“Hmm, interesting. Let me think.” Eighty-five percent of men who have heart attacks and die during sex are doing what? “I give up.”

“They’re cheating on their wives.”

KATE

KATE

IT TURNED OUT I WAS HUNGRY.

Jeff and I were sitting at a prime table at the California Grill, which sits atop Disney’s Contemporary Resort. The boys were in my room back at the lodge, already asleep in my bed. (We went back after Jeff’s triumphant speech to say good night, and Jeff told them a long story about a magical fart machine, which they loved.) While we ate, the boys were being watched by a Disney-approved babysitter named Heather. I’d been provided with a beeper that I had clipped to my purse. I could be contacted if needed.

I admit, it was nice to be out without the boys and away from the Disney characters assaulting us every time we turned around. I was torn between wanting to gush about Jeff’s speech, his work with Make-A-Wish, and wanting to hear about what had happened with the other Kate. But Jeff wanted to tell me a story.

“One time I was here and there was this guy—I guess you could say he was kind of a Disney freak. He had visited many times, and he knew that at Disney, things happened when they were scheduled to happen. Anyway, he brought his girlfriend here for dinner, and at eight fifty-nine P.M., he got down on one knee, raised a ring box, and proposed. His timing was perfect. The moment he finished asking, the first of that evening’s fireworks burst in the sky behind him. When she said yes, the others in the restaurant broke into applause.”

“That’s kind of queer.”

“You think so?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Oh,” he said gravely. “Well. It was me.”

“It was you? No wonder she broke it off.”

Jeff was quick to correct me. “But she didn’t. I called it quits.”

A family approached our table. They were from Sioux Falls, South Dakota, and wanted their picture taken with Jeff. They promised that as long as no one’s eyes were closed, they’d make it their Christmas card.

After they left, I asked Jeff to tell me about the other Kate.

He did at some length. She sounded like a catch. Smart, sexy, kind to animals, a member of a progressive church, very sexual, a happy childhood. She loved Korky, his dog. I kept waiting for the downside. But she was curious, a good athlete, active in social causes.

I couldn’t take it anymore. “So what was the problem?”

“She wasn’t you.”

I’d fallen for it. He was sneaky. And I was tipsy, but not so far gone that I couldn’t manage “Yes, and it’s a good thing she isn’t me.”

“Why? Why is it a good thing?”

“Because I’m married.”