‘Don’t get up. It’s me, Devlin.’ I rolled my eyes and let my head fall back on the pillow. ‘What do you want?’ I returned in a less-than-f...iendly voice. ‘Sara fixed you some dinner. She’s pretty concerned about you. She wanted to bring it out herself but you know she has to go into work now. I told her I would do it.’ I watched as he placed the covered plate on the coffee table. ‘Kind of you,’ I said. ‘Be sure to tell her thanks for me.’ He pulled a chair up and sat next to the couch. I raised. Sex became a chore and that, ladies and gentlemen, is a fate worse than death. So much for trashy romance novels about happily ever after.We hardly saw each other. When we did, it was for a less-than-romantic television dinner. Wheel of Fortune became more interesting than him. When we tried to talk, it boiled down to the same thing - bear his children, stop working and iron his socks. No, he wasn't violent or aggressive about it but he kept going on about how Tom, Dick and Harry all had. More

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