" Greg suggested. Grumpily, Grace grumbled. "Reconsider what?" "The breast feeding business!" "And, why - May I ask! - would I want to do that?" "Well....." Greg returned with a yawn, "If you went with bottles, I could pitch in and lend a hand. You know, as in I could alleviate you of having to attend to some or, perhaps all of these two o'clock feedings for you. You know, so you could get a good night's sleep. You know, like every once in awhile." "I mean, as it is now - You know, with you. Why couldn't his own wife offer him comfort like this? When was the last time they simply held each other, anyway? He found himself comparing Charlene to her daughter, noting how different she felt in his arms. Soft, a little pudgy, the opposite of her stick-thin daughter. Warm. Fragrant. He could get lost in an embrace like this.But that was a bad idea. Not only was Charlene twenty-five years older than him, she was his mother-in-law. He had no prejudice about her body, about her being. More

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