Bobby lost track of time and he got home very late. The house was dark. After hanging up his coat, he went into the kitchen and grabbed his prescription bottles from the top of the refrigerator. Filling a glass with water, he took his medicine and set the glass in the sink.

As he walked out of the kitchen, he slid off his suit jacket and unbuttoned his shirt, pulling the tails out of his pants. The light was off in the bedroom, so he undressed in the dark. He did not, however, make the assumption that his wife was sleeping. He slid into the bed and felt her body tense when he touched her. He was right; she wasn't sleeping.

He turned fully toward her and rested his hand on her side, but she pulled away. "Alex..." he whispered.

She flipped over to face him. "I can't believe you didn't tell me," she snapped, her voice full of venom.

He sighed heavily. "Alex...I told you, I needed to make this decision without anyone pushing me one way or the other. This was not a decision you could help me make."

"I am your wife," she declared angrily.

"I know that. But this...this is my life. You can't make a decision like this for me. No one can."

"You just don't get it, do you?"

"You're the one who doesn't get it," he snapped back, letting anger and frustration wash over him.

He got out of bed and crossed the room to the door. "Go ahead," she taunted. "Run away. You're good at that."

He made a noise of anger and frustration in the back of his throat, but refused to turn and fight with her. He slammed the door behind him and went downstairs.


A loud rumble of thunder woke Alex from a troubled sleep. Her heart pounded and she was shaking from the nightmare she'd had. She looked at Bobby's side of the bed, but it was still empty. In her dream, she had driven him away with her anger, had never forgiven him or given him a chance to be forgiven and he was gone forever before she would let him resolve anything with her.

She hugged herself. Was it really worth the fight or the chance of losing him before they made up? Did she want to carry a grudge against him for the rest of his life? She thought over his argument as the thunder rumbled again. It was his life and his decision to make, and, as big as it was, he was right: she had no place in making that decision. No one could help him with that. She would have been emotional. She couldn't help it—she didn't want to lose him. As crazy as he drove her, as frustrating and infuriating and unreasonable as he was, she loved him more than she ever thought it was possible to love a man.

She looked at the clock beside the bed. 3:02. Another clap of thunder shook the house, and she wondered why she didn't have children in the bed with her. Harry especially was terrified of thunder. She climbed out of bed and pulled on her robe. She still felt shaky and she swiped at a tear that suddenly appeared, rolling down her cheek.

She felt an overwhelming need to find Bobby, to make sure he was okay and invite him back to bed. She needed to apologize to him for being stubborn and unreasonable, to assure him that she understood. But for Bobby, words were not enough. Words did not carry the impact that actions did, and if she was going to convince him that she was no longer mad at him, she would have to do it with actions, not words.

At the bottom of the stairs, she turned into the living room. He wasn't there and she felt an unwelcome sense of panic begin to rise as lightning illuminated the empty room, followed by another loud clap of thunder. She went into the family room and stopped halfway across the room. He was in the recliner, and he wasn't alone. She noted the glass on the table beside the chair, and she felt bad for driving him to it. Sometimes her obstinacy backfired on her.

Maggie was snuggled against his right shoulder, her curly head almost under his chin, the fingers of her left hand tucked into his hair. A comforting gesture for both of them, she'd gotten away from it as she got older. When she was troubled, however, or when she sensed unrest in her father, she resorted to placing her hand in his hair when she slept against his chest.

Nestled in his lap on his left side, she was surprised to find Harry. The little boy, still small for his age, curled into a small, self-protective ball, his head resting on Bobby's chest. He slept in the same position every night, and Alex wondered if he would ever get to a place in his subconscious where he could comfortably sleep stretched out, openly unprotected by nothing more than the love of family and the security of home.

Bobby had a strong arm wrapped protectively around each child. Each breath he drew came with a soft snore. Humidity from the rain pulled his curls tighter, and his lower face was dark with whiskers. When had he shaven last? Yesterday, in preparation for what he had to have known would be a difficult doctor's visit. He was wearing only pajama pants. His chest and feet were bare. She felt a surge of desire for him, and she knew she could let go of her anger, if he could find it in his heart to forgive her.

She moved closer to the chair, stopped beside Harry, who made a little moan when a huge thunderclap again shook the house. Bobby responded to the soft noise from the child, tightening his arm around him. Harry settled, and Alex smiled. How had he ever thought that distancing himself from the family, from the children who adored him and needed him, was a good thing to do for anyone? Sometimes, his judgment was still tainted by his abusive past.

She reached out and played with the hair that curled around his ear. Her fingers strayed and she ran the tip of her index finger around the outside of his ear. He made a quiet noise and shifted his hips. Gently, she tugged on his earlobe, and he groaned, shifting himself again.

His eyelids fluttered and opened. He looked at her curiously, and a question formed in his eyes. She continued to play with his ear, and he became confused. She smiled at his bewilderment. "We have to talk," she whispered.

"Good talk or bad talk?" he whispered back, apprehensive of her answer.

"Good," she replied.

It had to be good. It took a nightmare to make her realize she was feeding precious minutes to her anger, and now was not the time to make waste of even seconds of his life, which was in real danger of ending far too soon. She would have the luxury of time to be angry later. For now, he knew how she felt about being left out of his decision-making process, and she had to let go of her grudge or she would lose him to it.

Her fingers strayed from his ear to his neck and he tipped his head forward. She smiled. "Let me put them back in bed," she said softly.

"Take Harry," he replied.

Smaller and lighter, Harry would be easier for her to carry up the stairs. Before she could stop herself, she shifted her eyes to the glass on the table at his elbow. He followed her line of sight to the empty glass. "That was hours ago," he answered her unasked query. "I'm sober."

She trusted him. Leaning down to pick up Harry, her hand skimmed over the front of his pants. His eyes widened and he caught his breath. She met his eyes and in the light of a prolonged lightning display, she saw heat. Moving closer, she brushed her lips over his, confirmation that she was no longer angry, and she lifted Harry from his lap.

He waited a minute, watching her in the darkness as she carried Harry out of the room. Cradling Maggie against his chest, he got up and started out of the room. His mind was flooded with memories. Alex had been generous about sharing her first child with him before they had known she was his child, too. Maggie had always been a balm for his wounded soul. Much of his life had revolved around her. He had never before known such complete and unconditional love from another person. Maggie had never cared that he was unconventional. She never cared that he'd had a difficult past or that it interfered with his ability to connect with most people. He had connected with her, and she adored him. With all his failings and shortcomings, she still loved him with a love that was as pure as human love could be. Even his decision to let Bergman list him had been driven by Maggie...by her and her siblings and by Alex. His family was the center of his life, and now, they were his reason for living. Without them, he wouldn't bother. There would be no reason. But they were there, and they needed him, and he told Bergman to go ahead, not for himself, but for them. They were his reason...for everything. Now it was out of his hands.

He gently laid Maggie in her bed and pulled the covers over her. Thunder rumbled overhead and he pressed a kiss to her forehead. He left the room, pulling the door mostly closed. Turning from the door, he was startled by Alex, standing in the hall behind him. Silently, she took his hand and led him to the bedroom.

He slid into bed for the second time that night, not certain what to expect. Alex climbed in beside him and slid close. "I had a nightmare," she admitted.

"That's why you wanted me here?"

"No. I wanted you here because this is where you belong, every night, for the rest of your life, however long that happens to be. The nightmare convinced me that I was wrong. By being angry, I was wasting time we may not have to waste. I don't..." She stopped to collect herself, and she shuddered, moving closer to him. He still didn't draw her in, but he watched her, waiting for her to finish her thought. "I don't want time to get away from us, wasted by my anger. I can't afford to be angry with you, not right now."

"Nothing has changed," he pointed out.

"My perspective has. I'll have plenty of time later to be angry."

"But I may not be around for that."

"I realize that, and Logan will just have to bear the brunt of it. That's all there is to it. Isn't that what best friends are for, to stand-in for you when you can't?"

"I suppose."

He still didn't understand what changed, and she could read his confusion. She reached out and spread her hand on his chest. She moved it in circles through the soft hair that curled there. Her tenderness only increased his confusion. "So...are you mad, or aren't you?"

"I'm not. Not any more."

"But why? Because you had a nightmare?"

"Because I don't want to wast time you may not have. I...I don't want to live the rest of my life with regret, Bobby. I love you, and I want you to know that."

"So...you're not gonna get mad at me any more?"

"I can't promise that. I just won't let it drag on."

"You're gonna try to let it go right away? Won't you implode or something?"

She laughed softly, but he was serious. He didn't want to be the cause of any problems for her, health or otherwise. He felt that he already gave her enough trouble. "I'll be fine. If I need to go off on someone, I'll call Mike."

"My stand-in."

"In some ways."

She kissed his chin as the room lit up with a lightning flash. Thunder rolled; the storm was still close. She caressed his chest and belly with her fingertips. He groaned softly. "No one will ever stand-in for you here," she whispered into his ear.

He closed his eyes and let himself respond to her touch, to the whisper of her breath and the brush of her lips over his skin.

"What did Bergman say about sex?" she asked, her voice husky as she drew her head away from him.

"Hmmm, what?"

"Sex? I know you asked him."

"Oh, uh...it-it's okay, it's good, good for me, as long as I have the energy and the desire." He turned his head to look at her as the room lit up again. Her face was flushed with desire, and she was beautiful. "I have plenty of both."

She smiled and lowered her mouth back to his ear, nipping lightly and teasing it with her tongue. His responding groan buzzed through her body, but when he reached for her, she grabbed his wrist. "Wait," she whispered, setting his hand back on the mattress. "See how long you can go without touching me. Just...enjoy for awhile."

He arched an eyebrow. "Getting into torture are we?"

"For a little while. Let's see how long you can hold out."

"And if I can't?"

"Try," she purred and nipped his ear again. "If you can hold out until I'm done, then you can do the same to me."

He groaned again. "I-I'll try," he answered, his voice rough. "But if that thunder brings Harry in here before I have a chance..."

"We'll finish in the bathtub," she promised, lightly tickling his waist.

He softly gasped, pulling his hands into fists in an attempt to control his growing desire to touch her. Her hands continued to move, followed in sweet succession by her mouth and her tongue.

He lasted a lot longer than she thought he would, although he was definitely primed and chomping at the bit. He was very tense, burning to repay her for the fire she stoked in him. More than once, he nearly lost control, but she knew just when to back off, just where to go next, just how to drive him nuts. His hands moved toward her several times, but he regained control, and she smiled.

The fire in his eyes when he looked at her promised retribution, and she took it as a challenge to try to break his will. Her promise, though, was powerful enough to overcome his desperation. She finished him off with a rare blow job that left him breathless and almost sated.

She snuggled into his side and stroked his chest as he recovered. She flexed her hips forward, rubbing herself against his leg. "Can I touch you now?" he whispered.

"Whenever you're ready," she answered, the tone of her voice cutting through the fog in his head.

"Now you can't touch me," he said as he pushed her onto her back.

"I'll try," she answered with a seductive smile. "But no promises."

"If you break the rules, we'll have to start over again."

"What a shame."

He smiled and straddled her hips, his eyes bright with wicked desire. He started with her chest.

She didn't last long before he had to start over, as promised. The third time she touched him, he groaned and complained, "You're not even trying."

She smiled at him and he tickled her. She almost shrieked, but he silenced her with a hard kiss, relishing the sensation of her squirming beneath him. Alex was only ticklish like that when she was aroused, and he enjoyed the hell out of it when he could.

When he pulled back, she lay panting and flushed with arousal. "Are you gonna play right now?" he asked.

"Maybe," she teased, happy to see he was enjoying the game as much as she was. "Are you sure you're still up for it?"

"Are you trying to outlast me?"

"Why would I do that? I need you to finish what you started."

"Then stop cheating."

"Cheating?"

She reached out and stroked him. He trembled and grasped her hands. "Cheating. They're your rules."

"Suggestions."

He pressed his lips together. "I get to set the, uh, suggestions next time." He straddled her again and tickled her lightly until she squirmed. "Now we'll try again."

Still laughing, she threw her arms out on the bed, inviting him to go for it. And he did.


The storm had moved into the distance by the time he finally finished with her, leaving both of them breathless and satisfied. When he recovered enough, he tried to get out of the bed, but she wouldn't let him up. She snuggled in his arms, keeping him from opening the window. "It's raining and it's cold," she chided.

"But I'm hot."

"Just stay still for a couple of minutes."

She blew lightly across his chest. He groaned. "All that's going to do is make me horny again."

She laughed and did it again. "Damn it, Alex..."

He rolled toward her and pinned her down. As she looked up into his smiling eyes, her mood suddenly shifted from playful to tender. He noticed the shift and curiosity sparked in his eyes. She pulled her hand from under his and stroked his face. "I love you," she whispered.

"I love you, too," he replied.

He slid onto his side and pulled her close again. She pulled the covers over herself and tucked the sheet around his waist. Fatigue hit him suddenly, like a ton of bricks, and he fell asleep as she caressed his chest.

She listened to his soft breathing and laid her hand flat on his chest. She felt his heart beat against her hand and quietly, she cried herself to sleep.