When Dr. Kattan's leg pressed against hers, Tami realized she'd made a mistake to allow his flirtations. She opened her purse and threw two twenties and a ten on the bar. That should cover her drinks, her share of the appetizers, and a tip, she thought, though she didn't really know, as her math was fuzzy at the moment. She slid herself down from the stool and stumbled a little. The stool was higher than she'd remembered it being when she first sat down.

Dr. Kattan quickly dismounted his own stool and slid an arm around her waist to steady her. "You've had too much to drink," he said.

She stepped away from his touch. "I just lost my footing," she insisted.

He put some cash on the bar. "Let me drive you home, Tami."

"I'm fine."

"You're not fine," he insisted. "I'll drive you."

"I'll call a cab," she assured him and began making her way outside, but he followed her. On the sidewalk before the noisy street, he put a hand on the small of her back, an intimate gesture that, when Eric did it, always made her feel desired and protected.

"Let me drive you," he insisted. "I'm perfectly sober. Save yourself the fare. My car is a mere two blocks away. I'll bring it right around. Just wait here for me." And then he leaned down and kissed a spot of exposed flesh, just where her shoulder curved toward her neck. No man other than Eric had ever had his lips on that particular spot. A teenage boy or two, when she was a teenager herself, but no man. It was a strange sensation, unwanted yet exciting, like a sudden static shock.

Tami stood stunned as Dr. Kattan rounded the corner. Had she invited that? Her mind ping ponged over the evening, plunged into the distant past, and then surfaced again in the present moment. She had to get out of here before he came back. If she waited for a cab, he would try to talk her into his car. So Tami made her way to her own SUV, which was parked just a little ways down the street.

A jumble of emotions, and not thinking straight, Tami had driven three blocks, narrowly avoided an accident, and just entered the highway when she decided to pull over on the shoulder and kill her engine. Her hands shaking a little, she pulled out her cell phone, and that was when she saw Eric's texts:

7:30 PM: Hope you're having a good time.

8:35 PM: Just got Gracie to bed.

9:33 PM: Text me when you start heading home.

10:16 PM: Did you leave yet?

10:29 PM: Where are you? Are you still at the bar?

10:45 PM: Please answer.

Tami clicked on Eric's cell number in her contact list. She didn't even hear the phone ring before he answered: "Tami, it's after 11. Why didn't you answer my texts?"

"I had my phone on mute."

"Where are you?"

"On the shoulder of the highway." Her voice sounded small in her own ears, frightened. "Near the entrance ramp I take from work. I think I'm drunk. I need to get home."

"Did you drive there drunk?"

"Maybe." Tami started to cry.

"Stay there," he ordered, his voice as commanding as it was on the football field. "Don't drive anywhere. I'll get you out of there. Lock your doors."

Her vehicle shuddered as cars, ignoring the red SUV at the side of the road, intermittently whizzed by. Tami tried to calm herself and steady her thoughts, but she had begun to worry about how angry Eric was going to be over her foolishness.

Their house was twenty minutes from Braemore, and Eric couldn't just leave Gracie alone at night, so Tami was surprised when, within less than ten minutes, an SUV crunched onto the shoulder and headlights flooded her rearview mirror.

She squinted. The SUV was white. Not Eric's.

The vehicle's engine did not cut off, and the headlights remained on. A tall, muscular African-American man got out of the passenger's side.

Tami had already locked the doors, but she pressed the lock button again.

As the man approached, she watched him in the rearview mirror and was relieved to make out his face. It was Coach Clarence Washington, Eric's offensive coordinator for the Pioneers. He lived in the apartments just a few blocks from Braemore, closer to Pemberton than Eric. Tami and Eric had chosen to commute to work from the suburbs so Gracie would be able to attend better schools.

She unlocked the door. He opened it. "Scoot over," he commanded. "I've been ordered to drive you home." He waved in the direction of the white SUV, and it drove off.

Tami obeyed and slid into the passenger's seat. He looked at her tear-streaked face. "It's okay, Tami, at least you had the sense to stop driving before you killed anyone." He waited for a wide opening in the light traffic and then pulled off the shoulder onto the highway. "You didn't kill anyone, did you?"

"No," she said. "Thank you. I'm sorry you had to come do this."

"Ain't nothing but a thing. Everyone makes mistakes. God knows I've made my share. Your husband gave me a job, and a chance to prove myself, when no one else would take a chance on me. Least I can do is help out his wife."

"He's a good man," Tami agreed.

"Best man I've ever worked for."

When Coach Washington pulled her SUV into the driveway, Eric was standing on the porch, his arms crossed over his chest.

"You a'ight?" he asked as she made her way up the stairs.

"I'm fine," she mumbled, mortified by what she'd done, her eyes fixed on the wooden planks.

"I need to drive Coach Washington home," Eric told her. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

Tami made her way to their bedroom. She crawled on top of the fully made bed and cried some more before falling asleep.

She woke up at 6 AM. Her shoes were off, and a blanket had been draped over her. She ventured out into the living room. Eric was in his recliner, snoring lightly, the remote on his chest, two empty beer bottles on the coffee table. She wondered what questions Coach Washington had asked last night on the drive home and how many of them Eric had answered.

"Hon!"

He snorted, startled, and then looked at her as he snapped the recliner shut. He rubbed his eyes. "You want to tell me what happened last night?" he asked. "You've never driven drunk in your life."

She didn't want to tell him, because she was embarrassed by her behavior, but she sat down on the couch and told him everything.

"That's so odd," he said. "To kiss you like that. Like a...lover."

"Eric - "

"- Did you encourage him? Or was this some kind of Glen thing?"

"He was flirting with me, and I didn't discourage him. Not at first."

Eric, looking a bit sick to his stomach, asked, "Did you flirt back?"

"Maybe a little, at first," she admitted.

"Are you attracted to him?"

She wanted to defend herself by bringing up the affair, to remind him that she was the one who had never cheated, but she knew that wouldn't be fair, that he had a right to be concerned at the moment, and that he was probably already thinking of the affair himself and fearing she might, in her renewed emotion over an old wrong, turn to some other man.

"Eric, I should have nipped it in the bud. I shouldn't have played along even for a little bit, but I thought it was harmless. I swear I had no intention of doing anything with that man."

"Dr. Kattan. I met him at that cocktail party in May, didn't I? The handsome guy with the goatee? The one who kept using all the big words to show off? The one your secretary kept saying had sultry eyes? That guy?"

"Yes. He's on the admissions committee with me. Eric, please don't go to Braemore and start a fight."

"I'm not going to start a fight. When have I ever started a fight?"

"I'll make sure to put him off firmly if he ever tries again. And the drunk driving, it won't ever happen again," she promised. "I'm done with work happy hours for awhile anyway. It seems someone is always trying to kiss me."

Eric stood from the recliner. "Well, you know what your problem is? You're too damn beautiful for your own good."

"I don't know why I thought I could drive. I just wanted to get out of there. I didn't want to have to keep putting him off." She shouldn't have put herself in that position in the first place, she knew. She shouldn't have welcomed his flirtations, kept drinking, and then let herself be alone with him. She certainly should not have gotten in that vehicle and driven it as far as she had. She looked remorsefully at her husband, half expecting him to rebuke her.

"Well, you're safe now," Eric said. "No one got hurt. That's what matters."

She was surprised by the gentleness in his voice. "Thank you for not being angry. And thank you for looking out for me, for getting me home."

"I know things have been hard for you lately. I can't tell you how sorry I am about that."

"They've been hard for you, too," she said quietly.

He took a step closer and reached out his hand, as though to touch her cheek, but he was distracted by a creek in the hall, and Gracie yelling, "Mommy!"

He stepped back as their daughter tore into the living room, arms outstretched, wearing a Pemberton Pioneers youth t-shirt as a nightgown. "You're home!" She threw herself into her mother's arms.

Tami hugged her daughter. "Yes, I'm home," she said. "And I'm going to go in late to work today, so that you and I can have a little time together this morning."

"Can we make pancakes? With chocolate chip faces?"

"Absolutely. And then we'll do some reading together, and then maybe go to the park for an hour."

"Will you watch me do my trick on the monkey bars?"

Tami smiled. "Of course I will, sweetie."

She glanced up at Eric, who was smiling at them. He put a hand on Gracie's head, but his eyes locked with Tami's, and they shared a moment of happiness in the child their love had brought into this world.