"You would know that things didn't work out with the job in Philly," she went on. "Or the boyfriend. So I'm back in New Roch.e.l.le. They gave me my old job back at Sparklet."

Leo winced. Jen, living in New Roch.e.l.le? This was not going to be good.

"h.e.l.lo? Are you still there?"

"Yeah, I'm here." He rubbed his knuckles against the bristles on his chin.

"We must have a bad connection because I didn't hear you jumping for joy. This is the part where you say, 'Welcome back, Jen. I missed you.' And I say, 'Thanks, Leo. I missed you, too.' "

"Honestly, Jennifer? I've moved on."

"Everyone moves on. But I'm sure you can still find some time to see your old friend."

"I'm busy. Between work and the baby, there's no time . . ." And if Chelsea hears you're back in town, it will put her over the edge. Chelsea knew all about his ex-wife's borderline personality. She'd been dating Leo when Jen was still stalking him, leaving notes on his car and sneaking into his apartment until he changed the locks. Chelsea had always been cool about it, knowing that Jennifer was a part of his past that preceded her. She also knew that he'd never given Jennifer any play since the divorce, but that didn't make it easier to deal with the psycho ex.

"Your stroller is adorable, with those little green elephants on it," Jennifer cooed, as if she were talking to a newborn. "Chelsea isn't looking so good, but she never was big on fas.h.i.+on. It got me thinking, though. I'm sorry we never had a baby."

Leo winced. Thank G.o.d that never happened.

"It would have been a little bit of both of us." Her voice was low and seductive now. "A little bit of you for me to hold on to forever."

A way for you to tighten the noose around my neck.

"It wasn't meant to be," he said. "We weren't a good couple, Jen."

"But don't you ever think about what would have happened if I didn't lose that baby?"

His hands gripped the wheel, white-knuckled. Jennifer had gotten pregnant once, but she had miscarried in the first few weeks. Thank G.o.d. A kid between them would have made it even harder to extract her from his life, and they wouldn't have done the kid any service, being split up and fighting whenever they saw each other.

"You've got to live in the here and now," he said. "And I've got to go."

"Okay, but I'll see you around. Now that I'm back in town we just might run into each other."

He heard the threat in her singsong voice. "Don't plan anything, Jen. I'm counting on you to give us some s.p.a.ce."

"It could be a coincidence!"

"Good-bye, Jen."

"See you around."

Leo cut the connection, vowing not to let Jennifer ruin his good mood and the evening ahead. He was going on a date with his wife and best friend, and Jen wasn't going to spoil their evening together. He would worry about her tomorrow or next week . . . or some random day when she leaped out in front of him at the hardware store with a slightly mad gleam in her eyes.

Jennifer was a problem he could handle later.

Chapter 7.

It was all so random.

The day had dawned full of hope, then plunged so low she felt sure it would be the last day of her life. Then, hours later, the skies had opened up and served Chelsea a slice of blue heaven. In the purple light of dusk she found herself dining with her husband, surrounded by soft music and laughter and the smell of warm bread.

Seated beside Leo in a booth with a view of the dancing flames in the restaurant's gas fireplace, Chelsea allowed herself to fantasize that they were vacationing at a mountain lodge-just the two of them. He looked so handsome-like a clean-cut lumberjack in a flannel s.h.i.+rt-and she actually felt like a woman again in a royal-blue V-neck sweater that brought out the color of her eyes.

While they'd waited for a table, she caught a glimpse of an elegant woman in the window with s.h.i.+ny dark hair and sumptuous curves that couldn't be masked by a black jacket. When she turned her head and the woman turned at the same time, she realized it was her.

So she didn't look as bad as she felt. She had nodded at her reflection-a small nudge of encouragement.

They had left Annie in the care of a professional baby nurse, whom Leo had found through an agency two months ago. Helen Rosekind was crazy expensive, but capable and tidy. "She seems to like Annabelle," Leo had said as they drove off.

"Baby nurses have to act that way," Chelsea had countered.

"Well, Annie likes her," he had said.

Annie likes everyone, except her own mother, Chelsea had thought, but she let it drop. The farther their car had traveled from the house and the baby, the lighter she had begun to feel.

The spell was lifting. The short break was giving her room to breathe.

The waiter arrived with their appetizers-roasted-pepper tapas and crab cakes-and the cloak of doom lifted as they turned their attention to the food. Chelsea loved the tapas-sweet and just a hint of hot.

"I wish we could make roasted peppers at home." She spooned a dollop of minced peppers onto a small disk of bread. "But you really need a gas stove to do it right."

"I wonder what it would cost to bring in a gas line."

"Mmm . . . and we could bring it over to the fireplace, so we'd have a fire at the touch of a b.u.t.ton. Better for the environment, too."

Leo swallowed, studying her. "Uh-oh. The wheels are turning."

"Did someone say kitchen renovation?"

Leo swiped a napkin over his mouth. "We don't have the money for that right now."

"But if we could bring the gas line in cheaply . . . I wonder how much of that I could do myself? I mean, of course I wouldn't mess around without a plumber on the big stuff. But I could patch the walls, inside and out. There's a lot I could do. And it would increase the value of the house. . . ."

Chelsea saw herself standing at a gas stove in their kitchen, holding a pepper over the burner until its skin bubbled brown as the aroma suffused the air. Gas was the only way to cook.

"It would be good for me to have a project. Something I could write up for the magazine." She craved her old life. She would do anything just to get a piece of it back.

When she'd left her job, she planned to write in her spare time-while the baby was napping. So far, there hadn't been any spare time. Well, not really. When Annabelle took the rare nap, Chelsea fell into bed, too exhausted to think straight.

But it didn't have to be that way. Tomorrow, when Annie dozed off, she would open her laptop and start researching the cost of a gas line.

"It would be great if we could swing it," Leo said. "I just don't want to give you any more pressure than you already have."

"But that would be a fun job." And she definitely felt up to it. Tonight she felt pretty and independent again.

Alive.

Later, while they were eating their entrees, Leo reached his fork over to give her a taste of the lobster with vodka sauce, and a drop of creamy sauce fell to her chest. It missed her sweater, plopping on bare skin just above her cleavage.

Seeing that no one was looking, Leo wiggled his eyebrows mischievously, stuck out his tongue, and swooped down to lick it off.

The gesture was more comic than sensual, and they both shook with suppressed laughter.

"Tasty," Leo said triumphantly. "Let's see the chef try to top that one."

"I guess I'm one of today's specials," she teased, noticing how broad his shoulders looked in his flannel s.h.i.+rt. Such a soft flannel. If she pressed her face to it, she might never again lift her head.

Chelsea took a leisurely breath, relaxed by the warm air and red wine she'd sipped from a beautiful round gla.s.s. Sitting here, caught by his smoky brown eyes, she remembered why she had fallen in love with him. Silly and serious, proud and humble, Leo possessed the contradictions that fascinated her every day. She smiled.

"Now that's the Chelsea I know. When was the last time I saw that smile?"

"When there was just the two of us and I could sleep through the night."

"Ah, sleep. Such a beautiful thing." He swirled the red wine in the fat gla.s.s. "You haven't been getting enough. I'm sorry, honey."

She shook her head. "Sleep is just one part of it. I miss our old life. The quiet. The freedom to do what we wanted whenever we wanted. Even the stupid things, like the luxury of a quick shower and then flying out the door without a diaper bag or a million instructions to the sitter."

"Yeah. You really get the brunt of it, having Annie all the time."

"I never thought I'd say this, but I miss work. I miss having a cubicle to go to. The whole office scene with people to talk to. I want to commiserate with the other staff about the bad coffee and the weather. Chat about kids and in-laws and movies and TV shows. Buy bad candy bars for fundraisers and take people to lunch for their birthdays."

"Please . . . I had to buy two chocolate bars last week for Mitch's kid. They're still sitting in my desk drawer." He scratched the center of his forehead, where the creases formed when he worried. Annie had those creases, too, though Chelsea wondered what she could be worrying about. "But it will get better," Leo promised.

"I don't want better. I want my old life back."

Without Annie.

She couldn't say it, but the unspeakable words buzzed in her subconscious.

Without Annie.

She longed for her life before the baby. She wanted to turn back time and get a major do over.

"Wow." Leo looked down at the table. "I can't imagine life without Annabelle anymore. The house would feel weird without her. You don't think about it before you have a kid, but they just fill every minute. When you're not doing something for them, you're watching the stuff they do or trying to interpret their squeaks."

As Leo described the things Annabelle did that fascinated him, she ran her thumb over her water gla.s.s and tried to find the same enthusiasm in her soul. She wanted to love her baby. But when she searched inside . . . there was nothing but pain and resentment.

"But here's the thing. I know we're in different places right now." He took a sip of wine, swallowed, those worry lines creasing his forehead. "I talked to Emma while you were getting ready-just for a minute-and she told me that Volmer wasn't so helpful. She mentioned your breakdown on the ride home."

Chelsea winced. "Let's not ruin our night out."

"Just give me a minute and we'll get off it. I just have to say this." He covered her hand with his. "Honey, you're suffering. I see that. The depression and the visions . . ."

She pressed her fingertips to her temples, as if she could hold on to her composure as guilt blew over her. Of course, she had told Leo about the bad visions. . . .

He would have been an idiot not to notice when she hid away the kitchen knives because she imagined them flipping through the air and landing on Annie, slicing clean through her body. And the stretch of days when she refused to use the oven because she kept imagining how Annie's little body would fit inside.

"What you're going through, it's more than anyone should have to bear."

Her throat was getting tight. She didn't want to do this here . . . not now. She didn't want to think of that growing mountain of insurance statements and doctors' bills in the corner of the living room.

"All I'm saying is, I think you should go to this appointment with Emma's doctor. Even if we have to pay, it's worth the money to get you better. Screw the insurance. We'll dip into our savings if we need to. Okay?"

"Our savings?" Her hands dropped away as she faced him. "You would use our savings on a doctor?"

"Of course. Whatever it takes . . . whatever you need, honey."

His compa.s.sion made Chelsea want to cry. He was so sweet. She had married a good guy.

"What if Dr. Volmer's little pink pills help?" she asked.

"He's not really addressing the problem. He wouldn't even order a blood screening."

She swallowed back the knot in her throat, taking a swig of wine for good measure. "I'll try Emma's doctor. I hate to blow our savings, but Emma said she would help."

"We'll figure it out."

With Leo beside her, promising his help, hope seemed as real and solid as his hand on hers. Maybe he was right.

As their entrees were served, she dreamed of mornings spent on the kitchen project and afternoons spent writing about it. She could imagine the momentary buzz of success when she stood beside a plumber, turning a switch to spark the flame of a new gas stove. She could see better times and happiness ahead.

The only problem was that she could not see Annabelle in that picture.

Their magical night ended all too soon. A trip to the ladies' room revealed that the pads in the cups of Chelsea's bra were damp; she would have to either feed the baby or pump soon. Disappointment was a bitter taste on the back of her tongue. She didn't have an ounce of freedom.

"No dessert for us," she told Leo when she returned to the table.

"No problem. I'll get the check." He was good-natured about things. Sometimes she wished he would join in her anger at the futility of trying to have a life of her own.

But not Leo. He talked about Annabelle's cute habits as they drove home. He was worried about missing her when he went away on his business trip next week.

"Maybe you should cancel your trip," she said as dark anxiety came seeping back into her thoughts. "I don't know how I'm going to handle nights without you." Sometimes the only break in her day was handing off the baby to him when he got home from work.

"I can't. This is the convention that gives us our biggest sales boost."

"This is the Boston trip?" She knew it was huge for him, but it worried her to be alone with the baby right now.

"Let's see if Mrs. Rosekind is available to come over a few nights," he suggested. "She would be a big help to you, right?"

"We can't afford her."

"We're dipping into our savings."