I'll ask him. I'll just ask. I've done it before, nothing to it. Hey Lee, fancy dinner sometime this week? Your place? I'll bring the wine.

He'll understand. He won't ask questions, he never does. He'll just flash that smile of his, maybe wiggle his eyebrows. We'll set a date, I'll bring the wine, there'll be a little shoptalk, and then he'll be kissing me and I'll be safe from this darkness. For a little while.

"Dinner at my place? Uh, you know Francine, I'm awfully busy this week, probably next week too. Tons of paperwork, and then there's the Rogerson case, I'll be spending half my day in a car on stakeout duty..."

Why does he seem so nervous? I can't imagine why good old Francine should make him nervous all of a sudden.

"It's ok, Lee, relax. It was just an idea. Maybe some other time, all right?"

There's always the bottle of 12 year old whisky I've been hiding in the back of the closet. I'm afraid of it, I don't know what it can do to me if I start down that road, but I'm more afraid of the darkness.

He comes running behind me.

"Hey, listen. I didn't mean to be rude or anything. I didn't - I wasn't giving you the rundown, ok?"

"Well, yes, Lee, that's exactly what you were doing. But that's all right. You just don't feel like it, no big deal. I'll take a rain check."

"No, no rain check. That's what I mean."

"Oh. I see. So, what, are you breaking up with me?" I lower my voice, although the corridor in front of his office is deserted. No one ever comes up here. Except for Amanda, of course.

"Breaking up? Come on, Francine, we were never together, you know that."

"Of course I know that. But we had - an arrangement. As long as neither one of us wasn't involved with someone else, we'd get together if we felt like it. I thought it suited us both. Didn't it suit you?"

"Yes. Yes it did."

He's so tense I can practically feel him vibrating. His hands are twitching ever so slightly, he's dying to loosen his tie, scratch his ear, anything. But damn me if I'm going to be helpful, tell him to relax, smile sweetly. If he's going to do this, he'll have to do it the hard way.

"I just can't do it any more. I'm sorry."

"So either you are involved with someone else, or you have suddenly lost all interest in sex with me. Which is it?"

"Do we have to talk about this here? Francine, I - "

"Actually yes, we do have to talk about this here. You started it. You could have asked me out for dinner, or bought me flowers, or at least a cup of coffee. You're the one who chose to do this in a corridor at the office."

Anger is good, it makes me feel light, and in charge. It makes me feel good to see him squirm, his handsome face distorted almost to the point of ugliness. Maybe I'm not going to need that bottle of whiskey tonight after all. Maybe I can ride this wave of anger and contempt until I find - a substitute?

"You're right. I wasn't thinking, I don't even know what I want to say to you, except I can't do that anymore. And it's not about you, I can't do it with anyone. Flirts and one night stands and casual sex, I'm done with that."

"Wow. You're serious."

"I am."

"So you are seeing someone."

"No, I'm not."

"Then why? What happened?"

"Why does anything have to have happened? I'm thirty five years old, Amanda, and I'm not getting any younger. I have to think about the future, about what I want my life to be in ten, fifteen, twenty years… I don't want to be one of those guys that hang around bars and try to force drinks on women who are trying desperately to escape."

"You called me Amanda."

"Sorry. Francine."

"So that's what it's all about. You're in love."

"No, I told you, I'm not seeing anyone…"

"That doesn't mean you can't be in love. Have you told her yet?"

"Who?"

"Oh, Lee…"

He closes his eyes, his face relaxes and for that one second he looks more beautiful than ever. For that one second, I would kill anyone to have him with me always, I would kill for him to have that look when he thinks about me. But it's not me he's thinking about.

"You're right, you're right. I'm doing this all wrong, and I'm so sorry. You're my friend, Francine, my oldest friend, and I want - I want to do right by you. I know it sounds old-fashioned, but it's true. It's just that - I'm confused. I hate being confused."

"Talk to her. I know she cares for you."

"Has she - has she told you something?"

"No. But it's pretty obvious isn't it?"

"Is it? I don't know, sometimes I think yes, there's something there, between us, she must feel it too, she must know it - but then I think , me? How could she ever feel anything for me? I'm not what she needs, I'm - I'm nothing…"

To stand here and listen to him say "I'm nothing" - if someone had told me this two years ago, I would have laughed so loud. And if someone had told me he would say it because of how he felt for a simple housewife from the suburbs with two kids and a slightly cuckoo mother… I probably would have shot them, because such a supremely stupid person obviously has no right to live.

But that was then, and this is now. Now he's suffering, and to my astonishment I am finding that I don't like to see Lee suffer. I hadn't thought I cared about him this much. I thought I was only using him…

"You know that's not true. You're not thinking straight, and you'll drive yourself crazy if you go on like this. You'll drive her crazy too. And me, and everyone else. So do us all a favour and just tell her."

"Tell her what, Francine."

He actually wants me to say it for him. He doesn't want to be the first to say it, he wants to hear it first from someone else, how it sounds, how it makes him feel. I never thought Lee Stetson to be a coward, but then maybe everyone is a coward when it comes to love. How would I know?

"That you love her. That you can't think of anything else, or anyone else. That you're even refusing the company of very old and very good friends because just thinking about being with someone else feels like being unfaithful to her."

"Francine…"

"Well, that's the way it is, isn't it?"

"Yes. Yes it is. But I'm - I'm scared Francine. I've never felt like this before, and I don't want to hurt her. What if - what if it's not real? What if I'm wrong?"

"If it weren't real, you wouldn't be asking yourself that question."

He smiles. He actually smiles. He believes what I tell him. In his state, I suppose he'd believe anyone. If he'd had this conversation with Billy, he'd believed anything he said…

"Well, tell me how it went, ok? See you later, Lee."

Will it be the whiskey after all? Will it be some bar? I don't know how I feel, what I feel. You're not the only one, Lee…

"Wait! Francine!"

He comes running after me, again. I wish he would just leave. Find his Amanda and waltz off with her into their perfect life full of birthday cakes and beach walks. I wish I never had to see any of them again.

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

He takes my hand and then he gives me a kiss, right there, in the middle of the office. I want to slap his face and then run away, but he won't let me go. He just looks at me, and then he says it again, as a whisper, only for me to hear, as if it was something special, a secret, a gift.

"Thank you."

And it is.

I watch him leave. No one has even seen us, not the kiss, not the look, not anything. There won't be any whiskey tonight. There won't be any bar, either. I don't need them anymore. Because now I know I will find what he has. That's the gift he has given me, that's what his eyes have told me: that he knows that I'll find it. That it wasn't him, and never was. All I have to do is hope.

Hope is all we have. For now, it's enough.