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“Why do you both think I can’t take care of a dog?” Dana asked.
Aunt Izzie passed Dana the dish with the bread. “I give you one to two months before you’re trying to hand him off to someone else.”
Dana jabbed her food with her fork. “Thank you for the vote of confidence.”
“Prove me wrong,” Aunt Izzie chided.
There’s a better chance of Dana keeping the dog than there is of Kyle coming home.The thought popped into my head with no warning. I feared it was the truth.
Chapter 18
Friday night, I passed row after row of empty cubes in the silent building on my way out. Before I boarded the elevator, I flipped the hall lights off. My SUV, parked in the far back corner, sat alone in the dark lot. I shivered as I made my way toward it, walking cautiously so I wouldn’t slip on ice. Somehow I had made it through a week’s worth of endless meetings with Elizabeth. They had helped keep my mind off Kyle during the workday, but now, a long, lonely weekend stretched in front of me.
Kyle and I still hadn’t spoken. All week, I had come home from work, expecting to find him sitting in his recliner, waiting for me. I fantasized he’d stand when I came through the door and rush across the room to embrace me.I’m sorry I left,he would say. I’d hug him tightly and tell him I was sorry. Then we’d make love, and of course, I would get pregnant. After five nights without him, I missed him and wanted him to come home.
Last night, I’d texted him, asking if we could talk. As with all the other texts I’d sent, he’d ignored it. As I waited for my car to heat up, I took a deep breath and called him. After six or seven rings, his voice mail picked up. Even as tears stung my eyes at the sound of his voice, I smiled, remembering sitting across the table from him as he recorded his outgoing message. “It’s Kyle Sebastian.” He had started in a serious, businesslike tone, but I’d made faces at him while he spoke until he cracked up. In the message now, I heard him trying not to laugh. “SorryI missed your call.” He hadn’t been able to stifle his laughter, though, so at that moment in the dark, cold parking lot, he laughed in my ear. He rushed through the end of the message without taking a breath. “Leave your number. I’ll call you back.” When he’d disconnected, he’d lost it, giggling so hard that he’d had to bend over until he composed himself. I had expected him to rerecord, but he said he liked how I always made him sound happy.
I pressed disconnect without leaving a message and drove out of the parking lot.
Traffic snarled through town, as cars with skis loaded on their roof racks clogged the roads. During weekends and school vacations, the population in Stapleton doubled from less than two thousand to almost four. I hated dealing with the crowds, even if the tourists kept our economy running. At the light in the center of town, I turned right to break free of the gridlock. This route brought me by Luke’s street. I turned onto it.
The lamppost at the end of his driveway emitted a welcoming glow, Kyle’s Jeep was parked by the garage, and a table lamp lit up the living room. I imagined Kyle inside, watching a home-improvement show. I sat in the driveway for a long time, thinking about what I would say. I’d tell him I was sorry, because I was, and I’d ask him to come home. We could figure out the rest together.
Someone had sprinkled sand over the ice on Luke’s walkway, but it was still slippery. I trod carefully across it. At the front landing, I squared my shoulders and rang the doorbell. No one answered, so I pressed the button again. Still, no one came to the door. I looked up at the windows, wondering if Kyle was hiding behind a curtain, watching me shiver on the front landing.
“You just missed them,” a high, shrill voice hollered: the neighbor across the street. She stood on her walkway in a long red bubble jacket, staring me down. Luke had a million and one stories about her, how she was in everyone’s business. I’d met her once, a few summers ago, when Kyle helped Luke build a sunroom. She had stomped across the road tocomplain about the pounding of hammers and buzzing of saws, saying it was too early in the morning for all that commotion, even though it was after ten.
She must have been wondering why Kyle was staying with Luke. Was that why she’d come outside—to get the story? I put my head down, hoping she wouldn’t recognize me, wouldn’t realize my connection to Kyle. I didn’t want him to know I had been here. “I can tell him you stopped by,” she said, walking farther down her flagstone.
“I’ll text him.” I rushed back to my car, almost losing my balance on the slick walkway.
By the time I started the engine, she had made it to the end of her driveway. She watched me pull away, probably memorizing the make and model of my vehicle or license plate. Kyle would definitely know I’d been there.
I would have no trouble finding him if I wanted to. He and Luke were probably having a beer, and in this small community, there were only so many places they could be. I also knew if I showed up at a bar looking for my husband, we’d become the talk of the town. Heck, with Luke’s busybody neighbor, we already might be.
A few miles down the road, I passed the ice rink. Kyle would be playing hockey there tomorrow night. No one would think twice if I showed up to watch his game.
Sharon and I hadn’t spoken since Saturday at the restaurant, when she’d told me she was pregnant. Still, instead of driving home, I stopped at her house because I didn’t want to be by myself. I knocked on her door. When after a minute, no one answered, I rang the bell. Inside, the pitter-patter of small feet sprinted toward the door. It flew open, and Cameron stood there, a milk mustache above his lip and a dark stain on his green sweatshirt. Without saying a word, he leaned to his left to see around me. “Where’s Uncle Kyle?”
“It’s just me, bud.”
He frowned. “I wish it were Uncle Kyle instead.”
I winced.
“Cameron,” Sharon scolded. “That was mean and hurt Auntie Nikki’s feelings.” She stood in the living room just outside the kitchen door, watching us. Seeing her dressed in maternity clothes, a pink-and-black shirt and black yoga pants, hurt more than her son’s honesty. “Tell her you’re sorry, give her a hug, and go finish your dinner.”
He reached up to hug me and ran off.
“You’re just in time for dinner,” Sharon said. She led me into the kitchen, where Rick and the boys were eating. She quickly made up another plate, steak tips, salad, mashed potatoes, and carrots.
“Where’s Kyle tonight?” Rick asked.
My face flushed. Several seconds passed before I answered, and when I did, I stared down at the floor. “He’s with Luke.” I felt Sharon watching me and took another bite of my steak. The sweet taste of teriyaki filled my mouth.
“Probably watching the game,” Rick said. “The Bruins are playing the Canadians.”
After dinner, I helped Sharon clean while Rick bathed the boys. “So where’s Kyle, really?” she asked. I hesitated, not wanting to tell her because I was afraid she’d take his side. “Is he still mad about the 401(k) withdrawal?”
