I hit another pothole on the horrible highway. Between my tears, Virginia Beach potholes, and the sadness swelling in my chest, I’m not sure I’ll make it home in one piece. My phone chimes with text messages from Kathy and Gretchen—both of them wanting something from me. I can’t give any of them anything in my current state, so I don’t plan on responding until I can sleep off my heartbreak hangover. Until I can work out an equation to compute just how much one person can miss another without dying.
I figure Kathy’s dealt with her fair share of what I’m feeling, but turning to her for any kind of sound advice won’t be my best bet. My Dad, God rest his soul, would know exactly what to say to me right now. He died in a car accident that was both utterly tragic and ironic. It killed him on impact, which I always looked at as a blessing. No suffering. He was driving one second and dead the next. If you have to go early, that’s the way. A drunk driver hit him. I don’t think Kathy’s been sober a day since it happened. That’s the ironic part.
Dad would have told me a story about a strong heroine who conquered the world, and then spouted off several relevant quotes about love and perseverance. Sometimes I think if I had him around when Nash and I broke up, I wouldn’t have landed in a shrink chair laden with self-hatred. That’s all psych’s really are anyway—someone who listens and gives sound advice without judging.
I miss my Dad. I’ll always miss him. I haven’t died from missing him yet, so maybe missing Maverick will be easier. A college professor once told me that missing someone meant that you are fortunate to love someone in the first place. If you don’t miss them, you don’t love them. Some don’t get that chance. Somehow, fortunate isn’t any of the things I’m feeling.
My phone rings through the speakers of my car, scaring the ever-loving shit out of me. I slam the answer button to shut off the noise as quickly as possible.
Gretchen’s screeching voice blares out of the speakers, “Where the hell are you? I thought you’d be home by now. Was it horrible?”
I sigh. I won’t hit the green button next time. “Of course it was horrible!” I yell. Gretchen speaks to someone else, her mouth away from her phone. “Who are you talking to?” I ask.
“No one! I have to meet Benji…will you be home soon?” More whispered words and then I hear her say, “Shhhh!”
“I’m pulling on to our street now. Why do I have to be home before you leave? I don’t really want company right now. Or today. Probably not for a week or so,” I admit because, honestly, I don’t want Gretchen to organize anything in my sad, sorry honor. It’s totally something she’d do. Then I’d have to kill her in her sleep.
“Hurry up!” Gretchen snaps. She hangs up the phone. I sigh, leaning my head back on the headrest. As soon as I park, I flip down the mirror and wipe beneath my eyes in vain. I’m sure they’ll be black and smudged for a few days—especially if the freaking radio doesn’t stop scoring for the other team. I need to turn onPandoraon the get-freaking-happy station. Six months will go by in a snap if I can find things to entertain me in my spare time.
I obviously have plans to work like demon. Luckily tax season is coming up and I’ll be working crazy hours anyways. Distraction is key. Morganna told me so. I have a brief urge to call her, then decide against it. She feels like I do. She doesn’t want to talk.
I glance down to grab my phone and see a white envelope sticking out of the side of the passenger seat. My name is printed on the front in tiny capital letters. Maverick’s handwriting. Definitely not reading this until my cry fest later.
I slam my car door and hit the lock button on my key fob. My feet feel like they weigh a thousand pounds each as I trudge up the stairs and push open my front door.
Gretchen squeals and a plaintive little bark echoes the living room. “Finally!” She says rushing toward me with a tiny, and I do mean tiny, tan hairball under one arm.
My eyes are as big as marbles when she thrusts the cutest thing in the world into my arms. “What the hell is this? I mean I know it’s a Pomeranian, but why is it in our condo?” I ask. The dog wriggles in my arms and licks the salty tears off my face. Puppy breath. I melt. The dog is wearing a tiny black t-shirt.
“Maverick didn’t want you to be lonely,” Gretchen explains, looking at the dog with as much fondness as a mother would her newborn baby. “He got him from the shelter you always go to. Someone dumped a litter of Poms a few weeks ago. I’ve been hiding him at Benji’s.” Gretchen smiles wide. “I would never let you be lonely, but this way you at least have a guy sleeping in your bed every night.” She scratches the top of his head, cooing in a high voice. “What are you going to name him? I’ve been calling him Bear because he looks like a fucking teddy bear, but I’m sure you’ll be more creative,” she says. I look down, still in shock at the warm little fuzzy mess, and see that the doggy t-shirt has the wordsTOP GUNprinted on the back of it. I laugh a little and shake my head. “The shirt was at Mav’s request. Obviously,” Gretch explains.
“Goose,” I say. “I’ll name him Goose.” I cuddle him up to my face and, amazingly, this little creature makes me feel better. Looking at him I won’t be able to forget what I mean to Maverick. “Thank you, Gretch.” I hug her, the puppy squirming between us. She pulls me in a little tighter.
“It will be okay. You’ll see. I’ve never seen a man more in love or care about a woman more than he does for you. Six months really isn’t that long to wait for the rest of your life.”
“I hate it when you’re right,” I whisper into her hair. She squeezes my ass in both of her hands.
“I’m always right, bitch. Go snuggle with that puppy. He’s like a mood enhancing drug. I swear it. He went outside to pee just before you got here, but that doesn’t mean much because I think his brain is the size of a pea.”
I walk to my room and set little Goose on my huge bed and just gawk at him. He’s staring right back at me. The responsibility of owning a dog scares me. I pull the letter from Maverick out of my purse and trace my fingers over my name.
Win,
Stop reading unless you’ve seen Gretchen first…
You havehimnow? Okay, good. Surprise!
Courage is a strange thing. The more you use it, the more it consumes you. You didn’t want to pull the trigger on a puppy, so I did it for you. Fear not, you will be the greatest dog mom ever. How am I so sure? Because you’re good at everything (and I do mean everything). Usually things that involve your mouth and hands…but everything else too. You’re so good that I popped wood just writing/thinking about the last sentence. See? So good. I wanted to get you a larger mutt, something that would latch on and then kill an intruder, but Gretchen stepped in and said something smaller and “cute” would be preferable for condo life. Look at that furry thing. He’s adorable. That isn’t a word I’ve ever used.
I pause reading and look at Goose. He huffs and stretches his back legs out like a frog. Freaking adorable as sin. Mav’s right.
He’ll keep you company and kiss you senseless until I come home and kiss you senseless in a better way. I miss you already.
Mav
Chapter Twenty-One
Maverick
