Page 66 of When We Had Forever
Well, I have no cause to complain. And now I write for a living, the way I always wanted, even if endlessly chronicling medical devices isn’t exactly what I had in mind.
I put the finishing touches on the table. After one last glance at the hallway mirror to confirm my hair is properly curled and my little black dress tight in all the right places, I venture upstairs.
As usual, Michael is bent over his drafting table, his eyes fixed on whatever architectural wonder he’s currently transcribing from his imagination. I clear my throat.
He looks up. “Hey.”
“Hey. Dinner’s ready.”
“Great.” He smiles in that muted way that tells me he’s still miles away, in drafting mode. “I’ll be right there.”
Back downstairs, I wait so long that the steaks cool. I sigh when I think of how much the meat cost, but...oh, well. We can afford it, thanks to him.
Finally, Michael takes the chair across from me and drapes a spotless linen napkin over his lap. “This looks amazing. Thank you. And happy anniversary.”
“Happy anniversary.” I smile as we toast. Cidery sweetness fizzes on my tongue.
While we eat, we revisit all our usual topics—the amazing July weather, the dinner party we have planned with Kate and her new husband, the question of whether or not we should get a dog. I vote yes, Michael votes no. It would just be extra work, he says, for no real reason.
Ultimately, I let him win, because the conversation functions as more of a pressure-release valve than anything else. As a stand-in for discussing the one thing he can’t buy me. Because I’ve already broughtthatup enough times, and it always ends with him sending me off on a run.
Over dessert, Michael sets an envelope on the table.
I stare. “I thought we agreed on no gifts,” I squeak out.
“I couldn’t help myself.” He smiles. “You know how I feel about spoiling my angel.”
I try to smother the thump in my veins, but this is no jewelry box. It’s anenvelope. The kind that just might have plane tickets inside.
I can’t wait another moment. I snatch the envelope and tear it open, then whip out a...
...gift certificate. To a dog breeder. For a shockingly large sum.
I turn it over a few times, my brow furrowed. “What’s this?”
“What does it look like?”
“But...didn’t you just say no dog?” I go hunting in the envelope again, but it’s empty.
“It was a bluff, Mina.” He looks concerned by my lack of enthusiasm. “I found a breeder here in Seagrove who’s got a litter of purebred Labrador puppies we can choose from. We’re scheduled to have a look tomorrow.”
“A puppy? A purebred?” I fiddle with the paper. On the off chance Michael ever agreed, I pictured us going down to the animal shelter for a toothless, half-blind old mutt, the kind that needs love and snuggles in its twilight years.
Besides, Darlene could probably fund the shelter’s efforts for half a year with a check this large.
Michael’s face falls. “Is this not what you wanted?”
I tuck the certificate away. “I... When I said I wanted a dog, I meant one that needed a home.”
He looks mystified by that. “Oh. Okay. Well, if you’d rather go to the shelter, we’ll do that. I’ll just call the breeder and tell her we had a change of heart.”
I muster a smile. I love the idea of a stinky old dog lolling around on our pristine leather couches, but...
The hole the dog conversation fills yawns wider than ever.
Michael’s brow pleats. “Why don’t you look happy right now?”
Oh, god. I hate that I’m doing this. I pull my smile wider. “Iamhappy. Thank you.”
