“Of course, sweetheart.” Sugar knelt, smoothing Asal’s combed hair and tucking it behind her ears. The little girl beamed, and Sugar’s heart exploded with pride and hope. Then she stood and focused on Nicola. “Were you able to find out anything about the husband?”

Nodding, Nic said, “Hadn’t touched. Actually, never met her. Her brothers had died in an explosion, mother in childbirth, father in the field. An uncle shouldered the responsibility of raising her, but wanted her gone. Traded her, like a dowry, for some grain and a goat.” She looked at Asal. “Earmuffs.”

Asal wrapped her hands over her ears.

“I figured being around Titan, we needed to watch out for what she hears.” Nicola scrunched her shoulders. “Anyway, I want to kill the motherfucker. A goat?”

A quick gesture, and the earmuffs were dismissed. They walked into the living room. Asal babbled in another language, and Sugar loved the sound. Letters and words, soft and lyrical, twirled through the air.

Nicola coughed, suppressing a giggle, and nonchalantly tossed her head the direction of the floor.

Goddamn condom wrapper. Sugar’s cheeks flushed, and if Asal weren’t nearby, she would’ve cursed Jared’s name.

“I see Jared’s stopped by.”

Sugar saw no point in lying. The ride from Afghanistan had more than clued her in to the topic du jour. Everyone thought they were knocking boots. Why deny it now that they had?

Nicola said something Sugar didn’t understand, followed by a slow English version, complete with hand motions. “Wash your hands. We will eat soon.” Asal ran down the hall, and Nicola pierced Sugar with a stare. “I knew it. And I so want the details.”

“Nothing to say.” Sugar picked at a cuticle.

“Bull-flippin’-shit.” Nicola snorted, her hands on her hips. “There’s a condom—in your living room.”

Sugar stepped over the metallic wrapper, as if hiding it with her foot would make the conversation disappear, as well.

“Spill, Sugar.”

She rubbed her temples. Jared was her headache even when he wasn’t the problem. The foil scratched the sole of her foot. If he hadn’t left that there, the conversation would be a non-starter. It was his fault. She rubbed her temples again. “First and last time. Fun and done. Nothing to say other than that.”

“First time…” Nicola’s nose wrinkled in thought. “On the floor of your living room?”

“We weren’t going for the most romantic of moments.”

“I’d say.” Nicola did a piss-poor job at hiding her grin.

Sugar bent over, grabbed the wrapper, and pitched it. “Thanks for the clothes. They’re—”

“Oh no, no. You’re not getting out of this convo that easy.”

She shrugged, feigning a bored expression. “Seriously, nothing to spill.”

“Details. Give me at least one juicy detail. Don’t make me beg.” She steepled her hands in prayer.

Shit. Shit. Shit. “I don’t know.”

Nicola wasn’t letting it go, and she prompted, “The man who considers himself the master of everything was… Work with me here, Sugar. I’m dying.”