from the sitting room. “I suppose these things do run in cycles.” She held her hands out to the fire. “You’re sure you’re not married with five children at home?” He forced a laugh and then gratefully turned toward the whistling kettle. “Seven.” “Seven what?” “Kids.” She laughed, but it was a tight, mirthless sound. She doubted him. He had to come clean, had to tell her about Simon—at least the part where he was dead. Coburn had wanted to verify Simon’s death and parts of Max Duvall’s story before releasing any information to Simon’s loved ones. Nina still counted as a loved one, since Simon was the father of the baby she was carrying. Poor little thing—no daddy from the get-go. He poured the hot water over the tea bag and carried the cup to her, still curled up in the oversize chair. She thanked him and winked. “You’re not joining me this time?” “I discovered I don’t like hot tea.” “I have cold beer in the fridge.” “After the day I had, I’m going to take you up on that offer.” He returned to the kitchen and peered into the fridge at three bottles lined up on the shelf. “Are these all local breweries?” “I have three cases in the storage room and put one of each type in the fridge, just in case. They’re all good.” He grabbed a pale ale with an interesting label and used a bottle opener to pop the top. He settled into the love seat closest to hers, just like last night. Only everything between them had changed. “Don’t you think it would’ve been a better idea to have this baby in your home city with your friends around?” “I have friends here—a different type of friend, people who knew my parents, women who cooked for my dad during Mom’s illness—the type of friend that will be here for me when the time comes.” “You don’t have those kinds of friends in LA?” “I have good friends there, friends to lunch with, meet at coffeehouses, attend concerts with, but not the kind to watch a baby in a pinch or know how to put together a crib or who know a home remedy for colic.” She blew on her tea and sipped it. “Those people are here, and I need those people around me now.” “I’m sorry...sorry Simon’s not in the picture.” “I’m not.” She uncurled her legs and wiggled her toes. “Not the way he was acting. I didn’t need another unhinged person in my life—Lou is more than enough.” “That’s for sure.” He whistled between his teeth. “I couldn’t believe it when I saw her take a flying leap at you. I still think you could’ve taken her down, pregnant or not, if she hadn’t surprised you.” She rolled her eyes. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, but I’m not going to get into a brawl with my stepsister in the middle of the street.” “It makes sense that you kicked Simon out so quickly after what you’ve had to deal with in your own family.” She sucked in some tea and then choked on it. “I didn’t kick Simon out all that quickly. I encouraged him to get help. I called a psychologist friend of mine. I called the Department of Veterans Affairs.” “What was he doing? What was he saying?” “He’d come home from an assignment—” she circled her finger in the air “—he traveled a lot. Worked for the government but couldn’t talk about his job much. When he’d get home, he’d lock all the doors and draw the blinds. Sometimes he’d sit for days in front of the TV with a gun in his hand.” “You didn’t feel threatened?” “Not then. His anger and paranoia weren’t addressed at me. He kept saying we weren’t safe, that if they found out about him, they’d come and get him.” “Did he ever identify who they were?” He rubbed the stubble on his chin. This account sounded similar to the types of things Max Duvall had been claiming. “He never got into it, wouldn’t answer me.” Hugging herself, she continued. “Then the ranting started alternating with the