“I thought I knew you,” I said softly.

I started walking back toward the car in the near dark, sinking into the crisp dry sand, tripping over the occasional piece of shadowy driftwood.

“Stop,” John said behind me. “Did I say anything when you just let your brother and your pregnant guest ride off into the sunset together? You don’t think that was your job to go with him?”

When I whipped my head around, I thought it might keep circling and circling like Linda Blair’s head in The Exorcist.

“I can’t believe you just said that,” I said. “Did you even talk to your sister on Thanksgiving?”

“I would have if she were staying with us,” John said.

Under the light of the flashlight, Horatio looked back and forth between us anxiously. In a minute he’d be down on the sand, covering his head with his paws.

Still, I couldn’t seem to stop myself. “Right. Easy for you to say, since she’ll never be staying with us. Your parents probably won’t even visit.”

John reached down to pet Horatio reassuringly. “Since you’ve already managed to fill every available nook and cranny, there wouldn’t be room for them anyway.”

We walked to the parking lot in silence. John’s flashlight beam was waving back and forth in front of our feet. It reminded me of one of those guys with the orange batons trying to keep a plane from crashing into the runway. Or into another plane. Maybe John and I were two separate planes heading right for each other. A single beam crisscrossing in front of us to keep it from happening seemed woefully inadequate.

When we got to John’s car, instead of unlocking it, he leaned back against the hood. He pulled out his phone, typed in his password. He searched, tapped in a number.

“I’d like to report an unleashed dog running around at North Beach,” he said. “This is the second time I’ve seen it. Unleashed.”

“I can’t believe you just did that,” I said as he put his phone back in his pocket.

John shrugged. “There’s a leash law. Plus, it’s for the dog’s own good. A coyote could get it.”

“That’s not what you’re worried about,” I said. “You’re worried about Horatio getting dog cooties.”

“It shouldn’t be loose,” John said. “And Marshbury Animal Shelter is a no-kill shelter.”

“Great,” I said. “Maybe I’ll move in there.”

I took off across the parking lot, swinging my arms, gulping down the damp night air. Maybe I’d just keep walking. Find a new little beach town where I didn’t know a soul. I’d meet a guy who was more like me, a guy who wasn’t a dog snob, a guy who would never talk me into buying my family house.