She Bet I Wouldn't Leave,So I Vanished

I was changing my shoes in the entryway. My voice stayed level. “Don't bother with the guest room. The apartment's yours now, take your time settling in. Grace, we're done.”

Henry's eyes reddened at once. “Elmer, this is all my fault. I'll leave right now, please don't joke about the wedding.”

But Grace put out a hand to stop him, her eyes going cold. “Let him go.”

She leaned against the doorframe, her voice holding down a fire. “You walk out that door today, don't expect me to come coax you back. Come home and apologize within three days, and I'll pretend none of this happened.”

I pulled the door open.

Grace spoke again. “Elmer, don't count on me to smooth things over with your parents. When they start asking, you can explain it yourself.”

My steps stalled for half a second.

For three years my mother had told everyone she'd landed a wonderful daughter-in-law, holding the liquor and cigarettes the Gilberts gave, laughing until her face flushed in front of the relatives.

Grace knew I was afraid of letting them down, so every time she could hit my weak spot dead on.

Henry twisted the knife softly. “Elmer, your parents adore Grace so much. Isn't this a little selfish of you?”

I turned back and looked at Grace. “Changing the name on the invitation, bringing him to meet my family, letting him sleep in the master bedroom, is that me being selfish too?”

Grace fell silent for a beat, then quickly recovered her arrogance. “We'll deal with all that later. Don't stand in the doorway putting on a show. For whom?”

I set the keys down on the shoe cabinet.

Grace finally saw them, and the space between her brows twitched, barely noticeable. “You're leaving these behind too?”

I said, “You just said yourself the apartment was your money. Since even the master bedroom has someone new in it now, it wouldn't be right for me to keep this key.”

Her face darkened instantly. “Elmer, do you really have to make everything so final?”

I didn't answer. I wheeled my suitcase into the elevator.

Just before the doors closed, Grace's voice chased after me. “Elmer, once you walk out that door, don't think you can beg me and get it back!”

The elevator went down. I tossed the spare key card into the trash.

On my phone, Director Shelton from the shelter had sent a message. “Elmer, the National Geographic documentary team is coming tomorrow to shoot some charity footage. Could you help out one more day before you leave? They happen to be hiring a highland medical consultant, and I think you'd be a great fit.”

I replied with an okay.

The screen had barely gone dark when Henry's social feed refreshed.

He was standing at the master bedroom's floor-to-ceiling window, captioned: “After all the wandering, finally back in the place where my heart feels safest.”

Early the next morning, I took my suitcase to the shelter.

I changed into scrubs, the familiar smell of disinfectant washing over me.

I was bent over the last post-op puppy, turning down its heat lamp, when a burst of noise came from the yard.

Director Shelton walked into the treatment room wiping his hands, his expression grim. “Elmer, the documentary team was supposed to be filming, but Henry's people muscled their way in.”

My fingers went still. “Who approved that?”

Director Shelton lowered his voice. “The sponsor called in a favor at the last minute, said he's got a compassionate image to film. Grace came too. That director from the documentary, Ms. Graves, her face went dark. She's standing off to the side with her camera, smiling coldly.”

I walked out to the yard. Henry stood in front of the kennels in a clean white shirt, the cameras circling him.

He bent down to pick up a yellow puppy that had just been spayed. I clamped a hand on the cage door. “It's less than twenty-four hours post-op. You can't hold it.”

Henry looked up at me, his smile all innocence. “Elmer, I just want everyone to see how cute it is. If people love it, that's when they'll donate.”

Grace stood off camera, frowning. “Elmer, don't make this ugly.”

I stared into her eyes. “The wound hasn't healed. If something happens to it, who takes responsibility?”