Saved By the Boss by Olivia Hayle

Epilogue

One year later

“No,” I say. “Stay.”

The six golden retriever puppies squirming at my heels don’t listen. Despite their floppy, oversized ears, they don’t listen to commands. Not yet. One day, they’ll be some of the best trained dogs, a companion to people who need their guidance.

But right now, they’re seven weeks old, and they’re a riot.

“You’re not allowed out here,” I tell them, one hand on the dog gate. “Will you stop trying to sneak past me?”

Their mother gives me a brown-eyed look from her sprawl on the dog bed. She’s the picture of tired, maternal pride. You’re on your own, the look tells me. I’m just happy they’re not playing with my tail anymore.

I make it out of the dog gate, but I’m not alone. A budding escape artist makes a mad dash for it, wiggles his way out and bounds on too-big puppy paws past my legs.

“Oh, no you don’t!” I swoop down, but he rolls sideways out of my reach, the picture of playfulness. His tiny tongue hangs out of his mouth in a way that… okay. I might have parents who’ve raised infinitely more dogs than they’ve raised kids, but I’m not immune. When a puppy hits you with that look, you melt.

So I melt.

I scoop him up and he gives a content wriggle, pushing a tiny nose against my palm. I take him with me through the kitchen and out the door to the backyard. My parents are sitting on their usual chairs under the oak tree, their two adult dogs sprawled beneath their chairs.

Anthony is in a third chair, sitting opposite them.

His long legs are stretched out in front of him, evident in his shorts. It had taken me a long time to convince him he could in fact wear shorts with my parents—no formalwear required—and here he is, tan legs on display. His hand is buried in Ace’s fur.

A pair of prescription-strength sunglasses cover his eyes. While they do nothing to stop his fading vision, they make reading a bit easier. For all the dour predictions he spouts when he’s in a bad mood, he’s not blind yet.

The doctor says the vision loss has plateaued at the moment, but we don’t know how long it’ll last. First time I’m happy if a plateau lasts forever, Anthony had said. He’s getting along better with Dr. Johnson these days.

My mother breaks into guffaws of laughter at something Anthony says. His lip curls into that half-smile, and beneath the sunglasses, I know his eyes are bemused. My parents love him.

I think he’s quietly astonished by them.

This house, with its dogs, scattered books and boisterous game nights, is miles away from the serene quiet at the Winter family’s city townhouse or Montauk residence. One time at his parents’ house, I’d seen a housekeeper comb the fringes of an oriental rug.

Combing. The fringes. Of a rug.

In my parents’ house, you’d be lucky if there are any fringes left or if they’ve been gnawed off by puppy teeth.

The puppy in my arms lets out a soft yowl and wriggles. All three dogs at the table lift their heads. Only Ace’s tail starts to wag, the others over the antics of the latest litter.

“Everything okay in there?” my mom asks.

“They’ve torn down the place,” I say. “It’ll fall any moment.”

“Ha-ha,” Dad says. He’s got his construction shorts on, pockets heavy with gadgets he needs to fix the house. There’s always a screw that needs tightening. “You couldn’t resist bringing someone out with you?”

I run my fingers over the puppy’s soft head, and he snuggles into the crook of my arm. “Have you ever noticed how often I visit when you have a new litter?”

“Summer,” Mom says. “Are you implying what I think you’re implying?”

I sink down on the chair next to Anthony and give her a wide smile. “Maybe.”

She laughs. “That’s my girl.”

“Good thing you like dogs,” Dad tells Anthony. “Would’ve been difficult to fit in with Summer if you didn’t.”

Anthony leans over my arm and runs a single finger over the soft fur on the puppy’s head. He receives a soft lick in return. “I met Summer and Ace at the same time,” he says. “I always knew it was a package deal.”

“Two for the price of one,” I say.

“Mhm. Both golden.”

The puppy in my arms wriggles, legs pushing against my arm. He crawls over to Anthony.

“Abandoned,” I say.

Anthony chuckles and watches the puppy settle against him, putting a hand over the dog’s back. It’s nearly the size of his curled-up body.

“She likes you,” Mom says.

“It’s a she?” Anthony asks.

“Mom can always tell,” I say. “Don’t ask me how she does it.”

She laughs. “Comes with the territory, I think. Not to mention seeing the puppies so often during their first few weeks. They look the same, but only in the way siblings look the same. There are little quirks that make it easy to pick them apart.”

Dad shakes his head. “She’s the only one who ever manages, by the way. To me, all goldens look alike until they’re adults, and even then, they’re similar.”

“How do you decide?” Anthony asks, still looking down at the puppy. “Which ones get adopted to loving families, and which ones will be trained by the Foundation?”

Mom’s voice is matter-of-fact, even if she glances my way. “Well, guide dogs need to have a particular temperament. Attentive, eager to learn, willing to work, and thriving on praise. After a few weeks with the pups, it’s easy to spot the two or three who exhibit those traits the most.”

“Hmm,” Anthony says, looking up at Mom. “How long do they go through training?”

“Well, we raise them as puppies, and when they’re young adults, they enroll in training at the Foundation for half a year.”

“Then they’re matched with their partners,” I say. “They’ll go through training together before they graduate.”

“They graduate together?” Anthony asks. His thumb moves in slow circles over the puppy’s golden fur.

“Yes,” Mom says, and this time, her voice is warm. “Clive and I have been there for every graduation the past eight years. Haven’t we?”

“We sure have,” Dad says. “Eleven of our dogs have become guide dogs.” There’s obvious pride in their voices, and I know Mom cries every single time she sees the dogs they’ve raised up on that stage, sitting by the companions they’ve come to love, and who love them in return.

“Is it something you’ve considered for the future?” Mom asks Anthony. “If you do, it would be a pleasure to find you a suitable dog in our litters.”

I hold my breath, but Anthony only nods. “I’ve thought about it,” he says. “I’m not there yet, in terms of vision loss, but I will do it when I am.”

“You will?” I ask.

He nods, turning to look at me. There’s only warmth in his eyes. “Yeah. We already have Ace. What’s one more dog?”

“I’m happy to hear that,” Mom says. She stands and brushes off her jeans. “Anyone want some more lemonade? Clive?”

My dad looks up at her. “Well, I’ll… yes. Yes, I do. I’ll come with you. Anthony, another beer?”

“I’m good, thank you.”

“I’ll get one for myself, then.” He puts a hand on my mother’s back and they walk side by side to the house. Cooper and Hera rise from their sprawl and follow them, tails held low.

“Well,” Anthony says by my side. “That was subtle.”

I smile. “A guide dog, huh?”

He looks down at the puppy in his lap, extracting one arm to wrap it around my shoulders. “They’re nicer than a cane.”

“Cuter, at least.”

“Softer to pet.”

I chuckle. “A bit less well-behaved, but I think you’ll survive.”

“So do I,” he says. His hand curves around my shoulder. “When do you want to go?”

I look down at my watch. It’s a little past two. “Soon. In fifteen?”

“Sounds good.”

“Do you know when Tristan and Freddie are driving up?” We’ve rented adjacent cabins in the Catskills for the weekend and I can’t wait to breathe the fresh mountain air. Neither can Ace, though he doesn’t know it yet. The last time he met Tristan’s son, he received more cuddles and playtime than he knew what to do with.

“They’ve already made it, I think. They wanted to take Joshua hiking this afternoon,” Anthony says.

I bump his chest with my shoulder, softly, not to jostle the dozing puppy in his lap. “See? Hiking is a perfectly acceptable activity in the Catskills. No life-risking involved.”

“We’re not risking our lives by going white-water rafting.”

“I can see the headline now. Two of New York’s most successful billionaires lost to the waters as grieving girlfriends watch helplessly from the shoreline. New York State mounts huge rescue effort.”

“That headline is too long,” Anthony says. “If you were reading it to me from the Times I’d say they need to hire a new editor.”

“Anthony,” I protest.

He laughs, the sound deep and free. “I’ll be careful,” he says. “Trust me, I don’t have a death wish, and Tristan most definitely doesn’t. Besides, I have a feeling both you and Freddie will join.”

“What? This is your bucket list wish, not mine.”

“Yes,” he says, grinning, “but you’ve never been one to back down from a challenge.”

I settle against his side. “You know just how to appeal to my pride.”

“Just as you know how to appeal to mine.” He presses a kiss to my head, his hand sliding down my arm. He lifts it up and I gaze down at the diamond Cartier watch on my wrist. “I’m glad you finally accepted wearing this, by the way.”

“You are?”

“Yes. Means you’re getting used to outrageously expensive gifts. Besides, I bought it for you.”

“You did not buy it for me.”

“Yes, I did. It was the one thing you looked at in that brochure.”

“When we were saving the rainforest?”

“Yes. Think about it that way,” he says. “You wearing that watch is making a real difference in the world.”

I laugh, unable to help myself at the dryness in his tone. His lip curls and he looks back down at the watch. “Besides,” he says, “one day I’ll give you something expensive for this finger, right here. The watch is good practice.”

“Anthony…”

“Summer,” he says. Turns my head up and presses a single kiss to my lips, one that spreads through my chest and warms my heart. “But don’t worry. I’ll involve you in the process.”

“Involve me in the process?”

“Yes. I think you’d prefer a vintage ring, if I know you as well as I think you do.”

“You do know me very well,” I murmur, looking down at my bare ring finger. “I’d love to wear your ring.”

He’s hinted before, but here it is, spoken out loud. My throat feels thick with emotions. And Anthony knows, because he always does, and presses me closer against him.

His lips brush my temple. I look down at the puppy in his lap and wonder how he can make us feel so comfortable, just by being him.

“Summer,” he murmurs.

I press a kiss to his jawline. “It’s funny. When you bought Opate, I wasn’t too happy about it. I knew you were saving us, but I was afraid you’d change things.”

“I did change things,” he says.

“Yes, but for the better.”

He chuckles. “I had to change it for the better. You gave me no choice.”

“Mmm.”

“For the record,” he says, brushing a tendril of my hair back, “I wasn’t too happy about it either.”

“You made that clear.”

“Have I ever told you how I ended up being the Acture partner who ran point on Opate?”

“No. Is there a story here?”

The puppy in his lap yawns, and he looks down, smiling. “There is, actually. We played poker for it.”

“You… played poker? The winner got Opate?”

He gives me a look. “No,” I say, bumping his shoulder with mine. “Don’t you dare tell me it was the loser.”

“It was, and I lost. We were at Tristan’s and the lighting wasn’t very good. I mistook the suits.”

“Oh.”

“I was bitter,” he says. “I’ll admit that. But the thing is, I might have lost that game, but I still won in the end. Opate is doing better than ever and here I am, sitting with a future guide dog in my lap, and you beside me. I saved Opate, but you saved me.”

I can’t tear my eyes away. He’s never been more handsome to me than he is right now. “You saved yourself,” I murmur. “By embracing the future.”

“Embracing the future,” he echoes. “For however long we have, and whatever comes our way.”