6. Emily
CHAPTER 6
EMILY
T he key turns in the lock with a soft click, and I push the door open to the familiar scent of cinnamon candles and our lavender laundry detergent. The hum of the city below our fifth-floor window fades as I step inside, letting the quiet sanctuary of our little apartment envelop me. Jenn sits cross-legged on the couch, her laptop balanced on her knees and a bowl of half-eaten pasta on the coffee table.
“Hey,” she greets me without looking up, her fingers flying over the keys.
She’s got another editing deadline to get through, and I don’t mind. Even though we’re the closest of friends and living together means we get to have extra fun, I’m in a strange mood and could use a little time to myself.
As I walk by, though, headed to the kitchen and the frozen dinners in the freezer, she closes her laptop. “What’s new?”
“Well…” I pivot to face her. “I do have a new client.”
“That’s great!”
“Yeah… He’s kind of a big deal. Isaac Lennox. From Lennox Realty?”
Her eyes grow to the size of saucers. “No way.”
I nod, a small smile tugging at my lips. “Yeah. Apparently my last client was his assistant’s mom. I had no idea.”
“Emily, that’s amazing!” She sets her laptop aside and stands, rushing over to wrap me in an impromptu hug. “You’ve worked so hard for this.”
I hug her back, the warmth from her enthusiasm seeping into me. Still, I’m full of nerves, the kind that make me feel like I might vomit at any moment. Pulling away, I lean against the kitchen counter, trying to mirror her excitement. “Yeah, it is pretty cool.”
“More than cool. You’re going to be amazing.” I know she believes in me, but her voice seems to come from far away as I trace the wood grain of the cabinet with my finger.
“Thanks. I hope so.”
Jenn’s brow furrows, and she studies me, concern etching her features. “You okay? You seem… off.”
I force a laugh, too sharp, too quick. “Just tired, I guess. It’s been a long day.”
“Go get some rest, then,” she urges, gesturing towards my bedroom with a tilt of her head.
“I will soon. I gotta eat something first.”
She gets back to work as I toss a frozen dinner in the microwave and then do some light kitchen cleaning while I wait for it to finish. After scarfing down the food, I take a quick shower and step into my bathrobe.
My bedroom is dim, the only light a soft glow from the streetlights outside. Even here in my private sanctuary, I can’t shake the heaviness that has settled over me, a blanket woven of anticipation and dread.
This is what I asked for, isn’t it? To prove myself — to take on clients who could make or break my career with a single review?
That’s it, though. The reason behind my dread. If Isaac doesn’t like what I do with Baxter, if I fall short in any way, he could destroy my reputation. He has that sort of power.
And if the opposite happens, if he’s blown away by my skills, then I could be catapulted to another level. I could become a trainer to celebrities and rich people galore. Their names could help me grow my name, and consequently the more good I could do.
So here I am, teetering on the edge of a massive shakeup. It’s exactly what I wanted; I just didn’t expect it to be so terrifying.
Climbing into bed, I pull the covers up to my chin and exhale slowly, trying to steady the flutter in my chest. I play today’s meetup over and over, clocking what I suspect are Baxter’s motivations. He has triggers, too, I’m sure. I just need to find out what they are.
My mind races through potential scenarios, each one ending with a mistake I can’t afford to make. A man like Isaac has little patience — he showed that with his reaction to his dog running off — so there will be a small window for me to make an impression.
Because the meetup today wasn’t enough, even though Isaac was pleased. Now comes the hard work. I need to keep that momentum going.
I close my eyes, trying to catch my shuteye, but it doesn’t come easily. Instead I find myself reaching for my laptop, charging on the floor next to my bed.
Opening it up, I nestle against the pillows, the keyboard warm under my fingertips as I type in Isaac Lennox’s name, driven by an odd compulsion to know more about him.
As pages of search results populate with a click, I learn that his wealth is even more staggering than I imagined. Figures sprawl across the articles like the most audacious of skyscrapers, each zero piling upon the last until they reach the stratosphere — tens of billions. A breath I didn’t realize I was holding escapes me, and it feels like I’m trying to comprehend the vastness of the universe from my tiny, earthbound vantage point.
Clicking through the links, I read a little bit about his father’s death, but there isn’t much out yet. Just that it was a heart attack, very sudden. Then again, what else is there to say about something like that?
Here one moment… gone the next.
I chew on my lip, hating the reminder that life is so fragile and doesn’t really belong to any of us. Rather, we’re borrowing it, and the universe can take it back anytime it pleases.
Poor Isaac. He’s carrying this grief, alone in its sharp newness, and never once today did he let it slip through the facade he presented to the world — or to me.
I wonder how someone bears such a loss so silently, so stoically. Why hadn’t he mentioned it? Does the pain carve out hollows too vast for words?
But the question dissipates as quickly as it forms; it’s none of my business. People get to grieve in their own ways, on their own time. I am here to train a dog, not excavate the hidden sorrows of a man who is practically a stranger.
And yet, as I scroll past condolences and statements, it becomes clear that Isaac’s world is one I can’t fully understand, distant and fuzzy. The realization casts a shadow over the attraction I’ve been harboring.
Especially when I discover another piece of him tucked away in an interview, a throwaway comment about pets being a nuisance, a liability for those with ambitions. My heart sinks. Isaac is not a dog person. Worse, the disdain in his voice when he speaks of them seems to suggest he actually despises them. How did I not see this before?
And if he doesn’t like animals, why would he take Baxter? Why not give him to a human who is happy to have him?
The truth chills the small flame of allure that flickered to life upon our meeting — how could it not? To love dogs is to understand a part of my own soul. Anyone who doesn’t even like them… well, I don’t understand those sorts of people one bit.
With a sigh, I close the laptop and put it away. There’s a job to do, training sessions to plan — and personal feelings have no place in the equation.
It’s probably for the best anyway, that I found this out about him now. It nips any of my burgeoning fantasies in the bud, knocks me back down to reality. Isaac and I are from different worlds; we have different mindsets, different values. We could never be an item or anything close to it.
I’m doing this for the dogs. The creatures who will never turn on me, never let me down. Unlike humans, they’re dependable. Trustworthy. Men, you never know when they’ll bite, when they’ll turn tail and run only for you to never see them again.
Sure, devoting my life to animals and not getting close to any humans other than my roommate is lonely sometimes, but it’s safe. Predictable.
In this scary world, that amounts to something.