"It doesn't count until you make your own pasta," J'anna decreed, frowning for a moment at the realization that her fabulous pasta machine had undoubtedly been destroyed in the fire.
Like her body had been. She visibly shuddered.
"Tim seems very glad to have me back. I'm not certain my father will be so pleased, but that is neither here nor there. I'm glad your unborn are fine. I had begun plans for a baby shower, but I'm afraid they're cinders now."
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