<span style="font-weight: bold">Ambrosia</span><br/><br/>“I thought he was<span style="font-style: italic">your</span>meal,” I smiled a little, and rubbed against her tum so she’d<span style="font-style: italic">feel</span>what she couldn’t<span style="font-style: italic">see</span>. “If you don’t want him, I’d be<span style="font-style: italic">very</span>happy to stay down here and<span style="font-style: italic">squirm</span>for awhile, if you’d like that,” I offered. “Not that you can’t have me back anytime you want.”