10 PM Monday

A stop for gasoline and a huge cup of coffee interrupted my retrospective. I had been thinking about my first night back in New York: I'd definitely had to make a trip up to the roof. "Frasier Guy is still here," Maurice pointed, "but Laundry Lady moved out sometime ago." I'd wondered if he'd ever been up here with Deb, but I hadn't asked because I really hadn't wanted to know.

The following morning I'd left what I'd thought had been a sleeping Maurice, and had gone to make coffee. I'd been fussing with a new coffeemaker with all kinds of confusing gadgets when he'd come up behind me and wrapped his arms around me. "Marry me." Just like that.

The filter full of the previous day's grounds hit the floor. "What?"

"Marry me." He'd said simply and shrugged. "What did you think this was about?"

"I wasn't thinking that! I mean – " I didn't know what to say. "I didn't - I wasn't-" But he'd been in that place – that commitment place. He'd been prepared for it and had almost done it. It had scared the hell out of me. I had just been thinking about how this apartment had been my entire New York universe for those four days and that the notion of coming and going as I liked had been a strange one. I'd felt a sudden claustrophobia. Breathe, Kate, breathe.

"Okay. Okay. You obviously need some time to think about this."

"Yes," I breathed gratefully. That was it. "Time. And I haven't coffee yet."

And we'd both looked down at the grounds scattered around our feet. He'd taken my hand and stepped back, pulling me out of the mess.

"Why don't we go out to breakfast? There's a great diner closeby." He'd changed the subject, and then the setting. But only to sidestep my defense mechanisms. To attack from a different direction.

"Come on," he'd pulled me toward the bedroom. "Get dressed. Let's go."

I'd stopped short. "I have to tell you something."

He'd turned around with a look of warning. "The last time you said something like that – " He'd stopped. "Tell me." He'd said with trepidation.

Remember when you came up north-"

"Pretty sure!" He'd prompted quickly, expectant, impatient.

I'd grabbed his hand. I hadn't known how to do it, but I'd known I'd have to wait to do it in person, so I'd just blurted, "There's, um- we're...uh. It's a baby. I found out last week. I didn't want to tell you over the phone."

He'd blinked, looked at me blankly for a full minute, then smiled his 'I won' smile. "Now you have to." He'd squeezed my hand.

I'd snatched my hand away. "I don't have to do anything."

He'd grabbed it back. "Now you have to!" I'd been unable to form words.

And he'd nodded and repeated, "Now you have to."

I pulled my hand free and stomped toward the bedroom. "I'm getting dressed."

"All I just heard was 'yes,yes,yes'!" he'd called after me, going to clean up the coffee grounds.

As I'd been getting dressed, I'd heard him call his mother.

Now I had to.

That had been the first time I'd had to tell him. And here I was looking at a third time. I don't want to get into statistics and percentages or anything, but all things considered, we were damn lucky we didn't have eighteen at this point.

The diner had been six or seven blocks away and as we walked Maurice told me, "Next week. Next month. Next year. Whenever you want."

"I just want some time."

"Time for what?"

"I don't know."

"Look, either you want to or you don't. Which is it?"

"I want to."

"Okay. Your mind's made up. If it's only a matter of time, why does time matter?"

In other words, it's inevitable, why wait? Sometimes the man made sense.

"How long does it take to get the blood tests and marriage license?" I'd asked.

He'd shrugged. "Couple of weeks."

I'd taken a deep breath and exhaled loudly. "Couple of weeks, then. After Christmas."

He'd stopped, put his hands on my shoulders and looked in my eyes, very seriously. "Are you sure?"

I'd nodded. "But we go all in. Divorce is not an option."

"Deal." he aid, then added, "We can do this any way you want. Big, small, underwater, top of the Empire State Building, diving out of a plane…"

I'd continued walking. "I want a Star Wars theme." I'd said matter-of-factly.

"Anything but that."

We'd settled into a booth at the diner and ordered coffee, but when it came, Maurice had tried to take mine away.

"You shouldn't have that."

"Oh," I'd said and had started sliding toward the end of the booth to leave, "If this is how it's going to be just forget it."

"Wait." He'd grabbed my wrist. "I just want what's best-"

"Coffee is best." I'd growled.

He'd released me and slid my mug back toward me. "Coffee's good." Hands up in surrender.

After a brief silence, he'd said, eyes bright, "Let's talk honeymoon!"

I was about to tell him I didn't think we needed one when someone stopped at the table. "Long time no see."

Faith. I jumped up and gave her a hug.

She slid into the booth next to Maurice. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"We're planning our wedding." He'd groused.

"Words I never thought I'd hear you say, and here I've heard them not once but twice." She nudged him. "Are you actually going to show up for this one?"

"You know I was there. I just- I couldn't-" He'd glanced out the window then back at me with a look of desperation. He'd wanted me to change the subject.

Before I could say anything, Faith had continued. "Do I get to be 'best man' again? Because you know there's nothing I like better than telling a church full of people to go home."

Maurice had fiddled with his napkin. "That won't happen this time," he'd mumbled.

When the waitress had come back I had been able to see the relief on his face.

I'd ordered a bacon, tomato and swiss omelette, and he'd started to say something about the nitrates in bacon, but the look I'd given him had made him stop mid-sentence.

Faith had asked, amusedly,"What was all that about?" as the waitress returned and thunked down her diet soda.

I 'd nodded at Maurice. "Officer Friendly here is over-protective. He's going to be a father."

He'd scowled. "I'm one now. It's just a matter of location."

"Congratulations." Faith had sipped her soda through the straw and arched an eyebrow at Maurice. "What are you going to name her?"

"Her? How do you know it's a her?"

"Cosmic justice." She'd reminded him and sat back. "So, is this going to be a more formal affair, like your first wedding?"

Seeing his discomfort, I'd jumped in. "I was thinking small and intimate and as low-key as possible."

"I'm starting to think elopement!" Maurice said pointedly to Faith through his hands, which were covering his face.

I'd looked at Faith. "Don't you sometimes wish you could apologize for other people?"

"I did apologize" she reminded me. "I made excuses. For years. He's all yours, now."

"Ooh," I'd mused. "That aspect has never occurred to me. Maybe we can negotiate. You can take him for visitation. On weekends..." I'd offered hopefully.

She'd shaken her head. No way.

Maurice had dropped his hands from his face and glared at me.

"This is supposed to be a happy time."

"You've kind of done this to yourself," Faith commented drily. And the waitress brought our breakfasts.

Maurice had pointed his fork at my plate. "You eat all of that. I want you to stop looking like a heroin addict."

"I lost weight because of you." I'd pointed out.

"Now you're going to gain it because of me." He'd quipped, with a smirk.

I'd given him my best Clint Eastwood squint, then had eaten exactly half of what was on my plate. And asked for another cup of coffee.

"Kate, you just got the 'I let that go for now, but I'll be back for it' look." Faith observed.

"I have the feeling I'm going to get that a lot. Because I plan to cause it a lot."

"A baby," Faith mused as if the thought had just sunk in. She gave Maurice a sideways look. "That's a lot of responsibility. And a lot of change at once. Are you ready for that?"

"It's not that much. Kate doesn't have that much stuff -"

"Any stuff." I interjected.

He glanced at me and finished, "-and we just need to get a crib." He'd shrugged.

"And a dresser, a car seat, baby clothes, baby toys, baby monitors, baby bathtubs..." Faith rattled off a list that made Maurice look like he was rethinking the breakfast he'd just had. "Not to mention finding a new apartment." she'd finished.

"A new apartment?" He'd echoed.

"You need two bedrooms."

"I tought it would be easier if we kept the crib in our room."

"Sure, if you want to traumatize the poor thing." She squinted at him. "Is that why you're the way you are?"

"Very funny."

I nudged him under the table with my foot. He looked over.

"I love the way you are."

"Oh, please!" Faith rolled her eyes. "You two were much more fun to be around when you hated each other."

He'd clasped my hands in his own, and given Faith a deliberate and defiant look, and said,exaggeratedly, "Do you think that's true, Shmoopie?"

" 'No, you're Shmoopie'." I'd responded.

" 'No, you're Shmoopie'."

"Enough Seinfeld. I get the point." Faith had looked at me. "Do you have a maid-of-honor in mind?"

I'd thought for a minute. "No. The only real friends I have - " I'd begun, then said to Maurice, in jest, "I suppose Joe is out of the question."

He had just given me a look and made that little muscle in his jaw twitch.

"Sully?" Faith had added humorously.

"Father of the bride." Maurice had grumbled. (I had forgotten that it had been his idea. I'd have to rub that in next time Sully gave him a hard time).

"I guess I just won't have one. This whole thing is so surreal I wouldn't be surprised if we ended up having it standing on our heads on the moon, wearing Hawaiian shirts."

"Thus the term 'honeymoon'." Faith had kidded.

"He wants one. I don't think we need one." I'd said.

"Three days is all I'm asking. All of a sudden it's a crime to want to spend time alone with you?"

"We can be alone here."

"With room service?"

"Delivery." I'd countered.

"Exotic locale." He'd thrown at me. Faith fielded that one.

"Like you'd leave the room." She'd snorted.

"I'll leave the room! It'll be January. We'll go someplace warm."

"You have a fireplace." I'd reminded him. "We can be warm at home."

"Why are you being so difficult?"

"Would you prefer complacency? Because I don't think I can pull that off."

"Just stop being so sensible. This is supposed to be fun."

I sat back, arms crossed and smiled at him. "I'm having fun."

He'd shaken his head, looked into his near-empty coffee cup, then over at Faith. "And I'm signing up for a lifetime of this."

"At least she lets you be you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"That last one," Faith said, barely hiding her disdain, "would have steamrolled you into submission. I did not like her. If you 'd married her you'd be a shell of a man right now."

"You think that? You thought that? And you didn't say anything?" He'd been incredulous.

"It was what you wanted."

"You were just going to stand by and watch me make that kind of mistake?"

"If you really think about it, you'll realize that I was planting little seeds of doubt the all along. Especially after you told me you found her." Faith nodded at me. "I just didn't think it would take so long to work its way through your thick skull." She gave a chuckle. "Boy, you really cut it close."

"Seeds of doubt. Since when do you notcome out and say something?"

"You had to figure it out yourself."

"And what if I hadn't?" He'd been really agitated.

"You would have."

"What if I didn't?"

"You did."

He'd slouched back, flicking his coffee cup repetitively, stewing over that.

I had wondered how that day had gone for him; the things he'd done, the words he'd chosen. But I'd never asked about it. That was his, it was separate. What a mess it all must have been. The flowers, the people, all the planning...

I'd exhaled quickly, feeling a sudden panic. I'd looked from Maurice to Faith and back again. "This is real, isn't it?"

"Give it a couple of months. You'll wish it was all a dream." That had earned Faith a glare.

"I just can't believe there will actuallybe a ring on that finger." She'd added and grabbed at Maurice's left ring finger and he pulled away.

"It's going to be a special ring." I'd said, "One with a sensor, armed with a warning system that verbally alerts any woman within ten feet to back off." That got him to smile a little.

He'd actually ended up with a plain gold band, but he'd never taken it off. Not for any reason.

The first time I'd removed my rings, he'd looked at me with alarm. "Why are your rings off?"

"Lotion makes them grimy."

"I'll never take mine off!"

"What is this - a competition? That makes you more married than me?" I'd asked.

In the end, we'd settled on small and simple for the wedding and I'd allowed him to take me to Puerto Rico for three days where we did, occasionally, leave the room.