"No one?"

"No one!"

"But living together is more final," I said timidly.

"Kris, you make it sound like death."

"You know what I mean."

She sat up on the couch and stared at me. "Actually, I don't."

I squirmed on the loveseat. "What if you feel trapped and have an affair the week after we move in together."

"That particular week, I'll be too busy unpacking," she said lightly. When she spotted the concerned look on my face, she added, "I'm kidding. Honestly, I can't guarantee I won't feel trapped, but I can promise I won't cheat on you."

"But where would we live?"

"Here, wouldn't we? I mean it would be a lot more comfortable. You just rent, and your apartment isn't big enough for both of us. I own, and it wouldn't be easy to sell a house this size."

"The real estate market's pretty hot right now," I countered.

"I thought you liked it here," she said, pained.

"I do, but what about all the women you've been with... in there?" I pointed to the bedroom behind us.

"First of all," she said tightly, "I rarely invited any of them over. I went to their places so I could leave in the middle of the night. Secondly, that's never seemed to bother you before."

I folded the newspaper carefully and set it on the floor. "That's because I was a guest, but now that I would be a resident, things are different."

"I don't want to give up this house, Kris," she said shortly. "You know how much work I've put into it."

On cue, the distant sound of a buzz saw interrupted our terse discussion.

I frowned. "What's that? Is one of the neighbors remodeling?"

Destiny wouldn't make eye contact. "Er, no, I am, actually. Suzanne asked if I could do some touch-up on her bathroom."

"Why? It's gorgeous."

"There were a few flaws in the original work around the bathtub. Claudia's redoing it."

"That's insane! You spent a fortune fixing up her apartment last year. There's no way she could find another place as nice for the rent she pays."

"She didn't ask for anything," Destiny said, shifting in her seat. "I offered. Now could we please get back to what we were talking about?"

"Living together?"

She nodded impatiently.

"This could never be my home," I said, suddenly exhausted. "I love this mansion, but it's yours, and Claudia's and Suzanne's. You each have your own floor, your own energy. There's no room for me."

"I could make room."

"I don't think I could give up my apartment."

"Why not?"

"I don't like being on the ground floor. It scares me too much."

"You've never told me that before."

"Why do you think I live on the nineteenth floor, in a secured building, with security guards around the clock?"

"We could put in a burglar alarm."

"It wouldn't be the same."

"How about a dog?"

I shook my head.

Aggravated, Destiny took a deep breath. "You might have genuine safety concerns, but that's not what this is about. Even if I agree to move, and I let you choose the place, you won't live with me, will you?"

I formed a loud protest, then aborted it and mumbled, "Maybe not."

"What's really going on?"

I took in a deep breath and lowered my head. "I don't know."

"Do you love me?"

I sprang up and joined her on the couch. "God, yes!"

"Do you know that I love you?" she asked softly.

"Yes, but it's more complicated than that," I said uneasily. "It's about my family and me and how I need to be alone so much of the time. I have to have somewhere to go, where no one else is."

"If we stayed here, we could create a separate space for you," she offered.

"Where?"

"I don't know. Maybe we could convert the dining room into an office or a reading room."

"That wouldn't work," I ventured lamely.

"Sure it would! If we need to, we could knock out a wall or add one."

"You'd do that for me?"

"Kris, I'll do whatever it takes," she said firmly. "I want to be with you."

"Maybe we coulda"" I stopped short because my stomach had tightened, and the words caught in my throat. "It's more than just physical space. I can't stand to be this close. I can't do this," I said, disheartened. "Not now, maybe never."

Afraid of Destiny's reaction, I returned to the love seat and covered my head with my hands, curling into myself.

A long silence followed before I felt her move to the seat beside me. She put her arms around me and tried to quiet the sobs.

"I'll wait," she whispered, "for as long as it takes."

That night, Destiny and I slept with our backs to each other.

Over the next few days, although we both swore it wasn't by design, we managed not to see each other.

Just as well, because I had a lot on my mind.

Wednesday morning pulled around, and I stopped by the office only long enough to pick up supplies.

I drove to Children First and, through a back door, I hauled in three boxes of colored paper, sticky tabs, pens, and clip art.

When Jean McNaulty entered the classroom, she greeted me with a glancing hug. "You're an angel."

I shrugged. "We had extra stuff sitting around the office, and I thought the kids might like it."

She gestured to several goodies, still in their original packing material, and shook her finger at me. "You shouldn't have, but they'll love it."

I smiled shyly.

"They won your heart, didn't they?"

I nodded and began to unpack the boxes. "I can't stop thinking about them, especially Ashley."

Jean joined me at the art supply shelves. "You made quite an impression on her last week."

"A good one, I hope."

"Quite. Patrice and I have been talking about how we can persuade you to visit every week."

I laughed nervously. "I think I'll take it one field trip at a time. Which grocery store are we visiting today?"

"King Soopers. Tyler's mom wants us to work with him on behavior modification in public places. We'll try, but with him ..."

Her voice faded when Patrice and the three kids, Ashley, Erin, and Tyler, entered the room.

"Ready to go?" Patrice said, perky. Ashley clung to the back of her leg, but peeked at me. I gave her a tiny wave, but she averted her gaze.

Thirty minutes later, we had everyone packed into the Children First van. Patrice and Ashley in the back, Erin and Tyler on the middle bench, and Jean and I up front.

As Jean drove, without prompting, she quietly predicted Ashley's future. At best, she would achieve a mental age of eight to twelve years. With proper support, she could adjust to marriage but not child rearing. She could be guided to social conformity.

Not a happy outlook. By the time we arrived at the store, I didn't know how much more I could stand to hear.

Fortunately, a scuffle in the back of the van diverted Jean's attention. As they had unloaded, Erin had smacked Ashley.

While Patrice comforted Ashley and Jean scolded Erin, I helped Tyler shed his heavy sweater.

"She always does that," Patrice said scornfully as she and I walked toward the store. "Ashley lets other kids hit her, and she doesn't react."

"Surely you don't want her fighting," I protested.

"No," she admitted, "but I don't want her giving up or giving in all the time either. She goes limp. I can see the hurt in her eyes, but she won't react physically."

"Is she okay?"

"I suppose. Erin never hits her hard, more pokes really."

"How about if I pair off with her while we shop?"

Patrice brightened. "Would you?"

"I'd love to."

"She likes to push the cart, but she's a little slow and awkward."

"I'm in no hurry," I said easily.

Patrice squeezed my arm. "I don't know what I'd do without you," she said.

Once inside the store, we split up. Erin and Patrice headed left to fill Patrice's list for her family. Tyler and Jean headed right to knock off Jean's shopping for school snacks. Ashley and I cut down the middle of the store.

"I have no list," I confessed to the five-year-old as she pushed our empty buggy. "I never go to the grocery store. Ever since I met my girlfriend Destiny, she shops for us. She puts food in my house and hers. Maybe someday, she'll only have to fill one refrigerator," I mused.

Ashley rammed the cart into a stack of potato chips. I backed it up and straightened it out. "How about if we each choose two things? Anything in the store, okay?"

She nodded intently. To start off, I chose the closest item I could reach. Ashley's eyes bulged as I hefted a bag of popcorn the size of a feed sack into the cart.

"Pretty big, huh? I like popcorn. This should last me a day or two."

Three aisles and four collisions later, Ashley chose her first item: a mop.

"How did you know I need a mop?" I fibbed, recalling the wall-to-wall carpeting in my apartment. "I used to have a friend who had hair like this," I said, fluffing the mop ends. "Okay, it was me," I confessed, as Ashley giggled. "Maybe I should have combed it more often."

I helped her steer around an elderly man who had a basket on one arm and a cane on the other.

Eventually, we passed the rapidly filling carts of Jean and Patrice, and after I nixed her live lobster selection, Ashley settled on her second choice. Following my super-size lead, she pointed to a giant can of pork and beans. I slid it onto the bottom shelf of the buggy, figuring I'd donate it to a shelter on my way home. Once they served the food, they could use the container as a wastebasket.

When we reached the loose candy bin, I prodded Ashley to choose one piece. After careful scrutiny, she picked a peppermint, and we dutifully inserted it into a plastic bag, along with my butterscotch.

Our rounds completed, we steered toward the check-out counter. There, I let her go first, and she tried to buy the sweets with a quarter I'd given her. The clerk glanced at Ashley with a measure of pity and disgust, then waved her through.