I sit down in Asher’s computer chair and take a deep breath. He beings to massage my shoulders, which feels good but it’s still hard to orientate myself. I tell myself I’m just recovering from hot sex, but I feel something else taking over my body. Something that feels a lot like labor.

“Oh my God,” I tell him.

“I know,” he says. “That was fucking great.”

“No, Asher. It’s not that.”

I look at him. But then the contraction is over. Perhaps I was just imagining it?

His office phone rings.

“What is it, then?” he asks. “You want to play secretary like you used to do for me?”

“Sure,” I tell him, realizing this is the last time I might be in the office for quite some time.

I’ve planned a maternity leave so I can stay home with the twins for a while after they’re born.

“Asher Marks’ office,” I answer, wondering who could be calling at nearly eight o’clock in the evening.

I wonder if it’s a new client and if I’ll get credit for bringing on new business before I temporarily leave the firm. Or if it’s another partner, calling to ask whether our babies have arrived yet or how the trial is going.

“Who is this?” asks a snappy yet familiar voice.

“This is Madilyn Marks, Asher’s wife,” I say, immediately feeling territorial and possessive. “Who is this?”

“Oh, Madilyn,” the voice says, in the midst of choking back a laugh. “I thought you would be, like, in labor or something by now. I can’t believe he has you working his phone while you really should be on bedrest or something, with those twins. But what do I know? I’m no doctor. Of course.”

Suddenly I know exactly who it is.

I look at Asher, wondering why she’s calling him. And as his face goes white, I realize that he doesn’t want me to know.

“This is Janice,” the voice on the other end of the phone says.

“I know who it is,” I tell her. “What do you want?”

“I just want to tell Asher that his ex-wife is ready to deal.”

“I see.”

A contraction rips through me and I know that my next move needs to be to hang up on Janice and call Dr. Morris. Even though I might think that there are more pressing matters to attend to right now, these babies obviously think differently. They are ready to be born.

“You didn’t even know, did you?” Janice asks, and I can tell she’s grinning. “Mandy, Madilyn didn’t even know what’s been going on.”

I hear Mandy Calderon’s shrieking laughter in the background and I decide it’s time for Mean Mama Bear to come out. I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m going to pretend I do.

I have some idea, since Asher’s been very hush hush about this case that he’s been in trial on. Certain things are starting to come together. I’m mad at him for not telling me but I can guess why he hasn’t.

It’s become obvious to me that sometimes men who are in love do stupid things. But for the sake of these babies, who are ready to enter the world, and the sake of my relationship with their father— or whatever might still be left after he explains to me what he’s been keeping from me and why— I am not going to let Asher do anything stupid.

“Of course I know what’s going on,” I say, raising my eyebrows at Asher. “And you can tell Asher’s ex wife that there will be no deal.”

“What?” Janice says, and now it’s my turn to grin at her shock, rather than the other way around. “But Asher said—”

“I know what Asher said,” I tell her, even though I have no clue. “He’s the boss, but in this situation, I’m in charge. And you can tell her there will be no deal.”

I hang up the phone but Asher’s mouth is still hanging open.

“What in the hell was that?” he asks.

“That’s an ironic question, coming from you,” I tell him. “But I’ll let you know what that was. That was a pregnant lady saving your ass, right before she has your babies.”

“What?” he asks, looking down at my stomach and then back up at my face.

I hunch over now, as another contraction hits me.

“You’re not mad at me? For keeping things from you?”

“I sure am,” I tell him. “And I expect you had your reasons, and I expect you’ll tell me as soon as I have these babies. But, it’s just about time to do that. Before the phone rang, I was going to tell you I need to call Dr. Morris.”

“Really?” he asks, completely dumbfounded.

“Really,” I tell him. “But now things have progressed to where I don’t even think I can do that. Please call Dr. Morris for me, and then help me get my clothes back on. There’s no way I want to deliver our babies wearing black BDSM lingerie.”