Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 64818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
“Lucy wants a puppy,” I say, moving away from the story of us.
“So I’ve heard,” Ella murmurs, and I can hear the amusement in her voice. “Like a million times.”
“What do you think about it?” I ask.
She shrugs. “You’re the one with the allergies. I love dogs and it’s a lot of work, but I think we could do it.”
“I don’t think you should have to do all the work.” She rolls her head toward me, but her face is shadowed. “Lucy is thirteen. She wants a pet, so she should be the one to care for it.”
“True,” Ella replies. “Sounds like you have doubts.”
“Not doubts,” I reply with a shake of my head. “More like I don’t want her to fail because I don’t want her to doubt herself. What’s the best way to make sure she succeeds, but in a way that doesn’t mean we run in and do all the work for her?”
“I hear you,” she says, her tone indicating I should go on.
I explain Kane’s idea of fostering a puppy from a service dog organization to see if it’s workable. Not only with my allergies—I’ll stock up on medications or something—but how we would manage with Lucy and the puppy going back and forth between our homes with my work schedule that varies each week.
“It’s a good idea,” Ella concedes. “But what if she fosters and doesn’t do a great job? Are you prepared to tell her she can’t have her own puppy?”
Christ, probably not.
But I shore up my dad spine. “If she’s not ready, she’s not ready. We can try again when she’s fourteen.”
“She’ll be heartbroken,” Ella murmurs sadly, but she doesn’t disagree.
“Yeah, well, I think she won’t. Our Lucy is mature and loyal to her commitments. I think she’ll succeed.”
“And then, at that point, we just hope the allergies don’t kill you,” Ella snickers.
God, I love her snicker. It makes me laugh, and that feels good… sitting here in the dark, laughing with my wife.
We make a plan—Ella will look into local agencies, give me a list, and I’ll make calls. We decide to keep it as a surprise to Lucy.
It’s when Ella yawns that I know it’s time to leave. I spread my legs, then push up off the chaise. “I should get going.”
Ella swings her legs the opposite way, crossing her arms as she faces me.
I don’t know what to say, so I ask something I already know. “Lucy’s debate team match is still this Wednesday, right? Six PM?”
She can’t hide it, but Ella jerks in surprise. I never remember anything. Have a pattern of not keeping things straight even when she put items on a shared Google calendar. It’s been a problem, and it has caused me to miss some of Lucy’s stuff throughout the years.
I don’t need the shadows to lift off her face to know she’s gaping at me in complete bafflement.
“Um… yeah,” she finally says.
“Great.” I smile, wondering if she can see it in the slivers of moonlight sifting through the neighbor’s acacia tree. “I’ll see you both there.”
After I step off the gazebo, I wait for Ella to exit and walk beside her toward the house to make sure she gets in safely.
Her hand goes to the wooden handle on the sliding glass door, but she hesitates, finally shifting toward me. “I was irritated you came here tonight, but I’m not now. This was a good talk. A nice time.”
“I’m glad you think so.” I give her a slight tip of my head.
I pivot, take one step away from her, but then stop. I can’t let a moment where we’re getting along go to waste.
“Ella,” I call. Stopping with the door partially open, she swivels. “I know when you said I needed to leave, I asked you a million times why you were doing this, and I know you told me the answer just as many times. I’m not sure I was ever really listening to you, and that’s my bad. But can you tell me, one more time and in as few words as possible, why you wanted to separate?”
I can see her face clearly now from the patio light, and her brows knit slightly. “As few words as possible?”
“Yeah,” I whisper. “Because I want to figure the rest out on my own.”
She inhales sharply at my bold proclamation, then lets out a long exhale. “Exactly as you just said, Jim. You didn’t listen to me when I was trying to tell you things were getting bad. Boiled down… I was invisible to you.”
I want to deny that statement—want to yell it’s not true. That every time I looked at her from the moment we met until the day she kicked me out, I was dazzled by her. But I know we’re speaking about two entirely different things.