Two o’clock was late, though. Had he been unable to get to sleep, just like me? I could slip downstairs and sit with him while he played. That might help us both.

Then it hit me: maybe he wasn’t up late because he couldn’t sleep. Maybe he was up late because he’d been talking with Charlene.

I pulled the covers up and buried my head under the pillow. Anything to get away from the music.

He left for work early the next morning, so by the time I got up he’d already left the house. I put on a happy face for the kids, but as soon as I dropped Elizabeth off at preschool, Henry and I drove over to Felicia and Jackson’s house.

Jackson took Henry when we arrived and motioned with his head toward the bedroom. “She’s in there. Be careful.”

I was willing to bet I was in a bad enough mood to handle anything negative she had to say. And we’d known each other long enough for her to know my moods. Either that or Nathaniel was right when he told me I should never play poker.

As I thought, Felicia picked up on it as soon as I sat down next to her bed.

“Someone’s in a bad mood,” she said.

She was propped up in bed, surrounded by pillows and what appeared to be balls of yarn, tangled up in knots, somehow attached to knitting needles. I couldn’t tell if she had actually knitted anything.

I ignored her question and pointed to the unidentified blob of yarn. “What is that?”

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She shoved everything to the end of the bed and covered it with a blanket. “A very, very bad idea. Jackson thought if I taught myself to knit, it’d give me something to occupy my mind while I’m stuck here all day.”

“Didn’t work, huh?”

“No, the only thing occupying my mind is constructing new ways to torture him with yarn. Or knitting needles.”

I laughed. Poor Jackson. “How many have you come up with so far?”

“Forty-two. I wrote them down; want to see?”

I had a feeling she was serious. “I’ll pass.”

She shrugged. “I told him this was it. I’m finished after this one. The uterus is closed.”

“I told Nathaniel the same thing after Henry was born.”

“Not going to go for number three?”

“I don’t think the kids should outnumber the adults.”

“Yes, well,” she said. “It helps that Jackson never really grew up.”

“You wouldn’t want it any other way.”

Her smile gave away her thoughts before she spoke them. “No, I wouldn’t. I love the big oaf with all my heart. Only for him would I be doing this”—she pointed to her belly—“again.”

Felicia didn’t enjoy being pregnant. She said she could deal with it because she knew it wouldn’t last forever. I, on the other hand, thoroughly enjoyed both of my pregnancies. I loved putting my hand over my belly, feeling the life growing inside me. Knowing Nathaniel and I had created something bigger than ourselves.

“So tell me what you’ve been up to lately,” she said.

She wasn’t typically one to ask how others were doing. Her request caught me slightly off guard. But as I sat beside her bed, she daintily put her hands in her lap and looked for all the world like a queen. Her head tilted to the left a tiny bit.

“I’m not going anywhere. I have all day,” she said.

“I had a call from WNN. They had me come in and talk about a new position.”

One of her perfectly sculpted eyebrows lifted. “Oh?”

“On TV. Well, once a week at least.”

“What for?”

“A tie-in for the blog.”

She gave a low whistle. “It’s not enough to write about the kinky sex. You have to go on television and talk about it?”

“Felicia,” I chided. “We’re talking me. On TV. Some excitement would be nice.”

“Yes, and now when you walk down the street or go shopping, everyone will know you as the BDSM lady.”

“They’re going to disguise me.”

“Then you’ll be the mysterious BDSM lady.”

“Who won’t be recognized walking down the street or shopping,” I added.

“There’s that.” She narrowed her eyes. “Tell me what you’re really doing here.”

“I came by to see you.” My words sounded rushed and made up to my own ears. “Why would you even question that?”

“You’ve been twisting your wedding band the entire time you’ve been here.”

I looked down to see she was right. Without realizing what I was doing, I’d been rotating my wedding band between my thumb and forefinger. I turned the band one last time.




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