"In that case," she says, fixing him with a look that doesn't waver, "if it turns out the kid's gone for the night and you're interested in having sex, we can."

A rule, in love and war: Never call Maggie Rhee's bluff.

(It's hard not to think of that pharmacy, of Glenn and his box of condoms. Easier to think of it and set the memory aside for the moment. Everything that was true then, somehow, is true now, too: she's lonely, and the field of options is a narrow one. Who else understands everything that's brought them to this point? No one she's interested in screwing.)