I used my key to get it to Natasha's apartment only to find the lights up and she was sitting on the couch in pajamas. Steve had kissed me goodnight as he helped me into the cab and had paid the cabbie before sending me off. Always the perfect gentleman.

It almost seemed strange seeing Nat in cutesy pajamas on the couch. She said hi and looked up from her glass of wine and the TV.

"I hope your date went well," I said, taking off my earrings.

"Well, dating in New York is for crap," Natasha said. "You're welcome to the wine in the fridge."

"Wine in the fridge?" I asked.

"Boxed wine. Don't judge."

"Oh no, you're a girl after my own heart!" I cried. "What are you watching?"

"Grey's Anatomy. I have it recorded."

"Let me change clothes, I'll join you."

I went into my little closet of a bedroom and changed into my pajamas, taking off my jewelry and got out my present for her. I helped myself to a glass of wine from the box. Natasha had at least had one glass already.

"I meant to give you this earlier."

"Oh, nice! I love candles. They calm me down."

"This one is vanilla-scented," I said, handing it to her. "Okay, so tell me, why does dating in New York suck?"

"So, I'm all for money not being the end-all-be-all of life. But the guy who picked me up basically had the most ridiculous Ferrari and he didn't even know how to shift gears without messing up the clutch. And at the bar, he did nothing but brag about his job and all the money he made. And then I watched him undertip the bar staff. I know enough about living in the States that people in food service depend on tips to make a living wage-"

"No kidding," I added, a new appreciation for her.

"-And those people at the bar just looked livid, so I left a tip for them when I told him I wanted to leave. He got mad at me for that, and start complaining that maybe I should've paid the bill if I think he didn't tip enough and got up in my face. I basically told him that if he's got so much money, he needs to tip like a basic human being. The bar staff applauded me and he told me I wasn't that pretty anyway, and I said, 'I seriously don't care if you think I'm attractive or not' and caught a cab home."

"Whoa, really?" I gaped.

"He was probably coked up."

"No, you told a guy off!"

"Well, of course. Would you?"

"I know better; men could snap you in half."

Natasha burst out laughing.

"Oh, I forgot. You're special ops, like Steve." I remembered she was his 'work wife' and I needed to be careful with what I told her.

"He hasn't told you much about what he does, has he?"

"Is he allowed to?"

"Not really. But you're that afraid of men?"

"At night when I'm outside, yeah."

"Stand up, I'm going to show you some basic self-defense moves."

I gulped in horror. "I am not a fighter."

"A fighter fights fair. A survivor fights to the death to defend herself without any rules. When someone attacks you unprovoked, all bets are off. It's okay to do something that would normally be unfair, like inflict possibly permanent damage."

"Oh, I walk with my keys between my fingers in a fist all the time," I said, standing up.

She huffed at that. "Not enough and you can break bones in your hand doing that. Okay, I'm going to come straight at you, what do you do?"

She came at me, arm extended to grab my throat. I panicked and started to duck but she was too fast and caught me anyway. "Okay, look, if my hand touches your neck, shove the heel of your palm underneath my wrist to break my hold."

Nat proceeded to show me all different kinds of way to defend one's self from attackers, but I did a horrible job of responding. I squealed and discovered I was virtually helpless and saw a little annoyance on her face. I'm pretty sure we woke the neighbors and they wondered what we were doing.

By the time she was done showing me basic self-defense, I collapsed on the couch: she had barely broken a sweat.

"You know, the night Steve and I met, he was walking me home because I had no real way of defending myself."

"You Americans," she sighed, swallowing the last of the wine from her glass on the way to refill it. "I can't understand why he asked for you to stay with me."

"He says it's too soon," I said. "Should I be worried?"

"Aww, that's cute."

"Why?"

She came back into the room with a full glass of wine and a glass of water for me. "Dani, were you ready to share his apartment for the weekend and he said no, or was it the other way around?"

"The former."

"You mean he didn't want you to stay there?"

I nodded chugging the water. "He's interested, right? Just taking things slow?"

"He comes from a different time," Nat said. "Like, a very different way of thinking."

"Did he spend time Amish or something?" I asked. "Because he hardly knows anything fairly recent about pop culture. He doesn't like talking about his past."

"He has a reason behind that," she said brow knitting in worry. "Don't worry; he's got the purest, most valiant heart of anybody I've ever known. Although he sometimes thinks in black-and-white, but if you bring him back, it's fine. He's the most chivalrous person, he always volunteers for more on-call shifts than the rest of us, because he has nobody to come home to, and no job outside of what we do. I think a devoted girlfriend and partner would be a good thing for him. You will always be safe with him, he'll never hurt you."

"That's nice to hear, but… he's got secrets. You can't build a good relationship based on secrets."

"He can't tell you some of them. The rest are pretty unbelievable."

I swallowed, nervous.

"If he trusts you with it, it's worth it. Trust me. I'm going to bed, I'm leaving really early tomorrow for the country."

"Where?"

"Oh, a friend's. We haven't hung out much in a while and just wanted to hang out and drink vodka. But listen, about Steve: please be careful with his feelings."

I swallowed.

"I understand a lot of relationships don't work out, breakups are inevitable. But, if you lead him on and break his heart, if you're cruel and callous with his feelings and hurt him just for your own entertainment, if you are manipulative or use anything against him, I'll make sure you apologize to him."

"I'm not like that."

"Okay, good. Good night, Dani."

I was shaken by Natasha's threat. I knew she could kill me, even though she hadn't said it outright. I had no intention of hurting Steve for my own amusement.

I brushed my teeth and took out my contacts before going to bed in the tiny spare bedroom. Sleep did not come easily to me that night, I stared at the ceiling, reviewing all the things Steve told me: his parent were both dead and had died "a long time ago." They were immigrants. He had been born in the lower east side, and it "hadn't been that nice" of a place to live when he was a kid. I didn't know old he was, and he deflected every time I asked. He deflected on a lot of things he didn't want to answer, distracted me with other things. Not wanting me to stay with him was weird. Why didn't he want me to stay and up his chances of sleeping with me?

I didn't sleep much at all.

In the morning, I got up when my phone alarm went off and texted Steve that I was up. I found Nat was already having coffee, reading her iPad in the breakfast nook and a rolling suitcase was by the door. "Good morning," I said.

"Oh, hey," she said. "Help yourself to coffee. I just heard from Steve, and he's on his way over with breakfast."

"What's he bringing?" I asked.

"Bagels. You're okay with that?"

I nodded, pouring a cup of coffee.

"I hope I didn't scare you last night," she said to my quietness.

"Oh, you didn't," I lied. But she had: she was going to kill me if I messed Steve up.

"But I meant what I said, don't get me wrong."

"His secrets weird me out," I confessed.

"I'm sorry about that. They'll come out in time... if you can handle them. But I love him a lot like he was my own brother, so you understand why I'm so protective of his heart and who he's seeing."

I had the feeling Natasha knew what the secrets were and they were intense. "I mistook you for being a possible friend," I said stiffly.

"I do like you, but not as much as I care about Steve. I'm on your side. Both your sides. Don't give me a reason not to be."

"I'm going to get dressed and ready for the day, he's taking me out to do touristy things," I replied abruptly. I took my coffee to the bathroom to apply my makeup and dress for the day.

By the time I was done, the door buzzed and I heard Steve coming in the door. "I brought breakfast!" he called.

"Hi!" I cried, coming out, fully ready to go. He was holding a paper sack. I stood on my toes to kiss him and Natasha was standing in the kitchen doorway.

"How'd you sleep?" he asked me.

"I'm too excited to be in New York to sleep," I said, taking his hand. "What kind of bagels did you get?"

"Plain, But I brought lox, capers, and cream cheese."

"You're going to love it," Natasha said.

"Lox? Like fish?"

"Salmon," Steve said. "And it's delicious."

It actually ended up being good when I tried a bite of his before making my own. Natasha gave me the number to her super and told me to call him if anything went wrong, and that she was only available by text while she was out in the country. "Be careful of my room, remember?" Nat said.

"I won't forget," I replied.

"I'll keep her occupied," Steve said. "You girls had fun last night?"

"Natasha taught me some self-defense," I said.

A grin crossed his face. "I bet that was exciting."

"I am a complete newb," I muttered.

"She can't always have a big, strong man with her at all times," Natasha said. "I taught her a few secrets."

"Which moves?"

"Well, can't a girl have a few secrets to her own?" Natasha asked. "Well, of course, secrets aren't a good thing in a relationship. Dani, you might as well tell him what I showed you."

I glanced up to see if Steve had caught that: he was wiping up a few drops of coffee from the counter.

"I could take you on, Dani," he teased, oblivious.

"Not interested right now," I said. "I have a few bruises that need to heal first."

"Not too many?"

"No, not really."

"I have so much planned."

"Great. Have a safe trip, Natasha."

"I will," she said, putting on her coat.

"Where are we going first?" I asked, sweeping up crumbs off the floor.

"Radio City Music Hall. They're moving in the Big tree and they have the ice skating rink open."

"I haven't been ice skating since I was a kid," I admitted.

"Neither have I," he said. "This'll be fun."

It only took Steve a few minutes to pick up ice skating whereas I fell on my butt so many times, I was certain it was going to be completely black and blue and too bruised to fit into a pencil skirt I had brought for dinner. "You trust me, right?" Steve asked skating backward in front of me, tugging me along.

I panicked. Trust him?

I saw the hint of a smirk on his face. "What are you gonna do?"

"Some Olympic style stunts!"

"Steve, no!" I shouted, wringing out of his grip and his grin fell. I proceeded to stumble and tumbled onto the ice again.

"Dani, I wasn't going to anything more than pick you up," he said, picking me up. "Did you think I was going to drop you?"

"Well, that's a moot point, now," I muttered, rubbing my sore butt. "This was fun, but my butt doesn't like this anymore."

"I was about to suggest we go get some lunch. Come on."

After we found a food truck for lunch, the food vendor told us about a concert in SoBro. Steve looked confused.

"They make new neighborhoods everytime I turn around," he grumbled as we left the truck. "This city is so different from when I was a kid."

"They've done that for years!" I cried. "They do it in Nashville, too, now."

"Well, at least the Empire State Building is where it's always been. That's where we're going next. I got tickets."

I squealed. "You did! I'm so excited, how far can you see?"

"To all seven boroughs."

When we got in line at the building, Steve and I played a game of I Spy, only I lost every time he spotted something. By the time we got into the elevator to get to the observation deck, we realized the visibility was pretty poor. But the city itself was magical.

I was transfixed.

"Is it true that if you tossed a penny off the observation deck you could kill somebody on the ground floor if it hit them?" I asked.

"Nah, that's not true, that rumor's been around since I was a kid," he dismissed it.

"When were you a kid?" I asked.

"Um," he thought about it. "Um… longer ago than you think."

I drew back. "Why can't you answer a simple question like that?" I barked.

"Dani, let's not do this here-"

"You won't answer questions-"

"I'd rather not answer questions than feel compelled to lie to you," he hissed.

"Then tell me the truth! Are you younger than me, do you think I can't handle dating a younger guy?"

"No, Dani, I'm not younger than you," he said, exasperated.

"Then why can't you tell me things like about your childhood?"

"Because… because childhood for you is so different than what it was for me," he said.

"What is it? What happened that you're so secretive about when you were born? Were your parents illegals who smuggled themselves into the country when they overstayed their visas or something? I'm not going to tell anybody!"

"No, my parents came here legally. But my childhood was very different from yours."

I shrugged. "I doubt it was much different from mine."

"Okay, I'll tell you something about me. I was a really weak, wimpy kid. I had all kinds of medical problems, and the military rejected me a bunch of times. I spent time in a wheelchair, I'm a little sensitive about it."

I was stunned. He had been that sick?

"My father died in combat before I was born, too, so there. I don't like talking about being robbed of a father. My mother was a nurse and died really suddenly, so stuff sucked, pardon my French. I lost all my friends but one, too, but it's too hard to talk about it."

"In combat?"

He but his lips together. "Yeah. The worst was losing Bucky."

"You lost your best friend?"

"Yeah. We were like brothers, but when we enlisted we were in the Blue Spades together, I saw him die."

"That's horrible," I admitted.

"I pray for him every night before bed."

"His name was Bucky?"

"James Buchanan Barnes. I think about him every day."

He carried that wound in his heart. All semester long, I had done nothing but learn about how little boys were discouraged from showing grief and something like losing your childhood best friend had to have traumatized him greatly. I found myself slipping into the therapist role and asking questions.

"Tell me about your mom?" I asked.

"She was tough, but fair. Like most Irish Catholic moms are. She was a nurse. Like your sister."

"She had her BSN?"

"The equivalent, yes. She was smart, but she got involved with some really scuzzy guys when I was a kid a few times. We both got beaten up our fair share of times by them, but the police did nothing about it."

"I'm sorry," I whispered, taking his hand. Such a painful admission. I felt tears forming in my own eyes. I hated abusive people.

"The neighbors would call them, and Mom would be sobbing in the corner, and they'd take him outside to walk round the block a few times, while telling my mother not to make him angry, then he wouldn't hit her."

My stomach soured at those words.

"It usually made it worse. It didn't help for the police to come by."

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I wish it never happened to you."

"Well, it gave me a serious distaste for bullies," he said. "And I learned pain is temporary and dames love scars. Is that what you wanted to know?"

"I had no idea," I admitted.

"Alright, so I've embarrassed the hell out of myself," he said. "I'm sure you must think I'm a real chicken for not fighting them off."

"I don't think that at all."

"After Mom died, I almost went to seminary while I lived in the homeless shelter at church."

"You were homeless?" I repeated, stunned.

"For a short time, yeah. A few times. Mom and I got evicted when we came up short on rent. It was like camping, I guess. Just we were hungry and cold and didn't know when it would end."

"She'd be proud of you now, and all you do."

"One can only hope," he said gripping the bars looking out over the city.

"Can I ask what she died from?"

"A lung disease."

"Lung cancer?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Is she buried near here?"

"Yeah. In a mass grave out in Queens. I was too poor to buy her a grave plot."

I almost choked.

"We were Catholic, remember? No cremation."

"Where did you go to school for art?" I asked, trying to change the subject.

"It was called Auburndale. It was, by today's standard, unaccredited. The degree would have meant nothing. It's been closed for a while. What else do you want to know?"

"I didn't mean to provoke you."

"...I didn't mean to be rude."

"I feel like I know you better," I said, thinking about the secrets he kept and the ones Nat played gatekeeper for with me.

"Maybe dating you… dating you is a bad idea."

My stomach curdled.

"You're breaking up with me on the spur of the moment?" I sputtered.

"No, just thinking aloud."

"You don't say those kinds of things if-"

"Maybe I'm better off alone altogether and it was a mistake to try to bring you into it."

"What?" I cried.

"I'll send you back to Nat's place. I'm sorry Dani, it's me, not you."

I guffawed in shock. "If that isn't the oldest break up line in the book!" I cried, horrified. "I'm sorry I wanted to know you better, Steve!"

The look on his face was painful. "Let me take you home."

"I'm fine getting home without you."