After that long night spent together in the hospital waiting room, Kate had thought there might actually be some hope. She’d felt that a door had opened between them; they’d talked easily, and about important things. But whatever inroads had been made in the bright light of the waiting room had faded with the dawn. She’d never forget the look on his face when he learned that Tully would be fine. It was more than relief.

That was when he’d pulled away from her.

Now finally it was time for her to pull away from him. Time to leave her little girl fantasies in the sandbox along with other forgotten toys and move on. He didn’t love her. Any dreams to the contrary were simply that.

It couldn’t go on anymore. That was the decision she’d made at work today, while she stood in the doorway to his office, waiting for him to notice she was there.

As soon as her workday had ended, she’d gone to the newsstand in the Public Market and purchased all the local papers. While Tully was out bar-hopping with her guy du jour, or working late, Kate intended to rechart the course of her life.

Sitting at the kitchen table, with her half-eaten dinner still in cartons around her, she opened the Seattle Times and turned to the classified section. There, she saw several interesting choices. Reaching for a pen, she was about to circle one when the door behind her opened.

She turned around and saw Tully in the doorway; her friend wore her dating clothes—an artfully torn sweatshirt that exposed one bare shoulder, jeans tucked into slouchy ankle boots, and a big low-slung belt. Her hair had been puffed up around her face and pulled into a bright banana clip over her left ear. An ornate set of crucifixes hung from around her neck.

Of course she had a guy with her; she was draped all over him.

“Hey, Katie,” she said in a slurred I’ve-already-had-three-margaritas voice. “Look who I ran into.”

The guy stepped out from behind the door.

Johnny.

“Hey, Mularkey,” he said, smiling. “Tully wants you to come dancing with us.”

She closed the newspaper with exaggerated care. “No, thanks.”

“Come on, Katie. It’ll be like old times,” Tully said. “The Three Musketeers.”

“I don’t think so.”

Tully let go of Johnny’s hand and half stumbled, half lunged toward her. “Please,” she said. “I had a bad day today. I need you.”

“Don’t,” Kate started, but Tully wasn’t listening.

“We’ll go to Kells.”

“Come on, Mularkey,” Johnny said, moving toward her. “It’ll be fun.”

The way he smiled made it impossible to say no, even though she knew it was a bad idea to join them.

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll get dressed.”