The 207th Bone

My ex-boyfriend, Jason Bell, still hasn't let go of me, even though I've been married to Cedric Mosley for two years now. He sends blood-red dancing heels to me and threatens to destroy my current "peaceful life". Terrified and trembling, I'm about to call the cops when a hand in latex gloves rests on my shoulder. "Don't be afraid." My forensic doctor husband, having just returned from an autopsy, carries a faint scent of formaldehyde with him. He takes off his glasses. With the same hands he uses to handle scalpels, he slowly helps me open the threatening letter inside the package. "The handwriting is sloppy, with uneven pressure applied. It's typical of an anxious personality type." Then, as if he's reviewing an autopsy report, he comments mildly, "This type of person usually has brittle bones that snap easily." * There are 206 bones in an adult body. When Cedric placed a “rib” ring on my finger, he whispered, “You are the bone I lost long ago—the one that makes me whole.” That is the origin of this title.