25. Amy
Amy
"Who's a good girl? Who's the luckiest little pommy pom? Who is it? Is it you?" Max coos at Lucky, ruffling her fluffy white fur. She yips happily, tail wagging a mile a minute as she tries to lick his face.
I smile despite myself, sipping my iced latte.
It's perfect outside. Sunny. Light breeze. Quiet. Only a few other patrons are scattered about the wrought-iron tables of the cafe patio.
"So," Max says casually, still focused on Lucky. "How you doing, Ames? Really. Outside of work, we haven't talked enough."
I shrug, tracing the condensation on my glass with a finger. "I'm... okay. Mostly."
Max raises an eyebrow. "Mostly?"
I sigh. "Romance has been a shit-show, but everything else is amazing. The stream numbers are insane, Max. I'm getting sponsorship offers left and right."
"That's outstanding! I'm so proud of you." He grins, and we high-five like we always do. It's nice to have your little brother as one of your best friends and cheerleaders. "You deserve all the success, sis."
I sigh. "I need to start working on all my priorities. It's too much for one person, and you can't do everything at the store on your own. I'm thinking of hiring a store manager. Full-time. It would help you out, too, since it's been affecting you the most."
Max nods. "Makes sense. You've been gone a ton lately. I can keep an eye out, ask around. Pretty sure I know someone who'd be perfect, actually."
"Yeah?" I perk up, intrigued. "Who?"
He waves a hand. "Let me feel them out first, see if they're interested. I'll let you know."
"Okay, sounds good." I sit back, nibbling on a lemon pastry. The sweet-tart burst of lemon explodes on my tongue.
I love these things.
I'm going to gain fifty pounds eating them.
We lapse into companionable silence, enjoying the day. Max tosses a piece of bacon to Lucky and she snaps it up. She's going to end up fat, too, if I keep letting my brother feed her.
Still, I'm too lazy to bother right now. It's such a nice day.
"So, uh," Max clears his throat. "I've kind of been talking to someone."
I nearly choke on my tart. "What? Who? Why am I just now hearing about this?!" I demand, leaning forward.
Max ducks his head, picking at the label on his beer bottle. "It's, uh... the new groomer we hired last week. Donovan."
I gasp. "Donovan? But he's married!"
Max shakes his head. "Not anymore. Got divorced like three years ago."
"What? Then why does he still wear a ring?"
Max laughs. "To keep the ladies away, apparently. Doesn't seem to be working too well."
Donovan has been a huge hit with the women who bring their dogs in.
I snort, rolling my eyes. "Clearly."
Max glances up at me, looking almost shy. "I really like him, Ames. Like... a lot."
My heart melts a little at the vulnerability in his voice. "Are you happy?" I ask softly.
A slow smile spreads across his face, eyes crinkling at the corners. "Yeah. Yeah, I am. I wish you were too, dork. I worry about you, you know."
I bat his hand away when he reaches to tweak my nose. "I know. But I'm okay, really. I've got Lucky, the shop, the stream... I'm good." It's all a lie, but I have to fake it. It'll be real one day, when I've shaken off this obsession with a summer fling.
It was only ever meant to be memories.
Max studies me, looking doubtful. He knows me too well. "Okay. But you know I'm always here if you need me, right? No matter what."
Tears prick the back of my eyes. "I know," I whisper. "Thanks, Maxie."
Damn. If it wasn't for the forty-five negative pregnancy tests, I'd think I was pregnant with all these damn tears coming to my eyes.
"Anytime, Ames." He clinks his bottle against my glass. "Anytime."
The rest of our lunch passes in easy conversation and laughter. By the time we settle the bill and head out, I'm feeling lighter than I have in weeks.
Maybe Max is right. Maybe I don't need a man to be happy. I've got everything I need right here. Family, friends, a job I love...
So what if I can't stop thinking about ocean-blue eyes and strong hands? So what if my chest aches every time I see a flash of blond hair in a crowd?
I'll be fine. I am fine.
Lucky whines, pulling on her leash to sniff a bush. I let her lead me, breathing in the fragrant summer air.
It's just a stupid crush. It'll fade. They always do.
I'm going to be fi—
My heart stops.
There, bending to lift a box from the back of the moving truck, is a very familiar tall, muscular form. Golden hair glints in the sun.
No. It can't be.
As if sensing my stare, he straightens and turns.
Piercing blue-green eyes lock with mine.
"Hello, Amy."