2
My daughter, Buddy, is a Golden Retriever I rescued from a back-alley breeder.
I spent twelve thousand dollars on his surgeries, which led to a six-month cold war with my ex-husband, followed by our divorce.
Michael stared at me, dumbfounded, for a solid three seconds. The tension in his shoulders visibly melted the moment I showed him a picture of Buddy on my phone.
Aside from my commitment to Buddy, Michael knew the basics about me. Thirty, a freelance writer who basically lives like a hermit, pulling in a modest income that my ex found embarrassing. Since the divorce, I d been living with my parents, and my mom never let me forget it.
‘So… can I get your number? We could, you know, keep talking.”
was satisfied with Michael. He needed a wife to take care of his son, and I needed his income to suppor
ny stay-at-home lifestyle.
Plus, I’m a total sucker for a pretty face.
After we exchanged numbers, I immediately sent him my half of the bill for the coffee.
Michael glanced at the payment notification on his phone, his brow furrowing. “If… if you think I’m decent
enough,” he began, hesitating, “maybe I could introduce you to my son sometime?”
‘He’s really not… off all the time. When he’s quiet, he’s actually pretty adorable.”
didn’t say anything.
He took a deep breath, playing his final card. “I’m serious about you. If you’re willing, I’ll give you a fifty-thou- sand-dollar nest egg to start our life, and my paycheck is yours and your daughter’s every month.”
“How about tomorrow, then?” I said. “I have to take Buddy to the vet for a check-up. They can meet afterwa-
rd.”
We set a time. I picked up my dog from the groomer’s, went home, and gave my mom the short version.
I still couldn’t understand why Michael tensed up every time he mentioned his son. A five-year-old boy… even if he was a bit of a handful, how “not right” could he be?
“Mom, have you ever met his son?”
Chapter
My mom scratched her head. “Oh, sure. He seemed like a nice boy. Looks just like his dad, sweet-faced. Just… quiet. Doesn’t really engage with anyone.”
“He’s five,” she added with a shrug. “What are you so afraid of? It’s not like he can burn the house down.”
