Madelyn was rarely so relieved to see the back end of a week. Mental and physical exhaustion plagued her. Nearly a month had elapsed since the accident-that-wasn't-an-accident transpired. Headaches followed the concussion she had sustained, and while they seemed to wane after the first week, now they were back. The pain was intense and at times she was overwhelmed with nausea, alleviated only by sleep. Regretfully, sleep was elusive at the moment.

Muffled bangs and thuds from the floor below distracted her, as she lay in Harry's new bed above The Next Generation. Surprisingly, the move into Next had gone smoothly. Credit to Harry, Murphy and Becca for hiring a phenomenal staff that was willing to step up and put in the extra hours and heavy lifting. If their schedule held, Etta's daughter-restaurant would have her grand opening in less than a week. The design and music concept from Etta's carried over with a lighter, sleeker tone. It was the modern female voices of soul and R&B that undulated from the sound system, Norah Jones, Mary J. Blige, Adele, Amy Winehouse, Alicia Keys and more; hence, The Next Generation.

What was truly unique was the addition of a study lounge, where student customers could congregate at one of three long, wood, plank tables. There, the food was counter service only and the wifi was free. By eliminating the need for a wait staff and having patrons bus their own tables, The Next could cut expenses and justify providing a communal space for their student-neighbors to linger. In the future, they would offer the room for parties and neighborhood gatherings. The four owners had every intention of becoming entrenched in this university community.

Madelyn wished she could kick this feeling of sick and join the crew working on the finishing touches. She wanted to pull her weight. Instead, she was taking deep breaths as she massaged her temples and another wave of nausea passed. She mulled over the most recent information Detective Barrett had presented the day before. Her case had been reviewed by the district attorney's office and it had been escalated. It was now being viewed as an attempted murder.

Strands of hair and the broken fingernail found in her car were sent to the state crime lab for DNA analysis. Unlike television dramas, the real wheels of justice moved slowly. Barrett had finally informed them the DNA results would be available any day. Additionally, he had received the forensic mechanic's report. Madelyn had a rudimentary understanding of cars. She could check and fill the fluids, jump a dead battery without electrocuting anyone and recognize a failed starter. That was the sum total of her knowledge. Harry, on the other hand was adept. He made sure she grasped everything that the police and insurance investigators had found.

Sulfuric acid was the first thing she learned about. Detective Barrett had asked if she knew what it was, had any stored on her property or knew anyone who had access to it. She did not. He had subjected Harry to the same questions, then asked if an officer might be allowed to search his jeep and apartment. Harry had acquiesced immediately. The detective apologized for the invasion, explaining that they were simply following procedure. Having found nothing suspicious, Barrett described what their probe revealed to date, and what they thought happened to cause Madelyn to lose control of her vehicle the night of the wreck.

When the forensic mechanic examined the Subaru, he discovered that the brake line leading from the master cylinder had been tampered with. Tests showed the presence of highly caustic sulfuric acid which caused a weakening in the line. There was scraping on the material which initially led police to believe that Madelyn had driven over something sharp, thus causing the damage. The thinking was that a slow leak of brake fluid resulted in her inability to stop the car. It was the presence of the acid that convinced them to look further.

Minor scratches in the paint evidenced that the driver side door had been forcibly opened, likely using a wedge and slim-jim type tool. Once entry had been gained, popping the hood would have been simple.

A timeline was created. Detective Barrett determined the job had to have been executed while the car was parked in front of Etta's as the four friends had celebrated the purchase of Next. It had been dark and if there were two suspects involved, one could have stood lookout while the other painted the acid onto the brake line, then used a tool to distress the line making it appear that a rock or chunk of ice had been to blame for the leak.

"Madelyn," Harry called softly as he ascended the stairs. "How do you feel? Were you able to sleep a bit?"

She rolled to her back, holding up her arms.

"I rested."

Harry slid into her embrace, lifting a few locks of hair away from her face.

"How's the headache?" He had been pressuring her to go back to the doctor again.

"A lot better," she fibbed.

The doctor had been sympathetic when she saw him a week ago, but said only the tincture of time would heal her bruised brain. In the meantime, he advised over the counter pain reliever.

Harry's lips were soft and warm on her forehead before he kissed down to her temple, knowing that was where the discomfort was usually greatest.

"I suspect you are not being fully truthful."

"Oh, you think you're so wise now," Madelyn lifted her brows at him.

"With age comes wisdom, you know." Harry rolled onto his back, pulling her against his side.

They had christened the new restaurant by hosting Harry's twenty-fifth birthday celebration. He hadn't wanted a fuss as Madelyn had just begun feeling better, but she conspired with Becca to set up a surprise party. Murphy and Noah were easily roped into their scheme.

Noah was taking the semester off to work full-time and save money. He practically lived at Etta's as it was, taking every shift available. Harry didn't bat an eye when Murphy announced Noah was willing to pitch in at Next as well. In a rotation of distraction, they managed to keep Harry out of the way while they cleaned and decorated.

Their coordinated efforts paid off February 1, when two dozen friends and coworkers jumped out in the dark restaurant, yelling 'surprise!' Harry's attempt to drag Madelyn upstairs for a romantic evening was thwarted, though quickly forgiven, as his look of shock became a face splitting grin.

"I'd say a quarter of a century counts for something, that and my uncanny ability to read you. Or it might be the way you look over my shoulder when you avoid telling me something."

Madelyn swatted his chest, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Right. I knew something was up before my birthday, but I blew it off. Rest assured, Professor M., I am a good student and I'm learning your ways," he kissed the top of her head.

"Okay, busted. The headaches aren't as bad as they were right after the accident, though. My skull just feels a little too tight."

Lifting her chin with his index finger, he waited for her to meet his gaze. "Just don't keep these things from me. We're talking about your health, and remember," he stroked his thumb over her bottom lip, "we're a team now."

"Yay team," she squirmed away and sat up. "What's going on downstairs?"

"If you feel up to it, you can come see for yourself. Noah has been like a man possessed. The place looks amazing and as long as we pass the final health inspection, nothing will stop us from opening Wednesday night."

With a satisfied stretch, Harry placed his hands behind his head and crossed his ankles. Madelyn sat cross-legged, one hand resting on his firm thigh.

"So it's a soft opening and dinner only, until Friday?"

"Yep, we'll work out the kinks, then do the grand opening Friday and Saturday nights. Sunday will be lunch only and Monday we'll be on a regular schedule."

The pride in his voice could not be denied. Harry had every reason to feel satisfied with himself. Opening a restaurant while keeping up with university classes so he could graduate in two months, was no easy task. Throw in a relationship and a police investigation; it was no wonder that Madelyn's heart swelled every time she looked at him. She knew a quality man when she saw one, and this one in particular was in love with her.

"All right, Mr. Wonderful, show me what's going on downstairs."

Harry grabbed her wrist as she was crawling off the bed, placing her hand over his crotch.

"Wrong 'downstairs,' big boy. Let's go!"

Grumbling half-heartedly, Harry got up and let her usher him out of his new apartment and down the stairs. He nearly knocked her over when she came to an abrupt halt upon opening the door that led into the professional kitchen. He quickly spotted the problem.

"Katelyn. What are you doing here?"