JENNIE

Two weeks into the promo tour, we flew back to L.A so the guys could shoot the "Regretfully" music video with Niki. There was a feeling of melancholy in the air when Lisa and I returned to our room at the record label's house. And it wasn't just because we were dead tired. We'd been so busy promoting the album that the video had happily slipped our minds, but now it was all we could think about. Neither one of us was excited about it. Lisa had to pretend to make love to another woman. And I had to watch it, so that my mind didn't blow it up into some crazed, passionate porno. I'd always heard that filming love scenes was antiseptic and clinical. I hoped that was true.

On the morning of the shoot, I tried to alleviate the tension by waking up before Lisa and surprising her with a heart-pounding lovemaking session, but the reason behind the attack was all too obvious for both of us, and the intimate moment was laced with a fine layer of desperation.

Lisa was quiet on the ride to the studios. The rest of the guys were a bundle of energy and ceaselessly chatted about how excited they were to have an official video being produced. I was torn on the matter, both excited and full of dread.

The limo that Niki had arranged for us took us right into a movie studio lot. Huge, long rectangular buildings were stretched as far as the eye could see. Each building had a number on it, and as the driver slowly made his way through the maze, I couldn't help but wonder what masterpieces were being filmed all around me. Just the thought plastered a huge grin on my face that made Lisa chuckle. That made my smile even wider; being amused by me was far better than being sullen.

We stopped at a building labeled B7. The driver let us out and pointed over to where we should go. It was unnecessary, since Niki was standing in the doorway, waving at us with a glowing smile that could probably light up a small city. Dressed in a white tank top and skinny jeans that must have been molded onto her body they were so tight, Niki looked flawless. Did she come in looking like that, or had she already been to hair and makeup?

Her long black locks sparkled in the sunshine as she approached us. Tossing her arms around Lisa, she kissed each one of her cheeks in greeting. "So good to see you all again," she cooed.

Holding her hand out for me, Lisa gave her a polite nod. Not at all bothered that Lisa and I were physically connected, Niki looped her arm around her elbow and pulled her into the building. People in headphones were everywhere. There was so much activity that I instantly felt out of place just by standing still. I felt like I should be doing something, I just had no idea what it was.

As the guys gawked at the production before them, Niki started showing us around. There were multiple sets inside the studio building, but we'd only be using a few of them. Really, we'd mostly be using two. There was a set that was dressed up like a stage. That one filled me with warmth and comfort—there were few things on this earth more natural than Lisa on a stage. The stage set would be used for filming the band all together. Their scenes would be small snippets that would be tucked around the heart of the video. And the heart of the video centered around set number two—a wide room with a huge bed as the main focal point. Seeing that set made my stomach churn in unpleasant ways.

Giving me a concerned glance, Lisa squeezed my hand harder. As Niki sat on the bed, giggling in a coquettish way, I began to be filled with doubt that I could watch this. Just seeing her sitting on the mattress made me want to lose my stomach. But it wasn't real, and I could handle it. I'd handled much worse already.

Just as Lisa was about to say something to me, we were approached from behind. Dressed in his trademark impeccable suit, Nick strode into the room with a tall man with hair longer than my sister's. Pulled back into a neat ponytail, the blond locks almost reached his backside. Nick gave Niki a snake oil smile, holding his arms wide open. "Niki, baby, you look fantastic."

She melted under his praise, leaping off of the bed to give him a kiss on the cheek in greeting. "As do you, Nicholas."

Wrapping an arm around his pop star prodigy, Nick turned to Lisa. "Good to see you, Lisa." He lifted an eyebrow; the look oozed triumph, like he'd known all along that Lisa would agree to this.

Jaw tight, Lisa nodded. Ignoring the heat in Lisa's gaze, Nick indicated Ponytail Man. "Guys, this is Diedrich Kraus, visionary genius." He indicated the D-Bags. "Diedrich, this is Lisa, Lucas, Evan, and Jackson." He squeezed Niki's waist. "And you already know Niki."

Trying to ignore the fact that I was completely skipped over in the introductions, I watched Diedrich smile at Niki and then address Lisa. Reaching out for her hand, he spoke in a thick accent that I couldn't quite place. Swedish, maybe? "It is very excellent to meet you." Clasping both of his hands around Lisa's, he exclaimed, "The camera is going to love you! You and Miss Zefanya are going to sizzle every piece of equipment in this place."

He was laughing to himself when a man in a clipboard came up to the group and announced that everyone needed to get to wardrobe, hair, and makeup. Niki sauntered off in one direction while the guys were ushered a different way. Lisa kissed my cheek, telling me that she'd be back in a minute. I couldn't help but wonder just what her wardrobe would consist of. Hopefully she'd at least get to keep her underwear on.

While I wondered what to do with myself, Diedrich was called away and only Nick and I remained. Blue eyes hard, he turned to me and asked, "Are you going to be a problem?"

Lifting my chin, I tried to be as confident as possible. It was challenging, but I managed to pull off a firm, "No."

Nick gave me a lopsided grin. "Good. Because I'll have your ass tossed out of here if you mess with this production." Leaning in, he whispered, "And I'm pretty sure I could toss you all the way back to Seattle if I needed to. Just something for you to keep in mind, in case you find any of this . . . distasteful." Seeming like he didn't have a care in the world, Nick suddenly smacked his hands together. "Now, let's do this!"

Needing to do something with my nervous energy, I headed for the snack table. I was munching through my weight in carrots when Jackson strolled into the room. He was fully dressed—tight black pants, fitted gray shirt, loose leather jacket, and a studded wristband. I'd always found Jackson's personality distracting, but physically, he was a cute guy, and looked really good today. Standing by the set, he had a deep frown on his face. Looking around the room, he spotted me and started heading my way. Wondering if I wanted to talk to him right now, I popped another carrot in my mouth and debated moving on to the chocolates.

Grabbing a peppermint disc, Jackson quickly unwrapped it and popped it into his mouth. "This sucks," he murmured.

I sort of agreed, but I was surprised by his reaction, so I asked, "Aren't you excited to film your first video?"

Looking a little surprised that I'd acknowledged his existence, Jackson took a second before answering. When he did, he turned toward me, giving me his full attention. I had to fight the natural urge I had to take a step back. "Oh, yeah, I'm totally stoked. But they're filming the band scenes at the same time they're filming the love scene," he pointed over to the pristine bed, "so I won't get to watch Niki Zefanya roll around half-naked. It's not fair."

Wondering if maybe I should watch the boys instead of Lisa, I sighed, "Yeah . . . not fair."

Jackson seemed even more surprised that I agreed with him. I didn't necessarily agree with him, I just wasn't enjoying much of anything right now. Forgoing the vegetables, I grabbed a Kit-Kat and moodily chomped into it. Jackson watched me while he chewed on his candy. "You still freaked out about Niki and Lisa?"

Wondering how on earth Jackson had become my confidant, I shrugged and nodded. "Yeah. I'm really not looking forward to this."

Swallowing the last bits of his candy, he nodded as he looked back at the bedroom set that filled me with dread. "Don't worry about it. It's just tonsil hockey . . . maybe some grinding." He looked back at me while I grimaced. Grinding? "Lisa's in such a pissy mood today, I doubt she'll even get a half-chub." My eyes widened. I hadn't even considered Lisa becoming aroused during this whole nightmare. But of course that was a possibility; blood flow wasn't exactly something a person could control.

Jackson rolled his eyes. "You should have heard her complaining in wardrobe." His voice went up an octave in a poor imitation of Lisa's. "Oh, poor me, I have to make out with a hot superstar. Women fawn over me wherever I go. I have fucktastic hair and an eight pack. Boo-hoo."

Twisting his lips in a look of contempt, he made an obscene gesture over his privates. I couldn't help the small smile that crept onto my face. He was rude and crude and said things I didn't want to hear sometimes, but somehow Jackson was also amusing in a comforting sort of way, and I actually did feel better. Lord, help me.

Jackson was dragged away a few minutes before Niki showed up. Wearing a fluffy white robe, she looked incredible. As I wandered closer to the fake bedroom, Diedrich approached her. He indicated the crowd of people in the room, probably asking her if she wanted a closed set. Niki looked around, shrugged, and shook her head. Nothing bothered this woman. Slipping the robe off of her shoulders, she handed it to an aide hovering nearby. My jaw dropped at the skimpy underwear set she was proudly wearing. Even though I'd seen her in a bikini that was about as revealing, there was something about underwear that made it ten times more provocative.

Someone in the back of the room whistled, and Niki flashed a grin that way. Diedrich frowned and snapped something to another aide. I figured somebody just got fired. The bed on set only had a thin, silky sheet for a cover. An aide pulled the sheet back for her, and Niki seductively crawled onto the firm mattress. As she settled into place, Lisa made her appearance. Like Niki had been, she was wearing a robe. I stopped halfway across the room and watched her. She was looking down at Niki sprawled on top of the satin sheet. There was a look on her face that was close to sadness. It made me want to hug her.

Niki frowned at her expression and patted the bed beside her. Diedrich started talking to Lisa, maybe giving her pointers on how to make love to a woman—like Lisa needed pointers. I noticed that Diedrich didn't seem to be asking Lisa if she wanted the room cleared. I guess that consideration was only for Niki. Lisa was nodding as she started removing her robe. I chewed on my lip as her beautiful skin came into sight. she was wearing underwear, thankfully, but not boxers like she normally wore. Instead she had on low slung boxer-briefs. They looked . . . good on her. Some of the female members of the crew stopped and stared, but none of them were stupid enough to whistle.

Even from the distance between us, I could see that her chest was flawless . . . no tattoo. I guess the makeup department had covered it up. They probably didn't want my name all over the video since they were trying to promote a Lisa/Niki love fest. Her wedding ring was most likely gone too.

Before she crawled into bed with another woman, Lisa looked around the room. She spotted me instantly, and gave me a brief, troubled smile. This was hard for her. It made me feel better that it was. Jackson was right; Lisa didn't want this.

I nodded my encouragement and forced myself to step closer, to show my support. Lisa sidled up to Niki in the middle of the bed and she eagerly wrapped her arms around Lisa. I wanted to tell her that she didn't need to canoodle with Lisa when the cameras weren't rolling, but Nick was eyeing me warily, so I kept my mouth shut.

Another assistant adjusted the sheet so it just covered the couple's hips. Lights were adjusted, and reflective panels were put into place, giving the pair of lovers mood lighting. Cameras whirred to life, red lights on the top of them indicating that they were ready. Large screens beside them showed just how the recording would look in the finished cut. My gaze flitted from the real couple to the couple on the screen. I found it easier to stomach if I watched the television. Somehow that seemed less real.

On the screen, Lisa seemed nervous as she lay on her back beside Niki. Niki was propped up on her elbow, leaning over her, her dark hair brushing her shoulder. She didn't seem nervous at all. She seemed . . . ecstatic. Before I was ready, the director yelled action and the room silenced.

Lisa didn't do anything, she didn't even move. Niki did. Leaning over, she touched her lips to Lisa's. I bit my cheek so hard I tasted blood. Lisa tentatively kissed her back, but it was nothing that anyone would constitute as hot. Awkward would be a better description. Every move of her lips against Niki was clearly forced. Looking a little frustrated, Niki climbed onto her stomach, grinding her hips into Lisa as she did. Again, Lisa didn't react like someone in that situation actually would. All she did was lay there while Niki attacked her. Slightly frowning, Niki tossed her hair over her shoulder, and dove in for her mouth. Thanks to the close-up on the screen I was watching, I could see her tongue dart between her lips. I could also tell from how little Lisa's jaw moved, that she wasn't letting Niki in. Lisa was resisting; it was clear as day that she wasn't into this woman ravaging her.

"Cut!"

The sudden voice in the stillness made my heart skip a beat. I unfurled my hands and rubbed out the indents of my fingernails on my palms. I hadn't noticed, but I'd almost drawn blood there too.

Niki rolled off of Lisa while she sat up. "She's not giving me anything to work with!" she yelled.

Lisa sighed and looked over at her. "I'm sorry. I'm trying."

"No, you're not, Lisa," I muttered. Worrying my lip, I hated the fact that I may have to give my wife a pep talk so she could successfully make love to another woman on film. Which was doubly strange, considering the fact that Lisa had already filmed a love scene or two in her lifetime. In retrospect, filming fake sex should have been a walk in the park for her. But she was clearly struggling.

As Nick bellowed at Lisa to get with the program, Lisa searched for me. Standing near the monitors, I nodded at her and mouthed, "It's okay." She sighed again and looked away.

Nick was shooting bullets into me with his eyes, like Lisa's tepid mood was entirely my fault. It made me think that maybe I should leave so this would be easier for Lisa. Just as I was considering going to watch the other D-Bags, Diedrich took a more proactive approach to his temperamental actor's reluctance. "Remove the bra, sweetheart." Much quieter, he added, "We'll get her blood pumping one way or another." Some of the men around him laughed. Staying put, I clenched my fists again.

Niki shrugged and then removed her tiny black bra. She handed it to an assistant, not even bothering to cover herself up. How does a person get so much confidence that exposing their chest to a roomful of strangers didn't even faze them? It boggled my mind. As did the perfection of her bountiful breasts.

Tearing my gaze from her, I looked down at Lisa. Her eyes were averted and she shifted on the bed like it was the most uncomfortable place she'd ever laid down in. Even though she was in a spot that most men would willingly chop off their right arm to be, I couldn't help but feel bad for her. She looked miserable.

Niki either didn't notice or was choosing to ignore it. Climbing on top of Lisa again, she pressed her bare chest into Lisa's. Someone on the set made sure none of her unmentionable parts were showing while Lisa stared up at the ceiling and exhaled in a long, even breath. What I wouldn't give to know what she was thinking right now.

After one last nipple check was done, an assistant grabbed Lisa's hand and placed it on Niki's ass. Then they took her other one and placed it on the low ridge of her back—one of Lisa's favorite spots. Niki smiled and whispered something to her. Lisa looked down at her face and gave her a tight smile in return. Everything about her seemed tense, like she couldn't relax . . . or she was afraid to.

Diedrich yelled action again, and Niki leaned down to kiss her again. My heart instantly started beating harder, and I had to practice deep cleansing breaths. Lisa mildly kissed her back, her rigid hands glued into position on her body. It went on for a seemingly endless amount of time—Niki trying her damnedest to turn her on, Lisa barely responding. She was so different than the passionate person I knew her to be.

Just when I thought Diedrich was going to yell cut again and Nick was going to evict me from the premises, Lisa sucked in a deep breath, closed her eyes, and started coming to life. It began with her hands, traveling over her skin, playing with the indent of her low spine. Then she started kissing her with genuine fervor. Before I knew it, there were flashes of their tongues meeting on the mega-sized screen right in front of my face. Lip smacking had been clear in the air for a while, but now that Niki was getting a response from her, her light moans punctuated the silence. I felt warmth trickle down my palms as my fingernails finally cut through the skin.

Oh. My. God. What did I agree to let her do?

Now that his "actors" were getting into their roles, Diedrich started barking out commands—feel this, touch that, lift your head, kiss her there, roll her over. By the time Lisa had Niki on her back, she was completely and totally immersed in what she was doing. Tears stung my eyes, but I made myself continue to watch.

There was a camera at the foot of the bed as well as one beside the bed. The one at the foot was getting an impressive view of Lisa's defined back. The thin bed sheet was strategically placed low on Lisa's hips, just enough to cover her underwear, giving the viewer the illusion that she was naked. The sheet was so thin that it outlined her body, and every thrust she gave Niki was completely obvious, and disturbingly graphic.

The camera beside the bed was the one getting a close-up of their faces. That one almost disturbed me more, because the expression on Lisa's face was one I'd seen before . . . when she was with me. Eyes closed, she was breathing hard in between frantic kisses. Niki was squirming and groaning beneath her; it wouldn't surprise me in the least if she wasn't acting, if Lisa actually was pleasing her. Was Lisa pleasing her? Was Lisa aroused? I had no idea, and it drove me crazy not to know. I think knowing would have driven me crazy too, though.

Lisa's lips played over hers. her tongue ducked into her mouth, then slid over to trace the outline of her ear. Upon request of the director, Lisa's fingers trailed up her side, stopping right over the breast closest to the camera, cupping it. I thought I'd seen enough to give me nightmares for a month, but then Lisa ran her nose up her throat, her tongue stretching out to lightly taste her skin.

An irrational jealousy swept through me. That was my favorite move! And she was using it on this . . . bitch! True, we hadn't set any boundaries on what she could and couldn't do today, but, out of respect for me, couldn't she stay away from moves that were used in our bedroom?

Words that my mother had spoken to me last Christmas leapt to life in my brain. It takes a special person to be able to handle all of the attention she'll receive. Are you sure you're that woman? I'm sure my mom hadn't anticipated this level of attention, but her point was suddenly a valid one. Could I handle this?

I started to turn away from her, disgusted, but then I remembered the look on her face when this all started. And I remembered the pressure she was under to do this—by her band, by the label, even by me. And then I remembered what I'd told her when I first talked her into this, when she said she couldn't do it. Just pretend she's me. My eyes snapped back to her on the monitor. Was that what she was doing? Pretending she was me?

The director yelled cut, and Lisa froze and immediately rolled off of her. she kept her eyes closed as she laid her head back on the pillows. I could see her chest heaving, and as she swallowed, I swear I saw her jaw tremble. My concern for her instantly shot past my brief moment of jealousy. God, was she okay with this?

Niki sure was. She was fanning herself like Lisa was the greatest thing since sliced bread. How could she be so oblivious to her turmoil? Was I the only one that noticed how tightly she kept her eyes closed, like she was afraid to open them? I wanted to run over to her, to tell her that I wasn't mad, but after some quick adjustments, Diedrich yelled action again, and the making out continued.

When the camera was rolling, Lisa seemed fine—she smiled, teased, tasted, appeared like she loved her—but the minute there was a break, she went rigid stiff, and kept her eyes sealed shut. I don't think she'd opened them once since she'd finally caved and kissed her. She must be terrified of what I thought, of what she thought she'd see on my face.

The filming took hours, and I was exhausted by the time they wrapped. Looking pleased as punch, Diedrich profusely thanked his stars and announced that he'd see everyone tomorrow. Lisa shot up off of the bed, grabbed her robe from a crew member nearby, and darted off the set before I could even call her name. For the first time since it began, Niki looked sad as she put her robe on over her still-bare chest.

Ignoring her melancholy, I set off in search of my morose wife, but I couldn't find her. The place was a maze of hallways and people. I ran into the other D-Bags before I ran into her. Back in street clothes, a boisterous Evan wrapped me in a bear hug. "Jennie! You are not gonna believe how badass we looked!"

Setting me down, Evan searched the hallway. "Where's Lisa?"

As Lucas gave me concerned eyes, and Jackson chatted with a nearby blonde that I recognized as Lisa's robe holder, I shrugged. "I don't know . . . she kind of took off."

Lucas shrugged. "Maybe she needed air? Maybe ahe's waiting in the car?"

Not knowing where else to look for her, I nodded and let the guys escort me outside. Niki waved as I passed by her dressing room. She was back in her street clothes as well, but her fit body was still seared into my brain. As was the image of Lisa's tongue running up her throat. My stomach was churning a little bit when we got outside, and I inhaled the fresh air like I'd been in a stagnant cave for decades.

Evan patted my back, then pointed at a black limo waiting for us. "Car's here. Let's go see if Lisa's waiting for you." Eyes moist, I gave him a weak nod.

The driver opened the door as we approached. My heart was thudding as all of the boys hopped inside. I heard Evan greet Lisa. So she was hiding in the car. I heard Jackson ask her how it was, and I felt faint. It was awful. That's how it was. I hesitated at the car door, not sure if I could stomach seeing Lisa yet. It was all just too . . . fresh.

Hating myself, I ducked into the car and purposely avoided looking her way. I stared out the window as the car started moving. I could feel Lisa's eyes on me, but I couldn't bring myself to look at her. It was the oddest feeling I'd ever had. I recognized how difficult it had been for her, I realized that she'd pretended she was me so she could get through it, and I wanted to comfort her, because I'd seen how badly she'd been bothered by doing it. And yet, at the same time, I didn't want to see her face. I knew if I did, I would see Niki too. And I just couldn't handle it at the moment.

As the conversations in the limo died down, the tension built. Eventually, it was so thick I had to believe that even Jackson felt it. In fact, he started to ask, "Are you two fighting?" but someone elbowed him before he could finish saying it. Good thing, too, because I wasn't sure if we were or not. All I knew was I still felt ill, and I still loved Lisa more than anything.

I got out of the car the minute the driver opened the door and dashed upstairs, slamming our bedroom door shut. I had to see her. I couldn't possibly avoid her. I just needed . . . a minute. Grief welled in me, followed immediately by guilt. This was my idea, and I'd requested to watch it. All of this self-inflicted pain was unnecessary. I couldn't stop feeling it, though. Hearing the guys in the lounge area, I quickly walked into the bathroom and turned on a faucet so I could cry in peace. As I wiped a knuckle under my eye, I noticed my bloody palms from where I'd cut myself. Eyes wide, I scrubbed my hands under the cool water.

That's when the bathroom door was tapped on. "Jennie . . ."

There was so much pain in her voice, I shut off the water. I hiccupped back a sob and stared at myself in the mirror, willing myself to calm down. This was only as big of a deal as we made it. I remembered the look of horror on her face, the clear reluctance in her first few kisses. Those images helped burn away the heated, passionate kisses that had happened later. I could do this. I could handle being with her. I could handle being her wife.

When my breathing returned to normal, her voice called to me again. "Jennie . . . please."

Her voice hitched, and I heard a sound I'd never wanted to hear from her again. She was crying. Wiping my hands dry, I opened the bathroom door. She had her head in her hands, and her shoulders were shaking. I immediately wrapped my arms around her. She buried her head in my neck, murmuring, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Please don't hate me . . . please don't leave me."

I held her tight to me, my tears threatening to resurface. Stroking her hair, I shushed her, whispering, "It's okay . . . I'm not mad . . . it's okay."

Eventually, she pulled back to look at me; her eyes were red, her cheeks wet. "How can you not be mad after what you saw? How can you not . . ."—her voice hitched—"hate me?"

I held her cheeks in my palms. "Who were you kissing today?"

She scrunched her brows, confused, then her expression softened. "You . . . I was kissing you. I was thinking about the first time we made love . . . after you told me that you loved me." Her smile was radiant, even under the layer of pain still on her face.

I nodded, my smile matching hers. "I know. I could tell . . . and that's why I'm not mad. I know you were with me . . . and I love you so much."

Lisa sagged in my arms as relief filled her. "God, thank you. I was so scared I'd just lost you. You wouldn't even look at me in the car . . ."

I held her to me, nestling against her. "I'm sorry. I just needed a minute. That was . . . intense."

Lisa pulled back to look at me. "Never again. I don't care what's at stake. I don't care who I have to let down. I won't ever do that to you again. You . . . or me. I'm done playing their game."

I sagged against her, my relief equally palpable. Lisa started bringing her lips down to mine, and I bristled. Her eyes were wide when I pushed her back, the fear and tension instantly returning to her features. Cringing, I told her, "You . . . smell like her."

Lisa clenched her jaw, anger flooding her features. "Not for long."

Walking over to the shower, she turned it on high and stripped off her clothes. I smiled at seeing her familiar black boxers. I never wanted to see her in briefs again. Stripping those off, she climbed into the shower. I quickly added my clothes to the pile and climbed in after her. She gave me a brief smile as she handed me a bar of soap. "I want every trace of her off of me." Nodding, I got to work on cleaning her back.

When I got to her front, I scrubbed extra hard over her tattoo until the industrial strength makeup finally dissolved and my name sprang back to life. When it was visible again, I smiled and kissed the indelible ink. Lisa gave me a charming grin as she started working on sanitizing her hair. Locks full of suds, she gazed at me while I scrubbed her legs clean.

When I worked my way between her legs, her eyes fluttered closed and she told me, "That's the one part she didn't touch." She cracked an eye open, "But I do appreciate your thoroughness." Giggling, I reached up to kiss her. She put a hand out to stop me. "Wait. One more spot."

While I wondered what spot on her I'd possibly missed, Lisa grabbed the bottle of shampoo and squirted some in her mouth. I dropped the bar of soap as I gaped at her. "Lisa!"

Holding up her finger, she swished the horrid liquid around her mouth, then she made a face like she was about to vomit, and leaned over to spit it out. While she choked and sputtered, I started laughing. My eyes watered with merriment, and it felt so good. "I cannot believe you just did that!"

Lisa held her face up to the showerhead; bubbles foamed from her mouth and traveled down her chin. The tears ran down my cheeks as I laughed. Spitting and choking, Lisa scrubbed her tongue with the top of a loofah sponge. I had to hold in my stomach; my sides were starting to cramp.

Turning off the water, Lisa twisted her lips in disgust. "God, that was nasty."

Getting my breathing under control, I wiped the happy tears off of my damp skin. "That was not necessary, Lisa."

Lisa grinned as her adoring eyes searched my face. "Yes, it was."

Loving her more than I ever believed possible, I wrapped my arms around her neck and hopped up so I could wrap my legs around her waist. "I love you . . . even if you are insane."

Lisa was chuckling as she opened the shower door. "Good, because I think I'm going to be burping soap bubbles for a week." Tangling my hands through her hair, I gazed at her until I thought my heart might burst. She unwaveringly met my eyes. "I love you too, Jennie. Just you. You're my always."