When Al woke that morning, he was startled to discover, by the light of the alarm clock on the nightstand, that Lauren was in bed with Rachel and him, and that he was sandwiched in between them. The sensation was not as pleasurable as he would have thought. The bed was a queen and too small for three people to lie comfortably in it, even if Lauren was smaller than Al and Rachel and seemed fast asleep on the tiny sliver of mattress she'd been able to commandeer. The situation might have been fine if they were using the bed for other purposes, but he was only able to sleep if he was able to roll from his one side to his other, finding the most comfortable position.

He checked the alarm clock and saw it was only five in the morning, far too early to get up, but he couldn't go back to sleep now because it was too tight. He'd woken because he needed to go to the bathroom, but he wondered if his body had sensed the tight squeeze before his brain had and told him to investigate the change in circumstances.

He sat up as gently as he could so as not to wake the other two, curled his legs up and crawled slowly to the foot of the bed so he could climb off and use the bathroom. Lauren had left the bedroom door open, so he wouldn't make any noise that way. Once he relieved himself, he crept back into the bedroom and found that Lauren had rolled herself into being spooned against Rachel, who'd unconsciously thrown an arm over her. He wondered if, in her sleep, Rachel perceived it was Lauren against her, or Al.

He smiled and lowered himself into the space vacated by Lauren. It was too tight for him to go back to sleep, but he contented himself with watching Lauren sleep, her face, with her lips slightly parted, so like a child's when it was at peace. When was the last time the three of them were snuggled up like this? Months? Before Joe had returned, Lauren had behaved and only let Rachel into her bed at night, leaving Al alone in the basement on a thin air mattress. He'd understood, but it had been lonely. After last night and now this morning, he felt as cozy and content as he had back then, knowing the two loves of his life were here with him again at last, fast asleep.

Knowing that made him realize there was another love of his (past) life out there, alone in bearing the responsibility of informing her children that their father was dead, and he felt sorry for her and wished there was something he could do. Calling her last night had been awful, even if she'd kept a surprising amount of poise throughout the call, and even if she'd told him a lot about the people who might have wanted Patrick dead. He worried that the same people might come after her if they thought she'd testify against them. He hoped she'd take his advice and move to the townhouse. It was one place that they didn't know about, because it had no connection to Patrick or Agnes.

He watched Lauren's face until his own eyes drifted closed, and to his surprise, when he next opened them, the alarm clock next read eight in the morning even if the room wasn't noticeably brighter; without windows, the sun couldn't tell him the time. Rachel had roused, and she looked over Lauren at Al, her hair mussed and her eyes sleepily confused. Al shrugged at her, and Rachel shook her gently. "Babe?"

"Five more minutes," Lauren slurred. "Need more sleep."

Rachel kissed her neck until Lauren groaned and swatted her away, but she was blinking awake.

"Babe, what are you doing down here?" Rachel asked. "Why aren't you in bed with Joe?"

"Because Joanie is," Lauren murmured sleepily.

"What?!" Rachel squawked, nearly leaping out of bed.

"Joanie's here?" Al asked.

"They came in late," Lauren explained, and Al didn't know if the aggrieved tone in her voice was from the indignity of being kicked out of her bed by Joe's mistress or of being woken before she was ready. "Joanie needed a place to crash out of the eye of the media, and our bed's the only one long enough to accommodate her. Joanie made a point of assuring me she was just going to sleep because she was exhausted, and that there'd be no hanky panky going on."

"Still, your kids better not catch her up there, or she'll have some explaining to do," Rachel said. "At least when I was up there with you I had the excuse of needing a comfortable place to sleep while my ribs were healing." 

"If she was just going to sleep," Al said, "why didn't you stay up there? Your bed's bigger and more comfortable than this one for three, even if one of you is Joe."

"Uh, no thanks," Lauren said. "I'd much rather share a bed with you two."

Al was so touched by her words that he couldn't help leaning in to kiss her. "And anyway," Lauren went on, "I couldn't stay in that room. Both of them reeked of smoke; that explosion and fire must have been a bad one."

"Hopefully Logan didn't see you come in here," Rachel said.

"I didn't see him, and his door was closed." 

"Well, as nice as it is to wake up to you, babe," Rachel said, "I think we'd better get up and be out of this room before anyone discovers you're not in yours."

Lauren sighed and nodded. "Want to help me make breakfast, Al?"

"Thank goodness Al's back," Rachel said. "I was getting tired of cooking."

Al enjoyed helping Lauren in the kitchen. It was something he shared with her that he didn't with his wife, who preferred getting takeout or going to restaurants to cooking. He found cooking to be relaxing and, surprisingly, sensual: the scents of food and spices, the sound of sizzling meat in the pan, the feel of the knife slicing through vegetables, the taste of the end result. It made his senses come alive and, when Lauren was with him, the two of them trading off duties so seamlessly it looked like a dance, he had to fight the urge to put his hands on her waist and draw her in to literally dance her around the kitchen. This morning, while no one else was on this floor with them, she sank into him while she was flipping pancakes, and he nuzzled her neck, making her giggle in delight. Remembering what she did with him last night, he felt himself swelling against Lauren's backside, and she cooed, "Al, the others will be down soon, cool your jets."

"I can't help it. You're so fetching in your tank top and boxers."

She turned to face him, and her nipples were poking through the cotton of her tank top. She grabbed his face and kissed him hard, then broke off and said, "That will have to do for now."

Rachel emerged from the basement with more layers on than Lauren, and when she noticed Lauren's state of excitement she raised her eyebrows. "Really, guys? I think you need to get more clothes on, babe, before you scandalize the children."

"I don't want to go upstairs and risk discovering hanky panky had indeed gone on," Lauren said.

She didn't need to worry. Joanie was already descending the stairs. The three of them stared at her like deer caught in the headlights. Joanie, who was in just a small robe, stared back at them and said, "I think I left my overnight bag down here by mistake. I need to get changed."

"Okay," Lauren said.

Finally Al found his voice and said, "We're happy you're here and safe, Joanie. If there's anything you need..."

Joanie shrugged. "Joe mentioned maybe staying at your place for a while."

"Oh!" Al looked at Rachel, who shrugged. "Sure. I'm sure Agnes will be okay sharing."

"Wait, hold on," Lauren said. "Did Patrick move into that house? The one in Queensborough?"

Joanie blinked in surprise. "Yes. I stayed there a night or two." 

To Al's horror, Joanie's face crumpled, and she furiously wiped tears away. "Shit," she hissed.

To everyone's surprise, Lauren came forward and hugged her. Instead of making Joanie cry harder, though, it seemed to shock her out of her grief, maybe because she was painfully aware there wasn't a whole lot of fabric between them, and Joanie awkwardly patted her on the back.

When they unlocked, Lauren said, "What if, instead of you and Agnes' family potentially sharing the townhouse, Agnes moves into Patrick's house? Wouldn't she still be the beneficiary of any belongings unless he made a will stating otherwise?"

Joanie thought about it for a moment, then sighed and said, "Probably. We never got serious enough for him to change his will in my favour."

"Are you sure whoever killed Patrick doesn't know about the house, though?" Al asked. "They've probably been following him for a while if they got him on your street."

He was afraid Joanie would get emotional again at the mention of Patrick and what happened to him, but instead something worse happened. A dark, ugly look crossed her face, and she growled, "Then I'll take Patrick's house, and if they come at me I'll fucking kill them one by one."

Lauren took a step back from her. "Whoa, girl, I like your determination, but you're kind of freaking me out."

Joanie's gaze fell upon her, and Al could only describe it as the face a berserker wore as he went into battle. "Want to join me? You always talk about using that samurai sword of yours. We can ambush them if they dare to come."

"Or," Al ventured, a little frightened, "you could let your fellow police do their jobs and track these guys down before they make another move."

Joanie turned that fierce gaze on him, and Al feared she was going to punch him. She really could break him over her knee, he thought.

"Before we make any decisions," Rachel said, hands raised in placation, "I think we need to tell Sunny about this development. If he's representing Agnes in the divorce, he should make the claim for the house on her behalf."

"Do you want to call him, or should I?" Lauren asked, giving her a suggestive smile. "And how bright will his day be when we do?"

Rachel chuckled and threw her arm around Al. "Shut up," she said, low and conspiratorial.

Joanie frowned at both of them in confusion.

Rachel cleared her throat and said, "Lauren, you go up to your room and put more clothes on. I'll call Sunny."

The two of them went off to separate floors. Al was left to finish cooking breakfast while Joanie stared at him. Now that they were alone, he thought he caught a faint smell of smoke off her. He didn't know why she didn't go off herself to change, or even to shower to get rid of that smell that had to remind her of the terrible thing that happened to Patrick, and thought maybe she wanted to say something, maybe to tell him off for his last remark.

Instead, she said, "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," he said.

"Why haven't you moved yet? It's been two months since Agnes first took you up on your offer. Are you really such good people that you don't want to deny Agnes a place to go to hide out from her ex?"

"I think she needs to hide out from whoever killed him, now."

"Fine, but I think there's more to it than that. You guys, all of you guys, you and your Lawrence Street Detective Club. It's almost unhealthy, how close you all are."

Al blinked in surprise. "You disapprove."

Joanie shrugged. "It's not for me to approve or disapprove. I just see a situation where you're living in the house of the man whose wife you've slept with, and you haven't been kicked out because he's slept with yours, and somehow, some way, all of you are maintaining this irrational equilibrium where you're still all buddy-buddy. I wouldn't be surprised if you were having orgies every night."

Al looked away from her to plate the finished pancakes, wondering what Joanie would say if he told her about last night. She and Joe would be through for sure, he thought. Joanie might be able to forgive him for Rachel, but not for still one more "other woman" in his life. He chose not to tell her, though, because he liked her and didn't want her to leave their circle, and he needed to repay Joe for his kindness in letting them stay here. Also, he thought it unlikely that Joe and Tej would ever happen again, if only because the logistics of it would hamper them; for it to happen, the whole group would need to make the same arrangement they did for last night, and he wasn't sure Rachel and Lauren had the same appetite for it anymore, not after how Rachel had acted with him after it had been over.

Instead, he said, "I wouldn't say Joe and I are buddy-buddy. We still barely speak."

"Still. You're living in this house."

He shrugged. "I guess it's just not the right time to leave. Maybe once all this is over, Agnes can feel safe living in the house her ex bought just before he died, and then we can move into the townhouse at last."

She nodded, but she didn't look convinced. By this time, though, Lauren was descending the stairs again, dressed in Lululemon pink t-shirt and yoga pants that were no less sexy, in Al's opinion, than her night wear, but he didn't let his eyes linger because Joe was right behind her, still looking sleepy. He wondered how much sleep he and Joanie got last night; they must have been hours with the police as Joanie told her story over and over again.

"There's coffee in the coffee maker, everyone," Al announced. "You look like you need it."

Joe gratefully poured cups for himself, his wife and his lover, and he sat while Joanie went off to change. Lauren started cracking eggs while he put the pancakes in the oven to keep warm and turned the sausages sizzling in the pan. By the time breakfast was ready, Rachel had reemerged from calling Sunny and the children had followed their noses out of sleep to wakefulness, descending the stairs and sitting eagerly around the table. When Joanie emerged from the main floor powder room, fully dressed, they all stopped chatting and stared at her.

"Joanie's here!" Emma said in amazement.

"Hi, Joanie," Naomi said, brow furrowed. "You're here early."

Joanie shrugged awkwardly. "Yeah, sorry, I had some business to discuss with the grown-ups that couldn't wait until later."

"Come have breakfast!" Emma said, cheerfully ignorant of the awkwardness of the situation. "We'll share!"

Joanie smiled and made a point of sitting on Emma's other side. "Thanks kiddo," she said. "It all looks delicious. Have you all had a good weekend so far?"

Emma nodded eagerly and said, "We went to Naomi's grandparents', and Sensei Toshiro taught me aikido."

Joanie's eyes widened. "Oh! That sounds like fun. It's good to learn a little self-defence. Were you all there?"

"Me, Naomi and Tosh. Logan was out with his friends, I guess he got in late because he's still asleep. The grown-ups wanted a date night."

Joanie looked at Joe and said, "Is that right? Did they go out somewhere?"

Emma shrugged. "Maybe. They were all home when we got home, though."

"We're getting older," Lauren said in an attempt to divert this dangerous line of questioning, which Al found rather distasteful on Joanie's part. "We can't stay out late anymore."

Joanie nodded shrewdly but, thankfully, didn't press on. Maybe she felt like she'd gone as close to the edge of the cliff as was safe.

"Sunny's going to call Agnes about the house," Rachel said. "He's also calling Mandeep Randhawa. The police are going to inform Agnes as next of kin, and her rights need to be protected if they start asking her questions."

"Is Agnes in trouble, Al?" Emma asked. "I hope she's not, I like her."

Al chuckled and said, "No, kiddo. She's all right, but her ex-husband unfortunately died last night. It's very sad."

Joanie put her face in her hands and shook quietly.

Emma turned to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. "It's okay to cry when someone dies," she said. "I cried when my mom died."

To everyone's surprise, Joanie threw her arms around Emma and wept into her shoulder. Emma patted her back and repeated, "It's okay, it's okay."

Naomi, looking jealous, either of Emma comforting someone who wasn't her, or Joanie crying on Emma's shoulder and not hers, said, "Did you know the guy, Joanie?"

Joanie sniffled and wiped her eyes, then looked over at Naomi and smiled sadly. "Yeah. I worked with him. He was a good friend."

Al looked at Joe, who looked like he was chewing glass, and with spiteful satisfaction surmised that no hanky panky had gone on upstairs after all. 

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To see how Sunny helps Agnes during her time of grief, click on "Continue reading."