I’m about to close the drawer when I pause and take another look at the envelope.
After David’s safety deposit box letter, every blank envelope looks suspicious. I’ll never be able to walk into an office supply store again without being traumatized.
Without taking the envelope out of the drawer, I gingerly lift the top flap and look at what’s inside.
It’s a glossy color brochure from the Mayo Clinic about vasectomy reversal.
Great minds think alike.
I set both hands flat on top of the desk, lean over and brace myself against it, and breathe deeply. After a moment, I start to softly laugh.
“What’s so funny, baby?”
Coming from behind me, Kage’s voice is warm, full of suppressed laughter. He runs his hand up my spine to my neck, which he starts to massage.
“Oh, nothing. Just wondering
