She keeps asking me about applying to medical school like I have to lift a finger. I don’t. It’s already taken care of. There’s power in the Westcott name. I just don’t know how to tell Lark that, along with the life of privilege I’ve led, the road ahead is paved in gold. It is what it is.

Rolling onto her back, she rests her arm across her forehead. “Are you awake, babe?” she whispers.

“Yeah,” I say, keeping my voice fitting to the hour. Moving to face her, I can see her eyes are clenched closed. I reach over and rub her stomach. “Are you okay?”

I receive a nod, and then she squints her eyes and looks at me. “No, it hurts.”

I sit upright. “What hurts?”

“My body.” Staring at her, I roam her body as if I can find the pain source. She manages a slight smile. “Down there, Harbor.”

“Ah. Yeah . . . About that, I should have given you some ibuprofen before bed.” I flip the covers off and hurry into the bathroom. I’m popping the bottle open when she comes in behind me wearing my discarded T-shirt.

“Can I take a bath?”

“A bath?” I ask, looking back over my shoulder like I don’t understand the meaning of the word. I’ve never taken one here before.

“I think the hot water will help.”

“Sure. Let me get it going for you.” I start the water, push the stopper in, and then reach into the cabinet to grab a towel for her. “You should probably sit, or will that hurt?” She’s eyeing the hard lid of the toilet like it offended her. Setting the towel on top, I add, “This will help.”

She sits down slowly, and asks, “What time is it?”

“Almost two.”

Resting her head on the cabinet, she yawns. “Tomorrow is going to be rough.”

“Maybe we should play hooky?”

Her head pops up. “I’ve never played hooky in my life, Harbor. I try to be cool like you, but I just can’t get there.”

I chuckle and hand her two pills. “You’re the coolest woman I know. I’ll be right back.” Walking back into the kitchen, I pour a glass of water and return with it. She takes the pills while I check the temperature of the water. I don’t know about taking a bath with no bubbles. I’m not a bath guy, but I’m pretty sure that Lark will want it to be like in the movies.

Remembering my mom once gave me a bottle that I promptly buried at the back of the cabinet, I search for it. Success. I open the lid to smell it. “Does bubble bath go bad?”

“I wouldn’t think so. Let me smell.”

Her eyes widen, and she grins. “Ooh, I love eucalyptus and mint together.” Teasing the hem of my shirt on her hip, she says, “Wanna join?”

I glance at the tub. “I don’t think it’s big enough for both of us.” Taking the bubble bath, I start pouring it in.