“None. Just that it’s been in the works—”

“Don’t bother to tell me. I’ll be careful. Come to bed. Can you forget about this awhile? All that worries me is how you’re dealin’ with this. You wouldn’t hurt a fly. I worry about that as well.”

“You’re different? We’re a pair to draw to, we are. On the other hand, I don’t like being fucked with. I’m still in too much shock to feel angry.”

“I was having the same thoughts this afternoon. I thought, If someone’s having us on, I’m going to haul him before God.”

“Loncaric wants six more months,” Devlin said.

“I thought it would be somethin’ like that. My father is just going to have to accept our situation. I’ll write him a letter. I’ll telephone him first and tell him it’s coming. I wanted to please him, but he’ll have to be realistic. More and more, I want to have a child. I don’t want to live the rest of me life without one. My father won’t withhold himself. I won’t let him.”

A moment later, when Devlin came out of the bathroom, Eileen sat up in the bed and reached for him. He pulled her close and buried his face in her shoulder, thinking that she was always ahead of him. He wanted to tell her, but she was already kissing his ear, tickling him deliberately.

“You have to pay attention, or this doesn’t work.”

He laughed, and she giggled when he kissed her, lying back again and pulling him down on top of her. Their minds were working alike. She arched her back, languid as a cat, and ran her hand up through his hair. Being together was only as real as they wanted it to be. He stroked her ribs, she turned her dark eyes up to his, and stroked his cheek with her fingertips. “I love you, you know,” she said.

He loved her. On the night they met, they sat in her kitchen talking over coffee until four A.M. He told her the story of his life more honestly than he had ever tried before. He liked her and wanted to see her again, but after more than two years of womanlessness, he wasn’t sure he could function. He told her that, too.