It was getting a little loud. Mick was playing some rock, the speakers making the walls shake. She was getting nervous. They were supposed to keep the weed outside and the noise down. They were going to wake the baby! And the windows were open! These fumes—could hurt the baby! The noise wasn’t good for him! She went to Mick and appealed to him to clear the place out if he couldn’t manage them, the people who gathered around. But he didn’t acknowledge her. Her ears were ringing and she decided it would be best if she gathered up the baby and went to her mother’s house, but she couldn’t find the baby. She should call the police or run to the house next door—but the neighbors were also in her yard, enjoying the music.

She was trying to get to her car but her legs wouldn’t carry her and her car wasn’t where it was supposed to be and she had no baby. She wanted to call for help but she just cried like a little fool. Mick was telling her to settle down, she wanted this. This is what you signed on for, he reminded her, frowning at her, going back to his guitar and singing. Then he was kissing someone, some woman she’d never seen before.

Her stomach was in a knot and she was gasping for breath. Her head hurt. In the way dreams can be wild, she was pregnant, then she was searching for the baby and couldn’t find him.

Her eyes flew open. She was trying to catch her breath, as if she’d been running. Her heart was pounding relentlessly and it took her a second to realize it was all a dream.

Instinctively, she rolled over, looked at her phone, saw Matt’s number and hit the redial. His groggy voice answered instantly. “What?” he said. “What’s the matter!”

“Oh, God,” she said, suddenly aware she was calling him in the middle of the night. “I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It’s nothing.”

“It’s something,” he said. “What is it?”

“It’s nothing,” she said, willing herself to be calmer. She tried to slow her breathing. “I had a bad dream. I just reached for the phone. And woke you. Jeez—they’re going to lock me up. I’m crackers.” She ran a hand through her hair. “My God, I’m just plain nuts.”

“It’s okay,” he said more calmly. “It’s okay. Just tell me what’s wrong and we’ll talk it through.”

She looked at the clock. “Never mind. You have to wake up in two hours and I’m fine.”

“I can sleep in. Till, like, four thirty.”

She laughed in spite of herself, wiping her cheeks. “I bet you wish anyone but me had knocked you out at your sister’s wedding.”

“That is a privilege I would grant only you,” he said. “What did you dream? Was it about the baby?”

“Yes and no. It was about my early years with Mick, back when we moved in together. Our house was a party house. It was my house. I rented it. When he was around, every night was spent rehearsing. There were always people around—sometimes a few, sometimes a crowd—groupies, musicians, you know. Music, noise, smoke, drugs. I wasn’t into drugs, by the way. I tried some pot once, drank a little too much a few times, years before starting a family, but...”

“I was in a fraternity,” he said. “You don’t have to explain.”

“Sounds like a never-ending college party, right? I thought it would change when we got married, but it didn’t. Why did I think it would change? He never said it would. In my dream, I was concerned about the baby, about the noise and the smoke and the baby and he was telling me to chill. And then I couldn’t find the baby,” she finished in a weak whisper.

“Matt, I never had the baby in that house with the parties. I left when I was barely pregnant. I told Mick I was going to stay with my parents until he could wrap his head around the fact that we were having a family and the lifestyle wasn’t healthy. I couldn’t be around all that second-hand smoke and I needed to sleep! That’s when he told me it wouldn’t work for him. He was sorry I didn’t get it, but that whole family and baby thing just wasn’t for him.”

He was quiet for a second. “The stress,” he said. “I think all the stress is getting to you, Ginger. The wedding, the dress, the pregnant girlfriends...”

“No, no, that’s not it. He called me. Right after we hung up, Mick called.”

“What did he want?” Matt asked, sounding more alert now.

She laughed a little. “He thought it was so great that I came to hear him sing. He thought we should get together. To talk about our good history.”

“And you said...?”

“I called him an arrogant asshole and hung up on him, then he texted me and said I had some hostility.”

“Jesus,” he muttered. “You know, I’ve made some incredible blunders, but that defies imagination.”

“It does, doesn’t it? He used to bring his guitar to holiday dinners with my parents and brothers and serenade them. He didn’t notice that they rolled their eyes and wandered away.”

“Always a show, eh?” Matt asked.

“How did I not know how ridiculous he was?”

Matt laughed. “My ex used to tiptoe through the goat shit in her spike heels when she’d come to a family dinner with me. High heels, tight, short skirt, nails like red talons. Everyone in the family looked at her like she was a clown, dressed for the circus, but I didn’t even notice how inappropriate she was. Well, not for a year or so...”

“What do you suppose happens to us?”

“I don’t know what happened to you but I was pumping about a thousand pounds of fresh testosterone,” he said. “I figured it out, just not quick enough.”

“Is that why you divorced? Because you finally figured it out?”

He thought for a second. “No, Ginger. Because she wasn’t just fancy and self-absorbed on the outside. I’d have been happy to carry her through the muck and offal of the farm. But then I found out she was like that on the inside.”

“I never would have guessed how much we have in common.”

“You have no idea. Now put your little head down. See if you can get some sleep...”

“I’ll say good-night,” she said.

“You don’t have to say good-night. Leave the line open. I’ll be right here if you need me.”

“We can’t do that,” she said. “Our phones will run out of juice and then we won’t be able to call anyone.”