Life (well, people, unhappy, awful people who will get theirs) threw my family a curve-ball the other day. I suppose I deserve it, what with all the hell I put my characters through.

The husband and I get along really well, always have, more friends or siblings, sometimes, than lovers. I've been out with him and had guys hit on me right in front of him because they didn't realize we were together. We've been mistaken for siblings before. We're not touchy-feely in public. That's just our MO. But when we get put under stress we tend to pick at the people we love best, you know? I already see us doing it a little bit, two days in.

And I got to thinking, my characters are doing that, too. Castile loses his whole world, and the first thing he does is wrongly (but justifiably) attack/accuse Trinidad. Trinidad's walls of denial are falling down around him, Castile more often than not pulling out the cornerstones. Trinidad lashes back. And so it goes. While they like each other (yes, like-like) and are heartily attracted, they're fighting, too. It runs from snide comments that in other conditions would draw a grin to The Big Stuff. They've lied to each other, and worse, they've told the truth. But it's still not enough. Part of the story is a love story, maybe a bigger part than I thought.

On a lot of levels they see eye-to-eye, though. This is not your typical hate the love interest romance. I'm going to have to go through and add more real, fresh levels of frustration to their relationship. At the end of the day, the reader should have no idea if they'll end up together or not, but I have to add enough foundation to make readers long for them to be together.

And the real us? At the end of the day, we'll still be together. That one thing is certain in my life.Right now it might be the only thing.

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