She was still awake when Gabe got home an hour later but pretended to be asleep. He was quiet as he got ready for bed. When he sat down and swung his legs in, she opened her eyes. They were both lying on their backs. “Oh, hey,” she said.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“No problem. Have fun?”

“Yeah, it was okay,” he said with no real enthusiasm. There was a long moment of silence.

“Listen, Rena,” Gabe said. “I get where you were coming from earlier. I do. And I’m not happy about Shannon’s husband. It just seems to me that ever since we agreed to go down this path and selected Shannon, you’ve been looking for a reason to get out of it.”

The bedroom was dark and she was grateful for that. She’d never had a great poker face and now she was confident that he’d know that he’d hit close to home. Gabe had always known her best. And right now, he deserved honesty.

“You might be right,” she said. “I’m sorry about that. Because it’s taken time and money. But the closer we got, it just...didn’t seem right. Not for us.”

“I don’t care about the time or the money. You know that, right?”

“I do.”

“Not everybody has to have a child,” Gabe said, his voice gentle. “We will be happy still.”

He was right. Of course. But under the covers, she slid her hand so that it rested on her abdomen. The emptiness seemed to radiate through her entire body.

“What do you say that we wait, put this discussion on hold for at least six months?” Gabe suggested.

It wasn’t forever. But her eggs would be six months older.

Why couldn’t this be easy for them? It was for so many people.

But those thoughts swamped her with guilt. Life wasn’t easy for Troy and Leah Whitman right now. Or Elaine Broadstreet. Or Alice Quest. Or anybody even remotely connected to Emma Whitman.

Life was just hard sometimes. And feeling sorry for yourself wasn’t helpful.

She turned on her side to face him. Could feel him shift, too. And when she was in his arms, knew there was no place she’d rather be. “We’ll be okay,” she said, her mouth close to his ear. They would be. Could be.

“Damn straight,” he said as he bent his head to kiss her.

By seven on Sunday morning, A.L. and Rena were at their desks. Blithe and Ferguson were also in. Faster’s office was empty. The chief was likely on the golf course.

“I got the list of all other abductions or attempted abductions at or near day care centers from across the United States for the last twenty years,” A.L. said. He tossed it across the desk.

“That’s a lot,” she said. “More than I expected.”