Page 60 of Only and Forever
SEVENTEEN
Viggo
Playlist: “I Won’t Give Up,” Noah Guthrie
The pups and I are on our second walk of the evening. Romeo and Juliet seem less enthusiastic about this stroll than the first, but I just couldn’t sit around the house, waiting to hear from Tallulah, worrying about what made her leave, wrestling with this gut feeling that something’s wrong.
At the intersection, we stop and wait our turn to cross. Romeo plops onto his stomach with a weary sigh. Juliet takes one look at him and plops onto her stomach, too.
“Come on, now,” I tell them. “Don’t give up on me. It’s breezy out, not too hot. It’s the perfect night for an evening promenade.”
Romeo cocks his head, skepticism written all over his doggy face.
“Yes, I said, ‘evening promenade.’ Don’t give me that attitude, old man. I like my historical romances—expressions like that are going to slip out from time to time, so you better get used to it.”
Romeo blows out a doggyhmphand glances away.
Juliet whines.
I crouch and pet her, soft, steady strokes from her snout up over her head. “I’m sorry I made us go out again. I’m just worried about Lu—”
My phone rings in my pocket, theBridgertontheme song’s string notes bursting through the road noise nearby. I stand so I can reach my phone in my pocket, fumbling for it as it rings again. My heartdrops to my feet when I see it’s Tallulah. Something’s happened to her; that’s the only reason she’d call. No millennial in their right mind calls unless something’s seriously wrong.
I’m about to accept the call when it ends abruptly. Immediately I tap Tallulah’s number, trying to call her back. It goes straight to voicemail. Maybe Tallulah’s lost her key and she’s locked out. Maybe she’s home, wondering where I am. Maybe she’s been in an accident on that death trap of a motorbike. I tug gently on the dogs’ leashes. They’re all too happy to turn around and head home.
I try to call Tallulah again, but again, it goes straight to voicemail. Panic tightens my chest. I hustle the dogs along, as fast as they can go without having to break into a jog.
When I get home, Tallulah’s Vespa isn’t outside, no sign of her as I start to walk the place, calling her name. Just as I’m pulling my phone from my pocket to try her again, I get a text from her.
Sorry for calling. Meant to text instead. Something came up that I have to take care of. I’ll be back the day after tomorrow, in time to help with prep for the soft opening.
I stare at her message, worry tugging my brow tight, my mouth into a frown. Taking a deep breath, I type my response back.
Don’t worry about the soft opening. I’ve got it under control. Take the time you need, Tallulahloo. I’ll be right here when you get back.
She doesn’t respond. But my phone immediately shows my text has been read. That’s a consolation. She knows I’m here. That I care. Even if she doesn’t know how to respond to that.
Half an hour later, a text-alert sound dings in my headphones, interrupting my audiobook as I sway in my rocker, knitting this blanket in progress. I pause Mary Jane Wells’s god-tier narration and feel my pulse quicken as I unlock my phone.
A smile lifts my mouth. It’s the smallest thing, but it feels so damn big.
Tallulah’s responded to my message with a sunshine-yellow heart.
—
“Wow, brother.” Oliver stands, hands on hips, staring down at the mewling kittens twining around him. “You truly do nothing by half measures. Allfiveof them.”
I scrub the back of my neck. Five kittens in theory was cute. Five in practice is... a tad overwhelming. “I just couldn’t break up a big brood of siblings. It didn’t feel right.”
Oliver crouches and pets the kittens. “At least they’re cute.”
They’re also loud. The main room of the house echoes with tiny kitten meows.
Crouching, I join Oliver on the floor.
“So,” he says casually, “where’s Tallulah?”
I clear my throat. “Not here. Something came up that she had to deal with, and she said she’d be gone a couple days.”