9 PM, Monday

Six hours of this guy's nonsense, and I finally told him to shut up and listen to me talk. Seriously, he hadn't shut his mouth all night.

I'd made it clear I hadn't wanted a permanent partner. After Faith, I knew I could never have that kind of thing again, and didn't even want to try. So I got stuck with a lot of transients and rehabs. Or maybe they got stuck with me. But that was okay, as long as it was short-term.

This guy, though. He had just spent three weeks at the 78th. And they'd pushed him over to us. I was hoping we could push him somewhere else before I got stuck with him again.

He was all of thirteen and just kept talking about his mother.

All night.

Most of the time I'd tuned him out because I was thinking about Kate, but it finally got to the point where I couldn't take one more word from him.

I'd stopped the car abruptly and turned to him and asked him if he knew what it was like to love a woman. I was serious, because I really believed the kid lived in Mom's basement.

He'd said sure, plenty of times, deliberately misreading my intent. Probably the same answer I would have given at his age.

"You have no idea." I'd told him, pulling away from the curb. "You have to love the whole woman and all the little things that make her who she is."

"I could love me a whole woman right now." He'd grinned.

"Great. Back to Mommy again." He'd been about to object, but I just started talking loud to shut him up.

"You know what I love about Kate? I love that she drowns her salad in so much dressing that it becomes useless as a healthy alternative."

He grunted.

"Ever notice something like that about a woman? A detail like that?"

He took a minute to admit it. "No." then added, "I don't even get their names half the time."

I looked over at him, long enough for him to know I knew better. "Right." I'd said, and continued. "I love that she checks out muscle cars like kids like you check out women. With that –" I searched for the words, "head-turning, stride-stopping gawk." Marrying a writer had improved my vocabulary by osmosis.

"She likes old cars?"

"Real cars. Classic cars." I'd corrected, and fallen silent for a moment. The kid sensed an opportunity and launched into a story about his mother and The Birthday From Hell.

I ignored him and moved on to other things I liked about Kate.

I thought about how, a couple of years earlier, she had started growing her hair to her waist , then cutting enough of it off to donate to Locks of Love. She was on her third time around, and it occurred to me I hadn't seen her hair down in a while. She wore it up all the time with the kids. And, lately, even to bed, as if it bothered her. And I'd never met a woman who grew her hair for anyone other than herself.

I liked that she so preferred paperback books to hard covers that she would wait as long as it took for the paperback version of a book. No matter how popular it was or how much buzz it had generated, she would wait. Like she'd waited for me.

I loved that she was so independent, yet she made it clear that she needed me completely.

I loved that she was a great mom. Beyond great. One morning about a month earlier, through the closed bedroom door I could hear Mikey's screams of laughter dissolving into giggles that would then escalate into a squeal. Then belly laughs. He had a great laugh.

I'd rolled over and squinted at the clock. 10 AM. He was usually in a foul mood until at least noon. Not that he got that from me, or anything.

I'd thought maybe Kate was on to something.

I'd passed by Amanda, who was sitting three feet from the TV watching Cinderella, her favorite that month. She had been eating dry Cheerios out of a cup. I'd kissed her on the top of the head and she'd waved me away impatiently.

I'd eased my way around the corner to the kitchen, not wanting to disrupt what sounded like a really good time.

Kate had been bouncing Mikey on her right hip and feeding him applesauce with her left hand. She was chirping cheerily to him, a Kate-modified version of one of the songs from - what else - Cinderella. The one the mice sang.

"Boscorelli, Boscorelli, night and day it's Boscorelli. 'Change my diaper, do my laundry, where's my dinner, when's my bath time?'!"

Mikey had squealed again, and she'd inserted another spoonful of applesauce into his mouth. He'd immediately pursed his lips and spit it back at her. That particular brand of stubborn hadn't come from me; that was all Kate.

"Cute song." I'd said.

"I can make one up for you, too, if you want." She'd offered, handing me Mikey so she could go change her shirt. She'd paused and added,"Probably wouldn't be rated 'G' though."

"I'm good. As long as I can look forward to an R-rated evening."

"R?" She'd echoed. "Where's your ambition?"

I loved that she never got tired of me. Not personally, and especially not physically…she never told me no. Icould wake her at three in the morning and she'd be as enthusiastic as if it were the kids' naptime on a Saturday afternoon.

I never had, but I could.

As a matter of fact, I remembered a morning about two months after we were married - it was the morning after a particularly entertaining evening. I'd found her in the kitchen, filling the pepper mill like Ralphie loading his Red Ryder BB gun. I'd asked her where her desire came from and she had just laughed and told me to go look in the mirror. I'd said I was serious and she'd said so was she. Then she looked up from her work and gave me one of her smiles. "Just making up for two and a half years of lost time, I guess."

"We did that the first week."

"Speak for yourself." She'd said, with a wink.

Huh. The mirror. There had been one time – one incredible time- I think it must have been around the same time after the wedding. She'd complained that her clothes were constricting, even though I couldn't see any difference in her. She'd had this work thing that required something dressy, so she'd gone shopping.

That evening I'd been riding with this guy I'd just decided to call 'Goober'. Nothing had been happening, so we'd decided to take a break for dinner at around six-thirty.

I'd known Kate had been stressed about finding just the right thing to wear, so I'd called her on her cell to see how it had gone. She'd answered and told me she couldn't decide between the black dress and the green. We had been literally right around the corner from the shop she had been at, so I'd told her I'd be right there but I was betting on the green. I'd told Goober he could wait a minute or two for me or go three doors down to the sandwich place and get something.

The shop had been icy, like a museum, and when I'd asked the clerk where the dressing rooms were, he'd looked alarmed.

I'd explained that my wife was having a hard time choosing a dress and shrugged and he seemed to understand, but I think the uniform put him off. He gestured toward the corner. "Dressing rooms." He'd said.

"Women's?"

"Unisex." He'd clarified.

Super.

When I'd stepped in it had seemed deserted. Then I'd seen the closed door down at the end on the left.

I'd walked down and said, "Kate."

"Come in," she'd chirped. I'd pushed the door open and she'd been wearing a classic black dress.

"That's perfect." I'd said. She'd ushered me in and locked the door behind me.

"You think so? I can't decide. I really think I like the green." She smoothed the front of the dress, over a stomach I'd been pretty sure was showing nothing yet. Her eyes had gone from her own reflection to mine and she'd stopped and exhaled deeply. She looked at me from head to toe and back again.

"I haven't seen you in that since..."

"The first night." I'd finished for her.

"Honey, you are my Viagra."

"Like you'd need it." I'd scoffed.

"You wanna talk about what I need?" She'd met my eyes in the mirror.

"No. Don't go there. Just let me see the green dress." She'd shrugged off the black dress. I'd just realized I had foolishly let myself be locked in an enclosed space with a half-dressed Kate.

She'd quickly put on the green dress, which had been absolute magic with her hair and eyes. I'd zipped up the back. It had been stunning.

"That's the one." I'd said.

"Okay." She'd said, and I'd unzipped her. She'd let the dress drop to the floor, hung it back on it's hanger, then turned around and clasped both hands behind my neck.

"Thank you for all your help, Officer."

"Oh, no. Kate. No." I'd said.

She'd just smiled and given me a kiss that told me I wasn't going to get out of there anytime soon. I been moving to gently push her away, but the second I'd put my hands on her bare waist, there'd been no fight left in me.

"I've got this Goober waiting in the car," I'd protested.

"Then we'd better make it quick."

The strangest part had been standing there waiting with her while she'd paid for the dress, with the flamboyantly smarmy clerk looking at me like he knew. I hadn't thought he was that smart, but it had still felt like he knew. It was probably just that he'd had something stashed out back that he didn't want me to know about.

As Kate had been signing the sales slip, I'd stepped up behind her and whispered, "Don't ever do that to me again." With enough of a stern tone to let her know I was serious, but enough humor to let her know I wasn't mad.

"Any chance I get." She'd countered, and had flipped the pen back at the clerk with a nod and a smile. She'd been true to her word, too, because later that year she'd managed it again at Sully's Fourth of July party.

We'd stepped outside and a horrifying thought occurred to me. "Surveillance cameras! For shoplifters! Kate!"

"There weren't any. I checked."

"You checked?" I asked, incredulous. "That was premeditated?"

"No. I just always check. I like to know."

I'd breathed a monstrous sigh of relief and she'd given me a very thorough kiss goodbye.

"Wear this home tonight. Hot, hot, hot."

"After that? You get nothing!" I'd exclaimed.

"Hm." She'd said. " A challenge.".

She'd turned and walked down away from me, garment bag over her shoulder. Four pregnant and hot as hell.

Goober had gone to the sandwich place and was just finishing up something that looked very satisfying. I realized I was really hungry.

"Sorry I took so long. " I'd said. "She couldn't decide green or black." I'd started the car. He hadn't even heard me. He'd been watching Kate walk away.

"Damn!" He'd exclaimed. "You're hittin' that? I'd hit that. Definitely hit that."

" 'That', " I'd snarled, "Is my wife. Need. I. Say. More."

He'd fallen silent. And he hadn't said a word the rest of the night.

I remembered when the show Jon and Kate Plus Eight had started she'd watched five minutes of it then had left the room declaring that she was absolutely going to change her name.

And the time, just before our first anniversary when we'd planned a weekend of camping and hiking in the Adirondacks. It had been about fifteen minutes before the end of the shift and I'd been dying to get out of there, busting a gut to finish up some paperwork, because Kate was meeting me and we were going straight up there. When I'd turned in the papers at the desk, the guy asked "You Boscorelli?" When I'd nodded, he'd flipped a plain white envelope at me. "Someone left this for you."

I'd opened it and shook out a book of matches. From our wedding. With our names and the date stamped in gold. Turns out 'Kate' wasn't short for anything. Mom, the only smoker I know, had ordered 500 of them in spite of the fact that we'd had like twenty-five guests. Kate kept them in drawers all over the apartment,with candles, in case of a power outage.

I'd frowned at it. Why would she leave this for me? And I'd flipped it open and read the message she'd written on the inside, "Come on, baby, light my campfire."

Try to set the night on fire, indeed.

I couldn't wait to get home tonight.

Unfortunately, with that thought, a call came through that jolted me back to reality.

And after that the night went to hell and the kid got a decent education about life on the streets before going back home to Mommy.