FORTY

Dorothea chuckled quietly.  "Not what you drink.  But I have a bottle of red open."  She tipped her head toward the opposite side of the spacious kitchen.  "Want a glass?"

"Ah, why the fuck not?"  Jon's reply was a tired half-sigh.  "I got nowhere to be."

"Here.  Sit."  Dorothea slipped off her seat and waved at the stool tucked under the counter next to hers.

"I can get it, Dorothea."

"No, I've got it.  You sit."  Dorothea gave Jon the gentle rebuff as she moved around the end of the counter. 

Jon's hand curved over the smooth wood of the barstool's high back. The legs scraped quietly across the stone tile when he pulled it back toward him.  As he settled onto the seat Jon watched his ex-wife move across the kitchen and retrieve a wine glass from a cupboard, then reach for a dark-colored bottle tucked into a corner of the countertop.

"What vintage are you drinking these days?"  He gave her a little smile as she set the glass on the counter in front of him and uncorked the bottle.  His eyes followed the stream of dark ruby liquid that slid into his glass with her pour.

"Whatever goes with dinner," Dorothea chuckled.  "You know me, I'm not the vinophile you've become."  She tilted the bottle upright and glanced at the label.  "This is a 2009 Oregon Pinot Noir.  It was pretty good with the steak last night."

"Mmmm."  Jon hummed his acknowledgement as he picked up the glass and raised it to his nose.  He swirled the wine lightly in the bowl, then took a sniff.  "Nice.  Cheers."  Lifting the glass in a toast, Jon gave Dorothea a little smirk before tipping the glass to his lips.

Dorothea watched as Jon took a large gulp of the wine, then swallowed.  She tilted her head questioningly and raised a brow.  "What's going on, Johnny?"

"What do you mean?"  Jon raised his glass to catch the soft light, pretending to inspect the wine.  "This ain't half-bad.  Join me?"  Again he tipped the glass toward Dorothea as he ignored her query.

"I'll stick with coffee."  Dorothea's answer was calm, but firm.  She continued her stare silently, knowing he wouldn't be able to ignore her question much longer.

Jon took a smaller sip of the wine, this time holding it on his tongue before letting it slip down his throat.  He sighed, knowing she was going to wait for his answer if it took all night.

"It's nothing, Dorothea.  Just the usual, when she's away."

"You don't like being alone.  You never have."

"No, it's not that.  I don't like not knowing where she is."

Dorothea moved around the counter to reclaim her seat.  She raised her coffee mug to her lips before swiveling her barstool toward Jon.  "Maybe that's why she was calling, to tell you where she is."

Jon shrugged, dropping his gaze to his half-empty wine glass.  He slid its foot in a small circle against the granite countertop, making the wine swirl in the bowl.  "Yeah.  But she probably wouldn't have told me where she is.  She'd just let me know she's somewhere she can't say doing something she can't tell me about."

"Well, that is her job, isn't it?"  Dorothea challenged his mildly snarky complaint.  "You knew that going in, what she does for a living."

"Yeah, I know.  I'm just an asshole because I worry about her."  Jon's reply held a bitter edge.  He picked up the glass and took another drink.

Dorothea's jaw tightened, but she refused to take his bait.  This was what Jon did, what he had always done, when his insecurities started to rise.  He picked a fight.  It was one of his stupid macho Italian defense mechanisms.

"You're not an asshole because you worry.  You're an asshole if you take it out on her."  Dorothea picked up her coffee mug again.  "Or me," she added before taking a sip.

Jon snorted quietly at his ex-wife's blunt accusation, though the corner of his mouth curved upward.  She was right, of course.  She usually was.  "Well, I guess I better learn to get my ass-holiness in check, then.  Because I don't see things changing anytime soon."

"She's got a big case, huh?"  Cate hadn't told her anything about her current investigation, but Dorothea had assumed as much.  Cate's frequent plan-changes and general distraction during their covert party-planning partnership had made it obvious there was something significant going on.

"Yeah.  And apparently it's getting bigger by the second.  She keeps running back and forth between Trenton and Newark and Manhattan, talking to other cops and agents and lawyers and who the fuck knows who else."  Jon's words tumbled out in a bitter rush. 

"She's always thinking about work, night and day.   Shit, Dorothea, she was on the phone with Gus or some other agent at least five times a day when we were in St. Barth over the holidays."  He growled an exasperated sigh.  "Yeah, it's her job.  But lately it seems like it's her Goddamned life."

"Sounds familiar."

Jon turned his head to give his ex-wife a little sneer.  "Oh, now you're taking her side, huh?"

Dorothea didn't flinch.  "I'm not taking anybody's side, Jon.  I'm just saying there's a certain irony in you complaining about Cate's job not fitting neatly into a predictable little routine, that's all."

"Oh, right.  Because I work all night on the set or in the studio, fly off for meetings and appearances and gigs all the time, blah blah blah...."  Jon rolled his eyes.  "I do what I have to, Dorothea.  I'm in the entertainment business.  My job has never been nine-to-five."

"Believe me, I know."  Dorothea gave Jon a pointed look.  "Which is why you don't have much room to piss and moan about Cate being gone."

Jon took a breath, a sharp retort ready on his tongue.  But he stopped as his eyes locked with Dorothea's unflinching stare.  There was no point; she could see right through him.  His shoulders slumped forward as he leaned to rest his forearms on the countertop.  Jon sighed and dropped his gaze to his wine glass on the counter before him.

"Yeah.  Like I said, I'm an asshole."

The bitter resignation in his voice made Dorothea's glare soften.  Her lips curved into a sympathetic smirk.  "Yeah, you are.  Now you wanna tell me what's really going on inside that stubborn Neanderthal head of yours?"

"I just told you." 

"Jon."

"What?  You wanna remind me again what a jerk I am?  Go ahead."

Dorothea heard the subtle note of huskiness in his voice as Jon made his challenge.  Her expression softened more as she reached out to lay a hand on his forearm.  "This isn't just about Cate's job.  There's more."

The warmth of her touch made his defenses crumble.  His head bowed as he sat silent for a moment, trying to find the right words to voice his worries.

"I worry about her more now, more than I used to.  Not about what she's doing, or if she's being safe... exactly.  I know she's good at what she does, that she trusts her instincts."  He paused, not quite knowing how to continue.

"Jon, when she got injured last year... that wasn't her fault.  Car accidents can happen anywhere."

Dorothea's comment made Jon's lips curve ironically even as he felt his gut clench at the painful memory.  He had almost forgotten about the cover story Cate had told their friends and family after she was assaulted while working on an operation in the Cayman Islands.  The attack hadn't been related to her case; it was a random street crime.  And Cate's training had served her well; though she had suffered some injuries she had survived and later testified against her attackers. In fact, her instincts and her training had probably saved her life.

"I know, Dorothea.  It's not that."

Dorothea watched as Jon's expression sobered again.  He gave his wine another swirl before cupping his hand around the bowl.  Her hand slid from his forearm as Jon raised the glass to his lips and gulped down the remainder of the ruby liquid.

The resignation in his tone made her understand. 

"The baby." 

Jon's eyes closed at her voice.  He tipped his head back, feeling a slow, warm burn down his throat as he swallowed the wine.  It helped ease the guilty clench in his heart. 

He pulled his head forward, then turned to face his ex-wife.  He was relieved to see nothing but concern in her deep brown eyes.  Jon nodded slowly.

"Yeah.  Or more accurately... the baby we don't have."  His lips pressed into a thin line as he reached for the wine bottle. 

Dorothea watched as Jon half-filled his glass with the remnants of the Pinot Noir.  "You think Cate's focusing too much on her job and not enough on getting pregnant."  Her quiet response was more a statement than a question.

"In a nutshell?  Yeah."  Jon's voice was again tinged with bitterness as he set the empty bottle on the granite and pushed it away.

"Well, that's not exactly fair."

He snorted softly.  "I know.  Like I said, I'm an asshole."

"Johnny..."

He sighed deeply, then turned his head to give Dorothea a wan smile.  "You sure you want to hear about this?"

"If you want to talk about it.  And I think you do, since you're making excuses not to go home."  Dorothea nodded toward Jon's wine glass.

"Touché."  Jon chuckled softly.  He raised his glass for another sip, then sighed again.

"Our problems with... with getting pregnant."  Jon grimaced slightly as he avoided the "i" word he hated.  "I think it's partly because of stress.  Cate's already got her plate full with all the tests and the shots and the doctor's appointments... Christ, that's a full-time job right there.  She's had to go to Dr. Klein's office twelve times in the past month.  Twelve times!" 

Jon reached up to drag a hand through his hair.  "Not to mention how obsessive she's become about eating right and her exercise regimen.  My God, Dorothea.  She puts all this pressure on herself, then she's got this high-stress job on top of it?  That can't be fucking good."

"What does her doctor say?  Does he think stress is affecting her ability to conceive?"  Dorothea tilted her head as she raised her mug for another sip of coffee.

"He hasn't said anything."  Jon's answer was almost begrudging.  "But I don't think Cate's asked him, either.  Hell, why would she?  She might get an answer she doesn't want to hear."

"Why haven't you asked him?  You're his patient too, aren't you?"

"Because..." Jon paused, her blunt question catching him slightly off-guard.   "Because it's one of those things.  Just between us."  He snorted.  "And Christ knows, we don't bring it up much at home either.  Every time I try Cate just gets defensive, won't even listen to what I have to say."

"Really?"  Dorothea arched a brow as she returned her mug to the counter.  "What a surprise."

Jon's jaw tightened at her subtle sarcasm.  "Oh, right.  Because I don't listen.  I always have my mind made up, always want things my way.  Isn't that how the old song goes?  Man, I haven't heard this one since we were putting together the divorce settlement."

Dorothea gave Jon a sideways warning glare, then snorted softly.  A little smirk curled the corner of her mouth. 

One thing Dorothea had quickly discovered about Jon's new wife was that she was as driven and stubborn as he.  While Dorothea genuinely liked Cate, she occasionally felt a flash of satisfaction when Jon got a dose of his own medicine from his hard-charging, career-oriented mate.

"So if you're really worried about Cate's stress levels, why haven't you discussed your concerns with your doctor?"  Dorothea again ignored Jon's provocation, calmly repeating the pointed question. 

Seeing he wasn't going to get a rise out of Dorothea, Jon sighed.  He shook his head.  "I don't know.  I guess... I guess it's because I don't want her to think I'm ... blaming... her.  For us not being pregnant already."  The timber of his voice deepened with a hint of emotion.

"Do you blame her, Johnny?"

"No!"  Jon's answer was quick and emphatic.  He looked up at Dorothea, his blue eyes wide.  "Christ, no!  She's doing everything right.  Dr. Klein, Dr. Seuss... Hell, all her docs say so.  She's healthy, she eats right, she religiously follows her medication schedules, she makes every damned appointment... We... we just don't know why it's not happening."

Dorothea nodded sympathetically.  "Unexplained infertility.  You told me awhile back.  Nothing's changed?"

Jon shuddered at the clinical term.  "Don't say that.  We're not infertile.  She's not infertile.  It's just... harder.  Because we're... older."

"Sorry."  Dorothea gave Jon a small, apologetic half-smile.  "But Johnny... at some point you're going to have to talk about this.  With both Cate and your doctors."

"I just don't get why she can't see it."  Jon slumped against the back of his barstool and took another long swallow of his wine.  "I know she feels it.  I can see it in her face, in the way she walks.  This job of hers... this case... she's taking it too personally."

"She knows you worry.  She's even mentioned it to me."

"She thinks I'm worried about her safety.  And I am.  But now..."  Jon swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the lump forming in his throat.  "Now there's a child to think about.  Maybe not this minute, but soon.  She has to realize that, to see that it's not gonna be safe for her to keep chasing some sleazebag around, putting herself in danger."

"Jon, a lot of women are cops.  They don't quit because they get pregnant."

"No, but I betcha a lot of them come off the street, take desk jobs.  At least until after the baby's born."

"Maybe.  I wouldn't know."  Dorothea's expression softened as she saw the flicker of pain in Jon's blue eyes.  "Johnny, I'm sure Cate wouldn't do anything to endanger her pregnancy, once it happens."

"Maybe.   Maybe not.  And maybe we'll never find out."  His reply was a bitter retort preceding another gulp of wine. 

Dorothea's brow furrowed.  This was the first time she had heard Jon mention the possibility that his and Cate's quest for parenthood may be unsuccessful.  He didn't often acknowledge failure, and then usually only when he had no choice.

She sat watching him for a moment, considering what he had told her.  When Dorothea spoke again her words were quiet and thoughtful.

"Johnny, have you considered how Cate perceives her job?"

He snorted glumly.  "Sure.  She loves it."

"No, I mean the role it plays in her life."

"What the fuck are you getting at, Dorothea?"  Jon turned his tired blue gaze to hers.  "It's her job.  Her career.  It's what she does, not who she is."

"Really?  That's what you say about your job, too."

"And?"

"And we both know that's not true."  Dorothea's voice softened, tinged with a hint of regret.  "If it was... well... things would be different."

Jon's heart squeezed at her tone.  He tried to ignore it, looking away before she could see his reaction.  "That's different, Dorothea.  I'm an artist.  I have to create, to make music.  I don't know any other way to live."

"But being an artist doesn't mean you have to be in the music business.  You can write songs all day long and not ever publish them."  Dorothea's argument was gentle but firm.  "Lord knows you don't need the money.   But you need the adulation, Jon.   You need to share what you create with the world.  That is who you are."

Jon sighed and again raised a hand to ruffle his shaggy bangs.  "Okay, yeah.  You're right.  But Cate's not an artist.  Hell, she'll be the first person to tell you that.  She's a Cop.  Her world is about black and white and right and wrong.  It's about playing by the rules."

Dorothea smiled.  Jon was one step away from making her point for her.  "Yes.  It's law and order.  Jon, maybe Cate doesn't perceive her job as stressful.  Maybe it's like a security blanket for her.  It's her world, the one she's always known, where she feels in control and -- in some way that we don't get -- safe."

Jon gave Dorothea a doubtful stare, but she could see in his eyes a glimmer of understanding.  She continued, her voice quiet and calm even as inside she felt a tiny pang of jealousy toward the woman who had replaced her in Jon's life.

"If you think about it, you turned her life upside down.  Good grief, Johnny.  Look at her.  She's still not that comfortable in your world, even though you've been together for a few years now.  She doesn't know how to be the pampered wife of a millionaire, how to flit about society and spend your money.  Hell, she still has that little house in Georgia, still drives her old Mustang.  Johnny, she doesn't know how to be anything but a Cop."

"So?  You were always grounded.  You didn't play the Diva Rockstar Wife bullshit."

"No, but Johnny... we grew up together.  I loved you when you didn't have all the money and the success, and when you did."  A hint of sadness tinged her soft voice.  "You took care of me, I didn't have to worry about building a career."

Jon snorted softly.  "You were your own woman, Dorothea.  You had your projects, all the charity work.  Christ, you're raising four kids.  That's a full-time job in itself.  Even with help."

"And that's something Cate has never had.  Her life was different.  Until she met you."

"And I get that, Dorothea.  Honestly, I do."  Jon's answer was a half-sigh.  He lowered his head and squinted his eyes shut as he rubbed them wearily with the heels of his hands.  His fingers tunneled into his hair then raked through, sweeping the sandy shag back from his forehead. 

"And I feel like a Shit every time I wish she'd quit.  Or at least I used to, when it was just the two of us.  But now..."  He let his hands fall wearily to his lap.  "Now that we're trying to have a baby, I just can't stand the thought of her being out there in harm's way.  And I can't help but think that if she wasn't so wrapped up in her work, then maybe... well... maybe she'd already be pregnant."

"Then you have to tell her that, Jon."  Dorothea's reply was firm.  "If you don't deal with it now, it's not going to get any easier."

Jon shrugged and bowed his head but remained silent, a tacit acknowledgement of her advice.

Dorothea studied Jon's profile, her heart squeezing sympathetically at his sad expression.  Again she felt a little twinge of regret for the divergent paths their lives had taken.  Though she was glad her ex-husband had found happiness in a second marriage and grateful they had remained close friends, there were times when she wished he didn't make her his confidant.  This was one of those moments.

She sighed softly.  "Johnny... talk to your wife, talk to your doctors.  Maybe you're making too much of this, worrying that stress is the problem with Cate's infer... difficulty... in getting pregnant."  She quickly corrected herself as Jon gave her a sideways glance. 

"And maybe it really is just what it seems to be... her age.  Good grief, Jon.  Women in their twenties have unexplainable inability to get pregnant.  It shouldn't be so surprising that it's more difficult for a woman in her forties."

"You had Romeo when you were in your forties, just a little younger than Cate is now.  We didn't have any problem, remember?"  Jon raised his head to look at Dorothea.  The affection in his deep blue eyes as he mentioned their son's planned conception made her heart twinge again.

"Yes,  but he was our fourth.  Not our first."

Jon quieted again, returning his gaze to his wine glass.  He idly swirled the remainder of the wine in the bowl, his lips pursing as he watched the ruby liquid move.

"Johnny..." Dorothea's voice was gentler.  "What are you going to do, if you and Cate can't have a baby?"  She felt almost guilty asking the question, but she knew he needed to hear it.  He had always relied upon her to be honest; that was obviously why he had sought her confidence tonight.

Jon didn't answer.  He just sat staring at the wine swirling in his glass, his hand moving the foot in tiny circles against the dark granite.

"I know how much you want to have another child, Jon.  It's almost like you are determined to make this happen, no matter what."  Dorothea gave him a wan half-smile. "But Johnny... you know this is something you can't achieve just on sheer will."

Jon raised his head and turned his indigo gaze to Dorothea.  His eyes narrowed as he stared at her, comprehending the subtlety of her query.

" We're both one hundred percent on board, if that's what you mean.  Yes, I very much want to have another child, but mainly because she wants one so badly."

"And you're pursuing... alternatives?"

"We're not going to use a surrogate or adopt or something like that, if that's what you mean."  Jon's voice was flat, a hint of defensiveness creeping in.  "But yes, we will use whatever medicine or technology or voodoo that's available to us.  In fact... we've already started."

Dorothea nodded, her gaze dropping to her coffee mug.  A swallow of the dark-brown liquid remained at the bottom of the cup, but she didn't reach for it.  "So, it's probably just a matter of a few months until..."

"Yeah."  Jon sighed softly.  "Until Cate has a decision to make."  His lips curved into a slight smile.  "Hell, there's a chance she could be... if the IUI was successful..."  His smile twisted into a grimace of worry.  "And if she is, she's out somewhere tonight, chasing bad guys around with our baby in her womb.  Christ."

"You don't know yet?"

Jon shook his head.  "Cate was supposed to take a pregnancy test today when she did her labs at Dr. Klein's office.  Then she had this fucking trip come up."  He softly snorted his displeasure.  "She said in her message that the nurses squeezed her in at the lab but she has to call for the test results."  He sighed and dropped his head.  "We planned to celebrate tonight."

Ah.  And there it is... Dorothea thought.  So Jon had sought the company of her and their boys to avoid spending the evening alone with his worries.  Though she didn't mind -- Jon was always welcome in her home -- realization of the truth brought a twinge of disappointment.

"She hasn't gotten the results yet?"

Jon shrugged.  "Dunno.  She left me a message when she was on her way to the airport."

"But she just called, a little while ago.  Why didn't you talk to her?"

Jon blinked, then slowly raised his head.  He looked at Dorothea for a long moment before responding in a husky half-whisper.  "Maybe I'm not quite ready to hear the answer yet."

"Oh, Johnny..." Dorothea couldn't stop the sympathetic sigh from escaping her lips.  She tentatively reached for him, settling her hand over his muscled forearm and giving it a gentle squeeze.  She swallowed hard before continuing.  "You need to call her back.  Talk to her."

Jon nodded. "I will.  Just not now."  His hand curved over Dorothea's, his long fingers settling into the dimples of her knuckles.  He gave her a grateful squeeze.  "Let's talk about something else, okay?"

Dorothea nodded, dropping her gaze from Jon's sad eyes.  "Okay."

"How are things with you and Teddy?"

She pulled her hand gently away from Jon's, automatically wrapping it around the mug containing her now-tepid coffee.

"They're good."  Dorothea smiled weakly.  "He's busy right now, interviewing new prospective partners."

Jon nodded, raising a brow at her vague answer.  "Are you still planning to go away at the end of March?"

"Yes.  The second week of the boys' Spring Break.  If you still want to take them, that is."

Jon chuckled.  "Sure I do.  And any other week you want to give 'em to me."

"Johnny, you know you can see them whenever you want.  Just call.  Like tonight."

"Yeah.  I know."  Jon regarded his wine for a moment, then raised the glass.  The last swallow of crimson nectar slid past his lips and down his throat.  Jon settled the empty glass back onto the dark granite.  He glanced at the wide silver dial on his wrist.

"It's almost eleven.  I should go."

Dorothea nodded, automatically glancing toward the hallway leading to the apartment's bedrooms.  "Thanks again for getting them settled."  She smiled.  "It was nice having a little breathing room tonight."

Jon chuckled throatily.  "Yeah, I know they keep you hoppin'.  You're a great Mama, Dorothea.  Always have been."

"Thanks, Johnny."  Her smile gentled as Jon's blue eyes met hers.  The glow of affection in the deep indigo pools made her heart squeeze, just like they always had and probably always would.

"You know... I miss this."

"What?"

"Just sitting up, talking.  After the kids are in bed, sharing a glass of wine, catching up on our lives..." Jon chuckled softly.  "I know those moments were few and far between when we were married, but... they were the moments I cherished.  The ones I really missed when I was out on the road."

Dorothea's smile turned bittersweet, his quiet confession hitting her square in the heart.  She reached for Jon's hand, unsurprised when he turned his palm and laced his long fingers between hers.  She marveled for the millionth time at the softness of his skin and the familiar, gentle strength of his touch.

Suddenly, for just a moment, she looked into the deep blue soul of the boy she once knew.  Barely a man, shouldering the responsibilities and worries of an adult, silently begging for her consolation and encouragement to give him the confidence to carry on...

And in the blink of an eye he was gone, the vision replaced by tired, grey-blue eyes bracketed by deep worry lines and the handsome, angular face of a wise and worldly man.  A man whose insecurities remained, only deeply buried and rarely revealed.  One who could never hide his true self from her, and who still needed her to give him counsel and strength.

"Me too, Johnny."

Jon and Dorothea stared at each other for a long moment, silently sharing the melancholy memory.  It was broken when they heard the rattle of the front door's deadbolt.  Heavy footsteps thudded through the foyer and front room. 

Half a minute later Jesse shuffled into the kitchen, his book-heavy backpack slung over one shoulder.  As he rounded the corner Dorothea quickly tugged her hand from Jon's, then turned her seat to greet their eldest son.

"You're early."

"We got done early."  Jesse shrugged, then stopped when he noticed his father sitting at the breakfast bar.  "Oh, hey Dad."

"Hey, Jess."

"I didn't think you'd still be here."  Jesse shrugged again.

"I'm just leaving.  Your Mom said you wanted to ask me something?"  Jon swiveled his barstool to face Jesse and gave him a little grin.

"It can wait.  It's no big deal."  Jesse gave his father a lopsided grin, a perfect imitation of Jon's own playful smile.

"Naw, I'm here.  May as well ask."  Jon waved a hand in encouragement.  "C'mon."

Jesse chuckled.  "Well, okay.  I wanna go up to Princeton, to check out their lacrosse program."

Jon arched a brow as a little grin curved his lips.  "Ah.  And would this trip also include checking out Miss Bridget?"

Jesse dropped his chin as his grin faded to a smirk.  He shrugged as he regarded his shoes.  "Dunno.  Maybe.  If she's not busy."

Surprised by the comment, Jon shot a sideways glance at Dorothea.  He had assumed all was well between Jesse and his sometime girlfriend, one of Stephanie's classmates who was in her freshman year at the Ivy League college.  Dorothea gave Jon a stern look and a little shake of the head, a subtle warning not to push.

"Well, okay.  When do you want to go?  Spring Break?"

"I was hoping maybe next week.  They have the same break as we do, none of the players or coaches will be around if I wait."

Jon nodded.  "Okay.  This weekend let's look at your schedule, figure out when would be good.  Maybe your coach can call up and see when the coaches there are available."

"Cool.  Thanks, Dad.  I'll text you."  Jesse shuffled past his parents, headed for his room.  "I gotta hit the sack.  Practice in the  morning."

Jon grinned, swiveling his chair toward the hall as he watched Jesse's departure.  "Okay.  Night, Jess."

"Goodnight Jesse,"  Dorothea called after her son.  He acknowledged with a wave of his hand before turning into the doorway of his room.  She gave Jon a little shrug when he turned to look at her, once Jesse had closed the door.

"Trouble in Paradise?" Jon grimaced lightly.

Dorothea shook her head slightly. "Not sure.  He mentioned something about them 'seeing other people'."

Jon chortled.  "Well, can't say I'm surprised.  He's a little young to be tied down, don'cha think?  And Bridget's in college, probably enjoying all that freedom..."

"As long as he keeps focusing on his grades I'll be happy.  I don't care if he's dating ten college girls."  Dorothea chuckled.

"Could happen."

"Yeah, I know.  Just keep your fingers crossed that it doesn't."

Jon chuckled, then tipped his head as he gave Dorothea a tired smile.  "We done pretty good, didn't we? With these kids of ours?"

Dorothea nodded, her own sweet smile matching his.  "Yeah.  We did.  So far, anyway."

"Yeah."  Jon's smile turned bittersweet as he held her gaze for a long moment.  Then he sighed softly.  "I should get going.  Early set call."

"I'll walk you out."  Dorothea slid off her barstool and waited as Jon did the same.  She smiled as he automatically slipped his hand behind her, his palm settling against the small of her back.  Together they strolled to the front entry.

Dorothea watched as Jon retrieved his coat and scarf from the hall closet and donned the winter garments.  When he was bundled he turned to give her a little smile.

"Thanks again for dinner.  And for letting me hang with Jake and Romey."

"Any time, Johnny.  They love being with you."

"Me too.  Hey, listen...  I never gave you an answer about dinner on Saturday."

Dorothea shrugged.  "You don't have to answer right now.  If you want to check with Cate first..."

"No.  I'd love to, whether she makes it back or not."  Jon gave his ex-wife a gentle smile.  "I can't think of a better way to celebrate my birthday than with my family.  You wanna do it here?  Or my place?"

"Here would be easier, since all the kids will be here."  Dorothea chuckled wryly.  "But be warned, I'm gonna call a caterer."

"Fine by me."  Jon stepped close and smiled down at his former wife.  "And seriously, Dorothea... thanks.  For dinner, for the wine, for... everything."

She nodded, her smile gentling.  "Sure.  Johnny... Call her, okay?"

"I will.  On the way home."

"Good.  I really hope things work out for you both.  I mean it."

"Thanks, Dorothea."  Jon gave her a long look, then leaned to press a gentle kiss against her cheek.  "I'll call later this week.  G'Night."

"Good night, Johnny."  She watched him pull open the door and let himself out, then stepped forward to turn the lock.  After securing the door Dorothea sighed softly, dropping her forehead against the polished wood.

She stood motionless for a long moment, revisiting the evening's events in her mind.  Then she turned and headed for her bedroom.

*****

"Mercer.  New Museum Building."

Jon half-mumbled the directions to the driver as he settled into the back seat of the yellow cab.  He could easily have walked the  dozen-and-a-half blocks between Dorothea's apartment and his own, but it was late and cold.  He didn't need to show up on the set tired and with a sore throat.

Jon leaned sideways, fumbling for a moment with the bottom of his leather jacket as he reached for his phone.  He grunted a soft swear as he struggled to free the device from its holster.  Finally successful, he slumped back against the cracked vinyl seats and tapped the screen.

His heart squeezed guiltily as he saw the most recent communication stored on his iPhone, a text message from his wife.  He brushed a finger gently over the button to open the file.

Tried calling earlier, left a voice msg. Guess u r still on set. I'm here in hotel, going to work now so won't be able to talk for a few hrs. Just wanted to let you know. Listen to vmail. Love you. xoxo - C   

Jon sighed as he noted the message's time stamp -- 10:34 pm.  Like her earlier call, he had ignored the alert when his iPhone vibrated.  He had been too wrapped up in his bitter confession to Dorothea.

Jon tapped again at the screen, this time to close the text and open his voice mail folder.  As he raised the phone's speaker to his ear he turned his face to the cab window.  He stared unseeing at the passing night scenes as Cate's tired voice filled his ear.

"Hey, Baby.  It's me."  A breathy sigh filled a short pause.  "You're probably filming.  I was hoping to hear your voice, but... Well, I guess I missed you.  I just wanted to let you know I arrived safely, I'm here in the hotel.  I'm going to work soon, so it's gonna be a late night."  A throaty, wistful chuckle preceded a half-hearted attempt at a joke.  "Guess you're not the only one on vampire time tonight."

Jon's lips curved into a little smile even as his brow furrowed with concern at the sadness in her soft voice. 

"So... I didn't get a chance to call Dr. Klein's office before they closed.   I'll call tomorrow when I have a break.  But..."  She sighed again.  "I pulled up my e-record and looked at my labs.  Dr. Klein left me some notes.  I... It didn't work, Jon.  The IUI.  I'm... I'm not pregnant."

Jon swallowed hard, his eyes misting with disappointment as his heart sank.  He blinked angrily and turned his face further toward the window.

"Baby, I'm..."  Cate's voice cracked, choked with her own emotion.  "I'm so sorry.  I... I let you down.  Again."  A haunting shudder filled the deep breath that followed her apology.   Jon winced at the heartbreaking sound, as if it had come from his own lips.  "And like usual... there's... there's no reason.  Everything looks normal."  She couldn't keep the bitter sarcasm from the word.  "At least that's what his note said."

"Oh, Baby..." Jon breathed, as if he could somehow comfort her though her message was almost an hour old.  Again he felt a painful stab of guilt at ignoring her earlier call, followed by a brief respite of relief.  If he had talked to Cate earlier he wasn't sure how he would have reacted.  Especially with Dorothea looking on.

No, this was a conversation he didn't want to have in front of his ex-wife.  This was too painful, too private.  Even as a conversation that never happened.

"Anyway..." Cate cleared her throat before continuing her message.  "He wants to see me when I get back, to talk about whether we should... should try IUI again.  I... I'll know more tomorrow.  Jonny... I'm so sorry.  I just... well..."

She sighed again before continuing, her tone a little stronger.  "Okay, so.  I gotta go.  I have to get my head on straight before I go to work.  I just wanted to let you know, even though I'm probably not gonna get to talk to you tonight.  I'll try to call you in the morning.  Baby... I love you.  And I miss you.  I'll come home as soon as I can, okay?"

"I love you too," Jon murmured as another sad pause echoed in his ear.

"Okay, Jonny.  Bye."

Jon let the phone rest against his cheek for another minute as he swallowed hard, trying to contain his emotion.  Slowly he let his hand fall to his lap, settling the phone on his thigh.  He reached up to swipe the back of his hand across his eyes, then pinched at the bridge of his nose to stem the threatening tide of tears.

With a deep breath, he picked up his phone and began to type.

*****

Cate's pulse jumped at the vibration in the little bag settled against her thigh.  She remained outwardly calm as she set her glass on the cocktail table at her side.  Nonchalantly, she uncrossed her leather-clad legs and slid to the edge of the velour-covered seat.

"Excuse me, Gang.  Little Girls' Room," she announced to her table-partners.  The two young women and handsome young man nodded their acknowledgement.

"Over there."  The statuesque blonde Latina waved an acrylic-tipped hand toward the corner of the nightclub, on the far side of the dance floor.  "Don't get lost."  She gave Cate a conspiratorial wink, her smoky, sparkle-lashed brown eyes relaying her message.

Cate smiled sweetly and tucked her purse under her arm.  "If I'm not back in fifteen minutes send a search party."  She winked at her partner, then turned on her stilettoed heel.

She moved slowly, slipping through the crowd gathered around the edges of the dance floor.  Cate's deliberate movement was meant to avoid attracting attention, but her calm demeanor concealed the anxious pounding of her heart.

She knew she shouldn't be thinking about this while she was working.  Cate had always been good at compartmentalizing, about locking away her personal life and focusing on the job.  But tonight it was too hard.  She was weary and distracted, running on adrenaline and sheer force of will.  She wouldn't be able to put aside her worry until she heard from him, until she knew he had gotten her message.

Finally reaching the Ladies' Room, Cate pushed her way into a stall.  She quickly locked the door behind her and unsnapped the clasp on her sequined handbag.  Reaching past her compact pistol, she grabbed her iPhone and anxiously activated the screen.

She let out a soft, relieved sigh as she saw his name at the top of the text message.

Her scarlet-painted lips curving, Cate took a little step backwards.  She sank down onto the toilet seat, not bothering with the pretense of unclothing herself.  Her fingertip swiped over his name on the screen.

Cate -- I love you.  Don't ever doubt that.  Even when I'm a stupid prick and selfish ass.  Don't apologize. YOU didn't fail.  We will get through this, I promise.  Pls be careful, I need u to stay safe.  Call me when u can.   XXOO JB

Her eyes misted as she traced over the letter-kisses, her lips forming a whispered reply. 

"I love you too, Jonny."