That Saturday night, I was putting on my prettiest little dress and finishing my long hair curled into big loose curls with a little hairspray. My phone vibrated, notifying me that I was late, per usual. I grabbed my coat and handbag as I flew out the door. I hailed a cab and asked the cabbie for Founding Fathers, the great restaurant Seeley had asked me to.

"Quickly," rushed the fat, balding cabbie, "I'm late for a first date." The cab lurched forward, bobbing and weaving through the thick, jungle-like DC traffic. I leapt out of the cab as it hit the curb, throwing hopefully enough money at the cabbie. "Thanks," I called as I sprinted through the door. I hurried into the restaurant and saw Seeley at a table in the back, playing on his phone and nursing a scotch on the rocks.

"Hi," I said as I sat down, my cheeks rosy from the cool autumn evening. I was only five minutes late. I slid my jacket onto the chair and put my bag between my feet.

"Hi," he said with a smile. "Have you been here before?"

"Only all the time," I said with a laugh as I flagged down the bartender for a glass of wine. He rolled his scotch in his glass as he struggled for something to say. I relieved him.

"Any murders go behind bars today?" he chuckled lightly.

"Not today. I spent the day with my…um…my son, Parker." He seemed embarrassed, why? Because he had a kid?

"That's awesome! How old is he?"

"Eight. I get him some weekends and usually Christmas eve and day."

"That's great." I wanted to know if Parker's mother had once been a Mrs. Booth or if it had never gotten that far. He answered without me having to ask.

"Rebecca wouldn't marry me. I asked her when she was pregnant with Parker."

"Well, she was silly not to take you up on that. You seem like a really great guy." I smiled at him and dropped my hand on his comfortingly. Was he damaged goods? Was he broken?

"Write anything today?" he asked me, changing the topic to work. His expression lightened as he leaned in, his head on his hand, interested.

"Yep. Another chapter done. That's why I was late. Sorry, really, I know it's not the best first-date impression. I lost track of time and suddenly it was seven thirty… I'm sorry."

"It's okay, no problem, really. I want to hear what you're writing about." His smile was contagious. We stayed in the bar until almost midnight, when I checked the time and remembered.

"Oh my gosh, I have to go," I said with a self-conscious laugh. What was I going to say when he asked why? Most guys don't like girls in their twenties devoted to religion. They think you're like a holy-roller prudeasaurus. Like 'don't kiss me until we're married!' Yeah, okay. Sayonara. I'm just careful, that's all. And when they hear 'Catholic' they think of their grandparents. Oh gosh. Here we go. It's like well, hello there, then you pull out the Jesus thing and they make a B-Line for the door.

"It's almost midnight, I have to go, I have to get up early tomorrow."

"On a Sunday morning? What for?" he was honestly curious. Heck, maybe he did the whole Sunday mass thing too.

"I have nine thirty mass."

"Really? What are you?" he was referring to religion. I mean, there's no easy way to ask that question.

"Roman Catholic," I said, flinching. Here we go.

"Really? Me too!"

"Well, it's a plan. Nine thirty. You had better sit with me, Seeley Booth," I said laughing.

"I have Parker…"

"That's okay. We'll get breakfast at the diner and make an event of it." I smiled, liking the idea. Jay, my dear, you are a genius.

"That sounds great. Parker loves the diner."

"Wonderful. I'll need his blessing if this is going to work. I can't have your son hating me," we both laughed.

"I doubt he'd hate you. I think you're pretty fantastic." I blushed crimson.

"Well, I'll see you there." I stood and shrugged on my jacket. Seeley stood and grabbed my bag off the floor and handed it to me. When he stood at his full height, what seemed to be about six-one, I place my hand on his cheek and kissed his other lightly.

"Thank you so much," I said looking at him from under my side bangs and eyelashes heavy with mascara, "I had a really great time tonight." I pulled my wallet out of my bag, about to drop enough cash to cover my two glasses of wine on the table.

"No, no," he said, being the perfect gentleman, "I've got it." He handed the money back to me.

I smiled coyly at him again and said, "thank you, again, I'll see you tomorrow morning."

"Bye," he spoke softly, reluctantly. I went outside, hailed a cab, and gave the cabbie my address. Suddenly, my door was open, Seeley's face mere inches from mine.

"I couldn't let you go, do you want to come back to my place?" I looked at him with sad eyes.

"With Parker? And then get up and do the walk of shame to mass? I'm sorry, Seeley, but I'm not one of those girls. It's too soon. I'll see you tomorrow morning, okay? Then breakfast? My meter's running, I've got to go."

"Okay," he conceded, "just, one more thing…" his hand was warm and soft against my face. He bent lower, leaned in…his lips brushed mine first and my eyes fluttered closed. His lips touched mine again and pressed, kissing me. My heart leapt through my chest. He broke it too soon for my taste; I could have gone all night. "I'll see you tomorrow," he said, almost breathless.

"Bye," I said the same way, my breath gone with him. He closed the door and the cabbie pulled away from him. He stood there and watched with a sweet little smile on his face. As he was about to disappear, I saw him start towards the back parking lot, then he was gone. Now he would go home, pay his babysitter, kiss parker goodnight before tucking himself in, saying his Our Fathers, Hail Marys, and Glory Bes. I would go home, brush my teeth, have a glass of water and recite the same prayers. I'd fall asleep to a sickeningly appropriate playlist of Taylor Swift and the like, saying how glorious the world must be to have love in it. Now I don't know if this is love, but it sure is a promising start.

That was the most spectacular touch I have ever experienced. His warm, sweet, brown eyes, getting closer to my blue, then slowly fluttering shut just before his warm, soft lips brushed mine. He tasted like scotch. And I was surely drunk off his touch.