Chapter 23 Gwen
GWEN
Everywhere I looked, photo ops. A senior citizen snuggling a labrador with a white-dusted face, a family trying to decide which puppy in the pile was the cutest, a woman sequestered in the corner of the parking lot with a skinny, trembling dog camped out on her lap.
The adoption event was nearing the end, and my guess was we’d nearly cleared the shelter.
The additional star power and press that came along with Scarlet’s endorsement was a big part of the turnout, despite the fact that Scarlet was with us only in spirit.
She was busy kicking off the European portion of her tour, but she’d taken the time to highlight the adoption drive in one of her Insta stories, which was enough to send crowds of potential adopters to the furniture store parking lot.
I scanned the gathered people, trying to find Harrison.
He’d been distant in the week between his father’s party and the adoption event, which I chalked up to general stress over processing his dad’s health scare.
At least that’s what I kept trying to convince myself when our hugs were cut short and he seemed to default to sex whenever I was on the verge of pushing for a real conversation.
“How wonderful is this?” Susan asked. She held her hand over her eyes to shield them from the bright sun as she gazed at the happily ever afters currently underway.
“I’m ecstatic,” I answered. “And I bet Harrison is too.”
I watched her expression, eager to see her response. Susan was about as close to Harrison as you could get. She could probably pick up on behavioral nuances I wasn’t aware of.
She nodded. “If he could stop obsessing about that dog Monty, I’m sure he’d be thrilled by the turnout.”
“Is that where he is?” I asked.
“Oh yes. He’s like a one-man marketing agent for the dog. And the pup needs it, poor thing.”
I’d become familiar with all the available dogs in the lead-up to the event, and Monty was the hardest hard-luck case of the bunch. We all knew the puppies would be first to go, followed by the well-mannered adult dogs, then the seniors.
Which left Monty.
What the dog didn’t have in good looks he made up for with personality, but the problem was no one could get past his face.
His boxer and pit bull mix left him with an underbite that made him look like a reverse vampire, with fangs hanging out on the bottom instead of the top.
He was squat and short-legged, with a sturdy tank-like body.
To make his chances of adoption even worse, he was a dark black-gray, which made him look a little sinister even though his vibes were one hundred percent goofball.
All of that plus his diabetes diagnosis meant that poor Monty needed the perfect person to come along and recognize the diamond in the ruff.
I finally spotted Harrison under a tree, holding Monty’s leash.
“Hey, you, has anyone shown any interest in him?” I asked as I joined them.
Monty did a cute little dance for me, throwing his head back and forth and spinning in place. I kneeled to pet him.
“Not yet,” Harrison grumbled. “I don’t get it.
He’s fully potty trained, he walks beautifully on the leash, he’s good with kids, cats, and other dogs.
His former owner said he’s a total couch potato.
And I’ve offered to cover the cost of his insulin and other medications for the rest of his life, so what’s the problem? ”
I shrugged and watched the sweet pup stare at the people walking by him. “Adopters want what they want, unfortunately. Black dogs and cats are the toughest to adopt out.”
“Ridiculous and infuriating,” Harrison sighed.
He seemed pent up, and I knew it wasn’t just because of his bad-luck friend at the end of the leash.
“Hey, why don’t we stroll a bit?” I suggested. “Might be good for both of you to stretch your legs.”
“But what if we miss someone?” Harrison gestured toward the few people still milling around the parking lot.
I pulled out my phone to check the time.
“We need to start shutting down soon. We don’t want to piss off the building owner by overstaying our welcome.
It’s fine, Harrison, let’s walk. I’ll get some cute shots of Monty and make a point to highlight him in our coverage of the event.
A hard-luck story always brings the views.
Maybe someone who couldn’t make it today will see the pics and fall in love. ”
He sighed again. “Okay, let’s go.”
Monty grinned and panted like we were heading out for a hike at a nature preserve instead of navigating a city sidewalk with cars speeding by.
The two of them moved in tandem, like walking together was already their thing. Monty stayed close to Harrison’s calf and glanced up at him every so often. I paused to let them move in front of me and snapped a photo of them from behind.
“You know, the answer is right there,” I said. “For Monty’s happily ever after.”
He frowned at me. “What do you mean?”
“He’s in love with you, Harrison. How can you not see it? You’re his person, you just need to open your eyes to it.”
He made an incredulous huff. “Me? No, this guy loves everyone equally. Right, bud? You’re a big softie, aren’t you?”
Harrison looked down at the dog, and Monty wagged his tail so hard his entire body swayed.
“You could do this,” I insisted.
“But he’s sick,” Harrison said in a strained voice. “He needs dedicated attention.”
“Attention that you’re fully equipped to either provide yourself or pay someone to handle,” I said gently. “Canine diabetes is manageable.”
“Not possible for me,” Harrison said with a firm head shake. “I don’t have the bandwidth to take on a sick dog. No way.”
I flinched at his tone.
“Well okay, then.”
I knew the best response was to leave it alone, but I couldn’t resist pushing a little.
“It’s probably going to be super sad when you have to put him back in his cage at the shelter. He’ll be all alone. Poor guy.”
Harrison let out a strained sigh. “Yup. Sucks. Life’s hard.”
He looked down at Monty as the dog grinned and wiggled his way down the sidewalk.
Harrison was making a mistake, and the only one who didn’t see it was him.
I could hardly believe I was here.
My time with Ashford was speeding to an end, which was why I was meeting with a leasing agent in an impressive shiny building. To talk about available space.
For my new crisis PR agency.
Even now that I was deep in the process, it didn’t quite feel real.
Maybe because I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted it to be real.
Opening my own office had always been the goal, but right now, I wasn’t so sure.
I was nervous, but I was also melancholy.
I’d been embraced by the Ashford team, and I loved my work there.
I was proud of what we’d accomplished. I felt accepted. Appreciated.
Would I still have wanted to open my own agency if I’d worked at Ashford all along instead of the McPherson hellscape?
Maybe opening my own agency was a trauma response to working for shitbags?
On the other hand, Harrison hadn’t even hinted at extending my stay, which meant I needed to focus on my future.
He’d been distant and moody since the adoption event three days prior. I tried not to obsess about it.
“Just get back to me about which space works for you,” the leasing agent was saying.
“This building is filling up quickly. The one with the corner office has only been on the market for a week, and we already have interest, so the sooner you can make the call, the better chance of you getting exactly what you want.”
I thought I’d known what I wanted, but now nothing felt certain.
In a perfect world, I’d talk to Harrison about my options and maybe even bring him to check out both spaces, but it felt…wrong.
Striking out on my own would be a kind of stopping point for us, and I wasn’t sure how we’d weather the change. Would there even be an “us” anymore once the crisis was fully put to bed and he no longer needed my help?
“Sounds good,” I replied as we shook hands. “I’ll get back to you before the end of the week.”
I examined every little aspect of the building on my way out, trying to find a flaw that would turn me off to the place. But no, it was frickin’ perfect, from the elegant main lobby to the super speedy elevator. And the offices themselves? A dream. There was no wrong choice.
So why was I hesitating?
I slid into my car and pulled out my phone to check what I’d missed during the meeting. A heads-up about the adoption day coverage in the press along with a text from my old colleague Becca from Hildy’s agency.
We hadn’t connected in forever, other than likes on social media. I opened her message and immediately saw Ian’s name.
Shit.
She sent me a few screenshots of him ranting about me on his various social media accounts. I had to hand it to him for tailoring his message to each platform. His marketing acumen was on point, even when he was using it to say terrible things about me.
His Instagram account featured a photo of me from an event, taken when I wasn’t looking so my eyes were closed and my mouth was open.
He’d stamped the word “canceled” across the image and used the caption to talk about how I was a jealous wannabe who’d gotten him fired without reason.
There were other posts on X that implied I was a slut.
On the bright side, this meant I’d been right about Scarlet firing him. On the downside…ugh, why did he have to be such a whiny little pest?
I thanked Becca for letting me know then eased into traffic. The office was a little farther away from my place than I would’ve liked, which meant I had time to call Harrison to vent about the latest bullshit in my life.
“Hey,” he answered.
My heart sank. The single syllable was enough to clue me in to his state of mind.
Grumpy.
“Hi,” I said as brightly as I could. “Have I got some drama for you.”
“Like I need more.”
I ignored the sarcasm in his voice.
“Yeah, same. It sucks. So here I was thinking that Ian was in my rearview mirror, but he’s stirring up trouble again. My friend Becca from Hildy’s just texted me screenshots of him ranting about me online, blaming me for him getting fired and calling me an opportunist who slept my way to the top.”
“Are you serious?”
“Oh yeah. Wait until I show you the screenshots. They’re classic.”
“Is it possible you have a defamation case?” Harrison asked.
I slowed down as I approached a stoplight and pulled my phone out again. “Not worth it, really. He’s got all of four hundred followers on Instagram; I don’t think he’s going to get any traction.”
“Good.”
I didn’t like Harrison reverting back to Mr. Monosyllable, but it seemed his old personality was reemerging. It made me a little queasy because what I’d chalked up to processing the bombshell of his father’s health scare was starting to feel like something else entirely.
I searched for a way to put the conversation on a more positive note.
“Oh, before we hang up, I wanted to tell you that one of the dogs adopted on Saturday is already an influencer!” The light turned green, so I tossed my phone onto the seat next to me and put my foot on the gas. “His person has a really popular restaurant, and he made his new pup a mascot.”
The next thing I heard was the sound of screaming brakes.