The savory scents of fresh coffee and sizzling bacon mingled in the air with the sounds of Natalie's favorite tunes from the '70s and '80s. She sang and swayed while she cracked eggs into a bowl. "I'm hooked on a feeling. I'm high on believing. That you're in love with me." Holding out the last note of the chorus, she closed her eyes and spun around, her metal whisk held up to her mouth like a microphone. The song continued to the next verse, but when she opened her eyes, her voice trailed off. She cleared her throat and turned her attention back to the eggs.

"How … how long have you been there?"

"Long enough to enjoy watching you." His smile was mischievous. "Go on. Don't stop on account of me."

"Not with you watching." She touched her reddened cheek.

A chuckle escaped his lips as he closed the gap between them. Sliding his arm around her waist, he drew her from the counter. "Then, I'll dance with you."

"Adrian. I'll burn the bacon," she protested.

He leaned over and moved the pan of bacon to an unused burner. "There. Problem solved."

She took the hand he offered and followed his steps. "You're crazy."

"I've been called worse." He spun her out, then back in, dipping her low.

Natalie giggled at her husband's moves. The style of dance didn't match the genre of music in the slightest, but she continued without a word of complaint. After a few minutes, they slowed and she slipped her arms around his neck. "I'm not sure I thanked you for last night."

"It was nothing, sweetheart. Are you feeling better today?"

She threaded her fingers through his curls and gave him a tender kiss. "Much. I'm determined not to let tomorrow's concerns rob me of today's joys."

"Seems like I've heard that somewhere before." He leaned his forehead against hers.

"Sometimes the teacher needs to be taught."

He stopped swaying and cupped her cheek. "You're a good teacher. I can be a little stubborn, but I do listen. Now, I want you to go have fun with the kids today and not worry about me."

"I won't worry, but I feel so torn. On one hand, I want to stay with you, but on the other, I miss my babies."

"I know … truth is, I miss them too." He bent to kiss her, but before their lips met, they were interrupted by the screeching of the smoke alarm.

Adrian ran to disarm the blaring device while Natalie stepped back to the stove. She snatched the smoking pan and placed it on the cool side of the stove, moving from there to open a window.

He rushed back to her side, waving a handkerchief, and squinting through the dense haze. "What happened?"

She covered her mouth and coughed. "I forgot I turned that burner on to cook the eggs." She frowned at the blackened mess. "So much for breakfast."

The sink was already filling with soapy water while Adrian discarded the inedible disaster. He looked at his watch. "Go get dressed. I'll take you out for pancakes."

Natalie was halfway up the stairs before she yelled back, "Thank you, babe. I owe you."

Monk arrived at the San Francisco police precinct to find a chaotic ruckus in the bullpen. Captain Stottlemeyer stood beside Washington's desk, at which he was seated. A dozen other cops surrounded them, some in uniform, some plainclothes. Questions and shouts dominated the din as the circle closed inward, pressing in on the captain and lieutenant. A mixture of anger and confusion filled the air. Monk approached with caution, unsure of the cause of the commotion.

Stottlemeyer looked over the head of the officer closest to him, a look of relief washing over his face. "Monk! I'm glad you're here." He stepped with his arms outstretched, parting the sea of blue in front of him. "Come to my office. You too, Dwayne."

Monk followed the captain and lieutenant to the office, hearing his name called out several times on the way. He lifted a hand and nodded to the crowd. "I'll … I'll talk to you later."

The windows in the captain's office rattled as the door banged shut. Stottlemeyer ran his hand through his hair and walked to his desk. Monk tilted his head, observing his friend of almost three decades. Had his hair grown grayer in the last few months, or was it his imagination? Stottlemeyer flopped into his desk chair and loosened his tie before spinning to rest his forearms on his desk. He scrubbed his face with a deep sigh.

Monk took a seat in front of the desk, concerned for his friend. The graying hair might have been his imagination, but the bloodshot eyes and worry lines were not. "Leland?"

Stottlemeyer blew out a breath. "I'll be okay, buddy. It's just this case."

Washington brushed the last of his morning donut crumbs off his black pants and took the other chair. "It's blowing up out there. The news of Ross's and Gray's deaths have shaken the department like an earthquake. Everyone is demanding to know what happened, who did it, and should they be worried. Somehow word also got out there may have been a chain of custody break with the drug seizures, and everyone in narcotics is freaking out."

"Was there a chain of custody break?" Monk's brow furrowed as his eyes shifted from friend to friend.

Stottlemeyer sat up straighter and rubbed the back of his neck. "Possibly. We went back and pulled up all the evidence from the drug busts Ross noted on that pad of paper. The ones from the 11th, 12th, and 13th. We've got the experts looking at it, but their preliminary observation supports the theory. If you examine the pictures of the drugs taken at each crime scene, there appears to be a larger quantity than what made its way to the evidence room."

"Meaning some of it was removed somewhere along the way," Monk said. "Do the amounts found in Gray's safe equal what was removed?"

Washington stretched out his long legs and crossed his ankles. "Those bags actually held more than the original amounts from the drug busts. It was a lot."

"So, we might be looking at an inside job." Monk rolled his shoulder. The thought was not a pleasant one."

"Possibly," Stottlemeyer said.

"Did Ross and Gray work together?" Monk asked.

"They often did," Stottlemeyer said, "and they both worked the three days Ross inquired about. For now, I have Ross's partner out on administrative leave while we sort this out. Gray's partner is already out on medical leave."

"Medical leave?" Monk asked. "Since when?"

"Since Tuesday morning," Stottlemeyer said. "Evidently, he's pretty sick."

"What about everyone else along the chain?" Monk asked. "You have the arresting officers from the crime scenes, but then they would have turned over the confiscated items to the lab. You have everyone in the lab who would have handled the evidence. There's also whoever was in the evidence room when the lab turned it over for storage."

Stottlemeyer pulled out a toothpick. He popped it in his mouth. "I know, but we can't put everyone out on leave. We're setting up interviews with everyone who touched any evidence on the dates in question. You don't realize how many people are involved until you get a COC break."

Monk rubbed his eyebrow. "If Ross and Gray caught someone stealing drugs taken as evidence, that could be a motivation for murder."

Stottlemeyer found his anger management yo-yo and began the back and forth motion of throwing it out and pulling it up. "I've thought about that, Monk. Way more than I'd like to admit. It doesn't paint a pretty picture."

Washington scratched his chin where Monk noticed a new beard beginning to grow. "The problem is, Eddie Gomez. How does he fit in?"

Stottlemeyer caught the yo-yo in his hand and slammed it on his desk. We're going to start back over. Let's look at these cases from the top, along with what we know of the Gomez case. Let's see if we missed anything. I'm not ready to say we've got a rogue cop in our midst." He rose from his seat and crossed to the whiteboard on the other side of the office.

Monk turned his chair. He could see pictures of Officer Ross and Officer Gray from happier times, pinned to the top of the board. Below each of their pictures, gritty reminders of their deaths existed in the crime scene photos taken by the CSI techs. The evidence collected from each was listed below that, along with any interviews already conducted.

Stottlemeyer pointed to the right side of the board with a dry-erase marker. "First, we have Elliott Ross, murdered on June 16th, washed up on Alcatraz Island on June 17th. Cause of death: blunt force trauma." He moved to the left side of the board and pointed again. "Next, we have Adam Gray, murdered the night of June 18th, found hanging in his home June 19th. Cause of death: apparent suicide, but the evidence says strangling. Now, let's compare the evidence found at the scenes."

"Do we have the autopsy report on Gray?" Monk asked.

Washington reached to the captain's desk and retrieved a manila folder which he opened. "Yep. You were right, Monk. The cause of death was strangulation. The ligature marks on his neck did not match the rope he was hung from, the angle of the marks are wrong for hanging, and the damage to the neck tissues is consistent with those findings."

"Okay," Stottlemeyer said, "what about the rest of the evidence? For Ross, we don't have much because we don't have a crime scene. We know he was killed sometime between 6:00 p.m. and 10:00 p.m. the night of the 16th. We don't know if he was killed before he got on the boat or after, but we know he was dead before he was dumped in the water. The autopsy supports that. We have Eddie Gomez's wallet and watch found in the Peppermill Casino bag hanging from his ankle. His own wallet was still on him. We also have the yellow propylene rope fiber found on his jacket. From the boat ramp parking lot, we have the Peppermill chip and the candy wrapper. We can't tie them directly to his murder, but we are holding on to them as possible evidence."

Washington leaned forward. "We also have the evidence from Ross's home. We can conclude he didn't make it home the night of the 16th because of the mail on the floor and the waiting phone messages."

"That would explain why he was still in uniform," Monk added.

Washington nodded. "Plus, we have those notations on the notepad by the phone, and we have confirmation he made an inquiry to the evidence room regarding the drug seizures in question."

Monk laced his fingers. "Sounds like he was suspect of a COC break before it was confirmed."

"Which gives a motive," Washington said.

Stottlemeyer cleared his throat and continued. "Looking back over Adam Gray's case, we know his death occurred between 10:00 p.m. and 11:00 p.m. the night of June 18th. We know he was strangled with a rope. Besides the rope fiber evidence, we have the drugs found in his bedroom safe, the hammer from the garage, and the shoe prints also from the garage. Dwayne, did we get anything back on those prints?"

Washington returned the folder designated for the Ross homicide case and picked up another one designated for the Gray case. Flipping to the correct page, he said, "It looks like the prints are a men's size ten."

"Didn't Victoria Gray say her husband wore a twelve?" Monk asked.

Washington looked up from the folder. "Yes, and here's something else interesting. The prints—they were made by a pair of Sperry brand shoes, their newest style."

"Sperry?" Monk asked. "Aren't those popular with boaters?"

"One of the most popular," Stottlemeyer said.

"What about Gray's dog? Any DNA evidence found on him?"

"No," Washington said.

Monk interlaced his fingers. "So, the dog didn't attack when the perp killed Gray. What if he forced Gray to put the dog in the room, say at gunpoint. He could have also forced Gray to open the safe."

Washington leaned forward. "But if he had a gun, why didn't he just kill Gray with it?"

"I think he was trying to frame Gray for the murders and the drug thefts," Monk said. "That's why he staged it to look like a suicide."

"So, Victoria Gray might be telling the truth," Stottlemeyer said. "If so, she's right. We do need to clear her husband's name."

"Did we get anything back from that Craftsman hammer?" Monk asked. Were there any prints or DNA on it?"

Washington flipped more pages within the folder. He ran his finger down the page and looked up, his smile bright against his dark skin. "There was trace DNA evidence. Want to guess who's?"

"Elliott Ross," Monk said, his smile matching the lieutenants.

Stottlemeyer walked to his desk to lean on it. "I don't suppose they got any fingerprints?"

Washington looked down again and shook his head. "Just glove prints—same ones that were found throughout the rest of the house."

"Type of glove?" Stottlemeyer asked, his lips tight.

Washington cleared his throat. "Police issue …"

Stottlemeyer released a string of expletives as he slammed his fist on the desk. He returned to his chair and dropped into it, his face flushed. He picked up the yo-yo and stared at the steady up-down motion it provided as he tossed and pulled it through the air. After a few minutes, he stopped the motion and set the toy on his desk. He took a deep breath and let it out. "I'm sorry. I hate this case." He took another breath. "Let's look at the connections and see where it takes us. Start with the Gomez case."

Washington picked up the file of faxes sent to them by Randy Disher, flipping through its contents. He glanced up and caught Monk's eye, then frowned. "Well, first of all …"

"Spit it out, Dwayne," Stottlemeyer said. "I know where you're going."

The lieutenant sighed. "The police department connection, Captain. We've got the piece of fabric from the fence that matches our police issue jackets. Then, we've got the same glove prints we found all over Gray's house."

Stottlemeyer steepled his fingers as he swiveled in his chair. "Okay, what else?"

"Adam Gray knew Eddie Gomez," Monk said, "and Eddie's watch and wallet were found with Ross in a bag from a gambling establishment. Gray also had a gambling problem."

Stottlemeyer picked up a sheet of paper from his desk. "Got this in just before you showed up. We called the Peppermill Casino. They have no record of Adam Gray staying there in the last ten years."

"We're looking for someone else who gambles," Monk said.

"What other connections do we see?" Stottlemeyer asked.

"The yellow rope fiber," Monk said. "Did the two samples match?"

Washington closed the Gomez file and nodded. "I saw that report a moment ago. They match. Same brand."

"So, it is very likely the same person killed both Ross and Gray. Besides the matching rope fiber, we have the hammer which killed Ross show up at Gray's house. We also have the boat shoe prints at Gray's house, and Ross was dumped off a boat into the bay. Besides that, we have the drug connection. They were both narcotics officers working for the SFPD, working the same shifts and often the same cases. Ross suspects a COC break and the same kind of drugs in question show up in Gray's safe, which the wife swears he didn't put there. What about the candy wrappers? Did anything come off of those?"

Stottlemeyer leaned back in his chair. "None to speak of. There was a partial print on one that was smeared, but that's it. It's interesting, Monk, but I wouldn't give it too much weight."

Monk stood and began to pace. "It's obvious Gray didn't kill Ross, and he didn't have a motive for Gomez. What if we're looking at the same perp for all three cases, the two narcotics officers and Gomez? I think one perp killed Eddie Gomez and Elliott Ross. Then, when he killed Gray, he tried to frame both murders on him, making it look like Gray killed himself in remorse."

Stottlemeyer stood and came around to the front of his desk to sit on the corner. "You may be on to something, Monk, but I've got a few questions. If he was trying to frame Gray for the other two murders, where is Gomez's camera and laptop? Why not plant those at Gray's house too? Secondly, I get the motive for Ross and Gray if we're looking at a cop who got caught stealing drugs from the department, but what about Gomez? What's the motive?"

Washington stood, placing one hand on his hip and one finger against his chin. "Maybe there is a connection to all three victims."

Monk stopped pacing and turned to the Lieutenant. "Someone not on the force?"

Stottlemeyer looked up, his face more hopeful than it had been all day. "What have you got, Dwayne?"

It was now Washington's turn to pace. "Wasn't there a cousin or some other relative of Gomez who is connected to the Mexican gangs in the Mission?"

"Jorge Gomez, his cousin," Monk said.

"And Gomez was trying to pull him out of that lifestyle, right?"

"Right," Monk said as he arched an eyebrow.

Washington stopped pacing and turned back, facing his colleagues. "Do we know if Ross and Gray did busts over there?"

"We can find out easily enough," Stottlemeyer said. "What are you thinking?"

"Maybe someone in the gang over there has an issue with the narcotics officers, and maybe that same person didn't like Gomez butting into his business. By killing Gomez and the officers, then framing it on Gray, he killed two birds with one stone … well, so to speak."

"Let's chase that, Dwayne," Stottlemeyer said. "I want to know if either Ross or Gray worked that neighborhood, and I want you down there talking to people on the street."

"What about the fabric from the jacket and the glove prints?" Monk asked.

"Stolen or coincidental," Stottlemeyer said. "Those items are available to the public. They aren't exclusive to police officers."

Monk frowned and shook his head.

"What is it, Monk?" Stottlemeyer asked.

"It's a waste of time. Have you ever heard of a gangbanger who wears Sperry shoes and owns a Bayliner? Besides that, how many do you know go to Reno to gamble? We also have the testimony of Jorge Gomez and his girlfriend. They are both certain no one in the gang would harm Eddie because he was Jorge's family."

Stottlemeyer narrowed his eyes at his friend. "So, you're ready to condemn an officer of the law, but you're going to defend drug-dealing thugs?"

Monk threw his hands in the air. "I didn't say that. I'm just looking at the evidence."

Stottlemeyer slid off the desk and returned to his chair. "We're going to pursue Washington's theory. At least for now."

Washington left with a list of assignments from his captain, but Monk stayed behind. After a moment, Stottlemeyer raised his head. "Do you need something, Monk? You're free to go."

Monk crossed the room and took a seat across from his friend. "Leland …"

Stottlemeyer raised a hand, interrupting him. "I know what the evidence says, Monk, but I have to pursue every possibility, go down every avenue before I start suspecting my own people. Don't you understand?"

Monk tilted his head. "I do, but that's not what I was going to say."

"Then what?" Stottlemeyer fell back against his chair. "What were you going to say?"

"I'm worried about you."

Stottlemeyer's voice softened. "I'll be okay, buddy. You don't need to worry."

He leaned his forearms on the captain's desk. "I haven't seen you this stressed since your divorce."

Stottlemeyer stood and rubbed the back of his neck. "You're right. I am stressed. I've got these cases which I don't have to tell you are no picnic, I've got a boss who's breathing down my neck to make a decision about the promotion I was offered and a wife who's begging me to take the promotion, which I'm not sure I want. Besides that, I have a kid who's being stupid right now."

"Have you thought about the promotion more?"

"No. I haven't had time."

Monk stood and stepped closer to his friend. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Stottlemeyer looked at him, quiet for a moment, then allowed himself a half-smile. "Find out who murdered these cops. That's what you can do."

Monk placed his hand on Stottlemeyer's shoulder in an uncharacteristic physical display of his affection for the man. "I will. I promise."

Adrian puzzled over the present homicide cases, but his concern over his friend distracted him. Only the comfort of home could shelve that worry, at least for a while. As soon as he crossed the threshold, his mind was soothed by the balm his family provided. Sophia's laughter danced on the air while he breathed in the mouth-watering scents of dinner … and maybe dessert. He barely had his jacket off when he felt familiar arms around his legs.

"Daddy home! Daddy home!" Sophia hopped and clapped.

"Hi, baby girl." He scooped her up. "Where's mommy?"

Natalie appeared with Timothy on her hip. "I'm here." She wrapped her free arm around his waist and kissed him, eliciting a giggle from their daughter. "I know you just walked in, but can you take Timothy. He wants to be held, and I need to finish dinner."

He set Sophia down and took his son, who smiled, a dimple appearing in his chubby cheek. "Hey, buddy. You giving mommy a hard time?"

"He's fine," Natalie said. "I'm not normally in such a hurry, but I need to get dinner done so we can eat before Luke and Molly come."

Adrian followed her to the kitchen. "I didn't know Luke and Molly were coming over tonight."

She opened the oven to check on a chicken and rice casserole. "I didn't either until Molly called me about an hour ago. Julie's also coming after her rehearsal is over."

Adrian stopped chewing the roll he had plucked from the breadbasket. "She is? What's the special occasion?"

Natalie pulled out the casserole and took it to the table. "I think they just want to see you. I mean, other than the night of Eddie Gomez's murder, it's been a while since we spent time with them."

"I thought Luke was in L.A. with his family." He picked up the bread basket and followed her to the table.

"He came back today." She returned to the kitchen for the salad. "Molly had a doctor's appointment, and he wanted to go with her."

He finished buckling Timothy into the high chair and looked up, his brow furrowing. "Doctor's appointment? Is she okay?"

She squeezed his arm before helping Sophia into her booster seat. "I'm sure it's nothing. Probably just a check-up of some sort."

He returned to the kitchen for Timothy's bowl of pureed food and turned to retrieve his bottle from the other counter. Next to it, sat a covered container. "Natalie," he called to her. "Did you make a cake?" He sniffed the air above the container. It was definitely chocolate.

"Yes, it's to have after dinner when everyone is here."

He reached for the lid.

"Don't touch it!"

Adrian jerked his hand away, surprised by her reaction. "Okay, okay. I'll wait." He joined his family at the table. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were in on this surprise."

Natalie busied herself with feeding Timothy. "What surprise? What are you talking about?"

Adrian spooned some of the casserole onto Sophia's plate, then his own. "It's not my birthday. It's not Father's Day …" He continued to try and deduce what his family was up to until the doorbell rang an hour later.

Adrian opened the door, surprised to see Julie. "I thought you were coming later."

She enveloped him in a hug. "We were done practicing my parts, so I snuck out."

"Oolie!" Sophia squeezed between her father and sister.

Julie bent to hug her. "Hey, kiddo."

Sophia tugged Julie's hand. "Come play."

Julie allowed her sister to lead her to the living room just as Natalie returned with Timothy, freshly changed and cleaned from dinner. Julie took him from her mother and kissed his forehead. He returned her gesture with a coo, entangling his fingers in her long hair.

A few minutes later, Molly and Luke arrived, and they all found seats in the Monks' living room, Julie sitting on the floor with her brother and sister. They caught up and made small talk, but before long Adrian grew fidgety. He stood and paced behind the couch.

Jumping into a break in the conversation, he said, "So, Luke, you came back a little early. I take it your mother is well?"

Luke's eyes followed the pacing man. "Yes, she is doing very well. Her cancer is in remission."

"I'm glad to hear it," Adrian said. "And Molly, I hear you had a doctor's appointment today. Are … are you okay?"

Molly looked sideways to her husband before she smiled. "I'm fine, great actually."

Adrian stopped pacing and put his hands together. "Well, if everyone is good and fine, let's have dessert." He turned toward the kitchen. "Natalie made a cake. She hasn't let me see it, but …"

Natalie stopped him. "Not now, Adrian."

He looked back over his shoulder. "Then, when?"

"Why don't you sit back down for a minute. I think Molly and Luke have something they want to tell us. Then, we'll have the cake."

Julie looked up from her place on the floor. "What's going on?"

Molly looked at Luke, a silent question on her face. He leaned over and whispered in her ear. Then, he took her hand and nodded.

"Well," Molly began. "Luke and I have some exciting news. We told my parents at dinner tonight. I'm sorry if this was an inconvenience, but we just didn't want to wait …"

"Well, what is it?" Julie asked.

Molly looked at Luke. They were both beaming. "We're pregnant!" they shouted at once.

Julie jumped to her feet. "You're kidding! When are you due?"

"We're not kidding," Molly said. "The baby is probably due in February. We'll know more when I have my ultrasound."

Natalie and Julie squealed with Sophia joining in on the fun. Excited hugs were exchanged except for Adrian who stood back, scratching his head.

"Wait a minute," he said. "That's what you went to the doctor for?"

"I had my suspicions," Molly said, "so I made an appointment." She wrapped her arm around her husband's waist. "I was going to surprise Luke, but I couldn't keep it in. He flew back to go with me."

Adrian furrowed his brow. "But you just got married."

A pink blush rose to Molly's cheeks. "We were going to wait a little longer to start our family, but I guess God had other plans. This was a surprise."

Luke kissed her temple. "A very nice surprise."

Adrian's eyes darted from his stepdaughter to her husband and back again. "But you're not even thirty."

"I'm twenty-nine, Adrian. Old enough." She kissed him on the cheek before brushing past him to find where Natalie had disappeared to.

Molly found her, walking towards the table with a frosted, chocolate-layer cake. They all gathered around the table and Adrian could see the cake had been decorated with tiny baby shoes, baby bottles, and balloons. In the center, "Congratulations" had been written in a curly script.

Molly's mouth dropped open. "How did you know?"

"Adrian's not the only detective in the house. First of all, I saw the empty home pregnancy test box in your bathroom trash when I was at your apartment this morning. Then, I saw on your calendar that your appointment today was with Dr. Phelps. I happen to know Dr. Phelps is an OB/GYN because he subbed for my doctor when she went out on maternity leave." Natalie winked at her husband.

"But, what if you had been wrong?" Luke asked.

Natalie shrugged. "I bought a backup cheesecake just in case."

They all laughed except for Adrian who was staring at the cake. The laughter shook him out of his daze and he raised his head. "So this means I'm going to be a …?"

Natalie crossed to him and hooked her arm in his. "You're going to be a grandpa. Are you okay with that?"

He looked at her, the shock beginning to wear off. "I don't know."

Natalie urged him to take a seat at the table, then bent to his ear. "Sexiest grandpa alive," she whispered.

Adrian grinned and looked across to Molly and Luke. "Congratulations. I'm really happy, I am. Just no calling me, 'gramps'. Okay?"

Molly and Luke promised to come up with another name for their child to call him, and the rest of the evening continued with much laughter as the Monks celebrated yet another blessing.

Luke, Molly, and Julie eventually had to say goodbye. Adrian and Natalie cleaned up and put their sleepy children to bed. Once they were tucked in, Adrian came back downstairs and pulled out his photo albums. Natalie found him on the couch, flipping through them. Without saying a word, she came and sat beside him, leaning close and resting her head on his shoulder.

He closed the last one and leaned his head against hers with a sigh. "She would be so happy."

Natalie took his hand in both of hers. "I know she would. She would be really proud of Molly."

With his free hand, Adrian reached over and fingered the charm bracelet she now wore daily. "Thank you for my family, Natalie."

She stroked his hand. "Thank you for completing mine."

"I wouldn't have any of it without you, not even Molly or this grandchild on the way."

Natalie raised her head, forcing him to raise his. "I didn't bring you, Molly. You did that on your own."

Adrian shook his head. "It was you. I wouldn't have agreed to meet her if you hadn't encouraged me. And now, I can't imagine life without her. It amazes me sometimes. Each of my children came into my life a different way, but I love them all the same."

"It's a wonderful thing. You have so many people to love, Adrian and so many to love you. "Now, how about we go to bed, grandpa."

He frowned. "Can we hold off on calling me that, at least until the baby is born?"

Natalie tickled his side. "Are you feeling old?"

"A little," he said, feeling a bit sheepish.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and she gave him a sultry kiss. "Come on then. I'll help you feel young again."