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however, took it at face value. “Fine. He gets the design concept and he had a couple of good suggestions.”
    Merrilee nodded, satisfaction in her smile. “I knew he would. He’s a nice guy.”
    They’d covered that last night. Why was everyone suddenly intent on waxing eloquent about what a great guy Sven Sorenson was? She got it. She concurred. “Yes, he is.” And a heck of a kisser. In fact, she’d lain awake for hours reliving that kiss—still tingling, her thoughts and emotions tangling around her until the wee hours of the morning. She’d longed for the touch of his broad hands against her skin, the feel of his mouth against her neck, the scrape of his teeth against her flesh, the stroke of his tongue against her.
    Mr. Isn’t-He-A-Great-Guy Sorenson had been singularly responsible for the dark circles under her eyes this morning. And that more than proved her point that it was best to walk her path alone. It was far less complicated. And she wasn’t fond of sleepless nights tossing and turning in some ridiculous fever of want brought on by one, well, technically two, kisses.
    “His mom and dad booked a table for the play today. They’re coming.”
    Why in the world would that set off a storm of anxiety in the pit of her stomach? On multiple fronts the man was shaking her up, both directly and indirectly.
    “Oh, good. I’m…uh…I hope they enjoy it.”
    “Oh, Marge and Edgar will love it. And you’ll love them. They’re good people. Marge is over the moon with her first grandbaby, Tanya—Sven’s brother, Eric, and his wife, Darnita, had a baby right before Christmas. They’re crazy about that kid.”
    Couples in love…babies…families…it all seemed to be smacking her in the face suddenly. “That’s nice.”
    She didn’t really know what else to say. But she was getting the picture that the Sorensons were one big happy family of love and joy and tranquillity. She’d bet her bottom dollar none of them had ever broken all the dishes in the cupboard in a drunken rage while their kid looked on.
    Not that she wanted anything to do with her own dysfunctional familial unit, but people like the Sorensons always made her a little uncomfortable. It was as if they were all wearing clean white T-shirts while she had a big greasy stain smeared down the front of hers. She preferred to keep her dirty laundry to herself.
    She’d thought more than once that it would’ve been nice to have parents like Merrilee and Bull. Juliette had the feeling they’d have her back if she needed them, especially Merrilee.
    “Be prepared to ooh and aah over baby pictures, because Marge doesn’t go anywhere without her Nana Brag Book.”
    “Thanks for the heads-up.” This entire conversation made her uncomfortable. She didn’t want to know Sven’s parents were named Marge and Edgar. She didn’t want to know about Eric, Darnita and their cute bundle of joy, Tanya.
    She wanted Sven to remain just another person she saw in passing, just another resident who was handling the set design along with her. She didn’t want the details about his happy family. She didn’t want to be reminded that she’d never fit into that kind of dynamic. How could she, even if she wanted to? She had no experience with that.
    Merrilee reached to the table situated behind her and picked up a muffin with a napkin. “Here’s a carrot-raisin-bran muffin. Eat it. I know you’re not going to have time for dinner before rehearsal.”
    That was the kind of thing she loved about Merrilee. “Thanks. I think I am kind of hungry.” It had taken a while to get used to Merrilee’s mothering ways without feeling slightly smothered, but now it just felt good. Juliette simply hadn’t been used to anyone giving a damn whether or not she ate a meal or had a bed to sleep in.
    She bit into the muffin. It was the perfect blend of sweet carrots, plump raisins and hearty bran. “Yum.”
    “Have another one.” Merrilee was already reaching behind