Chapter 2
901 Words
I didn't even have time to change out of my formal gown before I peeled out of the driveway and straight into the lashing, pouring rain.
Liam's assistant had sent me the address. A dog kennel tucked out in the far suburbs.
Liam probably thought I'd throw my little fit and eventually crawl right back to him.
Rain hammered against the windshield so hard it blurred everything outside, just as messy and unclear as the roil of emotions churning in my chest.
Liam's calls and texts flooded my phone nonstop, like a bomber dropping payload after payload.
Liam: Olivia, haven't you made enough of a scene? Get back here right now!
Liam: You're throwing away our entire engagement party just for a stupid dog?
Liam: Come back now, and I'll pretend none of this ever happened.
I stared at those icy, callous words, and my stomach twisted so violently I thought I'd throw up.
I pulled over to the side of the road and emptied my guts, heaving until my whole body ached. Then, my face blank of all expressions, I got to work.
One by one, I blocked his phone number, blocked his social media profiles, and blocked every single one of our mutual contacts, every last one of them.
And just like that, the world went quiet.
An hour later, I finally pulled up to the so-called 'nice environment' kennel Liam had told me about.
Acrid, stinking ammonia of urine hung heavy in the air, and sharp, frantic barks echoed all around me.
I flicked on my flashlight and stumbled inward, tripping over uneven ground with every step.
Cramped, filthy iron cages lined the property, each one holding different dogs, all howling in misery.
My heart dropped straight to the bottom of my chest.
I tore up and down the rows of cages, screaming Charlie's name over and over as I searched.
Finally, tucked into the farthest corner inside a tiny, pitch-black cage, I spotted him.
He wasn't the clean, handsome golden retriever prince I knew anymore. He was huddled in the corner, his whole body soaked through, caked head to toe in mud and grime.
His beautiful golden fur was matted into clumps, dull and lifeless.
When he heard my footsteps, he lifted his head.
Those big eyes that always sparkled with joy were now swimming with terror and helplessness.
"Charlie!" I ran to him sobbing, my hands shaking so bad I could barely fumble the cage lock open.
He let out a soft, whimpering cry of grievance, then launched himself straight into my arms.
His big body shook nonstop, and he pressed his face hard into the crook of my neck.
My chest felt like it was being sliced open over and over with a knife. The pain was so bad I couldn't even breathe, let alone speak.
This was what Liam called a good environment?
I hugged him tighter, stroking his trembling back over and over.
"Don't be scared, baby. Mom's here. I'm taking you home."
We didn't get back to my house until the early hours of the morning.
I gave Charlie a two-hour hot bath, then carefully blow-dried every inch of his matted fur bit by bit.
He was unnaturally good throughout the whole thing and didn't fight me once. But those pretty eyes of his had lost all their old spark, dim and quiet now.
I pulled his favorite big chicken leg out of the fridge, boiled it, tore it into strips, and fed it to him by hand.
Watching him scarf it down like he hadn't eaten in weeks, my throat tightened, and fresh hot tears spilled down my cheeks.
I swore right then and there, never again, as long as I lived, would I let this poor boy suffer this kind of unfair treatment.
Just then, Chelsea called.
The second I picked up, a tidal wave of furious yelling blared through the speaker.
"That bastard Liam! I swear I want to tear him to pieces!" she exclaimed, before her voice softened in sympathy, "Hey, don't be upset, we don't need that garbage anyway. Go find someone a hundred times hotter, a hundred times richer than that loser, and make him eat his heart out!"
Those words hit me like a jolt of lightning, and suddenly everything clicked.
Why on earth was I the one hurting here?
If anyone should be broken up over this, it was Liam, the i***t who had just lost the best girl he'd ever had in his whole life.
I glanced down at Charlie, still twitching with unease as he pressed his warm body against my feet.
A bold, wild idea took root in my head.
I grabbed my phone and hammered out the steps to create a brand-new social media account in seconds flat.
I set the profile picture as the photo of Charlie and me together.
And for the account name? I typed it right in: Charlie's Blind Date Diary.
My fingers flew across the screen as I wrote the opening line of my very first post:
Charlie, a 7-year-old male Golden Retriever.
His deadbeat ex-dad was blind and heartless, and threw him away cold just to lock down a 100-million-dollar contract.
I've decided to take matters into my own hands and hold a site-wide search for a perfect new daddy for him.
Only one requirement for the job: Charlie has to like him.
- Writer
