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“You beat me home!” says Kelly, dropping her bag to wrap her arms around Dominic from the back and kiss his neck.

“Evan needed help with dinner,” says Dominic, and Evan in turn comes up behind her, burying his face in her hair. Kelly feels a damp patting on her arm and grins.

“You three just wanted extra snuggle time,” she accuses, and they barely even look ashamed. The baby on Evan’s hip emits a high-pitched and happy message. Kelly winks at her. She either has her father’s eyes or her daddy’s nose, but most days they can’t decide which.


He’s incredible inside her, long legs strong, deep moans and afterwards he holds her, blue eyes compassionate. She told him that after Eric she just wanted to feel alive again, and he believed her. He understood.

It was a lie. She can’t grieve for Eric; she doesn’t even believe he’s dead, really. But she wanted to fuck Dominic the day Eric died, wanted to fuck him at the funeral, had wanted him for months, long before the end.

And now Kelly has what she wanted. She’s horribly happy, satisfied and nauseous, her stomach burning with almost all the guilt she deserves.