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“Maybe, but that still doesn’t explain why you never bring her around.”

“I literally just said she’s shy.”

“A lot of people are shy, Mark. If you’re going to waltz in here, interrupt my lunch break, and start complaining that you don’t know the most intimate details of my love life, I’m going to shove that right back in your face.”

He frowns and stands.

“Well, maybe I’ll bring her around.”

“See that you do.”

He leaves, and as soon as the office door closes, I stand and carry my sandwich over to the trash can. I don’t like wasting food, but suddenly, I realize that if I eat anything else, I’m going to throw up.

When I settle back down at my desk, I’m quiet as I jiggle my mouse and bring my laptop screen back to life.

Time to figure out if we can afford to hire more people – or if I’m going to actually ask Jessica Mortimer if she’d be willing to buy my company.

It might be the only way to save it.

11

Jessica

Hot summer days have always been my friend.

While I know plenty of people who dislike feeling sweaty or the warmth of the sun against their skin, that’s never been me. As a kid, I used to come home with the nastiest sunburns and my mother, a dermatologist, finally banned me from hanging out with my friends. She started dressing me in hats, SPF 70 sunscreen, and long-sleeved shirts before she’d let me leave the house. As soon as I moved out, though, I was back to bikinis and lounging around in the warmth.

My dad used to call me a lizard. He always said I should have been born in a warmer climate, rather than in the chilly mountains of Colorado. Still, even Colorado gets nice, warm summers, and this year is no exception.

After thunderstorms on Thursday and Friday, as predicted by Annabelle, Saturday starts off looking beautiful. I arrive at the park in shorts and a tank, but I still follow my mother’s advice and wear sunscreen and a hat.

Does the hat look silly?

Maybe.

Do I want to upset my mother and end up with skin cancer?

Not so much.

The park is already bustling when I arrive. I know there are going to be multiple reporters on site, so I ditch the sunglasses and instead settle for squinting when the world gets too bright. Toni and I are both aware we’re going to be photographed together today, so we want to make it count as much as possible. If someone takes pictures and the viewers can’t tell that it’s definitely one of us, the pictures will be useless, and we’ll be back to square one.

I spot Toni at a little table that has a tablecloth on it. I smile at the picture of dogs on it. The name of the animal shelter – Love ‘n’ Paws – isn’t even displayed. The tablecloth just says ADOPT A FURRY FAMILY FRIEND TODAY.

“That’s a terrible sign,” I point out. “Where’s the name of the shelter?”