When Jules woke up at one thirty in the morning, she was tempted to blame it on the time change. But she also woke up thinking about Vivian giving her permission to complain, so it couldn’t be that easy.

After tossing and turning for a good thirty minutes, she sighed in exasperation and looked up at the ceiling. Okay, might as well do something with all this awake time. Brainstorm another article? No. She didn’t have the brain cells for it.

She gave up and slid out of bed with a grunt and reached for her tablet. Time to go downstairs and read in that comfy-looking red armchair in the den.

Ten minutes later, she was ensconced in the chair with a fluffy throw covering her knees reading What to Expect When You’re Expecting on her e-reader app. Every once in a while, she paused to highlight something.

Vivian was around ten weeks along now. She might start showing soon, although the book said it was different for every woman; some had baby bumps at three months while others were only visibly pregnant at six.

She snorted. She imagined Vivian ordering her kid not to show, to keep herself slender for as long as possible.

It was about time for the first nuchal translucency ultrasound. It came along with some other prenatal tests. The book said that these tests were especially important for older mothers. Then it started saying things about increased chances of complications, long-term health risks to mothers, and lots of other stuff that made Jules’s heart fall.

Okay, she wasn’t highlighting any of that.

Jules should focus on things she could actually do something about. She picked up a notepad on the table next to the chair and took notes for a list of dos and don’ts that she could conveniently leave lying somewhere where Vivian would see it. No sushi, for starters, or aspirin. Lots of green leafy vegetables, and take the damn vitamins, and massages were good…and—

She opened her eyes. The tablet was on the ottoman, the notepad was lying on her lap, she’d dropped her pen, and Vivian was standing over her in a silk bathrobe.

She had a weird, un-Vivian look on her face. Her eyes were wide and her mouth was slightly parted. On anyone else, it would have been bug-eyed shock.

That didn’t make any sense, though. There was nothing to be shocked about, unless it was at Jules’s audacity at sitting in a chair, which would be a lot even for Vivian.

The expression vanished, and Jules scrambled to wake up more fully. It wasn’t easy. “Sorry. Time is it? I’m awake. Breakfast, I can fix. Um, I think I dropped a pen.”

Vivian sat on the ottoman, placing Jules’s tablet neatly on the floor. “Calm down. It’s four thirty in the morning.”