Page 68 of Love is a Game

Susan wipes her hands on a dish towel, watching them for a moment. Then she shakes her head with a small smile. “So like you and Tuck at that age,” she muses.

I smile back. “Except Finn is the total spitting image of Brady, don’t you think?”

“Yes…” Her eyes crinkle with fondness. “But it was always you and Tuck with your heads together, blonde boy and dark-haired girl, always hatching plans.”

I pause, swept away with her warm sentiment. It’s a small thing, but it feels like she’s including me in something precious and nostalgic.

Then Nora’s voice cuts through the moment.

“Harvey! What are you digging around for now?” she snaps. “Where’s the wine?”

He’s rummaging with clear intent, shifting jars of homemade preserves and a wedge of cheese before finally retrieving a small, sealed vial.

Nora groans. “You can’t be serious.Now? We’re about to have dessert.”

Harvey shuts the fridge with his elbow, holding up the vial. “It’s the perfect time,” he says, matter-of-factly. “Hormone levels are right on track, and I don’t want to waste a good dose.”

I pause mid-rinse, my curiosity piqued. “A good dose of what?”

Harvey pops open a drawer and grabs a catheter, setting it beside the vial on the counter. “Semen. For the sow,” he answers casually, like he’s talking about a sourdough starter.

I blink. “I’m sorry?”

Oblivious to my reaction, Harvey launches into an explanation, detailing the challenges of breeding heritage pigs for ethical meat production.

“See, timing’s key. The sow’s at peak fertility for a narrow window, so you have to catch it just right. Then you insert this here—” He gestures to the catheter. “And let the magic happen.”

Nora shakes her head as Tuck appears, having gathered the last of the condiments from the table. She hands him a bottle of red. “Open that, please, honey. Harvey’s busy servicing the pig.”

Tuck stops mid-reach, his head jerking in amused disbelief. “Servicing the—?”

I barely suppress a laugh. “Apparently, Harvey’s heritage pig is ovulating. He’s got a whole clinical process for making sure she gets pregnant.”

Tuck’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh yeah? Taking notes, Pen?”

I stare at him, heat rushing to my face. “You’re hilarious.”

He smirks. “What? The romance of artificial insemination not quite working for you?”

Harvey, still focused on his task, doesn’t miss a beat. “Oh, sure, there’s foreplay,” he says matter-of-factly.

Tuck chokes on a laugh. “Excuse me?”

“I’m sorry.” Susan raises her hands in surrender, “I’m out. I think I’ll join Vivian and Violet back at the table for some lessstimulatingconversation.” She beats a swift retreat from the kitchen.

Harvey’s completely unfazed. “Yeah,Gretel—that’s the sow. She gets to see the boar first. Visual stimulation helps get the hormones flowing. And we apply a non-spermicidal lubricant. After all, a pig’s penis isn’t exactly the most comfortable fit.” He holds up the spiral-tipped catheter, wiggling it slightly.

I gasp. It looks alarmingly similar to the end of the corkscrew Tuck’s holding.

“A lot of inseminators prefer the spiral tips since they lock in, mimicking the boar,” Harvey continues. “Helps reduce backflow, increases efficiency.”

My vision prickles with stars as I reach for the benchtop.

“It’s all about timing and technique. A well-placed dose and…” Harvey snaps his fingers. “Piglets in three months. That’s the beauty of it.Multiplebirths.”

My knees sag.

Nora sighs, plucking the bottle of wine from Tuck’s grip. “For the love of God, let’s just have dessert before we’re all traumatized.”

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