He looks around him, then back down at my couch. I watch him from the kitchen as he turns from me.

What can I say to him to make this right instantly? There's nothing. There never is. Closing my eyes, I feel the rounded edges of the bottle of bourbon in my hand. My shoulders slump. For the first time in all these years with all these men, tonight I doubt I'm strong enough to hear this man's confession - to listen to what he has lost, to what he never got the chance to put straight, to the bitterness of his new knowledge.

It's never mattered to me that I'm the one-date wonder. They come to me wounded and I want to help. I'm never more than the balm, the respite just before they remember who they are and break through the confusion of their arrival in our world. In the end, I always know I'm the one who'll be left behind because I don't want more than what I have. I've never minded it; it's a convenient fit to how I view life anyway.

I always thought I could last it alone. But sometimes, life comes at you and you know nothing you ever do's going to amount to anything. I don't think I've stopped shaking inside since Ben Wade put his gun in my face. As arbitrary as life is, death's just gonna add in a bit of irony. Here I was thinking I'd been left this bookstore by the old man because I was here to help them and protect this sacred place. The Goddess has a good sense of humor.

"Maybe a bit of ice this time?" His voice comes from behind me.

I open my eyes to peer at him over my shoulder. He's leaning against the kitchen's door jamb now; his approaching footsteps from the living room unheard. "I have other liquor. And beer."

"Where'd you get the bruises?"

"A different one of you showed up yesterday. He wasn't so taken with me."

"Don't make a joke of it. You want me to talk to you? Then you talk to me."

I shake my head but smile. "Not tonight, okay?"

He frowns. Shrugs. "Bourbon's good. Need something with a bite."

My smile widens as I take a few steps toward the refrigerator to get him some ice. "Well, I did promise we'd negotiate on the biting but somehow I wasn't thinking you were talking alcohol."

I hear him chuckle; it's soft and tired. I look at him as I close the freezer. He's remembered the banter from earlier, when he thought he was coming up here with me and Uma to have a racy bit of sex. That was before he saw his DVD; before it rocked him hard.

His eyes widen the moment I waggle my brows at him. "Don't start down that road if you're not willing for me to pick it up."

"You hungry? I could whip up some dinner for you."

"First, it's biting. Now it's whipping? What'd I get myself into?"

"You'd be surprised."

His eyes drop from mine as he sips his bourbon. He sighs.

"C'mon. Let's go sit." I put my hands on his chest and turn him around then push him toward the living room. "You don't have to talk. Or you can talk forever. I'm easy. But I'm not letting you go away from here in this mood."

At the last minute, he resists my gentle pushing. I run into his back before I realize it. "I'm not looking to drink alone. Seems to me you could use one, too."

I'm glad he didn't continue the damaged double entendres we'd been doing with such a half-ass attempt at being clever. If he had, he'd have said something like 'you could use a stiff one.' For some reason, it endears me to him. This is a solid man on a shaky platform. "You go relax. It'll take me a minute to fix myself a drink. I'll join you."

By the time I make it to the couch, he's looking a bit more relaxed. He watches me walk in. His arm's lounging along the back of the couch. I sit down just out of reach, pull my feet under me, face him and sip my drink. I've opted for a glass from the only open bottle of red wine.

"What's the most common question we ask you?" He licks his lips and just stares at me, frank and adult.

"Why me." He nods when I say this. I wonder if he's relieved he's not alone in the feeling an injustice has been done in yanking him from his reality into this one. I wonder, as I always do, how I'd react if it ever happened to me.

"Am I a freak?"

"That's usually high up there in the questions."

"No, I was looking for an answer."

"I suppose you are. But it's not a bad thing. Is it?"

"You wouldn't know, though, would you, what it's like? So maybe..."

"Well, I think I do. But that's a whole other story."

"Did it scare you? The first time one of us just showed up, I mean." He looks at me, still steady, now over the rim of his glass.

"No. And I never thought to ask him if it scared him. Does it scare you?" I put my hand on his elbow, the one lounging on the back of the couch. He shrugs. "How does it make you feel?"

"I don't like feeling I don't have a handle on this situation." His jaw works side to side.

"Something I can relate to. I hate feeling like my life's not mine to control."

"That guy in the movie?"

"You mean you?"

"It was me but it's someone I haven't been yet. Last I checked, it was 1971 and I was struggling through night school. Taking down junkies while I'm trying to pass my bar exams."

"I'm not sure I know what you mean - this wasn't about your life?"

"Part of it's the life I led. Part of it's a life I never got to."

"So you never..."

"I never made that case. Never got the chance."

"Whoa. That's not good. How's that make you feel?"

He moves in closer to me after taking a moment to consider my question. I pull back, sip my wine and watch him. He slides his hand along the back of the couch. He doesn't stop coming closer until that hand can touch tentatively along the hair at my temple. "I resent being shoved through some time warp before I can be him. On the other hand..."

"Yes?"

His voice has dropped so low. Rich. Textured. Seductive. I feel it just as much as I hear it. "On the other hand, there's other options in this life if I know what I'm capable of...Maybe other advantages..."

He's touching my hair, playing with it. Leaning in toward me. I put my hand on his chest. "Just so you know...I don't make it a habit to be with them...with you..."

"But tonight...you'll make an exception?"

This quick? Really? He thinks all it takes is this tiny bit of time and I'm gonna just...

"Or maybe not." He leans back, sips his drink, looks at me, a knowing assessment in his eyes. After all, it's not like I put up any resistance to the suggestion. He reads the situation between us clearly, even if he's having trouble dealing with the reality of finding himself adrift from all he once knew.

"Do women ever tell you no?"

He chuckles and his hand now drifts down my arm until he can play with my fingers. "It has been known to happen. But usually they gotta get to know me better first."

"I actually think I know you pretty well, don't you?"

"Do men ever tell you no, Ann?"

I laugh. The first real laugh I've had since the day before. I give him a little chuck across his jaw. "They do. Oh, yeah. Thanks for reminding me."

Before I know what's happened, he's got a hand between my knees. He doesn't do anything but tickle the skin there with his fingertips. But that evil look in his eyes looks a lot like hunger.

This fast? You'd better be careful. Remember, you said...

"One condition." My voice is a whisper. His lips touch my neck. "It goes no further - it's just this..."

"This can be good..."

"Oh, it can be so good..." My breath catches at the touch of an educated tongue on my salty skin.

"I want to be you tonight."

"I don't want to be alone tonight."

"I got what you need..."

"I want to be safe tonight. You got what it takes, Richie?"

He takes my drink from my hand and puts it next to his on the coffee table. Then simply turns toward me and reaches for my lips while I'm reaching for his. The kiss turns into a wrestling match - arms and hands everywhere trying to drag clothes off while he's also pushing me down onto the couch.

Whatever else I feel, and I do feel a lot of things for him, I never once let him out of the category of "them." Them are the men drawn here for a reason we don't understand but we do accept and celebrate. There's only ever been one of them with whom I've wanted more than I got. All these years since I met him and I still burn the torch of unrequited longing for what will never be explored between us. He never once has seen me as anything more than the one-date wonder.

There was a divine moment with Richie, though. It came when I was wearing nothing but my bra and he'd just looked up at me from where his tongue had been buried. "I like a woman who knows how to come for me." His voice was so husky.

I laughed, a release of endorphins or whatever it is that good sex does for you. I was still laughing even as he began entering me. When I gasped and opened my eyes, he was smiling down at me. It was a satisfied smile that will always be something I remember as uniquely him.

In the morning, I'm out of bed before him. He comes in the kitchen all sleepy and cuddly. It's Thanksgiving morning and I'm doing the cooking for the feast later in the day.

When I tell Richie to get out of my way, he moves in behind me. I swat him with a wooden spoon and he puts me in a bear hug, whispering hoarsely in my ear while pulling me into his body, showing me his need.

Ralph shows up later to find out what last minute shopping he'll have to do for me. I've showered and the bird's in the oven. He glances around the apartment. He knows something's happened but he won't guess. I've gotten too good at one-night stands and keeping my private business private. But Ralph's not worried about anything I may get up to here in my own place. He only worries about my nights away, in other cities, searching for something that for the last month or so has become almost an obsession. If he knew about the book I use those nights, he'd be ashamed of me. I don't feel shame, though. I'm only troubled that the hunger is never eased and only grows with each encounter.

When Ralph gets back from buying the groceries I always forget, he lounges on the couch, watching parades and giving me a running commentary on the upcoming football games. It feels good again. I realize with genuine amusement I'm not carrying fear around with me - the fear of Ben Wade and how he made me face death that way. In this new day, I am too filled up with how good it feels to be anticipating a day spent celebrating with friends and my brother under the roof given to me years ago by an old man who believed I had something special inside me.

Ralph's the one who answers the door when Jack Corbett and Richie Roberts show up finally. I'd invited them the day before, after we watched Richie's film with him and I was feeling particularly sad over the Thanksgiving he spent alone in the film.

They come bearing flowers for me and wine for the table. I'm putting the flowers in a vase when Richie comes in the kitchen to find me.

"They're beautiful. Thank you." I smile at him.

His hand cups my cheek and he leans in to plant a slight kiss on my lips. "I hope you know how much that meant..."

"My brother's just out there. I'd rather he not know...I'd like you and him to be friends. You know?"

Richie pulls back, glances through the opening over the counter that looks in on the living room where Ralph and Jack are talking with John Nash and Kathy, our new arrivals. "Can I see you again? Maybe tonight?"

"Probably not. I'm really only good for one date."

"That wasn't a date. Let me ask you out on a proper one."

I put my hand on his face, lean up to kiss him slowly. "Maybe some other time?"

We look at each other just long enough for him to know: if it happens again between us, it won't be planned and it won't be cheap but it won't be leading to anything.

Restless hearts know when they need to not look back.