“That’s how I met you,” he reminded her, sliding onto the bed and leaning close enough to kiss her neck. She scooted away, leaning back to look at him dead-center, straight in the eyes. “I remember,” she agreed, some of the starch leaving her spine. “Yeah.” Her voice softened a bit. “Believe me, I’m not trying to be a bitch, but, you know, you’ve got a family now.” Her gaze touched his with the same intensity it always had, but there was something more. Though she was struggling to mask her hurt with anger, he saw it.

“This was the deal when we got married.”

“I know.”

“So you can’t be mad now.”

“Sure I can. The rules changed. We have a child.”

“Speaking of whom . . .” Montoya scooted off the bed and headed out the door.

“Oh, no, you don’t! Reuben! If you wake him up, I swear I’ll kill you,” she called after him in a stage whisper.

Montoya didn’t pay any attention. The door to the baby’s room was ajar, and he stepped inside, where the night-lights gave off a soft glow. Benjamin was sleeping, but Montoya didn’t hesitate to pick him up and carry him into the master bedroom, where Abby had unpaused the television. A laugh track was softly playing for a sitcom he didn’t recognize.

“I told you—”

“Shhh.”

Cradling the baby, Montoya slid onto the bed. Ansel meowed in protest, then hopped to the floor and slunk out of the room.

Little Ben yawned, showing off his gums, not opening his eyes. He had a head of dark hair, some of which seemed to be rubbing off, and pudgy arms and legs. He looked more like his father than his mother, but that could certainly change over time. Montoya hoped so.

Abby hit the MUTE button and the TV went silent. “Okay,” she said, “apology accepted.”

“Good.”

“But I still don’t like it.”

Theirs was an argument that had been brewing for months. “What do you want me to do? Hand in my badge? Become a security guard at the mall?”

“Don’t be silly. I just think you can get a safer job with the department, one where you have more regular hours.” She shoved a stray piece of hair out of her eyes and gently touched her son’s cheek. “What about a desk job?”

“I’d go nuts in two minutes.”

She sighed through her nose and rested her forehead against his, the baby between them on the bed. “Yeah, you would.”

“This is what I do, Abs. I get the bad guys.”

“And you love it.”

“Yep.” He saw a question forming and cut it off. “Don’t ask me to choose. That’s not fair. Apples and oranges. You and Ben, you know what you mean to me.”

“But—”