After my appointment, I saw a text from Aunt Christy inviting us to have dinner at her house. She'd experimented with a new Crock-Pot recipe and said she had enough to feed an army. Christian hadn't been lying when he said his mother wasn't a very good cook, but she managed to turn out some decent one-pot meals. I texted Christian who said he would meet Abby and me there, but would probably be a little late.

I was grateful that Autumn wasn't at her mother's house when I picked up Abby. Autumn did everything she could to avoid Christian's parents, including leaving Abby with her disabled mother knowing that the Bears would have to pick her up, since the woman was bound to a wheelchair. I had no doubt if she knew I was going to be the one to get her daughter she would've done one of two things. Insisted on dropping Abby at our home as a means to snoop, or waited at her mother's place to give me a hard time.

We'd just finished Aunt Christy's rendition of what I think was supposed to be beef Stroganoff when Daisy asked to be excused from the table.

"Can I give Abby her bath?" She pushed in her chair, and then picked up her plate to carry it to the sink. Before either Christian or I could answer, she added, "I'll put her in her jammies so you don't even have to get her ready for bed when you take her home."

I loved how much Daisy loved her niece, but I also knew that Christian had been reveling in playing the role of dutiful father, and he'd done it spectacularly. I saw the hesitation on his face, at the same time Aunt Christy chimed in, "You're on kitchen duty, Daisy. And I'm sure Christian and Mimi want to take Abby home soon. You can give her a bath tomorrow night when she's back here."

Even though the court had given primary custody of Abby to Christian's parents, we still brought her to our home as often as possible. She had her own room, which Christian and I decorated with Daisy's help. Abby's room even had an extra bed for her aunt Daisy for when she wanted to stay over.

Daisy didn't argue with her mother and started gathering the empty plates from the table. Abby was sitting in her chair playing with her noodles, not even paying any of us the slightest attention.

I watched Daisy leave the dining room with an armload of plates.

"Won't be much longer when she won't be making those kinds of offers," came Uncle Anthony's deep voice. We all looked at him. "Pretty soon it's going to be about boys and makeup. I'm surprised it's not already." I could see by his expression that he was already preparing himself to mourn the loss of his soon-to-be teenage daughter. I was inclined to agree. I’d noticed the way Daisy had looked at my brother Jason, and my cousin Scott, when she was visiting for our wedding.

"Daisy is different," Aunt Christy interjected. "She's very family oriented. She prefers us over her friends."

Uncle Anthony raised an eyebrow.

"How was work? What's new with you two?" Aunt Christy asked, purposely changing the subject.

After Christian described a difficult repair which only Uncle Anthony understood, I whipped out the picture I'd taken from the museum and passed it around the table. All three of them agreed it was Grizz in the old photo. Of course, I left out the part about Winifred Truncle's disapproval of mixed-race marriages, and the nasty note I'd found on my windshield. I started to tell them about running into Nick and his friend Roger when Aunt Christy banged her hand on the table, yelling, "What? You’re telling me he's in the same building as your therapist? Where you go every week?"

Apparently Abby wasn't accustomed to seeing her grandmother angry, and she made a small squeak. We all looked over at her, but she only had eyes for her father.

"Dabba," she said, while reaching for him. It was the first time she'd called Christian anything. I almost cried as I watched Christian lift her out of her seat and place her on his lap.

Turning back to Aunt Christy, I told her everything that Nick had told me.

"I don't like it. It doesn't feel right," she said.

"It's not for you to like or not, Owani," Uncle Anthony interjected.

"It's okay, it really is," I added, casting a sideways glance Christian's way. He hadn't commented yet, so I wasn't sure where he stood on the issue.

"Look, they've been working on the place for weeks now and I haven't seen them. I was sitting on the bench across from the space at the precise time they were leaving. It was so random. Odds are slim that I’ll ever run into Nick again, considering I only have therapy appointments once a week." I took a breath and looked at my husband. "Are you okay with this? Do you think this will be a problem?"

He shook his head slowly. "As long as he doesn't have any misguided notions that you'll be getting chummy or that we'll be double-dating with him and his fiancée, I don't see it as a problem."

"Considering a condition of your parole is not having any contact with your victim, I don't see any double-dating in your future anyway," Uncle Anthony scoffed.

"I think it's too weird, and way too much of a coincidence," Aunt Christy added as she placed her elbows on the table and leaned forward to address us. "What if Nick is up to something?" She leaned back and drummed her fingers on the table. "What if he's trying to get revenge for what Christian did to him?" She grabbed a salt shaker and nervously fiddled with it. She didn't give anyone a chance to answer when she looked at me and added, "I'll offer to relocate your therapist, and I'll make it worth her while. You said you told her about meeting Nick so she'll understand why it's so important. Right, Mimi?"

The Bears lived well below their means in their quaint neighborhood, but they didn't have to. It was no secret that Christian's mother was an heiress, and worth millions. And his father had amassed a small fortune of his own through lucrative criminal endeavors when they'd lived on Florida's west coast. In her mind, Aunt Christy's solution was simple. She would write a sizeable check to my therapist to entice her to find another office. I didn't think it was necessary and apparently neither did her husband.

"Owani, listen to what you're saying." All eyes shifted to Uncle Anthony as he reached for his wife's hand. Gently removing the salt shaker from her grasp and setting it aside, he continued, "Do you really think that Nick Rosman used up all the money he got from us on his charity while waiting for Mimi to show back up in Florida, banking on her marrying Christian? During which time he waited over a year for funding for his new non-profit, only accepting their money if they offered to put him in a building where he knew Mimi had an appointment once a week, in the hopes that he would run into her? All so he could exact revenge on Christian?"

She blinked a few times before answering. "When you say it like that it does sound a little outlandish," she admitted.

"A little?" Christian added.

"Fine," she conceded. "So, it's ridiculously outlandish. I know I'm overthinking it, but I'm also a mother. We have a bad habit of imagining worst-case scenarios."

I reached over and touched her arm. "I appreciate you looking out for me, Aunt Christy. But I felt no threat from Nick. And I highly doubt I'll run into him often or even at all."

"I love you so much, Mimi," Christian whispered, his breath hot against my ear.

We were making love. He was on top and inside me, and after a few gentle thrusts he raised up on his elbows and looked down into my eyes.

"I love you too, Christian," I said while brushing his hair back over his shoulder.

"You don't seem like yourself. Is everything okay, baby?" His concern reflected back to me in his eyes.

I looked away and concentrated on his bicep, the muscle bulging under his weight.

"Is it Nick?" he asked. "If it is, I don’t need my mother's checkbook to get rid of him."

"It's not Nick," I assured him. The last thing I wanted Christian to do was have another confrontation with him. Especially one that would no doubt send Christian back to prison.

"Is it what that fossil said about Grizz?"

He knew me so well. "Maybe," I said, a little sheepishly.

"You're not evil, Mimi. You’re not Grizz's demon seed." His voice was angry as he slowly removed himself from between my legs and settled down next to me. "And you aren't going to be punished for things he did."

"I know that," I said, looking over at him. I'd been thinking about how Winifred Truncle had misinterpreted Scripture by insinuating that God would punish Grizz's children for his sins. I knew that wasn't the case so it didn't bother me. But something was itching me and it had nothing to do with Winifred.

"He looked so young and innocent in that picture," I said, my voice thick with emotion. "And he'd already experienced so many horrors. I wonder if my father would've turned out differently if the old man who’d let him stay at the motel hadn't been a pervert, but someone Grizz could've looked up to?”

"I guess you'll never know," he quietly whispered.

"I don't believe he was born evil, Christian. He knew evil because he lived with it every day, but he wasn't born that way."

"I'm sure you're right, Mimi. Does any of that matter now?"

"I guess not," I answered. "I'm just wondering if, you know..." I couldn't get the rest of my question out.

"If you're too much like him?" he asked.

I turned toward him. "Why would you ask me that?"

"Because you've mentioned more than once that it bothers you that you weren't appalled when you saw your mother's image on the jacket. And that you should've objected when you thought I was breaking into Axel's garage to steal something. You've dropped little hints like that. I think you're trying to figure out who you are."

"Maybe you're right." I stroked the side of his cheek with the back of my hand. "Who am I, Christian?" I asked. My eyes were starting to burn as I pulled them away from his and stared at the ceiling.

"You're Mimi Bear." He talked to my profile as his left thumb teased my nipple. "My wife and the woman I've always loved. You've walked a straight line for so long, you're punishing yourself for feeling the smallest thrill at doing something you consider bad."

"Possibly," I conceded. "Maybe that's it."

"And you like that people are treating us differently at The Alibi," Christian added. "You're feeling the excitement that comes with a sort of notoriety, or whatever you call it."

He might've hit the nail on the head with that revelation. We'd visited The Alibi a couple times a month since I'd moved to Florida, and it didn't take long for word to get around that Anthony Bear's son had married Grizz's daughter. Like Mike had told Sal at Chicky's, Christian and I were seen as biker royalty.

Old and new members of my father's gang slowly migrated to The Alibi, leaving their regular haunts behind. Chili practically fell apart in my arms when she asked me if it was true. She hadn't remembered that my mother was pregnant with Grizz's child when she married Tommy "Grunt" Dillon.

"I should've recognized you," she’d cried. "You look just like your mother!"

Engaging in conversations with some of the women from back in the day bordered on downright uncomfortable. The last thing I wanted to hear was that my father was the most well-endowed man they'd ever slept with. Yuck. The next time I saw Chili, she gave me her old club jacket. "You should have this," she offered.

I glanced over at my open closet. I could see the black leather sleeve peeking out. Maybe Christian was right. Maybe I was enjoying my newfound popularity a little too much.

I didn't have long to ponder the thought as Christian's hot tongue replaced his thumb, and my nipple hardened even more. I arched into his mouth and moaned loudly.

That's when we heard her. We'd shut the bedroom door, but it didn't catch so she quietly pushed it open and snuck up on us. We scrambled to get under the covers as Abby toddled toward the bed, her footed pajamas scratching against the hardwood floor. She tightly clutched her blanket in one hand, and two chess pieces she'd swiped from the game we had set up on our coffee table in the other. I kept forgetting to put it up when she came over. After she left we would find chess pieces in the oddest places. She was fascinated with them. I was grateful she had no interest in eating them. I still had a lot to learn about childproofing a home. I'd been in college when my parents had to do that for Ruthie and Dillon.

We both took turns momentarily distracting her so we could get dressed. A few minutes later the three of us were snuggled in the bed, Abby softly snoring between us.

"I'll carry her back to her bed," Christian said as he slowly rose from the mattress.

He was sitting with his back to me getting ready to stand when I told him, "No, it's okay. Let her sleep between us tonight. She's never crawled in bed with us before. It's sweet," I whispered over her head.

He turned around and said, "I'm not a parenting expert at all, but everybody I know who has kids says once they get in bed with you, you'll never get them to stop."

I slowly nodded my head in understanding, but couldn't help my objection. "I know, but maybe just this once."

Christian lay back down and faced me, his back to the edge of the bed. "What did I do before I found you, Mimi? How did I exist?"

"Probably the same way I did," I quietly answered. "Barely."

We'd eventually settled in, repeated our vows, and I was about to fall asleep when I remembered something. "Thank you for making the bed today," I whispered into the black night.

I felt his movement on the other side of the mattress when he asked, "Huh? I didn't make the bed. I leave before you do so you always make it."

"But I didn't make it this morning. I was running late. When we climbed into it earlier it was made up, right?"

"Yeah," he answered.

"So I figured you came home for lunch or something, and saw that I didn't get a chance to make it so you did," I replied with a little more snap than I'd intended.

I heard him yawn before saying, "I've only stopped home twice for lunch since we've lived here, and I don't remember it ever crossing my mind to see if the bed needed to be made."

"Who made our bed? Do you think someone broke into the house?" I sat up and switched on the light.

"Ack! Mimi, that's too bright. I was about to fall asleep. Turn it off," he grumbled.

"Not until I get to the bottom of this," I said, giving him a stern look.

He blew out a sigh and replied, "And when this person broke in to make the bed, do you think they emptied the dishwasher and did a load of laundry too?"

Ignoring his sarcasm, I frowned in concentration trying to remember if I'd managed to make the bed. I couldn't conjure up a specific memory because it was jumbled together with every other time I’d done so.

"It's one of those robotic things you do, right?" he asked. "Like brushing your teeth and combing your hair. I got to work once and started to braid my hair before I realized I'd already done it."

Christian's long hair was a hazard around engines so he always wore it in a braid while working at the shop.

I nodded. "Yeah, I guess so." I slipped under the covers and turned off the light.

"Mimi?"

"Yeah?"

"Remind me before I leave for work tomorrow to put out the paint and brushes we bought."

"Why?" I asked.

"Maybe whoever broke in will come back and paint the spare room."

"Ha ha," I said dryly. "You’re not funny."

As I drifted off to sleep, I couldn't help but compare Aunt Christy's notion that Nick had acquired the office space near me only to exact revenge on Christian to my "bed-making break-in" speculation. My assumption was just as ridiculous as hers. I flipped over on my stomach, and pulled my pillow over my head.