Page 60 of All We Could Still Have

Dana pulled me into an embrace. “Oh, Nikki, I didn’t realize how attached to him you are.” My heart leaped; I was sure she wouldn’t take him now that she understood how much the little red fur ball meant to me. “I’ll call Marie. See when her next litter is due so you can get a puppy of your own, or better yet, you can swing by the rescue center. There are plenty of dogs who need love and a good home.”

I wasn’t going to explain this to her again. She would never understand. “Promise you’ll take good care of him.”

“Count on it.”

“Where’s his water bowl for the ride? Biscuits? Does he have a chew toy?”

“I’ve got it covered.” Dana slid into the driver’s seat, and the car roared to life.

“You need to stop on the way. Walk him. Let him go to the bathroom. Get some ...”

Dana’s window shot up before I finished speaking, and the Corolla backed out of the driveway.She’ll call me within a week to come and get him,I thought.

Oliver circled in his seat, yelping. I imagined he was calling out to me.Don’t let her take me.I stood where I was, tears rolling down my face, watching until they disappeared from view.

More than a week after Dana left for the Cape with Oliver, I still wasn’t used to the silence of the house. When I came home from work, I expected him to leap up on me at the front door and bathe my face in soggy dog kisses. Every time I entered the kitchen, I waited to hear him trotting down the hallway after me. At bedtime, I listened for the tap, tap, tap of his nails on the hardwood behind me. Before I went to sleep, I texted Dana, asking her to send pictures, and Oliver’s furry little red face was always the last thing I looked at before falling asleep.Sometimes I didn’t know whom I missed more, the dog or Kyle. Their absences fed off each other, making my loneliness grow.

Aunt Izzie took pity on me and invited me to her house for dinner on a hot Thursday night in July, a few weeks after Dana had left. We sat at the table on her deck surrounded by her flower beds, which were blooming with orange daylilies, white daisies, and yellow sunflowers. I thought back to the day Dana and I had carried the table outside. Back then, spring had still been fighting to knock out winter, Aunt Izzie’s yard lacked color, and Kyle and I were in a good place. At least I’d thought we were.

“So much has changed since Dana and I set the furniture up out here back in the spring,” I said.

Aunt Izzie scooped a heap of salad out of the serving bowl and transferred it to her plate. A cherry tomato rolled onto the table. I caught it as it fell over the edge.

“Good catch,” Aunt Izzie said. “Have you spoken to Kyle?”

“Not since before Dana left.”

“You can’t go on in limbo. You two need to figure out how you’re going to move past this bump.”

Bump.Her word choice infuriated me. It minimized what Kyle had done. I imagined venting to my sister and Dana making a joke.It is a bump. A belly bump.

“Do you want to work things out, save your marriage?” Aunt Izzie pointed to the bottle of balsamic. “Pass that to me.”

“I just don’t see how I can with the baby.”

“The baby will be the easy part. You’ll fall in love with it.” I didn’t know if I was more surprised by what she said or by the confidence with which she said it.

“I’m afraid I’ll resent the baby.” I hated admitting this, but it was the truth.

“The poor baby didn’t do anything.”

“No, but it will be a constant reminder of what Kyle did.”

“Only if you let it.”

“How could it not be?”

Aunt Izzie sighed.

“Also, I’ll be an outsider in my own house.”

Aunt Izzie laid her fork down on her plate. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Kyle will always have a more meaningful connection because he and the baby share the same blood.”

Aunt Izzie bit down on her lip. Otherwise, she didn’t move.

“What?” I asked.

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