She looked quickly at the text once she’d made sure the boys weren’t watching her.

How r u holding up, Jeremy texted like a teenage girl.

If she hadn’t been driving she might have texted back, I feel like crap. Was there an abbreviated version of that? Probably CRP.

It was a sweet text, really. He meant because of Chase’s nightmare the night before. Lu had been up for hours with him. She knew she could have and should have been grateful for Jeremy’s concern but instead she was irritated: irritated that she’d been the only one Chase had wanted, irritated that she was always the one Chase wanted, irritated that it was only one out of approximately seven nightmares that Jeremy witnessed so that even when he was trying to be kind he never really saw the whole picture.

The evening had started benignly enough. Dinner, bedtime for the boys, a little television. In bed, Jeremy reached for Lu, rubbing her back, the back of her neck, the space behind her right ear. Lu recognized his classic seduction moves, but had an anxious feeling about being behind on the blog. If she was being honest with herself she’d been hoping instead that Jeremy would fall asleep early so she could sneak down and get some work done.

No such luck.

What had Queen Victoria’s mother told Victoria? Close your eyes and think of England? Okay, fine. Lu closed her eyes and thought of avocado-and-cucumber salad with a light balsamic dressing; of homemade lassi and tikka masala; of her author photo on the book jacket of her very own cookbook.

After, she lay in the dark, listening to Jeremy’s breathing, waiting for it to even and deepen so she could sneak downstairs for her laptop. Out of nowhere came the noise that meant Chase was having a nightmare. It always started long and desolate, like the lowing of a disgruntled cow, and progressed from there to a wail, and sometimes a shriek.

“I’ll go,” she said, already starting to rise from the bed.

Jeremy grasped her hand. His fingers were soft and warm against hers. “Don’t,” he said quietly, half asleep. “Stay here with me. He’ll go back to sleep in a minute.”

“He won’t. I can tell.” When Chase got really revved up he sounded like a fisher-cat caught in a fox trap; if he got to that point he’d wake Sebastian, and then nobody would get any sleep. Better to go now.

“Want me to go?” Jeremy was half mumbling—he had the medical school survivor’s gift of being able to sleep in any situation.

“That’s okay,” she whispered. “I know the drill.”

She was able to quiet Chase quickly, but she had to climb in bed with him to do it, and he threw one arm across her chest and kept it there before falling into a deep sleep. She thought again about her laptop. Every time she tried to slide out from under Chase’s arm he tightened his hold on her, and she didn’t think she could get out without waking him. It felt not so different from trying to work herself loose from Jeremy’s hand earlier so she could go to Chase. If she freed herself from Chase, would somebody else grab her next?