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“Oh. Okay. My bike is still there, anyway.”

“I’ll drive us in the van if you want.”

“Sure. Thanks.”

It was a ride not to be resisted, driven by instinct and need. The second we were through the door of Stig’s condo, I went straight for the vinyl room. Selecting the right record from the shelf, I placed it on the player.

“Happier Than Ever” filled the massive speakers.

“Holly? I’m really glad we’re both back here together again,” Stig said.

“Me too.”

Stig held me from behind as the table turned and the tears started to fall from my eyes, wrecking my makeup. Getting to the couch, he held me as I wept tears of pain and catharsis, finally letting go of the shadows that had haunted me for so long.

Scooping me into his arms, Stig took me where I needed to be— into the warm water of the bath, cleaning me in all the ways I needed. He even took the time and care to properly remove my makeup, which was wrecked anyway.

“I want to take you out, but I need to sleep first,” he said. “I just got back from Europe, after all.”

“Of course.”

Once I was fluffed and dried, he took me to bed with him, cuddling me under his heavy duvet until neither of us was conscious anymore.

I woke up in the dark, with no indication of whether it was morning or night. The clock was showing the time on its neon glow face: seven o’clock. That could have gone either way but the sounds of the traffic outside made me think it was seven at night.

“I want to take you out,” Stig said, popping open an eye of his own and confirming my sense that it was evening time.

“Okay.”

He could have said almost anything, and I’d agree.

I was just so glad he was home.

We both got ready, and I even did his hair. He thought it looked great, and I wanted to tell him how Jonna had told me I could have a long maternity leave and start doing hair and makeup when I got back, but then I remembered I hadn’t even told him I was pregnant.

A lump formed in my throat as I finished applying my makeup, worried about how Stig would take the news.

This would really make or break things between us.

But I knew I had to tell him.

“Are you good to drive?” he asked me.

“Of course.”

Back in the saddle, this time for good, I took us into town, with Stig holding me close.

“A table for two,” he said, at a fancy restaurant downtown.

“Right away, sir.”

The well-dressed host winded through the tables to get us to the best one in the house. It was as if Stig had cast some kind of spell on him.

“How did you do that?”

“Clout, I guess,” Stig said, looking as baffled as I felt.

Quiet violins found their tune as indoor fountains bubbled, imitating their outdoor sisters.

“I could eat a horse,” Stig announced.

I wasn’t pay the best attention, still nervous about telling him I was pregnant.

“Oh?” I asked, wondering if he’d said something about what he wanted to eat from the menu.

“I’m kidding,” he clarified.

“Oh, right,” I said, realizing he must have made a joke about eating a horse. “Of course.”

“I could eat a lot, though.”

“Me too.”

I couldn’t remember the last time I ate. It was probably sometime before Keith sent me spiraling. No wonder I was hungry.

“Want me to order for you?” he asked.

“Please. Sorry I’m not more talkative.”

“Don’t.”

“What?”

“Apologize,” he told me. “You’ve had a shock. You can’t be expected to go back to normal right away.”

“Normal— that would be interesting.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Of course. Sarcasm is my defense mechanism.”

“Congratulations. Most people aren’t aware of that.”

“Self-scrutiny, yeah, I’m good at it. That whole barrel of monkeys.”

“I don’t know about monkeys, but a bit of self-awareness never hurt anyone. Socrates said the unexamined life is not worth living.”

“Well, if Socrates said it, it must be right.”

“They did kill him, after all,” Stig said. “He must have been onto something.”

It was indestructible logic, to which I had no possible retort. When the powers that be wanted to kill you, it was almost certain that you were right. Things only got to that point when people posed a threat to the status quo.

Breaking the silence after a while, Stig ordered champagne, a mood of celebration suddenly prevailing. My eyes almost bugged out of my head when I saw the price, especially because I knew I couldn’t drink it.

I assumed he had ordered it because of the Keith situation coming to an end. Except there was something else, just below the surface of it all, news nearly as big as mine that kept coming sharply back into view.

“I have something to tell you,” I announced to Stig.

“Something good?” he asked me.

“I certainly hope so.”

“Uh oh.”

“How about I just tell you, and then we decide?”

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