“Totally,” I say.

“It’s normal to be that horny when a guy like Nate Crane is looking at you like that.”

I follow Nix’s eyes to the other side of the bar, where Nate and Asher are sitting in a booth, and Nate’s eyes are glued to me. The girls look too, and Cally and Maggie fan their hands in front of their faces.

“Tell me again why you aren’t f**king him silly,” Liz says. “Because there are desperate, undersexed women at this table who are offended by that sexual tension going to waste.”

My cheeks burn as I study my virgin daiquiri, but Nix saves me by moving the conversation away from me and Nate again. “You,” she says, pointing an accusing finger at Liz, “don’t get to call yourself undersexed if you’ve recently f**ked Sam Bradshaw.”

“I’m sure he’d f**k you too if you asked,” she mutters. She waves to the waitress and holds up her empty glass, signaling for another drink.

Cally snorts. “I’m not so sure he’s interested in anyone but you, Liz.”

“We’re not surprised that you did it,” I say, nudging my twin under the table. “More that you waited so long.”

“It wasn’t the first time,” Liz grumbles, avoiding our eyes as the waitress hurries with her fresh martini.

“You had sex with Sam before and you didn’t tell me?” I squeak. “What else are you keeping from me?”

“Is he as good as the rumors suggest?” Maggie asks.

Liz scowls. “Why do you think I went back despite my better judgment?”

“Details,” Nix demands.

Liz takes a sip of her martini and licks her lips slowly. I can’t tell if she’s remembering or trying to figure out how to change the subject. Then Maggie gets struck with the same revelation I had at her party.

“You like him,” she whispers. “This isn’t just sex. You really like him.”

Liz shakes her head. “I’m a grown woman, and I’m done playing games. I want something real. Wicked-hot sex and handcuffs and the best orgasms ever aren’t really a foundation for a successful relationship.”

Across from me, Nix actually whimpers. “I really hate you.”

“Doesn’t sound so bad to me,” I say.

Liz shrugs. “I shared. On to someone else, please.” She looks to Maggie. “How about you? Can you share some dirty newly married sex stories for Nix to live vicariously through?”

“Do you really think I’m the kind of girl who would kiss and tell?” Maggie asks.

“Yes,” we all say in unison.

She snickers and turns in the booth to eye her husband across the room. When she turns back to us, she has that wicked smile on her face. “He’s still got it.” She turns to Cally. “And married sex is the best, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yes.” Cally grins. “But married, pregnant sex is even better.”

I sigh. “Lucky bitches.”

“Where are we?” I rub my eyes, trying to wake up.

After he promised he wouldn’t try to get in my pants again, I let Nate drive to my doctor’s appointment in Indianapolis. We had lunch afterward, and I must have fallen asleep on the way home. Now, we’re parked on the street in front of a house I don’t recognize, and the sun is sinking lower in the sky. We’re in the newer part of New Hope, in the recently developed area by the river where my mom and Asher live.

“Are we visiting someone?”

Nate doesn’t answer me. Instead, he climbs out of the car and walks around to open my door. When I step onto the sidewalk, I see a “For Sale” sign in the front yard and a “SOLD” magnet across the center of it.

I turn to him and narrow my eyes. “What is this?”

He shifts awkwardly and gives me a tentative smile. He actually looks nervous.

“What are we doing here?” I ask again.

The house is beautiful. Not as big as my mom’s and definitely not the size of Asher’s, but it’s a Cape Cod-style home with a covered wraparound porch and blue shutters.

I follow Nate to the door, and he produces a key from his pocket to unlock it. “Why do you have a key?”

“I know the owner,” he says, pushing through the front door.

Whoever sold the house must not have moved their furniture out yet, because right inside the door is a fully furnished living room—fluffy, overstuffed couches, oversized chairs, all situated around a soft beige rug.

I’m still not sure what we’re doing here, but I follow Nate into the kitchen. He turns on lights as I take in the dark cabinets, gleaming countertops, and shining appliances. The sink sits under a big picture window that looks out into a large, fenced backyard.

“Could you live somewhere like this?” Nate asks quietly. “It’s not right on the river like your mom’s and Asher’s places, but I thought this might be safer for the twins. You can let them run out back and play without having to worry about them going too close to the water.”

“Sure,” I say. “Someday, this would be great.” But this is a house for a family—a couple of kids and their parents. Not a screw-up single mom who loves two men and doesn’t deserve either of them. Someone with a steady job who can pay the mortgage, not a floundering new business. “For now, I’m fine in the apartment above the bakery.”

Nate shoves his hands into his pockets and his shoulders draw up around his ears. “No, you’re not.”