Chapter 1
"I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where…" P.N.
Yet another Saturday night and there Kate Beckett stood, in front of yet another mirror, inside yet another restaurant ladies' room, and as was so painfully familiar, she, yet again, knew the few moments she was able to spend there would end up being the most treasured of the too many others she'd ultimately have to exchange for them.
One date a month had been the pledge she'd made to her business the year before. If asked, she'd agree to go on one per month, no ducking, no dodging, no excuses. That was how dedicated she was to it and to her clients, and while her commitment remained as yet intact, the sacrifice of time and energy had grown heavy to the point of tedium. To the point that the powder rooms of the city's finer dining establishments had become sanctuaries, a fact as sad as it was true.
Unfortunately for Kate, as beautiful a woman as she was, and with as many attractive qualities as she possessed, she was asked a lot, and her underestimation of her own magnetism had led to an ever-growing list of nights like that one, nights where she was driven by dispassion to escape, if only briefly, to the comfort of solitude, of silence, wherever she could find it.
Hence, that night's round of Restroom Respite.
Drying her hands, she slowly passed the paper towel beneath her nose before discarding it, invited in the remnant swirl of mint and rosemary from the trattoria's soap. The finish line was in sight she assured her reflection, not with words but with a look from eyes that'd stepped in long ago for a voice fallen hoarse from like promises. Soon there would be home and a book and bed. Alone. Quiet.
"That's a nice dress," remarked the woman who stepped up to the sink beside hers. "I've been admiring it since you sat down. I don't know if you saw me. My date and I are at the table across from yours."
It took a second for it to register, but Kate had noticed her. The deep smoke of her eye makeup and the pin-straight hair of near white in its blondness that framed it weren't easy to miss.
"Oh, yeah, I did. And thank you, about the dress."
The woman dug into her handbag and retrieved a black eyeliner pencil, leaned over the counter, and began to thicken the layer of smoke as Kate watched on, absorbed by the act of defiance against nonnecessity.
"I'm just as bored with my guy as you are with yours," she commiserated mid-application. "I could tell. Sadly, it's something I've gotten good at. Just once I'd like to meet a man who's more interesting than the menu. You'd think in a city of 8 million people it wouldn't be this hard."
Kate immediately began to wonder if her own date had perceived what her chatty new friend rightly had, and then just as quickly realized she didn't much care. She was bored, so bored she was hiding in the bathroom, daydreaming about chamomile and Chekhov.
The woman stopped and turned toward Kate, bumped out her hip so her body was propped against the marble counter.
"Do you ever get the urge to bail, to just sneak out and not go back? I mean, it's exhausting having these same conversations every weekend, and for nothing. I swear I have more worthwhile discussions with my cat."
Kate laughed, not because she'd heard something amusing or ridiculous, but because she'd heard something she understood.
"I do. I definitely do. Listen,"-she reached into her own purse-"this is my card. I know most people are doing this stuff online, but…"
She let the woman read it, react in the way so many did.
"Seriously? You're a matchmaker?"
"Maybe I can help," Kate told her and earnestly believed she could. She'd helped a lot of people, so many it managed to soothe the bitter burn that on occasion flared as a result of her success; a side effect she was neither proud of nor pleased she couldn't control.
"It'd be a great story, wouldn't it? I randomly meet a matchmaker in the restaurant bathroom in the middle of a terrible date, and she ends up finding me my perfect guy." Kate shrugged a tiny shrug. "I'll think about it, thanks. I'm Amanda, by the way."
She glossed her lips and headed for the door, where she paused and looked back.
"If I don't call, if I'm walking down the street tomorrow and bump into the man of my dreams, I hope you find your person. You help other people find theirs. You should have that."
Kate stayed there alone another minute or two, mentally catalogued her escape room among all the others and awarded it 8/10 for its flattering lighting, bold color scheme, and aromatic soap, all of which made returning to the table and her date even less appealing than it already was. But, as always, she did it anyway.
xxxx
Not three steps inside her apartment door, Kate dropped her purse to the floor, kicked her heels off beside it, and took the deepest breath she'd taken all night. It was blissful, the freedom from all of it, from the shoes and the mindless chitchat and the version of Kate Beckett the last few hours challenged her to be. Hell, the stillness alone was a slice of heaven, and so she stood there a moment in the dark and feasted on it before she did the one final thing the date required of her.
Wandering into the kitchen to put water on for the tea she'd been craving, she pulled out her phone and dialed Lanie, her dearest friend and the one with whom she shared a standing pact.
"Please tell me you snuck off to his bathroom and you're calling me naked with a huge smile plastered across your face. I'm desperate for a happy story. I'm sitting here watching the news and it is depressing as hell."
Kate flipped on the burner beneath the kettle, gazed at the blue flame as she talked.
"Fully dressed, in my kitchen, no smile. Sorry," Kate said bursting her bubble, "but I'm alive, I've done my check-in, and now I'm going to hang up and leave you to your likewise thrilling night."
"Yeah, right," Lanie shot back with a single burst of laughter. "When do I ever let you off that easy?" She'd grown well accustomed to hearing about Kate's lousy date nights, just as accustomed as Kate had grown to having them. "So, what was wrong with this one?"
"It's not…There wasn't anything wrong with him, Lanie. He was perfectly nice, just-"
"Yeah, yeah, I know he was nice. All these guys you keep saying yes to are perfectly nice. They're all fine and dandy, but none of them light you up and none of them are what you want. It's like you keep agreeing to go out with the same man over and over because you know it won't end up going anywhere and that's easier for you to deal with."
Her tone softened as she went on. "You and Will have been over for a long time, Kate. There's no way he's out there in Boston hiding from the world. When is it going to be time for you to put yourself out there again for something real, huh? Or do you plan on pretending forever that you're perfectly fine with just finding love for everyone else in this city?"
The kettle sputtered a hint of a whistle, and Kate twisted the knob so hard she nearly yanked it off the stove.
"Can you not do the doctor thing right now, Lanie, please? You're not a shrink, and I'm not in the mood."
"I'm not doing any damn doctor thing. I'm doing a friend thing. What, I can't want one of my favorite people to be happy? You deserve it, you know, more than most, and you're allowed to want it. We're all out there broken and carrying old shit around, Kate, but we don't have to carry it alone. All right, come on," she continued into the ensuing lull, "give me something. You know the drill. This guy, did he give you that special tingle, at least?"
Kate rolled her eyes as she poured, but also managed to crack a smile.
"You're gross, you know that?"
"Oh, a foul mood and suddenly you're some nice Nelly? Don't act like I haven't heard all your business before, Katherine, and straight from your pretty little mouth."
"There was no tingling, of anything," Kate conceded. Honestly, she could barely remember the last time a man had turned her on to that degree. "His name was Theodore. He wore a tie decorated with rubber ducks and he collected bottle caps as a hobby. Want me to give him your number?"
"Now I'm even more relieved you called. The man's clearly a serial killer. You were lucky to get out with your life."
They giggled together, a thing they did often.
"All right, I'll let you go. Have your tea. No doubt you've got some book calling your name. If this one involves a stable boy, make sure you let me borrow it after."
"Sorry I snapped, Lanie. I'm just…tired."
"I know you are." She knew Kate was that and much more. "And you know I love you."
For that love in her life, Kate was grateful.
xxxx
Some nights later, a man walked into a restaurant at the edge of Tribeca. He made his customary pass, greeted the staff, and shook a few hands that belonged to familiar faces before he parked himself in his usual spot, where his usual drink was waiting for him.
None of that was new or surprising. It'd all happened hundreds of times. What the man, Rick Castle, didn't know before he walked into that restaurant, however, what he couldn't have imagined, was that she'd be there, and though he'd never seen her until that very moment, he understood instantly that that night would no longer be like any that'd come before it.
If he'd had a dozen notepads there at the table with him, all their paper still wouldn't have been enough for him to get all the words down to describe what it was that was happening to him as he watched her from across the room. If such words even existed. He couldn't be sure.
Five seconds, five minutes, five hours it could've been. Everything in his world stopped. It was him and it was her and it was no one else, and while it lasted, it was paradise.
"Were you this creepy when we were married or is this a new thing?" It was like a record scratch sound effect had yanked him from a dream. "You're drooling, Richard. Wipe your chin."
"I didn't need another mother then, Gina, and I don't need another one now. The one I have will probably live to 110, and even then, they'll be dragging her kicking and screaming." He sat with the thought a few beats. That day the notion landed more on the side of blessing than curse. That wasn't always the case. "How's the book?"
She came around the table and stood directly in his line of sight to the woman. Purposely, of course. "As always, better than yours. We're 85 percent," she reported when he slid her eyes for the jab. "Don't just sit there and stare all night. Maybe do something helpful for a change."
When she walked off, Rick raised his glass to her departure and muttered under his breath, "Not listening to you always helps me." Then he drank to his wit and set his focus back on course, coincidentally at the very instant the object of it dipped her head back in laughter, and that was all he could take.
"Hey, Mike. Mikey." He called over the kid who was briskly headed elsewhere with his head down and a full tray in hand, presented his request in a hushed tone, and then sent him on his way again. There was work to be done.
Rick didn't yet know her name was Kate Beckett. He didn't know where she lived or what she did or why she was there. He knew only that whoever she was had, that night, already changed his life, and like him, Kate would see none of what was coming.