Brendan’s fever had kicked up brain fog. He started wrapping his arms around Deirdre’s waist while an easy, mirthful smile surfaced on his face. He was free and no longer had to pretend to be a b*stard in a suit.

“I’m hungry, Deirdre.” He cooed between panting. “Can you make me another veggie spaghetti, like the last time you made me? It was so good! I miss it now.”

Deirdre’s face turned white. What did he mean by ‘the last time?' Since when had she ever made him something like that? The last