A/N: It's past midnight, which means the show officially ends today! It's about time, 'eh?

Turning Tables

Cute As A Bug

"What is this?" Grace asked as she entered the kitchen. In her right hand was a white envelope. When she turned it around the back read: Do not open! Go straight to the kitchen.

Kathleen was sitting at the breakfast table. She picked up a white envelope identical to her daughter's and revealed the same message on the back of hers. "It's George's handwriting."

Tom suddenly burst in wearing a chef's uniform. He nudged his sister toward the table. "Si' down! Si' down!"

"Tom, are you and George conspiring?" Kathleen asked her son knowingly.

Tom grinned and pressed his finger to his lips. "Shhh! Today is abou' beau'iful la'ies! Si' down, si' down!" he pulled out a chair and motioned for Grace to seat herself in it, refusing to budge until she did.

Grace looked at her mother suspiciously. "Are you sure you didn't know anything about this?"

Kathleen shook her head. "George left early this morning and when I woke up I found this tucked into a bouquet of roses over my alarm clock."

"Mine was stuck to a tootsie pop bouquet on my nightstand."

"Should we open them?" Kathleen mused, turning the envelope over.

Tom suddenly ran back from the stove and snatched away the envelopes. "No!" He pointed to the writing on the back. "Do no' open!" he scolded.

Grace held up her hands defensively. "O-kay then!"

A few minutes later they heard the front door open, followed by Moose's barking. Kathleen looked towards the entrance to the kitchen, expecting to get some answers. Instead she was shocked to see Ashley and Amy walk in. "G-good morning," she said, almost as though she was asking a question.

Amy smiled bashfully. "Hi…"

"Do you know what's going on?" Grace asked.

Amy shook her head and held up an envelope that matched Grace's and Kathleen's. "Dad woke us up early this morning, gave us these, and said he was taking us over here. We were wondering why he didn't pick us up yesterday, it was supposed to be our weekend with him."

In the corner of the kitchen, Ashley was ignoring the other women and busying herself playing with Moose.

"Where is your father?" Kathleen asked.

"He said he needed to get something out of the trunk." Amy pulled out a chair and sat down beside Grace. "He mentioned something about breakfast–"

"Brea'fast i' on its way!" Tom singsonged.

"Can I go out in the back with Moose?" Ashley spoke up.

Kathleen nodded immediately. "Yeah, of course, Ashley! There are some tennis balls out back if you want to play fetch, Moose loves that."

"Dad told us to wait in the kitchen," Amy argued.

"It's fine," Kathleen said. "Tom's barely started breakfast."

Ashley shot her sister a smug look. "Moose, this way!"

Moose barked in approval and chased after Ashley as she ran out of the kitchen.

Almost as soon as the back door shut, the sound of the front door opening could be heard and George popped into the kitchen. "Good morning!" He paused at the three pairs of eyes staring back at him. "What, no 'good morning, George'?"

Amy folded her arms. "Good morning, George."

Grace pursed her lips to keep from laughing.

"Honey, what's going on?"

George strode up to his girlfriend and kissed her. He suddenly reached up his sleeve and pulled out a blue daisy by the stem and slid it behind Kathleen's ear. "Where's Ash?"

"She went out to play with Moose," Amy supplied.

"I said it was okay," Kathleen added.

George nodded. "Well then she's going to miss out on hearing about what I have planned today for the four favorite women in my life!"

"And what's that?" Kathleen grinned.

George motioned to the envelopes on the table. "You may now open your envelopes." He turned to Tom and gave him a thumbs up, which the young man returned.

Grace peeled open her envelope carefully and shook out the contents. She blinked in surprise.

"A spa package gift certificate?"

"Where did you get these?" Kathleen asked.

"How did you get them?" Amy chimed in.

"Well I didn't steal them, if that's what you're implying."

"No, but…isn't something like this really expensive? How did you manage to get each of us one?" Grace asked. "Not that I'm not grateful, because I am, but…how?"

George beamed. "I've been thinking about how I could help you relax since that talk we had last week and then lo and behold, the daughter of the Valley Spa owner comes waltzing into my shop looking to furniture her grandmother's new duplex and I offered her a trade: furniture for some spa passes. The next day I get a call from her dad and bam! That's why I couldn't pick you girls up yesterday," he said, looking at Amy, "I was ironing out the details down at Valley Spa and then I had to help haul all that furniture over to Mrs. Mark's place."

"This is really cool, Dad. Thank you."

Grace nodded. "Thanks, George."

Kathleen got up and worked her arms around George's neck. She kissed him a few times. "Thank you, honey."

George kissed the top of Kathleen's nose. "Baby, are you ever so welcome."

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"What are you gonna do, man?"

Ben sat on the sofa with his head back, staring at the ceiling. "I went to the bank on Friday and I tried to apply for a credit card, but they denied me."

"Why?"

"No credit history."

"But you've been working, so you've got a steady income. Doesn't that count?"

"That's what I said, but the woman at the bank said that's only part of what the credit card companies consider. A large chunk is that they want you to have an established credit history."

"That's the biggest catch twenty-two I've ever heard! How can you get a credit history if you're denied any initial credit?"

"She suggested I apply for a store credit card. Like Mervyn's or Kohl's. They're apparently easier to get and when you pay your bills on time it reflects well and begins to establish a history."

"But you were trying to get a credit card to help you pay your existing bills, not to get more bills."

"No-win situation," Ben said. He looked at his watch and pushed up from the couch. "I have to get to work," he groaned. "But thanks for spending the night. I needed the company of someone who doesn't blow spit bubbles."

"Hey, remember that time we made the spit bubbles with the toothpaste–"

Ben snorted. "Alice was so grossed out!"

"We should do that again some time," Henry laughed. "Maybe when Mercy's older?"

"I'll pencil it in," Ben agreed. He walked his friend to the door.

"Where's Adrian, by the way? I thought your parents' places were off limits?"

Ben shrugged. "I tried to call her after she stormed out of the house—again—but she refused to answer her phone. I figured she'd be home eventually, but she just sent me a text that said she was fine but that she wasn't coming home. The tension in the house since the hospital has been so thick, it's like wading through syrup every minute."

"Syrup's good."

"Yeah, but too much of it just makes you sick."

"I hope things improve."

"Me too."

"I'll catch up with you later!"

Ben nodded and shut the door behind his friend. He checked the time again and realized he wasn't going to have time to feed Mercy before he left for work, so he'd have to ask Briella to do that when she arrived. He cursed himself as he headed down the hall to the bathroom and turned on his morning shower, which he'd have to cut in half.

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By the time Adrian woke up, she realized her phone had died during the night, so she hadn't been awoken by her cellular alarm. She cursed the device as she sat up and one of Mercy's baby blankets fell off her shoulders. She was again sitting on the rooftop of her old apartment building—her old, old apartment building—which she hadn't been back to since May 2010, less than a year ago.

"I'm stupid, aren't I?" she asked the breeze. "When things get hard, here I come running to you, and you aren't even here to wrap me up in your arms." Adrian pushed a second baby blanket off her legs and stood up, shivering a little. "But sometimes the pressure just becomes so much that it feels like someone's crushing my lungs with their bare hands. It was never that way with you. It was always so warm and comfortable and easy. I thought that's what love was. I thought it would be the same with Ben." She laughed bitterly. "For a minute, I even thought I could have that with Ricky. But no, it was always you. It was only you, Antonio."

Adrian paced the perimeter of the rooftop three times before she returned to the blankets fluttering on the ground and knelt down to fold them up. It was Sunday morning and she knew Ben had work, but she didn't know what time it was. She did know that she needed to be there to watch Mercy though, otherwise Ben would have to call in Briella and they'd have to pay her for another day that they couldn't afford. She tucked the blankets under her arm and hurried to the rooftop door, hoping that she hadn't overslept.

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The library was nearly deserted, save for a few people at the public computers that Ricky had pegged as overachievers. On a Sunday though, that was to be expected. The library itself was only opened half the day and that was rare because even the public library was closed on Sundays. He'd come down anyway though, under the guise that he needed to do some research for a book report. Technically, that was true, but the research wasn't as dire as he claimed and he really didn't need to go to the VGCC library to do it. Still, he wanted an excuse to explore the library uninhibited, just to see what it might feel like to be a student.

Ricky eyed the people on the computers again, but they were paying him no attention, so he decided that it was safe enough to temporarily leave his backpack at his table and wander through the stacks in the history section. Through some form of bad luck he had ended up with a book report on Marie Antoinette and he was required to have at least two non-Internet outside sources to bolster his research. He meandered through the aisles slowly, shifting his eyes between a small piece of scrap paper in his hand which contained a few shelf numbers that he thought he might be able to use for his works cited, until he came upon the right one.

A quick scan of the shelves made him realize the book would be on the bottom. "Why not?" he said sarcastically, before squatting down and running his index finger along the spines of the books. He passed over the area that the book should be at least three times and then cursed the computer that he'd looked up the book on. "It said it wasn't checked out," he muttered to himself. "But I would pick the one book in the entire library that's incorrectly listed." He smacked his palm against the shelf in frustration.

"Do you need some help?"

Ricky's toes curled, gripping against the bottoms of his tennis shoes. He pulled himself up and turned to face the voice, positive he was imagining it.

"Ricky?"

"Clementine?"

"Wh – what are you doing here? Oh my gosh!" The young brunette woman exclaimed. She threw her arms around him, nearly knocking him over in a hug. "It's been so long since I've seen you!" She patted the top of his head. "And here I used to tease you for being short. Look at you now! How are you?!"

Ricky felt his cheeks turning hot and he tried to rub them to disperse the heat. "I'm good, I'm good," he laughed nervously. "What about you? Do you go here?"

Clementine shook her head. "No, I actually go to the university, but they don't have one of the books I need for my term paper. They have an inter-library loan system though, but that means they'd have to send the book to me through the mail, so it thought, 'To heck with that, I'll just pick it up myself.' What about you?" She squinted. "Don't tell me you graduated early…"

Ricky shook his head. "No! I – I came here for research too. I'm actually graduating this May."

"That's wonderful!"

Ricky nodded. "Yeah."

"So…who are you living with now?"

"Uh, the Shakurs. Margaret and Sanjay."

"Fosters?"

"Technically, but they consider me their son." Ricky contemplated telling her about their desire to adopt him, but decided against it. It was too complicated for a spur of the moment reunion. "I've been with them for several years now. You?"

Clementine shook her head. "I dropped out of the system when I turned eighteen and moved in with some friends. I never landed a steady home, I just kept getting shuffled around and–" A pained expression painted her face. "Anyway, that's all past history." She noted the paper in his hands. "What are you looking for?"

"Just a stupid book that's missing."

"Missing?" Clementine held out her hand. "May I?"

Ricky dropped the paper into her hand. "Be my guest."

Clementine studied the paper and then turned and looked at the numbers. She laughed.

"What?"

"You're looking in the wrong area."

"But–"

"See the zero at the beginning of this code? You should be looking in the thousands, not the hundreds. It's a really common mistake, I've made it before myself, more than once. Here," Clementine said, motioning her hand. "Follow me, I know where you need to go."

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"I've always wanted to try a Swedish massage," Amy said as they reviewed the spa menus they'd been given. "Having your body rubbed down for an hour by a big hunk of sex on legs? Where can you go wrong?"

Grace paled a little. "Having nothing but a sheet covering you as a strange man touches you all over your body," she said skeptically. "Where could you go wrong?"

"Sorry," Amy apologized. "I hadn't thought of it that way. We, uh, could request women." Noticing Grace's unnerved expression barely changed, she shrugged. "Or not at all."

Grace shook her head. "It's okay. Once upon a time, I used to think having a massage was nice too. It's just another thing that I can't have anymore. But never mind that, because your dad set this up to help me relax and forget about that for a day, so that's what I'm going to do."

"What about the deep cleansing facial?" Amy suggested in an attempt to steer the conversation in a new direction.

Grace nodded eagerly. "I like the sound of that!"

"I've never had a facial before," Amy said. "Not counting those do-it-at-home ones that make you look like something from a bad sci-fi movie."

"Oh, I think you'll like it! I had a professional facial once before when Adrian took me. Different spa, but it was amazing!" Grace touched the contours of her face.

"I wonder what Ashley and your mom decided to do?"

"We'll have to meet up with them later and compare notes."

"I still can't believe my dad managed all this."

"I know," Grace giggled.

"You think this is part of our parents' evil plot to gel our families?"

"I don't know, but if it is, it looks like they've still got a ways to go with your sister."

"Ashley may never be used to the idea. It sure took me a while."

"I hear you. It's not even your dad, it's just–"

"I know," Amy agreed. She stopped and pointed to the sign on one of the doors. "I think this is it," she said, comparing it to the map on the other side of the spa menu.

Grace nodded in agreement and reached for the door handle.

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"Damnit!" Adrian swore as she pulled into the driveway, noting Briella's car in her rearview mirror, parked across the street. She got out in a hurry and ran up to the front door. Inside, she found the nanny feeding Mercy a breakfast of oatmeal. "¡Hola!"

"Hola, Adrian," Briella greeted.

"¡Hola!" Mercy peeped happily. Her legs were swinging back and forth in her high chair as she eyed the oatmeal greedily.

"I'm not sure how much Ben told you, but I'm sorry he had to call you. I was…taking care of some personal things."

Briella nodded. "He mentioned that he wasn't sure when you'd be back. Much sooner than I thought," she said.

"I'm sorry you had to drive all the way out here. How long have you been here?"

"About twenty minutes."

"Is it okay if we pay you for a half hour, then? Will that cover the expense of having to drive out here and back?"

"Si. That's fine, Adrian."

"Thank you! And again, I'm really sorry for the inconvenience."

"It's all right, I've grown quite fond of your little nena."

Adrian pulled up a chair in front of Mercy and took the oatmeal bowl from Briella. "She's grown quite fond of you too."

Mercy fisted her high chair tray. "'Tmeal! 'Tmeal!" she squealed, reaching for the bowl.

"Well look at that," Briella chuckled. "She's finally getting a few English words down. Ben'll be pleased."

"I guess he will," Adrian sighed.

"Trouble between you and Ben?" Briella asked as she slid on her sweater. "Not that I'm trying to pry, you just look a little upset."

"Yeah," Adrian said, "but it's nothing I can't work through. I was doing that before I met Ben and I'll do it–" She looked at Mercy's glowing face and stopped herself as she was about to say long after him.

Briella patted Adrian's shoulder and blew a kiss to Mercy, who spit on her hand trying to return one. "Adios."

"Adios."

"¡Dios!"

Adrian limply stirred the oatmeal. "Mamá is sorry she ran out like she did." She leaned forward and kissed her daughter's forehead and then airplaned a spoonful of oatmeal into the toddler's awaiting mouth. "Is that good?" she asked as Mercy cooed clapped her hands in delight.

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"And here you go," Clementine announced while placing the book Ricky had been looking for into his hand.

"It's just like we're kids again and you're making me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich."

Clementine's head swished subtly up and down. "You are not a little kid anymore."

"You look the same as ever."

"Thanks!" Clementine spoke sarcastically. "And I thought I was over the acne phase of my life."

"You never had acne."

"Yeah I did! You just have selective memory."

Ricky smirked as he followed her out of the stacks.

"Still that same old smirk," she noted. "Where are you sitting?"

Ricky motioned to the backpack at the lone table in the corner of the room.

"Mind if I come join you?"

"Nah, it's okay, I'll move. Knowing you, you'll already have all your things neatly laid out anyway." Ricky grabbed his backpack and followed Clementine to her table, where his prediction proved true. He laughed as her cheeks flushed and leaned over to peer at her notes. "So what are you working on?"

"Just a term paper, like I said. I'm a History and Women's Studies double major."

"Sounds like you."

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," Ricky shook his head. "It's a compliment."

Clementine smiled. "So you said you're graduating this year? Any plans after graduation?"

"Actually…I'm thinking of coming here."

"Good move," Clementine nodded. "I wish I'd have done that. Would've saved me a ton in student loans."

"You didn't get any scholarships?"

"A few, but I was no Valedictorian. I'm working two jobs just to pay the bills."

"Where?"

"Waitressing. One job is at an eatery on campus, the other one's at a sports bar downtown. You should see the uniforms," she scoffed. "They hardly exist! But the tips keep me going back. I can't wait for the next three years to be over so I can get a decent job where people don't feel entitled to pinch my ass as I'm handing them their drinks."

"Can't you do something about that?" Ricky demanded.

"Yeah, quit. It's my word against theirs…but if I don't protest, the better the tips." Clementine shook her head. "But that's the last thing I want to talk about right now. C'mon, Ricky, what's going on with you? Tell me everything I've missed!"

"Eh," Ricky grumbled. "We'll be here a while…"

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"Hey, girls!" Kathleen greeted in the hallway. She wore a fluffy white terry cloth robe and some flip flops with sunflowers on the toes. "How are you enjoying yourselves?"

"We just came from the reflexology room," Grace said.

"Foot massages," Amy explained at Kathleen's curious expression.

"It was really nice," Grace nodded.

"Really? I just got a scalp massage, after my deep tissue massage. I'm really feeling their massages. Where are you off to now?"

"Manis and pedis!"

Kathleen nodded. "Has anyone seen Ashley?"

Amy and Grace looked at each other and shook their heads.

"Oh. Well...a mani/pedi sounds like fun. I'd join you, but the foot massage is calling my name."

"Does it sound anything like George's voice saying 'Kitty Kat'?" Grace asked.

"Grace!" Kathleen admonished as her face burned.

Amy sucked the insides of her lips against her teeth to keep from smiling, or worse, laughing. "We'll let her know you were looking if we run into her."

"Thanks!" Kathleen replied, quick to change the subject. "Have fun getting your nails painted!"

Grace snickered as her mother escaped down the hall and, along with Amy, burst out in full blown giggles once Kathleen was safely inside the reflexology room. They laughed all the way to the manicure and pedicure room and by the time they arrived their eyelashes were sopped and they felt like they'd pulled muscles on each side of their stomachs.

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After checking in on Mercy and finding her asleep in her crib, Ben entered the bedroom he shared with his girlfriend and found Adrian sitting up in bed, reading. "Is that for school?"

"Pleasure," Adrian responded. "The only kind I'm getting in this bed."

Ben used the toe of his right foot to step on the heel of his left, allowing him to wriggle his foot out of the shoe and kick it towards the closet. He then balanced himself against the wall, standing on one leg like a flamingo, and removed the other shoe which he tossed beside the first. He sat down on his side of the bed and slid off his smelly work shirt. "Briella said you got home shortly after she got here."

"So?"

"So, where were you?"

"Thinking."

"About?"

"Everything."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means we're in over our heads."

"Which is why we need to talk, but you keep avoiding it."

"Because it keeps ending in fights."

"And you keep walking out!"

Adrian smacked her book onto the dresser. "There you go again!"

Ben pushed off the bed and over to his sock drawer. He pulled out an addressed and stamped envelope, carried it back over to the bed, and set it between them.

Adrian gingerly picked up the envelope, looked at who it was addressed to, and turned it over to find it wasn't yet sealed. She lifted the back flap and inside she found a check, fully written out and signed, to the hospital. "So you just made this decision without me?"

"If I made it without you, I would've sent it already. Look," Ben sighed. "I don't know what else to do. I tried to get a credit card and was denied. I know you don't have a credit card either, but considering your credit history is probably no better than mine, I doubt you'll have any better luck getting one than me. So, we either pay it in full, we incur interest, or we ignore it and let it come back to bite us later."

Adrian stuffed the check back in the envelope. "Fine, pay it, if that's what you want."

"I'm not going to mail that without your answer."

"Pay it!" Adrian made a show of licking the envelope, sealing it, and throwing it into Ben's lap.

"You know it's the right decision. I don't know why you're the one acting like you don't know anything about finances now, you're the one always on me about how to save money and this may not save money immediately, but it saves it in the long run, even a dumb rich kid like me understands that."

"I'm not acting like I don't know what the right decision is, Ben. But when you don't grow up a rich kid, it's hard to let go of what little you do have, even if it is the right thing to do."

Ben set the envelope on top of his alarm clock and pushed his legs beneath the covers. "Would you stop throwing that in my face? I can't help that I was born wealthy no more than you can help you weren't."

"You were the one who brought up being born rich, not me."

"Well I'm not rich now, am I? We're the same."

Adrian massaged her temples. "The dictionary disagrees with you."

"Adrian," Ben grunted. "We need to move past this. Something unexpected happened. We're dealing with it." He motioned to the envelope. "No, it's been dealt with, so let's move on. While we're on the topic of money: what are we doing about the dance tomorrow? I know you have that dress you picked out for it a while ago and we both rearranged our schedules to get the time off. I was never able to sell the tickets, so if we don't go, that's twenty bucks in the trash."

"And if we do, who are we going to get to babysit? We'll be throwing more away to pay for babysitting than we'll be saving by using those tickets."

"I'll make a few calls–"

"Don't bother," Adrian interrupted. "I don't really feel like going anyway." She rolled and turned off her bedside lamp.

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"'Now I'm speechless, over the edge, I'm just breathless, I never thought I'd catch this love bug again,'" Heather hummed as she trotted down Ricky's stairs. She found him at his drum set, tapping away. "Hey!" She grinned. "Jonas Brothers! You hate the Jonas Brothers."

Ricky smirked. "Yeah, but you won't stop playing that damn song. It's stuck in my head. How do you even like them?"

"Lisa does."

"And suddenly all the pieces fit together."

Heather climbed onto his bed. "You're right, Disney boy bands aren't my thing, but that one song is kind of catchy."

"Now I'm speechless."

Heather rolled her eyes. "So, you ready for the dance tomorrow?"

Ricky absently tapped his drumsticks together. "I might have other plans."

"Say what?"

Ricky shrugged. "I told you I didn't really want to go."

"You can't return the ticket and Ash and I already bought tickets for Lisa and Toby."

"I told you that Toby could have mine, but you vetoed that idea."

"So you're just going to eat the ten bucks? What're your alternative plans?"

"None of your business, Red."

Heather leaned forward on the bed. "Oh. My. Non-existent-deity. Who is she?"

"Mom!" Ricky hollered at the top of his lungs. "Heather won't get out of my room!"

Heather hopped off the bed. "A name!" she cried. "Just give me a name!"

"Mom!"

"First name, that's all!"

"Hey, guess what?" Ricky said casually. "I bought a bag of clementines on my way home from the library."

Heather held up her index finger. "Just the first letter of the first name?" she begged.

"What's going on down here?" Margaret's voice demanded less than a minute later. She had her arms crossed as she stopped halfway down the stairs. "It's nearly ten o'clock and you both have school in the morning."

Ricky shot Margaret a grateful look and then turned a satisfied smirk to Heather. "'Night, Sis."

Heather folded her arms and mock stomped up the stairs. "I'm going to find out your secret!" she warned.

Ricky drummed the ba-dum-tsssh sound of a joke punch line as Margaret ushered Heather up the stairs. He waited until he heard the door shut and then got off his drum set and hopped onto his bed, where his leather jacket had been thrown on his pillow. He reached into the pocket and pulled out a small piece of paper, wrapped around a ping pong ball sized clementine. When he opened the paper and smoothed it out, it was a phone number with a hand drawn smiley face.

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"I really like the lady bugs on your nails. Having the dots shaped like hearts was a nice touch."

Amy nodded. "I took inspiration from that Love Bug costume you put together for me a couple years ago."

"Thank goodness these love bugs were less offensive to George."

Amy huffed as she admired her nails, painted with a fire hydrant colored base coat. She wiggled her fingers and the oversized lady bugs almost looked as if they were fluttering around her fingers. "I kind of regret getting the tips though."

"Really?" Grace asked. "I always wanted them when I was growing up."

"Me too!"

"And I've always been a little envious of Adrian's nails," the blonde admitted with a laugh.

Amy nodded. "They look pretty," she strummed her fingers along her knee, "but they don't feel like I thought they would. It doesn't feel like me."

"That's good to know. I was tempted, I really was, but I was afraid I might poke Christian's eye out or something." She looked across to the bassinet where her son lay sleeping.

"I think yours look nice though," Amy said. "I'm not religious or anything like that, but I think it's really pretty how they did the dark part above the quick and the top part as a glitter blue background like a field at night and then on your middle fingers they did the star of Bethlehem. When you press your fingers together on one hand, it really does look like a whole story."

"Thanks." Grace held her hand away from herself to admire her nail art.

Amy covered her mouth as a yawn escaped.

"We should probably get to bed. It's already half past eleven."

Amy nodded and slid off Grace's bed.

"Are you sure you don't want the bed?"

Amy shook her head. "The sleeping bag's fine," she laughed. "And you gave me so many pillows I'm pretty sure sleeping on the floor will be more comfortable than the bed anyway."

"If you're sure…"

"I'm sure!"

"Okay," Grace said uneasily. She turned off the lamp, leaving only the glow of the nightlight. She watched Amy settle into the nest of pillows on the floor and then turned to her sleeping son and gave Christian a quick kiss on the cheek, causing the baby mewl in his sleep. "Sweet dreams my little bugaboo."