It was already after 10:30 when Martha quietly arrived at the loft. She put the newspaper on the counter and glanced at Rick's bedroom door. Closed. She stood in place for several moments and heard what she believed was some pleasurable moaning from her son, then silence, then some girlish giggling. Seconds later, Alexis came in. Martha whirled around and put her finger to her lips, then pointed to Rick's door.
"Is she here?" Alexis stage-whispered, a wide smile on her face.
"Yes, I think so. I just got in myself. Let's go upstairs. They seem to be busy at the moment."
#####
"Mmm, you're quite the talent, Detective," Rick said a few minutes later as Kate reached for some tissues on the night table. She wiped some of the sticky liquid from his belly.
"My pleasure," she said, grabbing his lips with hers, nipping them gently. "When I worked vice, some of the streetwalkers I arrested would tell me about the techniques they used on their Johns, thinking that I'd let them off easy."
"And did you?"
"You know me better than that, Castle. But I did learn some things."
"And I'm so grateful." He kissed her, then slid his lips down her neck, listening to her breath catch in her throat. "Mmm, I'm also hungry. I'll make breakfast," he said.
"OK," Kate replied. "I think I left my clothes in the living room." Still wearing Martha's necklace and nothing else, she opened the bedroom door and craned her neck to see where she left her Bloomingdale's shopping bag. She spotted it behind the couch and walked over to retrieve it.
"Kate, that necklace looks good on you no matter how casual you're dressed," Martha said from the kitchen.
"Whaaaaa . . . !" Kate yelled out as she vaulted over the sofa. She peeked over the back. "Oh, Martha . . . you're . . . home. I didn't hear you come in," she called out, her body pressed into the sofa cushions.
"I came in a while ago. I've been upstairs. But I've been desperate for coffee, so . . ." She gestured toward the coffeemaker. "Alexis is in her room. She just got in, too. How was your evening?"
"Uh . . . Rick, a little help, please!" Kate called to him, but he was already in the doorway, gazing at Kate's bare butt sticking up from her crouch. He turned to his mother, then Kate, and let out a long, hearty laugh that he tried to stifle but couldn't.
"Rick, laugh later. My clothes, please." She put her face into the cushions as her whole body finally shook with giggles.
"Here, take my robe," said Rick, who by now was wearing pajama bottoms and a T-shirt. Still laughing, he stood in front of her, slipped off the robe, and put it over Kate, a small smile on her face.
"Can you die from embarrassment?" she said, standing up and burying her head in Rick's chest. They both turned to face his mother.
"Darling," Martha said, smiling, "remind me to tell you the time I first played in Hair."
Finally clothed in Rick's robe, Kate walked toward Martha, extending her arms and grabbing her in a hug. "I can't thank you enough. You were so generous to help give me such a wonderful day and evening." She undid the clasp of the necklace and handed it to Martha.
"Well, after Richard told me what had happened Friday night, I was more than happy to aid the course of true love."
"Wait, don't start without me, Kate," cried Alexis as she sprinted down the stairs. "I want to hear everything!" She crashed into Kate and squeezed her tight.
"I have so much to tell you," Kate said, beaming like a bright star.
"What was the highlight?" Alexis asked.
Kate glanced at Rick, who was taking butter and eggs from the refrigerator, to see if he was listening. "Dancing with Baryshnikov."
"Whaa? Come on," Rick yelled, a grin on his face as his mother and daughter belly-laughed. "He's vertically challenged, I'll have you know."
"Then you've never seen his leaps, kiddo," Martha said.
Martha and Alexis gathered around Kate at the table, listening as she described her day. Rick brought the fresh coffee to the table, filling a mug for each of them, then for himself. He went back to the counter, setting up the griddle, breaking some eggs in a mixing bowl, measuring the flour for pancakes. He gazed over at them and realized that the three people he loved the most deeply were right in front of him.
#####
After Rick's breakfast of eggs and blueberry pancakes, Kate, Rick, and Alexis cleared the table as Martha finished her coffee. She spotted The New York Ledger on the counter. "Let's see if anyone I know got into trouble last night," she said, reaching for the newspaper and turning to the gossip in the Page Six section. Mixed in with two-column photos of Sarah Jessica Parker, Natalie Portman, Lesley Stahl, and other ballet-goers was
a one-column photo of a handsome couple—Rick and Kate, on the red carpet.
"Oh, look at this," said Martha, holding up the paper.
Rick looked at Martha, then at Kate.
"What is it?" she asked, walking to the table. As Kate looked over Martha's shoulder, her eyes landed on the photo. "Oh," she said, her smile fading slightly. "Maybe I am in trouble."
"Nonsense, darling. That's just my big mouth talking. You and Rick look stunning together. Very classy."
Rick continued to wipe a spatula dry as he made his way to them. "Hey, we do look pretty good, don't we." He watched Kate as she silently scanned all the photos for several seconds. She kept going back to the one of her and Rick.
"I wonder if there are more online," she said, her eyes still focused on the pictures.
"I can check," said Alexis. She flipped open her laptop on the counter and made a few keystrokes. "Here's the Ledger's Web page. There's more. Kate, that dress is gorgeous," she said, turning the laptop so Kate and Rick could see. "You both look so happy."
Kate sat on one of the stools as Rick stood behind her, his hand on her back. There were two more photos of them: another one on the red carpet and one of them dancing, both of them smiling at each other.
Alexis clicked on the text box. "Here's the caption: 'Mystery novelist Richard Castle and his current muse, Detective Kate Beckett of the NYPD, have eyes only for each other at the New York City Ballet Gala Saturday night. Wonder if they've worked 'undercover' yet?'"
"Well, that's almost charitable compared with some of the things they've written about you," Martha said. "Remember when they had you engaged to Paris Hilton—and you'd never even met her."
"Yes," Rick said. "But right now I don't particularly like the use of the words 'current muse.' Makes it seem as if I have others waiting in the wings—which I do not." He looked at Kate, waiting for her to respond. He slid his hand up to her neck and brought his lips to her cheek, then to her ear and whispered, "I love you."
Kate looked at him and grinned.
"I hope you're OK with this," he said, trying to tease out a word or two from her.
"Well, I knew this was coming," she said. She was quiet for a moment, then said, "How can I work undercover now? Everyone knows what I look like."
"You know, you've been the focus of publicity before, with Nikki Heat," Rick reminded her. "And more than likely, the people who commit murder are not big ballet fans. Hey, you can always wear a disguise," Rick said, wrapping his arms around her from behind. "Besides, when we go out, there'll be no cameras, Kate. Last night was a special event."
"It's not just the undercover work. I feel . . . I don't know . . . cornered. How will this affect the way I do my job?"
Rick kissed her neck. "It's one night, Kate. Please don't worry."
Kate turned around and put her hands around his shoulders. "I'll try," she said, placing her cheek against his, feeling his warmth but also a nagging sensation inside her. "I'm going to shower now." She took the shopping bag of her clothes into Rick's room and closed the door.
Rick looked at his mother. "Are we done before we even start?"
"I don't think so," Martha replied. "She needs to sort this out. Give her some time, Richard. It's old to you, but new to her."
He finished loading the dishwasher, then walked to his bedroom and opened the door. Kate was already changing into her street clothes. "Hey, you showered so quickly? I thought I could join you," he said as he reached for her.
"I didn't shower, actually." She sidestepped his hand, bending down to pick up some of her evening garments. "All my toiletries are home, so . . ." She stopped and looked down at the dress, still on the floor where she left it. "I . . ."
He glanced at the floor. "I'll get the dress to you. Kate, don't do this. Don't shut down on me, please. If you're upset, let's talk. We can work through it."
She stepped toward him, then froze in place. Her heart felt caught in a vise. "I have to go home, tend to things. Maybe go to the precinct."
The light in Rick's face went out. "I thought we could spend the day together—"
"No . . . maybe. I don't know." She fought tears from coming.
"Can I call you later? We can have dinner, nothing fancy. The most out-of-the-way Chinese place, a well-kept secret. Or we'll order takeout or—"
"OK . . . maybe . . . um." She stepped quickly to him and kissed him lightly on the lips before he could grab her. She turned and left his bedroom.
Rick sank on his bed, head in his hands, and took a deep breath. He knew the life he led was filled with inconveniences of a public nature, and he chose to approach those with good humor and grace. But he also knew that those same inconveniences made Kate feel out of control, uncomfortable, especially given her profession.
"Richard, can I come in?" his mother called.
"Yes," he replied.
"Are you OK?" she asked as she entered.
"I'm worried about her. Did she say anything to you and Alexis?"
"She hugged us, thanked us for everything again. Said she's see us soon."
"Well, that's a good sign."
Martha sat on the bed next to her son. "Maybe we rushed her into a public setting too quickly. She's a private person, more so than many."
"Given her job, though, you can see why."
"Yes. Some compromise may be in order."
Rick sighed deeply. "The gala was a once-in-a-lifetime spectacle."
"It's a once-a-year thing, Richard. And that's the point. You may need to compromise. She may not be willing to attend public events like that on a regular basis. You may need to be more discreet, a bit more cautious, at least in attending big gatherings."
"I don't do cautious well, Mother, you know that. She mentioned last night that she needs to develop a thicker skin. I hope she can."
"For this woman, you may still have to compromise. You love her, don't you?"
"Like no other. It's strange, Mother. I want to be with her every minute, and yet I feel so free."
Martha squeezed her son's arm. "That's the best kind of love, I think. If you feel that way, Richard, try to meet her halfway. She'll do it for you at some point. I'm sure of it."
"I'll try my best, if that's what she wants."
#####
After stopping home to shower and check the mail, Kate took the subway to the precinct. She had hoped the noise of the train would distract her, crowd out her thoughts. But no luck. She kept seeing the photos in her head. They made her anxious, invaded her privacy. If she continued to see Rick, she would feel every eye in New York cast upon her, judging her, getting in the way of her work, which she loved. After her mother's death, it gave her strength and purpose to move forward.
But Rick . . . Rick made her whole—filled in all the cracks in her heart. Brought her light, fun, passion. She frowned and thought, How can this work?
When she reached her subway stop and walked up the stairs to the street, she glanced at her phone and noticed that two text messages had come in while she was underground.
Where R U?
Then, Can we talk? My heart hurts.
Her chest squeezed tight. She didn't know how to respond to him. She erased the messages and entered the precinct door.
######
When the elevator doors opened to her floor, Kate walked first to the break room to start the coffee machine. But it was already on and brewing some espresso. She looked around and saw a light coming from Captain Montgomery's office. "Captain, your espresso is ready," Kate called. "How do you take it?"
"Detective Beckett, is that you?" the Captain answered from his desk. "Two sugars, please."
Kate added his sugar, then poured a cup of regular coffee for herself. She brought both cups into his office. "What are you doing here on Sunday?" she asked, placing the espresso on his desk.
"Well, the wife and kids went to see my in-laws for the weekend. They'll be back
late tonight. And you?"
"Thought I could catch up on some paperwork. The usual." She looked at him quickly, then shifted her eyes away.
He noticed. "Oh. I thought maybe you came here to hide."
"Hide?" she said, her voice rising. "Hide from what?" She pressed her lips together.
"I read Page Six, too, you know. Are you and Castle dating now?"
She shifted her feet. "Dating?" In her pocket, she could feel her phone vibrating. "Uhh . . . I don't know whether you could officially call it that."
"Well, I officially say it's about damn time."
"What? Sir, I don't . . . It's so complicated. I—"
"What's complicated? I swear, you young people overanalyze everything. Do you love him?"
She was taken aback by the question, especially from the Captain. Telling Rick that she loved him was one thing, but saying it out loud to someone else, especially her supervisor, exposed it as a truth she could no longer deny.
"Sir, the situation has nothing to do with how I feel about him. It has everything to do with how I do my job. The publicity that surrounds him . . . when I'm out with him . . . It puts me in a compromising position and . . ."
"Kate, sit down," he said as he gestured toward an empty chair. Montgomery sat back in his seat and gazed at her gently. "I know you guard your privacy. But falling in love with Rick Castle has nothing to do with your working life. The bad guys aren't going to care one way or the other who you're dating and where you go."
"I'm not concerned about them, sir. They don't read Page Six." She threaded her hand through her hair. "I'm worried about the victims' families. If they see me at some frivolous function arm in arm with Castle in the newspaper one day, and then I'm interviewing them about some evidence the next—what does that say? Where's my credibility?"
"Kate, in all honesty, the only people you need to be concerned about are those that work for the NYPD—your team members, your supervisor, and the top brass. Look, during your time here, you've shown enormous capability and the highest devotion to your job, to your team, to the victims and their families. No one can question your reputation and your professionalism."
Kate curled forward, her arms resting on her legs, hands clasped tightly. "I don't know, sir. I think I'm in dangerous territory here—blurring the lines between personal and professional."
The Captain paused for a moment, then said, "You know, I have tremendous admiration for Hillary Clinton."
"Hillary Clinton, sir?" Why is he bringing up politics?
"Yes. And I'll tell you why. She went through the hell of humiliation with that jackass of a husband. As First Lady, she held her head high, did her job in the most gracious way, despite all the things the media was throwing at her. And look at her now—secretary of state. Whether or not you agree with her politics, you have to admit she kept her dignity intact. And one of the ways she did that was by working hard. No one can question her ability. Now I'm not sure whether this is an accurate analogy of your situation. But we all know your abilities are top notch, Kate. As long as you continue to demonstrate that, so what if you're photographed at the ballet or the Guggenheim or the Hamptons? Your personal life is just that—personal."
Kate sat back in the chair, turning over Montgomery's words in her mind as if they were small stones, examining them. She heard and felt her phone vibrate again, breaking her thoughts. "I do love him, yes," she said, answering the Captain's question. "For so long, I've felt so little. Now . . . my feelings for him . . . It's almost overwhelming how things have changed . . . because of him."
"Don't let that go, Kate."
"But I don't want to compromise my work," she whispered.
"You won't. Your ability, your good judgment will help you rise above any doubts that anyone has," he said, smiling at her. "You've earned our respect, Kate. Nothing will change that."
Her eyes filmed with tears that she tried to blink back. "Thank you, Captain. I've worked so hard over the years to earn that respect."
"I know. And you won't lose it. Now, answer that phone. It's Sunday. Go and have fun. Tomorrow comes soon enough."
As the elevator door opened to the precinct's first floor, she read two more text messages:
Are we OK?
And Dinner in Chinatown? You can wear a burqa.
She laughed out loud, then typed: Yes 2 us. No 2 the burqa. Yes 2 Chinatown. Joe's Shanghai on Mott now?
Rick replied in an instant: CAN'T WAIT.
#####
He was already standing near the restaurant when Kate turned the corner. The "Yes 2 us" message gave Rick hope, but he couldn't control the nervous flutter in his heart. What can I say to ease her fears? he wondered as she walked toward him. Finally, they stood face to face.
"I'm sorry," he blurted out, trying to keep his hands off her.
"Me, too. Wait. What are you sorry for?"
"For rushing you into my absurd world of public display," he said, shaking his head.
She brought her hands to his cheeks and kissed him, touching his tongue lightly with hers.
He pulled her body close and deepened the kiss. "It's broad daylight. People are nearby, and I have no doubt that some of them have camera phones," he whispered in her ear. "Do you know what you're doing?"
"Yes, I think so."
"Believe me, I'm thrilled to hear it. But I'm a bit confused. The kiss in public at the Empire State Building was pre-paparazzi. The kiss just now—which warmed my heart and other body parts, by the way—is post-Ledger. What changed?"
"Well, I realize that I've worked hard at my job. By doing that, I think I've earned the right to be happy. And I'm most happy when I'm with you, Rick, no matter where we are and who sees us."
He sighed. "That's the best news I've heard since Friday," Rick said, taking her hands. "I'll try hard to be more discreet about where we go and what we do in public." He smiled and smoothed her hair. "You must have given this a lot of thought over the past few hours."
"Yes, with thanks to Captain Montgomery . . . and Hillary Clinton," she said, laughing.
"Huh?" Rick's eyes widened. "I didn't know you had the secretary of state on speed dial. You can tell me all about it over dim sum," he said as they walked down the street hand in hand.