I stared at Laney, my face white with shock. Then I turned and began to make my way home, blindly stumbling as if drunk.

"Hold on, Alice—you're in no shape to be walking around by yourself right now! I'll help you get home," Laney said, putting an arm around me to steady me. I stammered out a thanks, and she guided me back to my house. I don't know if anybody saw us—if we met anyone on the road, I was not in any condition to notice. Somewhere in the back of my mind I felt even more grateful it was Monday—there was no way I could bear to see Cam right then.

Laney got me into my house, and after giving me a quick look over, she helped me change into pajamas and a robe. She made a pot of tea, then sat with me on my sofa. Watching me as she took a sip of her tea, she exclaimed, "When that boy gets home, he's got a lot of explaining to do. I'm not going to let him off easily this time! I don't know what he was thinking!"

I clutched my cup of tea and slowly shook my head. "No, Laney, please don't." She looked at me in surprise, and I went on. "This is something private between him and me. I... I hate that people are taking sides. I don't understand why Cam is acting this way, why he's doing these things. But I don't want to drag others into it. Maybe he's turning out to not be such a great husband... but that doesn't mean he's necessarily a bad person. This is his hometown—you all are the people he grew up with, his family and friends. I'm just an outsider in comparison. Please don't make him out to be the bad guy. Just... just treat each of us as you did before we got married, and let us deal with this as best we can."

She thought about it for a minute. "I don't know. It seems like if he's doing wrong by you, that we should tell him that we know what he's up to and that we don't think too highly of it. But... maybe you've got a point. Maybe we should just step back and give you two space to work things out, to whatever end. Before, I'd hoped that you'd get back together, that you'd resolve whatever it was that came between you. But now...."

I sighed. "Yes. But now. It doesn't look very promising, does it?" I shook my head. "It's funny... he's been unfairly accusing me of lying and cheating, and now he's turned around and done those very things to me. The only thing that's kept me apart from Mikhail this past week has been the slight hope that maybe—just maybe—Cam and I might yet patch things up. I mean, he's been so difficult, refusing to complete the requirements for divorce, I had myself half convinced that he regretted his words and wanted to get back together. But I... I guess not."

Laney was reluctant to leave me alone, as upset as I was, but she also was needed at the café, to help prepare for the dinner rush. So she breathed a sigh of relief when, upon hearing a knock on my door, she found Mikhail standing there, violin case in hand. "Oh, thank goodness it's you," she exclaimed, letting him in. "I'm so glad to see you!"

He looked at her with bewilderment as he slipped off his snowy shoes. "That's... kind of you?"

Laney pushed him towards the sitting area of the small house. "No, no—I mean... well, perhaps it's better for Alice to fill you in. I really need to get back to work, but I didn't want to leave her alone like this. If anyone can cheer her up right now, it'll be you, so I'll be on my way and let you two talk." She gave me a quick, reassuring hug and dashed out the door.

Mikhail set his violin down and hung his coat up, then he came over and sat next to me, looking worried. "Alice? What is it? What's happened? You're as white as a sheet! Are you feeling unwell? Is it the baby? Do I need to get you to the clinic?"

I shook my head, then picked up my untouched cup of now-cold tea and rose to make more tea. I was shaking so hard though, that Mikhail immediately pushed me back down on the sofa. "Stay here, I'll make the tea. Do you want mint? Are you feeling ill?" I nodded my head, and he took my cup and went into my kitchen.

He returned a few minutes later with two cups of fragrant herbal tea. He handed me mine and sat next to me. "What was Laney talking about? Fill me in on what?"

The genuine concern in his voice finally pierced my numbness, and I started to cry. He quickly set his cup down and scooted closer, putting his arm around me. "Alice? What is it?"

Burying my face in his shoulder, I managed to wail between hiccupping sobs, "I-I was t-t-talking with Laney, and she thought C-Cam and I had m-made up, b-because she said we were so noisy in his b-bedroom last night, b-but it wasn't me!" I burst into tears again, shaking as I cried into his shirt.

He stiffened for a moment, then put his arms around me and held me tightly. "That... that bastard! What a complete sleazeball. And after everything he's said to you, too!"

"I-I had thought maybe he regretted saying those things," I sobbed, "and that was why he wouldn't go to counseling—because he didn't really want a divorce, after all. I was so wrong! Why is he doing this to me? He was always so nice to me before... before we found out I was pregnant. I'm such an idiot!"

"Shhh, no, you're not. I can't even begin to guess what's going on inside his head. I don't know if he had everyone fooled and he's really just a tremendous jerk, or if there's more to it than that. But either way, it's not your fault. You can't help it if he refuses to deal with whatever his problem is—which is what counseling would help him to do, if he'd only go."

I shook my head, still pressed against his shoulder. "It doesn't matter anymore, anyway. Whatever I thought, whatever I hoped—I was wrong. There's no hope for us now. It has to be over. He wouldn't have done that if there was any chance at all of us getting back together, I'm sure of that. I don't know why he hates me so much now, why he decided I was a liar and that I'd cheated on him. Was I not good enough for him? Not pretty enough? Was I boring to him? Maybe he really didn't like sex with me as much as with all those other girls, after all—but it's not my fault that I'm still learning... is it? Was I too slow, or too shy? I just wish I knew.... And then there's the baby—he won't even believe she's his. So I now I'll have to figure out a way to raise her on my own while still managing my farms... hire a nanny to take care of her while I'm working, maybe. I don't know.... I-I feel so overwhelmed. It really feels like it's over now. It felt like a nightmare before, but now I feel like I've woken up to find it wasn't just a bad dream—it's real. I... I feel sick and miserable and... and... pathetic and inadequate. I wish I could just go to sleep and not wake up." I started to cry again—I thought I'd cried myself out, but apparently I hadn't yet.

As I sat sobbing, Mikhail held me tightly, stroking my hair and murmuring reassuringly to me—that I was neither pathetic nor inadequate, that I was beautiful and desirable and that Cam didn't know a good thing when he had it, and that I was everything any man with an ounce of sense could ever wish for. After a while, his soothing voice and touch quieted my tears, and I leaned against him with a deep, shuddering sigh. He gently wiped the tears from my cheeks, then tilted my chin up to look into my eyes. "Alice, you are everything to me. I can't bear to see you like this—so torn up and brokenhearted because of that... that idiot. I want more than anything for you to be happy, so.... Well, I may regret this later, but for now...." Then he kissed me, so gently, so tenderly, so... lovingly.

It was what I needed more than words—more than anything—someone to love me completely and unconditionally, to be made to feel... well, special to someone. To know that at least one man found me desirable and worthy of love, even if my erstwhile husband did not. So for me his kiss was like... oh, like a gentle rainfall to a wilting flower, and I found myself responding to his touch with more ardor than any Cam had yet excited in me.

I reached up and caressed his soft, fine hair as I eagerly returned his kiss. I ran my fingertips down his cheek, feeling the faint traces of stubble along his jaw, and on down his neck to his collar before reaching back up to twine my fingertips through the hair at the back of his head, pulling him more firmly to me as I kissed him greedily. He broke away and kissed my face and neck as he lifted me in his arms and carried me to my bed, setting me down gently on the edge—kissing me all the while. He reached down and untied my robe, and I stood and shrugged out of it, letting it slip down around me. I reached up and began to unbutton his shirt as he kissed down my neck and shoulders. I felt dizzy, my senses overwhelmed by desire as I slid his shirt off his shoulders and caressed his smooth, bare chest.

I wrapped my arms around his waist, pressing my cheek against his chest. He stepped back and pulled my camisole up over my head, letting it fall to the floor as he caressed my sides and belly, then he untied my pajama bottoms and let them fall to the floor, leaving me standing naked before him. I reached my arms around his neck and kissed him, pressing my breasts against his bare skin as I ran my nails down his spine. He shivered at my touch, and pulled me firmly to him. I could feel him bulging against me, just below my navel, and felt another wave of dizziness wash over me.

Reaching the waist of his trousers, I ran my fingers lightly above the waistband around to the front, then reached down to unbuckle his belt. I undid the top button of his trousers, then unzipped them and let them fall to the floor. Still kissing him, I again reached up around his neck, tracing faint patterns on the back of his neck and running my fingers through his hair.

He slid his hands along my ribs and down to my hips, then ran his hands over my bare backside, gripping it tightly and pulling me hard against him. Grasping my right thigh, he raised it up as he pressed into and ground against me, his boxers the last remaining obstacle between us. He kissed me urgently, hungrily, down my chin and throat and to first one breast, then the other, as I ran my hands down his back, scraping my nails lightly against his skin. I reached the waist of his boxers, and slid them down until they, too, dropped to the floor.

As I tentatively reached down and lightly stroked along his shaft, he buried his face in my neck and groaned, thrusting his hips against me as he wrapped his arms around my back and crushed me to him. He lifted me up and set me on the bed, then stretched out on top of me, kissing my neck and shoulders and breasts. Cupping a breast in his hand, he took my nipple into his mouth, sucking and nipping and rolling his tongue around the hard tip. I gasped and moaned as his touch sent little shocks through my body, and I clasped his lower back with one hand while clutching his head with the other. Arching my back, I pressed firmly up to him as he pressed his erection against me in response.

He slid down and off the bed, kissing down my abdomen, around my navel and beyond, then pulled my hips to the edge and placed my legs over his shoulders. He leaned in and gently began to kiss along the wetness of my slit, spreading it open to better access the sweet spot. I gasped and tightened my grip with my legs as he caressed me with his tongue, gently nibbling and sucking until I began to feel the waves of ecstasy crashing over me. I cried out, moaning and gasping as I climaxed, shuddering in his grasp.

Once my quivering ceased and my breathing quieted, he released me and kissed me just below my navel a few times, then rested his cheek against my belly as he gently stroked my thigh. Then he rose and lifted me up, sliding me across the bed before he straddled me, leaning down to kiss me. I was startled by the taste of his kiss—sweet and a little sour and a tiny bit salty. Cam had never done anything like that to me, so I hadn't known what to expect.

As we kissed, I soon began to feel the pressure building up again in my the pit of my stomach. As I became more and more aroused, I kissed him with increasing passion, running my fingers through his hair and down his spine as before. He broke away and began to kiss down my neck, then he stopped and bit gently at my neck, sucking on the soft skin near the base of my neck as I moaned and squirmed beneath him—it was an incredibly intense sensation—and my breathing again became ragged as my need became almost unbearable.

Pulling back, he slid his legs between my thighs before rising up on his hands and knees. He reached up with one hand and caressed my cheek, looking so lovingly into my eyes that I felt as though I would melt away. Then he slipped his arms behind my legs, the backs of my knees cradled against the insides of his elbows, and leaning forward so that his stomach rested against the backs of my thighs, he gently but firmly thrust into me, still gazing into my eyes.

I cried out, throwing my arms around his neck and clutching him tightly. That one thrust brought me so close to the brink—it felt so good, so... perfect. He moved slowly at first, thrusting deeply into me and sliding back out, like a hunger that repeatedly abated and returned. Before very long, though, he picked up the pace, and his thrusts became even deeper, firmer, and faster. His eyes glazed slightly and became unfocused, as did mine, and a moment later I once again felt lost in an explosion of light and color as I cried out his name, helpless in the frenzy of an intense climax. As I trembled beneath him, clutching him tightly, he hoarsely cried out my name over and over, plunging ever deeper into me as he joined me, transported by our rapture.

He collapsed forward onto my thighs, panting and breathless. Releasing my legs, he slipped down so that he was again laying across me as we both tried to catch our breath. He kissed my neck and shoulder languidly as I traced lazy circles and figure-eights across his back and neck. After a moment, he rolled off to the side, and I nestled up against him, laying my head on his shoulder as I gently rubbed his chest.

"Alice?" he asked after he'd caught his breath again.

"Hmmm?"

"Do you have any idea how long I've wanted to do that with you?"

I shook my head. "No, how long? A year? Surely not much longer than that—we only became reacquainted a little less than a year and a half ago," I said, sleepily.

"More like twelve years," he replied, nuzzling his cheek against my hair.

I sat up and looked at him in surprise. "Since you were thirteen? You can't be serious!"

"Well, maybe not that exactly—but I've wanted to hold you in my arms and kiss you and... to know you intimately, every square inch of you, even before I really understood quite what that entailed. That's why I was so cold to you at first, you know—not because I despised you, but because I adored you from first sight... and it was overwhelming. I'd never felt so drawn to anyone before, nor have I since."

I snuggled back up against him, kissing his chest as I rested my head on it. "I always did wonder why you were so cold at first and then changed so... so suddenly." I tried and failed to stifle a huge yawn. Since we were laying diagonally on the bed, I scooted over and climbed under the blankets, and he slid underneath the covers alongside me. I curled up against him and lay my head back down on his chest, my arm across his abdomen.

"Thank you, Mikhail—for... for everything," I said as I began to drift off to sleep.

The last thing I heard as I slipped into slumber was his voice whispering softly, "I love you."