Ned woke and scrubbed a palm over his face before he remembered. Then he smiled so wide that his cheeks hurt, even through the faint headache and the rotten spicy taste on his tongue, the marks of his hangover.

He couldn't remember what time it had been, when she had finally protested for the fifth time and insisted that she had to, had to go, and he had kissed her again, again, slow and lingering, just inside the door of his apartment. He'd startled when she'd let her sandals drop to the floor and wrapped her arms around him and kissed him one more time, just one more time, until their mouths were both sore and swelled and red and her eyes gleamed when they searched his.

"Okay, I really have to go."

He nodded. "You really have to go," he repeated, the tip of his nose pressed against hers, and his voice was slurred with exhaustion and the long-dissipated influence of the wine, but neither of them made a move.

"Yeah," she sighed, just before he kissed her again.

He went down in the elevator with her, and she held his hand as they waited for a cab to stop. The rain had stopped hours ago but the streets were still gleaming, and he couldn't tell if the rising sun or light pollution were turning the horizon pale.

She groaned when the cab stopped in front of them, echoing his own silent response. "Okay. I guess..."

"This is it," he nodded, turning to her, giving her one last kiss, soft and sweet. She was just opening his eyes when he pulled back, swaying gently in his arms.

Oh, I have her.

"I'll call you," she managed, stumbling over the words, and he caught her staring at his mouth, but she shook her head slightly and looked down when he opened the door of the cab, waiting for her to slide inside.

"I'll hold you to it."

She slipped her fingers from his, then cupped his cheek and returned his kiss. He knew he was grinning like an idiot when she pulled back, but he didn't care.

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight," she breathed, her fingers lingering against his skin before she slipped into the cab, and he had watched until only the cab's taillights were visible.

Now the sun was definitely up, turning his opaque curtains bright, and he gazed at the phone for a moment before he picked it up and dialed her number.

"Kent?" Bess answered.

"Sorry, this is Ned," he replied, lightly. "Nancy there?"

"Yeah... can I get her to give you a call back?"

"Sure," Ned said, mildly confused, but didn't question it. Bess sounded like she was on edge, and he didn't want anything to kill his mood. Not today. "I'll be home."

The bottle of wine was still on the counter. Ned made sure it was corked securely before he slipped it into the fridge, then looked around. Their abandoned water glasses on the low coffee table, and there, across one of his armchairs, her charcoal trenchcoat, still slightly damp between the folds.

He could still almost feel her on his skin, the taste of her kiss. The trenchcoat was smooth under his fingertips, and he picked it up and hung it on the book beside the door, wondering if she'd be back for it that evening.

Jenny.

Now she knew about Jenny. She didn't know everything, but she knew about Jenny, and that seemed almost as bad. Ned let his hand drift down the sleeve of Nancy's jacket, then walked back to his bedroom and found the box in his closet, the one crammed full of his high school memoirs, and dug through it until he saw the yearbook.

He put it back without opening it. Instead, he found the glove he'd used, the one his entire team had signed, a lifetime before. He pulled it over his hand and the black-marker signatures bent as he flexed his fingers. He couldn't remember the last time he'd thrown a baseball.

He caught himself checking his cell phone to make sure it was turned on, the battery was charged up, and the signal was strong every fifteen minutes, until he forced himself to go out for lunch. The rain had cleared the air, and across the street from his favorite diner, weekend fathers and dog owners were cluttering the park with frisbees and picnics.

She called, finally, when he was on his second beer, settled on the couch in front of the game. "I'm so sorry."

"Is everything okay?"

Nancy sighed heavily. "With me, yeah."

"Bess?"

"Is not doing so well."

"What's wrong?" Ned took another sip of his beer and settled back into the corner of the couch, resting his arm over the back.

"Kent. I'm not sure what it is yet, but Bess... I don't know if you've picked up on this at all, but Bess is just the smallest tiniest bit a drama queen."

Ned chuckled. "Surely not."

"Yeah, I know, she hides it well. Anyway, George and I have been watching chick flicks and mixing strawberry daiquiris and telling her that Kent is a jerk all day long, and I think I'm ready for a break."

He smiled. "Great. You know that park on South?"

"Yeah, I think I do."

"Meet me there."

Fifteen minutes later he was waiting for her, wearing his old glove, tossing a baseball lightly in his left hand. Nancy climbed out of a cab and onto the sidewalk, and as she approached he fought back the wide grin that was threatening to creep over his face, and the impulse to run to her, in the least dignified way possible, lift her into his arms and kiss her until she was breathless.

"Hey."

She was in a pair of loose jeans, frayed at the knees, a Cubs shirt that just managed to swallow her whole, her red-gold hair pulled back into a ponytail, but even so she approached him with her hips swinging, and he was already leaning down before he realized it, to meet the kiss she was standing on her toes to give him. "Hey," he breathed against her mouth, finally letting the smile widen into a grin.

"You know how long it took me to find this?" She held up a faded, well-seasoned glove. "And it isn't even mine, it's George's."

"Couldn't have taken you that long."

"Yeah, well. I'm probably going to suck at this," she said, but the sparkle in her eye told him otherwise. She linked her arm through his as they found a relatively unoccupied stretch of land between two trees, then backed apart.

"Bess doing any better?"

Ned tossed Nancy the ball, and she caught it, gazing down at it thoughtfully before she pounded it into her glove a few times, not looking at him. "A little, I guess."

"You don't sound too sure." He snatched the ball out of the air when she tossed it back, working his fingers in the still-stiff glove.

"How well do you know Kent?" Nancy glanced up at him, her mouth set.

Ned shrugged. "To be honest, I think I've seen more of him whenever I've been with you and Bess. We'd go out for drinks, but..." He laughed. "It's not like we were best friends or anything."

"Did you know any of his girlfriends before this?"

"Why are you asking me this?" Ned asked, tossing the ball back again.

Nancy shrugged. "Just a hunch," she murmured.

As the sun set they walked the blocks back to his apartment hand in hand, and when they were alone in the elevator car he wrapped his arms around her, backing her into the wall, and lowered his face to hers, kissing her against her relieved giggle. "I needed that," she said, when he pulled back.

"Yeah, I've heard I kiss pretty well."

"Pretty well?" She raised an eyebrow. "Don't flatter yourself, Nickerson. You kiss damn well."

He laughed as she grabbed his hand and led him out of the elevator, to his own door, which he backed her against. "You're not so bad yourself."

When they pulled apart again, she rested her forehead against his shoulder. "I just needed to get out of that apartment. I have a feeling that tomorrow... is gonna be rough."

"But not tonight," he promised, and unlocked the door. "Not tonight."