She didn’t normally come home from a Rock Chick party or after having anything to do with the Rock Chicks subdued.

She could come home drunk. She could come home exhausted from dancing in a club mostly populated by gay men. She could come home sharing she’d tipped a number of drag queens (or strippers) so many fifty dollar bills, he was out thousands. She could come home having used one of her (seven) stun guns. She could come home to an angry and/or alarmed husband because she’d been shot at or in a car chase.

This was the life of a Rock Chick.

Which meant he led the beleaguered life of the man of a Rock Chick.

As insane as it was, he wouldn’t have it any other way. The women she’d found and formed into her posse were the best he’d ever met.

And they loved his wife down to their souls and made her happy.

“Nothin’, darlin’,” she murmured, turning toward the stairs. “I’m thinkin’ tonight’s a facial night.”

He caught her as she would pass him and pulled her in his arms.

She looked up into his eyes.

“Tell me what’s troubling you.”

“Nothin’ is, sugar.”

“Then what’s on your mind?”

“Ally’s pregnant.”

His chin jerked into his neck. “Christ. Those people breed like rabbits. How many is this?”

“Lee and Indy, two. Eddie and Jet, three. Hank and Roxie, two. Vance and Jules, three. Ava and Luke, two. Stella and Mace, one. Sadie and Hector, two. Ren and Ally, this will be two. Which makes almost seventeen.”

Marcus had gone still.

She had them counted out.

Seventeen for her girls.

None for Daisy.

Marcus and his wife had everything.

But they couldn’t have kids.

They’d tried.

But according to the doctors, and after two failed tries at in vitro, they’d been told it most likely just wasn’t going to happen.

“Baby,” he whispered.

“I’m fine,” she lied.

He held her closer and dipped his face to hers.

“I’ll say it again, and I really want you to think on it this time. We can adopt. Now, especially, we can adopt.”

He’d taken all of his concerns legitimate and gone into business with Vito Zano’s nephew, Daisy’s friend Ally’s husband, Ren Zano. There was nothing preventing them from adopting. Not their ages. Not money. Not his business. Not now.

She nodded. “I’ll think on it, Marcus.” Her eyes focused on his. “I’m real happy for her, sugar. Just—”

“I know,” he said quietly, and fuck him, but he did know, and he hated knowing it. He bent to give her a soft kiss. “Go do your facial, darling. I’ll bring some champagne up.”

She gave him a distracted smile.

He let her go and watched her walk up the stairs.

Maybe he shouldn’t have pushed it, seeing her before their wedding in her gown. Maybe he’d given them bad luck.

Or maybe there was a god, theirs, who wanted them to remember not to take anything for granted.

But he suspected there was a god, his, who wanted to use the most important thing in his life to remind him, to have the life he’d been able to give her, there was penance to be paid.

He’d done all he’d done and, especially when it allowed him to give Daisy the life she deserved, he’d done it without remorse.

But Marcus stared at the stairs up which his wife had disappeared.

And for the first time in his life, repentance sliced through him like a blade.

* * * *

She moved on him, her hands trailing his abs, her eyes watching, her glides slow, her face languid, her bottom lip caught in her teeth.

Christ, she was beautiful.

Marcus put his hands to her hips, bucked and turned, taking her to her back, him over her, loving hearing her breathy gasp.

He lifted his head, moved inside, feeling her sleek, wet silkiness gorgeous and tight around him. He looked in her eyes, found her hand, and laced his fingers through hers.

“Love you, baby,” she whispered, rounding his thighs with her legs and lifting her hips to take him deep.

He touched his nose to hers. “Love you too, Daisy.”

Then he took her mouth, tightened his hand in hers, slid his other one between them, down, and found her.

She whimpered against his tongue.

Marcus went faster.

“Love you,” he whispered against her lips.

“You too, Marcus.”

He kept moving, faster, deeper, harder.

“Love you,” he repeated.

Her fingers clenched his hand.

“Love…” her body jolted, “love you. So much. Love you, honey.” On that, her neck arched back and she breathed, “God, Marcus.”

Her hand tensed in his, so hard it caused pain through the webbing.

He didn’t care.

He was focused on watching his wife coming.

* * * *

The next morning…

Marcus took in a breath then took hold of the case holding a pearl necklace against a bed of blue silk.

He took it to his pajama drawer, shoved the clothing aside, laid it on the bottom of the drawer and pulled the clothing over it.

After that, he went downstairs and nabbed the two glasses with peacocks on them that his wife had on display in a glass-fronted cupboard, the only things on their shelf.

He took them upstairs to their closet and set them where the pearls had been.

In the coming days, weeks, months, he knew she’d noticed the pearls were gone.