Surrogate and Wife by Emily McKay

he insisted through gritted teeth.
    â€œI believe you.” She slanted him a mischievous look. “But just in case you’re lying, don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.”
    He opened his mouth to respond, only to snap it shut again, his rebuttal left unsaid. Unless he really did want to tell her what he’d been thinking about, there was no point in protesting.
    Still grinning like she knew his deepest secret, she said, “So, besides taking bubble baths, what do big tough firefighters do to relax after a fire?”
    For him, the best way to come down off an adrenaline rush had always been sex. The release that came with a couple of hot sweaty hours in bed had always done the trick.
    Of course, he hadn’t always been in a position to use that form of relaxation. He was too smart to risk casual sex in this day and age. A trip to the local dive with theother guys was always his second choice. He’d never needed a third. Until now.
    Now, he racked his brain trying to think of a suggestion.
    â€œWhat about exercise?” he tossed out.
    â€œWhy do you think I’ve been going to the gym five times a week?”
    â€œNot working, huh?”
    â€œIt helps me fall asleep, but inevitably I wake up after a couple of hours and I just can’t get comfortable again. I usually end up out here on the sofa.”
    â€œWith the TV on?”
    â€œUsually.”
    â€œI can’t believe that doesn’t wake me up.”
    â€œI hate to break it to you, but you sleep like the dead.”
    â€œMust be my mattress. Anyone would sleep like the dead on it. It’s one of those adjustable air-filled ones. It’s really—” He grinned, suddenly remembering a childhood remedy for sleeplessness. “I’ve got it.”
    â€œGot what?”
    â€œThe trick to help you fall back asleep.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her into the kitchen.
    â€œWhat? You’re going to feed me?”
    â€œBetter. I’m going to make you warm milk.”
    â€œWarm milk?” She stuck her tongue out. “Bleck.”
    He pulled out one of the chairs from the table and nudged her toward it. “Have you ever tried it?”
    â€œNo,” she admitted.
    â€œTrust me. You’ll love it.”
    She crossed her arms over her chest. “It sounds gross.”
    He pulled a saucepan out of a cabinet and the milk from the fridge. “My mother used to swear by this stuff. She made it for me all the time when I was little.” Hepoured about a cup of milk into the pan and cranked up the heat on the burner.
    A few minutes later as the milk came to a simmer, he pulled the pot from the stove and poured the liquid into a mug. He brought the mug to where Kate was sitting at the table, but instead of drinking it there, she took the mug and returned to the living room where she curled up in the corner of the sofa. After a tentative sip, she nodded. “This is good.”
    As she drank, she appraised him in that serious way she had. “How old were you when she left?”
    For a moment, he could only stare at her in surprise. “What do you mean?”
    She shrugged. “I just assumed your mom left, because you said your dad raised you alone. Also, when you talked about how your parents met, you said she never forgave your father for being just a man, which implies their marriage ended badly. Just now you said she made this for you when you were little. So I assume she left when you were pretty young. It sounds like it was a pretty nasty breakup.”
    â€œWhat makes you say that?” He avoided her gaze, even though there wasn’t a hint of condemnation in her voice.
    â€œI’ve sat on the bench for more than four years now. You get used to reading the signs.”
    â€œThe signs?”
    â€œThe signs of a marriage gone wrong. Of husbands and wives fed up with each other. Of children disappointed by their parents’ behavior. Disappointed