I know I’m pathetic, but I can’t seem to stop. I know I’m doing the right thing, the thing my family needs me to do.
So why does it feel so wrong?
At least I have Kevin, who delivers unconditional love in the form of damp piggy kisses and snorts that tell me he appreciates my affection. Or maybe he’s just hungry, since he’s intent on eating everything in sight. Three days in, I catch him devouring a bar of peppermint soap. In a panic, I call Jade at the reindeer ranch when I remember she’s a vet.
To my relief, she just laughs. “He should be fine. Pigs love peppermint. Can you read me the ingredients on the soap?”
I do, and she assures me all will be well. “He might foam at the mouth, but he’ll be okay,” she says. “And at least his breath is minty fresh.”
In the background, I hear her husband saying something. Jade laughs and tells me she needs to go. “Of course,” I say, shoving back the sharp pang of envy in my chest. “Thank you.”
Despite an overwhelming urge to call him, I avoid dialing Bradley. It’s better this way, a safeguard against getting more attached.
But as the days drag on, I suspect it’s not that simple.
On the morning of Jon and Blanka’s wedding, I wake with my face stuck to my Egyptian cotton pillowcase. Fingering the seam, I remember Bradley lying beside me, his hand stroking the soft cotton as his other traced the contour of my hip.
A quiet snort at the foot of the bed reminds me that Kevin crept up in the middle of the night. I pat the pillow and instantly he joins me, nuzzling his sweet, bristly body against mine.
“I hate this,” I murmur against him. “How do you get used to saying goodbye to people? Your last home and your foster home and then here, and I’m already failing you.”
Kevin oinks softly and nuzzles my face, making me cry harder. I’m still at it when my phone buzzes on the nightstand. I roll over and grab it, hoping to see Bradley’s name on the screen.
Mother: We need to discuss the wedding.
I close my eyes and set the phone down unanswered. I’ve told her about Jon and Blanka’s ceremony, but I know that’s not the wedding she means.
The last thing I need on the day of my brother’s wedding is to talk with my mother about mine, so I reach over and switch the phone off completely. Stroking a hand down Kevin’s plump side, I ponder how on earth I’ll stand there at the front of the chapel for Jon’s ceremony with eyes swollen shut from tears. Grabbing my phone again, I switch it back on and pull up Bree’s number.
Any tips for de-puffing eyes quickly?
The bubbles appear almost immediately with her response.
Hangover? Poor sleep? Tears?
I hesitate, then type my one-word reply.
Latter.
Her response is almost instant.
Meet me at the spa in 15 minutes.
I’ve avoided telling her about the breakup, but she’s probably guessed. Bree doesn’t miss much, but I didn’t want to put a damper on family festivities before Jon’s wedding. Instead, I pasted on my regal smile through family luncheons and rehearsal events.
But it’s inevitable now. Bree’s going to take one look at my face and know something’s up. With a sigh, I heave myself out of bed and dress quickly in designer loungewear. I’ve got plenty of time to prepare for the ceremony, so I may as well be comfortable for this spa date.
As I drag a brush through my hair, I turn to Kevin. “You know how we’ve talked about my brother’s wedding?”
He sits down and tips his head to one side, oinking in earnest.
“Right, so there’s a problem,” I admit. “I’m not sure about leaving you alone yet, but there’s only one person I know who’s not attending the wedding.”
A person I’d prefer not to trust, though I’ll grudgingly admit he’s shown good rapport with my pig. When we crossed paths yesterday, Dante knelt on the damp path and looked deep in Kevin’s eyes.
“You’re a good pig,” he said in Dovlanese, scratching beneath Kevin’s bristled chin. “A lot like Elias.”
Kevin grunts and nuzzles my hand, dragging me back to the present. I clip on his leash and away we go, trudging down the walkway that leads past the spa and over to the farthest cluster of guest cabins. The air is crisp and bright, with tiny ice crystals clinging to the grass. The lodge is far enough from here that I can’t hear the bustle of wedding preparations, but I know it’s happening. I smell roast meat and something faintly vanilla, and there’s an energy in the air that wasn’t there yesterday.
Stepping onto Dante’s porch, I lift my hand to knock. Before I can, the door flies open.
His brows knit together below his bald pate. “What the hell happened to you?”
“Nice to see you, too.” I hold out the leash. “Could you please pig-sit today?”
He folds his arms over his chest and ignores my outstretched hand. “What for?”
“Because you’re the only person I know not attending Jon’s wedding, and I’d like someone to keep an eye on him.” Feeling guilty for speaking sharply, I temper my tone. “Please. I know you like animals. And I know he reminds you of your childhood pet.”
His expression softens as he looks down at Kevin. My piggy pal flutters his lashes and grunts.
“Fine.” With a sigh, Dante grabs the leash and wraps it around one meaty fist. “I might have to go out for a few minutes, but I can take him with me.”
I bite my lip and survey the room. “Are the guns put away?”
He eyes me with bemusement. “Kevin knows how to use a firearm?”
“Dante, just please keep him safe.”
He sighs again and rubs a hand over his smooth scalp. “Fine. For the record, the guns are in a safe. Odds are slim your pig can guess the combination.” An odd look passes over his face. “Or maybe he can. Pigs are damn smart.”
“Thank you.”
I turn and start to walk away, but Dante’s voice stops me. “You okay?”
Squaring my shoulders, I nod without turning around. “I’m fine.”
He’s silent behind me, so hopefully that’s it. I start walking again.
“Isabella. Izzy.”
That gives me pause. He’s never called me by my nickname, not once. “What?” I turn to face him, surprised to see his expression is…sympathetic?
“What?” I ask again, crossing my arms over my body. “I’m expected at the spa right now, so—”
“Be careful.” His brow furrows like he’s considering his words. “You’ll be with Deadeye at the wedding?”
It takes me a moment to realize he means Bradley. “Yes.” I hesitate, not wanting to give anything away. “We’re seated at the same table for the reception.”
He nods, eyeing me closely. “You have my number if you need anything.”
That gives me pause. “What is it you think I’d need from you?”
One corner of his mouth twitches. “A pig sitter.” He slams the door before I can respond, punctuating the end of our conversation. I stare at his door a moment, wishing I’d said thank you once more. He’s doing me a favor.