“We can’t afford a dog, Stasia. You know that. There’s just too much going on right now.”

“I think we can stretch the budget.” She set her purse down on the coffee table, dropping her keys next to it. “We can cut something from the wedding. Perhaps the open bar? It’s not like we need Uncle Silas drinking anyway, and you originally wanted a wedding without alcohol.”

“That was before Aunt Margie and her family accepted the invitations. That I didn’t send.”

“Don’t look at me. I didn’t send them. Talk to your mother about that one.” Her coat, intended for the back of the couch, landed instead on the floor. Sighing, Stasia picked it up and flung it again, this time scoring a point on the arm of the chair. She’d hang it up later.

“We can’t cut the alcohol. Trust me, Aunt Margie is far better drunk than sober.”

She sighed. “I can’t wait to meet her.”

“Trust me, you can.”

He plopped down in the couch, his coat still secure around him, his hat still on his head. They didn’t have much time before he had to leave again. “We’re getting off topic here,” she said, sitting on the edge of the couch next to him. “I think a dog would do us some good. We can keep it here for now until after the wedding.”

“I don’t think you understand.” He sighed and continued. “Things are tight. Especially with the wedding. The budget has been cut back as far as it can.”

“What about the promotion? You said you nailed the interview.”

“It isn’t guaranteed. And with everything going on with your work...”

“Things will pick up.” She smiled and grabbed his hand. He pulled away, taking her grin with him.

“I love how you’re the eternal optimist, Stasia. But you have to be realistic here. The economy is bad. Things everywhere are strained. There are no guarantees in life and we just can’t afford another mouth right now. Do you know how much a pet costs?”

“I’ll use my bonus money. I’ve been keeping it for a rainy day and here it is, raining.” She waved to the window and the drizzly weather outside.

He didn’t smile. He sighed again. “The answer is no, Stasia. Please don’t push this.”

She watched him lean his head back against the couch and close his eyes. His hand reached for the bridge of his nose and pinched, trying to help an obvious headache. Deep down inside, she wanted to understand, to keep her mouth shut and save it for a better time. “I hate it when you do that,” she said instead.

“Do what?”

“Treat me like a child.”

He opened his eyes and looked at her, confused. “I don’t.”

“You just did.” She longed to take back the bite in her voice. But she also longed for him to understand. “Just now, you shut me down. You cut the conversation short, telling me to drop it.”

“Stasia….”

The words already out of her mouth, the subject already brought up, she might as well continue. “No, you don’t even realize you do it. But you do it all the time. I’m not a child, Ash. I’m a grown woman.”

“I know you’re a grown woman.” There was no tenderness in his voice, only exhaustion. Exasperation. She winced.

“I don’t think you do,” she whispered. Standing, she picked her coat up from the chair and put it back on.

“Where are you going?” He didn’t stand up. He barely looked at her.

“For a walk.” Grabbing her purse and keys, she headed towards the door. Turning back, she said, “You know, if I were a child I would have bought the dog without talking to you. But I didn’t. I wanted this to be a joint decision.”

This time he stood up. “It is a joint decision.”

“No, it isn’t. You’ve already decided, Ashton. You’ve already made the decision and now you expect me to accept it. Just as if I’d gotten the dog without you and expected you to accept it. You shut me down and cut me off.” She opened the door.

“Stasia, wait.”

“I’m  going to take a walk to cool down. I’ll see you when you get back.”

Stasia shut the door gently behind her, listening to the definitive way the latch caught and clicked. It was the last time she saw him.