They’d argued about whose turn it was to cook lunch until settling on a street vendor and getting a plate of tamales to bring back to their tiny home. Mary Jane frowned as she stared at Wulf, lying in the bed eating. She’d almost said she’d loved him during sex. Fear of Wulf awakening one day and mentioning returning to Los Angeles kept her from uttering the truth. Mary Jane couldn’t keep him forever no matter how hard she tried to make their reality into paradise.

She mulled over some of the times that they slept together. Often it felt like making love. Well, compared to being married to Peter Grienke who had a lot of demands in bed–specific, strict requirements. Wulf’s spontaneity felt a lot like love. She snuggled closer to him as they enjoyed their evening fix of Telenovela, which meant interpreting the actors’ words based on their overly dramatic mannerisms. Except, Mary Jane didn’t tell him that she understood the words now. It was like a light switch had gone off in her brain.

The language was coming back to her. How, MJ, how is the language returning to you? You’ve never learned it.

As they lay in bed, Mary Jane joked about the actress on the screen.

“What do you think about adopting?” Wulf asked as he rubbed her hair.

She pushed off of his chest and sat up, staring dumbfounded. She squinted in an attempt not to cry. Being Mallory meant she couldn’t have his kids. A family she knew Wulf wanted badly. He’d make a good father. And he deserved to have his own kids. She tore her gaze away from his as it was on the tip of her tongue to declare that she wouldn’t make him settle.

But she chickened out. She was too greedy of a woman to let a good man like him go.

“Maybe in another year or two. When we get back to Los Angeles,” Wulf continued. “So what do you think?”

It hurt that she couldn’t give him children. Making Wulf happy was what she craved most in the world. Of all Megan’s faults, not being able to bear Wulf’s kids was the sole reason why she did not want to be the good twin.

He spoke for her. “I take that as a no?”

“I don’t…know, Dylan,” she mumbled, arising from the bed. Something in her abdomen churned. Their life was too good. Good shit didn’t last. Why not break his heart before she loved him beyond repair?

I already do.

Mary Jane went into the bathroom and closed the door. Wulf understood her–at least he did until he made that comment. Her hands went to her belly. Her body trembled with rage. It was at those moments that she wished she were Megan…even a drugged-out whore could have a child.

Turning on the water spouts in the shower, she undressed and stepped inside.

While the hot water stung her skin and steam curled around her, Mary Jane cried.

“MJ, let’s go dancing,” Wulf said, head just inside the door.

She rubbed the fog from the glass and looked at him. Why wasn’t he angry with her? He’d set aside his life for an entire year for her own selfish needs. She nodded slowly. “Uh, all right.”

When she got out and wrapped in a towel, she went into their bedroom. Walking around the full-sized bed that engulfed the entire area, Mary Jane headed for the closet. She rummaged through her clothes for the most provocative dress in the closet. The red number made of stretchy material would surely keep Wulf in her world longer.

An hour later, the salsa music sent thrills up and down Mary Jane’s spine. The slight buzz from a few cheap margaritas made her dance nonstop. Wulf said he had a surprise for her. It better had come with a few more months in Mexico, or maybe they’d travel down to South America and visit Peru or…or blaze over to Europe and salsa in Spain. Anywhere but reality. They didn’t spend much, but Jake had given her enough money for the wonder never to end.

She switched partners with each song. Though her ass was enough to tempt each of her partners, she kept smiling at Wulf. He didn’t dance. Every time she turned to look at the bar, he was there. He didn’t take his eyes off her. He held a shot glass–probably the same shot from a few songs ago. She assumed he wanted to continue their talk about leaving Mexico later on.

With that, she gave the current man her full attention. He was short, bathed in cologne, and had a winning smile. But the guy had her spinning like a vinyl record.

If it weren’t for his suffocating cologne, she would’ve kept him as her salsa partner. But she decided that one more tango wouldn’t hurt, right as a gorgeous woman took a seat next to Wulf. Her eyes cut to him, but he was no longer watching her dance. He was conversing with the Latina, whose hair spilled over the side of the barstool and down her back.

Mary Jane stopped dancing. Her partner rubbed her forearm, asking for her to please continue. But she stepped around other couples and away from Mr. Cologne.

“What happened?” A man in a shiny gray suit stood in her way.

Her gaze shifted up toward the ceiling. He was up there in the clouds as far as she was concerned. He had big ugly lips and a fleshy face. She noticed the cross at his neck and responded with, “Excuse me?”

“Your smile has disappeared,” he said as she kept one eye on the current conversation and another on Wulf, who smiled at the Penelope Cruz wannabe.

“I’m sorry.” She rushed past the giant, but Wulf wasn’t talking to the woman anymore. He’d gotten up from his chair. She assumed Wulf was heading to the restroom, until he passed by the door. He continued toward the entrance of the bar. Eyes narrowed, Mary Jane hurried along through the crowd. No, the Latina wasn’t with him but someone else…the ghost!

The redheaded man from the sea.