A Tail for Two

by Mara Wells

  Adam dropped her hand and resumed their walk, angling them away from the ocean and toward the dunes. “Did you know Lance told me yellow dahlias are your favorite?” He guided her through the roped path, sea grass on either side swaying in the light breeze, to perch on the low coral wall that separated the dunes from the pedestrian walkway. “He also suggested I take you for dessert at Smith & Wollensky. Said you loved their cake selection.”

  “No.” Carrie flattened her palms against the uneven top of the wall, scooting her butt until she was comfortable. She could believe Lance tanking her date; she couldn’t imagine him trying to improve it. “Why would he do that?”

  “He wants you to be happy. That’s what he told me.” Adam sat, too, and even with his legs out of the height equation, he was still a foot taller than she was. “Even if it’s with someone else. He loves you.”

  Carrie’s head shook so fast that she got a mouthful of her own hair. “It’s over. I told you that.”

  “I don’t think it is. I saw him look at you.” Adam tilted his head, smiling that sad smile at her again. “And the thing is, Carrie, I saw you looking back.”

  Carrie swallowed, her wave-tumbled stomach doing its best to flip the cake she’d already eaten upside down. She didn’t like that he was right. “It’s just looking.”

  “Is it? I like you, Carrie. A lot. But I don’t want to be with someone who’d rather be with someone else.” Adam climbed to his feet, towering above her like one of the palms that lined the walkway. “Take some time. Let me know what you decide.”

  Carrie slipped her sandals on in slow motion and followed him back to the restaurant valet. Adam drove her home but didn’t walk her to the door. She kissed his cheek before climbing out of his Range Rover. There was something final about the way he said, “Good night.”

  “Thank you.” Carrie left it at that. The sky darkened to a moonless night.

  * * *

  Carrie ignored Lance’s long, lean body stretched out on the floor, stepping over a denim-clad leg in her five-inch heels to reach Oliver’s bedside. He slept soundly, plush octopus under one arm, Beckham next to his hip. His hair was dry, and he smelled of freshly laundered pajamas. She smoothed back his bangs—he needed a trim—and kissed his forehead. He smiled in his sleep, and that somehow made the whole night better.

  Skirting around Lance, she headed to the kitchen for a glass of water. Or maybe pink wine. She’d decide when she got there. Her limbs hung heavy off her body, like the time she’d completed a Pilates boot-camp workout and had been too sore to take off her own shoes that night.

  Her frosted-glass cake plate sat next to the sink with an envelope taped to it. Intrigued, she opened it and read Lance’s scrawled words: Consider this my groveling for the night. More to come. She lifted the lid and found her coconut layer cake cut into small cubes. That he remembered how she prepped her leftover cake for binge-watching TV into the wee hours settled her uncertain stomach enough that she popped a piece in her mouth and reread the note.

  She flipped it over and wrote on the back: Please don’t be here when I wake up. She read her message over and found it to be an honest plea for what she could handle but a tad colder than she wanted. She added one more line: and please eat some cake.

  The next morning when she entered the kitchen to turn on her coffee maker, she was disappointed to find that the cubes of her cake under the frosted dome remained untouched. He’d done as she’d asked, disappearing in the night, so she had only herself to blame for missing him.

  * * *

  Fur Haven Park was not the same, squashed onto the front garden area of the Dorothy. It wasn’t doing much for the curb appeal of the building, either, with the five-foot chain-link fence and motley crew of mutts crowding the area. Beckham didn’t care about any of that. As soon as Carrie turned the stroller onto the Dorothy’s street, his tail started wagging a hundred beats per second.

  Once she opened the gate and unhooked him, he dashed toward his buddies. LouLou, Lady, and Chewy enjoyed a good round of sniffing with him before tearing off to run the perimeter in quick laps.

  “The big-dog, small-dog separation doesn’t seem to be taking.” Carrie pushed the stroller up to where Riley, Eliza, and Sydney stood behind one of the bone-shaped benches.

  They greeted her with smiles and exclamations over Oliver’s cuteness. Nothing put him into a deeper sleep than a long ride in the jogging stroller, so he didn’t wake up. Carrie adjusted the sunshade to better shield him and joined in the conversation about best dog beaches in the area.

  “We should have a website.” Sydney grabbed Riley’s arm in her excitement, the exaggerated bell sleeve of her cropped denim top flapping at the sudden movement. “Think about it. We could archive lots of dog info—best beaches, parks, events. It’d be like an old-fashioned community bulletin board, but online.”

  Eliza patted the sweat off her hairline with a tissue. “Or we could make an old-fashioned bulletin board. Weatherproof, of course. Something sturdier than that.” She nodded at a notice posted on the gate, encased in plastic that was already fraying at the edges.

  Carrie inspected it. “What a great idea, letting everyone know the plans for the new Fur Haven.”

  “Caleb thought of it.” Riley joined her at the gate. “I’ll admit to being super sad that the park Caleb and I built was short-lived, but Adam’s been working with us on the new design, and it’s going to be beautiful.”

  Carrie studied the drawing. It’d become more detailed than the last version she’d seen, more landscaping and dog equipment. The neighborhood was filled in around it, and the projected view of the ocean from the top of the garage looked spectacular. “People are going to come just to watch the sunrise.”

  “I know!” Sydney spun toward the building so quickly the stack of silver bracelets on her arm jingled. “The website could have an activities calendar. We could make the Howling Halloween party an annual event. Add in other festivals. Think, Riley, this could get more people into the Dorothy. Fill up those empty units you’re so worried about.”

  A speculative light dawned in Riley’s eyes. “Sydney, would you call the new Fur Haven a venue?”

  Sydney clapped her hands together, the bell sleeves of her crop top swaying like actual bells. “Yes, a unique venue. For unique events.”

  “Like weddings?” Riley smiled.

  “Oh my God.” Sydney flung her arms around in her in a hug. “Perfect! Getting married in the space that brought you together? What could be more romantic?”

  Carrie felt like an outsider, watching the two women fall into planning together like they did it all the time. Maybe they did. Carrie wouldn’t know. This wasn’t her neighborhood or her building, even if there were times in the last few weeks when it had started to feel like it was.

  “Hey, can I talk to you?”

  Carrie startled at the unexpected voice behind her. Lance leaned on the fence, work boots scuffing the already abused lawn.

  “We’ve got the kid. And the dog.” Riley pushed her out the gate. “Go. You two really need to talk.”

  Oli slept on; Beckham wouldn’t even notice she was gone. “Okay, thanks.”

  “Anything for my soon-to-be nephew.” Riley gave Carrie a sideways, one-armed hug. “I’m serious.”

  Carrie returned the hug, feeling less left out than a few minutes ago, and made her way to Lance.

  “Coffee Spot?” He gestured toward his truck, but she shook her head.

  “I’ve only got a few minutes. Orlov’s suddenly on fire to get Volga’s redecorating done for a big New Year’s Eve party he wants to have.”

  “Let me know when you need me and my guys.” Lance led her to the side of the Dorothy. They could still see Oliver’s stroller but were well out of earshot of the others.

  “I appreciate it.” Carrie took a breath, digging deep for the words she’d practiced in t
he shower this morning. “I think we make a good team, professionally. I hope we can keep working together.”

  Lance’s face shuttered, as battened down as a home before a hurricane hits. “Of course. We’ll be ready to start the Dorothy’s interior in the next few weeks when the first remodeled unit gets finished up.”

  “I know. I’m looking forward to all of that.” She twisted her fingers together in front of her, then freed them one by one. “About last night.”

  “Sorry I fell asleep before you got home.” He scratched at the stubble on his chin, clearly gathering his words. “You didn’t get the full force of the groveling I’d planned. I shouldn’t have gone to South Pointe last night. I’m sorry.”

  “Thank you for that.” She untwisted her fingers, only to find them twisted again. “We’re confusing Oliver.”

  Lance’s eyebrows shot up. “Oliver’s confused?”

  “Yes. We tell him you’re his dad. You come over and stay with him. He wants to know why you don’t live with us.” She skirted the issue, centering the confusion on Oliver. But she and Lance were adults; they should handle their own stuff. It was her job to protect Oliver, to make sure he didn’t have more than he could handle on his emotional plate. “We need boundaries. Professional boundaries.”

  Lance’s cheek muscle twitched, never a good sign. “What kind of boundaries?”

  “I don’t think you should babysit for me anymore.” She held up a hand, cutting off his protests. “Not at my home anyway. The time you spend with Oliver should be on your turf. So he can understand that we have two different lives.”

  “Even if we don’t want to have two different lives?”

  Carrie gave up on her fingers and shoved them through her hair. Only her hair was in a bun, and it came tumbling down at the rough handling. She took a minute to reposition it and gather her own thoughts. She couldn’t let the back-and-forth with Lance impact her decision. Oliver’s needs came first. Her own didn’t matter.

  “We do want that. Work together, parent Oli together, live separately. That’s how it has to work.”

  “Because you said so.”

  His words were sharp enough to cut her. She did feel like she was bleeding a little bit, but better a little now than a lot later. She nodded. Adam was right. She did need to decide what she wanted, and she’d never be able to do that in their current unstable situation.

  “Fine.” He took her favorite word, and that was how she knew it wasn’t fine at all. But it’d have to be.

  “Fine.” She stuck out her hand to shake on it.

  He looked at her outstretched fingers for a full minute before spinning on his heel and walking away.

  Chapter 34

  Carrie walked into Volga and cringed. Chaos was an important part of the redesign process. You couldn’t install the new without taking out the old first, but she didn’t love that part of it. Lance did, though, and she wished for a brief, fierce moment that he was there with her, working on the restaurant project hand in hand with her instead of simply swooping in at the last minute for the water-feature installation. She shook her head as if to dislodge the thought. Just because things were going well with them, professionally and parenting-wise, didn’t mean she should wish for more.

  It’d been almost a month since they’d struck their deal, and Oliver now spent several days a week with Lance. When Grams called to invite her and Oliver to a Christmas Eve party at the Dorothy, she’d declined for herself but let Oliver go with Lance. Her son had a blast, coming home with tales of a visit from Santa and a sack full of toys clearly from his extended Donovan family and not a mythical elf.

  She didn’t begrudge Oliver the extra attention from his newly discovered family, but she did miss when it was just the two of them. A few times, he’d spent the night at Lance’s, a perfect opportunity for her to reactivate her dating apps and dive back in, but she didn’t. Like Adam pointed out, she needed to know what she wanted. Problem was, she was pretty sure what she wanted would end in disaster. Again.

  Instead, she’d spent long evenings on the phone with Farrah, catching up and making plans to see each other as soon as Farrah could get away from work for a long weekend. She’d also taken to hanging out at the temporary Fur Haven park and often grabbed coffee with Riley or Sydney afterward. Sydney’s website was coming along nicely, and so was the parking garage. With Lance taking Oliver so frequently, even her mother was getting a break from so much babysitting and had joined a gym and a book club. Really, all the changes were for the better. She should be happy, and she was. Mostly.

  “I’m not sure this is better.” Dimitri emerged from the kitchen’s swinging doors, both hands held out to her.

  She took them and gave them a squeeze, then dropped her hands to her sides before the gesture became anything more than friendly. She’d seen the look in his eyes a few times from other clients, and she stayed firm in her resolve never to get involved with someone who owed her money. It could be hard enough to collect final payments when things went well. Add in disappointed romantic entanglements, and she’d never be able to pay her mortgage.

  “You shouldn’t be here for this part. Can’t you wait until the big reveal like a normal client?” She got out her camera to shoot some pictures. She liked to document the process. She also liked to keep her hands busy so Dimitri didn’t grab them again.

  “Stay away from my dream? How could you be so cruel?” His smile belied his words.

  “Please.” She gestured for him to follow her. “Let’s take a tour of the destruction, and I’ll fill your head with the glory of what’s to come.”

  Twenty minutes later, she sent a pleased Dimitri on his way. She was deep in conversation with one of the Excalibur guys about how many more days they’d need the construction dumpster. Lance might not be hands-on this whole project, but she wasn’t going to hire anyone else to work with her, either. His crew was easy to deal with, competent and quick. They were a full day ahead of her original schedule.

  She spotted Lance out of the corner of her eye, entering through the front door with rolled plans under one arm. She finished up with the hard hat and hurried away.

  “Carrie?”

  She heard him calling but ducked through the kitchen and out the back door into the alley as if she hadn’t. The door thunked closed behind her, and she leaned against it, breathless.

  “You gonna decorate the alley next?” Knox lifted a bag of debris into the dumpster pushed against the restaurant’s wall. It landed with a loud thunk.

  “No.” Carrie’s laugh was jittery, too high-pitched. “Just needed a minute.”

  “Saw Lance, huh? Guess he’s right that you’ve been avoiding him.” Knox hurled the second of three large bags into the dumpster.

  “No, that’s not true. I see him all the time.” Carrie shifted so all her weight was in the heels of her shoes. It wasn’t great for her Jimmy Choos, but it did relieve pressure off her toes.

  Knox halted, midswing of the third bag, giving her blank face until she cracked.

  “Okay, maybe a bit.” There was that jittery laugh again.

  “Oli’s a good kid.” Knox finished with the bags and slammed the dumpster closed with another loud bang. “Lance adores him. The whole family does.”

  Talking about how amazing her son was? Carrie could do that all day. She relaxed against the door. “I know. I’m glad Oli has all of you.”

  Knox walked to her, not quite limping but not smoothly, either. He rubbed the muscle above his brace, stopping a few feet from her. “I was deployed back when you and Lance got married. And divorced. But I did recently spend nearly two weeks in a very small bathroom with the guy.”

  “Thank you again for that. Kristin’s already asked me to do her kitchen.”

  “That’s great.” Knox pulled the work gloves off his hands and stuffed them in his back pocket. “Not my point, though. Two we
eks, small bathroom, toxic chemicals. A guy talks. At least Lance sure did. And it was all about you.”

  Carrie’s hand flew to the tiny pearl on her necklace. “He did? You must hate me, after what I did to him.”

  “I should.” Knox looked her up and down, assessing. “So should he. But he doesn’t, so I don’t, either. He’s angry, yeah, but mostly he talked about how talented you are, what a great mom. Blah-Blah-amazing-Carrie-blah-blah. There was a lot of sawing. Sometimes I didn’t hear everything.”

  Carrie’s mouth dried out. “Must’ve drowned out all the bad. Knox, there’s a reason we got divorced.”

  “And you’ve got really good reasons to get back together.”

  “I know, Oliver. He loves Lance.”

  “Lord, no.” Knox shuffled his feet. “The kid’s fine. I meant that you love each other.”

  “You don’t know me.” The defense was sharp and automatic, but it slid off Knox like she hadn’t said anything.

  “What’re you afraid of, Carrie?” His face was stoic as ever, but his Donovan blues bored into her.

  “Nothing.” Carrie’s lip trembled at the lie. Her pulse raced in full-on fight-or-flight mode. She didn’t have to answer Knox. She should walk away.

  She didn’t. She swallowed, closed her eyes, and then forced them open again. “Knox, I’ve been terrible to him. No matter what we may or may not feel for each other, the truth is, deep down, I don’t deserve another chance with Lance.”