7-9 PM, Monday

I'd wanted to get back to the city immediately, but Rose talked me into staying by reminding me Maurice was working and I had plenty of time to share a late dinner with them and still get home before he did. She offered to watch the kids overnight, which put a bit of a disgruntled look on Sully's face.

"Where are we going to put a one-year-old?" he griped.

"Kate always keeps the portable crib in the trunk just in case," Rose argued.

"What's he going to eat? He's got no teeth."

"Kate is always prepared. I'm sure the diaper bag has enough food for all four of us." She was wearing him down.

I'm not sure what I looked like at that moment, but when Sully glanced at me his expression instantly softened and he said "Fine," less grudgingly than I would have expected.

And thank God for that, because I can't even imagine how things would have turned out if I'd decided to take them home with me. Sometimes, on nights when I can't sleep, the thought still gives me chills.

With hugs and kisses and the promise that I'd come pick the kids up mid-afternoon the next day, I finally hit the road.

My first stop once I'd left the cabin was to the nearest pharmacy, where I was quickly able to confirm Rose's suspicions. I was all knocked up.

That explained everything. The barely controllable fury, the sobbing, the vomiting, the mercurial mood swings.

This was an entirely new experience for me, though. The last two pregnancies had been a breeze when it came to this type of thing. Of course, I'd had a gigantic appetite, but my emotions had been on a pretty even keel. I'd had a little of what we'd liked to call 'baby brain', meaning the baby actually ate my brain because there was absolutely no evidence to show that I had one. Those days had tended to generate a good deal of laughter, I remembered fondly, as I drove. Things had been great all along. Blissful, warm and perfect.

Odds were, this was just some big misunderstanding.

But what if it wasn't?

What if he was actually involved with that woman?

Then what?

I brooded a long time over that one.

And I finally decided that if it was a chronic issue, he'd have to go. But I didn't for a second believe that was the case.

If it was a one-time thing, I'd have to do whatever it took to get beyond it and learn to trust him again.

I ran my left hand across my forehead and eyes. How had I gotten here? From there…

When I'd walked into the inn the morning after his scheduled wedding, Maurice had been the first thing on my mind, and the last thing I'd expected to see. Yet there he was, with his ringless left hand and a look of uncertainty.

Paul had called across the room to me, "Kate, this young man is here to see you." Master of the obvious, he.

I'd reached over the counter to set my bag and water bottle down.

"Hi," he'd said, and had studied my face to gauge my reaction.

"Hi," had been all I could manage, shocked speechless.

Paul had stood behind the desk, shamelessly looking from me to Maurice and back again.

He'd glanced at Paul. "Can we talk?", he'd asked, implying privacy.

"Um, in like twelve hours," I'd said apologetically, gesturing at Paul, whose scrutiny had started to feel invasive. I'd had a difficult time wrapping my mind around the unbelievable moment.

"Paul, can you cover for me for a minute? I'll be right back." He'd agreed, but had looked disappointed that I was taking the entertainment elsewhere. I'd pulled Maurice outside.

"Look, go hang at my place. Make yourself at home. I'll be back just after six. We can talk all you want then."

"I want to talk now." Instant gratification being his thing.

"I can't just walk away from my job."

The look on his face had been priceless: disbelief and irony. "Since when?"

"Fair enough. I can't just walk away from this job."

He'd nodded, arms crossed, looking at the landscaping, the trees, everywhere but at me. "This is about Joe, isn't it? Should I just leave? I mean, did I make a mistake? I'm too late?"

He'd interpreted my inability to think or act as disinterest.

I'd frowned at him.

"I thought you knew."

He'd looked at me blankly. Exhaustedly.

I'd grasped his face in my hands just as I had the first time I'd kissed him.

"It's all you. Always has been."

"Ah," he'd cleared his throat, stepping back. "Eleven hours," he'd checked his watch, "forty-five minutes. I'll, uh,wait. Got a key?"

"It's open."

He'd shaken his head with a wry smile. "You're a fool."

I'd gestured at him, smiling. "Clearly."

He'd quickly flicked his eyes over my shoulder then back again. "I'll let you get back to work. See you later."

I'd turned, expecting to see Paul, but instead faced David and Joe, with identical curious looks on their fraternal faces.

David had held the door for me and I'd ducked inside, hoping to escape that curiosity with a busy morning.

Paul had had a few things to fill me in on, but David and Joe had made it crystal clear that they wanted to pry into my personal life as soon as humanly possible.

I'd dragged my feet as long as I could.

I'd even created 'busy work' in order to avoid the conversation.

At one point I'd paused to take a swig out of my water bottle and that had been, of course, the moment Joe had chosen to poke his head out of the office.

"Still busy?"

I could only answer inthe negative.

I'd shaken my head 'no' while swallowing the mouthful of water and setting the bottle down. Joe had held the door wide and I'd ducked under his arm. He'd closed the door behind me.

They'd started peppering me with questions I couldn't make heads or tails of because they were both talking over each other. I'd held my hands up and they'd stopped.

"All I can tell you is what I know for certain. He didn't get married. He's here. I love him. Now you know as much as I do."

Hands clasped on his desk, Joe looked out the window.

"It was a pre-existing condition," I'd said apologetically. He'd just nodded.

David had tried to leave the room discreetly, but he'd had to physically move me, as I'd backed myself against the door. He'd squeezed my shoulder as he stepped around me and left.

Left me looking at Joe.

He had stood, hands in his pockets, looking out the back window through the lush gardens at the carriage house.

"I'm sorry." I'd said.

"Well, the heart wants what it wants, right?" He'd given me a crooked smile.

I'd mumbled something in agreement then added something awkward about needing to get back to work. He'd turned back to the window.

Longest. Day. Ever.

Paul had shown up fifteen minutes late in a passive-aggressive attempt to get back the fifteen minutes I'd taken from him that morning. I'd barely said goodbye before bolting for the door.

I'd burst into the apartment breathlessly, and dropped my bag on the coffee table just as he came out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dishtowel. We'd just looked at each other awkwardly for a minute before he said tentatively, "I was trying to make something. You look like you could use a sandwich." He looked me over, "Or ten."

"Stop being such a boy scout. Two and a half years and you think what I want is a sandwich?"

"Holy God." He'd said, tucking his arms behind his head, staring at the ceiling.

"Definitely worth the wait." I'd agreed. I'd sighed and we'd fallen silent for a few minutes, until I laughed.

"What?"

"I want you again."

He'd looked over at me. "We're going to get along just fine, aren't we?"

By morning we'd put together a two-week plan. I'd give my notice, finish things up and fly back to New York.

The best laid plans… Two weeks turned to four. Then six. Then eight.

Joe and David had hired Shannon.

She hadn't been the brightest candidate, but she was very sweet and I'd sensed sparks between her and Joe from the very first day.

David and I had been on the same page. I'd offered to stay on and train her relentlessly, so she could grasp Joe's filing system. David had started inviting Shannon to join us all for dinner. Turns out that while she wasn't an expert with the computer, she was a whiz in the kitchen. She and Joe began to bond very quickly. And David definitely approved.

When I'd finally made it to New York, Maurice had picked me up at the airport.

I'd dragged my suitcase into his apartment and looked around, remembering the first time I had done that. I think I'd made a comment on the fact that he'd painted the walls green, and had wondered out loud whether it was out of spite.

On the drive home we had behaved like teenagers at every stoplight, and a couple of times the cars behind us had had to remind us to move on, so I wasn't at all surprised when he slammed the door shut, knocked my suitcase out of my hand, pulled me into the bedroom, and made me forget that I had something to tell him.