Lindsay panted heavily as she pushed the jogging stroller down a path in Central Park. She was wearing her black sweats and a hot pink spaghetti strap t-shirt, which did very little for the biting cold. She didn't care a bit, though, thinking only of the new, perfect, expensive size six jeans she was going to fit into when she was done losing her baby weight. She wished she had her ipod, or at least some way of distracting her from the stitch in her side and the burning in her thighs. But she had to keep going.

Lucky Celia, she thought as her mind fixed on her daughter, snug and warm in the protective cover of the stroller, in her thick, green jacket and heavy quilted blanket. Suffice it to say, she was insanely jealous that her tiny daughter was under doctor's orders to gain weight, whereas here Lindsay was, running so hard she could barely breathe, trying to lose the last ten pounds of her baby weight.

Her phone interrupted her stream of thoughts. Slowing her quick pace, Lindsay unhooked the phone from the stroller and hit answer. She pressed it to her ear and managed to muster a very panting, "Hey, Danny."

"Jesus, what's wrong with you?"

"I'm … running," Lindsay panted.

"Why? Is someone chasing you? You all right? Is Celia all right? Talk to me – do you need me to -"

"Exercise," Lindsay gasped, "I'm … exercising … stupid."

"OK, OK. No need to get pissy. Look, I'll swing by in about an hour, see how you're doin'."

"I'm … fine."

"Sure. But I'm comin' over anyways. I'll bring a pizza. And I got a shirt for Celia. It's great – you'll love it."

Lindsay panted a slight "uh-huh."

"See ya in an hour."

She hung up and snapped the phone back onto the stroller. Increasing her pace, she headed home.

Danny opened the door without knocking and shut it behind himself. He headed to the kitchen, where Lindsay was sitting next to Celia in her high chair, trying to get the baby to eat a spoonful of apple sauce.

"Please? Just a little bite… come on, Celia, take a bite," Lindsay begged, teasing the baby's lips with the spoon.

"Montana, check this out," Danny said, dropping the pizza box on the table and pulling out a baby onesie from his sweatshirt pocket. The outfit was white, with a blue design of a stroller on it and bubble letters that proclaimed 'That's how I roll.'

Lindsay laughed and stood up. "Well, you can put it on her if you can get her to eat something. We went to the doctor today, and she told me that Celia over here needs to gain some weight."

Danny walked over to the high chair and lifted the little girl up into his arms. She squealed and shoved her fist in her mouth. Danny cuddled her against his chest and kissed her head. "You're too thin, huh, baby?" he said, tickling her stomach. "It's OK, we'll get you fattened up."

Lindsay felt like crying. She turned away and got out two plates from the cabinet, one hand holding her stomach.

"Wassa matter, you sick?" Danny asked, concerned. He glanced at her hand.

"No, it's nothing," she said, brushing him off. She dumped the plates on the table and opened the pizza box.

"Seriously, what's wrong?" he asked. He put Celia back in her high chair and effortlessly coaxed her into eating a heaping spoonful of the applesauce. The tears in Lindsay's eyes increased, and one dripped down her cheek.

Danny stood up and put the baby spoon down on the high chair. "Linds, c'mon," he said gently, reaching out to touch her arm.

She sniffed and wiped the tears harshly from her eyes. "I'm fine," she said, but her words faltered as Danny leaned in and hugged her tightly.

"What is it?" Danny asked again. Lindsay felt the words rumble in his chest.

"It's just a bunch of things," she muttered, "They're just adding up really quickly."

"The hold-up?" Danny asked.

"Yeah," she said, grateful for the excuse.

"What else?"

She hesitated, leaning into the hug. "A bunch of things," she said finally. She wondered if, a year or so earlier, she might have told him the problem. A year ago, when she thought she knew what was going on in his head, she would have been able to be in the same space with him and relax. Now, she wasn't so sure.

Danny kissed the side of her head and pulled away. "Look, how about you take a slice of the pizza and watch a movie or something? I'll get Celia into bed and alla that. Just take it easy. Take a break."

She nodded and put a slice of pizza on her plate.

An hour later, Danny collapsed onto the faded couch next to Lindsay. She was lazily watching a Sci Fi flick – something about mutant leeches in a small southern town.

Danny handed her the popcorn he'd just made and said, "You gonna tell me what's buggin' you?"

She shook her head.

"What do I gotta do to get something out of you?" he joked.

"I'm not talking," she said stubbornly, turning up the sound on the TV.

Danny slyly slipped the remote from her grasp and turned off the TV. "Talk," he commanded.

Lindsay abruptly burst into tears.

Danny, unaware of what boundaries she'd set up for him, reached out and took her hand. He rubbed his thumb on her palm in a meek attempt to soothe her. "It'll only go away if you talk about it."

She sniffed and coughed out her story. "I hate being a mother," she sobbed, "I'm not pretty anymore and the baby doesn't like me, and I can never go out anymore without thinking about her, and I can't lose any weight and I'm so tired all the time –" she collapsed into a fit of sobbing, burying her face in the back of the couch.

Danny reached over and pulled her into a hug. "OK, OK, slow down. First off, you're gorgeous, Linds, and the baby loves you. More than anything. I didn't really get the rest, 'cause you were kinda talking too fast."

She sniffed and hugged his neck. "I'm tired, I'm fat, and I can't stop thinking about her."

"You're tired? I'll take her more. Just call me, OK? I'll come over and take care of her and you can get some sleep. And you're not fat, at all, Linds. You're gorgeous, like I said. And I know you can't stop thinking about her. Neither can I."

Lindsay lifted her puffy, red face to look at him. "Really?" she sniffed.

"Yeah. I know it's weird, 'cause it's like you're not about yourself anymore. But it's not that bad, you know?" he said, stroking her hair. "And if you're having a hard time being a mother, just let me help. We're doing this together. You know that."

"I feel old," she said sadly.

"You aren't," he laughed, "I'm older than you, if you wanna get right down to it. So when I start to worry, then you can. But I ain't worried."

She let out a watery giggle.

"Look, I know this is hard for you 'cause you're doin' most of the work. But it's like I said at the hospital, right? When she was born? I'll do anything you want – babysitting, shopping, laundry – just say the word."

She smiled and let go of him, leaning back against the couch. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hands, clearing herself of the tears. "Thanks," she said, her runny nose muffling her words.

"Don't mention it," he said, already missing her warm body against his chest. He sighed and checked his watch. "OK, look, I'm on call and I gotta get some paperwork done over at the lab. So I gotta go. But if you want me to take her tonight, give you a break. If you want."

She shook her head. "She's asleep. She sleeps through most of the night now. It's easy from here on out."

"That's good," he said absentmindedly. Finally, he glanced at his watch. "I gotta go. I'll call you, OK?"

"Thanks, Danny," she said softly.

"No problem, gorgeous," he said, and kissed her head. "See you tomorrow. Get some sleep, yeah?"

She nodded, smiling at him.

He shut the door behind himself, and she heard him call through the heavy wooden door for her to lock it behind him.

She got up grudgingly and did as he asked. Thinking little of it, she pressed her ear against the door, listening for his footsteps as he shuffled away. She heard none.

After a moment, she looked through the peephole to see if he'd left already. From what she could tell, he was just standing outside the door, his key to her apartment in his hand, ready to open the door. He was just standing there, debating whether or not to come back in.

Just as she was about to open the door, he jolted, as though seized by some thought or other, and left, his footsteps echoing down the hallway.

Lindsay suddenly felt very tired, and leaned against the door heavily. She realized, for a brief moment, that she would have given anything to have Danny open the door.

Shaking her head of any further thoughts, she went into the kitchen and made herself some tea.

He'd come so far, she mused, since that day on the couch in her living room, where he'd sat, so drunk she could barely make out what he was saying, and stared sadly at the round bump that was Lindsay's belly.

"I can't do it," he'd said over and over again, "It's not the right time; I got too much on my plate."

Lindsay had said nothing. She'd merely sat, awkwardly sober and holding her stomach with splayed hands as though she were trying to hide it. Sometimes she dreamt, now, about what she'd wanted to say. A long, winded tirade about how she hadn't asked for this either, how she was scared out of her mind too, and she'd be the one who was drunk if she could. She had wanted to scream at him that he wasn't the only one. And then she'd wanted to beg, and plead, and tell him that, if they got through it together, then maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

But she hadn't told him a damn thing. She'd been docile and quiet, hiding her stomach and letting him talk.

"I love you," he'd said, "And I'm sorry we broke up, but I don't know if I can do this with you right now." He'd finished with that, and had struggled to his feet.

"It's not for me," she'd said quietly, watching him go.

He'd paused at the door, looking at her. But the alcohol had slowed his brain, fudged his rational thought, so he'd pushed open the door and left.

After Lindsay went in to check on Celia, she laid down on her bed and dropped immediately into sleep, not even bothering to take off her clothes.

The next morning, Lindsay awoke the sound of a buzzer going off. She reached out to her alarm clock and smacked it, hoping that it would turn off. Waking up gradually as time progressed, she realized that the sound was not her alarm clock. She sat up groggily and looked around, finally spying her phone vibrating angrily on the floor. She bent down and picked it up, hitting the answer button.

"Hello?" she asked groggily.

"Hey, is this … Lindsay?"

"Who are you?" Lindsay moaned, sitting up.

"This is Harold Whitman. Harry? We met at a bar a few nights ago."

"We did?"

The man chuckled. "Look, we were both pretty wasted… hey I'm just calling to say I'm sorry for how I acted that night. I'm not usually like that."

"Me, neither," Lindsay admitted, leaning back against her headboard.

"I just wanted to make it up to you," he said amiably, "How about some dinner tonight? Say, six thirty? Midtown?"

"I …"

"I know this great place. Do you want to meet up there? It's called Cucina Bene. I'll see you there?"

"Um … you know what? That sounds great," Lindsay said, hoping he was buying. At this point, with all the money she was spending on diapers and baby clothes, free dinner sounded like a godsend.

She hung up the phone with a huge smile on her face, one that did not fade as she went in to check on Celia.

Lindsay walked into work with a wide, bright smile on her face that contrasted heavily with the suffocating, wild panic at the back of her head. While Lindsay was coming back for her first day of work since maternity leave, Celia was spending her first day in day care.

Lindsay had called Danny and asked him to run a background check on every employee of the day care a few days earlier, and though they'd all been clean, Lindsay was nervous. She was having terrifying visions of coming to pick Celia up and finding her nowhere, the day care center empty and echoing.

Celia, however, had made little fuss. As per her usual fashion, Celia had been napping. Danny's mother had informed Lindsay that Celia was the sleepiest and the quietest baby she'd ever witnessed. According to Gina Messer, Danny and Louie had 'never shut up.' The day care had Lindsay's cell phone, her work phone, Danny's home, work, and cell, Danny's mother's cell phone, his cousin Ritchie's cell phone, and Lindsay's parent's phone in Montana. Just in case.

Lindsay headed immediately to the break room to find something to calm her nerves. Tea, maybe.

Danny and Don walked into the break room moments later, discussing the possible suspects on their case. Danny looked up from the file to see Lindsay, leaning against the counter, distractedly stirring a cup of steaming tea.

"What?" Danny chuckled.

Lindsay looked up in surprise and shook her head. "Nothing," she said.

"Liar," Danny snorted.

"I gotta get back to the precinct," Don said, heading out the door, "See you two later."

Lindsay raised a hand in a wave and took a sip of her tea.

"It's the daycare, isn't it?" Danny asked knowingly.

"They don't know her!" Lindsay exclaimed, "What if she's hungry and they forget to feed her? What if they neglect her? What if they're not watching her and someone comes in and –"

"Don't think about that," Danny said, slapping his case file onto the counter. "None of that's gonna happen. I checked out everyone at that day care. She's fine. Look, if it makes you feel better, I get off work in an hour and I can take her out."

Lindsay smiled but stopped, her face blanching. "Oh, God."

"What? What's wrong?"

"I forgot to get a babysitter for tonight– do you think you could –"

"Sure," he said quickly, smiling at her.

"Do you mind watching her at my place? I don't know if she's entirely comfortable spending an entire day away. I want her to have some sort of routine…"

"Sure, no problem," he said. Suddenly, he frowned. "What do you need a babysitter for? I thought you got off at like three in the afternoon."

Lindsay smiled nervously.

"I'm just sayin'. I don't like the guy at all," Danny said firmly. "He was gonna drive you to his place while he was drunk off his ass, Linds."

"You know this isn't about that," she snapped, handing him Celia's baby bag. "You know this is because you're jealous, and you know what Danny? You had two girlfriends while I was pregnant with Celia, so if you give me any crap about 'dating too soon,' then I swear I will –"

"I don't want you getting hurt," Danny said defensively, taking Celia into his arms and jiggling her to calm her soft whimpers. "I want you to be safe. That's all."

"Well, I'll take a cab. I'll be 'safe,'" she said, using dramatic quotation marks with her fingers. "You're so … infuriating sometimes," she spat, and spun around back to the cab she and Celia had taken to his place.

"You're not allowed to yell at me!" he shouted back, "I'm babysitting!"

"Oh shut up, you practically begged for this!" she grinned, her anger quickly fading. She hated and loved how he could do that – draw her out of a funk with a simple joke.

Danny lumbered sleepily out of Celia's room. He'd fallen asleep in the rocking chair again holding his daughter. He wiped sleep out of his eyes and wandered into the living room.

He jumped back in surprise as he saw Lindsay, sitting on the couch cross-legged with a tub of ice cream sitting on her lap. She was wearing a long-sleeved blue dress that hit the tops of her knees as she sat on the couch. She was glaring at the ice cream before her as she furiously ate it.

"How was your date?" Danny asked, sitting down next to her.

"Stupid," she responded.

"Yeah, how so?"

"I don't want to talk about it," she snapped, and shoved a heaping spoonful of ice cream into her mouth.

"Do I have to beat someone up?" Danny asked lightly, stealing her spoon and scooping himself a bite of ice cream.

"No," Lindsay sighed. She knew that it was her fault the date hadn't gone well. Walking into the restaurant, they'd spotted a woman pushing a stroller. Lindsay had bent down to say hello to the chubby little boy. She'd picked up his toy for him and touched his cheek, smiling at the boy's admiring mother.

It was then that Harold had shivered and remarked that he hated children. He just couldn't bear the thought of having one of his own. Not to mention, he had remarked, they hated him with a fiery passion.

From the on, the date had been horrible. Lindsay had been distant, constantly checking her phone, responding to his questions with short, clipped answers, and eating quickly to get the hell out of there.

"He hates kids, Danny," she said sadly, and stole the spoon back. She scooped up a bite and shoved it in her mouth.

Danny shrugged. "Then he's not worth it."

"Easy for you to say," Lindsay mumbled.

"C'mon, what's that supposed to mean?" Danny asked, leaning back against the couch.

"It's different for you."

"Yeah, how?"

"You're not … Never mind. I'm going to bed." She got up and walked to the kitchen, shoving the ice cream container in the fridge.

Danny got up and trudged after her. "Whatcha mean? Seriously, how's it different for me?"

"You know what I mean, Danny," she sighed and brushed past him to her bedroom before he could say anymore.

She shut the door, leaving him standing in her kitchen, wondering what the hell she meant.

Lindsay sat on her bed and concentrated on not crying. She couldn't understand how he didn't see it – how she was out of practice with dating, how she still had weight to lose, how she didn't have his god-like good looks.

She fell back onto her back, thinking briefly of the two women Danny had dated during the pregnancy. One was a secretary at a big law firm – Candace, her name had been. She'd been tall, busty, and red-haired, with empty green eyes. The other had been a blonde woman with perfect teeth and a laugh that sounded like tinkling bells. She had no idea where he'd met them, but she'd see him making out with one of them in front of the crime lab every so often. Candace had lasted for most of the second trimester, and Rachel, the blonde, had been around for the last part of the third trimester.

She knew why he'd dated them, though. She'd had the same feeling he had: a deep, unsettling fear that the dating life you knew was rapidly disintegrating. And Danny, watching Lindsay's stomach get rounder and rounder each day, had decided to take advantage of his dwindling freedom.

Since Celia's birth, they'd been nowhere to be found, though. Danny had, to her knowledge, been completely single for the past four months. By choice, clearly – she'd seen women checking him out wherever they went – at Celia's doctor's office, on the street, in coffee shops all over the city. He seemed to have given it all up for the life he had with Celia.

Lindsay sighed and rolled onto her side, breathing in a gulp of air. She knew the real reason her date had gone so badly. He wasn't Danny.