Uhm… He paused. Is this a trick question?

Kat laughed. I just thought I'd point out that we raced in here to the bedroom, ripped each other's clothes off like wild animals in heat, and what did we end up doing?

Riley smiled. Talking.

She nodded. Talking and snuggling.

Kat was right. So what do you think that means?

She bit her lip and gave it some thought. I believe it means we've done things backward. It means we have a lot to hash out between us, a lot to understand about each other, and a lot to forgive before another night like Cherry Hill.

Riley studied her face, beautiful, strong, and together all at the same time. He laughed softly. I have to say, as much as I'd like to have a Cherry Hill moment right here, right now, you're absolutely right.

Kat's eyes sparkled with pleasure. I'm glad you agree, because I don't ever want to be left alone in the morning like that again, not knowing where things stand with us or what you're thinking or feeling, just sitting there holding one of your socks, not sure if I'm a complete moron or the luckiest girl on earth.

Riley let go with a raucous laugh and began to wrestle with her. So you stole my sock! he shouted. Admit it, woman! Admit it, I say!

They rolled around on the bed, laughing and kissing, until they rolled right off the edge and landed with a loud thud on the wood floor. They laughed even harder.

Riley suddenly cocked his head in alarm. He heard a loud banging sound that sounded like it was coming from the ceiling above them.

What the hell is that? he asked. Riley rolled Kat to the side to protect her. Do you hear it? The thumping started again.

That's Mrs. Brownstein, Kat said, sputtering out a laugh. She's just jealous.

Riley nodded. Looks like now would be a good time to get a place with a little more privacy.

Did I tell you I'm fixing up Phyllis' old row house? Kat pushed herself up from the floor and offered her hand to Riley, the blanket draped over her shoulders like a queen's floor-length cape. It will be a few more months until it's ready, she said, pulling him to a stand.

Then come back to Persuasion.

The words had burst out of Riley's mouth before he even knew they'd formed in his brain, and the idea filled him with excited energy. Come home, Kat. Aidan can visit whenever he likes. Come back and stay for a while; see how it feels to have me in your life, rub my face in your awesomeness, get to know me all over again. Would you do it?

Kat stared at him wide-eyed.

I promise to give you all the time and space you need. But I'd be right there in town. We could see each other every once in a while. Have dinner. Hang out. No more Cherry Hills until we're both sure it's right.

She shook her head and took a step back. I don't know.

Why not? Is it Virgil?

Kat hissed. That old fart doesn't scare me anymore. In fact, one day I have every intention of marching right up to him and telling him everything I remember about my childhood, what he did to my mom and me, how we didn't deserve any of it. It might be therapeutic.

Riley dared to take this further. You could register for classes at Mountain Laurel if you felt like it.

Kat's eyes flashed.

We could get to know each other like real adult people in a real adult relationship.

A smile slowly spread over Kat's lips. I'd want my own little place.

There's always houses to rent near campus.

Kat walked back toward Riley with a regal gait, swinging her cape along the side of her nude flesh, all glorious, round, and firm /femaleness/.

It was a vision he'd never forget.

She popped up on her tiptoes and locked her gaze on his.

I am willing to try if you are, she said. But you have to promise me a couple things.

You name it.

I want honesty.

You got it.

I want you to swear that if and when you want to break up with me, you'll find a better way to do it than the last time.

The knife went right into Riley's heart. I swear. And will you promise me something?

Sure.

Don't run away again, like you did twenty years ago and then again two weeks ago, because I'm man enough to admit that it scares the hell out of me to love a woman who has a habit of disappearing on me.

Kat plopped down on the balls of her feet, suddenly serious. I thought you were engaged.

I realize that. But humor me.

Sure. I promise I won't run away again.

And promise me you'll tell me should you ever again be pregnant with my child.

A sly little smile played on Kat's lips. She snaked her arm around the back of Riley's head and slid her fingers through his hair, pulling him down until his mouth was on hers. Kat kissed him hard and long.

It was a seal. It was a start.

Virgil rubbed his chin and frowned. You sure look familiar for some reason.

You recognize me from television, no doubt. Carrie smoothed her hair, waiting for it to dawn on him.

Virgil busted out with a hoot of laughter. That's it! You're that self-righteous she-devil who gets on TV and tells people to eat right, exercise, and avoid smoking.

Carrie beamed. That would be me.

All right then, Virgil said, apparently satisfied. Now what the hell did you want?

Carrie was intrigued by her surroundingsand thrown a bit off-balance by the wiry, annoyed man who clearly ruled this strange kingdom. She stood next to Mr. Cavanaugh in a standard 1950s one-car garage that served as his studio. The walls were unfinished wood plank; the ceiling was bare wood beams with shelves built into the eaves. She could see where the garage door had been closed up many years before, the wood there a different grain and color, and how most of the entire back wall had been fitted with a picture window to let in the natural light. But it was twilight now, and the area seemed closed in. The shadows were stark.

Ghostly shapes of what looked like unfinished sculptures seemed to sprout out of the concrete floor, surrounded by shapeless hunks of rock not yet touched by the artist.

Sharp tools similar to surgical instruments were scattered haphazardly on top of sketchbooks, tables, and the floor, along with heavy mallets and drill bits. Wooden stands had been tipped over on their sides, and a strange, thin stainless-steel contraption sat near the center of the room, arms askew. She took a step back. It reminded her of a huge praying mantis.

She shuddered.

Mr. Cavanaugh chuckled. It's a pointing machine, honey. It's not going to bite you.

A what?

It measures points three-dimensionally on a sculpture.

Stepping with caution, Carrie moved toward a plywood table and placed her business card on the edge, then reached above for the light fixture chain and pulled it. The sudden brightness didn't cheer the roomit only illuminated the mess.

I didn't say you could turn on a light.

She refused to acknowledge Mr. Cavanaugh's rudeness. No one spoke to her like this. She would not allow it under any circumstances. She was a physician. She was beautiful. She was entrusted with developing policy that impacted thousands of lives. Carrie turned to face him. I'm sorry, but I'm not familiar with your work. What kind of sculpture do you do, Mr. Cavanaugh?

He grunted. Whatever the hell I feel like doing. I'll ask you one more time: What do you want? Why did you mention my daughter?

Ah. Well. Carrie looked for somewhere to sit. There was nowhere, except for a rusty, clay-splattered metal stool that he obviously used when he worked, and it looked as uncomfortable as this whole place felt. She folded her hands in front of her body and tried to smile politely. It's about Kat and Riley Bohland.

The old man stared at her without breathing. Slowly, his lips curled into a grimace and he shook his head. Whatever you're fishing for, you won't find it here. I don't talk to Kat. Haven't in twenty years.