Page 68 of I Hate You More

“I know, Wheezy,” she murmured, careful not to wake him. “It’s been a rough day, but we’ll get through it. Fighters like you and me always do.”

With a deep, resolute breath and a quick adjustment of Wheezy’s blanket so he was better tucked in, she headed out of the bathroom to face Mrs. Orson. She had no idea what that woman was going to throw at her next, but she was strangely eager to find out.

“I’m not going to tell you where I got Wheezy’s papers” was the first thing Mrs. Orson said as soon as Ruby walked into the living room. “If you don’t know, then you can’t be held liable for any inaccuracies that may have accidentally slipped in. Let’s get that clear right away.”

Ruby halted, her hand on the doorjamb to settle herself. Maybe she wasn’t so eager to talk to this woman after all. Mrs. Orson was supposed to tell her about Norbert, not Spencer.

Spencer, she knew. Spencer, she understood.

“It doesn’t matter.” Ruby set her jaw. “We’re not going anywhere near that dog show.”

“Oh, you’re going to be in it. And you’re going to win. You promised me, remember?”

Ruby couldn’t recallpromisingto do anything, but she was willing to play along for the sake of this conversation. Taking a few tentative steps into the room, she moved behind the nearest couch. She used the back of it to brace herself.

She wanted to stay standing for this. Shewouldstay standing for this.

That was the thing Spencer hadn’t understood—the thing he’d crushed with his sweet, stupid smile and his even sweeter, stupider offer to throw away the West Coast Canine Classic. After everything Ruby had done to get to this point, the lies she’d told and the work she’d put in, the way she’d clawed her way out of the grave she’d buried herself in for the past ten years, she was supposed to win the dog show on her own two feet—or at least tolosethe dog show on her own two feet.

That was the whole point of Spencer. Unlike everyone else in her life, Spencer had never once hinted that she could use her looks as an all-access pass to the future of her dreams. In fact, he did the exact opposite. He liked herin spiteof her face. He kissed her only after she dared him into it. He refused to be charmed by Wheezy’s soft brown eyes—or by her own.

Until today. Today, she’d been at her lowest point: covered in a rash and worried about Wheezy, caught in a lie and fired from her job. And instead of taking her by the shoulders and telling her that she was a strong, capable human being who had yet to balk at anything life had thrown at her, he’d offered her the easy way out.

He’d meant it, too—that was the worst part. He’d have whisked her into his car and driven her home, where he’d have done all those things her mother dreamed of: given her money and gifts and a dog-show trophy, provided a future where she didn’t have to do anything but be a pleasing addition to his life. In other words, he’d forgive her for her little foibles, and all she had to do in return was smile gratefully for it.

The thought was enough to make Ruby scream. And cry. In no particular order.

“You only have his word for it that Wheezy isn’t a purebred golden retriever,” Mrs. Orson said. Her voice was soothing in ways that mocked the roiling of Ruby’s blood. “How do we know his test was valid? Was it done in a lab? Was he careful not to cross-contaminate the sample with all the other animals under his care?”

“Mrs. Orson, you don’t understand. It’s not about Wheezy’s bloodlines anymore. I’m starting to think it never was.”

“Of course it wasn’t.” Mrs. Orson patted the couch cushion next to her. When Ruby didn’t sit, she patted harder. “I can feel the bones in my frail, osteoporotic hands starting to crack, dear. Please sit before they break.”

Mrs. Orson’s hands were fine, as Ruby was well aware, but she gave in and sat anyway. There was no telling how far Mrs. Orson would take the farce, and the last thing she wanted was to have to call another medical professional into this house. Look what had happened with the last one.

“There are only two things in this world that my ex-husband loves,” Mrs. Orson said the moment Ruby’s butt hit the cushion. She spoke as one making a formal announcement. “One of them is himself.”

Ruby could guess her line. “And the other is Wheezy?”

Mrs. Orson nodded, a pleased smile folding the lines of her face. That gentle serenity was at odds with what came out of her mouth next. “And since I was too chickenhearted to take the first one, I decided to take the second.”

Ruby turned to stare at her. “YoustoleWheezy?”

Mrs. Orson waved an airy hand. “It’s a community-property state. Wheezy is technically half mine. Everything of Norbert’s is half mine, including the money he made running one of the biggest and scammiest insurance companies in greater Seattle. Why do you think I’m so comfortably situated now?”

Ruby could only shake her head. She should have introduced this woman to her mother months ago. If everything Mrs. Orson was saying was true, they had quite a bit in common.

“Norbert had been training Wheezy to appear in dog shows since the day he brought him home.” Her tone took on a narrative lull that encouraged Ruby to relax against the cushions. “Nothing was too good for him. Training, grooming, professional dog walkers, a chef.”

“Wait—adogchef? That’s a thing?”

“Don’t interrupt me.” Mrs. Orson tapped her pursed lips with her forefinger. “The point is, he lavished more love and attention on that animal in five months than I got in fifty years. Think about that. Fiftyyears, Ruby. My whole life. My youth. My beauty… Oh yes. You aren’t the only one with a nice pair of legs, so don’t look so surprised. I was quite a dish, back in my day. And I wasted it on that scoundrel.”

There were a lot of reasons why a man could be labeled a scoundrel, but something about Mrs. Orson’s tiny, resolute frame made Ruby’s heart squeeze. Any man who’d been given the gift of this woman in his life and wasted it,hurther in any way…

“My family didn’t believe in divorce, so I took what had been offered and tried to make the best of it. I’d have kept doing it, too, if it wasn’t for that dog.” The serene, playful smile was back on her face. “Try as Norbert might, he could never make anything of Wheezy. Oh, he knows all the commands, don’t you worry. And he’ll do them when he feels like it, but he never feels like it when Norbert is in the room.”

Although Ruby had been told not to interrupt, she couldn’t help inserting a question. “But you asked me that day if Spencer had a commanding voice. You said Wheezy responds best to authority.”