“It’s great,” I said sincerely. “Thank you so much, Sallie.”

“They’re kind of zonked.” She nodded toward the back of the Explorer. “You want me to put Deej in there?”

I held out my arms. “I’ll do it.”

His warm weight settled on my shoulder. I inhaled as I buckled him into his car seat, tucking Blankie around him. He smelled delicious, like sugar cookies and little boy.

“No,” Daisy protested as I lifted her into her car seat.

I let her lie on the comforter, smoothing back her bangs, kissing her forehead.

“Thanks for taking care of my kids,” I said to Sallie.

“Anytime. They’re adorable.”

I wanted to kiss her in gratitude. I swallowed instead. “Sallie . . . About last Saturday . . .”

“This is about Ned, isn’t it?”

“I . . . Well . . .”

“I knew he had too much to drink. Was he a total asshole?”

“No.” Oh God, no. “It’s just . . . We were flirting a little, and I didn’t want you to think . . .”

“That my husband was so insecure about his lousy sperm count that he’d hit on my best friend?”

I blinked. “Oh, Sallie. Oh, honey. Nothing like that. We were just talking.”

“He won’t talk to me,” Sallie burst out. “He says all I care about anymore is my fertility cycle. Like I’m the only one who wants kids. He doesn’t even want to have sex anymore. That’s why we’re going to Hawaii. I thought if we went away . . . Like he’s going to get it up after six mai tais.”

I didn’t know what to say. I hugged her. “I’m so sorry.”

She sniffled against my shoulder. “That’s okay. You didn’t know.”

No, you didn’t. Momma said the only people who knew what went on in a marriage were the two people in it.

And sometimes not even them. (An image of my parents arguing in my mother’s hospital room rose like a ghost in the back of my mind. “If I weren’t sick, you’d never talk to me at all.”)

I pulled a tissue from the pack I always carried and handed it to her. “Ned loves you. I’m sure he does. You guys will figure it out.”

“Thanks.” Sallie blew her nose. “Mother says if I’d just relax and stop stressing, I’d get pregnant right away.”

“Your mother is an idiot.”

Sallie gave a watery chuckle. “Thanks.” She dabbed at her eyes. “I feel better now that I’ve talked to somebody.”

“Have you guys tried counseling?”

“Ned won’t go. He says he’s sick of doctors asking about his junk.”

“He’s a guy,” I said, thinking of John. “It’s hard for men to talk about their feelings.”

“You’re so lucky being married to John. You two have the perfect relationship.”

“Even John doesn’t tell me everything.”

“At least your husband’s not off getting drunk at parties.”

“No, he just spent all evening with the waiter.”

“What?”

Flushing, I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter.” Except it did.