“I know. You’re welcome.”
We leave the car parked in front of my building. Violet stops at the front desk to ask about the bag Amber apparently sent. They’ve had it since yesterday morning. She asks Travis, the front desk guy, to throw it in the back of the Torino.
I thank him and follow Vi to the elevators. She checks her messages as we head for the penthouse floor. “Great. Now Sunny isn’t answering my texts. I hope you haven’t screwed this up permanently.”
She crosses her arms over her chest. She’s pissed. Really pissed. Probably the angriest she’s ever been with me. I send Sunny a message, but I get nothing back.
My condo is spotless. I don’t keep it that way; I pay someone else to do it for me. I head straight for my bedroom. The bag I packed two days ago at Amber’s insistence is in my closet. Inside the front pocket are my passport and travel documents, including printed directions from the airport to Sunny’s parents’ house in Guelph. There are also directions to the camp, which is farther north.
Since it’s an international flight, I can’t mess around. It’s already six. I’m not taking any chances. With my luck, there’ll be a fifty-car pileup on the freeway.
When I come out of my bedroom, Violet’s standing in the middle of my living room, frowning at her phone.
“I’m ready.”
She looks up and arches a brow. “Oh, really?”
“I told you it would only take a minute.”
“You don’t think you should clean yourself up? Maybe take a quick shower? Put a shirt on? Or does that covering of fur count as clothing in your mind?”
I drop the bag on the floor. “Look, I get you’re pissed at me. No one is more pissed than I am, but seriously, I already know I’m a fucking idiot. Okay?” I stomp back in the direction of the bathroom.
“Buck.”
“What?”
“I’m sorry. I know you’re not an idiot. I wouldn’t say things like that if I believed it was true.”
I run a hand through my hair. It feels gross. “I know I fucked up. It’s clearly what I do best. I need your help right now, and that includes not making me feel worse than I already do, ’kay?”
“Sure. Got it. Do your thing.”
Fifteen minutes later I’m showered. If I had enough time I’d do a full-body trim, but it’s a lengthy process. I throw my trimmer and a couple of razors in a bag so I can handle that situation later—when I’m not at risk of being late for another flight.
I check out the bag of gifts for Sunny on our way to the airport. It’s half an hour from my condo without traffic, and the roads are clear, so we make good time. Amber did a great job picking things out from the list I gave her. Everything is holistic and organic cotton, and no animals were harmed in their making.
Violet pulls up to the curb and gets out to give me a hug. “I’m always on your side, Buck. You know that right?”
“I know.”
“Just remember that Alex is always going to be on Sunny’s, so if you can’t figure out what you want, you need to stop chasing her like she’s some bunny you want to catch.”
“She’s not a bunny.”
“Exactly.”
I must wear a blank expression, because she sighs and looks up at the sky. Actually, she looks up at the roof of the overhang.
“If you want to have a relationship, you have to make compromises.”
“Gotcha.” I don’t really, but it’s seven, and I don’t want to be late for my flight.
“Send me a message when you get there.”
“’Kay.”
I watch her drive away in Waters’ car and wonder what compromises she’s been making for him, and what Sunny will have to give up to be with me. If she still wants to.
CHAPTER FIVE
WINGBACK CHAIR MEMORIES
Though I do manage not to miss my flight on the second attempt, it’s two-thirty in the morning by the time I finally make it to Sunny’s house. I should’ve been here more than two hours ago. There was construction on the highway, and the GPS cut out while I was on a detour. I accidently put the wrong address back into it, and I’d gone forty kilometers in the wrong direction by the time I noticed. The open field of cows was a dead giveaway I’d missed a turn somewhere.
I grab my duffle bag from the front seat, exhausted. I still have to deal with the fallout from today. The more I think about it, the more I recognize that the pictures from last night and today don’t look good, especially taken out of context. The one of me naked with Flash Beaver is the worst of them. I’m not known for being the kind of guy who sticks with one girl. It still sucks that no one believes I can manage an actual relationship.
The motion sensor kicks in as I get out of the car, flooding the driveway with light, and nearly blinding me. Sunny’s tiny, ugly eco car is parked in front of my rented SUV. She left it at an angle, and the front passenger-side tire is in the garden, crushing her mom’s flowers.
I shoulder my bag, lock up my rental, and hit the doorbell. Anxious barking accompanies the clip of nails on the stairs. Titus, a Papillion, and Andromeda—Andy for short—are Sunny’s dogs. They’re both rescues with serious anxiety issues. Titus likes to lick people’s toes, and Sunny doesn’t seem to mind. It’s weird.
Andy’s a Dane, so I can see him through the curtain covering the front window. He paces back and forth, whining. I have treats in the car for him. I run back to the SUV and grab the bag with all the gifts. Fishing out the gourmet dog biscuits, I slip one through the mail slot. Andy snarfs it down and then pokes his nose back through, looking for more.