“It’s lots of fun,” Derik said sarcastically as he handed us the Breathing through Birthing Pains pamphlet advertising the class. Landon had just rolled his eyes at his friend, but he insisted we go every Tuesday afternoon.

*****

I set down my paint brush as the baby moved around, pushing against my side. The farmhouse is almost done, only needing to be painted. I rub my side and murmur to the baby, “Cahal, Mommy’s trying to work. Go back to sleep.”

“It’s Marie.” Landon’s voice startles me.

“Goodness, Landon. You almost frightened this baby right out of me,” I huff.

He just chuckles as the leans his shoulder against the doorway. He nods his head toward the farmhouse.

“You almost finished with that?” he asks.

“Ugh, I wish. It seems your child is just as demanding as you are. Always pestering me for attention,” I tease.

Landon’s eyes light up at that. “It’s because she wants a dollhouse not a toy farm.”

Landon starts strolling about the room, looking through my art pieces.

“A toy farm is a universal toy for both boys and girls,” I say.

“Whatever you say, Beagchaithnini sneachta,” Landon says, not even bothering to look up from the portfolio he took off the shelf. A rush of warmth fills me at the nickname he gave me. One that he gave me before he even knew that I had no part in my father’s plan.

“Brooke, Brooke, Brooke,” Landon says, admonishingly, shaking his head as he put the portfolio back on the shelf, “you’ve been keeping secrets from me.”

My heart stopped. He could not know. How could he know? He does not know. Does he?

“Oh?” I say cautiously, intentionally keeping my back to him. I feel his chest press against my back. His hands brace against the table on either side of me.

“Mmmhmmm,” He murmurs in my ear. “You see, you draw everything under the sun. I find it very hard to believe that in all these binders, there’s not one drawing of me.”

A relieved gasp escapes me. “Ah ha!” Landon exclaims, mistaking my gasp for embarrassment. “I knew it. Where are you hiding it?”

“I can’t believe how conceited you are to think I would spend the time drawing you.” I try to sound exasperated.

Landon twirls me around so I was facing him. His arms still trap me to the table as he towers over me. “There is a drawing of me somewhere in this room. I’m sure of it.”

I bit my lower lip. Do I really want to show him? I am sure he would find them eventually.

Deciding to throw caution to the wind, I push on Landon’s chest and he steps back. I round the table to the locked drawer that holds his portfolio. The key is taped under the desk, and I quickly retrieve it and slide it into the lock.

Landon is holding his hand out, a smirk on his stupid smug face. I hesitate to give it to him.