"So, Orli," Josh began, "mano a mano-"

"If you're trying to say 'man to man' in Spanish, it's not working," Orli cut him off.

Josh looked vaguely offended. "Everything I do works."

Orli smirked. "If you say so."

Josh waved a hand, brushing aside Orli's sarcasm. "So," he continued grandly, "forgetting the Spanish, Orlando- if I may call you Orlando-"

"What else would you call me?" Orli interrupted, looking disturbed.

"Well, I usually call you Orli, don't I?" Josh appeared surprised. "Stop messing up the vibe, bucky."

"Bucky?" Orli repeated incredulously.

"You know," Josh said conversationally, "this little chat is not going at all in the direction I anticipated."

Orli's brow furrowed. "Where did you learn all those big words?"

"I read, Orlando," Josh said primly. A strapping man at six feet two inches, the priggish attitude did not suit him. "Anyway."

Orli had a feeling he knew what was coming, and at eight that night, rather than being stark raving drunk, he merely had a Very Bad Hangover. He fell backwards on his bed, wincing as it bounced beneath him. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Yes, you do." The annoying thing about Josh, Orli thought, was that he was like a very smug kitten: nobody could quite get through to him that he wasn't always in charge. "Tell me."

So, he did.

"And why is this such a big deal?" Josh asked, frowning. "You had some stupid disagreement over your not having enough time and now you won't even talk to each other. I don't get it."

"You'd have to be one of us to get it," Orli tried to explain. "We can't handle all this, we really can't. We, um, never meant to become parents this soon." Ignoring Josh's surprised expression, he continued, "I'm even beginning to wonder if we were really ready for marriage."

All in all, it was an uncomfortable two weeks. On the rare occasions when Jenn and Orli did speak to each other, it was with a curious, stilted formality. Michelle observed from the sidelines with a growing impatience; Josh, with a sense of impending doom. To say that they were all happy to be leaving two weeks later was a massive understatement. True enough, they'd enjoyed themselves; Jenn had even been cast as an Elf in the very last scene of the movie and took a great amount of delight in her pointed ears and silky gown. They'd exchanged farewells with Beth, with many promises to keep in touch and Beth's assurances that she would indeed visit next time she and Viggo were in the States. Jenn stepped off the plane in La Guardia with a guilty sense of relief that at least when they arrived home, she and Orli could properly avoid each other without constant but well-meaning therapy sessions, mostly from Josh. Michelle, over the past two weeks, had tended to make herself scarce as far as heartfelt dialogues were concerned, and Jenn and Orli alike were grateful for her quiet presence.

"Jennifer?" an almost-familiar male voice called questioningly, and Jenn looked around, confused.

"It is you!" the voice cried in triumphant surprise, and Jenn found herself looking up into the face of her old flame.

"Matthew?" she said in disbelief. She hadn't seen him in nearly four years, since he'd told her very simply that he'd been seeing someone else and didn't want to see her anymore. "I'm happy with Marilyn," he'd told her definitively, and she'd turned away so he wouldn't see the devastation in her eyes. It was nearly eight months later that Michelle had introduced her to Orlando, who'd picked up the pieces of her broken heart and never given them back.

"How have you been?" he asked lightly, shadows chasing each other across his dark eyes. She wondered what he was thinking- perhaps remembering the note they'd ended on so long ago. She'd walked out his front door, careful not to slam it and let him know how hurt she was, and refused his invitation to go to lunch and catch up two years later. "I'm happy with Orlando," she'd told him definitively, and had been viciously pleased to hear the catch in his voice as he bid her good-bye and hung up.

"I've been pretty good," she told him, half-truthfully as she remembered that her domestic life was currently in question.

"I heard about the marriage," he acknowledged. "Hasn't it been about a year by now?"

"We celebrated our anniversary last month," she told him proudly, trying not to think what they'd done with themselves the past two weeks. "How are things with Marilyn?" Admittedly she hadn't talked to him in years, and she observed no wedding ring on his finger, so she could guess the answer, and realized that it was probably not the smartest thing to say.

Again, a flicker of a shadow ran across his face. "It didn't work out." Jenn waited silently, regarding him, but he didn't elaborate. "I'm sorry," she offered finally, tentative.

He smiled suddenly. "Don't worry about it."

Jenn sensed that a change of topic was in order. "So where are you going?" She was gratified to see the catch of relief in his eyes that they were, at least, no longer talking about his ex.

"Just got back from California, actually," he answered casually, smiling. His teeth looked very white against his dark tan. "Took a long weekend off with the guys. What about you?"

"New Zealand," she replied succinctly. "Orlando had reshoots for Return of the King. I got to be an Elf!" she added excitedly, and his face lit up with hers as he witnessed her enthusiasm.

"Jenn!" she heard another familiar voice call, and turned to see Josh waving at her from some twenty feet away, gesturing pointedly at her four bags of luggage, splayed on the floor at his feet.

Jenn heaved a theatrical sigh, held up a finger to let him know she'd be right there, and turned back to Matthew. "I'd better get going," she told him regretfully.

He looked mildly upset, but merely asked, "Do you live in the city?"

"Yeah," she responded, looking hopeful once more. "I don't have your number, though. I had no idea you were in New York. I thought you still lived in Texas."

"Moved," he said briefly as he pulled out a permanent marker. "Got any paper?" She shook her head, and he smiled, pulling her arm towards him and writing down his number in thick black letters. "There," he laughed, "now even if you're one of those people who shower every day you have no excuse not to call me." He held her arm a moment longer than was necessary, as though reluctant to let go. Though Jenn was proud not to be an adulteress, even in the face of her current difficulties, she had to admit that his touch did wonderful things to her. She could feel the lingering pressure where he'd held her, could smell his cologne as he stood so close. It made her dizzy. "I'll call you," she promised. "Maybe we could get together and do lunch next week."

His eyes, which had held so much varying emotion during their short conversation, lit up again. "That'd be great."

"Isn't that like a date?" Josh asked two days later, helping Jenn unpack her second suitcase. He himself was "too lazy" to do his own unpacking and had only managed to unpack half a suitcase. In fact, Jenn was apparently the only one who could be bothered to do the thing completely. At the moment, Orli and Michelle were downstairs eating lunch.

Jenn sighed, tugging a pair of lacy underwear out of the mesh side pocket. "For the eighth time, no. We're just having lunch together. I haven't even called him."

"Wouldn't that be cheating on your husband?"

Jenn closed her eyes and counted to ten. It was not sufficient. "Goodbye, Josh."

He looked surprised. "Are you going somewhere?"

She gritted her teeth. "You are."

"I didn't know that!" he cried, sounding upset.

"I don't need to be interrogated to the nth degree about having lunch with an old friend," she snapped, her patience already worn very thin after another attempted conversation with Orli had blown up in their faces.

"I think we let this whole thing get out of hand," Orli had told her that afternoon as they unpacked together. Glancing over, she saw him looking at her with concern, a toothbrush in one hand and a tangled blonde wig in the other.

"I think that's a bit of an understatement," she'd responded carefully. She was tired of arguing, but still didn't see where she had committed any wrongdoing, and he'd shown no sign of making an apology for his behavior.

He'd sighed. "So can we share our feelings about this?"

A small smile had begun to tug at the corner of her mouth. "Have you been talking to Josh?"

"Maybe," he had answered, sheepishly. "Lack of communication, apparently that's our problem."

"I think so. But I don't quite see what I did wrong," she'd started, unwilling to ask for an apology and unwilling to apologize for nothing.

"It was just stressful," he had tried to explain. "And you were nagging me-"

Unthinking, she'd cut him off. "I was not nagging! I was trying to be reasonable. All I wanted was a little bit of time together. It was supposed to be special."

"But you knew I wouldn't be around much," he'd pronounced reasonably. "It wasn't like it was a surprise, nor like I was out getting drunk with the guys every night."

"I didn't know your daughter would completely forget who you were," she had retorted, irritated at having been blamed.

"For God's sake," he'd cried, exasperated, "not that again."

"The point is still valid," she had protested. "It was hard on me, too. And then you went out and got drunk and couldn't even be bothered to let anyone know where you were or when you'd be back and my God, Orli, you were driving, did you think about that? And the worst part is, you went off doing God-knows-what with Liv Tyler and then tried to tell me she was better than me. Which is fine. Or would be if you weren't married to me."

"I never said she was better," he'd said, face rapidly changing colors. Jenn had watched, fascinated. Pale to blotchy red and then faintly green. It was, she had mused idly, very Christmas-y. "I said she was willing to listen to me when you weren't. You were the one who jumped to conclusions when you saw us on that picnic blanket talking. Which, patently, indicates that you have a trust problem with me. As in, you don't. People aren't supposed to get married unless they trust each other. So you might have mentioned this problem before our wedding."

Jenn had jumped all over what she saw as a grossly unfair accusation. "What are you saying, you wish we hadn't gotten married? We could always get divorced if that's what you're after." Her voice, to her chagrin, had broken then. "Is that what you want?"

He'd looked up then. "Don't start crying on me," he'd warned, sounding even angrier than before, and that had only made the tears come faster.

"You know," she'd cried, "if you didn't want to get married then maybe we shouldn't have. If I'm that much of a problem to you, that much of an annoyance in your life…."

"I never said that…" he'd started, and then they had both started yelling, neither listening to the other.

And on it had gone.

Josh watched her now, looking worried. "I'm not interrogating to the nth degree. I'm just a bit concerned that the way things are between you right now, it might not be a good idea to go out with other men."

"Worry about yourself, Josh. I appreciate your help, really I do. But you have no idea what I need right now. Here," she said, handing him the lacy underwear. "Second drawer from the top on the left-hand side," she ordered, indicating the dresser.

Josh appeared faintly repulsed.

"They're clean," she stressed, annoyed, and Josh daintily took them by the seam between two fingers, looking horrified as he placed them in the drawer, per her instructions. "Hey," she added on a sudden inspiration, thinking of Orli and Michelle in the kitchen. "What do you think they're talking about down there?"

Josh saw the hopeful gleam in her eyes and gave the answer she needed to hear. "Probably you."

"What do you think of, um, gentlemen's clubs?" Orli asked Michelle.

Michelle didn't glance up from her taco salad. Naturally she'd made herself completely at home in his kitchen. "Well, I've been to a wide variety of gentlemen's clubs, so I'll have to ask you to specify. What kind of gentlemen's club?"

"I haven't gotten that far," he admitted. "I just need something to take my mind off this whole stupid argument."

"Well," Michelle said around a mouthful of meat and lettuce, "when in doubt, I would highly recommend a good brothel."

Orli turned green, just as he had done with Jenn. "I didn't say brothel."

"Ah." Michelle merely nodded, wise sage that she was.

"I was thinking just go out with some of the guys. Dom's in town, and it was his idea, actually," Orli explained helpfully.

Michelle waited.

"Dom claims it always makes a man feel better when he's feeling like crap."

"You know what else makes a man feel better when he's feeling like crap? Talking to his wife. I've heard divorce court is a real hassle, 'specially if it's not amicable, you know?" Michelle asked.

"I think it sounds like fun," Orli said defensively.

"Divorce court? No, fun would be getting hit by a train after walking through a monsoon in which you managed to get struck by lightning, and then going home and realizing you're out of milk. Fun would be when the house next door is supposed to be demolished, but the demolishing guys start demolishing your house instead. Also, I don't think I've ever used the word 'demolish' so many times in one sentence. And brothels, not so much fun either. They're kinda lacking in morals, if you ask me." Michelle took a deep breath, apparently not done.

"I meant," Orli said, interrupting her tirade, "going to a gentlemen's club or something sounds like fun. Plus, I said not brothels, and you recommended it in the first place. And I never asked you."

"You did so ask me," Michelle retorted, the epitome of maturity.

"Clearly it was a lapse in judgment. I'm sorry."

"Would you like my opinion now?" she queried, ignoring him.

"I thought you already made yourself pretty clear."

"Did I?" she asked, surprised. "Let me make it clearer. It would be a great idea if it didn't suck. Remember last time you went out and got stark raving drunk?"

Orli sighed. "I should have known better than to ask your opinion."

"Yeah," Michelle agreed, finishing her salad and getting up to clear away her dishes. "You should have."

"I don't really think you need to be going spastic over this, Orli," Josh said worriedly a week later as Orli paced the room, every so often stopping to throw a hairbrush violently into the toilet, or to wring out a washcloth that he seemed to think was wet. This unusual behavior had Josh somewhat concerned. "It's seven in the morning. Jenn's not even up yet."

"I'm not going spastic," Orli snapped back, sounding frazzled. "Does this look spastic to you?" he demanded, swinging his arm out in a large arc. Plop. Another unfortunate brush landed in the toilet. Orli allowed himself a vindictive smile; Josh noted that the hairbrush, like Orli's three previous victims, belonged to Jennifer, who had made a lunch date with Matthew for that day.

"All right," Josh said firmly. "We're going out."

"Out?" Orli asked. "Out where?"

"Someplace with no toilets or brushes." Josh placed his hand under Orli's elbow and steered him away.

In all of their enormous house, Jennifer's favorite place had always been the window seat in the gameroom. She had never seen the need for a gameroom, herself, before Ally had come along, since they had, for the most part, grown too old for childhood toys. But she loved that window seat. Growing up, she'd never had one. Now, she had decorated it with throw pillows and a down blanket done in shades of lilac and dusky blue. Orli had always complained that the blanket was too girly.

Jenn was sitting there now, the blanket thrown over her long legs even though it was still summer. Early August on the east coast was still warm. She looked out the window, watching the rain plummet in driving sheets, fascinated by the way the falling drops made the puddles on the cul-de-sac dance with sparkling leaps and bounds. It would flood, probably, but she did not care.

The sound of a shrill car horn startled her out of her reverie. Jenn hopped up, took one last look at herself in the mirror- khaki pants and a navy blue blouse over a cream tank, hair combed neatly into place- before running downstairs and snatching up her umbrella on the way out the door.

Safely in the black Saturn, she turned to Matthew and grinned. "Bit wet out today."

He smiled and reached over to give her a one-armed hug. "How've you been?" Without waiting for an answer, he ploughed on, "I didn't really expect you to call me. But I'm glad you did," he added, seeing her mouth drop open in surprise. He turned to back out of the driveway. "Is the Aquarium okay with you?"

Jenn couldn't hide her surprise. The last time she'd been to the Aquarium had been for her mother's fiftieth birthday party. It was not a place she traveled to with ten dollars in hand. It was not a place she visited casually. It was not a place, in short, she had imagined going to catch up with an ex-boyfriend. "I didn't bring that much money," she said aloud.

"Don't worry about it. It's on me," he insisted.

Jenn squirmed infinitesimally. Whatever she had told Josh, it felt strange to be going out with Matthew. They'd been together nearly two years; aside from Orli, theirs was her longest relationship. Two months before Jenn's twentieth birthday, it had ended abruptly. And now, this get-together for lunch was beginning to smack of a date. It made her very uncomfortable.

Matthew set off, zipping along the highway at nearly eighty miles an hour. It was one of the things they'd always had in common- their love of speed. He glanced over. "Are you okay? You look upset."

Jenn quickly wiped emotion from her face. "I'm fine," she said, a trifle too quickly.

Matthew raised a skeptical eyebrow. "You know there's no pressure here. I know you're married; I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

Jenn sighed. When they'd dated, Matthew had always been able to tell what she was thinking five minutes before she'd figured it out herself. "I know. It just feels weird, you know? Orli and I are in the middle of this big fight- our first fight ever, really, and I'm going out with my ex-boyfriend." Before she knew it, she was telling him all about it.

Matthew was a good listener. He could hold a phone for hours on end and never say anything but, "And then what happened?" It was one of his most endearing qualities. That, Jenn mused, and his eyes. Big blue-green eyes that really did, cliché though it sounded, open the windows to his soul. Jenn wondered what could possibly have gone wrong with Marilyn. Matthew was so sweet; he'd even made an honest attempt to be kind when he'd told her he'd been seeing someone else, trying to take the blame to himself.

And then Jenn wondered, not idly, why she thought he was so sweet when he'd cheated on her.

Matthew pulled into the parking lot at the Aquarium and hurried around to her side of the car to open her door. She smiled self-consciously. "I feel like I should have gotten more dressed up, now. It feels so… formal."

Matthew smiled too. "It can be whatever you make of it. You look beautiful the way you are."

She blushed, ever so slightly. "You don't mean that."

"Why wouldn't I?" He looked genuinely surprised.

She smiled bashfully as he offered his arm and escorted her inside.

After they'd been seated- a good forty minutes later- Jenn shrugged off her raincoat, a last-minute addition to her outfit which had proven itself useful but served its purpose, as she and Matthew sat down. They'd been seated next to a giant fish tank, which Jenn found both interesting and disturbing. Interesting, because Nemo, or possibly Marlin, kept swimming up and pressing his nose against the glass. Disturbing, because there was a fish with a nose that resembled a chainsaw acting in the same manner.

They laughed and joked like old friends as they ordered calamari to split, salmon for Matthew and shrimp for Jenn. It was, Jenn thought, like their third date, except that that had been at a Bennigan's, and afterwards they had kissed for the first time. In fact, it was Jennifer's first kiss altogether. Oh yeah, she remembered that date. It was stored in her memory in vivid color with sound effects. So little had changed since then- they might look different, and be in a different place, talking about different things- but Jenn still took note of the way he gestured animatedly when he was excited, the way his eyes flashed when he grew passionate, the way she gently responded to his stories, laughing and teasing him at all the right times. They still, she realized, acted exactly the same as they had on the third date. She could only hope they did not forget themselves and conclude this date exactly as they had that third date. It was easy to get caught up in the moment. Matthew had a way of making her forget herself.

"What I don't get," Michelle announced, "is why they can't make the cheese so it fits on the bread when I make my grilled cheese. I always have to use two slices, and that's just a waste. Plus, it adds calories. What could be worse?"

If she expected an answer from the otherwise uninhabited kitchen, she was sadly disappointed. The kitchen had nothing to say; perhaps it wanted to think her words over. Michelle had been roped into babysitting when Orli had staggered in at seven-thirty that morning, asking Josh to come stay with him and Michelle to watch Ally. Michelle suspected that he was mildly upset over Jenn's imminent lunch date, so mildly upset, in fact, that he'd forgotten to bring over any baby necessities. Michelle had driven over to Orli and Jenn's within two hours and had found the place empty, except for Jenn, who was in the shower, rushing out to the grocery store, and then staring out the gameroom window before going off with Matthew. Michelle suspected it was better to leave Jenn to herself and had located Ally's diapers with minimal socializing. She'd also found bread and cheese, and had, as was her custom, made herself at home.

With a sigh, Michelle flipped over her grilled cheese and popped Ally's bottle in the microwave. "And you know what else I don't get," she told the baby as she plopped the bottle on Ally's tray, "is how you enjoy this stuff. I mean, it's crap. Don't tell your mother I've been using bad words with you," she added conspiratorially. "But between you and me, kid, come on. Look at this. Strained peas in carrot sauce. I don't think so. You poor girl." A tear leaked out of her eye. "You're going to be like one of those abused kids they have on television. I can see the headlines." She swept a hand above her head, gesturing at imaginary newspapers. "Two-month old taken away from mother due to mother's attempt to malnourish her baby." She gave a sudden gasp of horror. "But what if it was Orli? That's more Orli's kind of thing. I bet it was him." She gave Ally a little kiss on the head. "I'll take care of you," she swore. "You and my kid will have a fabulous time together. Once she's born, of course. Or he," she added, struck by a sudden inspiration. "Hey, listen." She bent down to look Ally in the eye. "You're going to have to skip that whole cootie phase after I rescue you from your parents and start feeding you cake and ice cream if my kid's a boy, okay?" She jumped up suddenly. "Crap!"

Her grilled cheese was hissing on the stove, and she rushed over to assess the damage. "Burnt to a crisp," she told Ally sadly, and banged around the pots until she found one to cook some macaroni. That done, she sat down the chair next to Ally and fed her the strained peas, a disgusted look on her face.

"I don't understand," Josh proclaimed, "how you can actually have a signature drink."

"And it has a tiny umbrella in it," Orli said, almost giggling. "As opposed to your thing. It's so little."

"It is not little." Josh looked a bit too offended for the occasion. "Yours is just enormous."

"Thank you," Orli said tipsily, and went back to his drink. Two seconds later his attention had returned to Josh. "What is that?" he asked in reference to Josh's drink, sounding as suspicious as if he suspected Josh of poisoning him.

Josh swept it towards him. "Try it. Irishmen swear by it."

"I bet they do," Orli muttered distrustfully, sniffing the dark liquid skeptically. "I bet they say, 'What the f is this?'"

"Orli," Josh admonished. "You're not that drunk. There's no need for that talk."

Orli shoved Josh's drink back towards him. "I don't want it."

Josh stood. "Well, you've had enough Mai Tais, and I don't like this drink. I'm pretty sure you're right about what the Irishmen say. Let's go."

Orli clung to his drink as though it were the last thing on earth. "No!"

Josh looked faintly amused. "Orli. Come on."

"I won't do it," he declared, clutching the glass to his heart. A lock of his unkempt hair, in want of a trim, fell in his face as he swooned slightly.

"I don't know what to make of you," Josh sighed, and sat back down.

The macaroni cooked and eaten and Ally happily fed, Michelle decided that the best thing for both of them was some fresh air. Having cleaned up the strained peas, which had somehow found their way onto not only Ally's face and clothes, but also the walls and the door, an impressive twenty feet away, she set Ally down on a blanket as she went to put on her shoes.

"You would think," she told Ally in mild indignation, "that when your daddy wakes me up at six, wanting me to baby-sit, he would have the decency to bring over a stroller and some diapers. But instead I find myself at your house, searching the whole stupid first story to find baby wipes. Go figure. Speaking of which…" She sniffed. "You need another diaper change."

After changing Ally's diaper and lacing up adorable little shoes on her feet, Michelle walked happily out the door, whistling in a horribly off-key voice.

Five minutes later they were back. "There was only a ninety percent chance of rain," Michelle complained. "Now I have no clue what to do with you." She set Ally down on a blanket in the family room and shoved a rattle under her nose as she set off for the bathroom.

Having finished her business, Michelle flopped down on the floor next to Ally, who was lying on her back, not playing with her toys. "Is this normal behavior?" Michelle wondered aloud. "I thought usually you couldn't get babies to sit still, unless they were sleeping. Are you sleeping?"

Ally chose not to answer, and Michelle leaned over to see if her eyes were closed, which, in fact, they were. In fact, her face had a slightly bluish tinge to it, and Michelle felt the beginnings of alarm.

"You're not breathing, are you?" she asked in a would-be calm tone. Ally's chest was not rising and falling.

"Oh God, oh God, oh God," Michelle breathed, and ran for the phone.

"He what?" Josh asked in disbelief.

Orli, hunched over the computer, sounded defensive. "You think I'm making things up?"

"I think you're stark raving drunk," Josh answered flatly. "Which is why you can't go take Ally away from Michelle right now. You'd probably drop her in the toilet, thinking she was a hairbrush."

Orli glared up at Josh in suspicion, but Josh determinedly kept a straight face and returned their attention to the topic at hand. "Shove over. Let me see that."

"He was questioned about his girlfriend's murder?" Josh still didn't sound convinced. "What did you have to hack into to find this?"

Orli suddenly became fascinated by a bird perched outside the window of Josh's study. "Me? Hacking? Josh, I am hurt. I don't even know my way around my e-mail."

Josh stretched, yawning. "No, but you seem to be able to find your way into the Atlanta police department just fine." He frowned. "What was he doing in Atlanta, anyway? I thought Jenn said he went to college in Texas and stayed there."

"He probably moved after they broke up," Orli declared. "Because he was such a total and complete asshole that he had to flee the country."

The words Josh muttered under his breath sounded suspiciously like "drunken dumbass." Aloud he told Orli, "Atlanta is in Georgia. Georgia is in the United States. So are we." He spoke as though to a two-year-old.

Orli's mutterings were completely indiscernible. "I need a nap," he announced, and staggered over to the bed in the next room, nearly missing it and hitting the floor instead.

Josh, torn between smiling at Orli and frowning at the computer, returned his attention to the latter, skimming an obviously standard police record. Bits and pieces jumped out at him… first-degree murder, criminal trial, hung jury, evidence all circumstantial, suggested sentence no less than seven years in a high-security prison. Josh blinked, unsure what to do with this newfound information and altogether forgetting to read the bottom of the police record for the man named Matthew Rock.

Jenn felt pleasantly full by the time she was halfway through her shrimp. Matthew was still attacking his salmon with unrivaled alacrity, and she looked on in amusement. Nothing's changed, she thought again, smiling inwardly.

He glanced up to find her staring at him, and she quickly averted her gaze, stabbing a bit too hard at a piece of shrimp with her fork. For some reason Matthew looked suddenly nervous. Jennifer chanced another glance up.

"Is something wrong?" she asked in genuine concern, noting the look on his face.

He blushed slightly, keeping his eyes determinedly on the glass tabletop between them. Jenn cocked her head to the side, confused.

Finally, Matthew looked up. "I have something to say," he began. "And you don't have to say anything back, you never have to see me again if that's how you want it, but I can't walk away not having said this."

Jennifer merely looked at him, inquisition in her eyes. He paused, apparently steeling himself to do something exceedingly difficult.

"Marilyn and I were together for over two years," he started, sounding distant, and Jenn felt her insides turn glacial. They hadn't seen each other in four years, having been together for two before that, and all he wanted to talk about was Marilyn? She opened her mouth to say something angry, but he waved her unspoken words away with his hand.

"It was only a couple of months when we were together that I was seeing her on the side," he continued, looking almost properly embarrassed. "And those couple of months- I enjoyed myself. I guess because I was beginning to worry that you wanted more out of our relationship than I had to give. I started feeling suffocated, like I needed breathing room. I wasn't ready to commit myself to one person, and you were. That scared me. I know it was still wrong. But I can't take back what I've done, and I've already apologized a thousand times, and if by doing it a thousand more I could make it all go away I would. Anyway, Marilyn and I had been broken up just a month before I called, asking you to go to lunch and catch up, and you told me you were happy with Orlando." His voice caught. "I guess I deserved that.

"Marilyn was… suffice it to say we didn't end things on a happy note. I don't like talking about it. That was a bad phase of my life. That was probably the worst mistake I ever made. I think I still loved you. I was just scared of taking things further than they were. I didn't think I was ready to fall in love with one person; I wasn't ready to imagine the rest of my life. I loved Marilyn, too. I fell hard and fast for her. I guess you can love two people at once."

"But you have to make choices," Jenn cut in. Her fingers, unknown to her, were curled tightly around her forgotten fork, the knuckles white. She could see two different directions this conversation could go in, and she did not like either of them.

Matthew looked surprised, but nodded. "You have to make choices. I made mine." He was staring down at the table again as though it held the secrets of the universe. "I was wrong." He raised his head slowly to meet her eyes, and Jenn found her heart beating fast. Simply to have something to do with her hands, she stabbed absently at her shrimp and was altogether surprised when her fork, which in fact had not captured any shrimp, landed in her hair.

He opened his mouth, and she heard the words from far away. "I still love you."