“But sex would be nice.”

“Sex would be nice. It’s funny you brought that up.”

“Funny ha ha, or funny I-can’t-remember-the-last-time-we-made-love?”

“Funny that you’re getting lucky this weekend.”

“Yeah, how’s that?”

“I’ve already talked to your mom. She’s taking Marah after the birthday party and you and I are going to have a romantic night in downtown Seattle.”

“What if I can’t fit into any of my nice clothes?”

“Believe me, I have no problem with nudity. We can order room service instead of going out. Although you’re the only one who thinks you haven’t lost the weight. Try on something. I think you’ll be surprised.”

“No wonder I love you so much.”

“I’m a god. There’s no doubt about it.”

She smiled and wrapped her arms around him, kissing him softly.

They had just closed their eyes again when the phone rang. Kate sat up slowly, and looked at the clock: 5:47.

She picked up on the second ring, saying, “Hello, Tully.”

“Hey, Katie,” Tully said. “How did you know it was me?”

“Lucky guess.” Kate rubbed the bridge of her nose, feeling the start of a headache. Beside her, Johnny grumbled something about people who couldn’t tell time.

“Today’s the day, remember? My report on the reservists Bush called up to active duty. My first honest-to-God important story.”

“Oh. Right.”

“You don’t sound very excited, Katie.”

“It’s five-thirty in the morning.”

“Oh. I thought you’d want to watch the broadcast. Sorry I bothered you. ’Bye.”

“Tully, wait—”

It was too late. The dial tone blared at her.

Kate cursed under her breath and hung up the phone. She couldn’t seem to do anything right lately. She and Tully had so little in common these days there wasn’t much to talk about. Tully didn’t want to hear endless “mommy” stories and Kate could only stand so many my-life-and-career-are-great anecdotes. The postcards and calls from distant, exotic places were vaguely irritating.

“She’s on Sunrise this morning, remember?” Kate said. “She wanted to remind us.”

Johnny threw the covers back and turned on the television. They sat up together, listening to Norville’s report on the buildup of hostilities in Iraq and the president’s response.

Then, suddenly, Tully was on the air. She stood in front of some rundown concrete building, talking to an impossibly fresh-faced kid with a thick red crew cut and freckles. He looked as if he could have been wearing braces and a letterman’s jacket ten seconds ago.

But it was Tully who demanded attention. She looked trim and utterly professional and beautiful. She’d tamed her curly auburn hair into a sleek, sophisticated bob and applied just enough makeup to accentuate her eyes.