Truth About Men & Dogs

by Andrea Simonne

  “Come into the office Monday. Drink Virtue is presenting their new flavor fixes to a group of our investors. We could use your input.”

  “Fine, I’ll be there.”

  “Really? Great. I’ll send you the details.”

  I’d agreed to look them over, but it was mostly so Gavin would leave. I already knew I wasn’t going anywhere Monday.

  I picked up another slice of pizza, which had cooled considerably. Maybe I should turn down the air. It feels like a blizzard in here. Instead I leaned back on the couch with a blanket and watched an analysis on the Fed and current interest rates.

  Somewhere in there I must have dozed off. When I woke up, there was drool on my chin, and I heard the sound of someone calling from the main gate.

  I sat up, disoriented. That’s strange. I wiped the spit off my face and checked the time. It was the middle of the night. I grabbed my iPad to see who was at the gate.

  “Let me in, Philip.”

  I stared at him on screen. The black hair and overly tanned skin.

  “What do you want?” I asked.

  “Just let me in.” He smiled, his teeth a garish white. He looked like the headliner for a Las Vegas act. “I’d like to talk to you.”

  I hesitated. Did I really want to deal with this? But then I buzzed him in, realizing a part of me had been waiting for him all along.

  As soon as he entered the doorway, I could tell he’d been drinking. The stench of booze and cologne clung to him like acid rain. He whistled with approval as he took in the house. “Nice place. Bigger than I expected. I like it.”

  It figured that he’d approve of this ridiculous house.

  His brows rose when he followed me upstairs and realized none of it was furnished, that I only lived in a small part. “You’re kind of eccentric, aren’t you? I’m not surprised. You get it from your mother. She’s always had a weird bohemian streak.”

  I had a flash of memory from when I was a kid. Anything out of my father’s wheelhouse was referred to as “bohemian.”

  He followed me into the living room, and I wished I’d picked up. I’d had a maid service, but I’d canceled it, and the place was a mess. I didn’t want him knowing I was in such bad shape.

  He glanced around and didn’t seem to notice the mess. He walked over to one of the French doors and opened them to look outside. “It’s dark out, but I can tell the view isn’t half bad either.”

  “Why are you here? Are you planning to buy the house?” I smirked at my joke. There was no way he could afford this house. Not anymore.

  He turned back to me. “Do you have anything to drink? How about you pour me a glass of whatever you’ve got.”

  I considered him, deciding I could be generous now that I was the one holding all the cards. I went to the kitchen and poured a couple fingers of single malt Scotch into a glass. Then I thought, What the hell, and poured myself the same. After handing him his drink, I took a seat on the couch.

  He continued to wander around the room, examining various objects. “I’ve been thinking things over. Do you know what my biggest mistake was?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder at me.

  I took a sip of scotch, smooth as silk with a hint of wood smoke, and waited.

  He picked up one of the framed photos from the shelf. The one Claire had asked about with my mom, Eliza, and me from years ago. I expected him to tell me his biggest mistake was dumping his family. I hoped that was why he came here, to throw himself at my mercy, to ask me to bail him out.

  I’d enjoy that.

  It might even be enough.

  “My biggest mistake was underestimating you.” He put the photo frame down and walked toward me, took a seat in the nearest chair. “I should have figured you out before I came to see you that day.”

  I studied him. The room lights were set for evening, but it was enough to see how his eyes were bloodshot, how the lines on his face ran deep.

  “I still thought of you as a boy,” he continued. “I hadn’t realized you’d turned into a man, and a formidable one at that.”

  I didn’t say anything.

  “I’m impressed. And I don’t impress easily.”

  I took another swallow of Scotch, irritated. Praise was the last thing I wanted from him. When was he going to ask for money?

  “I shouldn’t have threatened you that day,” he said. “I realize that now. I’ve never responded well to threats either.”

  I tapped my glass with impatience.

  He leaned forward, still holding his drink. “Let me ask you something. Do you have many regrets in life?”

  I already knew why he was asking. He was playing on my sympathies, but it wouldn’t work. My voice hardened. “No, I don’t have any.”

  He nodded. “I figured as much. You’re just like me. Regrets are for the weak-minded.”

  I didn’t want to hear this bullshit. “Did you come here for my help? Is that it? Because I know you’ve been forced into bankruptcy.”

  “No, I came here to congratulate you.”

  Unease settled in the pit of my stomach. “What do you mean?”

  “Just what I said.” He leaned back in his chair. “You’re right, the banks have seized all my assets. There’s even a padlock on the front door of my house.”

  “So why are you congratulating me?”

  “Because you did a hell of a job taking me down, Philip. I know you hate me, and I don’t blame you. But I’m still proud of you.” He smiled. “You did exactly what I would have done.”

  My breath slowed. The room seemed to have grown smaller.

  “And now here we are, father and son. A couple of high rollers who don’t take shit from anybody.” He held his glass up to me in a toast. “Congratulations. It turns out you’re a true North.”

  He finished his drink, then stood up. “You might like to know that I’m leaving the country tomorrow. The vultures have moved in, and they’re welcome to the carcass.” He smirked. “Besides, there are some offshore accounts of mine they won’t be able to get their filthy hands on.”

  He walked out of the room, and a moment later, I heard the front door open and then shut.

  After he left, I didn’t move at all, the large house closing in on me. Every room and window. Every door. All of it as suffocating as that first night my mom, Eliza, and I spent in a homeless shelter. I sat on the couch, trying to control myself, to breathe.

  Then I stood up. An explosion of sound shattered the silence when I hurled my glass at the wall of televisions. Shards rained down as one of the screens splintered.

  I stalked into the kitchen, grabbing more glasses and smashing those too. Next it was the mugs and every single plate I owned. Serving dishes I’d never seen before, bowls I’d never used. The noise was loud, an unnerving racket.

  When I finished with the kitchen, I destroyed every item I could find, grunting and growling like an animal, until eventually the floor was littered with broken glass, splintered wood, plastic—all the remnants of my fury.

  I collapsed into a heap, dripping sweat despite the frigid air conditioning. I thought of all I’d given up. The mistakes I’d made. The people I’d hurt.

  All my talk of justice had amounted to nothing.

  There would never be any justice.

  My throat went tight. When I squeezed my eyes shut, the world was black. My future sprawled before me in darkness. How could I live with myself? How? Was I really so much like him?

  I thought of Claire. That was the worst pain of all. The beautiful life we would have shared. Laughter and those little yellow rain boots splashing along the water. I already knew I’d never love like that again.

  A buzz came from my pocket. Somehow my phone had escaped destruction. I pulled it out, stunned to discover a text from Claire. I was even more stunned when I saw what she’d written.

  Claire: Forgive him. Then forgive yourself.

  I blinked at it, staring in disbelief.

  I put my head down and did something I hadn’t done in
a long time.

  I cried.

  I cried for that helpless thirteen-year-old kid I used to be, and then I cried for all the things that might have been.

  Over the next few days, the fog lifted. I began to feel like myself again, except different. Somehow better. Changed. I’d been carrying that stone around my neck so long, I’d forgotten what it was like to live without it. To be free.

  I knew I had a large problem to solve. Luckily, I was good at solving large problems. And for once, I wanted to be the good guy, the one who rode in on the white horse, the one who thought past improving his bottom line.

  Because no matter what he’d said, I wasn’t like him. I wasn’t my father, and I never would be.

  I told Gavin about it when I went back into work on Monday, right after I went to the Drink Virtue presentation. Happily, their fixes were brilliant. They needed a new production facility, and tooling costs had to be nailed down, but we were moving forward. They decided to put out both a regular and nonalcoholic version of their health drinks. The plan was to get them in every grocery store on the West Coast and expand from there.

  We were sitting in Gavin’s office when I told him what my plans were.

  His brows shot up. “That’s going to cost you. Are you sure about this?”

  I nodded. “I’ve already spoken with the head of legal to figure out the best way to approach it.”

  “The investors will make you pay more than it’s worth.”

  I rubbed my jaw, which still ached. I’d finally had Sam set up a doctor’s appointment for me this afternoon to have it checked out. “I know.”

  He studied me and then grinned. “I never thought I’d see the day. You of all people, purposefully losing money.”

  I shrugged. At some point I’d tell him what happened with my father, but not now.

  “Listen.” I leaned forward. “I also know the perfect place for Drink Virtue’s new production facility.” I told him about the closed bottling factory on the outskirts of Truth Harbor.

  “Damn, that does sound perfect.” He tilted his head. “I wonder what Claire will say when she hears about all this.”

  “I think she’ll be relieved, but that’s not why I’m doing it.”

  “It’s not?”

  “Well, not the whole reason.” In truth, I was doing it partly for Claire, because I loved her and didn’t want to be the destroyer of her hometown.

  “Then why are you?”

  “I’m doing it because it’s the right thing.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  ~ Claire ~

  Everybody was going crazy with the news. The whole town had come alive with it.

  “Have you heard?”

  “You must be so proud of him, Claire!”

  “What a generous man!”

  The land that had been for sale in Truth Harbor was now being given to us all. The town would be its new owner.

  On top of that, a beverage company had begun moving into the old soda bottling factory, and they were planning to hire hundreds of people.

  This was all because of Philip.

  He’d gone from public enemy number one to the town hero.

  I didn’t know what to make of it. From everything I’d heard, he was losing money, and that didn’t sound like Philip.

  “I think donating that property is a magnificent gesture,” Violet said. “Our lawyers are setting up a permanent legal entity to manage it.”

  “Great,” I murmured. I was glad, but also unsure. Was there some angle here I couldn’t see?

  “I have something to talk to you about.” Violet pushed her empty plate out of the way. “Two things really. It’s the reason I asked you here to breakfast this morning.”

  “Oh?” My stomach tightened. Usually when Violet had something to tell me, it wasn’t good.

  Her eyes met mine. “The first one is Ivy’s pregnant. She and Ethan found out a few days ago.”

  She quieted, waiting for my reaction.

  Was that it? I hoped her second thing was as easy as that one, because it was nothing. “Congratulations,” I said and meant it. “You get to be a grandmother.”

  I could tell by her expression that she was pleased. She considered me for a moment. “I was concerned you might not take the news well, but I see I had nothing to worry about.”

  “You’re right, I’m fine with it.” And I truly was okay. Ethan and Ivy could have ten kids for all I cared.

  “Good. I’m glad to hear that.”

  I picked up my glass.

  “My second item to discuss with you is the house.”

  “What about it?” I took a sip from my orange juice.

  “I’ve decided to sell.”

  The juice turned bitter in my mouth. I wanted to spit it out but swallowed instead. “Why?” I asked, though I already knew why.

  “It’s too much for me. Daphne’s taken an apartment in town, and I can’t see any reason for me to live here all alone anymore.”

  “But I’m here.”

  She smiled gently. “Yes, you’re in the carriage house. But I don’t need this much space.” Leaning back, she sighed. “It’s just me, ghosting around these big rooms every night. There are so many memories here, most of them good ones, but still.”

  I knew she was talking about my father, and I could see how staying here might make it hard for her to move on.

  I took a deep breath. “When are you planning to put it on the market?” There was no point in discussing whether I should keep the house and buy her out, since we both knew I couldn’t afford it.

  “Soon. I’ve already spoken to Daphne about listing it. I wanted to tell you before that happens.”

  “Where are you planning to live after it sells?”

  “Probably a condo by the water. Something smaller and closer to town.” She turned to me. “After the sale, you’ll have enough to buy something. Or you could rent for a while.”

  I nodded and smiled for her sake. I felt ill though. I didn’t want strangers living in my home. And I couldn’t even imagine myself happy anywhere else.

  Daphne listed the house right away. She asked me if I’d like to start looking at places, said she could help, but I declined her offer.

  They might have to drag me kicking and screaming out of my little fairy-tale cottage.

  I spent Saturday morning doing yard work. The carriage house probably wouldn’t be mine much longer, but I was going to enjoy it up to the last minute.

  I mowed the small lawn and weeded around the flower beds. A client had given me some pansies, and I was planting them when I heard a car turn down my driveway. Glancing over, I saw it was Sylvia’s SUV. For a second I went into a panic, then realized it was just Eliza again. We’d talked on the phone earlier, and she said she might drop by with some more sketches for my new logo.

  I went back to planting flowers and wondered if she’d spoken to Philip. Everybody kept asking me about him. They all seemed to think we were back together.

  The car door closed, and I was on my hands and knees trying to get the last pansy in the ground when I heard a familiar voice behind me.

  “Hello, my pirate princess.”

  I sucked in my breath and went still before whipping my head around. “Philip?”

  He grinned. “How are you, Claire?”

  My mouth hung open. Then I realized how I must look—kneeling on the ground with my ass sticking up. Embarrassed, I sat back, trying to appear dignified. It wasn’t easy. I was covered in dirt, sweaty with no makeup, my hair pulled back into a messy bun. Of all the times I’d imagined seeing him again, none of those fantasies looked like this.

  He moved closer, and excitement drummed through me. He had on dark jeans and a short-sleeved T-shirt. I had a memory of the way his body felt pressed against mine. Big and solid.

  “It’s good to see you. I’ve missed you, sweetheart.”

  I was ready to tell him I missed him too, but then I remembered how I hadn’t heard from him. “Don’t ‘sweethe
art’ me.” I stood up and brushed the dirt off myself. “Where the heck have you been? Everybody keeps asking me about you, and I have no idea what to tell them.”

  He seemed puzzled. “People have been asking about me?”

  “The whole town is ready to throw you a ticker tape parade for what you’ve done.”

  His confusion cleared, and he seemed embarrassed. “It wasn’t much.”

  “I disagree. It’s wonderful.”

  He only shrugged.

  “Thank you. It means a lot to everybody. I heard you lost money though. Is that true?”

  He moved closer until he was standing right in front of me. “I didn’t come here to talk about money. That’s the last thing I want to talk about.”

  “Then why did you come here?”

  “I think you know.”

  Our eyes stayed on each other. His matched the color of the sky above us, rimmed with those sooty lashes.

  “Have you missed me at all?” he asked, his voice low. “Tell me you’ve missed me.”

  “I might have missed you a little,” I conceded.

  “Is that so?”

  “Maybe.”

  He smiled at me. “Look at you. So pretty as always.” He reached out, and I thought he was going to stroke my cheek, but instead he pulled a weed from my hair.

  I laughed lightly, trying not to be embarrassed. “I’m sure I look a fright.”

  “You’re beautiful. I’ve been dreaming about your face.”

  “You have?”

  He nodded. “Every night. It’s all I can think about.” His gaze dropped lower, a rascally smile on his lips. “And maybe a few other parts of you too.”

  I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t stop the feeling of warmth gliding through me. “I see some things never change.”

  “Not when it comes to the way I feel about you.” He grinned, but then the levity vanished and his expression grew serious. “I’m so sorry, Claire. For all of it. You were right about everything you said to me that night. I’m done with those wolves at my door. I’ve chased them off for good.”

  I didn’t know what had happened or what brought him to this state, but it must have been cataclysmic, because I could see he meant it. “I’m glad to hear that.”