She glanced at the cover, then burst out laughing. “Really?”
He groaned. “No.” Then he glanced at the cover.Iron Curtain Stealth.“I need to start actually looking at books before I pick them up around you,” he muttered under his breath.
“Oh?”
“Last time we were in this stack, I accidentally signed outThe Lady Loves a Necromancer.”
Her eyes went wide. “And?”
“It was pretty good.”
She laughed again. He’d been craving that sound and he didn’t even know it.
“I returned it a while ago. You should see if it’s available.”
“I will.” She reached into her bag. “On a professional note, I drafted some points I’d like our committee to consider making a public statement about. Do you have a few minutes now to discuss them in advance? If we have common ground, it might be easier to get buy in from everyone else.”
Kerry was, by far, the most progressive member of their committee. Owen was glad she’d pushed to be included on it. He might lean more conservatively in terms of resource allocation, but he couldn’t fault her optimism or commitment to public health.
He took the note, their fingers brushing for the briefest of split-seconds, and read it over. They were more than solid ideas—they were brave and fearless, but each bullet point was carefully constructed to focus on patient safety. “These are great. You’ve got my support.”
“Excellent.” She glanced past him. “Now, where did you find that necromancy book?”
* * *
When Owen got homefrom work Friday night he immediately noticed something was up with Becca. She was acting a little strange, a little distant, and someone was blowing up her phone. He hoped to hell it wasn’t Hayden. The kid had come around twice for brief visits, but pre-season training had started, and well, there were only so many commitments a nineteen-year-old jackass could juggle at once.
“How did Charlie nap today?” he asked, rocking the sleeping baby as she bustled around the kitchen.
That she had dinner sorted out was also strange.
“Fine.”
“Did you nap?”
She didn’t answer him, because she was buried in her phone again.
“Becca, did you hear me?”
“Yeah, Dad.” She blinked at him, set her phone face down on the kitchen counter, and crossed her arms. “I heard you.”
“What did I ask?”
“Probably something you didn’t need to worry about.”
He shook his head. “I don’t think you heard me.”
She sighed. “Yes, I napped.”
He laughed and threw his free hand in the air. Charlie didn’t stir. “So you did hear me.”
“I told you that I did!”
“But then—”
“It’s called boundaries, Dad. We need them. You don’t need to worry about my every waking second, you don’t need to check on me and see if I’m parenting exactly the way you did.”
“Is that what I’m doing?”
