Page 22 of Except You

I smell that floral scent of his shampoo and inhale quietly, so as not to be a creep. He doesn’t move away from me for long minutes, just holding me to him, his hands drawing shapes on my back.

And I take comfort in it, in the way he cares for me. I haven’t been touched like this in ages.

When he finally pulls away, I feel almost bereft, but I bite it back.

I’m growing far too attached to this man, and yet I’m doing nothing to stop it.

“Why don’t you send him a picture of your dog?”

Doggo appears from the hallway, one of my shoes in his mouth.

“God, here we go,” I say, swiping at my eyes once more. “Okay, yeah, you can take one and we can send it.”

He nods and then grabs my phone. I sink down onto my knees, and Doggo goes wild, tippy-tapping on his paws, licking at my face. I can’t help the laugh that falls from my lips as I try to wrestle him away from me. Not that I’m successful. I only manage to make him even more excited. When I finally stand up, wiping at my face, Beau is grinning.

“I sent the best one. You look so cute and happy in it.”

I take the phone from him and see the picture of me and Doggo. He’s mid-lick and my face is thrown back in a loud laugh. I do look happy.

Perhaps getting a dog was the right choice.

“Thanks,” I say and then wet my lips. “Wanna stay over again?”

I don’t mean for it to sound like a sleepover, but it does, and I do nothing to clarify.

“I want to, but I actually have plans in like an hour.”

“Oh,” I say, feeling disappointment well up within me. “Cool.”

“I mean, we’ll see how it goes. It could be a disaster.”

I nod and then continue unpacking the bags and putting the dog food away. I don’t know what’s happening to me, but I don’t like it. It’s probably good that he’s going out and not staying over.

It’s not healthy, these feelings I’m having toward him.

This is for the best.

Chapter Four

Max

Idefinitely shouldn’t call Beau to make sure he’s okay. He hasn’t messaged or called me for at least twenty-four hours. Okay, maybe I’m exaggerating. It’s only mid-afternoon the following day. He’s probably busy with work. That’s the logical conclusion.

Doggo is by my feet as I work, and I’m bored out of my goddamn mind, so I reach down to pet him.

“Shouldn’t call him, right? That would be weird.”

Doggo just snorts at me and then nibbles on my hand.

“Yeah, you’re right. It’s a bad idea.”

I sit back up and stare at my computer screen, the numbers blurring together. I’m probably getting a migraine or something. It’s probably stress-induced.

It has nothing to do with Beau and not hearing from him. I’m not going through withdrawals.

“This has nothing to do with him,” I murmur, and Doggo rests his head on my leg in agreement.

“Glad I have you, Doggo, to talk some sense into me. I’d make a fool of myself otherwise.”