  This morning, there&quot;s no alarm to wake me to start working. There&quot;s no screaming from downstairs, no sound of Sophie shrieking, no daycare. But I&quot;m awake and warm and itchy. I&quot;ve been at Dad and Haley&quot;s for four days. The first couple of nights, I slept through without waking. Since Timothy left for LA, though, I&quot;ve been restless and turned on. I still haven&quot;t found the breakthrough I need with my final song, and I know Ian&quot;s breathing down my neck. Soon Miranda will be, too. So, this morning, I give myself this one thing. I slide a hand down the front of my pajamas, where I&quot;m already wet. It&quot;s a bad idea to fantasize about a man you can&quot;t have. I didn&quot;t let myself do it when we were apart, save for a couple of times when I gave myself a pass on account of being too tipsy to regulate my fantasizing or having a really brutal da

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  <div id="quillEditor" class="episode-content ql-editor">&quot;You&quot;re not going back to New York for your ex,&quot; Timothy states from behind me as I throw my makeup and toiletries into the tiny suitcase on my bed. &quot;It&quot;s work,&quot; I insist. &quot;I&quot;ve been here a week, and even though I told my collaborators what&quot;s going on, they need assurances. Especially Ian, because he&quot;s central to the funding of this entire venture.&quot; The past two days, we&quot;ve been hanging out around the house and the studio. I think he&quot;s worried about me since Sophia fell into the pool, waiting for me to fall apart. I won&quot;t, but I like having an excuse to spend time with him. Once I&quot;ve got my essentials into my bag, I zip the thing closed and drop onto the bed. Timothy crosses to the edge of the bed, leaning over

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  <div id="quillEditor" class="episode-content ql-editor">&quot;Do you have questions about recovery time? The procedure? Anesthetic?&quot; The surgeon spreads his hands on his desk. He&quot;s for sure taking for granted the range of motion in those fingers, those palms. The sixty-something man might be a doctor, but he&quot;s pure California. In living here the past year and a half, I&quot;ve learned Angelenos can take for granted almost anything. I shake my head. &quot;I&quot;ve done it before, at some of the best clinics in the country.&quot; &quot;Well, I like to think we have the best team here at UCLA. You&quot;re on the schedule for three weeks from now. I sincerely hope we can get you the results you&quot;re looking for in terms of both mobility and pain management.&quot; &quot;Me too.&quot; I leave the clinic and head outside into t

This morning, there&quot;s no alarm to wake me to start working. There&quot;s no screaming from downstairs, no sound of Sophie shrieking, no daycare. But I&quot;m awake and warm and itchy. I&quot;ve been at Dad and Haley&quot;s for four days. The first couple of nights, I slept through without waking. Since Timothy left for LA, though, I&quot;ve been restless and turned on. I still haven&quot;t found the breakthrough I need with my final song, and I know Ian&quot;s breathing down my neck. Soon Miranda will be, too. So, this morning, I give myself this one thing. I slide a hand down the front of my pajamas, where I&quot;m already wet. It&quot;s a bad idea to fantasize about a man you can&quot;t have. I didn&quot;t let myself do it when we were apart, save for a couple of times when I gave myself a pass on account of being too tipsy to regulate my fantasizing or having a really brutal day of rehearsing or, once, when he did a spread for this magazine where I swear he was looking right at

CHAPTER 51