One spring evening, something in the air changed. Without actual evidence, I knew we were in labor. I should’ve had some idea how long it’d been happening, but I’d been conveniently pretending the pregnancy didn’t even exist.

Standing at the kitchen sink, I inhaled back a film of tears. I saw Manning before he saw me. He stood at the mouth of the stable, dusk settling around him while he raised his cell as if checking for reception. I could still turn out the kitchen lights and pretend I hadn’t come home. That I’d stayed late for an emergency operation, or had stopped by a friend’s, or been held up by car trouble. Not that Manning would fall for any of that. Lying to him was nearly impossible, not to mention I owned a perfectly functioning car thanks to his frequent tune-ups.

Manning fisted his hair, then turned to look through the window. Through me. I’d hesitated too long over whether to stay, but Manning didn’t waste a second. He started toward the house.

I flipped off the faucet. I hadn’t remembered washing my hands, but of course I’d known, somewhere inside, that I wouldn’t leave Blue to do this on her own. I didn’t want to, not really.

I dried my hands on a dishtowel as Manning came through the screen door. “I’ve been calling you,” he said.

“I turned off my phone this afternoon.”

“I hate when you do that.”

“I had a lot of work to catch up on,” I said. “The faster I get it done, the faster I can come home. Interruptions slow me down.”

He crossed his arms. “Some interruptions are worth it.”

He wasn’t happy with me, and I didn’t blame him. These past couple months, though, knowing I was in the wrong hadn’t motivated me to change my attitude. Life continued to test us. After some bad news from my doctor, I couldn’t muster any excitement about someone else’s pregnancy—not even my dog’s.

“I know you’re still angry at me,” Manning continued, “but she’s in labor. She needs you.”

My throat thickened the way it had moments ago when I’d come into an empty house and felt the shift. I’d been expecting it anyway, considering Blue had lost her appetite days ago.

She needs you.

Blue had needed me for a while, and I’d failed her during her entire pregnancy. I had a choice—go outside and face the truth, or turn and walk away. The latter was much easier, but it was what I’d been doing the past few weeks, and my mood hadn’t improved.

“I’ll get my things,” I said.

“I tried to get her to come in the guest bathroom. I set up a box with clean towels and shredded cardboard like you told me, but I couldn’t get her to move.”

“She’s never spent any time in there. That’s not where she’s comfortable.”

“You might’ve mentioned that weeks ago when you saw me getting it ready.” He stuck his cell in his back pocket. “Is she okay out in the stable?”

“She’s an animal, Manning. If her instinct is to be there, then she’s fine. You can move the box outside.” I turned to leave the room. “And grab a flashlight or something. It’ll be dark soon.”

I got the whelping kit I’d stocked from a shelf in the garage. Even though Manning had been on edge about everything—the pregnancy, the birth, and what we’d do with the litter—I hadn’t mentioned that I’d been preparing.

I went out back to the nearly finished stable, where Manning leaned in one of the stalls. He’d brought the whelping bed with him, but Blue had already created a nest of hay in one corner, where she lay panting on her side.

“She looks uncomfortable,” Manning said as I moved around him.

“Well, she’s in labor.”

I took a step toward her. Blue’s eyes shifted to me, but otherwise, she didn’t move, not even to wag her tail. “You all right, Blue girl?”

Manning came up beside me. “What can I do?”

“Just stay back and out of the way,” I replied.

“Hey.” He took my elbow, turning me to face him. “I don’t know why you’re still so angry after this long, but there’s no reason to snap at me.”

He was right as usual. Manning had every reason to be fed up with me. I wasn’t done being upset, though. With my eyes down, I said, “I’m sorry, but I don’t want to argue in front of Blue. It’ll stress her out.”

Manning released my arm, but his frown stayed with me as I kneeled down. “Hey, girl,” I said, slowly reaching out to see if she’d let me pet her. Her tail twitched, relief in her eyes.

That was all I needed to feel the weight of a guilt I’d been avoiding. Up until now, it’d been easy to make this all about me, but seeing Blue this way meant I’d have to put my own insecurities aside.

I pulled on rubber gloves, thinking back to five weeks earlier when Manning had called me out back because Blue had thrown up twice on their morning walk. I’d taken one look at her pink nipples and swollen belly and turned to a concerned Manning. “She’s pregnant.”

He’d grinned. “Really?”

Looking back, the pregnancy itself irritated me, but it was the excitement in Manning’s voice that’d quickly gotten under my skin. “Yes, really,” I’d said. “I’ve been asking you for months to bring her by the hospital so I could spay her. Who the hell is the sire?”

“How would I know?”

“Jesus, Manning. You’re the one who’s here with her all day.” There were no dogs I knew of in the immediate area. When had Blue even had the opportunity to get knocked up? Manning and I fucked every chance we got and had nothing to show for it but a couple UTIs, a collapsed work table, and an excessive lingerie bill thanks to Manning’s proclivity for ripping lace underwear. I’d shaken my head. “Just—never mind.”

“Are you upset that’s she’s pregnant?” he’d asked.

“Am I upset? Of course I am,” I’d snapped. “There are hundreds of abandoned pets in our county alone, forget the thousands and millions around the world. We’re contributing to overpopulation. If we wanted more dogs, we should’ve gone and rescued them.”

Manning had pulled back, his eyebrows halfway up his forehead. “Okay, but it didn’t happen that way. Your dog is pregnant. You love animals. You're a vet. How are you not happy about this?”

The licensed vet I’d worked under almost a year constantly reminded the staff to tell our clients to spay and neuter. Since our own pets were a daily topic of conversation, I’d have to admit that I hadn’t done it yet. “It’s irresponsible,” I’d said, then left to get ready for work.

Tonight, for the first time, I tried to summon some excitement about the fact that there were puppies on the way. I patted Blue’s rump and pulled out my thermometer.

“Everything looks normal,” I said, sensing Manning hovering. “Her water should break soon. You could get her something to drink.”

“Sure,” he said, his boots crunching on straw as he left.

Alone with the Blue, I spoke in soft tones, soothing her as I lifted her tail to take her temperature. Really, she didn’t need my help. In fact, aside from stepping back and monitoring the births, there wasn’t really anything Manning or I could do. Still, I was glad I’d come home. I wanted to be there for her. Blue was my first real pet, Manning’s, too, and she meant the world to both of us. Even if Manning didn’t understand my anger, I knew, deep down, it wasn’t because we hadn’t spayed Blue like we should’ve. I was also to blame for assuming she was never around other dogs when she had acres of land to herself. After the initial shock of the pregnancy had worn off, my embarrassment over not spaying her had become a small part of why I was so upset.

Irrational as it was, all Blue’s pregnancy had done was remind me I wasn’t pregnant. And she was just the latest in a string of brutal reminders. Tiffany was due next month. A receptionist at the doctor’s office had recently announced she was having twins. My regular checker at the grocery store had left on maternity leave. Not to mention I often administered prenatal check-ups on animals, ordered ultrasounds, and occasionally assisted in deliveries.

Everybody was getting pregnant.

Every single woman and animal could get pregnant.

And then there was me.

Weeks before finding out about Blue, I’d secretly gone to see my gynecologist after a few months of abnormally painful menstrual cramps. Manning and I had been trying to get pregnant for over a year. The instinct I’d had that we’d conceived had flipped to a gut feeling that something was wrong. Manning continued to reassure me he wasn’t worried, yet he’d been smoking a lot, sometimes disappearing out back in the middle of the night when he thought I was sleeping. I couldn’t blame him for being upset, but even if I asked, I doubted he’d admit he was disappointed things were taking so long.

Now I had an answer.

“I’m concerned you’re infertile, Mrs. Sutter.”

A pelvic exam and ultrasound had revealed ovarian cysts. My doctor suspected a blocked fallopian tube—my body was keeping Manning’s sperm from fertilizing my eggs. Given all that, plus the amount of time we’d been trying, endometriosis was my likely diagnosis. Manning and I had thought we’d moved the stars, but fate would get the last laugh. I hadn’t even begun to think about how I’d break the news to him. I wanted to have a solution before I told him—some way of easing the blow. Maybe even a second opinion. Until then, it was easier to be angry, to take it out on him and Blue, to pretend there’d been no ultrasound, no results, and no bad news.

Manning returned to the stable with a dish of water and set it next to Blue. I removed the thermometer from her rectum and checked the temperature. “We’re good,” I said, noticing movement in her stomach. “And her contractions are starting.”

“What now?” Manning asked.

I put the thermometer away, turned, and sat cross-legged to look at Manning. “Now, we wait. It could be quick, or it could be a few hours.”

He sat against the wall opposite me, resting his forearms on his knees. “It’s late.”

“Dogs usually give birth at night,” I said.

“I meant you were at work late. You have been a lot lately.” He scanned my face, probably reading me like a picture book. Most times, I appreciated his attentiveness, but lately, I wished he’d just stop looking at me. Stop trying to figure me out. There was no good way to tell him that even though I’d fought the heavens for a chance to give us everything we wanted, I wouldn’t be able to.

I picked at my cuticles. “It won’t be forever.”

“I know it won’t,” he said. “I guess I thought once you graduated, I’d see you more. But maybe that was naïve.”

I held my hands open. I didn’t know what Manning wanted me to say. We’d been over this before. “Every time we have this argument—”

“This isn’t an argument, no matter how hard you try to make it one.”

I ignored him. “Every time, I remind you that you’ve always encouraged me to go to school for what I loved. To follow my dreams.”

“And I remind you that I’m not upset you have to work. What I hate is that I don’t get to see you as much.” He pulled at the collar of his flannel. “I want to have dinner with you every night. That was our plan. You promised me you’d never let me work past seven, but you haven’t held yourself to that same rule.”

I wanted to blame him for Blue’s pregnancy and for my missing dinner because he’d encouraged me to do something I loved, but that was my anger talking. It wasn’t his fault I’d been dealt a bad hand. I’d once believed there wasn’t anything that could keep Manning from me—not anymore. Because he’d let things get in our way before. And I’d fought tooth and nail to make Manning understand he did deserve a love story that painted the night sky, that he was enough for me, and that he’d be an amazing parent. Now that he not only believed it, but had let himself want it, I was going to take it away? What would that do to him? To me? To us? Did I owe him the opportunity to walk away, or did he have it in him to take on yet another battle?

“I’ve only worked through dinner a few times since I started there,” I said.

“Nine times in six months.”

“I’m still the new kid.” I sighed. “I promise it won’t become a habit, but I have to prove myself.”

“I get it, Lake—I do.”

Of course he understood. He had plenty right to be upset that I didn’t always come home for dinner when I’d made it clear to him years ago that I wouldn’t accept him working a minute after I’d called him to the table. I wanted to be pissed at the universe and at my body for its defects—and at Manning for continually reminding me everything would work out the way it was supposed to.

He was always so goddamn understanding.

At times, it made me angry that he wasn’t angry with me. I wasn’t understanding.

Blue got up on all fours. Manning also sat forward. “Is she okay?”

She paced around the small space, coming over to sniff me and then Manning. I wasn’t sure she registered us beyond the fact that we were sitting there. “Her water broke,” I said. “She’s getting ready to have the first puppy.”

Blue went to her dish, lapped up almost all her water, and returned to her nest—then changed course and lolled into the whelping bed Manning had made.

He blew out a long sigh, as if he’d been holding his breath. Silence stretched as we waited. Even though I’d been through this before, and there really wasn’t much either of us could do, my heart began to pound. My girl was having puppies. By tomorrow morning, our family would have grown.

“I think I see something,” Manning said after a while.

I straightened up, craning my neck for a better view. “You do?”

“Come here.” He opened knees and gestured for me. “Come watch with me.”

I crawled across the hay and sat with my back against his chest. He held me from behind, squeezing me as the puppy crowned.

“Oh my God,” I said.

He hugged me to him, probably hearing the emotion in my voice. “Don’t you do this for a living?” he teased.

“Yes,” I said, “but never with my own baby girl. Thank you for making the bed.”

He kissed the back of my head, and we watched, rapt, as Blue gave birth to her first puppy.

“I didn’t expect to be proud,” Manning said.

Leave it to Manning to feel pride over the birth of a puppy. How would he react to bringing our own child into this world? Could words even describe it?

“I hope you realize I’m going to be in the room when you give birth,” he said.

My heart dropped into my stomach. He still held no doubts that time would come. Now, not only was I defective, but I was a liar, too. As long as I didn’t tell Manning about my visit to the doctor, I was keeping something important from him.

“You’re getting ahead of yourself,” I said.

“I just want you to be prepared,” he said, laughing. “They’d have to arrest me to keep me away from the delivery room.”

The more he spoke, the sicker I felt. If there even was a delivery, it might be years and tens of thousands of dollars away. The next step for us, my gyno had said, was in vitro fertilization. The thought of everything coming our way because my body was failing to do its job made it hard to breathe. I shifted to duck out from under him, but he held me where I was. “Where are you going?” he asked.

Anywhere but here. Anywhere I wasn’t staring disappointment in the face. “Blue needs more water.”

“But you might miss the next birth.”

“Luckily there’ll be more of them before the night is over,” I said.

“Sit with me a second.” He pressed the side of his face to mine, his familiar five o’clock shadow suddenly coarse and unpleasant. “Are we okay?” he asked quietly.

“You know the answer to that.”

“Yeah. We’re more than okay,” he said, “but you know it pisses me off when you’re pissed at me.”

I looked through the door at the stall across from us. When Manning had announced his plans to build a stable in our backyard, I’d giggled like a schoolgirl, teasing him about the time we’d gone horseback riding at camp. What were we going to do with it, though? Despite Manning’s help to overcome my fear of riding, I wasn’t exactly excited to get back on a horse, let alone own one. I doubted we could even afford a horse.

“I’m not pissed,” I said finally.

“Then that concerns me even more. If you’re not mad, what’s been going on with you lately?”

I slouched against him. I’d never be anything but happy with Manning. We’d fought against the odds and won. We’d gotten what we’d wanted, probably more than we deserved. Was it fair to ask for more? “Work stress,” I said. “Dealing with people’s pets is more emotionally taxing than I thought it would be.”

“I love that you care so much,” he said. “You can unload on me anytime, though. Maybe I can help.”

There he went being empathetic again. I shifted, the straw suddenly prickly through the seat of my jeans. “I just have to get used to it. Things’ll calm down.”

“Is that all it is?” he asked. “I can’t think of anything that would be easier to handle on your own when you could talk to me about it.”

I looked back at him as best I could. It was the perfect opening to explain why watching Blue give birth was hard for me, the reasons I’d been shutting him out lately, and the uncertain future ahead of us.

He just looked so proud. So hopeful. These puppies and the onset of spring signified new life, birth, prosperity. I’d have to break his heart soon enough, but it didn’t need to be tonight. I angled my chin up, and he kissed me once on the lips. “I’m fine,” I told him. “And I love you.”

He smiled. “Lucky me.”

This time, Manning let me stand. I picked up Blue’s dish and walked back to the house wondering how many more times in my life I’d come up against a question nobody should ever have to ask.

Was love alone enough?