Page 78 of Best Offer Wins
He’d sold Blossom, he explained, to a customer who had a dog just like her. The woman came into the store almost every week, with a Cairn terrier in her shopping cart, the same type of dog that played Toto inThe Wizard of Oz. My dad, ever the opportunist, had recognized it as Blossom’s breed—something far more valuable than a street mutt found by the dumpsters. So on that day, my first day of school, he’d talked the woman into following him to the townhouse on his lunch break to check out his bargain-priced purebred. She’d bought Blossom right there in the parking lot for three hundred dollars.
The burning filled me until I was hurling my fists against my dad’s stomach—the highest I could reach. To get me to stop, he clasped both of my hands in his, tightly enough that my bones ached.
I have never forgiven myself for leaving Blossom alone.
30
Natalie knocks around ten o’clock Sunday morning to pick up Fritter, leftover eyeliner still smudged across her lids.
“Wanna do a movie night tonight?” I ask, handing over Fritter’s leash. “I’ll bring the snacks.”
“That sounds amazing,” she says, “but I’m supposed to see this guy.”
Fuck.
“Oh, okay, no big deal,” I say in a tone that conveys the opposite, casting my eyes downward.
“Hey, is everything okay?” she asks, taking a half step into my apartment.
I meet her gaze just as a row of warm tears begins to well.
“Oh my God, what’s going on?” She comes all the way inside, shutting the door behind her.
“It’s really embarrassing”—I sniffle—“but I think Ian might be having an affair. I could really just use a friend right now.”
Something like hunger flashes in her eyes before her mouth, still faintly pink from last night’s lipstick, falls open as she assumes the appropriate level of dismay. “Oh no, sweetie! What makes you think that?”
“He’ll be back from the gym soon, so I can’t talk about it now,” Isay, certain she won’t be able to hold out much longer for the juicy details.
“God, you poor thing, come here.” She brings me in for a squeeze. “You’re obviously coming over tonight. I’ll reschedule with the guy.”
“Really?” A couple of well-timed tears break free as I pull away, smiling at her gratefully. “You’re the best, Nat. I’ll come up after dinner, probably around eight or so.”
“Ugh. I don’t know how you can sit through a meal with him.” She lets herself out. “I’ll see you later.”
I lock the deadbolt behind her, then grab what I need. I stand frozen just inside the door, waiting silently for my cheating, piece-of-shit husband. Within a few minutes, he’s jiggling the handle, wondering why he can’t get in.
“Margo? Are you there?” he calls from the other side.
I brace myself, not moving a muscle.
“Babe?” he tries again. “It’s me. Let me in.”
I take a deep breath. Then I do as he says.
When I show up at her apartment just after eight, Natalie frowns and pulls me into another pitying hug. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”
Fritter trots over and sniffs at my knee, waiting for Natalie to release me so I can give him his usual scratch. Once she lets go, I bend to greet him, then move into the kitchen, peeling off my cross-body purse and setting down a grocery bag of snacks. I extract a mostly full bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon, holding it up for her.
“Will you drink this? It probably only has another day or so till it starts to turn, and obviously”—I pat my belly—“I can’t finish it.”
“Oh, that’s right,” she groans, already retrieving a wineglass from a cabinet by the stove. “You can’t even drink right now! How are you even surviving?”
I shrug. “Honestly, I don’t really know.”
“Well, go make yourself comfortable and tell me everything.” She gestures toward her pink velvet sofa, taking a sip of the wine, then swirling it around in the glass. “Can I get you something? Sparkling water maybe?”
“I’m fine for now, thanks,” I say, choosing the end next to Fritter.
