I pause on the street and look him up and down. “Did we practice a dance?”

“No,” he answers. “But I’m a fast learner. Show me the steps.”

“There is no dance, you moron,” I shout, taking out my anxiety on Jason. “Shit, sorry. I don’t mean to yell. I’m nervous.”

Jason grips my shoulder. “It will be fine. We read the texts, and it looks like you’re winning her back.”

Cory nods. “Yeah, man. Things are positive.”

“Ditto,” Lincoln says.

“Okay, are you guys ready? And remember, please don’t embarrass me.”

“We would never.” Jason winks as I open the door to the shelter.

We’re instantly greeted by the smell of fresh paint. I look around the space, not a single dog barking, not a single sound besides the light clacking of a keyboard.

The entire space has been redone, new paint, new moldings, new floor. It’s light and airy, with a more modern vibe. On the wall they have a brand-new logo painted in mint green and black, and there’s a receptionist desk with a new phone system to greet us . . . but with no one to answer.

“Wow, it looks amazing in here,” Cory says, taking it all in. “Dude, it this what our donation did?”

“I have no—”

“It is,” Marcy says, stepping out from her office, a giant smile on her face. “Hello, Maddox. Boys.”

We all wave and say in unison, “Hi, Marcy.”

“I guess I forgot to message you. We’re in day two of renovations. The crew has worked very quickly thankfully, but we have our animals at some posh overnight kennels right now until the paint fumes air out. We used the natural paint, but of course, there’s always fumes, and we wanted to be cautious. The animals will be returning tomorrow though.”

“Oh cool.” Hands in my pockets, I look around the space and say, “It looks great in here, Marcy.”

She glances around as well, happiness easy to spot in her posture and the way her eyes light up. “You know, I started this non-profit ten years ago. I started it from my home, taking in animals from those who were terminally ill. When we finally got a space, I always said I’d fix it up, but the more years went by, the more that idea dwindled and even though I hate to admit it, people do judge a book by its cover. I think the way we present ourselves matters. A welcoming reception area, state-of-the-art kennels . . . it gives off a positive vibe I’ve always wanted for the space. It sheds a bright light on these beautiful animals.” She clasps her hands together. “And I have Kinsley to thank, as she brought in all of this, not just your donations, but others as well. She’s portrayed these animals as joyful rather than depressed. She’s made a huge shift for this shelter, and I couldn’t be more grateful to have her on staff.”

Pride puffs my chest. My girl is something special. Then again, I knew that from the start.

“She’s pretty amazing,” I say.

“She is.”

I glance over at her office. “Is she . . . here?”

Marcy shakes her head and my hope to see her today completely diminishes. Fuck. “She’s at home. I gave her the day off.”

“Sure, yeah, that makes sense.” I glance back at the boys and then ask, “Do you need our help with anything?”

“I do actually. Kinsley forgot the medicine for Taco, one of the Chihuahuas she’s been watching. She asked me to take it over when I stop by for lunch, but I have some things to finish up. Think you can take it to her?”

I eye her, seeing right through her guise and in this moment, I don’t think I could love Marcy more. “Yeah, of course. I don’t know her address though.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll give you all the information you need.”

After a quick tour of the new things in the office—my favorite thing being the picture I drew for Kinsley of her and Herman, framed and hung up—Marcy hands me the medication and the information I need to find my girl and we leave with a parting hug.

Outside the shelter, Jason asks, “Dude, this is your moment. Quick, let’s come up with a dance routine and a song you can sing her. Something with a little pop to it.”

“We are not singing a song.” I look at the address, still in disbelief that I know where she is. “I’m going on my own.”

“Are you going to make a grand gesture?” Cory asks. “Do the big I’m sorry?”

Three pairs of eyes meet mine and I shrug. “Not sure. We’ll see.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

KINSLEY

Marcy: Be over in a few. Did the food come?

I read Marcy’s text and look at the brown bag of food.

Kinsley: It did. It smells divine.

I open up the bag and put the food on the table, keeping everything in its respective containers so they don’t get cold. I finish up, just as there’s a knock at the door.

Taco and Bella sound off from their beds, but don’t move and after three barks, they’re already about done and lying back down. Herman couldn’t care less that someone’s at the door.

What great guard dogs.

I open the door while saying, “You’re lucky I didn’t eat—” but my words die off when I see Maddox standing on the other side of the door, wearing a plain white shirt, his signature black jeans, and his hair styled in his signature messy way to the side.

Jesus, hold my heart. I don’t think it can take it.

“Hey,” he says softly, and instantly my legs draw together from the soothing tone of his voice.

“Maddox, What, uh . . . what are you doing here?”

He holds up a box of medication. “Marcy couldn’t make it, so she sent me.”

Oh Marcy, I’m beginning to think she’s a hopeless romantic.

I take the medication. “Thank you for bringing it by. I could have gone down to get it, you didn’t have to make the trip.”

“I was there to volunteer, I didn’t mind. The place looks great, by the way.”

“It does. We’re very excited about it.”

We stand there, staring at each other, an awkward air starting to build.

“Well, I guess I’ll head out.” He takes a step back, and this weird sensation hits me.

With that one step, fear pricks at the back of my neck, fear that if I don’t invite him in, I might not see him again.

“Want to come in?” I ask quickly. “I’m sure Herman would like to say hi, and I have all this food to eat that Marcy ordered.” I stare at the ground. “I wouldn’t mind the company.”

When I glance up at him, he nods. “I’d love to.”

I step to the side and let him in, quietly shutting the door behind him. I watch him take in the moderate space and when he spots Herman, he squats down and pats his leg. “Hey old man.” Herman perks up and hobbles over to Maddox, resting his heavy head in Maddox’s hands. “This collar looks good on you.” Maddox scratches Herman’s ears and then presses a kiss to the top of his head.

I turn away so I don’t lose it emotionally. It’s hard enough being in the same space as him, but seeing Maddox love on Herman, that’s my undoing.

“Can I get you anything to drink?” I ask, pulling two cups from the cupboard.

“Water’s fine.” I feel him walk into the kitchen and when I turn toward him, he’s leaning against the wall, his eyes scanning my body, heating me from the inside out. “Want me to grab some plates?”

“Uh, I got them.” I hand him the glasses of water. “You can take these to the table.”

He does that and while I grab the plates, I take calming, steady breaths. I can do this.

I don’t know exactly what “this” is, but I can do this.

I take plates and silverware to the table and take a seat. Instead of sitting across from me, Maddox sits next to me at the square table.

“It’s, uh, Indian and all vegan. I hope that’s okay.”

“It’s great.”

I pick up the first to-go container and start putting scoops of food on my plate, only to pass them over to Maddox. In silence, we fill our plates, working together, acting far too polite that it makes things more awkward.

Our forks clank against our plates as we dig in. The dogs are lying together on their beds, and since the sliding glass door is open that leads to the balcony, there’s a light breeze swirling around us, carrying the smell of food in circles.

We’re both halfway through our plates before we say anything and when we do, it’s me who breaks first. “I’ve been wanting to try this restaurant for a while.”

“It’s good,” Maddox says, taking down another swig of water, only to get up and refill his glass. I know he’s lying, because he’s washing away the food way too quickly after he takes a bite. But it’s cute that he’s trying.

“Is that why you keep drinking water after every bite?”

He looks down at his food and pushes some tofu masala to the side and says, “The rice was good and the coconut chickpeas.”

“Not a fan of the masala?”

“It’s different.” He chuckles and takes down another large gulp of water.

“You don’t have to finish it.”

He lets out a long breath and leans back in his chair. “Thank you.”

He lulls his head to the side and keeps his eyes trained on me. It’s both intimidating and thrilling.

I take my last bite and then wipe my face with my napkin. I lean back in my chair as well and drink my water, only for him to start chuckling.