If Lindsey had known how good puppies were at licking up tears and giving much-needed comfort, she would have found a way to get one years ago, she decided, nuzzling Argyle’s little belly with her cheek, and pulling the comforter up over both of them. The bed was too big now. She considered, for a moment, sleeping on the couch, but couldn’t bear to be away from Zach’s pillow-it still smelled like him.
That made her sob harder, and the puppy whimpered in sympathy, getting back to work on licking up the salt on her cheeks. The more she thought about those last moments with him, the harder she cried, but she couldn’t seem to stop. The memory was too fresh for her to cut it off-just hours old, the apartment still lingering with his presence, his duffle packed, his uniform blinding white perfection over his muscled frame as he stood at the door, arms around her, both of them silent, the only sound Argyle clamoring at their heels.
“I can drive you,” she said again, but he shook his head.
“Nate’s my ride. Besides, I don’t want to remember you waving goodbye at the airport. And I don’t want you to have to drive home.”
She’d proudly made it that far without tears, but they broke in a flood then, her chin quivering with their force. “I’d be a basket-case.”
“I know.”
The knock at the door startled them both. Zach swore under his breath, pulling her into him and kissing her, the memory of their marathon bedroom session over the weekend still fresh for them both. But she wasn’t thinking about how incredibly good their sex was-and it was-instead, it was all about loving him, and the hole in her heart he would be leaving when he walked out the door. She gave all of herself to him in that kiss, willing herself not to think about the possibility that it might be their last and yet acting as if it just might be.
It was the tears in his eyes as they parted that undid her entirely as he whispered, “I love you.” She didn’t even have the voice to return the words as he picked up his duffle and opened the door, going out quickly without a look back. Argyle yapped at the door after him, until Lindsey collapsed onto the floor, her whole body shaking with her sobs. Then the little black puppy joined the competition and whined and howled right along with her, and she didn’t know who was louder.
She’d made it to the bed, she remembered. She wanted to be as close as possible to the last place they’d been happy together, aware of what was coming, but pushing it off as long as possible. And now…
Now life had to go on without him. She fingered the ring on a chain around her neck-the grocery store ring, which had, indeed, turned her finger green within twenty-four hours. She’d found a chain for it instead, and wouldn’t take it off.
How could she possibly manage her life without Zach? She closed her eyes against the thought. She didn’t know how, exactly, she was going to do it, but there was work, and school, and there was Argyle to take care of. She hugged him close, glad for the warmth and comfort, knowing he needed her as much as she needed him.
* * * *
After that first week of not eating, forcing herself out of bed, going through the motions, things started to fall into a routine she could live with. It went on that way for a month, at least, work, school, she and Argyle curled up on the couch, sharing Moo Goo Gai Pan out of the carton. She couldn’t imagine that Puppy Chow was anywhere near the complete nutrition they claimed. And there was a phone call from Zach-just one- before they went under, he said. After that, there would be no contact at all until he was ready to come home.
That, actually, set her back another week, the sound of his voice, the sharp pain in her chest that immediately returned from its usual dull ache. But it was beyond good to talk to him, to whisper what she wanted to do to him-she could hear him squirming, and wondered afterward if their call was monitored, and laughed at the thought. She let Argyle lick the phone and bark at it to say hello, and she told him about her teachers, her classes, how Nate had followed Zach’s instructions quite seriously and was
“keeping an eye on her,” stopping by once a week to check in.
She almost didn’t tell him about her mother-she’d started calling every so often, leaving messages on Zach’s answering machine. Lindsey’s voice wasn’t on it, but somehow her mother had gotten the number and knew she was living there. She just erased them, but she did break down and tell him about the calls.
“When you’re ready,” was all he said. She rolled her eyes and changed the subject.
