Suffice it to say, since Halloween, I'd been literally walking on tiptoes for the last couple of weeks in anticipation of Tommy's moods. Sure, he was plenty happy to have received his promotion, but if his little woman stepped a toe out of line, there would be hell to pay, and I knew it. Not wanting a repeat performance, I did my best to only speak when spoken to, and to not say or do anything that would provoke his anger. I knew that this was no way to live, but a part of me believed that I deserved it, and while Tommy broke me to his fancy, I did my best to keep my mind free of negative thoughts.

"Since Mom and Dad moved to Palm Springs last year, I think we'll spend Thanksgiving with your family this year, Murphy."

I nearly dropped the plate that I'd been scouring that morning from Tommy's breakfast—an abundance of scrambled eggs, bacon, sourdough toast dripping with butter, and a healthy amount of potatoes had covered it only twenty minutes ago. Now, I had to do a quick job of pre-scrubbing the bacon grease from its surface before putting it into the dishwasher. "M-my family, Tommy?" I managed to get out, my voice raw from lack of use.

"Yeah," Tommy replied, not put-off by the fear in my voice; in fact, I wouldn't have been surprised if it turned him on. "I know that Kev and V will likely be there, too, with their girls, and it'll be nice for you to have a couple of hours with your kids and siblings. Fiona and Jimmy going to make it over?"

I shrugged, running the grease-covered plate under hot water before shutting it off. I opened the dishwasher, placing the plate accordingly in the bottom half before I shut it. "Doubt it," I said quietly. "Jimmy's usually pretty busy during holiday times—lots of food poisoning cases, or so I hear..."

Tommy gave a short nod at that. "Makes sense," he replied. "But Lip, Debbie, and Franny will show up, right?"

"Right," I said softly.

"And Frank? Don't get to see much of him lately. He's a riot, isn't he?"

I leaned back against the counter, trying to catch Tommy's eye, but he was eyes-deep into his phone at the breakfast table. "That's one word for him, I guess."

"What I don't get is why all of you call him Frank," Tommy went on. "I mean, he's your dad, and the only dad you're going to get. Why don't you call him 'Dad'?"

I sighed. "Well, because, Tommy, he abandoned my siblings countless times over the years, and effectively let me be kidnapped and adopted out by an ill-fit family. Trust me, there are more reasons than one that we call him 'Frank' and not 'Dad'..."

Tommy's eyes finally snapped to mine. "But, still, Murphy, he is your father," he said, his eyes flashing in a dangerous manner. "Father's command respect, just like husband's. And," he went on, getting to his feet, while I did my best not to shrink back from him, "when I become your husband, I'll demand it, Murphy, which I'm sure you know by now," he continued, putting his arm around my waist and yanking me towards him, his eyes boring into mine. "Do I make myself clear?"

I nodded, feeling myself trembling in his grip, but forced my voice not to do the same. "Yeah, Tommy, of course you do. Loud and clear."

Tommy grinned down at me. "You know it fucking turns me on when you quiver in my grip, Murphy?"

I felt the bile rising in my throat. "Y... Yeah?" I ask him.

"Yeah," Tommy replies.

Without hesitation or warning, Tommy promptly turns me around and slams me up against the counter, its edge digging roughly into my ribs. I know there's no point fighting him, but as his fingers deftly yank down my jeans, I find myself gripping onto the counter, bracing myself against it, hating myself for allowing it to come to this. I squeeze my eyes shut, gripping my bottom lip with my teeth as tightly as I can to prevent myself from crying out as my fiancé paws at me, sending revulsion through every inch of my being. I hated, hated having sex with him—that's all it was, really, sex, with the term rape always flying through my mind whenever it happened, for although I never said 'no', my mind constantly screamed it whenever he got that look in his eyes, and I wanted more than anything to shove him away from me and fucking kill him whenever his dick made contact with any part of me.

Grimacing, I continued to grip onto the counter, focusing on the pain that shot up from my fingertips, to my wrists, and, finally, came to register in my brain. I would not allow Tommy's prick to torment me, as it so often did, begging to be let in. After a while, I continued to feel disloyal towards Nicholas, for, even after everything that had happened, we were still legally married, a fact that Tommy never let me forget.

"You're a fucking slut, Murphy," he growled then, grabbing me by my neck and pulling me upwards like a rag doll, holding me against him, my hands flying outwards in half a moment, desperate to claw at something in an effort to distract myself. "Just let my men find Nicholas so that we can get a goddamn courier to sign the fucking divorce papers. Then," he said, allowing his nails to dig into my neck, "you'll really be mine once and for all, and I can finally get some children out of you..."

Swallowing, I felt my skin crawl at the notion of Tommy's child growing inside me, and vowed then that I could never allow that to happen. Keeping my mouth shut, I continued to allow Tommy to do what he liked, knowing full well it would be worse for me if I struggled or protested in any way. I knew he couldn't go on forever—once his pleasure was gained, which was usually quite quick, he would let me go. My thoughts swam with what was life was and what could've been, knowing that I needed to find a way to end this. I couldn't go on like this forever, and knowing that it had been nearly two years, I needed to find a way to break this vicious cycle I'd allowed myself to become a part of.

"Fuck," Tommy hissed through his teeth, finally letting me go, and I made a grab for the counter out in front of me, to prevent myself from falling. "That was incredible, Murphy," he said, slapping my ass before I managed to get my jeans pulled up again. "Wish I had time for round two, but I'll be late if I don't get to the precinct in twenty minutes."

Jerkily, I nodded. "Of course, Tommy," I said, hating myself for allowing my voice to sound raw and vulnerable as I stared out the window and into the back garden, which had once been filled with children's laughter. "Your lunch is in the fridge. Turkey on white, just how you like it, with potato salad, your favorite soda, carrot and celery sticks with ranch dressing, and that walnut brownie from the store you love..."

"Thanks, babe," Tommy said, grabbing a handful of my backside as he bent to dig into the fridge, where a brown bag filled with his lunch was kept front and center, the can of soda placed just beside it. "Well, I'll see you when I get home at six. What are we having?"

"A chicken," I replied. "With lemon. I'm roasting some carrots and potatoes with it. I'm also going to bring home a pie later. Any requests?"

"Oh, you know I love Patsy's chocolate crème as much as you do, Murphy," Tommy said, his voice almost gentle. "I'll see you at six."

"Bye, Tommy," I said, trying my best not to tremble, and hoping that he was satisfied enough from the fucking that he wouldn't want a kiss goodbye.

"Bye, Murphy," Tommy replied, his voice neutral as he walked towards the front door, unlocked it, and pulled it shut and locked behind him.

Heart hammering in my chest, I immediately left the kitchen, dashing through the living room and hurling myself onto the couch, peering through the curtains of the living room window. I spotted Tommy walked to his car, eyes back in his phone, his soda can tucked beneath his arm, and his brown lunch bag gripped in his free hand. My heart continued to hammer as I watched him drive away, and as I fished my own phone out of my pocket, hands shaking as I realized I had an hour before I had to get to the diner.

I dialed the number faster than I could think, my hands continuing to shake as I managed to press my phone up onto my ear.

"Good morning, Dr. Lennox's line," said the voice of a preppy receptionist.

"Good morning, this is Murphy Gallagher, a patient of Dr. Lennox's. I know it's last minute, but does she have any availability this morning?"

"Let me look for you, Miss Gallagher," the receptionist replied patiently, and I could vaguely hear her clicking through Dr. Lennox's electronic calendar. "We just received a cancellation for an appointment twenty minutes from now. Can you make that?"

"Yeah," I said breathlessly into the phone. "I'll be there soon. Thank you."

"All right, Miss Gallagher, I'm putting you right into the system," she replied. "We'll see you here in twenty minutes."

"Thank you," I said again, slowly lowering the phone into my lap and pressing the 'end call' button. Looking up, I felt my eyes draw themselves across the street, and saw Ian out on the porch, smoking a cigarette. Carefully, I got to my feet, stepping into my sneakers and grabbing my jacket, pulling my keys from my pocket as I opened the front door, grabbing my purse before locking it up behind me as I turned back to face the house. I stepped down from the porch, adjusting the strap of my bag as I slowly wandered towards the gate. "Hey," I called across the street, my breath forming clouds in the cold air.

Ian turned and faced me, his expression glum. "Got anything to report?"

I shook my head at him as I stepped through the gate and out onto the sidewalk. "What do you mean?"

"Well, when is your jailer letting us see you?"

I sighed, pulling the gate shut behind me. "Thanksgiving. That is, if you'll have us."

Ian dragged a hand through his hair. "We'll have you."

I nodded stiffly, slowly walking around my car. "Great."

Ian got to his feet then, crossing over to the gate and opening it up before he stepped out onto his side of the sidewalk, and slowly crossed the street towards me. "Murph..."

I blinked, shocked at the use of my nickname. "Yeah?" I asked.

"I know that Debbie went to see you the other week..."

Immediately, I felt my face flush. "Yeah? What of it? She's my sister. Why the fuck shouldn't she come to see me?"

"You know, Murph, the whole, 'Oh, I walked into a door' speech would've worked on us, for a while at least, if you were still a drunk."

I crossed my arms. "I am still a drunk, Ian. I may be sober now, but what about tomorrow, or next year? It's still in my anatomy, even though I may have kicked the habit."

Ian rolled his eyes. "All I'm saying here, Murph, is that all of us would've bought the lie for a while, at least, had you not attempted to bribe Debs."

I lowered my eyes. "So what?"

"So what?!" Ian demanded, reaching out and grabbing me by the arms, and I gritted my teeth to prevent myself from crying out. "What the fuck, Murph?! Does your safety mean nothing to you?!"

I yanked myself away from him. "You wouldn't understand."

"Murph, I understand plenty. Hell, I was fucking in love with a guy who beat me to a bloody pulp before he fucked me..."

I scoffed. "Jesus, Ian, stop being so melodramatic! Mickey's got a heart of gold. You know that and I know that. Please, he's Iana's father..."

Ian sighed. "It didn't used to be like this..."

I lowered my eyes to the various keys in my hand—house, car, various things at Patsy's that needed my clearance before being unlocked... "Like what?" I ask him.

"You used to tell me everything," Ian said quietly, and something in his voice made me raise my eyes to his. "Now you're trying to hand over a few hundreds to Debs just to make her keep her mouth shut. What's happened to you? My sister, my twin, wouldn't act like this..."

I dragged my hand over my face. "It's complicated..."

"What the fuck is so complicated here, Murph?"

I shook my head at him. "I can't talk to you about this," I told him, turning away from him and unlocking my car door. "I'm late for an appointment."

"With a friendly police officer, I hope, or a lawyer who can get you out of this fucked up situation you've inexplicably found yourself in..."

I turned around and stared at Ian then. "You don't know what the fuck you're talking about," I said, speaking to him through my teeth.

"Then tell me what's going on," Ian said desperately.

I shook my head. "I can't tell you," I replied, getting into my car before he could hear my voice break. "I can't tell anyone," I said quietly, and slammed my door behind me. I watched him as he stumbled backwards, away from my vehicle as I started it up, and knew that from the look in his eyes that he'd heard every ounce of my voice breaking. Pushing the thought from my mind, I pulled away from my typical spot outside my house, attempting to ignore the notion that I was shaking from sobs as I drove to my doctor's appointment.

. . .

It was an unseasonably cold day in Chicago that early September night as I drove down the rain-slicked streets, Ian in my passenger seat. It had been three months since Nicholas had run, and Tommy had been flitting in and out of my life as he pleased, due to his busy schedule. He was a friend to me at the moment, and we neither of us had made any promises to each other. On that Saturday night, Debbie was watching the kids at the house while Ian insisted on taking me out somewhere, although he'd refused to give me any further information.

"You know, I would really hate to pull the twin card," I muttered, putting on my directional as Ian indicated where he wanted me to turn.

Ian smirked. "Why would you want to go doing that?" he wanted to know, leaning back in the passenger seat, clearly amused with himself. "It would ruin the surprise."

I rolled my eyes, doing my best to keep them on the road as much as possible. I may have been annoyed with Ian, but fuck, I loved him to pieces, and I was not about to get the two of us wrapped around a telephone pole. "Maybe I wanna ruin the surprise," I replied. "I mean, for Christ's sake, I'm separated from my husband, with little or no hope of ever getting laid again in my life, and I'm running a diner, plus raising three kids, and paying all the bills myself. We may have bought the house outright, but it was sort of nice having Nicholas's attorney salary as a cushion on a rainy day..."

"Why do you think I'm taking you out on a Saturday night?" Ian asked.

I pulled to a stop in front of the traffic light and leaned back momentarily in my seat before I turned to look over at him. "Are you fucking with me right now?" I wanted to know.

Ian raised his eyebrows. "Murph..."

"No, seriously, Ian, I want to know," I said. "My husband, someone that I loved but hardly ever said it to, just walked out of my life three months ago. Ripped me to pieces—you know how hard it is me to hold it together on a daily basis..."

Ian sighed. "Murph, please. I don't want you beating yourself up for not proclaiming your love every five seconds."

I scoffed, turning back to the traffic light, which flashed green in the rain. Quickly, I put my car back into drive and pressed on the gas, gliding steadily through the intersection, keeping a cursory glance on Ian, making sure I was still heading in the right direction. "Yeah?" I asked him, rolling my shoulders in an effort to distract myself. "Why not?"

"Because, none of us Gallagher's are wired like that," Ian replied. "Look, Murph. I love you, but you're not an exception here. It's not something we really say. Besides, I've told you that I only said it to Mickey once."

I pursed my lips. "Yeah, well, nature versus nurture and all that shit," I said, tucking a stray hair behind my ear.

Ian laughed. "Yeah? How do you mean?"

I tossed my hair, growing exasperated with it—Debbie had layered on the hairspray that night and teased it up, so it looked like my head was blowing a red bubble. She'd allowed some strands to escape, and they were now systematically tickling my cheeks in a manner most annoying when one was attempting to focus on their driving. "I guess I thought I'd be different from you guys, in a way, because of how I was raised..."

"Hey, no Dr. Normal talk tonight," Ian told me firmly. "And don't worry. You and I are going to have a fantastic time. I promise."

I sighed. "Yeah, right. It's Saturday night, where most young people find themselves in clubs and shit. You may be single, Ian, but I'm on the cusp of divorce and a potential relationship with another man, and I don't want to hear you bitching about it tonight. And then there's the matter of drinking, which you can do but I can't..."

"Clubs have full bars, which have qualified bartenders, who are perfectly capable—or should be—of making any alcoholic beverage virgins," Ian replied patiently.

I gripped onto the steering wheel tightly, moving to turn at the next intersection when Ian commanded it. "I'm not going to fuck anyone."

"Yeah?" Ian asked. "Why not?"

I shrugged. "I don't do one-night-stands."

Ian laughed. "Your first two times were one-night-stands."

I stuck my tongue out at him. "Fine. I don't do one-night-stands anymore."

Ian sighed. "Murph, come on. We're twenty-seven, and we both deserve to live a little. What's wrong with having a little fun?"

I slumped in my seat then, my shoulders deflating. "I don't know. I guess I still feel loyalty to Nicholas on some level..."

"Hey, that son of a bitch left you, and you know it," Ian said firmly. "Just let go—just for one night—and have some fun with your twin brother."

I shook my head at him. "You're terrible," I reply. "Now if you were taking me to a gay bar, that would be something I'd be game for..."

Ian cocked an eyebrow at me. "Now that Nicholas is gone, you wanna bat for the other team again?" he asked.

I shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe. I guess the notion of fucking a man right now seems just wrong to me... Maybe I'm going through a man-hating phase, I don't know. All I do know is, I do want to get laid, admittedly, but I'm not sure what I want..."

Ian laughed. "Well, trust me, there will be plenty of people falling all over you."

I rolled my eyes. "Doubt it. We'll likely just fuck in one of the restrooms and then once they try to undress me, they'll see my stretch marks, and say thanks but no thanks."

Ian laughed again. "Oh, my god, stop! You do not have stretch marks!"

I gave Ian a dirty look. "What do you know?"

"Murph, other than the kids and Debs, I'm the only one who's seen you naked recently," Ian explained in a patient voice.

I glared at him. "You have not!"

"Okay, fine—in your underwear—but I know what stretch marks are, Murph, and, believe me, you don't have them."

I scoffed. "Thanks a lot," I muttered.

"Turn here," Ian said quietly.

We pulled into the lot adjacent to a brick building; I could see a couple of customers leaving the joint as we got out of the car, and I could hear and feel the music pumping along the street. Ian pulled me towards the bouncer, where my full face of makeup wasn't fooling him, and he carded me anyway, but I didn't give a fuck. Once we'd gotten past and through the door, the neon lights momentarily blinded the two of us, and we each reached out for one another before we managed to stumble into the club. The bar was kitty-corner to the dance floor, where I noticed a DJ situated on a high platform just above that, massive headphones covering his ears, and giant tattoos all over his muscled arms.

"Holy shit," I whispered, getting an eyeful of the place.

Ian grinned. "Happy we came?"

I rolled my eyes. "Don't try to play nice we me, Gallagher."

"Sorry, Gallagher," Ian replied, smirking as he put an arm around my shoulders and steered me towards the bar. "One Old Style and a virgin strawberry daiquiri," Ian said to the bartender, who nodded and began to get our drinks ready.

I raised my eyebrows at Ian as the bartender got our drinks ready. "Wow. You just ordered me the most pussy drink you could think of, didn't you?"

Ian grinned. "Least I didn't order you a fuzzy navel."

I scoffed. "At least," I said, perching on the barstool and watched as Ian did the same. Our drinks were presented quickly, and I leaned downwards, placing the thin plastic straw between my teeth and sucking down the red drink, which really just tasted like a glorified slushy. "But let's get something straight here—you came here to get laid."

Ian shrugged, lifting up his bottle and sipping at it. "So?"

I breathed sharply through my nose then in exasperation. "Are you fucking kidding me right now Ian?" I hissed at him. "All that sincerity was just to get me out of the house?! I'm wearing one of Fiona's club dresses right now!"

"Yeah, and it looks way better on you," Ian replied.

I rolled my eyes. "You are not helping right now, mister."

"All right, fine," Ian replied, "I'll make a deal with you."

I raised my eyebrows, holding my drink in my hand and sipping it slowly. "I'm listening," I replied, not leaving any room in my tone for him to budge me.

"How about I help you hook up with someone before I find someone for me, and then the minute you want to leave, we can go?"

I pursed my lips. "You know as well as I do that once you get your dick into a guy's ass, that you'll have to finish."

Ian smiled. "I've never known an unsatisfied customer to quick service."

I lowered my drink back down onto the bar and make mock-gagging noises. "Okay. Don't ever tell me that again."

Ian grinned down at me. "Noted." He turned and looked up and down the bar for a moment before he allowed his eyes to slowly drift over to the dance floor. "You know what you're looking for here, Murph?"

"Hmmm?" I asked him.

"Taco or burrito?" he asked.

"Dammit—now I'll never eat Mexican food again," I muttered.

"Murph, be serious for two seconds, please. We're two fully-grown adults who are allowed to have a little fun. Now, do you want to fuck a dude or a chick?"

"Jesus Christ, this isn't Amazon or something," I said through my teeth, allowing my eyes to wander a bit around the club. "Holy fuck," I said, reaching out and making a grab for Ian's arm, and Ian nearly lost control of his bottle.

"Hey, Murph! Watch it!"

"Do you see that woman over there—at the end of the bar?!" I hissed, whipping back around to face him. "Red mini dress, long blonde hair, gold necklace..."

Ian followed my gaze to where I'd been looking and caught sight of my target. "Yeah, I see her. I mean, she's hot..."

I sighed. "That's Jessica," I whispered.

"Jess—?" Ian's eyes widened then as he turned back to me. "Wait. You're being serious with me right now, Murph?"

I nodded. "Yeah," I said quietly.

"How do you know it's her?" he asked.

I sighed. "I bought her that necklace," I replied. "I gave it to her the day that Dr. Normal caught us together in my bedroom..."

"You gonna go talk to her?"

"Why? Should I?" I whispered.

Ian shrugged. "Up to you."

I bit my lip, finishing the rest of my drink and getting to my feet. "Okay, I'll go and talk to her. I mean, I guess I will... You okay here without me?"

Ian smiled. "Go and have fun, Murph. I'll be fine."

I nodded, squeezing Ian's hand for a moment as I walked down the length of the bar and turned at its corner, making my way towards Jessica. "Jess?" I asked, my voice somehow audible above the pumping beat of the DJ's mix.

Jessica looked up from her phone then, her eyes focusing on me briefly before they widened and she got to her feet. "Oh, my god, Scar!"

"Murphy," I said, smiling at her. "I went back to my birth name."

"Right, right," Jessica said, hesitating for a moment before stepping forward and pulling me into her arms. "Oh, my god, it is so good to see you!"

"You too," I replied, pulling back after a moment and taking a seat next to her. "So, I mean, how's life going for you?"

"Well, I'm on a business trip out here for a week," Jessica replied.

"And your husband and the kids?"

"Things have changed a bit," she said breathlessly. "We still care about each other, but our rules whenever one of us is out of town are that we can have all the fun we want, provided that it doesn't involve illegal drugs."

I raised my eyebrows. "So, open marriage, then?"

Jessica nodded. "Pretty much, yeah." She lowered her eyes to my hands then, blatantly looking for a wedding ring. "You're not married?"

"Separated," I replied. "My husband—soon-to-be ex—has run off god knows where. But I have the kids, so it's keeping me here."

"I see," Jessica replied. "And the firm? That's how you met, right?"

I nodded. "Yeah, we met at the firm. Um, I actually quit the firm. My older sister had this diner and when she moved to New York, she gave it to me."

"So, you own a restaurant now?" Jessica asked.

I nodded. "That's right."

Jessica smiled. "You happy?"

I laughed a little then. "Well..." I said, unwilling to deny the magnitude between the two of us any longer, and felt my hand extending to touch her leg beneath the counter of the bar. "I guess you could say I am. Now."

Jessica smiled at me. "And what are you doing, Murphy?"

I returned her smile. "Whatever I want," I replied.

Jessica caught my hand, but didn't push me away from her. "Things got fucked last time we did this, Murphy. You let me take control, and I thought we would, I don't know, run away together or something. But you broke my heart."

I sighed. "My heart was broken too, Jess. I couldn't accept who I was."

"And now?"

I felt my lips curl into a smile. "Now I think it's time for some fun," I replied, hopping down off the barstool and taking Jessica by the wrist.

I pulled her behind me then, down the hallway towards the ladies room, and was pleased to see that it was a one-seater, and that nobody was in line for it. Yanking her inside, I locked the door quickly, staring at her in the dim lighting of the room, before I pulled her at full-force towards me and kissed her. I felt relieved when Jessica kissed me back, and we mutually dug underneath our short dresses, pawing at the areas between our legs. I felt our hearts hammering together as we continued tasting each other, and I found it was just the same as it always had been.

"Miss me?" Jessica asked me breathlessly.

I pulled my lips briefly away from hers and stared at her. "Of course."

She sighed. "I loved you, you know, Murphy."

I nodded. "I loved you too, Jess."

She smiled then, yanking me back towards her, and we finished what we'd started back in college all those years ago.

. . .

"Murphy Gallagher to see Dr. Lennox," I said, stepping forward in a cautious manner towards the receptionist's desk.

"Oh, hello, Miss Gallagher," said the receptionist. Her cocoa-colored skin made her clear lip gloss stand out perfectly. "I'm Destiny. I'll be checking you in."

"Nice to meet you," I replied.

"Okay, you're all checked in," she said. "Dr. Lennox will be out shortly."

"Thank you," I said quietly, making my way over to the waiting area, and perching on one of the offered chairs. I took my phone out from my purse, inwardly cursing myself for doing so, for I had successfully driven my family away from me—just like Tommy had wanted—so of course I wouldn't be having any correspondence that morning. Shaking my head, I returned my phone to my bag and just sat there, willing for the door to open and, when it did, I felt immediate relief to see Dr. Lennox standing there.

"Come on back, Murphy," Dr. Lennox said.

I got to my feet and made my way over to the door, following her back into her office and taking the offered chair. "Good to see you, Dr. Lennox."

"You, too, Murphy," she replied, sitting behind her desk. "How are you feeling this morning? Is everything all right?"

I sighed. "Not too bad, thanks. How are you?"

"I can't complain," she replied. "Now, to what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you?"

I bit my lip. "I guess you could say it's slightly embarrassing..."

"Embarrassing? How?" she asked. "I am your doctor, after all..."

"I'd like a different method of birth control," I said quietly. "Tommy and I have been using condoms but I really don't want to have more children. I know it's reckless but we had sex earlier today and he didn't use protection, so I think something more effective—maybe something I can do—would be better..."

Dr. Lennox nodded. "What did you have in mind, Murphy?"

I locked my eyes with hers. "I'd like to begin the shot," I replied. "I know that the failure rate is one-percent or less, and I think it'd be a good idea to get right on that."

"Any particular reason why you don't want more children?"

"I have three already that don't live with me," I said quietly. "It wouldn't seem very fair to them if I just kept popping them out."

"There are permanent ways of preventing pregnancy, Murphy," Dr. Lennox said quietly, "if it is a cause for concern."

I gave her a small smile. "Nothing in life is permanent," I reply.