the cushion and my dog hops up. Curling into a half-moon crescent, he rests his head on my thigh. His ears are warm velvet as I stroke my palms over them.
“I’m deciding whether to keep calling him Roughneck.” I explain the story to my sister, tearing up as I recount the details of the embedded collar. “Is that a mean thing to call him after he suffered like that?”
“Seems more like a badge of honor to me.”
“That’s what I was thinking.” I scratch behind his left ear, earning a groan of pleasure. “I started reading to him already. I guess that’s something Tia did to tame him.”
“What are you reading?”
“Irving Stone’s Lust for Life. It’s a fictionalized history of Van Gogh.”
“Sounds interesting.”
“Roughneck seems to like it.” I scratch behind his ears, and he gives a low moan. “How are things in Paris? Did you finish that gown with all the beading?”
“Yes!” As my sister chatters about her latest wedding dress creation, I feel the tiniest twist of envy. Not for her career, which is pretty kickass.
But I’ve got the kickass career, too. What I don’t have is the sexy husband murmuring in the background asking if I want waffles or crepes for breakfast.
“Either one’s good, babe,” my sister says to Josh. “I’m talking to Nessie.”
Nessie. She’s called me that since we were little, and I always loved the sound of it. “Say hi to that super-stud husband of yours,” I tell her.
“Hi, super-stud,” she parrots, laughing at something he murmurs in return. “He wants to know if you’re running the place yet.”
“Not yet. Maybe in a week or two. Did I tell you Dean and I are interviewing chefs?”
“Mmm, I hope you get a taste test.” She laughs. “Of the food, not Dean.”
It’s the second time my sister’s probed this particular tender spot. I swear I’ve told her nothing about my growing attraction to the hottie CEO, but twin intuition is strong.
“Dean’s very professional,” I manage as blandly as possible. “Smart, too.”
“I’m sure he is. Just pointing out that it wasn’t too long ago we were all crushing on him.”
“What?” I have no idea what she’s talking about.
“Come on—Dean Judson? Don’t you remember every girl in middle school had his picture tacked up in her locker?”
“I have zero memory of that.”
“Come on, Nessie.” My sister makes an exasperated noise. “Haley Montfort and Ashleigh Styles and Candace Chrisman—remember how they used to argue about which Judson brother was the hottest?”
Sometimes I think my twin and I had completely different childhoods. “I guess I missed that.”
She laughs. “Probably because you were smart enough to chase after real guys,” she says. “I mean real guys at our school. The ones you could date instead of the make-believe ones.”
I snort at that. “Yeah, that worked out really well for me.”
“Ugh. Colton, you mean?”
“Colton Lawrence the Third.” This is a good reminder that Raleigh was far from the first poor choice I’ve made with men. My high school boyfriend was only the start.
“What a toad,” Val says. “You dated him the last couple weeks of sophomore year, right?”
“That I told you about,” I admit. “It was actually a few months.”
“What? Why?”
Why did I date him? Why didn’t I tell her? All good questions.
“I didn’t want to give Mom the satisfaction of knowing I was dating a guy from the country club set.”
“Who turned out to be an asshole.” My sister makes a disgusted noise. “What guy thinks it’s okay to pick out a girl’s prom dress for her?”
“Not a very nice one.” I stroke my hand down Roughneck’s back. “I’m doing better. I picked a good one this time.”
“Oh, you mean D—”
“Dog, yes.” I know damn well she was going to say Dean. “My dog is amazing.”
“I can’t wait to meet him.” Val’s quiet for a bit. “Did I tell you I ran into Raleigh last week?”
My sister’s mention of my ex jerks me back to the conversation. “Ugh, no. Where did you see him?”
“Here in Paris.” She makes a disgusted noise. “The network made me go to this big charity event.”
“Kind of a random place to run into someone from home.” I brace for a wash of emotion—anger, disappointment, nostalgia. I thought I’d marry Raleigh, after all.
But there’s nothing but blankness in the center of my chest. Blankness and a bit of regret.
“He was hanging out with this pack of overgrown frat boys,” Val continues. “Must have been a business function or something. He was holding court over this ridiculously expensive bottle of wine.”
“That