life felt for a man. A big, safe,warm
house she could fill with dogs and books and comfortable things. Beautiful things. A house with a big
kitchen where she could make cookies and bread and soup. A house with a huge fenced-in backyard
where Einstein could run. And maybe another dog. Or two. She didn’t want Einstein to be an only child.
A house. A house instead of her cold, tiny little apartment where Einstein took up half the floor space,
and the oven didn’t work right, and she never felt safe. A house.
Her house.
After that, for three months, even after she started seeing Bradley, she’d drive by the house and long for
it hopelessly, the way some women long for movie stars. She knew it would never be hers but it was the
dream of her heart And then one day she’d been with Bradley and they’d driven by, and she’d said,
“Slow down so I can see my house,” and he’d asked her what she meant, and she’d told him. And he’d
said, “If we were married, we could buy that house. Will you marry me?”
And she’d said, “Yes.”
What she hadn’t realized at the time was that she was saying “Yes” to the house, not to Bradley.
“Maybe it wasn’t a mistake,” she told the dogs as she moved back into the room. “At least we have the
house.”
It sounded cynical. And selfish. Tina would be pleased.
Einstein barked at her.
“I know,” Lucy told him. “I should pull myself together and stop talking to dogs. Well, you’re the only
ones who listen to me without telling me what to do. Especially Tina, lately...”
Tina. Telling her to get rid of Bradley. Actually, packing up all his stuff in a box might be another small
step toward independence. She wouldn’t throw it out on the lawn, of course, but she could store it neatly
in the basement That would make the house seem more like it was hers alone.
Alone.
With Zack gone, she suddenly felt alone, as if something warm was missing.
She wasn’t sure she wanted to be alone. Especially if Zack was right about the shooting and the
scratches... Except of course, he wasn’t right because it was ridiculous that anyone would be threatening
her, and besides there was probably a perfectly good explanation for those scratches.... And if there
wasn’t, what was he doing leaving her alone? He should be there, protecting her. Obviously he didn’t
think she was in danger, or he wouldn’t have left her alone.
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Alone.
Of course, she wasn’t alone. She had the dogs.
And besides, there were some kinds of alone that were good. In fact, wonderful. For example, the
without-Bradley kind of alone was heaven. No more chill in the air, no more one-right-way-to-do-things,
no more long silences and emptiness. Just her and the dogs and the fireplace. Warm.
And alone.
“Enough of this daydreaming stuff,” Lucy told the dogs, suddenly straightening. “We have work to do.
Let’s get rid of Bradley.”
Lucy packed up everything of Bradley’s that she could find in the house, surprised to find it filled three
boxes, not one. “There was more to Bradley than I thought,” she told the dogs. Most of the stuff was
papers and books. His clothes were already gone; Tina had thrown them all out the front door while the
locksmiths were changing the locks. By the time Bradley had come back mat night, his entire wardrobe
was on the front lawn.
Mrs. Dover had enjoyed it immensely.
He hadn’t argued much. He’d knocked on the door and called her name, and then Tina had opened it
and threatened him, and he’d gone away.
Not much of a fighter, Bradley.
Not much of a lover, either.
Or maybe that was just with her. Maybe he was better with the blonde.
The blonde. Lucy tensed as she remembered the shock she’d felt when she’d come home to find the
blonde standing in the middle of the living room. Her living room. Saying that she and Bradley had been
together in the
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