So, this wasn't awkward at all.

In fact, it was so not awkward, that Ophelia was literally fidgeting in her chair every thirty seconds or so, and hadn't gotten through more than a paragraph of the book she had been attempting to read for the past fifteen minutes. Suppressing the urge to groan in frustration, she moved again, pulling her legs up next to her and repositioning herself in the library's large armchair, while at the same time attempting to keep from glancing up at her boyfriend--no, husband, husband now--just across the room.

In truth, this shouldn't be this awkward. Sitting around in the library after dinner with Grayson, reading a book, had never been weird. Or, at least it hadn't been weird until they'd come home from the honeymoon, she'd promptly found out that she was carrying a child she wasn't sure he wanted, and the best advice she'd gotten about the situation was Tell him. Soon. No, none of that was helping in the least, nor was his signature cool and serious attitude that had made fulfilling that advice deathly frightening every time she had even thought about it.

So she continued to sit. And fidget. And fake like she was actually paying any attention at all to the novel in her hands. And hope beyond all hope that he wasn't going to ask questions.

Oy.