18
On the day of Patrick’s college graduation, Michael told me he was taking me somewhere.
It was a small, quiet park on the outskirts of the city.
I remembered this place. It used to be a patch of wasteland.
“Why did you bring me here?” I asked, confused.
“Over a decade ago, I was here visiting Patrick’s mother’s grave when I saw someone driving a little VW Bee- tle like they were in a Fast & Furious movie.”
“I’d never seen a car that small go that fast. I was curious, so I watched.”
I had been chasing after a scummy breeder that day, my foot glued to the accelerator. My poor Beetle ended
up totaled.
Half of Buddy’s twelve-thousand-dollar value was tied up in that car.
“I saw this big, tough-looking woman get out of the car. I was about to go over and help, but then I watched her absolutely demolish the other guy. After that, every day on my way home from work, I’d see her chasing that same, scrawny-looking Golden Retriever down the street.”
Back then, Buddy would do anything for a soup bone from the lamb stew stall. He could be two blocks away
in the blink of an eye.
Michael said, “I figured anyone who would wreck their car for a dog couldn’t be a bad person.”
I snorted. “What if I loved dogs but hated kids? Patrick was a scrawny little thing. He wouldn’t have stood a
chance against me.”
He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and laughed. “I had faith in you. That’s why I deliberately went to
that matchmaking event to find your mom.
So, he had his eye on me all along. And here I thought it was my lust for his handsome face that had sealed
the deal.
