"We could," Meredith says. "But you're off enjoying them while I sit here with a book. And not even a good one." She can't even blame herself for that either; the bookshelf has its good days and its bad, and it's always a gamble. That isn't the point either, though. She's never altogether certain what's going to come out until she says it, but she knows she has a point, although it makes her wonder if the problem, then, is her, if she's not worried so much as jealous.

She sighs. "Yes. Yes, of course we can."