Chapter 1The Price of Buddy

The day after the stick turned pink, Mark’s entire family descended on our house.

They came bearing casseroles and unsolicited advice.

They sat there, lecturing me on how to be the perfect incubator.

During the chaos, Mark’s nephew, a brat named Tyler, took a shine to my dog, Buddy.

He wouldn’t let go of him, squeezing him tight.

He looked up at me and asked, "How old is the doggy?"

I smiled, trying to be patient.

"If you do the math, he’s your big brother. He’s fifteen years old."

Mark’s mom, Brenda, scowled immediately.

"Don't talk nonsense," she snapped.

"Comparing a beast to my grandson? You’ll curse the baby to come out looking like a mutt."

I bit my tongue.

After lunch, I was drained.

I made myself an iced latte and retreated to the bedroom to recharge.

They chatted downstairs for a while.

Eventually, I heard the front door close.

Silence.

But something felt off.

Buddy usually hated when people left.

Normally, I’d hear him barking at the door, or he’d come trotting in to nudge my hand for a treat.

Today?

Dead silence.

I got up, calling his name.

Nothing.

I checked the living room.

Empty.

A cold knot formed in my stomach.

I rushed to the window and looked down at the driveway.

There was Tyler, sitting in the backseat of his dad’s SUV.

He was holding Buddy.

My blood ran cold.

I tore open the window and screamed.

"Put my dog down!"

They all looked up.

Brenda waved dismissively. She signaled her other son, Hank, to drive.

"Go, go!" she mouthed.

Hank actually started the engine.

I didn’t think.

I just reacted.

I grabbed my half-finished latte and hurled it out the window with everything I had.

It exploded against Hank’s windshield.

A creamy brown mess blinded the glass instantly.

He slammed on the brakes.

Mark, standing in the driveway, looked up at me in horror.

"Are you crazy?!" he yelled.

I sprinted downstairs and out the front door.

Brenda started yelling at me, but I ignored her.

I pounded on the car window.

"Unlock the door! Give me my dog!"

Brenda grabbed my arm. "The kid likes the dog, just let him have it!"

She looked at me like I was the unreasonable one.

"You had your fun with it. You’re pregnant now, why do you need a filthy animal?"

"He is fifteen years old!" I screamed. "He is not a toy for a child!"

Inside the car, Hank looked at his mom, exasperated.

He cracked the window just an inch.

"Ma, get a rag or something for the glass. Get her to calm down."

That was it.

I snapped.

I took my phone and smashed it against the glass.

Over.

And over.

And over again.

"Put the dog down! He is mine! You have no right!"

Spiderwebs of cracks spread across the window.

Mark rushed over, gripping my arm hard enough to bruise.

"Have you lost your mind?" he hissed.

His face was twisted in embarrassment.

"You’re making a scene in front of my family."

"I’m the one making a scene?"

I was shaking violently.

"You’re my husband, and you let them steal my dog behind my back?"

"I Googled it!" Mark yelled back.

"Toxoplasmosis! Dog hair! It’s bad for the baby! I’m doing this for our child!"

"Shut up! Your mouth is filthier than any dog!"

Hank, worried about his precious car, finally unlocked the doors.

I ripped the back door open.

Tyler was clutching Buddy, wailing at the top of his lungs.

"I want the doggy! Auntie, give him to me!"