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“Hey, Daddy?” Ivy’s little voice comes across the speaker, sounding upset, and I stop walking.
“Hey, pumpkin. Everything okay?”
“Waffle is gone,” she wails.
I resume my walk, getting to my car as fast as I can. “What do you mean, gone?”
“I let him out in the backyard to potty, and the side gate was unlatched. He got out, and I can’t find him.”
“Okay, baby, I’m headed home now—”
“It’s raining, Daddy. He’s going to be cold and lonely. We have to find him.”
“I know, baby. I’m going to look for him on my way home. We will bring him home; don’t worry.”
“Okay,” she says, her voice small as she hiccups.
I can’t handle it when she’s upset. She deserves the world, and it’s time for me to make it right. I can’t let Waffle get away. I took Alice from Ivy by not being open and honest about my feelings. I’ve let my fear get in the way for too long, and I have to try and change it. I need to let Alice know how I felt—how I still feel. And it needs to be personal, not in front of an audience.
I was an ass for never being upfront about things, for holding her at arm’s length. I was an ass for using her to scratch an itch and never realizing that the whole reason she scratched it and no one else could was because she was my person, my other half, mine. I can’t go another day without telling her that, no matter the outcome. She deserves that at least.
“I called Alice, and she’s going to come help us,” Ivy says.
My eyes widen as I clear my throat. I guess this is a sign that I’m talking to her tonight. Leave it to my daughter to bring us together again.
“I’m glad, pumpkin. We need all hands on deck.”
“What does that mean?”
I can envision her wrinkling up her nose as she turns the phrase over in her mind.
“It just means that the more people, the better our chances of finding him.”
“Okay.”
“I’ve got to go, sweetie. I’m leaving the hospital. I’ll be home soon. Go ahead and put your boots and raincoat on.”
“I will. Love you, Daddy.”
“I love you, Ivy.”
She hangs up, and I leave. I head home while keeping my eyes peeled for our not-so-mangy dog running loose. My heart is racing as I think about seeing Alice in just a little while.
What am I even going to say to her? Is it going to be awkward? What the hell am I even thinking? Of course it’s going to be awkward.
I see a flash of something white in the distance, but when I get closer, I see it’s just the end of a car and not our dog. I’m nearing home with no Waffle in sight, and my heart sinks, as I know that Ivy will be so distraught that I haven’t found him.
I pull into the driveway next to Alice’s car. She beat me here, and I don’t feel at all ready to face her. But we’ve got bigger problems right now. I’ve got to put aside my feelings until Waffle is found, and then we can talk. I hope. She might slap me and immediately leave. While I pray that’s not what happens, I need to prepare myself for every outcome.
Before I can even open my door, the garage door rises, and Ivy and Alice dash toward my car underneath an umbrella. Alice makes sure Ivy gets in her booster in the back before slipping into the passenger seat beside me, closing the umbrella and stowing it on the floorboard along with his leash.
Good thinking.
“Hi,” she says a bit breathless.
I look at her under the light in the car before it clicks off, bathing us in darkness.
I finally find my voice after staring at her. “Hey,” I say. It comes out gruff, probably more than I intended.
