New York, Actually

by Sarah Morgan

  “Even though you don’t have one.” Mark dissected the risotto with his fork, examining the texture, apparently satisfied. “Does your hot guy in the park know about your secret identity?”

  Molly felt a rush of alarm. “No! Of course not. I’m Molly.”

  “So he doesn’t know about Aggie?”

  “No one knows I’m Aggie apart from you, my dad and my publisher. And it’s staying that way.”

  “You should be proud of your success.”

  “I am. But these days I separate my work life from my personal life.” Molly glanced at Valentine and Gabe followed her gaze.

  “He’s cute. Shame humans can’t marry dogs. He’s a keeper.”

  Molly nodded. “Even Mrs. Winchester loves him and she isn’t easy to please.”

  Gabe topped up their glasses. “Speaking of Mrs. Winchester, I saw her a moment ago. Her hearing aid has been fixed, so no dirty talking in the stairwell.”

  “She shouts when her hearing aid isn’t working.” Mark drained his glass. “Hopefully now she might stop yelling, ‘you’re that nice gay man who lives upstairs,’ every time I meet her.”

  “I get ‘at your age I was married,’” Molly said. “That’s one of my favorites.” She took a mouthful of champagne, enjoying the fizz and the warmth that spread slowly through her veins. “There is nothing better than drinking champagne with friends. It makes every day a celebration.”

  Gabe stared at her. “That’s it!”

  “That’s what?”

  “Champagne—makes every day a celebration.” He leaned back, his chair rocking precariously as he grabbed a pen from the side and a piece of paper, which happened to be an advertisement for pizza delivery. “I need to write that down before I forget it. Shit, Molly, you’re a total genius.”

  Mark rolled his eyes. “Language. Mrs. Winchester can tolerate dog hair and the fact that we’re gay, but if she hears you swearing you’re out of here.”

  Molly frowned. “Shouldn’t champagne be saved for special occasions?”

  “If people save it for special occasions, the company doesn’t sell as much and won’t increase their profits. This way, people drink it all the time and I get a big, fat bonus.” Dropping his pen, Gabe raised his glass. “To friends. And to Mrs. Winchester’s hearing aid, which will hopefully last longer than the previous one.”

  Seven

  The day started with a dark threatening sky, but Daniel didn’t alter his plans. The day before, he and Molly had spent half an hour discussing their favorite places in New York, while Brutus and Valentine had romped in the grass together. True, she still hadn’t said yes to his invitation to dinner, but he sensed that pretty soon she would. Of course, finding a time was a challenge. The woman might not be dating much, but she certainly wasn’t sitting around.

  Harriet handed over Brutus. “Do not be late today. Someone is coming to meet him. Don’t take him through any puddles. I need him to look his best.”

  “You’re running a dog-dating agency?”

  “He’s a rescue, Daniel. I’ve been fostering him because the shelter was overloaded, but ultimately our goal is always to find every abandoned dog a new home. Poppy went last week.”

  “Who is Poppy?”

  “The golden Lab you met last month.”

  It hadn’t occurred to him that Brutus wouldn’t be with his sisters permanently.

  Daniel glanced down at the dog who had been his daily companion for the past few weeks. Brutus wagged his tail and nudged Daniel’s thigh with his nose, eager to start their walk. “I assumed he’d stay here with you.”

  “With all the animals I foster there isn’t room for another permanent inhabitant.”

  Daniel wondered if the dog knew he was about to go and live with a bunch of strangers. “He’s a very intelligent dog. You can’t let him go to just anyone.”

  “We won’t. The shelter carries out extensive background checks on anyone who wants to adopt. They take it very seriously.”

  “How can they when they haven’t spent time with him? It isn’t only about the suitability of the environment—it’s about the person. It needs to be someone who understands that he’s a real dog. He’s not going to be happy with someone who ties pink bows around his neck and calls him Ruffles.”

  Harriet glanced down at Brutus. “What do you think? Do you see yourself in a pink bow, Ruffles?”

  The dog wagged his tail.

  Daniel glowered at her. “It’s the tone you’re using. He thinks you’re offering him a juicy bone.”

  “He likes hearing his name.”

  “I can tell you that animal is a lot happier now than he was when his name was Ruffles. I rescued him from a major identity crisis.”

  Harriet looked at him cautiously. “Why do you care so much? It isn’t like you to become attached to anything.”

  “I’m not attached to him.” Or was he? “The dog has already had one bad experience. He shouldn’t have to go through that again.”

  “No one wants a rescue dog to have another bad experience. They run extensive checks which take time, so don’t worry. You’ll be able to use him for your ‘dog dating’ for a little longer. I presume that’s why you’re worried?”

  “That’s probably it.” He dragged his gaze from Brutus’s trusting eyes. “What sort of checks do they do? How do they know a person isn’t putting on an act to get a dog and then they’re nasty once the dog is theirs?”

  “The team members are experienced. They’re good at spotting fakes. Often the people they select have already been dog owners in the past.” Harriet studied him. “You’ve grown fond of him, haven’t you?”

  “What?” The thought brought on a ripple of panic. “No. He’s a dog!”

  “Dogs are easy to love.”

  “I don’t love him, but I admit he’s been pretty useful. And he’s a real character. I wouldn’t want him to go to someone who didn’t understand him.”

  The gleam in his sister’s eyes made him wonder if he’d said something funny. “He certainly knows you. He barks when he hears you at the door. And look, he’s wagging his tail.”

  “I could be anyone.” Not in a million years would Daniel admit that he was starting to enjoy his morning walks with the dog. Brutus nudged him and Daniel lowered his hand and stroked the dog’s head. “Are you ready, boy? Shall we go and see what the park has to offer us this morning?”

  “Is the woman still showing up every morning? You should ask her out, Daniel. Before Brutus gets rehomed and you don’t have an excuse to walk there anymore.”

  “I’ll take a different dog.” He saw Brutus turn his head. “Stop looking at me like that. You’re making me feel guilty. You’re supposed to be my wingman.”

  “Wingdog.” Harriet giggled. “You can’t show up with a different dog. That would be weird. Unless you’ve told her the dog doesn’t in fact belong to you?”

  “No.” And he knew he should. It was starting to bother him that he hadn’t. The more time he spent with her, the more he liked Molly. Not that he’d ever told her Brutus was his. Not in so many words, but he knew she’d probably made that assumption. He made a point of never allowing his life to become complicated, but suddenly it was complicated. It was time to tell her the truth. “I thought I’d get talking to her the first time I walked Brutus. I figured she’d say yes to a date on the second walk. I didn’t think I’d still be doing this. Maybe Fliss is right and she isn’t interested.”

  “She’s interested. There are no shortage of places to walk a dog in New York City, Daniel. If she wanted to avoid you, she could do it easily.”

  “Then why hasn’t she accepted my offer of dinner?”

  “Because saying yes to dating a guy you met in the park is a big step. You could be a creepy stalker.”

  Fliss walked past, a slice of burned toast in one hand and a coffee in the other. “He borrowed a dog to chat up a girl. He is a creepy stalker.”

  Harriet ignored her. “A walk is easy. You don’t have to ma
ke a decision. You simply do it. Dinner is—” She paused, thinking. “Dinner is a commitment.”

  “Dinner is not a commitment when the invitation comes from me. I’m inviting her to eat with me, that’s all. Share a meal, not a life.”

  “It’s still a step.”

  “A step?”

  “Yes. Your woman is probably nervous.” The wistful note in Harriet’s voice made him think it was a step she’d love to take herself.

  “She’s not my woman.”

  “Well, you’d better get her to that point soon, before you no longer have Brutus to walk.”

  * * *

  He and Brutus arrived at the park at the same time as Molly. Valentine immediately bounded toward Brutus, ecstatic to see his friend.

  Molly felt like doing the same. Seeing Daniel again gave her a tiny jolt of shock. The image of him was burned into her brain, and yet in person he seemed bigger, sexier, more of a threat to her emotional equilibrium. A strange lethargy spread through her limbs and she sat down on what she’d come to think of as their bench. Would he ask her to dinner again? Would she accept?

  She had no idea. Her mind was a mess.

  “Did you know there are around 9,000 benches in Central Park?” She was babbling, but talking was the only way she could break the sudden seam of tension. “I love the dedication plaques. Every bench tells its own story. Look—” She twisted in her seat so that she could read. “To the love of my life, on our wedding day. That’s optimistic, don’t you think? Putting that on a bench is permanent. People are going to carry on reading it forever, so you have to mean what you say. Do you ever wonder about the people behind the inscription?”

  “Not until now.” Daniel sat down next to her and handed her a cup of Earl Grey. “If we had a plaque, it would say my dog loves your dog.”

  She could feel his leg brushing against hers. The pressure was light, and yet she could feel the hard length of his thigh.

  Unsettled by the sudden thrill of sensation, she leaned over and made a fuss over Brutus. “I used to be a bit wary around German shepherds, and he is such a big, macho dog, but he has such a kind nature. I love him.”

  “Have you ever considered getting another dog?”

  “Why? Are you selling Brutus?” She was joking, but something in his eyes made her think she might have wandered onto sensitive ground. “I was kidding. I can see the attachment between you.”

  “You can?”

  “Of course. You always look so happy when you’re with him. I feel the same way about Valentine. No matter how bad your day is, it’s pretty hard to be miserable when you have a dog. They cheer you up.”

  “That’s true.” He looked surprised, as if it was something that hadn’t occurred to him before.

  “And then there’s the fact that you play these weird games that no one else has ever heard of, like Don’t Chase the Stick.”

  “That’s weird?”

  “Yes, because most people want their dogs to chase the stick. That’s the game.”

  “I’m teaching him self-control. And he seems to like it.”

  “He likes the praise. It’s cute. When I first saw you, I couldn’t believe you were a dog person. You didn’t seem the type.”

  He hesitated. “I like dogs.”

  “Obviously, or you wouldn’t have Brutus.” And there was something achingly sexy about the way this strong, powerful man handled his dog with such patient, gentle humor. “What happens to him when you’re working?”

  “My sisters look after him.” There was a pause. “Molly, listen—”

  She felt a flash of breathless panic.

  “You’ve never told me much about what you do. All I know is that you’re a divorce attorney.” She spoke before he had a chance to ask her to dinner again, not because she was afraid to refuse him, but because she was afraid that this time she might accept. And accepting would lead to hurt and a possible threat to the life she’d built for herself.

  He glanced at her. “Judging from your expression, you don’t love divorce attorneys. How did my kind wrong you?”

  “I’ve never had any involvement with divorce attorneys, but it’s true that generally I think divorce is a horrible thing.”

  “I would agree with you.” He took a sip of coffee, taking his time. “Which is why a good lawyer can make all the difference. And if there’s one thing more horrible than divorce, it’s being trapped in a horrible marriage. The horrible part generally starts long before I’m involved. I try not to escalate the situation.”

  Whatever her thoughts on the subject, she was sure he was a very, very good lawyer. “You don’t find it depressing? Working with people at the end of their relationship the whole time?”

  “Sometimes. And sometimes it’s satisfying, helping someone extract themselves from a situation they find intolerable. Either way, I try and maintain an emotional distance.”

  Could someone be that close to another person’s distress and not absorb at least some of it?

  “Divorce is so final. Don’t you think it would be better if people tried to mend things before they went seriously wrong? It’s like ignoring a hole in a sweater.”

  “What if the sweater didn’t fit properly in the first place?” He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. “Sometimes people can fix what’s wrong, and sometimes they can’t. If they can’t, then maybe they can part amicably, but sometimes that isn’t possible and they need to lawyer up. That’s my professional opinion.”

  “You don’t feel bad about it?”

  “About being good at my job? No. The truth is that sometimes marriage is nothing more than a big mistake and you have to cut your losses and get out.” His words slid deep into a sensitive part of her she usually kept protected.

  Was that what her mother had done?

  Had she seen her husband and her only daughter as a big mistake?

  She swallowed. “How do you know you’re not breaking something that could possibly be fixed?”

  “By the time people walk in through my door, what they have is already broken. I show them how to move forward with the least damage.”

  “What if there are children involved?”

  The change in his expression was so brief she would have missed it if she hadn’t been staring right at him.

  “You’re one of those people who think parents should stay together no matter what? You think that’s a good thing?” To someone less obsessed with studying people, he would have seemed relaxed. But she noticed the small signs of tension. And that tension told her that his attitude was colored by something more than professional interest.

  “I’m one of those people who think if two people loved each other enough to get married, they should at least try and rediscover some of those feelings they had at the beginning. I think sometimes people give up too easily.”

  “Is that a professional observation or a personal one?”

  “Professional.” She paused. “And maybe a little personal.”

  “A little? Did your parents divorce?”

  “My mother left when I was eight. I’ve put it behind me, but I suppose I’m still a little sensitive about that particular topic.” She had no idea why she’d told him something so private. It wasn’t something she usually talked about, certainly not with someone she barely knew. She felt embarrassed, as if she’d removed her clothing in front of him, but he didn’t seem at all uncomfortable or disconcerted.

  Instead he reacted as if exchanging confidences was something they did regularly. “How’s your relationship with her now? Is it awkward when you see her?”

  “I don’t have a relationship with her, so no, it’s not awkward.”

  “You don’t see her?”

  “She thought a clean break was easier for everyone.”

  “And was it?”

  Molly lowered her cup. She’d told him this much, there didn’t seem much point in stopping now. “At the time, no. It was hard. It isn’t easy to cope with the knowledge that your own mo
ther doesn’t want you in her life in any shape or form. But as I grew older I realized that it probably was easier this way.”

  “Because having her come in and out of your life would have been like having a wound reopened time and time again.”

  “Something like that.” She felt the warmth of the cup through her hands. “Mostly because I don’t think my dad would have been able to deal with it.”

  “He took it badly?”

  “Very badly.” She didn’t elaborate. She didn’t tell him there had been days when she’d been afraid to go to school and leave her father alone, and other days when she’d dreaded coming home, afraid of what she might find. “We had a rough year, and then one day I came home and smelled burning and that was when I knew things were going to be okay.”

  “Burning the house down was a good sign?”

  She laughed. “No, but the fact that he was cooking was a good sign. After that, things gradually improved, although it was a while before my dad found the courage to date anyone again. That was the hardest part. He couldn’t see his own worth. He hadn’t been enough for her, and he took it to mean he’d never be enough for anyone.”

  Daniel watched as two squirrels chased each other across the grass. “That explains why you’re wary of relationships.”

  “It’s part of it, but not all of it. The real reason is simpler. I’m not good at them.” She thought about how her relationships always ended. Not cleanly, but messily. Pain. Anguish. “How about you? You spend your day seeing relationships that are all screwed up and wrong. Must make it hard to believe one could ever be right.”

  “It certainly makes me careful.”

  She blew on her tea, wondering why talking to him felt so comfortable and natural. “So why did you choose to become a divorce lawyer? Why not criminal law or corporate law?”

  He leaned down, his fingers closing over a stick. “I became a divorce lawyer because I grew up with parents who should not have stayed together. I would have given a lot for someone to help them untangle their marriage. Instead I learned firsthand what it’s like to grow up with parents who don’t like each other.” He threw the stick in a graceful arc and made Brutus wait before finally giving him the command to fetch it.