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missed looking at her. Living his life without Dana was like trying to breathe on one lung.
    The good news was that she was still wearing her wedding band. It was the first thing he checked when they got together. It made him feel safe still, but the expression on her face did not.
    She took a sip of the wine and laid the glass down with a plink. “Then you should have thought of that before you decided to jump all over Sylvia Nevins’s bones, to use your eloquent turn of phrase.”
    He sighed. There it was again—the old transgression that she kept rubbing his nose in.
    Last year he had gotten high at a party and made a move on a foxy assistant medical examiner. One thing led to the next and he ended up in her bed. Then again the following week when Dana was away on a field trip. Unfortunately, Sylvia had picked up rumors that Steve and Dana were having marital problems and wanted more than a couple of one-nighters. But when he declared that their brief affair was over, that he was still working things out with his wife, she became ballistic. To get back she left Dana a telltale phone message. That was the turning point: Dana announced that she wanted a separation.
    It was a turning point for him, too. When he learned that she had told Dana everything, Steve drove to Sylvia’s place. He had been drinking, and in a moment of rage he slapped her across the face, accusing her of trying to destroy his marriage. She shot back that he had made the move on her, and he counteraccused her of leading him on for months. None of that was important. But what pecked at his conscience was the knowledge that he had crossed a barrier—that in a weird half-conscious angry-drunk moment he had struck a woman. For weeks following that he had had disturbing dreams of violence—sometimes against Sylvia, sometimes against Dana. Dreams that mixed up nightmare details, leaching in from his casework. Dreams that had sent him to his doctor for stronger meds.
    He had apologized to Sylvia.
    He had apologized to Dana: “I feel rotten about it.”
    â€œYou mean you can’t live with the guilt.”
    â€œYeah, and I’m very sorry. It was stupid and wrong.”
    â€œAnd vengeful.”
    â€œVengeful? What are you talking about?”
    â€œDon’t go brain-dead on me. Vengeful because I want kids, and you can’t commit. So to get back for my pushing, you hop into bed with the first available bimbo.”
    â€œThat’s bullshit.”
    â€œIt’s not bullshit. You couldn’t commit to getting engaged. Then you couldn’t commit to getting married. And when you finally gave in, you declared you wanted to hold off on kids. Well, I’ve been holding off long enough. I told you it’s now or never. So, instead, you shack up with Sylvia Nevins because you don’t like ultimatums.”
    â€œStop throwing that up to my face.”
    â€œAnd stop telling me you’re working on it. It’s been twelve goddamn years. Just how much longer do I have to wait?”
    â€œYou know the reasons.”
    â€œYeah, I know the reasons. Your parents had a rotten marriage and divorce was rampant in your family, blah, blah, blah. Well, I can’t change that, Stephen, nor the fact that I’m thirty-eight years old and want a family.”
    â€œI’m sorry.” He had wanted to say more. He knew he should say more, but he couldn’t. And he heard the protest die in his throat because she was right — about all of it.
    â€œI wish she had never told me,” she had said.
    Yeah, me, too, he had thought. As he looked back, he was still amazed that he had the restraint to stop at a slap.
    â€œChrist!” Dana had flared. “She’s nearly half your age.”
    â€œDana, she means nothing to me. She’s out of my life and moved to Florida.”
    That was their exchange months ago, and since then Sylvia Nevins had taken a job in Pensacola and the last he had