him into his stall a few times, but he always promptly marched back out. If I shut him in, he fretted and paced. I couldn’t stand to do that to him, not after all the progress we’d made.
The temperatures had dropped to a point, though, that I needed to close his back door to keep the rest of the barn warm. It hurt me each time I closed the door, shutting him outside.
In the barn, Biscuit snored, lying down asleep. He didn’t seem likely to burst into conversation any time soon. Neither did Luna, on her side, her enormous belly rising and falling with her breaths. I hugged myself in my parka, then checked my watch. I had three minutes before the hour. I waded into Moonshot’s clean, knee-deep straw and opened his back door. Max snuggled close to me when I sat in one corner. Zuzu clambered onto his back and promptly fell asleep. Muriel snuggled into my other side, occasionally nibbling my thigh through my jeans. Gerald hopped into my lap, which prompted Gingersnap to sulk in the stall door.
“You two can get along for a few minutes,” I said. “It’s Christmas!” She opted to lie alongside Max. I closed my eyes and tipped back my head. I cringed to remember that last Christmas I’d had sex with Bobby even though I hadn’t really wanted to. He’d so rarely initiated it by that point that I’d known not to turn it down. I’d always had this bizarre belief that the coming-together would save us somehow. But I’d turned my head at one point and noticed the clock saying 12:07—why did I remember that?—and had thought, “If the animals talk, I’ll miss it.” I’d felt so guilty at that thought that I threw myself into the sex, giving an Oscar-worthy performance.
An exhalation of breath sounded so like one of Bobby’s deep sighs that I opened my eyes. Moonshot stood in the doorway, his neck craned toward us.
“Come on in. Join the party,” I whispered.
He stepped into the deep straw, snuffling around. He lowered his velvety muzzle to my nose. “Anything you’d like to say?” I asked. “Now’s your chance.”
To my amazement, he dropped his haunches to the straw. With a mighty groan he bent his knees, too, and lay down, his legs tucked in like a cat’s. He groaned again, a sound much like approval. Then he flopped onto his side, his neck and head in the fluffy straw.
Gerald stood in my lap and reached his one front paw to touch the tear on my cold cheek.
When I crept away—I’d closed his door partway, leaving a crack he could easily nudge open if he felt the need to leave—I carried Zuzu up to Gabriella’s bed.
Gabriella murmured, “Did they talk to you?”
My throat tightened. “Yes,” I whispered. “They did.”
WHEN GABBY LEFT IN THE MORNING, THE DAY STRETCHED before me without a single commitment until I went to Helen and Hank’s in the afternoon. I’d expected to feel sad, but instead I felt peaceful.
I found Moonshot still in his stall, as content as if he’d stayed there from day one. I took a chance and put his breakfast in his feedbox rather than outside. He ate it. Progress.
Maybe I simply had to ask for what I wanted. I resolved to do just that.
I broke down and called Vijay. I got his voice mail, as usual. I closed my eyes, savoring that deep, rich voice. “Hey you,” I said. “Good to hear your voice. This is the first Christmas since we were kids that I won’t see you. It doesn’t feel right. I . . . I really miss you.” I paused. What did I end with? “I—” I wanted to say I love you, but the pause grew too long, so I closed my phone.
I knew I’d done the right thing, but damn, did it have to hurt so much?
When my phone rang, my heart leaped. It wasn’t Vijay but Dubey. “You know what we should do?” he said. “Go sledding.”
We had a blast, careening down my back hill on Gabby’s old runner sled and a disk sled. Max, Zuzu, and Booker chased us, barking until they were hoarse. Muriel followed us, too.
We tumbled together in the snow at one point and ended up face to face, me on top of him. I was giddy, and it was on my lips to say, “May I kiss you?” when Muriel climbed on my back, rolling us apart.
Back in the house, I built