Lucky’s tail wagged so hard, his back end shifted from side to side along with it.

When I’d asked Eva the same question, she’d laid out her plan: Lucky would ride with me to work, and then Angus would drop him off at doggy daycare—who knew there was such a thing?—and pick him up in time to ride home with me.

The real answer was written in the note she’d left on my pillow.

My dearest Dark and Dangerous,

Dogs are excellent judges of character. I’m certain the adorable beagle you now own will worship you nearly as much as I do, because he’ll see what I see in you: fierce protectiveness, thoughtfulness, and loyalty. You’re an alpha through and through, so he’ll obey you when I don’t. (I’m sure you’ll appreciate that!) In time, you’ll get used to being loved unconditionally by him and me and everyone else in your life.

Yours always and forever,

Mrs. X

Rising up onto his back legs, Lucky pawed at my shin, whining softly.

“Needy little thing, aren’t you?” I picked him up and tolerated the inevitable face licking. He smelled faintly of Eva’s perfume, so I pressed my nose into him.

Owning a pet had never been on my wish list. Then again, neither was having a wife and that was the best thing to ever happen to me.

Holding Lucky away from me, I eyed him consideringly. Eva had put a red leather collar on him with an engraved brass plate. Happy Anniversary. Next to that was the date of our wedding, so I couldn’t give him away.

“We’re stuck with each other,” I told him, which made him bark and wiggle harder. “You may regret that more than me.”

Sitting alone in my bedroom, I can hear Mom yelling. Dad pleads with her, then shouts back. They turned the television on before they slammed their bedroom door shut, but it’s not loud enough to cover their fighting.

Lately, they fight all the time.

I pick up the remote to my favorite radio-controlled car and drive it into the wall, over and over. It doesn’t help.

Mom and Dad love each other. They look at each other for a long time, smiling, like they forget anyone else is around. They touch each other a lot. Holding hands. Kissing. They kiss a lot. It’s gross, but it’s better than the screaming and crying they’ve been doing the last couple of weeks. Even Dad, who’s always smiling and laughing, has been sad. His eyes are red all the time and he hasn’t shaved the hair off his face in days.

I’m scared they’re going to split up, like my friend Kevin’s parents did.

The sun goes down slowly, but the fighting doesn’t stop. Mom’s voice is hoarse now and scratchy from tears. Glass breaks. Something heavy hits the wall and makes me jump. It’s been a long time since lunch and my stomach is growling, but I’m not hungry. I really feel like throwing up.

The only light in my room comes from the television, which is showing some boring movie I don’t like. I hear my parents’ bedroom door open, then shut. A few minutes later, the front door opens and shuts, too. Our apartment goes all quiet in a way that makes me feel sick again.

When my bedroom door finally opens, Mom stands there like a shadow with light shining all around her. She asks me why I’m sitting in the dark, but I don’t answer her. I’m mad at her for being so mean to Dad. He never starts the fights, it’s always her. About something she saw on television or read in the paper or heard from her friends. They’re all talking bad about Dad, saying things I know aren’t true.

My dad isn’t a liar or a thief. Mom should know that. She shouldn’t listen to other people who don’t know him like we do.

“Gideon.”

Mom flips the lights on and I jerk in surprise. She’s older. She smells like stale milk and baby powder.

My room is different. My toys are gone. The carpet beneath me is now a rug over stone floors. My hands are bigger.

I stand and I’m the same height as her.

“What?” I snap, crossing my arms.

“You have to stop this.” She swipes at the tears streaming from her eyes. “You can’t keep acting like this.”

“Get out.” The sickness in my gut spreads, dampening my palms until I clench them into fists.

“These lies have to stop! We have a new life now, a good life. Chris is a good man.”

“This doesn’t have anything to do with Chris,” I bite out, wanting to hit something. I never should have said anything. I don’t know why I thought anyone would believe me.

“You can’t—”

I jerked upright, panting, the sheet in my hands tearing violently. It took a moment for the pounding of my blood to subside as I tuned in to the incessant barking that woke me.

Scrubbing at my face, I cursed, then jumped as Lucky scrambled up the hanging comforter, pulling himself onto the bed. He leaped, tackling me in the chest.

“For fuck’s sake, calm down!”

He whined and curled into my lap, making me feel like a dick.