“You’re still at the studio?”
“No, ah, I’ll explain later.”
“Okay. Um, listen, Avery, I hate to do this—”
“No,” I breathed, pain lancing through my chest. I sat down as my legs gave out. He was canceling. He had thought it over and realized how inane the whole situation was. He had come to his senses.
As if he could read my mind, his voice became louder. “No! No! Listen—please!”
“Okay.”
“I don’t want to cancel. That is the last thing I want to do. But the dog—Lucy—the one I operated on? She’s having a rough time recovering. I can’t leave her alone, so I have to stay. All I’m asking is if we could postpone until tomorrow.” He paused. “Please?”
I exhaled as relief flowed through me. “Oh.”
Daniel chuckled. “Did you honestly think I would call and cancel on you unless I had a choice? God, I’m so disappointed, I can taste it.”
“So you’ll just sit there all evening in the clinic and watch over her?”
“Well, sort of.”
“Sort of?”
“My house is attached to the clinic, so I’ll bring Lucy there and make her comfortable. But I’ll stay with her all night, yes.”
“You live at the vet clinic?”
“I own the vet clinic.”
“Oh. I didn’t know.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me yet. It was one of my goals for tonight. I can’t tell you how much I was looking forward to seeing you again. But, Lucy is—”
I interrupted him. “Daniel, it’s fine. I understand. I think it’s wonderful you care about your patients so much.”
“I do. Tonight was important. I wanted to see you—more than I can say—but, I have to stay. Unless . . .”
“Unless?”
“Unless I could convince you to come here? I know it’s not like a date date, but I could order in dinner, and we could talk while I make sure Lucy’s okay? She’ll probably sleep all evening from the pain meds, but I need to keep a close eye on her.” His voice dropped to almost a whisper. “I’d make it up to you tomorrow. I want to see you, Avery. So much.”
It wasn’t a tough decision. I wanted to see him, as well. “Yes. On one condition.”
“You want more peppermints?”
I chuckled. “No. I’ll bring something and make dinner.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to. I like to cook.”
“What about your fingers?”
“They’re fine. A little sore, but still working.”
“Okay. I want to look them over again.”
“Fine. So dinner?”