“I’m sorry. I should have called. I went for a walk.” Then to a bar. She ordered a martini, then another, getting caught up in research on her iPad for her business idea.

He steps back so that he can peer at her. Fear brightens his eyes. “I’ve been trying to reach you. Anna said you left the office hours ago. I was just about to call the hospitals. Did you forget about tonight? It’s Thursday.”

Date night.

Joy’s gaze slides to the dining room. The table is set and taper candles lit but burned almost to the quick. She looks up at Mark, apologetic. She knows she should have come home and discussed her ideas with him, but she got caught up in the excitement of something new. Something for her.

“I got distracted. I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you. Have you eaten? I’m starved. I’ll tell you what I’ve been working on. My mind’s buzzing, I walked everywhere.”

“Food’s cold.” He crosses his arms. “I smell alcohol.”

She sets down her belongings. “I stopped for a drink.”

“Anna said you quit your job.”

“I did.” She drops her keys on the sideboard.

He frowns. “I thought you loved your job. You’re up for a promotion.”

“I got it and I don’t want it. But what do you think about me launching my own natural and organic soaps and salves business? Wouldn’t that be exciting?”

“You’re—” He paused and cocked his head to the side. “What about kids? We’re supposed to start trying again.”

“We are, and we will. Nothing says I can’t do both.”

He looks at the floor, then away, his expression troubled.

She gently touches his forearm. “What is it?”

“I wish you’d talked with me first. I want to support you with this . . . soaps and salves thing,” he says, rolling his hand. “But I worry—” He stalls out.

A nervous twinge tickles her throat. “Worry about what?”

“Nothing.” He reaches for her hand.

“Mark,” she pleads. “What is it?”

“Let’s eat. You can tell me about your business ideas over dinner.”

Two tequila shots in at the Inside Beat in Greenwich Village, Joy confesses to Taryn. “I quit my job and I didn’t tell Mark until after the fact. He’s upset.”

Taryn waves for the bartender’s attention and orders another round. “You aren’t one to talk, Joy. Even I have to pull your hair to get you to share your feelings. You’re an oyster with a pearl.”

Joy tosses back a third shot and reveals one of those pearls she’s kept locked tight. “I don’t know if we’re compatible anymore. He wants kids. I do, too, but . . .”

“You’re scared.”

“I’m scared I can’t give him kids, and I’m scared that I’m not ready for them.”

“Have you explained this to Mark?”