We found a book with pictures of dog breeds, and I asked her to show me the kind of dog she wanted. I expected her to choose something little and cute. But when she saw the photo of an animal that looked like a huge, shaggy bear, there was no changing her mind. When it comes to stubbornness, she’s your daughter through and through. I found a good breeder in Springfield, and we came home with Captain. So far, he’s been a good boy. He’s very calm, doesn’t bark much, and is learning to go potty outside. He and Brianna are inseparable. He even sleeps in her room. So whether you like it or not, my darling husband, I’m afraid the dog is here to stay. Just know that your little girl is happy.

As for your big girl . . . Where should I begin?

It’s late here. Brianna and her new friend are asleep. I’m sitting up in bed, using a clipboard from your desk for a writing surface. The doors to the balcony are open to let in the fresh air. I know you’ve warned me about going to sleep without locking them, but I can see the full moon reflecting on the lake, and it’s so beautiful, I can’t stand the thought of shutting myself away from it.

After the last three weeks of having you here, this big bed feels cold and empty. I’ll never get used to having you gone, but I’m learning to accept it as the price of being your wife. And even though you spent a lot of hours at the office, didn’t we have a wonderful time while you were here? I loved taking the boat out on the lake and fishing for bass with Brianna. She was so excited when she caught a fish, and you made such a wonderful fuss over her—taking the fish home and grilling it for her dinner.

And the nights . . . oh, my sainted aunt, even the memory makes me blush! In the bed, in the shower, and even on the bedroom balcony with the moon smiling down on us—if the moon can truly smile. I know I was smiling at the time. Even thinking about it now makes me tingle—your body, the way you held me, the little sound you made when you climaxed . . .

We got pretty wild, which comes to the second reason I’m writing this letter (the dog being first). I was planning to keep the news to myself a little longer, but you know me. I’m no good at keeping secrets. So I’ll just end the suspense and tell you.

The test I bought and used was positive.

I’m pregnant.

The letter ended with a few affectionate lines. Allison folded the pages, slipped them back into the envelope, along with the photo, and buried her face in her hands.