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laughed and said, “You’d better get started!”
    To her surprise, Pauline had discovered she liked the idea of a little girl in a dress with a wide silk sash, throwing a tea party for her dolls. Pauline had trouble envisioning a baby, but she could see a daughter at age five or six—after the mess of diapers and formulas and spit-up was over.
    Did Dwight wonder why it was taking so long, too? Maybe he was beginning to suspect that Pauline had a problem, that a life with her wouldn’t be the one he was counting on.
    The natural thing to do would be to go to a fertility doctor. But she couldn’t. She knew there would be questions she couldn’t risk Dwight ever learning the answers to. She covered her mouth with her hand, feeling nausea rise up through her throat.
    The irony didn’t escape her that she was feeling ill for a reason that was the precise opposite of the one she’d hoped.
    Her nausea passed and she stood up, flushed the toilet, and washed her hands. Then she walked back into the boardroom. People were waiting for her.
    “What did I miss?” she asked, forcing a smile as she slipped into her seat.

C hapter Two
----

The Night Before
    “WHERE’S MY LIST?” TINA asked as she dumped a pile of warm laundry on the bed.
    Gio didn’t look away from the television. “Which one? You’ve got a hundred.”
    “Four,” Tina corrected, picking up one of his legs, peering under it, and letting it flop roughly back onto the bed. “One with everything I need to pack for us. One with everything I need to pack for the kids. One with the kids’ schedules and all the emergency numbers to give to Allie’s mom. And one with everything I need to do before we leave. And that’s the one I can’t—”
    She snatched a piece of paper from under Gio’s other leg and smoothed it out.
    “I’ve got to give a spare key to what’s-his-name,” she said. “We’ve lost all the spares. We’ll have to take it off my key chain.”
    “Who’s what’s-his-name?” Gio asked.
    “The kid down the street who’s going to walk Caesar and get our mail,” Tina said. “The one with the pierced eyebrow.” She was jotting something on a piece of paper as she talked.
    “Tell me you’re not writing another list,” Gio said. “And a pierced eyebrow? He’ll drink all my beer the first night.”
    Tina looked at him, sprawled on top of the bedspread, one arm bent behind his head. Her husband was so sexy, with his black hair, heavy eyebrows, and tan skin—genetic gifts from his Italian ancestors. He was only five-foot-seven, but perfectly proportioned, with the shoulders and chest of a weight lifter, a benefit of his very physical job. Six years ago, she would’ve caught one glimpse of him lying there in his faded Levi’s and launched herself on top of him like a nimble Russian gymnast.
    But right now, annoyance dueled with her desire. Why couldn’t Gio understand that watching him unload the dishwasher was as big an aphrodisiac as watching him flex his washboard abs?
    “You know what would really help me? If you helped,” she said. “C’mon, fold this laundry so I can get the kids packed.”
    “Jesus, baby, I just got home from work,” Gio said. “Can’t I relax for ten minutes?”
    Tina exhaled slowly. Gio knew those words were a trigger for her; did he think she didn’t work all day long?
    “You’ve been relaxing for almost an hour,” she said, working hard to keep her voice level. “Let’s just get this all done so we can both relax.”
    “After this show,” Gio said, turning up the volume.
    Tina snatched the remote out of his hand and hit the Mute button.
    “What’s your prob——” Gio began, but Tina shushed him.
    “Did you hear that?” she asked.
    He shook his head.
    “I think Sammy was coughing. Oh, God, I hope he’s not getting sick.”
    “Baby, he’s fine,” Gio said. He reclaimed the clicker and turned the television back up.
    Tina felt a knot in her stomach as she moved closer to the