BOONE - Part 1 of the HMB Doggie Series
Chapter 18

CHAPTER 18

My “lightbulb moment” was five days ago and I haven’t found the courage to contact John. I want to, desperately, but I’m chicken-shit and lily-livered and cowardly and every other euphemism you can come up with.

So instead I’ve spent these five days working furiously to finish up my sequel to I’s Good Dog. I figure I owe Boone that much. And maybe I could use it as a peace offering when I apologize to John for being a yellow-belly.

Last night I spent the night telling Megan and James about what happened and to say they were shocked is grossly underplaying their reactions. And I was surprised at how relieved they were when I got the words out for a second time: “I think I’m ready to move on.” Megan started cheering like the former cheerleader she was and James gave me a bear hug to end all bear hugs. Then he gave me a beer. Typical.

I have my computer on my lap. I’m rereading the last chapter to make sure it’s pristine before I send it off to John. This will be the first book he will read before Megan does. It feels appropriate.

I’m dragging my feet on sending this email because I know it will instigate some kind of communication and I’m worried about being a wuss again.

I glance over at Boone, “Do you think I’m a wuss?”

He yawns, “Yes.”

“Gee, thanks buddy,” I say sarcastically.

“I’s still love you though.”

“What if he rejects me? What if he rejects the book?”

“He’s won’t. John smart man. Know what he’s wants.”

“Is he still lonely, Boone?” I don’t know why I ask this.

“Lonely, yes. Longing more.” Boone smiles at me, “He like us.”

It’s enough for me. I take a fortifying breath and open a new email:

“Dear John,

I’m sorry for the other night. Sometimes I don’t handle situations all that well. I’m getting better though, thanks to you. And Boone :)

I have two peace offerings for you. One is I’s Good Dog, The Sequel. I finished it today. It’s attached to the bottom of this email.

The other is my real answer to your question: Yes.

Please forgive me.

Sincerely,

S

I attach the document and hit send before I talk myself out of it. Then I close my laptop.

“Want to go for a walk, Boone? I need to smell some flowers.”

~~~

Since it’s Friday night, I decide some pizza and a sitcom binge of some kind are seriously in order. I’ve checked my email every hour on the hour and still no word from John. Nor has he called or texted. It’s time to eat my feelings.

I change into my baggy sweats and baggy sweatshirt, my “drowned rat uniform” as I’ve lovingly started to call it.

I light a fire after I hang up with the pizza parlor. In 35 minutes I’ll be able to loose myself to cheese and pepperoni and some good old fashioned Friends. In the meantime I pop the cork out of a red wine I’ve been holding onto for a few years, a zinfandel that was given to me by Matt after we completed the movie. The cork smells divine. I grab a large goblet wineglass and pull out the aerator. Something tells me this wine will need it.

I pour a glass and take a delicate first sip. Talk about a taste explosion. So. Good.

Glass in hand, I snuggle down on the couch with Boone.

I’m reaching for the remote when the doorbell dings.

“It can’t be the pizza, can it?” I ask Boone.

For once, he doesn’t respond. He only smiles.

A knot forms in my stomach and it takes all my willpower to not run to the door, fling it open and beg forgiveness. Because I know in my bones who’s standing outside.

Instead I walk calmly and collectedly. I unlatch the chain and unlock the deadbolt. I turn on the porch light. I take a deep breath because who knows when I’ll be able to breathe again.

John is standing with one hand on the doorjamb, tie loosened and his usually perfect hair is all types of disheveled. There’s a fever in his dark eyes I’m only now starting to recognize. He looks gorgeous. Yep. Breath. Gone.

His eyes run up the length of my body and a small smile starts to play across his lips. Shit. I look like hell. I shift self-consciously and try to smooth out a few of the many wrinkles but his hand catches mine as he takes a step into the house.

“No. Don’t,” he looks me over again, “You look beautiful.”

His fingers intertwine with mine and it takes every ounce of me to not fling myself into his arms. Just breathe.

“I got your email,” he squeezes my fingers, “The only thing that made me stop reading was you.” I can see a storm brewing in his eyes and my heart goes out to him because there’s nothing I can say or do. Well…that’s not entirely true. There’s plenty I could say but I find that my tongue has grown too big for my mouth.

“Sal,” he closes his eyes and drops his head like he’s about to deliver me the worst news in the world. I clench my teeth and steel myself. Did I get this whole thing entirely wrong?!

His next words relax my jaw.

“Sal…I need you.”

Boone hopes off the couch and comes to sit by his feet.

“You are the first female to ever give me attitude. You are the first female to ever defy me. You are the first female to ever make me eat goddamn sushi,” he laughs like it’s incredulous, “You are the first female I’ve never been able to figure out.”

His thumb makes spirals across my hand and I have to check myself before I fall into a puddle of goo on the floor.

“You are the strongest person I’ve ever met.”

I’m about to negate his comment when he grabs my face with both hands and forces eye contact. Intensity burns through them.

“Don’t do that. Don’t downplay yourself. I’m sick of that shit.” Yeah…he’s not kidding around.

I dig deep. Like, really deep. And I find the voice that’s been cowering like a little baby.

“What did you mumble that night?”

He cocks his head, clearly not understanding what I’m getting at, so I elaborate. “The night you showed up to say thank you…yet again. I was bitching about being left in peace. And you mumbled something that you wouldn’t tell me. Even after I bribed you with food. What was it?”

I see it the second he remembers what I’m referring to. He smiles at me. It’s a damn beautiful smile.

“You really want to know?”

“Yes.”

“I said, ‘“It’s probably because you’re fucking adorable and I can’t have you for myself.’”

I let the words sink in. He thinks I’m adorable? Really? After the bumblefuck-ness?

I don’t hold my tongue. “Even after I was a total bumblefuck?! Christ, I nearly broke your nose!”

He starts laughing, all deep and throaty and sexy. I could get used to this laugh. “Bumblefuck? Seriously? Christ, Sal,” He cups my chin again and stares into my eyes. “You are not a bumblefuck. Although I appreciate that you would call yourself that.”

His face sobers and he says each word slowly and deliberately. “You are unique. You are beautiful. And you are something that I’ve wanted for a very long time.”

“Like, how long?” My voice sounds small but at least I hold eye contact.

“Remember that first dinner meeting with Matt and Alok?” I nod. “You walked up wearing that red dress. God,” he pauses, “You looked so fucking beautiful it almost brought me to my knees.” He looks away speculatively. “Actually, I think that’s why I drank so much that night. And why I was so cranky the night after. I realized how much I wanted you and I couldn’t do anything about it,” his eyes find mine again, “You were still so raw from Eric’s passing. I didn’t feel right trying to make a pass at you.”

He captures the back of my head again with one hand while the other comes to rest on my shoulder. “We’ve spent the last four years working closely with each other, more closely then we ever have. Every damn day has been a struggle for self-control,” he takes a long breath, as if he’s finding strength, “And if I don’t say it now I’m going to hate myself for the rest of my life.”

I know what he’s going to say and my stomach knots tightly, but this time it’s a good knot.

“I love you, Sal. I want to make a life with you.”

Hearing it for the first time makes me all gooey on the inside. I stand very still, just in case my legs give out on me. I try to breathe normally but it’s hard when my heart is beating so erratically. John loves me. I glance down at Boone.

“See? I’s told you!” He’s panting happily, just sitting there beside John like he’s directing this whole scene. Hell, for all I know he is.

My voice comes out strong, “You’re going to have to be patient with me,” a smile creeps onto my face, “I want you too, but we’re going to have to move at, like, a snails pace.”

He gives me his mega-watt smile and I bask in it’s glow, “I’ve got nothing but time.”

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