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  “Like?”

  “Costume parties. Tapas. Karaoke.”

  “Tapas is tricky,” she said. “I hate people judging my choices.”

  “Exactly. It’s completely legitimate if I want to eat nothing but jamon croquettes and churros.”

  “Or deep-fried olives and custard flan,” she agreed.

  “I feel the need to add an addendum to my karaoke comment—I’m happy to go to karaoke with friends, but it’s good to know in advance if they think they can sing.”

  “God, yes.” She cocked her head, her eyes slightly narrowed in thought. “The costume party situation—is it because you’re afraid you’ll turn up dressed like The Cat in the Hat and everyone else will be wearing smart casual because you misunderstood the invitation somehow?”

  “How did you know?”

  “It’s a common fear, which I share, because it happened to me once.”

  He laughed. “It didn’t happen if there aren’t pictures.”

  “Oh, there are pictures. But I will not be sharing them with you today.”

  It was her turn again. She took another nervous sip of her water and he knew something big was coming.

  “My husband cheated on me for a year before I found out and I’m still pretty messed up over it.”

  She held his gaze for the entire speech and he could see how much she’d been hurt by her ex’s betrayal. He felt a thud of anger in his belly on her behalf.

  Such honesty demanded honesty in return.

  “My dog Walter died two months ago, and I can’t seem to get over it.”

  “What sort of dog was he?” she asked.

  “A Miniature Schnauzer. Were you happy before you found out about the affair?”

  She looked at the table for a beat as though gathering her thoughts. “Happy enough. I sensed he wasn’t fully there, but I thought he was just distracted by work stuff. I thought we’d come good.”

  “You know he self-selected to be unworthy of you, right?” he said.

  She smiled slightly. “I try to tell myself that when I’m staring at the ceiling, grinding my teeth at two AM.”

  “You don’t believe it?”

  She shrugged. “Here’s the thing—he slept next to me every night, give or take, for ten years. He watched me brush my teeth, go to the toilet, cry, laugh, throw up, have orgasms, drool while napping on the couch, throw temper tantrums… Basically, he knew me better than anyone in the world. And he actively chose not to be with me.”

  There was a quaver in her voice. He had to fight the need to reach out to take her hand.

  “I understand what you’re saying,” he said. “I guess you just have to ask yourself, ‘Do I value his opinion?’”

  “That’s an interesting way of looking at it.”

  He could tell she was just being polite, but he’d meant what he said.

  “All those things you just listed, they’re about trust. Intimacy,” he said. “You trusted him with your dignity, your safety, your love. And he lied to you for, what did you say? A year?”

  She nodded.

  “That makes him a major dick,” Daniel pointed out. “He’s also a huge liar. And a coward, because he wasn’t up front about how he was feeling. Personally, I wouldn’t give a rat’s testicle for that guy’s opinion.”

  She blinked. Then she frowned. “Huh. You make several good points, I have to admit.”

  Their food arrived and for a moment they were both silent as they navigated the placement of napkins to avoid disastrous food spillage.

  “Do you have a picture of Walter?” she asked as she picked up her hotdog.

  He’d been about to do the same but instead he pulled out his phone. There was a whole album of Walter, and he simply opened it and passed his phone over.

  “It’s safe for you to swipe in any direction, I promise,” he assured her.

  He tackled his hotdog, trying not to watch too closely as she worked her way through his favorite pictures. When she smiled, he knew she was looking at the one where Walter had woken with a start and Daniel had managed to capture his pillow-face, the fur on one side of his muzzle flattened from contact with the couch. And when her eyes softened he knew she was looking at the one where he was curled in his bed with his favorite soft toy of the moment clamped in his mouth.

  “Is he sleep-chewing in this one?” she asked.

  “It’s part of his courtship ritual with any new toy. First, the sleep-chewing phase, then, when the gloss has worn off, the disemboweling phase, where I get to clean up polyester stuffing for months. Then, finally, the abandonment phase where it gets left in the yard to turn into a foul sodden thing when it rains.”

  It wasn’t until he’d finished talking that he registered he was talking in present tense. She didn’t correct him or draw attention to it, though. Instead, she took a big bite of her hotdog, her gaze drifting to the river where a racing scull glided across the water.

  “I have a theory about dogs,” she said after a moment or two of surprisingly companionable silence. “Want to hear it?”

  “Hit me.”

  “Because we can’t communicate verbally, humans and dogs become intense observers of each other. They know when we are going to go for a walk before we do, and we know when they need to go outside or if they’re hungry. They’re much better at it than we are, and it’s frustrating sometimes because when they’re sick, they can’t say ‘it hurts here,’ but there’s something incredibly pure about the wordlessness of the relationship that makes it really special and intense. It’s all about actions, not words.”

  “You have a dog,” he said. There was no maybe about it.

  “I had one. She died five years ago. I still miss her.”

  She showed him a picture of a tall black and tan dog with recognizable Rottweiler heritage. “She used to do this thing where she would come up and lean against my leg, just to let me know she was there and wanted to be close. Nearly knocked me over every time.”

  “I have trouble talking about how much Walter means to me.” He shook his head. There he was, present tensing again. “Meant to me.”

  “One thing I did when Bambi died and the grief got really bad was to remind myself that I had known her almost from the moment she was born till the day she died and that she’d had a happy life. She’d been so loved and cherished, and I’d been able to give that to her. I don’t know if that helps at all, but it used to comfort me.”

  Daniel frowned at the table, conscious of the tight knot of emotion in his throat. After a beat he nodded.

  “Yeah, that helps.”

  She passed his phone back. “Walter looks like a character.”

  “He was a complete rascal.”

  He was almost done with his hotdog and he made a conscious effort to slow down. The sooner they finished eating, the sooner this lunch would be over, and he wasn’t ready for that to happen yet.

  “This sun is really good,” she said.

  “Not as good as this hotdog,” he said.

  “This hot dog is awesome,” she agreed. “The magic of sodium and triglycerides. Why don’t healthy foods ever taste this good?”

  “It’s one of the perversities of life. Also, I’m guessing no one has ever poured hundreds of thousands of dollars into making Brussels sprouts irresistible. Could be wrong about that, but I don’t think I am.”

  “Interesting. Tell me more about the Brussels sprouts, Daniel. What did they do to hurt you?”

  He grinned, delighted by the places her mind went. Delighted by her.

  “Why did you make your certificate? The first one, in the perfect frame with the perfect font,” he asked suddenly.

  “When I see a miscarriage of justice, I have to act,” she said.

  “So you’re a superhero. Like Batman.”

  “Be the change you want to see in the world. That’s the way that saying goes, right?”

  “I believe so.”

  “Also, I didn’t realize it at the time, but I needed a distraction from w
hat was going on in my head. So thanks for that. You made me laugh for the first time in ages.” She smiled self-consciously, then lifted her bottle of water and clinked it against his. “I’m pretty sure my friends think I’m a bit nuts now, though.”

  “Mine are ready to certify me. But that’s cool. It was worth it.”

  “Out of pure, rude curiosity, how much did you shell out for the rush job on those T-shirts and loyalty cards?” she asked.

  “Two hundred and thirty-five dollars. What about that tattoo, what did that set you back?”

  “Nearly three hundred.”

  “I admire your commitment.”

  “Thank you. I admire your graciousness in defeat.” She raised her eyebrows provocatively, clearly daring him to rise to the bait.

  “I’m not going to dance to your tune that easily, madam,” he said.

  They both laughed, but the moment was ruined when a passing police cruiser suddenly flicked its lights and sirens on. Daniel saw Cassidy glance at the time on her phone. Which made him want to check the time, and sure enough, his lunch hour was done.

  “I need to get back to work,” she said, and he told himself he wasn’t imagining the regret in her voice.

  “Yep, me, too,” he said.

  He collected the rubbish from their meal and dumped it in the nearby bin, all the time wondering how she’d respond if he suggested they do this again. She’d just told him she was fresh off a marriage break-up. It stood to reason she probably wasn’t looking for anything right now. But maybe they could be friends.

  Like she’s not going to see through that flimsy ruse, Dumbo.

  “Thanks for tackling the dishes,” she said. “My most hated chore.”

  “Mine’s mowing the lawn,” he said. “Speaking of.”

  He lifted a shoulder, inviting her to use him for balance again. She gripped his shoulder, and they made their way up the grassy embankment to the street.

  They were both silent as they walked toward the café.

  “I go this way,” she said, pointing East.

  He pointed West. “Me this way.”

  “Well. It was good meeting you, Daniel. Thanks for the tattoo. I’ll treasure it always.”

  He barked out a laugh. She kept surprising him, sneaking up on him with her whimsy and wit.

  “Thanks for the public drubbing. I’ll take the shame to my grave.”

  “The perfect place for shame, I’ve always thought,” she said.

  Standing this close, he could see the gold flecks in her deep brown irises. And out it came, of its own volition: “You have lovely eyes.”

  She blinked a couple of times. “I really like your beard.”

  He didn’t know what to say to that, so he offered her his hand and she shook it. He hovered a moment, feeling as though he was forgetting something important. When it didn’t come to him, he just shrugged, nodded goodbye, and walked away.

  He was halfway back to the office when he realized what he’d forgotten—he hadn’t asked for her phone number.

  What a muppet.

  He berated himself all the way up in the elevator. Now he was either going to have to bribe Ari or loiter with intent until Cassidy visited Cuppa Diem for her next caffeine hit. Admittedly, it seemed unlikely that would take too long, given their joint addiction issues, but still.

  He ran into Pete the moment he reached his floor. “I’m such an idiot. You have my permission to throw rotten fruit at me for the rest of the day.”

  Pete pretended to be delighted. “And it’s not even my birthday.”

  Daniel stalked up the hallway to his office, Pete hard on his heels.

  “Can I ask why I’m wasting perfectly good fruit on you?”

  “I specified rotten fruit, Pete. Keep up.” Daniel dropped into the chair behind his desk. “I just had lunch with Cassidy, and I forgot to get her number.”

  “Wha-ha? Say that again.”

  “You heard me. We went down to the river and had hotdogs.” He shifted his stapler from the left side of his desk to the right. “She’s really nice.”

  “Is she?”

  Daniel could still see her in his mind’s eye. The sun picking out the red highlights in her brown hair. The way her smile lit up her face.

  “She’s got this cute little nose,” he found himself saying, even though he knew Pete was going to give him hell for it. “And when she laughs, her ears wiggle. Just a little bit, not in a freakish way. And she has amazing eyes.”

  “Does she?”

  Daniel registered the broad, shit-eating grin on his friend’s face for the first time. “What’s so funny?”

  “Remember how I wanted to set you up with a friend of Libby’s from her work? Remember how I said she had lovely eyes, and I thought you two would be a good fit?”

  Daniel shot to his feet. “Shut the fucking front door.”

  “Would I lie to you? Libby and Cassidy are good mates.”

  “So all this time…?” Daniel stared at his friend intently, demanding the truth.

  “Yep. All this time.”

  Daniel remembered something. “When I walked in on you and Lib in the kitchen at my place…?”

  “We were totally talking about you and Cassidy.”

  Daniel couldn’t work out how he felt. A little foolish. A little pissed off. A lot surprised.

  “Why didn’t you say something?”

  “Because you two were having too much fun.”

  Daniel started to argue the point, then realized Pete was right. As much as it pissed him off that Pete had withheld vital intelligence, Daniel wouldn’t have given up his battle of wills with Cassidy for the world.

  “So, let’s try this again. Want me to set you up on date with Cassidy?” Pete asked.

  “What? No. That would be weird. Wouldn’t it?”

  “My friend, you left weird behind a long time ago.”

  6

  “Why didn’t I ask for his number? I just let him walk away. Now I’m going to have to stalk him so I can see him again,” Cassidy whined from the comfort of the guest chair in her friend’s office.

  “I’m still trying to get my head around the fact that you and Daniel had lunch,” Libby said.

  “Maybe I can work out where his office is. Maybe Ari will tell me.” Cassidy chewed her thumbnail and wondered what it would take to convince Ari to break barista-client privilege.

  “So you liked him, huh?” Libby asked.

  “He’s funny. I already knew that, but he’s really funny. Laugh out loud funny. And hot. That goofy selfie he took did not do him justice. He has this cute beard, and a really nice mouth, and green eyes—”

  Libby jabbed a finger vehemently toward Cassidy, her eyes blazing with triumph. “I KNEW IT. I told Pete that you guys would be perfect for each other, and he resisted and resisted. But I was RIGHT, and he was WRONG.”

  “I have no idea what’s going on right now,” Cassidy said.

  “Remember that guy I wanted to set you up with, Pete’s friend that you wanted to pass around like a platter of sushi? The one with the nice beard?”

  “Are you…are you trying to tell me that Daniel is the guy you were going to set me up with?” The idea formed slowly in Cassidy’s mind like a developing Polaroid.

  “That’s exactly what I’m trying to tell you.”

  Cassidy stared at her friend. “So all this time, you knew I was locked in battle with Pete’s friend?”

  “I wanted to tell you straight away, but Pete thought we should just step back and let it play out.”

  “Libby, I have a tattoo because I was determined to one-up this guy,” Cassidy said.

  She couldn’t believe her friend had held out on her like this.

  “It’s going to make the cutest story to tell your grandkids,” Libby said smugly.

  Cassidy made a rude noise. Libby was entirely too romantic for her own good. Also, she wasn’t finished being pissed about this yet.

  “You should have told me,” Cassidy insisted. />
  “And ruined the best time you’ve had in months? What kind of an asshole would that make me?”

  “The kind who saves someone from getting a tattoo when they didn’t need to.”

  “Babe, the tattoo was your idea, not mine. You were the one thirsting for blood and triumph.”

  Cassidy harrumphed grumpily, unable to counter Libby’s argument.

  Libby’s phone quacked like a duck to announce the arrival of a text and she automatically picked it up to check.

  “What?” Cassidy asked when Libby started laughing.

  “Pete just texted to set up a date for you and Daniel. Are you up for it?” Libby asked.

  “You mean like a blind date?”

  “That’s right. You and Daniel, dinner at a nice restaurant. What do you think?”

  “I think we’re a little past blind dates.”

  “What about that new French place downtown? The lighting is super romantic there,” Libby said, already texting her husband.

  “You’re not listening to me.”

  “I’m listening to you. Daniel is hot. He made you laugh out loud. You like his beard. If you don’t like the French place, there’s the Italian place in the basement. They have those cute booths.”

  Cassidy tried to snatch the phone from her friend’s hand but Libby was too fast for her.

  “Give it to me,” Cassidy demanded.

  “You know you want this.”

  “Of course I want it. He’s sweet and lovely and the things we said to each other at lunch blew my mind. But I am not ready for a guy like him yet, Lib. I am so not ready.” Cassidy choked up on the final words, emotion getting the better of her.

  Libby set down her phone and rounded her desk to take Cassidy’s hands in hers. “My love, I adore you. It has killed me to see how sad you have been ever since that fuck puppet hurt you. You are ready for this. You deserve to be happy. It’s going to be okay.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “You’re right, I don’t know that. But we both know you’re not going to walk away from a date with Daniel. So tell me if you’d prefer Italian or French. And what night suits you?”

  It took no less than ten texts back and forth to set up a date with Daniel on Saturday night, a whole two days away. Cassidy left Libby’s office feeling both excited and terrified and proceeded to waste a large portion of the next hour looking for dresses online. Then it occurred to her that she probably wouldn’t be able to get anything delivered before Saturday, which meant she needed to leave work early (for her) to go buy one in person. She powered through her in-tray and managed to squeak out the door with a whole hour of late-night shopping to exploit.