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bedroom from the closet and found Henry sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at one of the books she'd unpacked.  "You read romance?" he asked, his voice full of scorn.
    Samara sat down beside him on the bed, touching him from shoulder to knee.  "I do.  Do you want to know why I read romance?"
    "Why?"
    "Because romance books ensure something that no other genre does, something that is missing all too often from our lives today.  Romance novels ensure a happily ever after.  I can and do read other books, but when I want a true escape?  A world where I know the boy will get the girl, and the girl will love being gotten, I read a romance.  I read romance because I believe there's good in this world, and I refuse to think the way we see things is the only way it could ever be.  I read romance, because romance is worth reading, and I dare you to tell me it's not."
    Henry stared at her for a moment, realizing he'd hit a nerve.  "I don't think less of you for reading a romance—"
    "Yes, you do.  I see it in your eyes.  Let me tell you something, Henry Crider, some of the most intelligent women I know read and write romance.  Even some men read it, and if you ever want to be able to treat a woman right?  I suggest you make a study of it!"  She got up and went into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. 
    One of her pet peeves was the way people made fun of romance.  They acted like it wasn't real literature.  Romance books were the bread and butter of every publishing company, and if that didn't make them real, she didn't know what did.
    Henry stared at the closed bathroom door, wondering if she'd just closed it because she had to get away from him.  He looked down at the book in his hand and sighed.  He never should have acted like her choice of books wasn't good enough.  Being a husband was a lot harder than it looked.
    He put the rest of her books in the closet on the shoe rack, knowing he wasn't organizing them the way she would, but at least she wouldn't have to carry them herself.  Moving her suitcase into the closet as well, he touched her wedding dress with one hand.  Samara had taken his breath away when she'd walked down the aisle toward him, and he could honestly say, he'd been running scared since.
    Once Samara was certain she could control her temper, she stepped back into the bedroom.  "What movie do you want to see?"
    He shrugged.  "I guess that new romantic comedy."  He knew he had to make up some ground and figured a chick flick was the best way to go about it.
    "Sounds good.  I hope it doesn't make your goobies shrivel up and fall off."  She preceded him out of the bedroom and down the stairs, determined to make sure he realized he was in the dog house.  Why, if they were having sex, she'd send him out of the bedroom as soon as she was done with him and make him sleep on the couch!
    Henry watched her hurry ahead of him down the stairs.  She was still angry, obviously, and he wanted to do what he could to keep the peace.   "Do you have a car coming?" he asked, trying to be polite.
    "No, but I do know how to drive.  I'll see about getting one if I need one."
    He opened the door for her and walked with her to his truck.  "I'll get one.  You'll definitely need one here.  No public transportation in a town this small."
    "I'm used to walking.  It's not a big deal."
    "But it would be hard to get groceries home if you walked."  He fastened his seat belt.  "Regular car or mom-mobile?"
    "What's a mom-mobile?"
    "Like a minivan or an SUV."
    "I don't care.  Is one safer for the twins?" He hadn't exactly said it, but she had a feeling the girls would be her responsibility ninety-percent of the time.  It was a good thing she liked kids. 
    He shrugged.  "I'd probably feel better with you driving a medium sized SUV or a minivan."
    "Then one of those would be fine.  I certainly don't want the girls hurt if there's a wreck."
    "I'll look into it."
    Samara stared out the window.