Think Twice

“Oh my God.” Alice forced a shocked expression. “What happened? You think he fell?”

“Must have. We need to get him to a vet. We can be at Pe

“Right down the street. I’ll go.” Alice bounded out of the kitchen, ran out the door, and hustled down the pavement. She didn’t need the dumb dog to screw up her plans, and he’d better die on the way to the hospital. She reached Be

“How’s that, old boy?” Grady gave the dog a soft pat, and Alice suppressed an eye-roll.

“Great, let’s go,” she said, and Grady jumped in the passenger seat. She hit the gas and shot to the end of the street, where she realized she had no idea how to get to Pe

“Sure, sorry, I should have thought of that.” Grady jumped out and ran around to the driver side, and Alice switched places with him, turning her face away to hide her not-tears.

“This is so horrible.” Alice tried to cry.

“I always knew this day would come. But not yet, not tonight.” Grady hit the gas and steered around the corner, sped across the Parkway, and headed for Eakins Oval, then took a right over the bridge.

“I walked him before I went to work, and he seemed fine.”

“Don’t blame yourself. He’s old, he probably lost his footing and fell.” Grady hit the gas, ru

“I guess he didn’t make any noise. He never makes a fuss.”

“Such a good dog.”

“The best dog in the world.” Alice felt trapped in a greeting card or maybe a fuzzy puppy calendar.

“Don’t worry.” Grady steered past Victorian row houses with Greek frat signs. “You know how good they are at Pe

No. “Yes.”

“They got him through that, they’ll get him through this.” Grady tore through Powellton, ru

“We lucked out on the traffic.”

“I’ll say. Hang on!” Grady zoomed up the street and at the top, steered into an empty parking lot in front of a modern building. The sign read UNIVERSITY OF PENNSYLVANIA VETERINARY HOSPITAL, and he cut the gas and put on the emergency brake. “You get the door, I’ll get Bear.”

“Okay.” Alice jumped out of the car, ran around to the backseat, and opened it while Grady scooped up the dog in a fireman’s carry. They hurried to the building, hustled through the lobby, and made a beeline for the emergency room. The registration desk was on the right, and a young female vet student behind the glass rose, concerned.

“Car accident?”

Alice shook her head. “No, he fell down the steps.”

“Has he been here before?”

“Yes. It’s Bear, my dog. I’m Be

“Stay right there.” The vet student hurried out of sight, and Alice wondered if vets could tell if a dog had been kicked, like doctors could with abused kids. Quickly a vet appeared with a large assistant, who took Bear from Grady and carried him away, back through the swinging EMPLOYEES ONLY doors.

“Thank you so much.” Alice watched them go with pretend emotion, and the student vet smiled in a sympathetic way.

“We need your permission to do an X-ray to see if he has any broken bones and to make sure he didn’t ingest a foreign object. We’ll let you know as soon as we learn anything. We’ll pull his records, and I’ll bring you the intake form later.”

“Thanks, take good care of him,” Grady said, as the vet student hurried off. He turned to Alice, and in the light, she could see how handsome he was, even with glasses. His eyes were large and light gray, his crow’s feet gave him a relaxed, almost intellectual look, and his hair was thick blond curls, like a halo. Plus he had a small nose, a strong jaw, and the most kissable mouth she had ever seen on a lawyer.

“I’m so worried.” Alice bit her lip. Tears magically filled her eyes. “I don’t want to lose him.”

“Everything’s going to be all right,” Grady whispered, taking her in his arms. “I’m so glad I’m here.”

“Me, too,” Alice said, holding him tight.

The only thing better than reunion sex is comfort sex.

Chapter Twenty-eight

Mary sat across from Judy on the floor, her back propped against the wall and her bare legs stretched out in front of her, on the worn hardwood floor. Her feet were bare, and she forgot where she left her shoes. She was comfortable, if only because of the third margarita. On the floor between them sat fragrant containers of lo mein, a red foil bag of spare rib bones, two dirty paper dishes with undersized plastic forks, and a hot laptop.

Judy picked up the tequila bottle, squinting at the label. “Mare, what does reposado mean? It’s Spanish.”

“Obviously, it means delicious.”

Judy smiled. “Good one.”

“My humor improves with drink.”

“So does your brief writing.”

“To us.” Mary raised her tumbler. “We did an excellent job.”

“We always do. The lo mein helps.”

“Every brief we’ve ever done together, we order lo mein.”

“It’s our secret weapon.”

Mary felt a warm rush. She loved hanging out with Judy. Her paintings leaned against the wall in vivid stacks, and the shelves held old coffee cans of washed paintbrushes and wooden boxes of oil paints. Somehow it looked right, even coordinated, with a big white four-poster with a funky gauze canopy. Judy was so talented in so many ways, and Mary would always be a little in awe of her.

Judy smiled. “You’re getting all melty again. What’s going on with you? You’re even more emotional than usual lately.”

“I know, right?” Mary’s throat went thick. “I’m not sure why.”

“Is it partnership? You worried about making it?”

“Yes, but it’s not only that. It’s Anthony, and the house thing. It’s hard, all of it together.”

Judy frowned. “I thought you were excited about the house. He was telling me about one you saw on Bainbridge, the trinity.”

Mary felt that twinge again. “It needs tons of work, and it’s so dark inside.”

“Tell me what’s going on.”

“Looking at houses with him, and moving in together, that’s great, but there’s questions to deal with. Can we look at houses out of our price range? What if I can afford a nicer house than he can? Do I put him on the deed? Is it weird if I don’t?” Mary thought a minute. “And what do we do, after we move in? Am I his landlord? Do I ask him for half the mortgage each month?”

“Lots of hard questions.” Judy looked serious. “You tell me. What do you want to do?”

“If I make partner, the difference in our income, the disparity, it’s just ridiculous.” The more Mary thought about it, the more uncomfortable she felt. Even telling Judy made her feel like she was ratting out Anthony. “He’s living on his savings, writing his book.”

“You guys talked about this, right?”

“A little.”

Judy shrugged, and melting ice tinkled in her tumbler. “So maybe you need to talk about it more.”

“That will embarrass him.”

“How?”

“Because it makes him feel bad that I make more money than he does.”

Judy half-smiled. “I think he’s aware of that.”

“So why rub it in?”

“How do you know he feels bad?”

“I can tell.” Mary’s chest tightened. “If we go out to di