Every Wrong Reason

Swiping the back of my hand against the silly show of emotion I didn’t understand, I decided that I was just overemotional. This was the first Christmas I had ever spent alone.

I was bound to be upset. And confused. And nostalgic. And heartbroken.

Those were completely normal feelings to have after walking into a dark, empty house with no one to greet me but my dog.

I scratched at Annie’s neck and my fingers bumped up against something unfamiliar. I pulled back to find a brand new, pretty pink collar on her. “What is this?” My heart rate picked up, even as I realized it must have been Nick.

She licked at my chin, anxious for me to get back to petting. “Did Nick stop by?” I asked the dog. She just kept licking me. “What else did he get you?”

She didn’t answer.

I flicked on more lights. I wasn’t afraid of Nick by any means, but knowing someone had been in my house while I was gone still freaked me out. I seriously needed to get his key from him.

I walked into the living room, needing to make sure he locked the front door after he left when I tripped over the new dog bed nestled up next to the couch.

“What in the world?”

Annie dove from my arms for her new bed. She turned in circles as if showing off for me before settling down with a big doggie sigh. Her cute little nose rested on her outstretched front paws and I found myself smiling.

“He spoiled you.” There was a big rawhide bone tucked in the corner and a new chew toy under the coffee table. “I suppose you love him more now. I only got you a new brush.”

She let out another big sigh and I took that as a yes.

“Well, listen, if his lawyer puts you on the stand, would you please pick me? I can spoil you too.”

Her brown puppy eyes lifted to stare at me with an indolent, “Yeah, right.”

I stuck my tongue out at her and walked to the front door. “He’s not going to get you. Get that thought out of your head right now.”

It still made me sick that he would even consider taking Annie from me. She was my dog. I was happy that he didn’t hate her like I thought he did. But that didn’t mean he should win her in our divorce.

And I hated him for trying to.

The door was at least locked. That should have soothed some of my anger, but by the time I reached it, I was really starting to get worked up.

What had started as melancholy remorse quickly turned into outraged fury. How dare he try to take Annie from me! How dare he try to take my house and get partial custody of a kid that didn’t even exist!

If he wanted this divorce as much as I did, then why did he have to make it so difficult?

Why couldn’t he just let me go?

Why couldn’t he just walk away and leave me to the embarrassing remnants of my shattered life?

When I turned around and saw Annie happily lounging in the new bed he bought her I saw red. It was even gray to match the living room as if he thought he wasn’t just going to win the house, but everything inside the house too!

I pulled out my phone and jabbed my finger at it. He had officially ruined Christmas for me.

Okay, maybe it hadn’t been that great to begin with, but this was the last straw. He had pushed me over the edge and he was going to get a piece of my mind.

“Did you find it?” his rough, low voice asked. There was no hello, no merry Christmas, only the slightly nervous question that stripped all the wind from my sails.

“The dog bed?”

“The picture.”

“What picture?”

“Were you calling about the dog bed?”

“I was… I was calling… What picture?”

“Where are you?”

“At home.”

His low chuckle carried through the phone and I felt my anger begin to disintegrate. “I mean, where are you in the house?”

“Oh.” I took a needed breath. “In the living room. By the dog bed.”

“Look up.”

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