I glare at Sam, who is wearing his “I ate some pie” apron and attempting to cook meatballs. He’s got them in a pot on the stove, simmering in tomato sauce, but he’s babysitting them too much. Every thirty seconds, he lifts the lid of the pot to stir them.

While he’s been cooking, I told him the whole story about what happened today, about how I got called into HR thanks to Monica. But he doesn’t seem to get it.

“Yes, she ‘saved the day,’” I admit. “But she wouldn’t have had to save the day if she had left the job like she was supposed to. It really got me in a lot of trouble. Denise hates me.”

A smile twitches at Sam’s lips. “Maybe you shouldn’t have emailed her that she was a bitch.”

I groan. I’ll never live that down. I told Shelley what happened, and she couldn’t stop laughing. This isn’t funny. This is my career. Maybe we’ve got enough money to get by without my salary, but that doesn’t mean I want to give up everything I’ve worked for.

“I just feel like this is a bad sign,” I say. “If she’s going to go back on our agreement about work, what else will she back out on? Giving us the baby?”

Sam opens the pot and peers down at his meatballs. “She won’t.”

“How do you know?”

“She said she wants to focus on her career right now. And maybe go back to school at night after all. Possibly to study graphic art or maybe math—maybe both. Either way, she can’t do that with a baby.”

I narrow my eyes at Sam. “And when did she say all that to you?”

Any trace of a smile fades from his lips as he quickly busies himself with the pot again. “What?”

“It just seems like you know a lot about her plans for the future, that’s all.”

Sam fiddles with the knob on the stove. “We had lunch a couple of days ago.”

Well, great. My husband is having lunch with a young, attractive woman who happens to be carrying his baby. And he’s lying to me about it. “Were you planning on telling me about it, Sammy?”

“It wasn’t a big deal,” he mumbles.

“Then why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I knew you’d make a big thing of it.” He shakes his head. “Look, Monica is at a crossroads in her career and I want to help her, you know? That’s part of what I do—advise students.”

“Yes, but she’s not your student! She works at my company. Don’t you think if she really wanted advice, she’d come to me?”

He lowers his eyes. “I think you intimidate her a little.”

“I intimidate her?”

“Yes, that’s what she said.”