“Maybe just to see what your ethnic background is? Find out where that black hair came from?” His mother was white blond, and Lauren wondered if maybe his father was Latino or Native American or Italian. “But it’s your call, of course.”

“Don’t . . . don’t do anything, Lauren. Don’t reach out to him or anything like that. This is not that sappy television show.”

“I won’t, honey. I was just curious.” She paused. “Also, I love that show.”

He looked at her sternly. “He’s a nonentity. The end.”

“Got it.” She tickled his ribs with her free foot. “If you promise to bake me a pie with those apples your mom brought over yesterday, I’ll have sex with you right here and now. Couch sex, and you know how hot that is, big guy.”

“Pie, huh?”

“Those apples aren’t gonna eat themselves.” She reached for his hand and tugged him closer. Pebbles groaned and rolled over on her back. “The dog read my mind,” Lauren whispered.

Josh smiled, and even though she was bone-weary, she knew she wouldn’t regret the next half hour. “Move the dog,” she whispered. “She’s a perv, and I don’t want her watching this time.”

They made love, laughing here and there, humor interspersed with reverence and lust and a little pride that they could make each other feel so good. After a cuddle, Josh got to work on the pie. Lauren took a shower and had a nap, then answered emails and did some tweaking on the new project Bruce had given her—a courtyard for a new condo complex. Fun.

The pie smelled like heaven, and Josh had cleaned the kitchen till it gleamed. Stephanie keenly believed cleanliness was next to godliness, and though Josh had been a slob when Lauren first met him, his mom’s genes were finally clicking into place. That and his fear that a random germ would make her sick.

“Dinner is served,” he said. “And please note there’s no sugar in here, because the apples were sweet enough, and the pie crust is made with whole wheat—”

“Don’t ruin it, babe. Grab a fork and join me.”

“It’s all for you.”

“I’m feeling kindly and big-hearted,” she said. “Come on! Share.” The truth was, eating too much made breathing more difficult.

Josh took a fork and started eating. No plates necessary.

A knock came on the door. “It’s Sarah!”

“Come in!” Lauren called, then coughed. Josh gave her a close look, assessing, always assessing. She wondered how much research he’d done on IPF while she was napping.

“I brought you a pie—oh, my God, it already smells like pie in here!” Sarah laughed. “Great minds think alike. Well, maybe you can freeze this sucker.”

“Sarah! You’re my best, best friend!”