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popping out that many babies?” Lips pursed, Prissy unwrapped her beach towel and looked down at herself, critically assessing her gently rounded belly, flared hips, and thick, healthy thighs. She frowned. “I wish I could get rid of these damn stretch marks.”
    “Girl, please. Did you hear what I just said? You’re a mother of five. Those stretch marks are your badge of honor.”
    Prissy snorted, shooting an envious glance at Celeste’s smooth, slender thighs.
    “Easy for you to say. You don’t have any stretch marks.”
    “I also don’t have a bodacious booty that makes grown men act a damn fool whenever I walk by. You obviously didn’t notice all the heads you turned when you strolled across the beach to get in the water. But your husband sure noticed,” Celeste added with a chuckle. “Girl, one brotha was ogling you so hard, I thought Stan was gonna kill him.”
    Prissy laughed. “You’re right. I completely missed all that. But it’s nice for Stan to see how I feel sometimes, watching the way women throw themselves at him. It’s ridiculous.”
    Celeste smiled ruefully. “I guess that’s the price you pay for being married to a tall, dark, and handsome firefighter.”
    Prissy sighed, staring across the beach. “Tell me about it.” Celeste followed the direction of her sister-in-law’s gaze to the water, where Stanton, Sterling, and the boys were laughing and splashing in the frothy waves, their beautiful dark skin glistening in the sun.
    That morning, the two families had packed a large picnic basket, donned their swimwear, and headed to Tybee Island, a scenic coastal town located twenty miles outside of Savannah. Only Mama Wolf had stayed behind, needing time to recover from yesterday’s sightseeing excursion.
    Once they arrived at the crowded beach, Celeste had pulled out a few magazines, stretched out on a lounge chair beneath an umbrella, and contented herself with relaxing in the shade while everyone else went swimming. After the steamy workout she and Sterling had given each other last night, she’d earned the right to be lazy.
    “I think Stan’s having an affair.”
    Startled out of her reverie, Celeste swung her head around to stare at Prissy.
    “ What did you say?”
    Meeting her stunned gaze, Prissy said quietly, “I think Stan’s cheating on me.” Celeste gasped. “Why on earth would you think something like that?”
    “It’s the way he’s been acting lately. Distracted, restless…unhappy.” Her voice dropped to a trembling whisper. “I think there’s someone else.”
    “Oh, honey,” Celeste said soothingly, setting aside her Jet magazine and sitting up on the chair so that she could face her sister-in-law. “I’m sorry, but those aren’t good enough reasons to assume your husband’s cheating on you.
    Maybe he’s just stressed out from work—”
    “He’s been putting out fires for fourteen years,” Prissy interrupted. “By now he should be used to the pressures and dangers of the job. Besides, I know it’s not that. He loves being a firefighter. He couldn’t imagine doing anything else.”
    “All right, so maybe it’s not work. Maybe something else is bothering him.” Celeste hesitated, then gently confided, “Sterling told me that Stan and the boys aren’t adjusting well to Denver. They want to move back home.” Prissy nodded, guilt flashing in her dark eyes. “I know they’re not crazy about Denver. And I know, to some extent, they blame me for uprooting them the way I did. But I had no other choice. I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to make twice what I was earning as a high school principal in Atlanta. And God knows it’s impossible to support a family of seven on a fireman’s salary.” She grimaced, hearing her own words. “That didn’t come out right. I don’t begrudge Stan’s career choice. Ever since his parents died in that house fire when he was younger, he’s wanted to become a firefighter, and he’s damn good at it.” She