She nods. “Absolutely.”
Before we can even make it to the back door, Daddy Dearest comes strutting in like he owns the place. And I know he does. He fucking does. Don’t remind me.
He stops, surprised to see us. I’m not going to be the first to talk here. In fact, I try to maneuver Kiki around him to no avail.
“Leaving so soon?” my father asks.
“We just have somewhere to be.” Like my bed with our clothes off.
“What have you got going on here?”
In my own haste to get Kiki naked, I forgot to put away the artwork for the beer we’ve been testing. “Nothing.”
My father picks up a design and studies the picture. “What is this? Is this a beer for dogs?”
Kiki glances at me. Sure, I’m here to help my father not lose his life’s work, but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna share all my ideas with him before I even know if they’re gonna work.
Hell, I have barely told Urban my plan, all he knows is I’m working on something new.
My father scoffs. “You think the way to bring this company back to life is by giving beer to dogs?” The look on his face shows exactly how unimpressed he is.
“It’s actually a bit more than that,” Kiki says. “It’s pretty genius.” I know she’s trying to ease some of the tension floating in the air, but it’s a waste of her time.
“What’s this?” He picks up the graphic with pink bottles. “Is this what I think it is?” He raises a brow.
“It’s a beer geared toward females.”
Obviously, he’s not a fan of these ideas, and I won’t let him belittle me, especially in front of Kiki.
“You don’t want my help?” I let go of Kiki’s hand, leaning against the stainless-steel counter. “I’ll go back home to Atlanta and call it a day.”
My father stares at the graphics a second time before asking, “Do you really think people would be into this sort of thing?” This time his tone is more thoughtful of the product. Like he might actually be thinking about it.
“I do.” I take the pictures from his hands. “And you should too. I’m here to help, nothing more.”
I grab Kiki’s hand and this time I do make it to the door before my father calls out my name.
I stop, glancing over my shoulder.
“I’m glad you’re here,” he says. “Truly, I am.” All the cockiness leaves his face, revealing just an old man with a lot of regret filling his eyes.
I nod and walk out the door with Kiki.
Not even looking back.
SEVENTEEN
Kiki
Never forget to answer your phone...
“Where were you last night?” Poppi asks as I stroll into the Dog Spaw early the next morning.
“Ellis took me to his brewery to try a few things.” I shrug, like it’s no big deal.
Because if I make this into a big deal, it’ll escalate into boyfriend territory and then Ellis will think I’m trying to hook him into a marriage. I mean, he has to already be thinking about it, right? I plan weddings. I was engaged.
Two plus two and all that.
I mean, he has to think all I want in life is to wear a white gown and walk down an aisle. But, that’s not what this is at all.
I don’t feel like I need to get married right now. Sure, I’ve thought about it. I feel like it’s on Ellis’ mind too. And I wish there was a way I could get it off his mind. Because I don’t want to ruin this thing before it’s begun.
Ugh, to be honest, I’m kind of glad he left for a few days to head back to Atlanta. It’s a nice break to think. But, that task proves impossible because of the next person who walks through the front door of the Dog Spaw.
“Hi, Kiki. How are you?” Yasmin saunters in and gives me air kisses on each cheek. “It’s been too long.”
I think it hasn’t, but I play nice anyway. “What brings you by today, Mrs. Atwood?”
“Well, I wanted to get more information about your services. I have two Pomeranians. Doodles and Sparkles. And I want them to get married.”
She stuffs her hand into her oversized Prada bag, and pulls out a bedazzled phone. She swipes and taps and then the next thing I know I’m staring at two little golden furballs. “This is them.”
When Yasmin said at dinner she’d want to talk to me about her pups, I never imagined she’d actually follow through. And I’m thrilled I get to plan another wedding.
I sit Yasmin down at a small table near the front window. “Would you like something to drink?” I ask her.
“Sparkling water, three limes and one lemon. No ice.”
I nod and leave her to grab my binder with a few samples and pictures of things I can offer with the dog weddings. Once I’ve retrieved the big three-ring binder, I make my way back with the sparkling water and take a seat. “Sorry, fresh out of fruit.” And that’s the truth, we don’t keep fresh lemons and limes on hand. Why would we?
She waves a dismissive hand. “Oh, it’s fine, dear. Now let’s talk about Doodles and Sparkles.”
I pull out a notebook and flip it open. “When would you like the wedding to take place and where?”
She pushes her long blonde hair off her shoulder. “Next weekend at our estate. We have a gorgeous backyard that overlooks the water.”
I pick up my phone to check the calendar and my heart skips a beat when I see I’ve got a missed text message from Ellis. I don’t open it and check the calendar for the date. “Ok, that’ll be the thirty-first. We can totally do that. Do you have an idea of how many guests there will be?”
Yasmin’s face lights. “Seventy-five at the most.”
My eyes widen because seventy-five people...for a dog wedding? It’s almost mind-blowing. I swallow. “That’s quite a lot of people.”
Yasmin smiles. “Yes, we have lots of friends with pets. I’m in a Doggy Mommy group in the neighborhood.”
I smile, writing down the number.
Yasmin places her hand over mine. “Do you think you could talk to Ellis? Convince him to come? It would mean so much to Doodles and Sparkles.”
I bite the end of my pen. I’m sure it’s not the dogs who want him there, but I smile. “Ok, sure. I’ll try.”
Yasmin and I spend the next thirty minutes discussing all things doggy weddings, and the whole time I try my hardest not to think about the text burning a hole in my pocket.
As soon as she walks out the door, I yank my phone out of my jeans’ back pocket and open up the messages.
“Thinking about you,” is all it reads.
And I swear my heart does some little fluttery-flippity thing.
“So, you can’t stop thinking about me, huh?” I text Ellis back once I get home from work. I kick off my shoes and fall onto my couch.
His reply comes back in an instant, “Yes. All day.”
“I’ve been thinking about you, too.”
“Have you missed me?” he texts back.
Honestly the man has been gone for twenty-four hours and yes, I do miss him. Is that too shameful to admit? I’m trying to be casual here, so Ellis doesn’t think I’m a psycho-wannabe bride. “Maybe a little.”