Pippa sniffed his hand, then gave it a lick. Two licks, three. The dog gave a little yap—her playful yap—and stood there, tail wagging, looking up at Aiden with wide, adoring eyes.

Sophie scowled at the little traitor.

Aiden laughed at the dog and ruffled her head. “Wanna play, girl? You wanna play?”

“Come on, Pippa. Let’s go outside.”

Hearing her favorite word again, Pippa trotted over to Sophie, who leashed the dog. Once outside, Sophie noticed the strands of lights had been taken down. The patio furniture had also been removed. The dog did her business in record time, which Sophie was grateful for since it was still raining.

When she returned inside, Pippa gave a quick shake on the rug and ran to her dog dishes beside the pantry. Aiden had apparently filled them with fresh water and kibble.

“She’s cute.” He turned back to the stove and flipped an egg. “How long have you had her?”

“Four years.”

The granite island had been set for two. A platter of bacon sat in the center beside a tall stack of pancakes. A bowl of fresh fruit rounded out the meal. He’d been at this awhile.

She felt a prick of guilt for wanting to rush him out the door. “Thank you for making breakfast. You didn’t have to.”

“The fridge was well stocked—hopefully you didn’t have other plans for the food.”

“Other than eating it, no.”

He scooped up the eggs and settled them on the plates at the island while Sophie filled their glasses with orange juice. It appeared she’d have to make it through one last meal with her ex-boyfriend. She checked the oven clock. One quick meal.

They settled at the bar stools, and Aiden offered up a prayer. Sophie didn’t hear a word. She was too consumed by her awareness of him, inches away. She focused on the quiet sounds of Pippa munching on her kibble.

When he finished the prayer, Sophie dug in, suddenly ravenous. She’d been too busy socializing during the reception to eat much. The bacon was lightly crispy, just the way she liked it. And he seemed to have remembered the way she drank her coffee, a little sugar and plenty of cream.

So he had a good memory. That didn’t mean anything.

“You okay? Did I hurt you last night?”

“I’m fine.” She had a couple bruises, and it hurt a little to swallow, but she kept that to herself. She glanced at the fresh scab on his temple and resisted the urge to ask how his head was doing.

“Thanks for clearing off the patio,” she said instead, wanting to keep the conversation neutral. “I was going to do that this morning.”

“I felt bad leaving the party early.”

“Understandable.”

“So, you’re going to be opening your bookshop soon . . . Will you be renting an apartment in town?”