He tried to fight his way through the crowd to Kelly, but succeeded only in finding Mallory and David.

"How's Sam?" Mal asked.

"Already out of ICU and annoying the hell out of the nurses," Tom told her. "How are you doing? It's not everyday someone holds a gun to your head and threatens to kill you."

"I'm okay," she said. "Still a little shaky." She laughed. "Still a lot shaky. When you see Locke, thank her for saving my life."

"Yes," David said. "Please." As Tom watched, David pulled her into his arms, as if he couldn't bear not to hold her.

And Tom had to ask. "What happens with you guys in September?"

"I'm going to go to school part-time," Mal told him. "I'm not going to do the Navy thing-no offense, Tommy, but it's not my speed."

"We were thinking Mal could try to get a job in Boston as a photographer's assistant," David added.

"David lives in this big place, a six-bedroom apartment, and they nearly always need housemates, so I wouldn't really be living with him. And I'll be close enough to home, in case Angela needs me."

"In three or four years, we'll think about getting married," David said.

Married. The kid said the word in a sentence including the word we, and he didn't faint or make the sign of the cross or show any kind of fear at all. In fact, he smiled.

"You really think you'll still be together in three or four years?" Tom asked.

Both David and Mallory nodded.

"Absolutely."

"Definitely."

Their confidence awed him. Still, he had to ask. "And if you're not? . . ."

David looked at Mallory and smiled. It was loaded with meaning, laced with a healthy dose of "can you believe how stupid this guy is?"

"If we're not still together," David told him, "it won't be from lack of trying."

Kelly waited for Tom in the dark.

She heard him come home, saw the light go on in his bedroom as he changed out of his dress uniform.

She saw, through the cottage's living room window, that he also stopped to talk to Joe.

And then he headed out across the driveway.

She closed her eyes, picturing him using the kitchen door to get inside the big house, picturing him finding the note she'd left for him in her bedroom.

"Meet me in the tree house."

She couldn't bear to be in the house alone. It seemed so empty and quiet without her father. Yet at the same time, she could feel Charles's presence. In the living room. In the kitchen. On the deck.

Particularly on the deck, where he'd sat day after day, just watching the ocean. Loving a woman who had preferred death to living without him.

The ladder creaked under Tom's weight. He knocked on the door before he came in, which was absurd, considering this was a tree house.

"How's Joe?" she asked, suddenly nervous about everything she'd said to him yesterday, wishing he hadn't had to leave right away for those meetings in Washington, D.C.

"He's feeling pretty lost," Tom admitted. "You don't spend nearly sixty years as someone's best friend and then not notice when he's gone."

"Best friends for nearly sixty years." Kelly shook her head. "It seems as if it should be some kind of world record."

"Yeah. He feels good about talking to that writer, though."

"That's good."

There was silence for a moment, and then he spoke again.

"You know, I got another thirty days of convalescent leave," he told her. "This time I'm really supposed to rest. Actually, I don't think I'll need a full thirty, because the dizziness isn't happening so often anymore."

"You were dizzy yesterday," she pointed out.

"Yeah, but it didn't leave me unable to function. I didn't black out. I'm taking that as a good sign. And now with this extra time . . . I'm going to be okay. I know it."

"I'm glad." She could feel him watching her in the darkness. "I used to come out here to spy on you," she told him. "There's a clear shot from here into your bedroom window. I can't tell you how many times I've watched you walk around in your underwear. Or in less."

"You're kidding."

"Tonight your boxers are blue."

Tom laughed. "Holy God, you're a degenerate."

Kelly nodded, pleased he should think so. "That's right." But then she sighed. "Actually, I'm not. If I were a real degenerate, I'd go around looking into everyone's window. Frankly, the only window-and the only underwear-that interests me is yours."

"Still, you get extra depravity credits for longevity."

"Good," she said. "Yeah, I'll take 'em. At the very least, they'll help counteract my damned good-girl image."

"Personally, I find it intensely fascinating-your combination of good and, well, evil, for lack of a better word." His voice was like velvet in the darkness, surrounding her. He moved closer, and she could feel his body heat.

"Do you love me?" she asked, needing to know, and dammit, asking was the only way she'd ever truly find out. "I mean, the real me? Not the me you want me to be, but the one who says bad words and likes having sex in closets?"

He laughed softly. "How could I not?"

"I'm not trying to make a joke. I'm serious. Bad example."

"Good example." He kissed her, pulling her close. "How are you with tree houses?"

"Tom-"

He kissed her throat, his hands already beneath her shirt. "Because, you know, it's already been five minutes, and-"

"Oh, God, you're never going to let me live that down!"

"That's right," he said. "Until the end of time, I'm going to give you only five minutes of conversation, then I'm going to be all over you."

Oh, God. "It's going to be interesting when we meet in a restaurant."

His laughter was soft and very dangerous. "You bet."

"Or on the beach . . ."

"Uh-huh."

"Or an airport. I have a feeling we're both going to be seeing a lot of airports."

He lifted his head. "Unless you come to California with me."

Kelly was silent. Was he asking her? . . .

He cleared his throat. "I was thinking we could, you know, try to break Charles and Joe's record. Go for sixty-five years . . ."

Oh, God. "You mean, as best friends?"

Tom nodded. "I know the M-word makes you nervous, but yeah. I'm talking about the big, permanent friendship. A little different from what Joe and Charles had, though. See, I want to be the kind of best friends who make love every night, who share all their darkest secrets and favorite jokes, and maybe even someday make babies together. I know that kind of friendship requires hard work, but you know, I'm pretty good at hard work."

Kelly laughed. "My God, this is like getting propositioned by Mister Rogers. But then again, you always were a good neighbor. You're much more like Mister Rogers than, say . . . Satan. Wasn't that your nickname in town for a few years?"

"So ten thousand people were wrong about me. It happens." He pulled her with him onto the blankets she'd spread on the plywood floor. "Ten thousand people were wrong about you, too," he said as he kissed her again. "You're nowhere near as nice as they all thought. Most of them have absolutely no clue that you can do that amazing thing with your mouth." He smiled. "But I do."

Kelly smiled as she looked up at him.

Despite the shadows of the night, she knew he saw her clearly. And in the same way, she saw through all the labels and facades and the pretense to the real man that was Tom Paoletti.

"I love you," he whispered. "I know we can make this work. At the very least-as two very wise people told me-if it doesn't, we'll know it won't be from lack of trying. Marry me, Kel."

"And become the wife of a Navy SEAL?"

"Yeah. Never a dull moment. Of course, I'll be the husband of a highly esteemed pediatrician. It's hard to say whose pager will go off more often."

Kelly sighed as he kissed her. "I'm afraid of marriage."

"I'll protect you."

"Do you promise?"

"I promise. I swear. I-"

"I want us to be the kind of people who are still crazy in love when we're seventy-five years old."

He kissed her again. "Definitely. Still doing it in the tree house at seventy-five. I promise."

"I love you," she told him. "I have since I was fifteen. But I don't think I can marry you unless you agree to let Joe live with us. We can get a place with an attached apartment and-"

"You are as nice as everyone says."

Kelly pushed him off her, wrestling him over and pinning him down onto his back. "If you're not careful," she warned, "I'm going to have to prove you wrong by doing that thing, you know, with my mouth? . . ."

Tom just smiled.