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Jake stands in front of the sink in a white button-down shirt and black pants. He holds up two ties in the mirror, silently choosing which to put on.

“Hey.” He smiles, catching my eyes in the mirror. “Good morn⁠—”

“Where are you going?” I ask, squinting.

“To work. I know we did this yesterday, but — one last time — blue or red?”

“Red. You’re going in now?”

“Yeah.”

“Why so early?”

He flops the red tie around his neck and stares into the mirror ahead of him. “Vin wants me there by six to go over a few last-minute things before the grand open⁠—”

“But we need to have sex!”

His fingers pause mid-knot. “We do?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because my hormones have spiked,” I say. “I’m dropping an egg at any moment here.”

He glances at his watch. “Will ten hours really make a difference?”

“I don’t know…” I stutter. “But I do know that I’m over thirty and my fertile window ain’t what it used to be. My cervical mucus is thin, white, and runny, meaning I have one or two days tops to⁠—”

“Anna, you really need to work on that dirty talk.”

I slide my shorts and panties down to the floor and hop up onto the counter in front of him.

Jake sighs as I tug on his belt. “Anna…”

“We’ll be really quick, I promise.”

I pull his shirt free and he groans softly.

“I just got that tucked the way I wanted it,” he says.

I kiss the edge of his mouth. “You can tuck it back in. I believe in you.”

“So, why are you late for work, Jake?” he quips. “Well, Vincent, you see, Anna is ovulating, and she demanded my seed.”

I shrug. “Sounds good to me.”

“Oh, it might sound good to you, but you’re not the one who has to tell your giant, mobster-killing, ex-SEAL boss that you just plugged his sister.”

I push his zipper down. “You’ll be fine. Just come up with a different excuse for being late.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know.”

“Eh— Eh—” He grabs my hands before I can get into his briefs. “Gotta pay up if you want extra sauce.”

My cheeks flush with frustration. “Tell him that there was an accident on the 93.”