I head to the living room and sit on the couch, my packed bags by my feet. Marian and her mom wait with me for Paula and Craig to show up. Baxter’s lying on the floor, his sad eyes looking up at me. He can tell there’s something wrong. Dogs always have a sixth sense about these things. He whimpered when Marian took him out this morning, stubbornly pulling on his leash. I have a feeling he thinks I’m leaving him behind. He’s probably going to hate being on the plane. He’ll probably hate Florida, too, but at least I’ll have him.

“They’re here,” Marian’s mom says as she pulls the drapes down again. “Now, remember, call if you need anything.”

“And I’ll see you in a couple weeks,” Marian replies.

Marian’s mom called Paula last night to see if it would be okay if Marian came to visit me during Christmas break.

It’s making an impossible situation just a tiny bit easier knowing I’ll get to see a familiar face soon.

Baxter starts running in his little circle. He started doing this his second day here. I think he’s waiting for Dad to walk through the door.

“Come here,” I call to him. For some reason I don’t want him enthusiastically greeting Paula and Craig. They haven’t earned that yet. “Baxter!”

He yips in protest as I pick him up and place him in my lap. He tries to wiggle out, always wanting to be the welcome wagon, but I hold on tight.

“They know you have a dog, right?” Marian asks.

Oh my God. Did I forget to tell them Baxter was coming? Does he need a plane ticket?

“We’ll figure it out,” Marian’s mom says as she opens the door.

There’s a little bit of tension as Marian and her mom meet Paula and Craig.

“Hi, honey. You look great.” Paula’s eyes flicker down to Baxter. “And who is this?”

Baxter finally has had enough. He gets out of my grip to greet them. He jumps on Paula, who takes a step back. “Oh, goodness, he’s lively.”

“This is Baxter. I think I forgot to tell you I have a dog.”

And there it is again. That look between her and Craig. That look isn’t good.

“Oh, honey …”

“It’s Ally,” I snap, knowing full well she can’t bring herself to call me by my name. My real name.

“Ally, sweetie, we can’t have a dog. I’m allergic. Your sister is allergic.”

Baxter’s tail is wagging happily, despite Paula’s refusal to pet him.

“Baxter can’t come?” My lip starts to quiver as I fall back down on the couch.