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But okay, they haven’t been super welcoming to Harlan. I get that.

“They’re just protective of me,” I tell him. Surely he can understand that.

He’s protective, too.

“And yet when I’m protective of you,” he says, “I get pushed away.”

Maybe that’s true. “Well, my girls are a little less barbaric about it. They cook for me and rub my feet and help me do the dishes. You give me orders and bodyguards and track my phone. It’s stifling.”

He glowers at me. He says nothing, but now my hair seems to be the focus of his anger.

“What?”

“You changed your hair,” he says in a low, accusatory tone.

“That’s why you showed up and dragged me away from my friends? Because I went to the salon today and didn’t tell you?”

“Frankly, yes.”

“What the hell, Harlan.” I don’t even know what to say to the man. “So, you don’t like my new hair color, and this is how you choose to tell me?”

“Why did you change it?”

I can’t believe how personally affronted he’s behaving about this.

“Well, I colored it turquoise when I was going through a hard time earlier this year and just needed a change, because I do that sometimes. But I didn’t want to keep coloring it while pregnant and breast-feeding, so now that I’m out of the first trimester, I decided to just have it colored back to my natural brown.” I study him as he continues to assess my new look, which is really my natural look. “Is it bad?”

“You look beautiful,” he says tightly. His gaze drifts down to my plump pregnancy boobs, which are bursting out of my dress.

“So… what is it, then? You’re upset that I went to the salon with Nicole instead of you? Is that it?”

“You could’ve told me.”

“Why would I tell you?”

“I don’t know, Quinn. You never tell me anything. The only way I find out is by stalking you.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is true. Your girlfriends know everything, because you tell them. I show up with dinner, and it’s the wrong thing, but your friends know what you need to eat so you don’t feel sick. They know you’re experiencing morning sickness before I do?—”

“That’s because they’re around more.”

“Because you let them come around more.”

That may be true.

“They’ve completely taken over,” he says resentfully, “like I’m not needed.”

“Well…”

“Don’t say it,” he growls.

“Idon’tneed you to raise this baby, Harlan,” I tell him carefully.

“I have rights.”

“I’m not trying to take the baby away from you.” I soften my tone. I don’t want him to think I’m waging war on him. I’m really not. This whole situation has just been hard, on so many levels. “That’s not what I’m saying. I just needed… air.”