The Choice - Nicholas Sparks [11]
Sometimes she paused, and in those moments, Travis tried unsuccessfully to respond. But that didn’t work, either, because she immediately overrode him. Instead, he listened and—at least in those moments when she wasn’t insulting him or his dog—sensed a trace of desperation, even some confusion, as to what was happening in her life. The dog, whether she realized it or not, was only a small part of what was bothering her. He felt a surge of compassion for her and found himself nodding, just to let her know he was paying attention. Every now and then, she asked a question, but before he could respond, she would answer for him. “Aren’t neighbors supposed to consider their actions?” Yes, obviously, he started to say, but she beat him to it. “Of course they are!” she cried, and Travis found himself nodding again.
When her tirade finally wound down, she ended up staring at the ground, spent. Although her mouth was set in that same straight line, Travis thought he saw tears, and he wondered whether he should offer to bring her a tissue. They were inside the house—too far away, he realized—but then he remembered the napkins near the grill. He rose quickly, grabbed a few, and brought them to her. He offered her one, and after debating, she took it. She wiped the corner of her eyes. Now that she’d calmed down, he noted she was even prettier than he’d first realized.
She drew a shaky breath. “The question is, what are you going to do?” she finally asked.
He hesitated, trying to draw a bead on what she meant. “About what?”
“The puppies!”
He could hear the anger beginning to percolate again, and he raised his hands in an attempt to calm her. “Let’s start at the beginning. Are you sure she’s pregnant?”
“Of course I’m sure! Didn’t you hear a word I said?”
“Have you had her checked by a vet?”
“I’m a physician assistant. I spent two and a half years in PA school and another year in rotations. I know when someone’s pregnant.”
“With people, I’m sure you do. But with dogs, it’s different.”
“How would you know?”
“I’ve had a lot of experience with dogs. Actually, I—”
Yeah, I’ll bet, she thought, cutting him off with a wave. “She’s moving slower, her nipples are swollen, and she’s been acting strangely. What else could it be?” Honestly, every man she’d ever met believed that having a dog as a kid made him an expert on all things canine.
“What if she has an infection? That would cause swelling. And if the infection is bad enough, she might be in some pain, too, which could explain the way she’s acting.”
Gabby opened her mouth to speak, then closed it when she realized that she hadn’t thought of that. An infection could cause swelling in the nipples—mastitis or something like that—and for a moment, she felt a surge of relief wash through her. As she considered it further, however, reality came crashing back. It wasn’t one or two nipples, it was all of them. She twisted the napkin, wishing he would just listen.
“She’s pregnant, and she’s going to have puppies. And you’re going to have to help me find homes for them, since I’m not bringing them to the pound.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t Moby.”
“I knew you were going to say that.”
“But you should know—”
She shook her head furiously. This was so typical. Pregnancy was always a woman’s problem. She stood up from her chair. “You’re going to have to take some responsibility here. And I hope you realize it’s not going to be easy to find homes for them.”
“But—”
“What on earth was that about?” Stephanie asked.
Gabby had disappeared into the hedge; a few seconds later, he’d seen her enter her home through