in let the restaurant door bang behind her and crossed the sidewalk, blind with the need to save herself. She stepped off the curb and a horn blared and somebody yanked her back from the street, and she turned and barged into Cal.

“I’m sorry,” he said, holding on to her. “Whatever it was that I did—”

“You’re going to hurt me,” she said, breathless.

“What?” he said, looking appalled. “No. I’d never—”

“You’re going to break my heart,” Min said, taking a breath like a sob. “I’m going to love you, and you’re going to leave, you always do, it’s what you do, and I don’t think I can get over you, if I ever let go and love you, I think it’ll be forever because it’s so deep, it already hurts just the little bit I let myself—”

“Min, I’d never hurt you,” Cal said.

“Not on purpose,” Min said. “But you have the right to leave. You’ve never promised me you’d stay. That’s the way it always is. You’re wonderful, you know us, and we love you, and you leave. I can’t do that. I could tell myself that David was an idiot who didn’t know me, but you know me.”

“Min, wait,” Cal said, trying to put his arms around her.

“No,” Min said, slipping away. “Nobody in my life has ever known me the way you do. Nobody in my life has ever made me feel as good as you do. You know me, you know everything about me, and when you leave me, you’re going to be leaving the real me, the me nobody else has ever seen, that’s who you’re going to be rejecting.”

“What makes you so sure I’m going to leave you?” Cal said, his voice sharp.

“Because that’s what you do. You always leave. Are you going to promise me right now that you’ll stay forever?”

“I’ve known you three weeks,” Cal said. “That’d be a little impulsive, don’t you think?”

“Yes,” Min said. “So why the full court press? Why the perfect shoes and the perfect song and...” She shook her head, helpless. “I told you we should start as friends, I told you—”

“You want more than friends,” Cal said flatly. “That’s the dumbest line you ever pulled on me.”

“Look, I’m not ready for you,” Min said. “I’m not prepared. I don’t have any defenses when you’re around. I make these plans and I mean it, I really do, and then I kiss you because I’m crazy about you which would be fine if I didn’t fall in love with you but there that is, just standing there, and you know it, you know you’ve got me.” She stopped because she was sounding hysterical.

“All right,” Cal said, setting his jaw. “Maybe we—”

“I need to go home,” Min said.

“All right,” Cal said again. “We can—”

“No,” Min said. “Diana will be out to find me in a minute and she’ll walk me. We’ll walk each other.”

“Min,” Cal said.

“I just wasn’t expecting that song,” Min said. “Not the way you sang it.”

“Neither was I,” Cal said grimly.

“I know,” Min said. “I could see it in your eyes. You didn’t mean it.”

“Of course I meant it,” Cal snapped, as Diana came out into the street. “I just didn’t know I meant it until I sang it. Fucking Elvis and his love songs.”

“Well, that’s the thing about Elvis,” Min said, finally losing her temper. “You make all the fun you want of the fried bananas and the sequined jumpsuits, but he never lied when he sang, he always meant it. There weren’t any damn secrets—”

“What secrets?” Cal said.

“—and there weren’t any damn lies. So the next time you want to snow somebody, don’t channel Elvis.”

Min turned away and started off down the street, making her heels click on the pavement like a backbeat.

“You know, all I wanted was a little peace and quiet,” Cal yelled after her. “But no, I had to get you.”

Diana hurried behind her to catch up.

“Why are you upset?” Diana said when she was beside Min. She looked back over her shoulder at Cal. “That was the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.”

“I know,” Min said and walked faster.

“What’s wrong?” Diana said.

Min stopped. “I’ll tell you if you tell me what’s wrong with you and Greg.”

Diana bit her lip. “You first.”

“The first night Cal picked me up?” Min said.

Di nodded.

“He did it because David bet him ten bucks he couldn’t get me into bed in a month,” Min said.

“No, he didn’t,” Diana said, positive. “He wouldn’t do that.”

“I heard him, Di,” Min said. “He did it. And I know there’s more there now, but I’ve only known him three weeks, and I’m already lost whenever he’s around, and it’s just too big a gamble. He’s just... he leaves women all the time. Greg was right about that. I don’t want to be in a place where I’ll die if he leaves me because he’s going to leave me.” She felt tears start and blinked them back. “And then the son of a bitch sings to me like that, and I just... He’s just too...”

“Dangerous,” Di said. “That’s why I picked Greg. I knew he’d never be dangerous.”

“What happened?” Min said.

“I don’t think he wants to get married anymore,” Di said, and Min heard the tears in her voice. “I asked him, I told him if he wasn’t ready we could postpone it, but he keeps saying he’s ready, he wants to, and I think it’s just because he can’t stand disappointing everybody but he’s—”

“What are you guys doing?” Tony said, coming up out of the dark and scaring them both into shrieks. “Standing around waiting to get mugged?”

“And now our wait is over?” Min said, trying to get her breath back.

“Cal sent me,” Tony said. “He doesn’t like you walking home alone. So you get me.”

“You don’t have to,” Min said.

“Are you kidding? I’m with two hot women in the dark,” Tony said. “By the time I’m finished retelling this in my head, it’s going to be phenomenal.”

“Is he joking?” Di said to Min.

“I don’t think so,” Min said. “Could you picture me about twenty pounds lighter in this fantasy?”

“No,” Tony said. “I’m picturing you just the way you are, babe. Don’t tell Cal or he’ll break my teeth.”

“Your teeth are safe,” Min said, and began to walk again.

“So what would we be doing in this fantasy?” Di said to Tony as they fell into step beside Min.

“Well, first we’d read a good book because I know that classy women like you go for guys who read,” Tony said.

Min took his arm. “Thank you for walking us home.”

“Anything for you, kid,” Tony said, patting her hand, and then he went on with his fantasy, and Min held on to him and tried not to think about what she was walking away from.

Back in the restaurant, David looked at Cynthie triumphantly and said, “We did that.”

“No,” Cynthie said, her face white. “That wasn’t us.”

“Min was jealous,” David said, feeling better than he had in weeks. “And then Cal made a fool of himself with that stupid song and embarrassed her. You were right about us...” He waved his hand and added silently,... having the best sex in the history of the world. God, I’m good.

“I wish that were true,” Cynthie said, still staring at the door.

“You know they’re out there fighting,” David said. “Why aren’t you happy?”

“There’s a certain kind of fight that is... a relationship adjustment,” Cynthie said, her voice dull. “You fight, and then reconcile and move closer together. And then fight again, and reconcile. Each time there’s a compromise. Each time you grow closer.”

“Fighting is good?” David said. “That’s nonsense.”

“What’s the best kind of sex there is, David?” Cynthie said. “Make-up sex. It’s because you’ve come back even closer. If it’s the right kind of fight. You’re going to have to move fast if she truly is upset with him.”

“I’ll call her tomorrow,” David promised. “She’s emotional right now. Better to let her calm down.”

Cynthie looked back at the door. “All right. Be careful.”

“Stop it,” David said, covering her hand with his. “We won.”

Cynthie shook her head. “Nobody won tonight.”

Later that night, after Min and Diana had folded two hundred cake boxes and talked about the wedding but not Greg or Cal, Diana went to bed, and Min sat alone on the couch with Elvis in her lap, and tried to figure out where she’d gone wrong. Maybe if she hadn’t said yes to that picnic in the park, if she hadn’t kissed him back, if he hadn’t kissed her at all, if she hadn’t met Harry. Definitely before she met Harry. Maybe if she hadn’t thought she was so damn smart that she could play David and Cal in the beginning. Maybe if she’d had enough sense not to cross the damn bar in the first place, if she’d looked at him and known nothing good could come of him and had never overheard that damn bet. It was hard to pinpoint exactly where she’d moved past reckless and into insanity, but she kept thinking if she could just figure out where she’d gone wrong, she’d understand what happened, and then she’d be done with it—

Somebody knocked on the door, and when Min opened it, Bonnie was standing there in her chenille robe holding a teapot. “I made cocoa,” she said, and Min felt the tears start. “Oh, baby,” Bonnie said and came in, putting her arm around Min, balancing the cocoa pot in her other hand. “Come on. We just need to talk about it.”

“I thought I was so smart,” Min said, fighting to keep her voice steady. She took a shuddery breath. “I kept thinking I had it all under control.”

“I thought you did pretty well,” Bonnie said, putting the cocoa pot down on the sewing machine table. She took a cup out of each pocket, and Min laughed at her through her tears.

“Where’s Roger?” Min said. “I don’t—”

“He’s asleep downstairs,” Bonnie said, picking up the pot. “He’s worried about you, but it gets to be midnight and he clonks right out for a solid eight hours.”

Min laughed again and then sniffed. “If I’d had any brains, I’d have grabbed Roger that first night.”

“Roger would bore you to tears,” Bonnie said, handing her a filled cup. “Just like I’d have shoved Cal under a bus by now.”

“You would have?” Min sniffed again.

“Oh, please, that master of the universe act?” Bonnie said. “That’s one scared man you’ve got there. I don’t have the time for that. I want kids, I don’t want to marry one.”

“He’s a good guy, Bon.” Min sipped her cocoa and began to feel better.

“I know,” Bonnie said. “And some day he’ll grow up and be a good man. In the meantime, he broke your heart so I’m mad at him.”

“No, he didn’t,” Min said. “He tried not to be with me.”

“No, he didn’t.” Bonnie sat down next to her on the couch with her own cup. “He had every opportunity in the world to get away from you and he passed up every one of them to be with you.”

“That’s because he couldn’t charm me,” Min said. “It wasn’t—”

“Oh, stop being such a baby,” Bonnie said, and Min jerked her head up and startled Elvis. “Well, listen to yourself. You’re miserable, but it’s not his fault and it’s not your fault. Well, screw that.”

“Bonnie” Min said, scandalized.

“What do you want, Min?” Bonnie said. “If life were a fairy tale, if there truly was a happy ending, what would you want?”

“I’d want Cal,” Min said, feeling ashamed even as she said it. “I know that’s—”

“Don’t,” Bonnie said, holding up her hand. “Why do you want him?”

“Oh, because he was fun,” Min said, smiling as she blinked the tears away because she was so shallow. “He was so much fun, Bonnie. And he made me feel wonderful. I was never fat when I was with Cal.”

“You’re never fat when you’re with Liza and me,” Bonnie said.

“I know,” Min said. “He was almost like you except I couldn’t trust him and he really turned me on.”

“Maybe that’s why he turned you on,” Bonnie said. “Somebody you couldn’t handle.”

“Yeah.” Min let her head drop back against the couch. “He was exciting. I never knew what was coming next. And neither did he. We fed off each other. What dummies we were.”

“I wouldn’t rush to use the past tense,” Bonnie said. “So back to the fairy tale. Tell me your happily ever after.”

“I don’t have one,” Min said. “Which is why I’ll never get one.”

“Mine,” Bonnie said, “is that I marry Roger, and we have four kids. We live in a nice house in one of the suburbs with good schools, but not one where everybody wears plaid.”

“Makes sense,” Min said, and sipped her cocoa again.

“I’m a stay-at-home mom,” Bonnie said, “but I do keep a few clients, my favorite clients, and I watch their portfolios like a hawk so I don’t lose my edge. And word gets out, and as the kids get older, I add to my client list because there are so many people who are dying to get me.”

“That’s not a fairy tale,” Min said, putting her cocoa cup down. “That can all happen.”

“And our house,” Bonnie said, as if she hadn’t heard, “becomes the place everybody comes home to, for the holidays and everybody’s birthdays, everybody comes to us. And we have these big dinners and everybody sits around the table and we’re family by choice. And you and Liza and Cal and Tony are all godparents to our kids, and every time there’s a big school thing, you all come out and cheer our kids on—”

“I’ll be there,” Min said, trying not to cry.

“—and none of us will ever be alone because we’ll have each other,” Bonnie said. “You’re going to like my grandchildren, Min. We’re going to take them shoe shopping.”

“Oh, Bonnie,” Min said and put her head down on the couch cushion and howled, while Bonnie stroked her hair and drank her chocolate.

When Min had subsided to a few gasping, shuddering sobs, Bonnie said calmly, “Now you.”

“I can’t,” Min said.

“Well, you’re gonna,” Bonnie said. “It starts with Cal, right?”

“Why?” Min sat up and wiped her face with the back of her hand. “Why does it always have to start with some guy?”

“Because it’s a fairy tale,” Bonnie said. “It all starts with the prince. Or if you’re Shanna, with the princess, but still. It starts with the big risk. You’re all alone sitting on a tuffet, on in your case, an Aeron, and this guy rides up and there it is, your whole future right there before you—”

“What if he’s the wrong one?” Min said. “Accepting for the moment, which I don’t, that the whole thing starts with the prince, how do you tell the prince from—”

“The beast?” Bonnie said. “Honey, they’re all beasts.”

“Roger isn’t,” Min said.

“Oh, please,” Bonnie said. “He’s down there snoring like a bear now,” and Min laughed in spite of her tears. “You really think Cal’s a mistake?”

Min swallowed. “Well, logically—”

“Do not make me dump my cocoa on you,” Bonnie said.

“I don’t have anything else to go on,” Min said. “How am I supposed to know?”

“Tell me your fairy tale,” Bonnie said. “It’s just between you and me, nobody else will ever know. If you could have anything you wanted, no explanations, no logic, just anything you—”

“Cal,” Min said. “I know that’s stup—”

“Stop it,” Bonnie said. “God, you can’t even dream without qualifiers. Tell me your fairy tale.”

Min felt the tears start again, and she gathered Elvis up and petted him to distract herself. “It’s Cal. And he loves me, so much that he can’t stand it, as much as I love him. And, uh,” she gulped back tears, “we, uh, we find this great house, here in the city, maybe on this street, one of the old bungalows like the one my grandma used to live in. I’d like that. With a yard so Elvis could stalk things. And maybe a dog, because I like dogs.”

Bonnie nodded, and Min sniffed again.

“And I keep working because I like my work, and so does Cal because he loves what he does.” She sighed. “And sometimes he calls me up and says, ‘Minnie, I’ve been thinking about you, meet me at home in twenty minutes’ and I do and we make love and it’s wonderful, right in the middle of the day...” She stopped to sniff and Bonnie nodded.

“And sometimes we go to Emilio’s, we meet all you guys at Emilio’s, like every Wednesday, we all meet, and we laugh and catch up on what’s happening, and when you and Roger have your kids, Emilio adds more tables, and he and his wife and kids eat, too, and Brian serves us, and sometimes we go out to your house...”

Bonnie smiled and nodded.

“... and the guys watch the game and hoot and moan, and you and I and Liza and Emilio’s wife sit out in the kitchen and eat chocolate and talk about all the things we’ve done and they’ve done and laugh....” Min took another deep breath and realized she was still crying.

“And then Cal and I go home,” she said, her voice breaking, “and it’s just the two of us, and we laugh some more and hold each other and eat and make love and watch dumb movies and just... be with each other. We just feel good because we’re with each other.” She wiped her eyes again. “That’s all I’d need. The two of us, talking and cooking and laughing. It’s so simple.”

She took a deep shuddering breath and met Bonnie’s eyes. “I can have that, can’t I?”

“Yes,” Bonnie said.

“But only if Cal is who I need him to be,” Min said.

Bonnie nodded.

“So I just have to trust that he’s who I think he is and not who he thinks he is,” Min said.

“Big gamble,” Bonnie said.

“Do you ever wonder what happened after the happily ever after?” Min said. “After the wedding was over and the townspeople went home, and they finished opening all the stuff that was monogrammed with a gold crown? Because the story’s over then. All the questing and the courting and the trauma. From then on it’s just sitting around the castle, polishing all the toasters they got for wedding gifts.”

“That would pretty much depend on the prince,” Bonnie said. “I can see David polishing a lot of toasters.”

Min laughed in spite of herself.

“But Tony would hot wire them all together and calibrate them so they’d shoot toast at varying intervals,” Bonnie said and Min laughed harder.

“And Cal would bet on it,” Min said, smiling and crying at the same time now, “but only after he’d seen Tony shoot the toasters a thousand times and calculated the odds.”

“And Roger would put out stakes and yellow tape so that nobody got hit by flying bread,” Bonnie said with affection.

“And Liza would figure out how to make the whole thing pay,” Min said. “And you’d make sure Tony bought the bread at cost and invested the profits wisely.”

“And you’d look at the whole thing and gauge the risk and tell us what we’d missed,” Bonnie said.

“You know this toaster thing might be worth looking into,” Min said. “Tony’s nuts, but his ideas are always good.”

Bonnie nodded.

Min bit her lip and swallowed more tears. “I want the fairy tale.”

“Okay,” Bonnie said. “Now all you have to do is figure out how.”

“Yeah,” Min said. “I can do that. I just have to think it out.” She looked at Bonnie. “Are you going to dump cocoa on me?”

“No,” Bonnie said. “The only illogical thing you have to do is believe. After that, you need brains.”

“Oh, good,” Min said. “Brains, I got. Leap of faith, taken. Plan, still in the works.”

Bonnie nodded again. “Can you sleep now?”

“Uh huh,” Min said, tearing up again. “Why can’t I stop crying?”

“When was the last time you cried?” Bonnie said.

“I can’t remember,” Min said.

“When was the last time you cared enough to cry?” Bonnie said.

“I can’t remember that, either,” Min said, appalled.

“So you’ve got some catching up to do,” Bonnie said, standing up. “I have to go downstairs and sleep with a bear.”

Min gave her a watery grin. “Do not expect me to feel sorry for you because you’ve got Roger.”

“I don’t,” Bonnie said airily. “I expect you to envy me beyond measure.”

“I do,” Min said, thinking of the man she’d left enraged in the moonlight. “But I want Cal.”

Cal didn’t call, and that was all right, Min told herself, because she’d see him at the rehearsal dinner since he hadn’t called to cancel, plus she didn’t have time to think about him with the wedding only four days away, especially since she found herself fielding a dozen calls a day from her increasingly frantic sister, and anyway she was better off without him as a distraction.

She missed him.

Sunday, she kept telling herself, on Sunday this will all be over, Diana will be married, and I can fix my own life then. The only part she wasn’t sure about was the “Diana will be married,” but since Diana was insistent that her romance was a fairy tale, there wasn’t much Min could do besides hold her hand, make supportive noises, and listen. So she propped Diana up, went to the If Dinner on Thursday night and brought the rest of the hand-packed quarts of ice cream that Cal had given her, told Liza there was no need to apologize for making Cal sing since their fight had been inevitable, and tried to figure out a way to make things right without actually talking to him or seeing him.

But on Saturday morning, she had to go to baseball for Harry, so she put on her newest sandals—clear plastic mules with French heels and cherries on the toes—and got to the park a couple of minutes after the game started. She found a seat to one side, trying to stay inconspicuous and wave to Harry at the same time, but Bink saw her and motioned her up. Min smiled at her and then realized that the man sitting next to her wasn’t just a miscellaneous father, he was Reynolds. Cynthie was on Bink’s other side, wedged in next to another parent, which meant Min was going to be stuck sitting beside Reynolds. This has to be payback for something, she thought, and climbed to the top and sat down.

“So how we doing?” she asked him.

“These kids can’t play,” Reynolds said, shaking his head. “No discipline.”

“Well, you know, they’re eight,” Min said.

“Discipline starts young,” Reynolds said, looking at her with contempt, and Min thought, There goes our chance at bonding.

Down on the field, Bentley bobbled a catch and the ball rolled over to Harry, who picked it up and threw it in the general direction of a base he thought might be appropriate.

“Oh, God, Harry,” Reynolds said loudly.

Min saw Cal off to one side of the field and felt her stomach lurch. Ridiculous, she told herself and swallowed hard. He spread his arms out at Harry as if to say, What? and Harry shrugged and crouched down again. Cal shook his head but Min could tell from the set of his shoulders that he wasn’t mad. When he turned around he was grinning, and then he caught sight of her and his grin vanished, and she felt the rejection in the pit of her stomach.

Oh, ouch, she thought and looked away to the dugout where Tony was eating a hot dog and shaking his head, and Liza was sitting next to him with her chin on her hand. Down at the bottom of the bleachers, Bonnie was keeping some kind of tally for Roger who would use it to explain to the kids later the importance of something or other. Lucky kids, she thought and wished she were down there with Bonnie, or with Liza, or better yet, shoe shopping somewhere. Anywhere but here, looking at what she couldn’t have. Or didn’t have the guts to go after. Same thing, really.

Throughout the rest of the game, Reynolds continued to express his disgust at the general ineptness of the team in general, winning no friends among the parents in the bleachers, and making an already jittery Min long to hit him with something. Bink grew more and more owl-like, and Min wondered why she put up with him. I’d have left his ass a long time ago.

Down on the field, Harry came up to bat. He looked up at them, and Min waved to him, smiling. He pounded his bat on the ground a couple of times and then put it on his shoulder, dead serious. And when the pitch came, he missed it by a mile.

“Come on, Harry,” Reynolds yelled. “You can do better than that. You’re not trying.”

Shut up, Reynolds, Min thought.

Down on the field, Harry’s shoulders hunched a little, and up in the bleachers, Bink grew even stiller.

Harry fanned the next one, too, and Reynolds yelled, “Concentrate, Harrison! You can’t swing at anything like a dummy. Think,” and Min saw Cal look up at his brother, his face set.

Might want to ease back on that, Reynolds, Min thought, and then Harry stiffened up and swung at a pitch that was so bad it didn’t even cross the plate, and Reynolds stood up and yelled, “Harry, that was stupid, damn it, can’t you do anything right?,” and Harry froze, his little shoulders rigid, and Cal left the field, coming straight for his brother, murder in his eyes.

“No, no,” Min said, panicking as Cal hit the bleachers. She stood up and stepped in front of Reynolds and hit him hard on the arm with her fist.

“Hey!” Reynolds said, grabbing his arm.

“You miserable excuse for a parent,” she said to him under her breath. “You do not humiliate your kid like that.” She raised her voice and yelled, “Harry is really smart, he’s always smart,” and then she whispered, “But you are the dumbest son of a bitch I have ever seen in my life.”

“I beg your pardon,” Reynolds said, outraged.

“It’s not my pardon you need, you miserable butthead,” Min whispered, leaning closer. “It’s your kid’s, the one you just humiliated in front of all his friends, and if you think that made you look good to anybody here, your head really is up your butt.”

“You’re out of line,” Reynolds said, but he looked wary now, darting a glance at the other parents, who were clearly not amused. He shook his head, trying for bluster. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

“Well, for starters, she’s the woman who just saved your ass,” Cal said from behind her. “Because I was going to throw it off the bleachers until she got in my way.”

“You,” Reynolds said, looking past Min. “Like you could do anything about it. You can’t even coach these kids—”

“Oh, give it up,” Min said. “You know you screwed up, and the best you can do is blame your brother?”

“Listen,” Reynolds said, raising a finger. “You are not—”

“You know, Reynolds,” Cal said. “When you get home, you’re going to figure out that you just gave your kid the same kind of flashback you and I have been having all our lives. And while you are a butthead, you’re not a mean butthead, so that should give you some good nightmares about your parenting skills. In the meantime, you’re picking a fight with somebody who takes no prisoners. I’d back away slowly if I were you.”

“We’re going home,” Bink said.

“I don’t see why—” Reynolds began and then Bink looked at him, her gray eyes steely cold.

“We,” she said, “are going home where we will discuss this. Min, will you and Cal see that Harry gets home safely?”

“Yes,” Cal said from behind her, and Min nodded, shaking now that the first adrenaline rush had passed. She stepped sideways, back to her own seat, feeling incredibly rash, not to mention rude, and when she turned and sat down, Cal had already started back down the bleachers, Reynolds and Bink following him.

Out on the field, Harry had his back to them, but Tony was talking to him, so that was all right. Of course, Tony was probably telling him that his father was a jerk, but as far as Min was concerned, that was all right, too.

She glanced over at Cynthie, who looked thoughtful. “Hi,” Min said, taking a deep breath. “Enjoy the show?”

“I wouldn’t have done it,” Cynthie said, “but good for you anyway. You have more guts than I have.”

“It wasn’t guts,” Min said. “I probably overreacted.”

“No,” Cynthie said. “Cal overreacted, but he couldn’t help it. Reynolds played that family script and it makes Cal insane. He can’t stand being called stupid.”

“They get that a lot when they were kids?” Min said.

“I think they both had lousier childhoods than we can imagine,” Cynthie said. “That doesn’t mean you get to hit your brother in front of your nephew.”

“He probably wouldn’t have,” Min said.

“I don’t know,” Cynthie said. “But now you’re the bad guy for the family, not him. So you did him a favor there.”

“I was already the bad guy,” Min said. “His parents hated me.”

“I don’t think they like anybody much,” Cynthie said. “They’re very self-absorbed people. Not cruel. They just don’t pay attention.”

“So,” Min said. “You’re the psychologist, right? What do we do for Harry?”

“Cal will take care of it,” Cynthie said, nodding down at the field, where Harry and Cal were now sitting in the dugout. She tilted her head at Min. “It was doubly bad because you were here, you know. Harry has such a crush on you that to be embarrassed like that...” She shook her head and sighed. “You’re right. Reynolds is a butthead.”

“Is that the clinical term?” Min said.

“In Reynolds’s case, yes,” Cynthie said.

Down in the dugout, Tony sat down next to Liza and said, “You know, I used to think that if I was ever in a bar fight, I’d want you backing me up, but I think Min just moved ahead of you in the ranking.”

“I wouldn’t cross her,” Lisa said. “That man is a complete loss.”

“Yeah,” Tony said, his eyes on the field. “But Harry’ll be okay. He has Cal and Bink and Min on his side. I’d take that team any day. Christ, look at that.” He raised his voice. “Hey, Soames, look where you’re throwing the ball.” He shook his head but kept watching Soames anyway, ready to help.

That was Tony all over, Liza thought. He acted like a big lug but if anybody needed him, he was there.

She was really going to miss him.

“Tony,” she said as he bit into his hot dog, waiting until he was eating on the theory that it would soften the blow. “We are not going to work out.”

“What was your first clue?” Tony said around his hot dog, his eyes still on the field.

Liza let out her breath in relief. “It’s not that you’re not a great guy—”

“I know.” Tony swallowed and bit into his sandwich again. Out on the field, a kid bobbled a catch, and he closed his eyes. “Jesus.”

“We just got caught up in that threesome thing,” Liza said, and Tony stopped chewing and looked at her. “I mean, the three of us, the three of you. You know.”

“Right.” Tony resumed chewing and watching the field.

“Bonnie and Roger,” Liza said, “that’s a little spooky, but Bonnie doesn’t make mistakes.”

Tony swallowed. “Neither does Roger. They’ll be okay.”

Liza nodded. “And Min and Cal... well, I don’t know, but he’s not taking her for a ride, so I’m butting out of that one.”

“Good.” Tony took another bite, squinting at the field.

“But you and I are toast,” Liza finished.

“Yep.” Tony shook his head at the field. “That kid has no arm.”

“I’m glad to see you’re taking this so well,” Liza said, annoyed.

Tony shrugged. “I like you, but you’re always charging someplace, creating disturbance, and I like my stability.”

“Chaos theory,” Liza said.

“Yep,” Tony said. “Disturbed systems move to a higher order or disintegrate. We disintegrated. Also, you hate sports. Big deal. Nobody’s mad. What’s not to take?”

“Then why didn’t you end it?” Liza said, annoyed.

“I liked the sex. Oh, hell.” Tony scowled at the field where a hapless child had just missed a grounder. “You know, some kids should not play baseball.”

“Actually, I liked the sex, too,” Liza said, thinking about it.

“Anytime,” Tony said. “Now that’s an arm.” He lifted his chin and shouted, “Nice one, Jessica!”

Jessica waved back at him and then forgot Tony and crouched down, waiting for whatever came next.

Jessica is no dummy, Liza thought. “I do like you,” she told Tony, and he looked at her and grinned.

“I like you, too, babe,” he said. “If you ever need a guy beat up, call me.”

“Thank you,” Liza said, touched. “If you ever need a woman slapped, you have my number.”

“Really?” Tony perked up a little. “Can I watch?”

“And this is why we’re no longer having sex,” Liza said. “So you’re okay?”

“Yes,” Tony said, and then yelled, “No, no, no,” at the field.

Liza stood up and kissed him on the top of the head. “Don’t be mean to these kids,” she told him before she left him. “They’re going to grow up to own the companies you’ll be working for.”

A few minutes before the game ended, Min went down to the fence where Cal was leaning on the dugout. She stood there for a minute, not sure what to do, and then she cleared her throat.

“That was good, what you said to Reynolds,” she said, hooking her fingers in the chain link. “Really good.”

Cal looked out at the field.

Look at me, damn it, Min thought, and searched for something that would get his attention. “And... really hot,” she lied, and swallowed hard. “I was very turned on. If there hadn’t been so many people here, I’d have done you in the dugout.”

Cal stood very still and then turned to her, his face still wooden.

Uh oh, she thought.

“Give me five minutes,” he said. “I’ll clear the place.”

Min exhaled in relief. “You had me worried.”

“Sorry.” Cal walked over to her and leaned on the fence to talk to her, looping his fingers through the chain link so they touched hers. “That was a bad flashback.”

“Your dad.” Min crossed her fingers over his because touching him again felt so right. “I got that. Is Harry okay?”

“No,” Cal said. “But he’ll live.”

“I don’t know if Reynolds will,” Min said. “Bink looked like the Angel of Death.”

“His ass is grass,” Cal said. “Doesn’t help Harry much.”

“Why did she marry him?” Min blurted. “I’m sorry, but—”

“He blinded her with charm.” Cal smiled at her tightly. “He met her in college and took one look at her money and threw everything he had at her. She never had a chance.”

Min thought of Bink, probably a frightened little owl in college, running into the glamorous and gorgeous Reynolds. “Why does she stay?”

“Because he loves her now,” Cal said. “Harry’s birth changed him. He’s a lot better than he used to be.”

“Damn,” Min said. “What was he before?”

“A charming bastard,” Cal said, his face grim again as he looked down at her. “Just like all the Morriseys.”

“That’s not you,” Min said.

“Oh, honey, it is sometimes,” Cal said miserably. “More than you know.”

“I’ve never seen it,” Min said.

“That’s because I wasn’t a bastard with you,” Cal said. “You beat that out of me early.”

Min grinned. “Well, you asked for it, Charm Boy.”

“Thanks for coming down here,” he said softly, and then Tony called him and he went back to the field.

Min went to sit beside Bonnie, and it wasn’t until Bonnie reached over and covered Min’s hands with hers that she realized she was shaking.

“How’s it going there?” Bonnie said.

“This fairy tale thing,” Min said. “It’s not for kids.”

Min went out to the parking lot after the game and found Harry in the backseat of Cal’s car, and Cal leaning against the passenger door, waiting for her. Don’t lunge for him, she told herself. Harry will notice.

“How are we doing?” she said.

“We’re going to have lunch,” Cal said, straightening. “And hear a lot of Elvis because thanks to you, that’s now Harry’s favorite music.” He opened the car door for her.

“That’s because Harry has great taste,” Min said, sticking her chin out. She got in the car and said, “Hey, fish guy, I hear we’re going to the diner for lunch. All Elvis, all the time.”

Harry nodded.

“If I were you, I’d ask for processed meats,” Min said. “In fact, ask for a brat. Milk this sucker for everything you can get.”

Harry looked surprised and then he nodded.

“Ready, Harry?” Cal said as he got in.

Harry nodded at him, soberly. “May I have a brat for lunch?”

“What?” Cal said and turned to look at him.

Harry peered back, woebegone.

“Minerva,” Cal said, looking straight into her eyes. “You’re corrupting my nephew.”

“Me?” Min lost her breath and smiled at him. “No, no. It’s just that Americans eat twenty billion hot dogs a year and I think Harry should have one of them.”

“Yeah,” Harry said from the backseat.

“Twenty billion,” Cal said and started to laugh, and Min relaxed a little.

When they were on the road, Min looked over the seat at Harry. “So what’s new in the world of fish?”

“Are you wearing those fish shoes?” Harry said.

“No,” Min said. “I found another shoe sale. I am wearing glass slippers with cherries on the toes.”

Cal looked down at her feet. “They’re okay,” he said after a moment. “But they’re not fish.”

Harry nodded.

“So explain to me about ichthyology,” Min said, and for the next two hours, Harry did, while Min tried to be fascinated but mostly thought about ways to get Cal to touch her. Anywhere. She’d take a pat on the head. To start with. But even with the distraction of Cal, by the time they were finished with lunch, Min knew more about fish than she thought possible.

“I may never eat seafood again,” Cal said, as he held the car door for her.

“Yes, but if there’s any money in fish, Harry will support you in your old age,” Min said, trying to ignore how close he was, and got in.

When Cal was in the car, too, Min said, “So, Harry, how you doing back there?”

“Can I have a doughnut?” Harry said, looking woebegone again.

“Harrison,” Cal said. “You are pushing it.”

“Drive to Krispy Kreme,” Min told Cal, who rolled his eyes and drove.

When they got there, the “Hot” sign was on, and Harry turned his owl eyes on Min. “Can I have two?”

“Harry,” Cal said.

“Yes,” Min said. “Today you can have two.”

“This is a mistake,” Cal said, but he went inside with them and they drank milk and ate warm chocolate-iced glazed doughnuts and talked about fish, and Min remembered the picnic table and tried not to breathe faster. By the time Harry was done with his second doughnut, he didn’t look woebegone anymore.

When they got back to the car, Cal said to Min, “You’re in the backseat.”

“Okay,” Min said, and got in the backseat, not sure why she’d been banished. Maybe Cal had seen the lust in her eyes and was trying to protect himself.

Harry looked happy as a clam riding shotgun for about five minutes. Then he turned green.

“Yep,” Cal said and pulled over.

Harry opened the door and lost two doughnuts and a pint of milk into the gutter.

“Oh, honey,” Min said, wincing with guilt. “I’m sorry.”

“It was worth it,” Harry said, wiping his mouth. “And I kept the brat.”

Cal passed him a bottle of Evian. “Rinse and spit. At least twice.”

“Where’d you get that?” Min said while Harry rinsed and spat.

“I bought it when I paid for the doughnuts,” Cal said. “I’ve been here before.”

Harry sat back in his seat. “It’s pretty gross out there. Should I pour the rest of the water on it?”

“Sure,” Cal said, and met Min’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “We Morriseys always wash out gutters with Evian.”

“You people are pure class,” Min said.

When they pulled into Harry’s driveway, which was a clone of Cal’s parents’ drive, Harry turned to Cal and said, “Thank you very much.”

“You’re welcome, Harry,” Cal said.

Then Harry leaned between the seats and whispered, “Thank you for the doughnuts.”

“My pleasure,” Min whispered back, and then she leaned closer and whispered in his ear, “I love you, Harry.”

He grinned at her, and then shot a superior look at his uncle.

“Harrison, if you’re making time with my girl, you’re in big trouble,” Cal said.

Harry grinned wider and got out of the car. “See ya,” he said and slammed the door.

“He’s a little young for you, don’t you think?” Cal said, meeting her eyes in the rearview.

Min swallowed. “Yes, but he’s a Morrisey. You can’t resist that charm.”

“Yeah, I thought it was particularly charming the way he barfed in the gutter,” Cal said. “You going to move back up here with me?”

“I kind of like it back here,” Min said, faking unconcern. “Home, Morrisey.”

“Get your butt up here, Dobbs,” Cal said, and Min laughed and got out of the car.

When she was in the front seat and Cal had pulled out of the driveway, she said, “Is he okay?”

“Sure,” Cal said. “Harry’s used to throwing up.”

“I mean about the game.”

“Yeah,” Cal said. “It’ll come back to haunt him at odd moments from now on but he’ll handle it. He got rescued. The people around him told him he was fine. And Bink will handle it for him at home. It’s just tough when it’s your dad telling you that you’re stupid.”

“Yeah,” Min said, hating Jefferson Morrisey with a passion. “How are you doing?”

“Me? I’m fine.”

“Good,” Min said, and took a deep breath. She’d been on simmer for way too long. She had him alone, it was time for a plan. The smart thing to do would be to get everything out in the open, beginning with telling him she knew about the bet, discuss it like adults, and then maybe she could jump him—

“What?” Cal said into the silence.

“What?” Min said, jerking back in guilt.

“You went quiet,” Cal said. “Spill it.”

“Oh.” Maybe a full frontal approach wasn’t the way to go. “Well,” Min said. “I was thinking...”

“Uh huh,” Cal said.

“... that we have some issues to, uh, settle. I think. I would like to settle them.”

“Yes,” Cal said, sounding as if he didn’t have a clue what she was talking about but was willing to play along anyway.

“Because I think... maybe... we could... you know... give this a shot,” she said. “If we talked.”

Cal’s hands tightened on the wheel, but he kept his eyes on the road. “All right.”

You’re not helping, Min thought. “Did you know that seventy-eight percent of couples keep secrets from each other?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Cal said.

Min nodded.

“You made that up, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Min said. “Although I bet it’s close. Is there something you’re not telling me? Something from...” She shrugged. “... oh, before you met me?”

Cal didn’t say anything, and when she looked over he had that Oh, hell look on his face. “You already know,” he said, “or you wouldn’t ask.”

“Well, yes,” Min said, every muscle she had tensing. Why’d you have to ask? All those people who say, “Just talk about it,” they’re idiots.

“Min, it was years ago. My life was hell, and she was so great, and Reynolds was treating her like dirt—”

What? Min thought, her stomach plummeting.

Cal shook his head. “She’s a good person. I fell pretty hard.”

“Oh,” Min said, and told herself, Next time be more specific about the confession you want, you dumbass.

“Nothing happened, Min,” Cal said, glancing at her as he drove. “Bink isn’t a cheater, and as much as I want to smack my brother every time I see him, I wouldn’t do that to him. We just talked. A lot.”

“Uh huh,” Min said, trying to sound bright and encouraging.

“It was years ago,” Cal said. “She said I was the only person who didn’t care about her money. You’ve met her. You know what she’s like. She’s wonderful.”

“Uh huh,” Min said. I’m going to kill myself now.

“Are you okay?”

Min turned to look at him and blurted, “Did you love her?”

Cal slowed the car and Min thought, Oh, just hell, when will I learn not to ask what I don’t want to know?

He pulled over and shut off the ignition and turned to her. “Yes.”

“Oh.” Min nodded. “Okay. From now on, when I ask you something, just refuse to answer, okay?”

“All right,” he said.

“Do you still love her?” Min said.

“Yes,” Cal said.

“You don’t listen” Min said.

“Min, it’s not like that. I haven’t been in love with her for a long time. I think we both saw where it was going and neither of us wanted that nightmare, and Reynolds starting paying attention to her again, and I dated other women, and over time, it went away.”

“Not really,” Min said. “There’s something nice between you. More than in-law affection.”

Cal nodded. “Yes, she’s special. But it’s not... romantic. That was over a long time ago. Years and years ago.”

“Uh huh,” Min said, still coping.

Cal stared out the window. “Cynthie,” he began, and Min thought, Oh, kill me now. “She never caught that. She’s the psychologist, we were together for nine months, and she never saw that I’d felt like that about Bink. How did you?”

“I’m very acute,” Min lied.

Cal slid a little way down in his seat and stared out the windshield, and Min watched the ease in his broad body and wanted him more than she thought was possible. “You know, Cyn spent months trying to figure out why I was a serial dater.”

“A what?” Min said, trying to find her way back from lust and misery.

“That’s what she called it. The hit and run thing you keep busting me on. She decided it was because I was trying to make up for my mother, that I was trying to get love from all these women, and then when they gave it to me, I’d leave them to try to earn it from somebody else.”

“That Cynthie, a theory for every occasion,” Min said, feeling bitter and wanting somebody to take it out on. Cynthie seemed good.

“I wasn’t looking for my mother,” Cal said. “I was looking for Bink.” He turned and Min smiled at him so he wouldn’t see she was about to open the car door and throw up in the gutter. “I wanted somebody I could talk to, somebody I didn’t have to charm and please, somebody it just felt good to be with.” He shook his head. “I just didn’t realize it until now.”

“Well, good luck on that,” Min said brightly.

“Pay attention, Minnie,” he said. “I was dead in the water the minute you sat down on my picnic table.”

Suddenly Min realized there was no air anywhere. That would account for the dizziness.

“It took me a while to figure it out,” he said. “I wasn’t used to anybody like you. Because there isn’t anybody else like you.”

Keep breathing, Min thought.

“And then you ripped up at me in the street in front of Emilio’s, and I thought, Well, the hell with you. For about five minutes. Then I just wanted you back. You’re the only woman I’ve ever wanted back. And I’ve been trying to figure out a way to get you back ever since.”

Min sucked in some air before she passed out.

“I love you,” Cal said. “I know it’s insane, we’ve only known each other a few weeks, we need more time, I get all of that, but I love you and it’s not going to change.”

Min took another deep breath. You needed air to talk.

“For God’s sake, Min, say something,” Cal said.

“I love you,” Min said on a breath. “I’ve loved you forever.”

“That’ll do it,” Cal said and reached for her.