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just…”
    “You just didn’t.” Jack sounded resigned.
    “I just couldn’t. It’s not the same thing. You can stop with the judgey attitude. You’re not any better.”
    “Whatever.” He gulped some of her imported beer. “You and dating is an issue that’s much too complicated to get into now, anyway. But if you weren’t dating…”
    “How’d I get knocked up?” Kenna took a sip of her tea. She could actually tell a difference. The dirt-tasting stuff appeared to mellow her out considerably. “Birds, bees, et cetera.”
    Jack gave her an annoyed look.
    Kenna let out an exasperated huff. “Okay, fine. First, there was a protection malfunction. One barren woman plus one fertile male does not a baby make—so no stress. A frank conversation about STDs followed, in which I confessed to a religious adherence to the principles of safe sex—minus abstinence, naturally.”
    “Naturally.”
    Kenna ignored him. “And he confessed he’d had a dry year.” Seeing the appalled response Jack was making no effort to hide, she said, “Just because he’s not a man-whore like you, that’s no reason to be shocked. A year of abstinence isn’t that long.”
    Jack uncrossed his arms and leaned his forearms on the table. “I prefer the term ‘sexually liberated.’ Man-whore sounds disgusting. And when was the last time you went a year without any?”
    She pointed a finger at him. “Not the point. I told him I was protected. He probably assumed I meant the pill, but I never actually said that. I mean, barren trumps the pill, right?”
    “Wrong. And who uses that word? You didn’t get pregnant while you were married. End of story. Besides, who’s to say it wasn’t your bastard, piece-of-shit ex who had the problem? Because, clearly, you got knocked up.”
    “If I weren’t so tired, I’d punch you.” Kenna sighed. “And you know he has two kids.”
    “You can’t beat me.” He smirked. “I’m bigger than you.”
    “Crazy pregnant woman armed with fire. Go ahead, taunt me.” Kenna frowned at him. “And I’m not that small—you’re just freakishly tall.”
    Jack closed his eyes and shook his head once. Basically the Jack equivalent of an eye roll. And he was right. He wasn’t exactly freakishly tall. But he was over six feet. Whatever. She was allowed a little poetic license.
    “What’s up with the crazy comments? I know some women can be more emotional during pregnancy—but that doesn’t actually make you crazy. Seriously, you need to give yourself a break.” Jack chugged the second half of his beer and got up for another.
    “Yeah. Normal women may be a little emotional. But—I’m a witch. That apparently means my hormones are raging sufficiently to create moments of complete emotional instability.” She saluted him with her empty teacup. “Unless we’re drugged with mystical tea.”
    She refilled her cup. She was allowed up to a medium pot three times a day. She was sucking the nasty brew down even if it made her gag. Anything to keep the flow of tears and extreme panic in check.
    “Hey”—Kenna waggled her eyebrows—“you wanna see it?”
    Jack settled back down in his chair with his second beer. “Sure.”
    She held one of the candles, and a small flame appeared almost immediately. When she set it down, it continued to burn. “Ha—take that, you little waxy devil.”
    “That’s it?” Jack said, pressing his lips firmly together, likely to suppress a shit-eating grin.
    “That’s big stuff. It actually stayed lit this time.” She laughed. “Okay. It’s not much, but supposedly I’m going to improve over time.”
    Jack chuckled. “Yeah. One hopes.”
    After she let her laughter burn itself out, she groaned. “I really don’t know how I’m going to handle all of this.”
    “Start with Max. Call him. See if he’ll meet you in person. If he will, then apologize all over yourself for treating him like crap and tell him you’re giving birth to mini-him. You know there’s