Sam was the last one in the bar. Carla made it clear she didn't like it—not one little bit—but Sam was the boss. And so he stood behind the counter, alone, counting the receipts.

And that was when the door opened again, and Diane came in with a glow, "Hello, my husband-to-be!"

Sam whirled to her, "How'd you get in?"

Diane frowned, glancing at the door as it closed, "Sam, you didn't lock the door."

Sam let out a sigh, shaking his head, "I thought I did."

"Well, apparently not. Oh—if you want me to do it for you, I'll be glad to—"

"Hey, don't even think about it!"

Diane turned to him, "Well, it wouldn't do to have someone barging in after closing—"

"Yeah, well someone just did—now go ahead and lock it, on the way out."

Diane sighed, and shook her head, "Sam…I know what you're so desperately trying to convey—but I hardly think it's worth leaving this door unlocked for longer than it has to be."

"Fine. Go right ahead, I don't care…"

Diane locked the door, and headed to the counter, taking a seat. "Funny thing, Sam: after freshening up, I found myself passing the time tonight, with Much Ado About Nothing."

"Yeah, what else is new?"

Diane sighed, smiling at him. "The play, Sam—the Shakespearian comedy! I'm reading it for a class."

"Uh-huh."

"Anyway…it concerns a man and a woman—Bededick and Beatrice—who spend their time regularly mocking one another and the idea that they could possibly pursue a romantic relationship. In fact…Benedick in particular scoffs at the idea of finding a woman at all, with whom to settle down. His friends, of course, seek to—"

"You trying to tell me something?"

Diane shrugged, "Why, Sam—is there something to glean from what I said?"

Sam chuckled, shaking his head. The receipts were done, now, and he put them away. "You know, you're incredible."

"Well! Thank you, Sam—I certainly try to be."

"No, no, no…I'm just saying, it's amazing to me, how you just keep on not believing that I mean what I say, when I say it's over—"

"Sam…you don't actually expect me to believe, after you opened your heart to me, that it was all a lie…now, do you?"

Sam just stared at her. She wasn't smiling, she wasn't teasing him…she was watching him, studying him and waiting for a response.

Sam shook his head again, "Why did you come here, tonight? Just to talk to me about old plays, or just to act nuts?"

Diane sighed, "Sam…I noticed you failed to follow through on your threat involving a date, tonight."

"Oh, so you want to gloat some more."

She shook her head, "Sam, that isn't fair—"

"No? Let me tell you something: if I wanted to have a date tonight, I'd have gotten one."

"And why didn't you?"

"Didn't feel like it."

"Sam…you certainly seemed to, when you sifted through that book of yours—"

"I changed my mind! I can do that, can't I?" Sam turned away, to focus on the glasses as he put them away. Anything—anything…to look at something other than her. Diane…sitting there, waiting for him to open up and "be vulnerable".

Yeah, I'll bet that's what she wants, isn't it? Just to see me on my knees again—yeah…on my knees, begging. Like I'd go through that again.

"May I help?"

Sam turned to her, with a smirk, "With what? I'm almost done." He went back to the glasses, putting them away.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Diane rising to her feet, and walking around the counter, and into the inlet, to him. Sam let out a scoff, and turned to her. She smiled as she met his gaze—a sweet, warm and kind smile she had to know would help lower his guard.

"Sam…please," she said, "Let me help."

Sam sighed, and shrugged. "Fine…whatever."

Diane nodded, and took her apron, tying it secure around her waist. Despite himself, Sam always liked watching her do that—and watching her take it off, when her shift was over. There was always something about it…like she was dressing or undressing in front of him. Maybe it was how casually she did it, like it was natural for her—not something unusual—like it was a part of her regular kind of clothes. Not for the first time, Sam wondered if she knew what kind of effect it had.

They were done in a few minutes, and Sam muttered, "Okay, sit down…I'll go cover the pool table."

"Aye-aye, captain!" Diane saluted, with a grin—and lifted herself onto the bar, sitting with her legs dangling over the edge.

Sam went straight to the pool room, without a glance. It was adorable as heck, what she was doing—and that was the worst part.

Easy, Sam…easy. She's trying to wear you down—that's all that's going on. Don't let her snag you. She won't let go.

When he was done with the pool table, he braced himself again, as he went back out into the main room. Diane was still on the counter—lying on her stomach, knees bent so that her feet hovered above. She was peering at something in the wood. Sam stiffened. He knew exactly where she was looking.

He cleared his throat, "Hey, um…" he walked over to her, "I think that's it, for tonight."

Diane looked up at him with a smile. "Sam, look at this!"

Sam looked down at the bar…and sure enough, there it was: SM + DC.

"Yeah…" he said, quietly. He could feel her gaze on him…waiting. Waiting, he knew in his gut, for him to turn to her, so they could share this moment…this memory.

Well, it was hopeless, anyway. He turned to her. She was still smiling, warmly…almost sadly.

"What a pair, huh?" Sam couldn't resist. He knew it would just dig him deeper…but he said it anyway. The truth was, Sam couldn't resist: the way she looked at him, how sincere and kind she looked…and how she looked, resting on the counter like that (something she would never have done if anyone else were around), propping her head up with her arms, resting her chin in her palms—darn, was she beautiful.

Diane sighed, and nodded, "Yeah…look at us, Sam. The two of us, so clearly in love—so deeply in love, and yet—"

"Hold on," Sam shook his head as he straightened up, "No one said anything about us being in love, right now—"

"I just said it."

"I know, and you're nuts."

Diane sat up, moving so that her long and slender legs dangled over the rail. She stared at the ground, as if gathering her thoughts.

"Sam," she said in a near whisper, "It's painfully obvious to me, at least. And I…I cannot believe you don't see it. I don't believe you're so blind, or so incompetent—"

"Hey, you've called me stupid, before."

Diane shook her head, "You of all people should know by now, Sam—I've never meant it. I may be…on occasion frustrated at your refusal to learn—at your stubbornness in your…lack of progress—but," she looked at him, "I never truly believed you couldn't do better…just that you, for whatever reason, never wanted to."

Sam looked off, shaking his head as he took a seat. "Yeah…'do better'. You remember the first time you said that kind of thing to me?"

Diane frowned, saying nothing.

"It was when I was trying to pick up a chick, and you were laughing behind my back. You said, it was a compliment—you thought I could 'do better' then no-brain babes with big racks."

"I don't recall using quite those words…."

"I know; I'm using them."

"Of course," Diane half-smiled, "And as I recall, Sam, you were suddenly motivated to hold your dates up to a higher standard of intelligence…which, I'm reasonably sure, is what happened today."

Sam chuckled, shaking his head, "Boy, you people. Sitting up, on high, looking down on the rest of us—"

Diane slid off the counter taking the stool beside him. "Is this better?" she smiled.

Sam shrugged, "Well, a little, but—no, the point is…you just love studying me, don't you? 'Progress'…'doing better'—"

"Sam, please…why did you cancel your date with Tiffany, if it wasn't that?"

"I'm sorry; I missed the part where it was any of your business."

Diane's lip tightened, as she stared at him in silence.

"Sorry," Sam let out a sigh, "You know what—yeah, you're right. I let what you said get to me—again. And I don't have a clue why I should even care—I mean…who cares if she's a brain or not? She's a body! She takes care of herself—and I'd say she's talented, huh?"

"Oh, yes," Diane nodded, "She's quite an acrobat, I take it."

"Yeah, I think she's a cheerleader, or something." Sam smiled at her, "Didn't you tell me once, you tried to—?"

"Sam, we aren't discussing me."

"No, hold on…" Sam stood and pointed to her, with a grin, "You told me you didn't make the squad, and you thought you were great—"

"I was!"

Sam chuckled, "So, are you jealous, or something? Tiffany made it, and you didn't—?"

"What—I…" Diane shook her head, as she stood, "Sam, I wasn't even aware she was a cheer—may have been a cheerleader, until you informed me, just now!"

"Uh-huh. But now you know."

Diane smiled, "Sam, I can assure you I'm not jealous of Tiffany. I don't have a reason to be—you cancelled, after all."

"If I hadn't, would you be jealous?"

"Not at all…but I'm curious, Sam: if you knew it might—would you have cancelled?"

"Hey, you said no, so that's kinda moot."

"Sam, I couldn't help thinking that you cancelled only because you believed I found your choice in…competition quite amusing."

"Competition, my eye—"

"I didn't find her a worthy competitor—and you knew I wasn't jealous at all, because of that."

"Yeah—maybe I should find more broads like Janet, huh?"

Diane froze, her smile gone.

Sam shook his head, "Not that I want to put myself through that again…."

Diane nodded, looking off.

Sam chuckled, shaking his head, "Do you know what she did to me?"

"Oh, I think I had an idea."

"I mean why she broke up with me…" Sam chucked at himself, shaking his head, "I can't believe I'm telling you this, but: she said I needed to bite the bullet, and admit I still had a thing for you!"

Diane stiffened, "Did she?"

"Yeah, she did. To be honest, I guess she wasn't the only one."

Diane smiled at him, and nodded, "I know, Sam."

Sam gave a light shrug, "So I did…and what happens? I go all out for you, I give you the kind of proposal you tell me you want…and you say 'no'. Why? Because you think I'm just doing it because of Janet. So apparently it wasn't good enough!" He looked off, and muttered, "Nothing I do's good enough…."

"Sam…" Diane shook her head, but Sam paced the room, going on:

"You know—I don't know why I should care, in the first place! What does it matter what you think, huh? You think Tiffany's not 'good' enough for me—fine! Heck with you—you know, I should've gone out with her anyway—we'd have had a great time! But for some reason, I didn't go through with it—because I was too stuck on what you thought. I can't find anyone 'good enough'—nothing I do—"

"Sam, stop it!"

Sam turned to her. Diane shook her head, pursing her lips. She looked like she was fighting a tear.

Sam couldn't handle it. For all the craziness she put him through…her tears were always enough to tug at his heart. He stated to walk to her, "Oh, come on—honey—"

Diane held up her hand, shaking her head. Sam stopped.

"Sam," Diane finally said, lowering her hand, "I'm sorry for saying 'no'. I am! Believe me, not a day goes by, where I don't find myself wishing with all my heart that I hadn't…hadn't hurt you as I did. But—oh, what can I do to make it up to you? I've told you—from that night on, Sam!—I've let you know how willing I am to make amends for it. Sam…I'm here! I'm open, and ready, and…and willing—" she blinked, and looked off, "Well, um…in a sense, anyway—"

Sam let out a sigh, "Look…Diane, I said it's done—and I'm sorry, but I mean it! You turned me down: fine! That's that. I'm moving on—now, excuse me if you won't."

Diane paused for a while. At last, she straightened up and looked him in the eye, "Sam, why did you propose in the first place, if it wasn't because you love me?"

Sam stared at her…and found he couldn't answer.

Diane stepped to him, "If it were any other reason…I sincerely doubt you would've reacted as you did. You opened you heart to me, Sam—and God forgive me, I didn't see it for what it was."

Sam shook his head, "Diane, I said it's done—"

"No, it isn't! Sam, I can't believe—"

"Why not, huh? You're so stuck on my still loving you—"

"Sam…love isn't something you can simply turn off—and I'd say your constant bitterness, these past few months, is proof of that!"

"Oh, please—Frasier was all bitter over you, wasn't he?"

Diane's eyes welled up, and she turned away…and Sam found himself desperately wishing he hadn't brought that up.

Great…real great, Sammy. "Diane, I—"

"No," Diane turned to him, "Sam, I…I can't believe it's the same thing. Frasier kept asking if I still loved you—and I know if…if I hadn't been so foolish—if I'd admitted the truth to him and to myself…he'd have accepted it before it could have possibly hurt him. It isn't the same…."

Sam walked to her, and took her by the arms. "Diane, I shouldn't have brought that up…I'm sorry."

"No," she said softly, "I should be sorry, Sam. You're right—I broke his heart, and frankly I broke yours, too. And…and I can only do what I can, to make amends for both."

Sam nodded, releasing her. Diane untied her apron, and used it to dry her eyes.

"Well, I don't think you need to worry about him," Sam muttered.

"But," Diane shook her head, as she put the apron on the bar, "You can't tell me you don't still feel the love you expressed on the boat, as you—"

Sam let out a sigh, "Diane, this isn't going anywhere good, for either of us—"

"Sam, why did you propose to me?"

"I don't know, okay? I…I thought it was because I loved you—but I'm just not sure, right now."

"Why not? Was it because I rejected your proposal, and you're trying to reassure yourself?"

"Boy, you sure have all the answers, don't you?"

Diane nodded, "In this case, I believe I do."

"Well good for you—because right now, I don't think this is going anywhere."

"It isn't, because you won't let it. Sam…I'm telling you, right now, that I am desperate to atone for the mistake I made. I love you, Sam! Why can't you accept that?"

Sam just stared at her, for a while unsure of how to respond. She'd said it before, of course…she'd said this kind of thing a lot, lately—but now, it left him stunned…not shocked, but—"I don't believe this."

"You—?" Diane blinked, "What…don't you believe? You don't believe that I love you, Sam?"

Sam sighed, and walked off a little.

"But I do—with all my heart! Sam, I wouldn't behave as I have, if I didn't—can't you accept that?"

Sam shook his head, as he smirked at her. "Let's not go down there, again."

Diane deflated, and stared at the ground. "So that it," she muttered, "You don't trust me—is that it?"

"Diane—"

"No…no, I suppose I can't blame you. You're afraid that if you open your heart to me once more, you'll only be hurt again. Is that it?"

There you go…she got you. She always gets you—does she know you that much?

"Hey…" Sam walked back to her, "Look…I don't think this is a good time for—"

Diane looked up at him, "When would be a good time for this, Sam? I love you—and we both know it. I know you love me…and yet…"

"Hey—we're making some big assumptions, here, you know—"

"Sam…" Diane stiffened, "What would it take to prove to you that I love you?"

"You know, I could ask you what it'd take to prove it's over between us—"

"Well, I'd say 'sincerity of action' if I thought for a moment you'd be capable of it."

Sam froze. "Pardon?"

Diane flinched, "Sincerity in this case, Sam."

"Oh…right. So you don't think I'm sincere about it."

"No, in fact, I don't. You've told me you're moving on…and honestly, Sam, I've yet to see it—and I don't think I ever will."

Sam threw his hands out, "You know—you call me arrogant? Has it ever occurred to you that maybe you're just driving me nuts?! I don't know what I want—okay? And you're not helping me a bit, with your smiling and teasing and wedding plans—do you know how SICK I get when you do that?"

Diane shook his head, "I don't think you're sick at me, Sam—at least, not like that."

"Oh yeah? Well, okay—if you're so smart, what's my problem?"

"I believe we already discussed it—"

"Oh, sure—I don't know if you love me, so I don't know if I love you! It makes perfect sense, doesn't it?"

"Do you know, Sam? Are you really so certain that your feelings are finis?"

Sam sighed, and shook his head, "You know, I don't think it's gonna matter how I answer that—you'll just twist it however you want, because you think you know how I really feel."

Diane looked off and smiled, "Well, we agree on the last part."

"There you go—THERE you go! Geez, I'm stuck with a loon who can't take a hint—!"

"Sam—" Diane held up her hand, "Please don't. I only mean, as far as I'm concerned, there's only one reason you would propose to me the way you did—and only one reason you would take my initial rejection so hard."

"Well, maybe you're just not thinking hard enough—you know that?"

Diane stiffened again, lowering her arm, and said, "Sam, if you don't truly love me—not enough to overcome this…this childish, petty obsession of yours with rejecting the offer of my love—well, then…then I was right to say 'no'."

Sam shook his head, "Sweetheart, you're not putting this on me—"

"I'm not! Sam…I refuse to believe that. I can't accept that you don't love me—and unless and until it becomes apparent that you don't, I have no choice but to hope…and to look forward to the day when you'll smile at me, beckoning me to you…and then holding me in your arms, and—"

"Diane," Sam walked to her, and shook his head, "That won't be tonight."

Diane swallowed, and nodded, "I know…."

She straightened, brushed down her dress, and turned to go.