Imaginary Lines (New York Leopards 3)

I winced. Most of the other runners and walkers glanced our way. Gabi, a third of the track behind us, immediately cut across the grass and was at our side in seconds, barely breathing hard. “What?”

Cindy pointed at me.

I raised my hands in defense. “Nothing.”

Cindy scowled. “Tamar.”

Oh, fine. “I just mentioned that it’s possible that I may be kind of dating Abe.”

Gabi stared, and then leaned her head back and groaned. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“What?” I swiveled between the two of them. Guilt and irritation and a roiling uncomfortableness bubbled up inside me. “Why is this bad? Why not good?”

“Abe?” Cindy said. “Kind of dating?”

Gabi nodded. “He comes to you with a ring

, then we’ll be happy.”

“Wait.” I held up my hands. “Isn’t a ring getting ahead of ourselves?”

“You’ve spent ten years hung up him. I don’t think so.”

Cindy frowned. “Maybe she’ll get him out of her system?”

Gabi sighed. “Impossible.” Then her eyes widened. “Wait, are you two actually sleeping together?”

Why were my cheeks so hot? “Yes.”

“Oh my God. Wait, so are you actually dating or just hooking up?”

“We’re dating.”

Gabi let out a frustrated sigh. “Look, I love you, and I like Abe. He’s a great guy. But do you really want to do this to yourself again? Honestly?”

I stared at them. “Yes.”

“Well, what about you reporting on the Leopards and him playing for them?” Cindy’s tone was the vocal equivalent of wringing her hands. “That has to be messy.”

“It hasn’t been that bad. His teammates seem pretty good at keeping their private lives private, and at work...it’s been okay.” Tanya’s face rose in my memory, crafty and considering. I’m not going to fire you. I’m going to use you.

I pushed that aside. She hadn’t done anything.

She wouldn’t do anything.

I was sure everything would be fine.

* * *

My parents and I showed up at the Krasners’ at quarter of one, bearing fresh fruit and pumpkin pie. Their kitchen, dining and living rooms overflowed with cousins and neighbors. Charlie, old and white but still moving, wagged his way through the chaos and made sure to come greet everyone with a sniff of his wet snout and hope in his large eyes that we bore gifts of food. I bent down to ruffle his soft head as I stood beside my parents, scanning the rooms—as I had so many Thanksgivings in the past—for Abraham.

There. He stood talking to two cousins, a high school senior and a college sophomore.

He looked up, and his eyes caught on mine. With a quick word to his cousins, he excused himself and wended through the gaggle of people. He said hello to my parents and then knelt down on Charlie’s other side, his hand going immediately to scratch his ruff. Charlie’s tongue lolled out in appreciation. “Hey.”

I smiled at him, still thrown off-kilter by my conversation with my friends. “Charlie’s getting up there.”

He grabbed the lab’s floppy ears and gently blew in his face, which made Charlie poke his snout forward inquisitively. “He’s an old boy.”