From the corner room with the toys, Emilio cried.

Thank God for the interruption.

At the end of the third day, Nick came home around five p.m., whistling and looking happy and carrying a big brown leather bag that could’ve been a purse or one of those things guys use.

Felicia said, “You want me to pack that, too?”

“Not necessary. Looks like you’ve made excellent progress, Felicia.”

She had. Getting through most of the clothing, everything folded and organized perfectly by color and fabric.

She bragged about it. “Silk with silk, linen with linen.”

Nick flashed his big, white smile. Removed his glasses and looked at her with clear brown eyes.

Felicia loved the fact that she could please someone. Her own happiness was an elusive thing, she knew Stuart wrote as often as he could but…

Nick said, “Why don’t you take a break?”

Cool fingers grazed the nape of her neck. When had he moved close enough to do that?

Felicia drew back, feeling the scorch of her cheeks. Wondering if she’d done something to let him know what was flying through her head…

His smile turned crooked. “I’m going to look over these boxes, see if there’s anything I want you to change.”

“I hope there’s more work,” said Felicia. “You’re a great boss.”

Why had she said that?

Nick laughed. “Boss? We’re two people who’ve reached an agreement. Take a break, Felicia. Go chill by the pool, drink something, you’re sweating.”

Running a finger along her arm.

She shivered. “Sure.”

He closed the door to the master bedroom and she went to the kitchen, brought a Diet Peach Snapple outside, along with a carton of strawberries from the collection of luscious fresh fruit Nick had bought at the Country Mart this morning.

She stretched out in a lounge chair. The same one she’d imagined Nick in. Stretched and yawned and half a bottle of tea and seven berries later, the sun did a number on her head.

When she awoke, the sky was dark and her watch said she’d been out for thirty-five minutes.

Now she’d have to bus back later than she liked, walk those streets where gangbangers sometimes cruised.

Omigod, Emilio hadn’t eaten dinner!

Then why wasn’t he crying?

She hurried inside to the toy room.

No Emilio.

She called his name.

Heard a funny sound — like a bird when its wings were restrained.

From the master bedroom.

Rushing there, she found the door closed.

Opened it.

Nick had pushed boxes out of the way and created a narrow space where Emilio now sat in his stroller. Surrounded on three sides. Like her baby was being walled in.

He saw her and wailed, “Maaamaaa!”

Nick said, “Poor little guy, he woke up cranky.”

She turned to him. Gaped.