“Bad example, Doc.” I could feel the blood drain from my face. “They’re probably like one or two pounds each. I’m going to have two babies who will probably weigh eleven pounds each. Maybe more. I mean, look at their father. What was I thinking?”

“Clearly, neither of us were, love,” Matt pointed out logically.

“Not helping, Sasquatch!” I wailed.

Dr. Joy raised a brow at me, then looked at Matt, and then shrugged. “Good luck with this one.”

Just then Fire Chief Wendy Monroe walked in, glanced at all of our faces, and said, “Am I interrupting something? Because I can come back.”

“No!” we all yelled.

“Perfect timing, Chief.” Dr. Joy grabbed her chart and stood. “I’m finished here. She’s all yours.” I heard her whisper, “Meet you at the pub later? You might need a drink by the time you’re done.”

The fire chief gave her a knowing look and nodded.

“What—” I started.

“Am I doing here?” The fire chief took the seat next to my bed on the other side of Matt. “Good question.” She looked at Matt and then back to me. “Is this something you wish to discuss around other people? It pertains to your business and home.”

“Former home,” Matt clarified.

“I rented my apartment to my office manager, but it’s still my place. My business as well,” I said. “And yes, you can say whatever you need to in front of Matt. He knows all about my ex.”

Matt frowned. “Yer ex?” I saw a muscle in his jaw flex. “What does he have to do with the accident at yer spa?”

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.

“Oh, that was no accident,” Chief Monroe said.

“How do you mean?” I refused to meet Matt’s eyes because I was afraid of what I would see.

“Someone knew exactly where your security cameras were, and they disabled them. Made it look like a mechanical malfunction, but our experts could tell it was deliberately tampered with.”

Bud was a former construction worker and a damn good mechanic.

“How was the fire started?” I asked.

“It was an electrical fire,” the chief said. “This building is old, so the wiring is often faulty. The culprit knew that. A space heater was plugged in. It was only a matter of time before it ignited. Did you use a space heater recently?”

“Yes, when I got my last shipment of supplies in,” I admitted, “but I know I unplugged it. I always do.”

“That’s what I thought, and given the security footage tampering, that’s what raised my suspicions. Do you have a big insurance policy on this place?”

“I sure do. And my ex-husband knew all about it.” My hands shook, and I clenched them into fists. “I saw a woman running away from my spa right after I discovered the fire. I thought she was a customer fleeing, but then I noticed she jumped into a car. I saw the driver’s face as they sped off.”

“And who did you see?” she asked.

“Bud Grant.” I dared to look at Matt’s face.

If he wasn’t the father of my babies, I would be scared as hell right now.

Chapter Sixteen

Two weeks later, we were at a girls’ night at Morticia’s house. Her apartment had white walls with black furniture and accent pieces. Tonight’s snacks were properly displayed tapas on classic dove-gray plates. She didn’t have color anywhere, which made the brightly colored foods even more appetizing. We’d tried to add a bit of color to her life with gifts, but then we stopped trying to make her into something she wasn’t. She enjoyed a simple, minimalist pallet.

And books, of course.

Books were everywhere. Her free time was spent with us, or reading, or in her online book clubs. For once, I was the first one there. I picked up a half-read copy of Oliver King’s latest thriller.

“Don’t lose my place!” she hollered from the kitchen.

I carefully set the book down. “No worries, doll. I’ve got your back.”

“I have book club online later tonight, and we’re discussing that book. There’s this guy in my online group, Collin Quin, who drives me crazy. He acts like he knows Oliver King better than I do.” She snorted. “Not likely. I am most definitely his biggest fan, and I intend to prove that tonight.”

Zoe walked in. “Hey, ladies, sorry I’m late. Mrs. Bee took forever to come over to watch the kids. Chaz got called in to perform an emergency C-section on one of his expectant mothers.” She glanced at me. “Sorry, hon. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I’m not scared,” I lied, but even I had felt the blood drain from my face.

Harmony came barreling through the door. “Pour me a beer, babe. I’m finally here, and I could definitely use a drink.”

“Here you go.” Morti handed her a tall one.

“Why, what’s wrong?” Zoe asked, as Morti handed her a glass of chardonnay and took the seat beside her.

I joined them at the kitchen table and sat in front of the bottle of sparkling water Morti had placed at my setting.

“What’s wrong?” Harm snorted as she plopped down beside me and drained half the pint. “My mother, that’s what. She used to set me up on blind dates all the time, but they never worked out. It drove me crazy, so I told her to stop, and she did.”

“And that’s wrong how…?” Morti arched a jet-black eyebrow high.

“She picks now to start listening to me?” Harm huffed out a breath. “If I don’t get laid soon, I’m going to explode.”

Zoe spit her chardonnay all over the table. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Morti.” She dabbed at the table with a napkin.

“You’re fine. At least you don’t drink red wine.” Morti got up to grab more towels, black of course.

“I’m just so frustrated with her. She’s either pimping me out or telling me I’m acting like a hooker.” Harm threw her hands up. “Then she got mad when I corrected her and said like a slut, not a hooker, because I was willing to give it away for free.”

“Good lord, doll, you’re going to give your mother a heart attack.” I nibbled on some cheese from the gorgeous charcuterie board filled with a selection of cured meats, an assortment of cheeses, crackers and bread, olives and pickles, fruit, nuts, dips and spreads. Morti had done a great job.

“All I know is that none of the decent men in town will even give me a chance. I’m getting desperate enough to give it a try with one of the freakshows she tries to fix me up with, but now she’s put the kibosh on that. First, she thinks I don’t like men, and now she thinks I’m a nymphomaniac. I can’t win. Mayflower is a small town. At this point, the men in town just flat-out think I’m crazy. Am I really that scary?”

We all hesitated.

“Don’t answer that.” Harm downed the rest of her beer.

“You’re not crazy,” I said gently, “you’re just misunderstood.”