Chapter Twenty-Two
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
After a therapeutic stop for coffee, I run to Target and buy a sports bra, but sadly, it’s no substitution for my new favorite T-shirt bra from Allure. I can tell Tomás is surprised to see me when I walk into The Pooch Park, but as soon as I step through my office door, Heartthrob jumps all over me, and I let myself forget every single dude on the planet who isn’t a canine. I spend the morning going over employment applications, working on the dog bakery order, and taking Heartthrob for a long walk. Since I’m not in the mood for lunch, I choke down an energy bar and make the ten-minute drive to check on things at Ooh La Pooch. And it’s a good thing I do because Scarlet hurt her back, our second groomer is out of town at a wedding, and our bather, Alicia, needs help lifting two enormous Leonbergers into our elevated steel tubs.
By three o’clock, I’ve mostly run out of managerial things to do and the only dogs left to be bathed are a couple of toy poodles. I’m also suspicious Scarlet’s been talking with Tomás because she has emphasized at least three times that everything’s under control and I should go home.
She has no idea.
After organizing the front desk and emptying every trash receptacle I can find, I say goodbye to Scarlet and Alicia and sit in my car. My phone has been pinging in my pocket all day, but never with calls or texts from Anton. I don’t know if he’s spent today at the gym, moved out, or is waiting at home to talk to me. And I’m not ready to find out. I’m in no mood to deal with my mother and her onslaught of baby pictures either, but I need something, someone I can talk to about the last twenty-four hours. So I dial Caprice.
“Hey. Uh...how’s your Tuesday?” My voice comes out like a strangled Smurf.
“Did you go through with it?” she demands. “God, you could have at least sent me a text. I was starting to think things went badly.”
“Oh.” My lip curls. “They did.”
She lets out a quiet sigh. “I’m sorry, hon. At least it’s over now?”
A sound comes out of my mouth, somewhere between a desperate laugh and a sob, and because Caprice has excellent listening skills, she simply waits for me to speak.
“I—it’s not over,” I finally say. “Not yet.”
There’s a pause. And then she switches our phone call to video. I reluctantly accept.
She peers at me through the screen. “I just needed to verify no one was standing behind you with a gun to your head.”
I press my lips together, and when she homes in on my face, I wish I could turn off the video again.
“Hey, talk to me. What happened?”
I let out a long breath, studying the bright red tip of my own nose in the corner of the screen. “Well, we were going to give things another shot?—”
“Hold on. You need to back up.” Her brown eyes bug. “He thought he had a date with LonelyGirl8. You showed up instead, and now you guys are kissing and making up? Did I miss a step?”
I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter. I think I already screwed it up.”
“Lydia.” Her brows draw together. “How did you mess up here?”
I look at my lap, my mind churning again through everything that happened at the hotel—from the moment Anton touched me to the moment he left—then back over the awful scenario in our bedroom this morning. But it doesn’t stop there. My brain keeps spinning through other moments—at the Wallace’s party, at Ooh La Pooch last week, even just random nights in our bed.
I can’t go on the way it’s been.
“Can I ask you a personal question?”
She raises a brow. “Sure.”
“What is sex like for you?” My voice is so low I can barely hear myself.
A flash of confusion crosses her face, but she shrugs. “Um, fun?”
I swallow hard. Caprice and I are both young, healthy women in our twenties. But I’m married, and she isn’t. Does that automatically take out the fun ? Because it isn’t the word that comes to mind for me. My thoughts go to things like tedious, messy, uncomfortable ...
“Maybe there’s something wrong with me.”
“Excuse me?” She narrows her eyes. “How did we get from your husband being a lying cheater to there being something wrong with you?”
So I tell her everything that’s been swirling through my mind. What went down at the hotel and the awful striptease this morning, but also other stuff that’s been bothering me. How Anton seems to want sex all the time, but it’s the last thing I want to do. That I avoid touching him. And when I do give in to him, I wouldn’t describe it as fun . It feels...obligatory.
“So maybe this is all my fault.” I frown.
“Can I ask a question before you play the blame game?” Caprice says, ignoring me. “You guys have been together, what, eight? Ten years? Was it always this way?”
I open my mouth to say yes, except that’s not true. When Anton and I first met, things were different. I remember getting excited when we touched. Wanting to take off each other’s clothes. The first time we had sex was terrible, but it was the first time for both of us with anyone. That seemed like a given. It got easier from there, some times definitely better than others. But I have to admit it used to be different than it is now.
“Maybe not?”
“Great!” she says, looking slightly relieved. “Then you can get back to that—there’s hope. But I think you might be approaching this wrong. You don’t need to do stuff like a striptease if you’re not into it.”
“Then what should I do?”
“I don’t know. Maybe spend some time figuring out what’s changed. See if you can get back to what used to work?”
I mull that over. I don’t have a lot of faith in my instincts here, but maybe she’s on to something. “You sure your passion is journalism? I feel like you could charge a decent rate for therapy.”
Her eyes glimmer. “I’m almost finished writing this article. Trust me, your husband’s Unmatched bros will be paying my fee.”
“Fair enough.” My skin stings thinking of the other wives about to discover the truth in their marriages. I wonder how many of them will end up dumping their husbands. And how many will find themselves in some kind of love-tethered limbo like me.
“Don’t worry, I’m keeping you and Anton out of it,” Caprice assures me. “But Lydia, before you bend over backward to figure this out by yourself, don’t forget he was the one ready to cheat. He owes you some extra effort too.”
My arms are overloaded with cleaning supplies from a last-minute Costco run as I get back to The Pooch Park to pick up Heartthrob, so I don’t see the person standing outside until he offers to get the door for me.
“Oh, thank you so much.” I glance up and spot a familiar face. “Henry! How’s it going?”
Anton’s college friend is possibly the last person I expected to see outside my daycare, considering he’s never owned a dog, but he gives me a subdued smile and follows me inside. I set the Clorox wipes, garbage bags, and other items behind the desk and straighten up to find Henry peering through one of the interior windows into the main playroom, watching a goldendoodle wrestle with a dalmatian until a cattle dog zooms between them and all three give chase around the room. Over in the smaller dog area, a couple of dachshunds take turns having their bellies rubbed by one of my employees.
“Looks like you’re doing a brisk business,” he says in his faint British accent. He’s holding a leash in his hand, and I follow it down to an adorable fawn French bulldog standing at his feet.
“Oh my goodness—who is this?” I ask, falling to my knees in front of the little pup. She wiggles her butt and bows at the attention, sniffs my outstretched hand, then spins happily in a circle. “Henry, she’s adorable!”
“Her name is Carmelita,” he says, rolling his eyes. “My sister suckered me into taking care of her while she travels abroad.”
I tickle Carmelita behind her big ears until she makes all kinds of adorable snorts, and I laugh. “I bet she’ll be lucky if you even want to give her back.”
Henry frowns. “Look, she’s doing a number on my apartment while I’m at work. Anton said it might help if I brought her here.”
I stiffen a little at my husband’s name, but there’s nothing in Henry’s face indicating Anton’s let his friend in on the state of our marriage.
“Sure,” I say, straightening back up. “She seems pretty young. Two or three days a week here would give her some good exercise, keep her entertained, and wear her out. If you want, I can take her back for a few minutes and see how she does. We like to do a sort of ‘interview’ with every new dog before they start.”
“A dog interview?” Henry’s lip twitches, but he hands me the leash.
“Great, I’ll be right back.”
I hand off the little Frenchie to Tomás, who introduces her to the small dog area as we watch through the window. She hesitates at first, looking cautious as the dachshunds and a Westie all come over to sniff her, but she quickly decides this is fun and engages a little beagle mix in a very bouncy game.
I smile at Henry. “Just as I suspected. She’ll be a perfect fit.”
“Great,” he says, looking relieved. It seems obvious now that he’s less than thrilled with his new charge. Henry’s a good-looking guy, always well dressed, hair never out of place. The few times I’ve been to his Seventeenth Street loft with Anton, it’s looked much the same as its owner. He reminds me a bit of Caprice—not really a dog person.
“How long did you say you’re taking care of her? ”
“Only through summer. I hope. While Ruby’s back in England finishing her studies.”
“That’s so cool that you can give her a good home while your sister’s gone. Carmelita will have a blast here.”
Henry sniffs. “What’s the pricing like for this, by the way?”
I indicate the fees detailed on the wall behind the desk. I’m not sure exactly what Henry does for work—something with real estate or banking—but he always drives a leased Mercedes, so I doubt it’ll be a problem for him.
He studies the board, peers through the window like he’s counting dogs, then gives a low whistle. “You make a killing with this, don’t you? Just sitting around watching dogs play.”
My face heats up. Occasionally, people bring this up. Usually men. I’m proud of my business, but when they make it sound like I’m raking in money doing nothing, it always makes me feel weird. I work my butt off to run this place.
“Just filling a niche,” I say with an awkward laugh. “People in Denver love their dogs.”
He leans casually on the desk. “You have another business too, right?”
“Yep, Ooh La Pooch was my first. It’s a grooming salon. And we’re actually in the process of opening a second Pooch Park.”
Henry shakes his head, looking me up and down in a peculiar way, and suddenly I can’t tell if he’s impressed that people spend so much on their dogs or that I’m really a successful businesswoman.
“Okay, go ahead and give me the monthly package.” He hands me a credit card. “Ruby had better pay me back for this.”
I input Carmelita into our system as Tomás brings her back out, still running in delighted circles at the end of her leash. Henry holds it at arm’s length until she settles down.
“All set,” I say, handing him his new member card and receipt. “You can bring her in tomorrow if you like.”
“Great. Thanks, Lydia.” He nods and strides for the door. “Tell Anton I owe him one.”