"Why you've been so busy lately," Olivia managed, forcing a smile. Her chest tightened with anxiety, and she wished that she'd brought Goodwin or Fender with her to give her something to do with her hands. If she kept taking a sip of her beer every time she felt anxious, she'd be drunk before the pizza came out of the oven.
Before their small break, Andrew would never have been on his phone during date night. Now, it was almost like the thing was glued to his hand.
There was an uncomfortable silence that lasted until the oven dinged. Andrew immediately jumped up. "I'll get it. You just sit right there."
As he hurried to the kitchen, Olivia sank back against the cushions and closed her eyes.
This was a disaster. She really needed to just come out and ask him what was wrong. That was the only way that she was going to get any answers.
Listening to him rummage around in the kitchen, she thought back to the time when that had been a comfortable sound. Andrew always got up before she did, and she used to feign sleep and listen to him move about in her home. She'd never admit it, but she loved the sound of him being there.
Taking a deep breath, she opened her mouth to ask him what was going on when something lit up behind the pillow. Moving it, she realized that his phone had dropped out of his pocket.
There was an odd message on the screen with a woman's name and a heart emoji. Olivia's eyes widened as she reached for it, but then it suddenly started to ring. The face of a beautiful blonde filled the screen, and it had the same name as the text message.
Hannah Maclin.
"Is that mine?" Andrew called out as he rushed into the living room. Without meeting Olivia’s gaze, he swooped down and grabbed the phone. Glancing strangely at her, he silenced the ring. "Give me just a second."
"Sure," Olivia said hoarsely. She expected him to go back into the kitchen, but instead, he opened the door to the apartment and stepped out into the hall.
For a full second, Olivia debated. There was absolutely no reason not to trust Andrew. Never, in all their time together, did she ever once think he'd cheat on her—but how could she avoid the signs now? The recent trips to the gym? The late nights out? The mysterious women texting and calling his phone?
Unable to help herself, she got up and crept toward the door. Quietly easing it open, she listened.
"Thursday night at End Game? Seven o'clock. Perfect. I'll see you then."
She scrambled back to her seat, but her whole body had gone numb.
Andrew was seeing someone else.
2
Andrew didn't say anything about the phone call, and Olivia could barely get through dinner. Complaining of a stomachache halfway through, she bolted for her own apartment and tried to work through her tumbling thoughts. Had she and Andrew made a formal commitment to each other? Maybe they hadn't, and he felt like it was his right to date other women.
Did that mean that she could date other guys?
"No," she told herself firmly. Even if they hadn't said the words out loud, the implications were clear. They were in a monogamous relationship. If Andrew was seeing other people, he was cheating.
Besides, there could be a reasonable explanation for Andrew making plans to see another woman. It was probably related to work. Immediately, she relaxed.
Of course. This Hannah Maclin was probably a new hire at work. Andrew always liked to keep things casual.
Except that he'd just said that there was no budget for hiring anyone else.
Maybe he was hiring this person as a helper for Olivia. That thought cheered her up, plus it made a ton of sense. He wanted to spend more time with her, and her last employee had turned out to be a little bit of a psychopath. So maybe Andrew knew this girl needed a job and was going to see if she'd make a good dog walker.
That had to be it. Andrew was such a straight-shooter, nothing else made sense. Olivia suddenly could breathe again, as if a weight had been lifted from her chest. "And it's a secret. A surprise for me," Olivia told Goodwin with a smile. The dog cocked his head and stared at her expectantly, waiting for one of his favorite words to follow. Walk? Treat? Leash? Tug-of-war? "Never mind. Come on. Let's go to bed. That run earlier today really exhausted me."
Goodwin looked at her as if to say all five minutes of it?
"Shut up," she muttered, and heard the dog sigh heavily behind her, then the scramble of his feet as she made her way to the bedroom. Fender had already used his ramp and was curled up in his spot, snoring, feet twitching as he chased a dream.
After jumping up and making three tight turns on the bed, Goodwin curled up next to his smaller buddy with another sigh (but more contented-sounding and less reproachful, to Olivia’s ears), and Olivia fell asleep feeling slightly better. If Andrew was hunting for a new dog walker for her, then it must mean that he wanted to spend more time with her, and maybe all of this awkwardness was just in her head.
The next morning, after getting Goodwin and Fender settled in the daycare area of her office, Olivia trotted down the steps to the front entryway. As she neared the bottom of the stairs, she looked into the bakery and saw Jackie sitting at one of the tables in the customer seating area, staring into the kitchen. Fascination was written all over her face.
Slowing as she reached the bottom, Olivia lifted her eyebrows. "What's going on?"
"Shh. You'll break her concentration," Jackie hissed.
Easing to a stop on the last step, Olivia leaned over the railing and glanced into the kitchen. Janelle had the phone cradled between her ear and her shoulder, and she was whipping her whisk in a bowl faster than anything Olivia had ever seen. Her sister seemed completely oblivious that she had an audience.
Olivia crossed the space from the steps to Jackie’s table practically on tiptoe. "Is she talking to Patrick?" she whispered as she slid into the chair next to Jackie. Lately, her sister and her brother-in-law had been fighting about starting a family. Janelle wanted to wait until things were more settled, but Patrick kept pointing out that things were never settled. Janelle was always pushing things to be bigger and better.
He was right.
"No. She's on hold. From what I can tell, the building commissioner denied her permit to expand the kitchen."
Olivia grimaced. She and Janelle had started butting heads about the expansion a week ago. It would mean huge renovations to the first floor, and it would also take up a good chunk of the back yard. Olivia was loath to give up the space where she let the dogs run and play.
So they'd settled. Janelle would have to cut down on her office space, and the new section of the kitchen would only take up eight feet.
Happy Endings was doing really well, but Janelle wanted to expand into catering. Privately, Olivia thought Janelle was taking on too much at one time, but there was no way she was going to tell her sister that.
"What do you mean, historical accuracy?" Janelle suddenly shrieked. "It's eight lousy feet! I don't think any of the tourists are going to break out their tape measures and complain!"
"What's she talking about?" Jackie whispered.
Olivia leaned toward her. "There's a clause in the contract that we signed. All major renovations have to be approved by the historical society."
"Oh. That's probably why it took so long for me to get a different colored awning. I thought my landlord was just dragging his feet."
Olivia swerved to another subject. "What are you doing here? Are you trying to steal another muffin?" Janelle had practically bitten Jackie's head off when she’d caught her snagging a muffin yesterday morning.
Jackie snorted. "Like you aren't."
"I'm not!" Olivia grinned. "I'm here for the scones.” She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial hiss. “Have you checked? Are they done yet?"
"Are you kidding? In the mood she's in, I wouldn't dare go back in the kitchen!" Jackie paused for a moment and bit her bottom lip. "Did Andrew give you the book?"
"Sure. It was the romantic high point of my evening," Olivia grumbled. "Actually, the whole d
inner was a disaster. He got a phone call from some woman, took it in the hallway, and then made a date with her! I had a small panic attack—until I remembered the book."
Perplexed, Jackie cocked her head. "The book about hiring someone made you feel better that you boyfriend was making a date with another woman?"
"But that's just the thing. It wasn't a date. He made a comment about me spending so much time at work. I bet he's interviewing her as a new hire for me."
Jackie reached across and grabbed Olivia’s hand. "Sweetheart, you know that I love you and Andrew, but why would he buy you a book on hiring someone if he was just going to do it himself?"
Olivia paused. "To throw me off? So when it's a surprise, it really is a surprise?" Jackie didn't even bother to dignify that with a response, and the knot of anxiety returned in her chest. "You think that he's cheating on me?"
"I would never think that Andrew is cheating on you, but maybe he doesn't realize that you guys are actually in a monogamous relationship again. You were just supposed to be easing back into things, weren’t you?” Jackie reared her head back and eyed Olivia thoughtfully. “Have you talked about it?"
"No," Olivia acknowledged. "But I didn't think that we had to."
"I think maybe now you do."
Olivia blew out her breath and sat back in the chair. "Well, what am I supposed to do? Tell him that I eavesdropped on his conversation and don't want him to date anyone?"
Jackie shook her head. "See, that would be admitting that you eavesdropped, which puts you in the wrong. Try again."
"I accidentally bump into him when he's on the date and confront him?"
Jackie narrowed her eyes and her forehead furrowed in thought. "That has merit. It's not the most mature move that you could make, but I say we don't completely discard the idea.” She nodded to herself and added, “Does Andrew work today?"
Olivia nodded. "Yeah, but I think they're doing something to the network after hours, so he's not going in until noon."
Jackie nodded again. "That's perfect. Meet me back here after your lunch walks."
Olivia regarded Jackie suspiciously as her friend stood. "Why? What are you going to do?"
"You're the detective. What do you think we're going to do?" She winked, but then, contentious phone call evidently finished, Janelle rounded the corner, and Jackie squeaked and made a beeline for the door.
"Coward," Olivia muttered and bravely stood to meet her sister.
Physically, they were almost copies of each other. Janelle was a few years older, but they both sported their father’s olive skin and their mother’s green eyes. Olivia wore her dark, thick hair long so she could sweep it up into a pony-tail, but Janelle kept hers short in a cute and flippy style.
Personality-wise, they were definitely two different people. Janelle liked stability. She was usually the grounded one of the two sisters, while Olivia was always moving from one thing to the next. Starting a dog-walking business had been a huge step for her, and buying the brownstone with Janelle had almost driven them apart.
It didn't take Janelle long to figure out exactly what Olivia wanted. "I guess you're here to steal from me too, huh? Well, there will be no more stealing! Not until we can sell the brownstone and move somewhere else! Historical inaccuracy, my . . ."
"Okay." Olivia put a hand on her sister's shoulder and squeezed. "Deep breaths. In and out. In and out. Repeat after me. We're not selling the brownstone because I both work and live here now, and we haven't even been here a year, and you adore this place."
Janelle glared at her. "You really expect me to repeat all of that?"
"No, but I needed you to stop your little tirade. Janelle, you're doing too much, too quickly. We just bought this place. I know that you want to expand into the catering business, but—four more ovens? Really? Why don't you start with what you can fit into the building, which is what? Two more ovens? And go from there?"
"That's not the point," Janelle said frostily. "We own this building. We should be able to do whatever we want to it. I should be able to burn it to the ground if I wanted to!"
"You really need to remember the we part in that sentence because I can assure you, we do not want to burn it to the ground. Now what is really going on here?"
Janelle's face dropped. "Patrick and I had sex last night," she whispered.
Furrowing her brow, Olivia tried to read between the lines. "That's . . . terrible. How dare two married people have sex? Want me to beat him up for you?"
"No," Janelle grumbled as she turned and started to walk away. "It was our date night, and usually our date night is romantic and sweet, but he just kept asking if I thought I was ovulating, and then we had to try this ridiculous position that he read about where I had to lie on the—"
"Over sharing!" Olivia said as she squeezed her eyes shut and put up her hands. "So your romantic night wasn't romantic?"
Janelle leaned against the wall and wailed, "I feel like my body doesn't even belong to me! It belongs to this phantom child that I haven't even conceived yet, and I keep thinking about all the things that I haven't done!" She heaved a sigh. "We've been trying for a month, and nothing has happened. Patrick is getting frustrated, and I haven't even decided how I feel about having this child. Our lives are being consumed by this unborn child!"
Olivia’s problems paled in comparison. She moved to Janelle and hugged her sister. She had wanted to come down and sort her dilemma out with her more levelheaded sister, but Janelle was having her own meltdown. Gently patting Janelle’s back, she said, "A month is not very long when it comes to conceiving, and your emotions are just running a little high. It's going to be okay."
To her surprise, instead of calming down, Janelle burst into tears. "Why does everyone keep saying that to me? Oh my God, are my muffins burning?"
"Okay." Olivia blew out her breath and straightened as Janelle hurried to the back of the kitchen. "Nice chatting with you,” she muttered at the frenzied baker’s retreating back. “I was hoping for some sisterly advice, but I’ll just listen to my far crazier friend. It’ll be fine, I’m sure."
Shaking her head, she went back up the stairs. At least the dogs were emotionally stable.
One hour later, Snowball, the large male Rottweiler that was often dressed in tutus and tiaras thanks to his adorable five-year-old sister, and Tucker, the sheriff's dog, were bounding around the play area with Goodwin. Fender, grumpy old guy that he was, grumbled in the corner and shot them nasty looks whenever their roughhousing got a little too close.
Keeping one eye on them, Olivia tried to take mental notes as she talked on the phone. “Yes, Mr. Leonard, I do have a sink for bathing dogs, but I don’t groom them. It’s just to rinse them off if they get too muddy at the park.”
“What about nail trimming? Hair cutting?”
“I’m not really a salon service. You’ll want a groomer for that.”
“Then what do you do?”
Closing her eyes, Olivia counted to ten. “I walk dogs, sir. I’m a dog walker. I also schedule and oversee a doggie daycare. Sometimes I’m available for overnight service if you go out of town.”
The potential client grumbled to himself and hung up. Olivia hadn’t even gotten a chance to verify that the man actually owned a dog.
The morning went by quickly, and after her noon walk, she found Jackie waiting for her in the office. The bookstore owner raised an eyebrow. “Just you and Goodwin and Fender this afternoon?”
“Yeah, I don’t have any dogs on the books today for afternoon daycare. I can take any reservation calls on my cellphone, so I’m good until the next round of dog walks. What did you have in mind?”
Jackie got up and walked toward Olivia. Though Jackie was a good three inches shorter, she still managed to be intimidating as she stared Olivia down. “If you tell anyone that we did this, I will deny it vehemently, and then I will tell everyone that you cried during E.T.”
Olivia gasped. “I’m sure lots of people cried,” she muttered, but
she knew that Jackie had her. That was the problem with best friends. They knew all your deepest and darkest secrets. “Just what is it we are doing?”
“Got your keys handy?”
“What?” Olivia said, wrinkling her brow even as she dug her key ring out of her pocket. “If you want to borrow my car, no need to make a big deal about it.”
Grabbing Olivia’s hand, Jackie tugged her out of the office and up the stairs. Bewildered, Olivia followed along—until they reached the top of the stairs, and Jackie said, “I assume that you have a key to Andrew’s apartment?”
“Yes,” Olivia said slowly as they stood outside his door. “Jackie, I am not snooping in there.”
“Of course you’re not snooping. You left something very important in there, and you’re looking for it.” Jackie grabbed the keys from Olivia’s hand and winked.
Sighing, Olivia watched as her friend selected the right key and unlocked the door. “You know, when you first started dating Brett, I thought you were the one who might get hurt, but now I think I feel sorry for him for dating you.”
“Shush. Come on.”
“Why are we whispering? We know he’s not home,” but even she didn’t dare raise her voice as they tiptoed in. It felt all kinds of wrong to be checking up on Andrew, but he was the one taking secret meetings out in the hallway.
Their apartments were mirror copies of each other. Each was just one bedroom with a small living area that opened into a dining area set off from the kitchen by a breakfast bar. There was one bathroom that connected with jack-and-jill doors. Olivia’s apartment overlooked Main Street, and Andrew had a view of the small wooded area behind the back yard.
His laptop sat on the coffee table, and Jackie made a beeline for it. “Do you know the password?” she asked as she flipped it open.
Olivia hesitated for a minute before she went over and entered it. There had been a time when Andrew didn’t keep any secrets from her, and when she hadn’t had a computer of her own, he’d let Olivia borrow his all the time.
All Bark and No White Knight Page 2