Without saying a word, we reach SparkFinder, Juno’s matchmaking business. She positions the box from the bakery under her arm so she can fiddle with her keys. Usually she would’ve given me the box to somehow Jenga my way into holding two coffees and a box. I guess we’re still in that uncomfortable space.
She flicks on the lights in the small office that holds her desk and a few chairs. No one really ever has to wait to see her since it’s mostly by appointment only. There’s a room in the back for when she does open companion calls, which is when anyone can come in to be matched with a specific bachelor or bachelorette.
Juno only did two years at college in order to explore what she views as her calling, passed down to her by her ancestors. She truly believes she was born with the gift to match people. The gift of knowing who can reach their fiftieth wedding anniversary versus the ones who will never see past one date. All because she has the same hair as her great-aunt Etta. I humored her through the years but finally challenged her once after biology class when we learned about recessive and dominant genes. One of the many things I love about Juno is the way she can block out any rational explanation for something she believes in. She thinks I don’t see the true reason she’s so hell-bent on claiming the genealogy, but I do.
“I’m sorry,” she says to the pink bakery box instead of me, setting it down and opening it up.
“You don’t have to be sorry.” I sip my coffee.
“You have to be kidding me.” Her chin falls to her chest in pure defeat.
She’s struggling with all the Bailey family dynamics, so if whatever is in that box will finally allow her to let it all out, I’ll call Dr. Murphy and tell him I’ll be fifteen minutes late.
But she turns away from the box, snapping the head off a dinosaur cookie with her teeth. “Greta must have thought I was getting the cookies for Harley.”
I walk over and peek in the box to find dinosaur, flower, and baby rattle cookies. “Who are they for?”
She rounds her desk, pretending to go through a stack of papers that I know are print-offs of clients’ personal data. “A new client.”
“Rolling out the red carpet, huh? What about the water and bags of chips or crackers you usually offer?” I attempt a joke, but she doesn’t laugh.
“I really want him as a client, so I figured I’d schmooze him so he signs today.”
“If he’s smart, he will.”
At least we can still hold a conversation.
She peeks up and smiles. Her makeup is heavier today, her hair more curled. This client must be important. “I shouldn’t have done what I did. I put you in a horrible situation.”
I shake my head. “It’s fine. Honestly.”
She nods. “It was wrong to Brigette. It’s just…”
A large part of me wants her to continue. Tell me why she suddenly wanted to kiss me that night, but the other part, the part that knows I can’t entertain that option, says it’s a good thing the words go unspoken. “It’s okay, Juno. I’m not going to tell her anything. We’re just getting used to this new situation.”
A new situation that I caused.
“Friends?” she asks, smiling at me.
“Always.”
Her chest rises and falls with a deep breath, and her gaze darts to the clicking clock that’s the only sound in the room.
“Oh, here you go.” I set her coffee on her desk. “I better go. Rhys is coming in with his new dog today.”
“You don’t have to give me Brigette’s coffee just because I’m upset.” She picks it up and holds it out to me.
How did I not consider this wedge Brigette is putting between us? “I bought the coffee for you.”
“Oh.” She sips it as if she needs the caffeine to survive. “Thanks.”
I nod. “Brigette only drinks from Brewed Awakenings. Says it’s the most like back home.”
Her small smile falls. “I better get set up for him.”
“How about we have lunch? Tomorrow?”
“Sure. Text me. Sorry, I really have to use the bathroom.” She sets down her coffee and walks away. “Have a great day.”
And the bathroom door shuts.
Usually, I’d bust the bathroom door open and call her out on her bullshit, but since I’m the reason she can’t look at me, I leave.
“Bonjour,” Brigette says when I walk through the back door of Four Paws Veterinary Clinic. She’s already wearing her white jacket and holds her Brewed Awakenings coffee in hand.
“Good morning.”
She sits at the small table in our break room while I go to my locker to put on my white coat.
“You seem down,” she says.
I shake my head. She doesn’t need me to convey my guilt that my best friend has no idea how to handle the fact I’m getting married. So much so, that she convinced herself a week ago that she wanted me. I’ve made my feelings clear over the years, but Juno’s always had a Heisman trophy arm poised in my direction. I understood her hang-ups about us being a couple, but it didn’t make it any easier to take. I’ve done stupid shit witnessing her with someone else too, so can I really blame her? No.
“I’m fine. Just Monday.” I slide my arms through my white jacket and shut my locker.
“Are you sure? You can talk to me about anything.”
Brigette knows the situation with Juno, and I could talk to her about it and she’d understand, but I think she might feel bad about it too. And right now, I just want to drown myself in work.
“No, you ready to start the day?” I ask.
She nods, sipping her coffee. I pick up mine and we walk to the receptionist’s area. Our vet assistant, Hillary, is prepping the paperwork.
“Good morning, Hillary. Morning, Lori,” I say to Hillary and our receptionist, Dr. Murphy’s sister, Lori.
“Good morning, you two lovebirds.” Hillary winks.
Brigette slides her arm through mine and rises on her toes to kiss my cheek. “I’m afraid my fiancé has a horrible case of the Mondays.”
They both laugh because Brigette has been brushing up on her American movies. I made a list of my favorites and she pulls one line out each time she watches one.
“Office Space.” We look up to see Rhys standing in the small welcome opening. “I believe you have my stapler.”
We all laugh. Rhys is a tattoo artist down at Smokin’ Guns, which Juno’s brother-in-law, Liam Kelly, owns.
“Hey, Rhys.” I put my hand on Lori’s shoulder. “Sorry, I forgot to tell you that Rhys was coming in this morning. I ran into him this weekend and he adopted a new puppy.”
“Okay, I just need you to fill out this paperwork first.” Lori slides out of her chair to grab a prepared clipboard. “I would’ve had the file prepped if I’d known you were coming, so you wouldn’t have to fill it out while holding your dog.”
Lori’s neurotic behavior shines brightly in front of our newest customer. Although if Dr. Murphy ever retires, I’m sure it’ll be part of the agreement that I have to keep Lori on.
“I’ll watch him.” Brigette sips her coffee tosses the cup in the trash can, nudging me out of the way. I’ve never seen her not finish her entire coffee—except when I took her to Lard Have Mercy once. She lives for the stuff.