Frank sipped on his third cup of coffee, staring down at the paperback book in front of him. Unable to fall asleep after making love to Nicole the night before, he'd waited until he was certain she was sound asleep, then he'd slipped out of the bed and downstairs to his study, where he'd spent the next two hours reading Lenny's book. He'd found it worse than he had imagined. Lenny had included everything, with not one single detail left out.

He rubbed his fingers hard over his temples, his elbows on the table, then shoved the book away from him, toward the center of the table, annoyed the Lenny had felt the need to add so much private, personal stuff about them both. He removed his glasses long enough to rub his tired eyes, then turned as the floor creaked behind him.

"Oh. Morning, Pop. You're up early."

"I was about to say the same about you, Francis." Henry tightened the belt of his red and black plaid flannel robe as he shuffled over to the coffee maker next to the kitchen sink. Lifting the carafe up and examining the contents of it, he said, "Looks like you've been up for a while." He reached into the cabinet above, pulled out his favorite mug. After pouring himself a cup of the coffee, he pulled out the chair across the table from Frank, and took a seat.

"What's this?" He reached for the paperback, pulled it toward him, flipped it around. "Back in the Day? Lenny Ross? As in your old friend and partner Lenny?"

"Yep. That's the one. He's in town for a couple of days. A few of us old buddies got together for drinks last night. And he hit us with that. You know all those stories he loves to repeat about our good ole days?"

"Yeah…?"

"Well, they're all in there, every... last... detail." Frank pointed to the book as he spoke.

Henry frowned as he opened the book, began to thumb through it. "Oh my. That can't be good."

"No. Trust me, it isn't."

"So that's what had you up in the middle of the night. How bad is it?"

"Bad enough."

"Does Nicole know about it?"

Frank shook his head yes as he took a sip of his coffee. "I told her about it when I got home."

"What'd she say?"

"You know Nicole, Pop. She wanted to start reading it right away. I had a hard time keeping her from it."

"I bet she did. So how did you prevent it?"

Frank tilted his head from side to side. "Let's just say I managed to distract her."

"Aww….I see." Henry's eyebrows raised as his mouth curved into a smile. "Good thinking, Francis."

Frank smiled to himself as he finished his coffee, recalling that it hadn't been his head in control at the time.

He stood, pushed his chair in, placed his empty cup in the sink. "Guess I'll be on my way." Grabbing his overcoat from the coat rack next to the back door, he slipped it on. Pulling gloves from the pocket of it, he added, "I have a feeling it's going to be a long day. I'm hoping the sooner I get it started, the sooner it will be over." He reached for the book. "Not sure who I dread more reading this — Nicole or Garrett. And if I don't get out of here with it before Nicole wakes and makes her way down, I'll have a hard time keeping it from her this time. I want to be around when she reads it. I think..."

"Are the stories in the book really that bad?"

"Well, there's no tales of us murdering anyone, nothing exactly illegal, no drugs. But we were young, single, active men — if you know what I mean, with a badge and a uniform. We took advantage of that uniform at times, for our own personal gain. Free meals...women...whatever."

"Don't be so hard on yourself, Francis. Every cop is guilty of using the uniform at least once for his own benefit."

"Not every cop, Pop," Frank replied as he opened the door to leave. "You never did."

Henry lifted his cup to his lips. "Don't be too sure of that," he mumbled.

"I heard that. And I don't believe a word of it."

Frank could hear Henry's chuckle as he stepped out into the dark, cold winter morning. He closed the door behind him, turned up the collar of his overcoat, and headed to the SUV waiting for him.

"Morning, sir. It's a cold one, isn't it," greeted a member of his detail. The man rubbed his gloved hands together before opening the door for Frank.

"Yes, it is," Frank replied as he climbed in. "But I expect things to heat up real fast."

Frank entered the kitchen after a long day at the office, cold, tired, and hungry. "Smells good in here," he said as he removed his gloves and overcoat. "Whatcha got cooking, Pop?"

"Homemade beef stew," Henry replied, throwing a dish towel over his shoulder after drying the last of the utensils he'd used in the preparation of tonight's dinner.

"Hope it tastes as good as it smells. Did you use Mom's special recipe?"

"Of course I did. Wouldn't make it any other way."

Frank flashed a smile at his dad. After hanging up his coat, he retrieved a glass and a bottle of scotch from the cabinet.

"Where's Nicole?"

"She left already."

"Left? Where was she going?"

Henry gave him a puzzled look. "Didn't she tell you? She was meeting Erin and Linda for dinner and a movie. Some chick-flick, I think."

Frank rolled his eyes. "She did tell me. She called this afternoon. Guess I forgot."

"That kinda day?"

"Yeah."

"I take it Garrett didn't take the news of Lenny's book well."

Frank leaned back against the counter, took a sip of his drink. "That's an understatement. He went ballistic. Insists we make sure it doesn't get released as written, even if we have to sue to keep it from happening."

"How about you? Do you agree with that?"

"I certainly don't want it released as written, but I don't want to have to sue, either. Lenny's a good friend. I'd like him to stay that way."

"Well, you got Garrett's reaction, now you just have to worry about Nicole's. Think hers will be the same?"

"No, I don't think so. She'll be surprised by some of it, but not horribly shocked, I don't think. Nicole's not naive." Frank let out a chuckle. "When we first met and started spending time together, she was constantly trying to get me to lighten up, loosen my tie." He smiled to himself as he recalled her exact words the night of their first "real" date, their first night together.

...lose the damn tie, Frank!

The smile faded as he continued. "There's personal stuff in the book...between me and Mary, when we first met and started dating. Things we did, how I felt about her. Things I haven't shared with Nicole. Things I'd rather her hear from me, rather than reading them in a book written by someone else."

"So...what, Francis? Are you worried Nicole will feel threatened by that?"

"No, I'm not worried about that at all. Nicole knows I love her. It's just...well...I can't help but put myself in her shoes. How I'd feel."

"What do you mean?"

"Well...say Sybil wrote a book—"

"Now that's a book I'd want to read!" Henry replied, his face lighting up. "I bet that woman has some "back in the day" stories to tell."

"Yeah, well, that's kinda the point I'm trying to make. What if she did write such a book, and in it she added personal details concerning Nicole and Daniel's love life? I wouldn't want to sit and read it. And I wouldn't want everyone else I know reading it either. I mean, I know she loved him, that they had a close, special marriage, just as Mary and I did, I just—"

"Don't need to know all the intimate details of it."

"Exactly."

"So, Francis, what about you? Reading that stuff about you and Mary had to have brought up a lot of memories, and emotions for you. Nicole's gonna know that."

"Well, sure it did, Pop. But it doesn't change anything about my feelings for Nicole. I can't imagine my life without her in it. She knows that, too." Frank finished his drink. "Man, that stew smells good." He walked over to the stove, raised the lid of the stewpot, inhaled.

"There's cornbread in the oven to go with it," Henry said.

"Perfect dinner for a cold night." After stirring the stew, Frank helped himself to a sample taste of it. "That's good." As he stirred some more, he said, "Hey, Pop, how about the two of us going to see a movie after dinner tonight. Didn't that new Benghazi movie open today? I kinda want to see that."

"Sorry, son, but you're on your own tonight. I have a date with Lillian."

"A date?"

"Yes, a date!"

"So you two hit it off pretty well New Year's Eve, huh?"

"You could say that."

"That's nice, Pop. I'm glad for you. So maybe I'll give Jamie a call, see if he wants to see a movie with his old man."

"You can call him, but I wouldn't expect him to be sitting around waiting on a call from his dad on a Friday night."

Frank sighed. "No, probably not. Think he's seeing anyone special?"

"Well, I would think you would know that better than me, but no one I'm aware of."

"He doesn't share that stuff with me. He'd be more likely to share it with Erin, or even Nicole."

Henry glanced up at the clock on the wall. "Sorry to cut this conversation short, but Lillian's picking me up in twenty minutes. I've got to go freshen up before she arrives."

"You mean you're not even going to eat some of this delicious stew with me?"

"Sorry, Francis, but why would I want to sit across the kitchen table with you, when I can enjoy a nice dinner with a beautiful woman?"

"No reason I can think of."

Frank turned his attention back to the pot of stew on the stove, sampling it once more.

"Isn't one of the advantages of being married not having to spend Friday night home alone?"

He turned around, only to realize he was alone in the room.

He pulled his cell phone from his pocket to call Jamie. But before calling his son, he called his wife. He missed her, wanted to hear her voice, and to tell her that he loved her.