“Some snowball fight you had out there tonight,” Suzanne said.

Ted set a cookie on a napkin. “This is Nick Cox,” he said, and slammed his fist down on it. Bits of cookie crumbled under his hand, but the cream filling kept it mostly intact. He shrugged, popping what was left of the cookie in his mouth.

“Want me to kill him? I could blame it on raging hormones,” Suzanne said.

Ted shook his head, serious. “Killing isn’t—”

“I was kidding.”

“Oh.”

Ted was such a sincere fellow, someone you could depend on. She imagined that he’d been like a middle-aged man even when he was a child—sensible, organized, conscientious. “Did you collect stamps when you were a kid?” Suzanne said.

“Coins. Want to see them?”

“No,” Suzanne said.

“Okay.”

“Now, if I’d asked you if you wanted to see my coins, would you have said yes?” Suzanne said.

“I’m interested in coins.”

“What if you weren’t? What if I collected bugs? Would you say yes anyway?”

“I like collections.”

Suzanne laughed. “What’s the biggest lie you’ve ever told?”

He considered.

“There must be something.”

“I couldn’t watch Jillian being born. I told Allison I did, but I closed my eyes.”

“Grant made a video of my delivery. I asked him not to.”

The overhead light went on. In walked Allison in her bathrobe. “I thought I heard a party. Can I join?”

“We were complaining about our spouses. Well, one of us was,” Suzanne said.

Ted took Allison’s hand and kissed her palm.

Suzanne wanted that. The comfortableness they had between them. She would never have it with Grant. They approached life’s demands so differently: She took action. He ran from it. It was becoming more and more obvious with time. She smiled at them, wistful.

Allison took a sip of Ted’s milk and a bite of a cookie. “Mm. Chemicals.”

Suzanne could feel a contraction starting up again. It solidified and seized hold. She held the mound of her belly with her hands, but she couldn’t hold back the tide.

“Are you all right?” Allison said.

“Braxton-Hicks,” Ted said. “False alarms.”

Allison looked impressed. “Since when are you an obstetrician?”

Suzanne’s midsection radiated pain. It crawled around to her back, making her cry out.

“You sure they’re false alarms?” Allison said.

“No,” Suzanne cried, her mouth becoming a tiny O.

18

JANUARY 11