12. Emily
CHAPTER 12
EMILY
T he chime of the coffee-shop door signals the start of another monotonous afternoon shift. I clock in and get to work on stocking and cleaning; it’s always best to not let it wait until the hour before closing.
I’ve done all this a hundred times before, and my movements are mechanical, thoughts of Isaac’s unexpected apology lingering. He seemed sincere enough, his eyes searching for forgiveness I’m not sure I have the right to withhold. But Baxter… poor, misunderstood Baxter. Can Isaac truly commit to what that dog needs?
This isn’t the first time Isaac has promised he would do better, and I shouldn’t care. After all, I’m getting paid very well to show up, and at least I can help Baxter a tiny bit, even if his human isn’t on board.
So why does Isaac’s behavior get to me so? Why does it feel like I’m holding my breath, lingering on his promises, praying that he’ll follow through? Praying that he might even fall in love with Baxter and end up being a dog person after all?
That’s the missing piece, isn’t it? The one thing that stops him from being a perfect man.
“Emily!” My coworker, Dante, snaps me from my reverie with a wave of his hand. “Your phone’s buzzing like crazy.”
“Oh. It is?” I blink at the counter, where I didn’t even realize I’d put my phone. Usually, I stashed it in my purse in the office desk.
I reach for it, meaning to silence it and put it away, then pause when I see it’s Isaac sending multiple texts. What now?
“Check it,” Dante says.
“You sure?” I bite my lip.
“Do we look busy?” He grins at the counter, where not a single person waits.
“Thanks. I’ll be quick. It’s one of my clients.”
I step into the tiny office and unlock the phone to find multiple messages from him — photos, actually. Each snapshot showcases Baxter in a different setup: tongue lolling happily as he sprawls across a sunlit floor, ears perked in curiosity at a bird outside the window, paws tangled in a colorful heap of chew toys.
Each picture makes me smile, sends my heart fluttering. The images portray a side of Baxter that’s all too easy to love, and these aren’t pictures taken by someone who hates this dog. If I didn’t know better, I would think that the photographer had ten thousand other dog photos on his phone.
Maybe Isaac isn’t just another rich guy who thinks he can buy his way out of responsibility. Maybe he finally understands that Baxter isn’t just a pet, but a commitment — one that requires patience, consistency, and a whole lot of love.
“Ooh, that’s a big smile,” Dante comments, coming into the office for a Sharpie.
I roll my eyes. “It’s a client.”
“A special client?”
I turn the phone so he can see the picture of Baxter.
“I like blondes too.” He winks as he leaves the office.
I laugh, shocked at how light and joyous I feel. I also know that I can deny it all I want, but it’s getting harder every day to fight my feelings for Isaac. Especially when he’s sending me adorable dog photos, which are the key to my heart.
Putting the phone away, I straighten my apron and head back to the front. It sounds like Dante has customers, and I can’t — and don’t want to — hide back here all day thinking about Isaac.
It seems I don’t have much of a choice, though. He’s on my mind all afternoon, and I’m left constantly wondering what he’s doing now. Did he take Baxter with him to work today?
By the end of my shift, I’ve managed to mostly shake Isaac free. There are a few hours of daylight left, which means I can get some time in at the shelter. Whether or not I’ll go isn’t even a question. The dogs there need me, and it feels good to be needed, to be wanted.
At the shelter, I duck into the bathroom to freshen up then head to the back of the building, where the dogs are kept. The stench of disinfectant and the underlying musk of dog fur, which some people would hate, is oddly comforting. This is my place, my home away from home.
“Finn,” I call out, rounding the corner to the kennels, “you ready to do some work today, buddy?”
“Emily.” It’s Ricki, waving me down.
“Hey,” I smile. “How’s it going?”
“Good. Finn got adopted this morning.”
“Oh.” My jaw drops. I’m so happy for Finn, but I’ll miss him something awful. “That’s great.”
Ricki grins, her own eyes bright. “Yeah, he’s going to a great family. They have a big backyard and two kids who fell in love with him at first sight. And he did everything you taught him while in the meet-and-greet. Showed off how he can sit, stay, give his paw.”
“Good for Finn.” I smile through a watery veil, imagining him romping around, his tail a blur of excitement. It’s moments like these that remind me why I do what I do — why the long hours and emotional toll are worth it.
“Hey, there’s a new guy you should take a look at,” Ricki suggests, motioning me to follow. “He could use some of your magic.”
“Lead the way,” I say, wiping away the last trace of bittersweet tears.
We walk in silence to the newest arrival’s kennel, a gangly shepherd mix. His coat is a patchwork of tan and black, and his ears stand at attention as we approach. But it’s his eyes, wide and uncertain, that draw me in. He’s still unnamed, a blank slate waiting for love to write upon him.
“Here he is,” Ricki says, unlatching the kennel door. “Just came in yesterday. Found wandering near the highway.”
“Hey there, buddy.” I crouch down, offering my hand for him to sniff. He hesitates, nostrils flaring as he takes in my scent. Then, cautiously, he steps forward, his nose brushing against my skin.
“Let’s see what we can do with you, huh?” I murmur, already thinking of training exercises, of ways to build his confidence.
Out in the fenced-in yard, we start out with some play. Balls. Tug toys. It breaks the ice for him, and he’s definitely play-motivated.
“What do you know?” I ask.
His head cocks as he tries to understand what I’m saying to him.
“Sit,” I command softly, and the shepherd obeys, his haunches meeting the ground with an unsteady thud.
He looks up at me, seeking approval, and I give it freely with a gentle pat on his head. “Good boy. So, someone already gave you some training. Smart boy.”
Training the dog anchors me, his needs a good distraction from my own. I’ve been alone for so long, dating only here and there, Jenn my only close friend.
Even my childhood was mostly spent alone, my parents coming and going as they wished, occasionally leaving me on my own for a few days at a time. I learned early on how to fend for myself, how to fake it in the world and pretend everything was fine. I packed my own lunches — even when there was next to nothing in the kitchen — and washed my own clothes.
I did fine.
Yes, fine. But I never thrived, did I?
Have I ever really thrived, in my whole life? Or have I only been surviving? Surviving and keeping people at arm’s length so that they don’t betray me like my parents did?
And now here comes Isaac, and something is different. I want to open up. I want to bare parts of myself I’ve never shown to anyone, and it’s terrifying. Especially because he probably doesn’t even think about me unless I’m standing right in front of him. I’m probably nothing like the women he’s used to — supermodels and heiresses, I’m sure.
Me? I’m just Emily. A dog trainer and barista. A thirty-year-old who has a roommate and is nowhere close to owning her own home. I’m hardly successful by anyone’s standards.
I should stop thinking about Isaac, should stop imagining how it would feel to be the one he comes home to — a warm cup of coffee waiting and a shared, comfortable silence filling the room. To be the one he wraps his strong arms around, his lips grazing my forehead in a kiss.
“Stop,” I mutter to myself, rubbing my temples as though that could erase the images in my head. “Isaac is out of your league.”
The shepherd inches closer, pressing his wet nose against my hand as if sensing my internal turmoil. I scratch behind his ears, earning a delighted thump of his tail.
“I’ll be okay, boy,” I tell him. “I will be.”
Right. Because I always have been. No matter what life throws my way, I make it through. Somehow. Someway.