectable cinnamon scone that’s somehow still warm. I can’t stop the smile that spreads across my face. When we were at school, Ryan would surprise me with cinnamon scones at least once a week after he found out how much I loved them. The act itself was considerate, but what I loved most about them was that they meant he was thinking of me when I wasn’t there.
The memories leave me feeling slightly off kilter as I place the scone onto the table. “Thank you,” I say, trying to sound less affected than I am. “They’re still my favorite.”
“I’m glad,” he replies.
“By the way, I can’t believe they let you in with Duke. I’ve been there a bunch of times and they never allow pets inside.”
“Come on, Sullivan. There’s not a person alive who can resist that face.”
I follow his gaze and look over at Duke. He’s sitting on the floor a few feet away, vigorously scratching behind his ear as he stumbles over a bit onto his side. Ryan’s right. Duke is too adorable to be real.
“All right,” he then says, “I’ll leave you to enjoy that. Shoot me a text if you have any questions.”
“Will do.”
“I’ll see you tonight. Good luck.” Ryan gives me a goodbye salute as he exits, and Duke follows his path to sit by the door, already waiting for him to come back.
“Duke,” I groan as I drop my head down on the table. “What the hell am I doing?”
An hour later, Duke and I arrive at Maggie’s studio apartment in the Theater District. Teeming with rehearsal spaces and theatrical agencies, this is the neighborhood where Maggie can potentially bump into musical cast members in their down time. She claims she lives in the area for the competitive rent, but I think the selfie she took last week with half of the ensemble of Hamilton in a local tapas restaurant speaks for itself.
“Whoa, whoa. What is this?” Maggie’s eyes bulge as Duke charges easily into the space.
“This is Ryan’s dog.”
“Come again?”
“His name is Duke and he and Ryan are staying with me for the next few days.”
“We don’t talk for one day and this is what happens? Wait, did you ride over
