Thank you all for the reviews; I know it seems pathetic but really sometimes we artists, who are tender flowers with fragile egos, need to know that someone's still reading! And see – a much quicker update than last time.

Mandarin – thank you for your considered opinion; happy to have made you laugh.

Part 15

"Hey. Wake up."

I did it again, fell asleep in the bath.

"You were dreaming. Seemed upset."

"It's a weird dream."

"Tell me?" He's down on his haunches, eyes level with mine.

"Later. Water's getting cold." He helps me up and out of the tub, tonight, as every night, getting wet for his pains. "Above and beyond" I crack. A shrug.

"It's my job."

"Romantic."

"I'm happy in my work." The towel he wraps around me is warm from the radiator.

"Is that what it is? Work?"

"Isn't it?"

"I don't know, I never thought about it like that." Well, you know, that isn't true, but I'm curious. There's something to be said here and the least I can do is prompt him. Do you think maybe it's a language thing? God, I can't imagine having to talk about this stuff in another language. For all I know, let him go in Croatian and there'd be no stopping him. Maybe with Danijella – oh, speak of the devil.

"Dani and me," he's drying my back and I can't see his face, "we never got this far. The children, money, the war – always something else to worry about. We never got to the place when we had to make ourselves remember what it was we fell in love with, you know, start loving each other in spite of what we were. That's when the work would have started I guess." There's a pause as my nightshirt is dropped over my head and he looks at me steadily, waiting.

"Is that where we are?" He laughs a little at that.

"We've always been there."

"We have?"

"Sure."

"Not easy, is it?"

"You noticed that, huh?"

"Well, you know, with my superior communication skills and powers of perception . . . "

"You can joke, but – "

"You think I'm joking?"

"– but it's true. You, you hide behind the smart ass stuff and I . . . well, I just hide. But I do get it, you know, every now and then."

"I think we're doing fine."

"You do?"

"Well, you know, getting there."

"I think that's all there is . . . getting there."

"Nice to have some congenial company on the road, though. I mean, Angela, meetings, they're OK, but us . . . that's the real stuff."

"I hope so."

"I know so." He's pleased with that and I say what I have to. "I'm sorry – about earlier."

"No need."

"Sure there is. I gave you a pretty hard time for doing the same thing to me."

"You were right. And so was I. Hold still." He's taken my head between his hands and is tilting my face up toward the light.

"What?"

"Just checking."

"Checking what?" I'm remembering the morning he looked at my still bruised eye when I stayed at his place after Brian. I feel a little hot suddenly.

"Looks like you got it out by yourself."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"The plank. In your eye." My look must be as blank as my mind because he goes on "Didn't those nuns teach you anything?"

"Obviously not."

"You know, the one you should take out of your eye before bitching about the speck of dust in someone else's?"

"Oh, that plank. I think we called it a beam."

"Lost on you."

"What, we're trading proverbs now? Bring it on, because I'll kick your ass, Mr. Little Talk."

"Hey, at least I know my Bible. Look, you meant well; counts for a lot."

"You meant well too."

"Which is why you forgave me." He perches on the edge of the tub and pulls me in close, or at least as close as my size and shape will allow.

"No way, that was nothing to do with you or your good intentions, which, while we're getting Biblical, we all know pave the road to Hell."

"No?"

"No, that was your dad. He scared the shit out of me. He told me to forgive you and I didn't stop to argue." He rests his head on the baby.

"So I have my dad to thank for this?"

"Ignoring how really creepy that sounds, I guess so. He's a remarkable man."

"One word for him." His breath is hot through the fabric of my nightshirt.

"And he has a remarkable son."

"You think Damir's remarkable?"

"Funny. Although of course he's very handsome and if I'd met him first . . . "

"I think perhaps you can stop now."

"No, maybe I'd have made a good lawyer's wife."

"You make a great doctor's wife."

"I do?"

"Can't imagine anyone better."

"Smooth."

"I thought so."

"You ready for bed?"

"Always."

"I didn't mean – "

"I know. Come on – you're sleeping for two now."

I'm on the edge of sleep when he says "You wouldn't have asked Carter, would you?"

"For back-up? No way." And I know it's true, I know the words would have turned to ashes in my mouth. He's quiet for a long moment before he answers, and I can hear the smile in his voice.

"I knew that."