The Billionaire's Matchmaker(50)

“Gid took the job in California. His house is on the market, and so is his clinic. He’s leaving Chandler’s Cove.”

“I know.” Marney took Mia’s hand in both of hers. The diamond ring on the left one caught the light and seemed to emphasize her friend’s words when she added, “But he’s not leaving you, honey. There’s a difference. Gid would stay if you wanted him to. That man would do anything for you. He loves you.”

Mia swallowed. She didn’t feel sick or panicked, which she supposed a therapist would say was a step in the right direction. But she was a long way from feeling comfortable with the idea of commitment and capable of the kind of trust it entailed. Would she ever?

“What can I do?” she asked.

“That’s for you to decide, but I will give you this bit of advice—don’t listen to your head. Listen to your heart.”

Marney left not long after that. Charlie stayed.

“I think Dell and I could use a few more days alone, if you don’t mind?”

“You’re transparent, you know.”

“What do you mean?” Marnie replied, eyes wide with innocence.

“You think the dog might give me a good reason to go and see Gid.”

“That’s merely a bonus. I just want time alone with my man.”

…

What was he getting himself into? Gid was still asking himself that question when he parked in the driveway behind Mia’s car and carried the pizza box up to the front door.

A flurry of excited barking followed his knock. Mia opened the door with Charlie in her arms and a sheepish smile on her face.

“Marney and Dell didn’t get back?” Gid asked.

“Actually, they did, but Marney asked me to keep the dog for a little longer.”

“Ah,” he said when Mia’s gaze darted away. “The honeymoon continues, I take it.”

“Apparently. Come on in. Want a beer?” she asked as they made their way to the kitchen.

“That sounds good.”

“I thought we could eat on the back patio, if that’s okay? It’s so nice out this evening.”

Something seemed different about her. He couldn’t put his finger on exactly what.

“Sure,” he said.

Mia set down the dog and grabbed plates, napkins, utensils, and two long-necked bottles of beer before heading out the back door. Her yard was fenced in white pickets and surprisingly large given how small the house was. Charlie dashed around like a lunatic, lifting his leg on a lilac bush and two other shrubs before returning to the patio. His nails clicked on the red brick pavers that were edged in moss, the sound an appropriate accompaniment to birds chirping and the swelling buzz of cicadas.

It would be a couple of hours yet before the sun set. In the meantime, its rays filtered though the leaves of an enormous oak tree that kept the yard mostly shaded. They sat at the wrought iron bistro set that he recalled Mia telling him she’d received from her friends as a housewarming present.

When he opened the lid on the box, she smiled.

“Half deep dish and half thin crust. Another compromise,” she murmured.

“Not really. The thin crust is for me. I’ve become a convert,” he admitted, and then narrowed his eyes. “Of course, if you tell anyone I said that, I’ll deny it.”

“Of course.”

He reached for a slice of thin crust. She took deep dish. When he glanced up, she smiled. “I have a confession to make. I sort of like deep dish.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s not real pizza, mind you. You don’t need a knife and a fork for real pizza. But it’s good in its own way.”

He nodded. “I can accept that.”

They ate in silence for a few minutes. Charlie rose on his hind legs and begged until Mia made a shooing motion.

“You know the rule. No people food. Go chase a squirrel or something,” she told him.

He plopped down on the pavers and whined instead.

“Your yard looks nice,” Gid told her. She had a way with plants, an eye for arranging them in the flowerbeds to highlight their beauty, which was no surprise given her profession. He pointed to a mound of dirt that broke the flow of pink and white blooms. “Well, except for that spot over there. Charlie?”

Mia nodded. “He uprooted half a flat of impatiens before I got him to stop.”

“Jack Russells are diggers by nature. They were bred to hunt and root foxes out of their dens.”

“Gee, now someone tells me,” she grumbled good-naturedly, and cut off a small piece of pizza. Before popping it in her mouth, she said, “Speaking of flowers, how did your mother like the roses?”

“She loved them. Of course, she would have preferred to have me there but…” He shrugged.

“I guess she’ll have to get used to you missing family gatherings.”

Gid frowned. He would have to get used to it as well. But he couldn’t stay here, so close to Mia, yet separated by a gulf too wide for even love to span. He’d go insane.

“I’ll fly in for holidays and such. And Mom is already talking about how nice it will be to visit me in sunny California when the weather turns inhospitable here.”

Gid’s mother may have lived in Chicago for more than three decades but she remained a Southern girl at heart. And she’d never acclimated to the weather.