My Husband, My Best Friend, and Their Dirty Little Secret

When my husband came to pick me up from the hospital, my best friend was already in the passenger seat. Her smile was still bright and generous, but she made no move to get out.

"It's been so long since I’ve seen you. You’ve been sitting in that passenger seat for ages—can’t you let me have it now that I’m back in the country, Mrs. Frans?"

Frans Charles, hands on the wheel, said nothing. He just changed the subject.

"How were the test results?"

I held the report in my hand—the one confirming my pregnancy—opened the back door and replied slowly, “Just indigestion.”