After he's been home for three days or so, he decides it's time to have The Talk with Tyler and Lily. At his request, I'm there, too, and even Jaden and Emily, for I think although they're both too small to fully comprehend what's going on, he feels better talking about this in front of them, too. After all, we're a family, and as Tyler always points out, "families stick together". He asked his parents if they wanted to join us, but they declined, saying we needed to talk this through on our own. I think what he's planning on doing is talking to them alone as well, and then eventually it will be my turn.

We all gather in the den, strategically positioned: the older children facing their dad, with me kind of alongside him but not, so we're more in a circle and the kids don't feel like they're in front of a tribunal. The twins are both in their swings, contentedly rocking back and forth, which we did on purpose so they wouldn't get fussy and be a distraction.

Both of them somehow sense something is up. Usually our conversations are very informal, taking place around the table or on our bed before they go to sleep. This is different, and I sense their apprehension. Lily more so than Tyler. Tyler's just naturally curious. Lil's my deep thinker, sometimes emotionally wise beyond her years, and I think she's worrying we're still going to get a divorce. We've been especially close, Russell and I, since he came back, and that's been demonstrated in front of the kids, but she can see the serious expression on our faces and I'm pretty sure that's what she's thinking. It's all I can do to let him do the talking and not immediately jump in to reassure.

"You both know, when I was gone to America, your Mum was pretty upset," he starts out. Sure, blame it on me. But, I can see why he's started out this way, since they witnessed my side of things and my attempt to gloss it all sort of over.

"She missed you, Dad." Tyler's always such a cheerful child, but he's the first to comfort anyone who's sad or hurt, and I love his sweet sympathy. Lily nods in agreement. "She missed you way lots," she adds.

"I missed her...I missed all of you...but that's not the only reason she was upset." He looks down at the floor between his feet, then at me, and when I give him a small, encouraging smile, he goes on, "I got into some trouble while I was there."

Both of the kids just blink and wait expectantly. He adds, "I wanted to call home and talk to you but the phone wouldn't work right. So then..." I know this is hard on him. It was hard for him to recount it with me that time he called, and I think this is almost more difficult, since these are our children and he's got to put the whole incident in terms they will be able to understand. "...I went to go try to get it fixed. Or get a new one. And they wouldn't help me."

"That's not very nice." Lily's remembering what I told her, of people being mean to her father. Tyler nods. Russell goes on.

"So I got mad. It was important that I talk to Mum, so she'd know I was all right, and not worry about me. I got so mad, that I threw the phone and it hit the wall."

Their eyes are huge. Finally, Tyler says, "You said not to hit and throw stuff." They're both pretty even-tempered, but have gone through those phases of sibling rivalry and being small terrors at times, and he especially had a problem with venting his feelings. He's gotten better at this but I wonder for an instant if he got that from his dad. I'm glad he's remembered what we tell him; unfortunately, he seems to recall these bits of parental wisdom at slightly inopportune times. I feel badly for my husband as he's properly chastened by his three year-old son.

"I know I did, and that's why it's even worse. Because it's wrong to tell you not to do something because it's bad, and then do it myself." He looks right at them. "I'm your dad, and I'm supposed to be a good example for you, and I wasn't. And for that, I'm sorry, kids, all right?"

They both nod, so solemn. Lily's musing this in her mind. "Did you break the phone?" she wants to know.

"Did you break the wall?" Tyler, despite himself, is interested in tallying up the damage. I'd be amused if only this wasn't ultimately very serious.

"I broke the phone, and banged up the wall. And..." he's struggling with explaining, "the phone accidentally hit a bloke and hurt him." 

Now their eyes are practically bulging. "But it was an accident," Lily says.

"Yes, it was an accident. I didn't mean to hurt him. But he was upset." 

"Did you say sorry?" Tyler's big thing is apologizing. He's at that age, you know, but I almost wish he suddenly wouldn't be so astute as I can see how it's affecting Russell. "Did you, Daddy?"

"Yeah. But he was so upset he called the police." That was the most difficult thing to admit to them, I think. 

"But if you said sorry and you didn't mean to why would he do that?" Lily asks.

"I don't know, Lil. I reckon if it'd happened to me or if someone did that and hurt any one of you or Mum, I'd feel like doing the same thing." He looks down at the floor again and then at them to gauge their reaction. They're both unnaturally silent. I ache for all of us but don't know what to say right now to make things better.

"Did you go to jail?" Oh, Tyler, why do you have to be so bright? I lament. Although I'm proud of the emotional maturity of my oldest kids, this is one of those times I wish the questions weren't flowing so freely, for my husband's sake. I'm proud of his courage and his honesty, though, two traits he's always had and will never lose.

"Yes," Russell says. Lily gasps, tears in her big brown eyes, and Tyler looks astonished. "But you're not a bad person, Daddy!" she says adamantly. Now what I told her is beginning to click and I can see how upset she is at his unsettledness. "You're not," Tyler adds.

"He's not a bad person," I break in quietly, unable to keep still any longer. They swing their gazes to me. "We know that, don't we? What he did was wrong. But he is not a bad person. And I think it's important that you don't think the police were bad, either, because they were doing their job. And the man's not bad (this is hard for me to say, because it's easy to think of him as The Enemy), because he was hurt and angry, too."

"You shouldna done that, Dad," my son tells him with his typical bluntness. Russell gets a small wry smile. "Yeah, I know that now, don't I?"

"Are you still in trouble?" Lil asks. Russell sighs and nods. "Yeah, but we're working that out and I think things will be all right." 

There's no way in hell either one of us is going to tell them he could possibly go back to jail, if found guilty of the assault charge, for a longer period of time; or he will end up paying off the guy, or he could be banned from working in the United States. My family's there and I know if they heard that the first thing that would go through their young, worried minds is they would never see any of them again. Fortunately, they leave it at that.

"I'm telling you this," he says, "because I believe it's important for you to know that I was wrong. That I made a terrible mistake. That it's bad, like I said, for me to tell you that you shouldn't do something and then act like it's all right for me to do it, because it's not. And because we need to share this as a family, you and me and Mum and the twins. And mostly because I'm very sorry and I want you to know that." His gaze strays to me and I feel my heart twist at the misery I can see deep within his eyes. "All of you."

"But Daddy, I love you." This from Lily, who's looking at him with the same deep adoration she's always had.

"I love you, too, Dad." This from Tyler. Russell was worried that they'd both be disappointed in him, but I knew they wouldn't be. He hasn't toppled from any pedestal because they never put him on one in the first place. We've worked very hard since they were small at keeping their lives normal, realizing the humanness in everyone, the humanness and the humaneness. They have it better than some kids, materialistically, but we've strived so much to keep them firmly grounded in reality, and I think between his background and mine they have a unique perspective on both sides. They're both up barreling into his arms before I know it. He hugs them so, so tight and I can sense he's grateful that's out in the open.

Over their small heads, his eyes meet mine and I can see that even though we worked this out with them, we still need to work it out, thoroughly out, with each other. We both know that will take a bit more effort. And it will be soon.

It's taking everything I have within me not to begin to push Russell to talk to me about things. Out of all of us, I realize that he feels the most fear, realistically or unrealistically, towards my disappointment and possible shame, but what he's got to understand is, I'm also his life partner, the one who willingly made that commitment to stand beside him throughout life's pitfalls, as did he me. And that I love him no less for what he's done. He's highly protective of me and our children, and I see this as a defense mechanism for him, that he feels he's protecting me again when really what he's starting to do is slowly shut me out once more. And that is highly dangerous, because this is exactly how he behaved after we lost our first child that one time, and it nearly cost us our marriage. I'm a coward, though, because what I should do is immediately confront him with it and get it all out in the open, but I can't, because a part of me is afraid of hurting him even further, even though I know that by keeping it all from me, he's actually hurting himself.

Ironically, as I mentioned, our relationship on the surface seems so wonderful. As parents, we're both united in our care of the kids, and they're thriving with him home once more. The twins are rapidly growing and it's a joy to see their development progress nearly daily. Lil and Tyler are just as they've always been with their daddy and he showers them with attention and affection. As does he with me but in those rare moments when we really see each other I can so clearly interpret his lingering doubt over my thoughts and feelings towards all of this and his fear I'm going to eventually call him out on it. As he can read my increasing frustration and what he thinks is my mounting disappointment in him, when really what I'm disappointed in is that he seems to not be able to trust me fully and put it all out there for us to deal with.

He's been home a week when I see my opportunity to bring this thing to a head and get the air cleared once and for all. He's told me he's going to Sydney briefly, because he's accepted an offer to appear on a talk show there and explain his side of things. Now, why he can do this on national television in front of millions of strangers but he can't do this to me yet, I'm not sure, but I tell him I'm going with him. I don't ask, I tell. Surprisingly, he doesn't object, although I think he senses that things are about to come out in the open. Maybe he's glad I'm beginning to force the issue.

Even though the twins are older and weaned from breastfeeding, I still feel badly about leaving all four of the kids with the family, but Russell's parents urge me to go. I think they realize this will be the critical point for us. They assure me everything will be fine, and since it's only for a few days at the very most, I agree. So it's off to Sydney, the two of us settling alone in our apartment for the taping of the show the next day. It's in front of a live audience but will air later in the evening. Things aren't awkward between us but they're decidedly strained somewhat. This is the first night I think since he returned we don't make love, as if there's a line drawn in the sand and neither of us dares cross it yet. Although he holds me close to him in his arms and I gratefully let him.

The next morning, we get ready to go to the studio. The audience is already gathered outside waiting to go in, and greet us eagerly---I think Russell's still the favorite 'native son', so to speak, and they're clearly on his side. I can see his relief that he's not facing a crowd like the one in New York when he was arrested, as he pauses to briefly talk to people, shake hands and sign a few autographs. He's content for now being a movie star when what I want to do is hit him upside the head and make him start behaving more like my husband that I know and love. The one who trusts and confides in me, the one who loves me without reservations or doubt. I want him back, damn it.

He gets readied and soon enough, they're bringing him on out. I watch from the green room on a monitor. The host is one whose show he's been on countless times before; they go way back, even before me, and he's comfortable and confident.

After the usual little bits about his most recent project and exchanging anecdotes about the kids, just tiny things that neither of us mind him sharing, the subject changes to the incident in New York. Russell apologizes and I can see by the subtle shift in his demeanor he truly means it. He's careful in what he says and I think everyone can feel his remorse.

"How's the wife feel about that, Russell?"

He has the good grace to look somewhat sheepish, knowing I'm watching and listening. "Well, you know she's here with me, in the studio, backstage."

"So what did she have to say about all this?"

"She's...my wife's remarkable, Andrew. She's always been there for me and she's with me now. I hate disappointing her. I hate knowing that she's been hurt by things I say or do."

Damn it, it's not the airing of our dirty laundry in public, because he's said nothing that I'd be embarrassed about, but I'm still hurt he can't look right at me, one on one, and say what he needs to. "Mike me," I tell one of the stagehands.

"What?" She's dumbfounded. 

"Put a mike on me or whatever you people do! I'm going out there. I don't want you to tell Russell and I don't want you to warn Andrew, just mike me and let me out there." Everyone within earshot looks at me in admiration. One of them clips a microphone to my shirt and helps me adjust that portable battery pack for it on my waistband of my jeans, at my lower back. Another briefly powders my nose and then, taking a deep breath, I walk out as if I'd just been introduced.

The audience titters; Russell stops in the middle of his praise of me and the host quickly composes himself. "And here she is right now!" 

Everyone applauds as the two men get up. I act as if the entire thing was planned, trying to ignore the slight confusion in both of their expressions. "Hi, Andrew, nice to see you," I say evenly, giving him a polite hug and letting him kiss my cheek. Russell's stood out of courtesy but he's got that unreadable look in his face now. I sense apprehension and a slight tinge of anger. I hug him and kiss him, gently, while the audience is now whistling in approval at our show of affection. Another stagehand hurriedly puts a chair beside his on stage and I sit there, automatically reaching for his hand. He hangs onto it as though it were a lifeline although he gives it a warning squeeze.

"Andrew, you asked what I thought about all of this, and I just want to go on the record." I look at him, once more letting everything I feel about him shine forth in my eyes. "I love this man. He has his moments, as do most men..." the ladies in the audience laugh in sympathy, "...but he is my strength and he is my heart. And despite what's gone on, I could never be disappointed in him. Never." I say, directly to him now, "I love you, Russell."

He can't help it, he leans over and kisses me and the crowd is on their feet applauding us. I think that went well. Now there's a touch of admiration in his gaze.

I hardly remember much about anything else except the host wishing us well in life, with the kids, and in our marriage. When the two of us exit the stage, still hand-in-hand, the stagehands, especially the female ones, look touched and a couple are even dabbing tears. Everyone has nothing but warm praise and I feel I did the right thing.

"She's amazing!" one of the camera guys tells Russell.

He looks at me with that wry look and I know we're finally going to have that conversation when we get home. "Yeah, she's truly something, I'll tell ya," he responds.

Throughout the usual requisite pleasantries at the television studio after our unexpected dual interview, and the drive back to the apartment, Russell's very silent, although he's still holding onto my hand tightly as if to let me go would mean to literally let me go, away from him. If anything, my sudden interruption of his TV moment will provoke conversation, not only between us but all of Australia, I imagine. I shun the publicity that usually follows him around but felt this was a worthy exception, deliberately putting myself out there and publicly stating my feelings for my husband. I'm tired of being the long-suffering wife, figuratively speaking, and decided this was the best way to take matters into my own hands and let him and the world know how I feel.

So far, I'm unable to gauge his true feelings, but, good or bad, it will work itself out. I've had enough experience with him; feel secure enough in our love to know that.

We're safely ensconced back home when he finally asks me, "What was all that back there?" His tone is even although I can see a bunch of emotions burning in his eyes.

"That was me, standing by you," I explain, quietly.

"I don't need you to fight my battles for me, Liss." He sighs tiredly. "And on television, no less." 

Now I'm getting angry. "No, you don't NEED me to HELP you fight your battles. But what about WANTING me to? What about just needing me, period? And as far as doing it publicly, why is it you can say things, personal things, to millions of unseen people, when you can't say them directly to me?"

He looks sufficiently remorseful but I refuse to back down, not now. It's too important to leave alone. "Talking about 'being in a dark place' and how terrified you are of disappointing me...can't you tell ME these things? I am the one person you SHOULD be telling this to. Do you know how alone this makes me feel? Don't you remember the other times you shut me out?" My voice drops to a whisper. "Don't you trust me?"

"I do trust you, Lissy." He looks at me with such naked, raw emotion in his eyes. "I trust you with my heart. My soul. I'm so fucking terrified of disappointing you. I don't want to lose you. I never wanted to hurt you."

"Damn you, you're NOT going to lose me! Look at all we've gone through...look at what we've handled, together...can't you get it through your thick head that I'm in this with you, forever? I didn't vow to love you, with exceptions. It's an unconditional thing, you idiot. Lily's only five and she gets what it's all about." I'm livid that I have to explain any of it to him. But I'm not livid AT him, only that he's this far gone, this low, that he would ever question me or my motivation. I'm pissed off once again at the people and the situations that have unfairly made him out to be this sort of raging monster. I'm angry that there are people out there who believe it. I'm furious that there really isn't much I can do about it, either, except try to combat it with so much goodness, so much love, that it wipes out the rest of it. "I didn't say, 'look, I promise to love this man only if this and this and this happens. That if he doesn't follow through, I'm outta here.' If you remember, I promised to love you always. There wasn't a list of conditions. There wasn't an ultimatum. Just me, giving you my heart. Just me, asking for yours. That was it. I don't expect any conditions from you, either, just that you stand beside me in life and help me through the tough times. Like I'd do for you. That's all. And if you don't fucking get that after all this time, then everything we've worked for means nothing." I'm glad we have privacy, and that the children aren't around, because if anyone heard us fighting like this, it'd be all over the globe by the time we finished. And Lily, bless her, would definitely be worried about our marital status, and if there's one other thing that really upsets me, it's the fact she even thought about that at all. I know it just needs to get out there and dealt with, and I think Russell does too, but it's the getting there that's a somewhat painful process.

"I know you've got feelings about this, Liss. Feelings you haven't begun to tell me about..."

"Oh, don't go turning this back on me! Don't! I'm guilty, just as guilty as you of not opening up, I know, but I've waited for you to confide in me, to talk about all of it, and you haven't! Instead, you've gone and told half the world, but you won't even talk of it with me, in private. And that hurts me more than you know." I'm trying valiantly not to cry.

"You know how I feel. You know what this has done to me."

"Yes, I do. But maybe I would like to hear you tell me. Maybe you've got pain somewhere inside, that you won't let anyone touch, and I need to hear you talk about it. I'm not like them, Russell. I'm not going to judge; I'm not going to condemn you. I just want to help you. I just want to love you. Is that so much to ask?"

He shakes his head. His 'image' is usually so much bigger than himself that when I look at him like I am now, where he's completely vulnerable and starkly human, I feel for him, trying to live up to something that's totally unrealistic. "All right, you want to know how I feel. I'll tell you." Everything that's been bottled up inside of me since I first heard of all of this comes bubbling out. My words trip and fall over one another although I try not to sound as if I'm blaming him, because that's not my objective here.

"I'm not disappointed in you, sweetheart. Maybe in some things you've done, but I'm sure I've disappointed you at times, too. What I AM disappointed in is that you haven't opened up yet to me, but I guess that's all about to change." I take a deep breath. "I'm upset at what this has done to all of us. I'm upset that I don't know what's going to happen, and what this could still yet do to us. I missed you and I needed you and then this whole mess occurred and all I could think of is what in the hell were you thinking! All right? I was mad at first, and I think I deserved to be!  You put yourself in jeopardy, you gave all those assholes out there another reason to jump on you, and you didn't once stop to consider what this would do to us! To the kids!" I think that's the primary reason I've been so heartbroken over this entire incident. How this affects our children.

"What's going to happen if, god forbid, you have to go to jail? In the States? How would I take care of them by myself? The twins are only babies still...they wouldn't even get a chance to know you! I appreciate your trying to make things right with the others, but Tyler...he's so impressionable...you don't know how often I've told him, since you talked to them, that what you did was wrong, and...and..." Okay, I've finally lost my self-control, and I'm crying now. I know he hates when he makes me cry, but I can't keep any of it in any more. "And you can't imagine what it is like having our daughter come up to me and ask me if we're getting divorced! Do you know what that does to me, that she would witness things and draw that conclusion? Do you?"

Russell pales and looks both shocked and horrified. "Lily asked you if we were getting a divorce?"

I close my eyes, reliving that moment, remembering the absolute fear in her face and the way that squeezed my heart. When I open them, I look directly at him. "It was before you came home. But she didn't know what was wrong, only that something was, and so she naturally came to that conclusion, that that was the only way we were solving whatever problems she thought we were having," I explain, miserably.

"She knows that's not true, right?" he wants to know. 

"Of course she knows that's not true!" I throw my hands up in exasperation. "But, it's the fact she even thought that in the first place that makes me angry! And I know she worries about you now. She asked if you were going to jail, and I honestly didn't know what to tell her. Russell, I can't lie to her. I had to tell her that we didn't know yet what was going to happen but that we both loved her and would take care of her and the rest of them like always. And that we would work out anything that came up, just like we always have." My gaze could shoot lasers; it's now that pointed at him. "Was I right in telling her that, or not?"

"Jesus Christ, you shouldn't have to ask me that, Lissy." Now he's looking angry himself. I'd rather that, though, than his sort of complaisant apathy he's been showing. Not that he doesn't care but he's been acting like it'll simply all go away and it won't. 

"No, I shouldn't. But it's the fact that I feel I have to that's another reason I'm pissed off." We stare at each other for a long, long moment. There's this deafening silence between us where I can actually hear the sound of his breathing and the clock on the wall ticking. I wonder if he can hear the racing of my heart. "I'm so sorry," he says finally.

"I know you're sorry. You've been trying to make it up to me and apologizing for it since you came home. I don't need that, I don't want that. I just want you to be able to give me your complete and honest trust and open yourself up to me." I take a gulping breath that then comes out in a sob. "God, I want you to realize that no matter what, I'm solidly right beside you." I reach out and touch him, lay my palm along his cheek. He covers my hand with his and holds it against him. "I love you. That hasn't changed and it's not going to change. And that's why I went out there today and told the world."

"Thanks for that, Liss." He's tugging on my hand now, reaching for the other one, pulling me towards him, and I can't resist. I let him bring me into his arms and hold me. His big body's trembling and I can feel him touching me, caressing me, his face pressed against the top of my head. I think he might be crying but you know what, I don't care. To me, it takes more courage to be able to let go of your emotions that way than to keep them all locked away where no one can see them. "I'm scared," he confesses. "I'm so scared. I've thought a lot about it. What could happen, how we're gonna keep things together if the worst goes on. I'm worried about you and the kids. About Mum and Dad. I stuffed up badly, Lissy. That was fucking stupid. I'm fucking stupid."

Although at times I might agree with that sentiment, letting him continue to punish himself over this is what's fucking stupid. It doesn't change what he did and it won't make it right. It won't let us start to heal and it won't make us better. "You're only human," I tell him. "Yeah, that's right; you're a mere mortal like the rest of us." I sigh. "Now, if we could get the rest of the world to realize that, it would be a major miracle." Tilting my head, I look up at him. "But we know what's real." It's become a mantra between the two of us.

"We know for sure what's real." Of course, at this moment, reality isn't all that pretty, all neatly packaged with a pretty bow on top. But then, too, reality is four loud, energetic, sweet but imperfect children, a house that might not always be as tidy as I'd like, dirty diapers times two, breaking up fights and wiping runny noses. It's not awards and flashbulbs and movie premieres. The reality for us might be a little better than most, but it's still what it is. It's real and it's all ours. "Yep," I tell him. I imagine he's thinking the same thing because he has a slight smile now and a faraway look in his eyes. "We do."

"I'm so very proud of you," I say.

He looks at me, a little bit surprised. After my emotional outburst of just a moment ago, I don't think that was what he was expecting. "You are?"

"Yeah, I am. Every time some horrible thing like this goes around, rumors get spread and lies get told, every morning, when you wake up and get on out into the world and your head's held high and you go through the day with dignity, I'm proud of you. Because I don't think I could do that."

Russell kisses the tip of my nose. "Yes, you could. You're strong and you've got a hell of a lot of courage." He smiles. "Fucking feisty, too, I might add."

"I thought my knees were going to give way and I was going to collapse, when I walked out there today and all those people were watching me," I confess.

"Well, you didn't look it. You swept in like you owned the place, gave me confidence and my own courage. Especially when you said what you did." Now he's got that teasing look on his handsome face. "Though maybe Andrew won't let me bring you along ever again."

"I think we were a hit." 

He chuckles. "YOU were a hit. You had that audience in the palm of your hand." Very softly he adds, "If anyone was wondering how you felt towards me, I reckon it's all out there now."

"I could go out there right now," I gesture to the outside terrace overlooking the Harbour, "and shout it to the world again, if you want." 

He kisses the corner of my lips, tenderly. "I'd rather you just say it to me again, right this moment." 

Just between us, I tell him, "You're my strength. And my heart. And I love you, Russell Crowe..."

He lifts me literally off my feet and holds me close, capturing my mouth with his. I feel the bond connecting us even more securely than ever. When he slowly sets me down, letting me slip along the entire length of his body, he's got that unmistakable twinkle in his eye and I feel my heart skip a beat or two. "We're alone, how 'bout I give you a sort of mini-bunnymoon?" he offers.

"I would like that, very much," I respond. What is real, what is certain, is the right here and now. And I don't know about him, but I'm sure determined to hang onto that, to capture and nurture each precious moment I have with him for as long as I can. I don't know when or if that will change and I don't especially want to dwell on that, but we can both concentrate on the present and make it the best we can. And I'm fine with that for the time being.

The world narrows every time he touches me. What normally seems so vast and so complicated melts away and it's down to me and him and that's all.

Russell's truly not larger than life, and I of all people understand that. But, when you're around him, he radiates so much natural intensity, so much personal charisma, that you're instantly drawn to him, like a moth to a candle flame. I don't think it's something he's conscious of, because I know in more private moments he'd want to turn that off if he could. But from the very first, I realized he was different, in a good sort of way. When he's in a room, people gravitate towards him, and even if we're in a large room together but apart from one another, I can pretty well sense where he's at by the feel of his presence, if that makes sense. Whereas some people would find this potentially distracting, I find it comforting, especially where I'm much more reticent than he is.

He's also a very gifted person, extremely talented, an artist in every sense of the word (as Lily says, bet you'd expect me to say that because I'm his, but even if I weren't I'd still feel the same way), and I wonder if this aspect of him is what drove him to the breaking point in this whole maddening affair. He is incredibly focused, whether that be at the time acting, music, whatever, and I'm thinking it's that natural driving intensity that might have caused him to react in a truly spectacular manner. Not, you understand, that I'm still excusing this, but it makes a weird sort of sense if you look at it from that perspective.

However, right now, as we're lying entwined on our bed in our Sydney apartment, the late afternoon sun still filtering in through the gauzy curtained window, I'm thinking he's gifted and talented in another sort of way. He's got the bunnymoon concept down extremely well, I have to say.

It's like I mentioned before, things take on this deeper, more profound dimension when we're troubled or after we've just cleared the air about something. I'm stronger with him than without him. And I believe he's finally come to realize the same thing about me. He knew it all along, but after what I told him today, I think he comprehends truly the depth of my love and commitment to him. It's so easy, after all this time, to take it for granted or become almost lackadaisical about the entire thing and I think this drives home the point that having someone's heart and trust is something you can't take lightly at all.

I watch him as I lay there, his hand gently tracing the fine white line of my cesarean scar from giving birth to Emily and Jaden, and I can't understand how he could be pegged as a violent man. An abusive man, even. Especially not towards me. I touch the top of his head to get him to look up, and when he does, I draw him up to me. Now it's my turn to search his eyes, because I don't want to see any doubt, and while I still spy a hint of worry, concern for all of us, there's nothing negative there that's because of me, and I'm so grateful.

"I love you," I tell him, and he smiles. I've missed the incredible beauty of his smile, although I've seen it at rare times since he came home, but usually it was fleeting, sort of like the sun coming out momentarily from behind a rain cloud. "I love you," he answers back. He's drinking his fill of me with his eyes, and while having him simply watch me is nice, it's not what I want right now. "Are you only going to look, or are you going to partake as well?" I tease him.

"Oh, I'll take whatever you're willing to give me, love." He brushes a light, brief kiss over my mouth, grinning when I make a frustrated sound and attempt to pull him closer for more.

"All...you can have it all...anything you want..." He raises an eyebrow. "Anything? All of it?"

"Yes...just come here and start something, damn it." 

Laughing now, he rolls neatly against me, into my arms. "Greedy, aren't we?"

I tousle his hair. "Needy's more like it." 

He kisses me in my sensitive spot, just below my earlobe, and looks all satisfied when I shiver, a little. "I love this after we fight, it really spices things up. We should probably get into it more often."

He's feeling confident if he can joke about it. He knows it was serious but he knows the worst of it is behind us now. I shake my head. "Takes too much energy. I can think of other things I'd rather conserve that for..."

"Yeah?" This murmured against my neck; he then gently nips right there, at the junction between it and my shoulder. Then back up to lick where my pulse is beating. "Mmm. Do that again."

"Like this?" He repeats it and I sigh. "Oh, yes, exactly like that." 

Planting a kiss in the hollow of my throat, he then moves down and buries his face between my breasts, his hands curving up to cup and caress them. I love that, the hedonistic joy he takes in my body, worshipping it in his own way. His beard is slightly rough, because it's not fully grown back out yet, and abrades my skin just a bit, but I welcome the feel of him, vital and vibrant. He toys with my nipples, rolling them between his fingers until I'm practically panting. Then he takes one into his mouth and I almost come, right there, from the sheer pleasure of it. And he hasn't even touched any lower than that. I've told you that we've been pretty randy and made love nearly every night since he came home, so why all of a sudden foreplay would be so incendiary to me, I don't know. Maybe because, like he said, we just had it out with each other, and sick as we are, it turns us on.

He spends quite a bit of time there, suckling and nibbling, and each time he draws strongly on one or the other, I feel it in a clenching spasm between my legs. At this rate, I'm going to be completely exhausted before he even enters me. I try to draw my knees apart, try to signal to him that I'm ready for that now, but his weight's resting atop them and I'm effectively pinned to the bed beneath him. I moan, my head thrashing on the pillow, and he lifts his head to look at me, that devilish smile on his face. "Problem?"

I try to look dignified, even though my breath's coming in and out in sighing gasps and I'm finding it difficult to focus directly on him. "No...You?"

"Not at all." Gently he laps at the tip of my breast now, tracing the rosy edge of it with his tongue, and he smiles even more when I moan again. "You like that, don't you?"

"Unnh..." He kisses the slope of my belly and then looks back into my eyes. "I love your body, Lissy." 

"I...love...yours..." And indeed, there'll be plenty of time to worship his later. Right now, he's got me so inflamed that he'd better finish what he's started. Resting his head on my stomach, he finally touches me where I want and I about arch off the bed. "Easy, sweetheart."

I'm so wet for him already that as he strokes his fingers leisurely up and down, each time parting me just a bit, dipping inside ever so slightly, I can hear the hungry sound of his touch on me, and it makes me even wetter. His thumb dances lightly over my clit, not quite giving it the stimulation it needs, and I make another one of those frustrated sounds. He's moved off of my legs now so I can part them, trying to increase the speed of his fingers, deepen his caress. He laughs again, but it's not in cruelty, it's because he knows what I want and what HE wants is to prolong this, give me as much pleasure as I can take before he gives in. Then, finally, he slips one finger within me, quickly adding a second one, his thumb rubbing firmly at the same time, and I come, lightning quick, just like that. I know he planned it that way because he's got this look of satisfaction in his eyes, which have grown very dark and more intense than usual, if that's possible.

He knows my body so thoroughly that he also knows what I can stand and how much time I need before bringing me up again. Just as I regain feeling in me from head to toes, he begins this slow rocking motion with his hand, still inside me, his thumb feather light on my swollen, ultra-sensitive bud once more. I feel myself start that familiar thrumming, the need building just as before, but then he stops. I open my eyes in shock. "God...Russell...don't...please..."

"Do you trust me, Lissy?" The question takes me off guard. More urgently, he repeats, "Do you trust me?"

"Yes." I answer without hesitation, for I would trust this man with my life, and he's well aware of that. 

He doesn't say anything back, just smiles at me again with his entire heart on clear display in his eyes. Then, he removes his hand from me, and he's gently flipping me over, onto my stomach. I normally don't really care for this position, not because I find it demeaning or domineering, but because I can't look into his face, can't watch him as I like. But it's what he wants and because of that, it's what I want to give him, too. He slides a pillow beneath my hips, canting me up and towards him. He's behind me now but I resist the urge to gaze back anticipating his entry. Because I trust him I will let him do whatever he wants. I know he won't hurt me; he's not capable of it.

My head's resting on my folded arms on the bed, and I feel him sweep my hair to one side to kiss the nape of my neck. It's a gesture fraught with tenderness, and I close my eyes to keep the tears in, it's so sweet and beautiful. Then another kiss in the center of my spine, his hand smoothing down the length of my back, and one at the small of it, just at my waist.

He nibbles on the rounded curve of one buttock and I hear his incongruous giggle as I jump slightly at the unexpected. His thighs are framing mine now and I can feel the broad head of him poised just at the entrance of me. I try to push back into him to take him but he wraps one strong arm around my middle to hold me still. He leans over me and kisses my nape again. "I love you," he whispers into my ear. 

Then he thrusts into me, hard and deep, and I let out a startled, yearning cry. 

He reaches so deeply within me that it's impossible to tell the essence of myself apart from the essence of him. Pulling out nearly all the way, I let out another cry, this one of loss, before he drives himself home again. He does this until my body tenses, so, so close to climaxing again, and then he slows down so he's barely moving, his body still locked inside of mine, and it's more another easy rocking motion. I can feel my legs brush his with every movement, am conscious of his hands around me, holding me to him. Feeling his breath on me, and more importantly, so strongly feeling his love.

I've slipped my arms from beneath my head and they're outstretched in front of me, my fingers desperately grasping handfuls of the blankets, the pillows, anything. He takes one arm from encircling my waist and covers my hand with his, gently prying it loose. Threading our fingers together, he slides them down between my breasts, over my belly, and between my legs. He brushes my clit first and then guides my own fingertips over that straining, starving, longing little bud. I gasp, my body tightening around his.

"Touch yourself, Liss." He breathes it into my ear, pausing to kiss that tender spot underneath it, which he knows I love. "For me. Please..." 

I do, as he picks up the rhythm and matches it with his own, beginning to move inside me again. But he doesn't take his hand away from mine, leaving our fingers wrapped together so we're both essentially touching me, although he's letting my movements dictate where his own hand goes. I quickly learn, if I time it just right, I can touch him as he's moving in and out of me, too, and it's pretty damn erotic.

Soon our movements are frantic. In and out, back and forth. I scream out his name as I feel what's probably one of the most intense, crazy orgasms I've ever had in my life rip through me. He answers me, calling out my own name as he pours himself inside of me, filling me, bathing me in him. I collapse completely face first into our bed and he settles himself momentarily on top of me before realizing he's coming close to smothering me and moving to one side. His one arm's still wrapped firmly around me and our hands on the other side are still linked together, his face buried in my tangled hair.

I inexplicably feel laughter begin to bubble up inside of me. It's like that time when he first got home, that morning we made love. I suddenly feel carefree and happy again. He raises his head in surprise but when he sees the pure joy in my expression, he joins in.

"I love you," I tell him, giggling when his hand that's partially still trapped beneath my body wiggles and reaches a ticklish spot. "I love you..."

I'm roused out of sleep by the phone ringing. After that initial bout, we had another go, this time slower and calmer, and then, completely wrung out, we both fell soundly asleep. It's mid evening now, and we should be thinking of supper. I'm about to reach across Russell to answer the telephone, since it's on his side of the bed, but without even opening his eyes, one hand gropes blindly, picks it up, and hands it to me. He nearly bangs me in the head with it and I give him a mock glare, not quite awake myself. In fact, he looks almost like he's drifted completely off again. I punch the button to stop the ringing, which is reverberating around the inside of my head. "Mmm...'Lo?" I mumble.

"Mommy, I saw you on TV! I did!" Tyler's cheery voice comes through loud and clear and excited. I scrub at my eyes and try to perk up. "You did? Did you see Daddy, too?"

Russell opens his own eyes somewhat blearily and looks at me. "Just a sec, sweetie, I'm going to have Daddy put this on the speakerphone so we can both talk to you," I tell him. Handing the receiver back, there's a moment of drowsy fumbling while he hits the button and puts it back in its cradle. "Hey, mate," he rumbles, rubbing at his face with both hands.

"Dad, I saw you and Mama on the telly!" He's absolutely thrilled. Daddy on television is no longer a novelty. Mommy, on the other hand, is unusual and unexpected. "Next time, can I be on with you, huh?"

"Doubt Andrew's gonna let any of my family even come to the studio from here on," he says, though he's smiling at me, his eyes twinkling. "We'd have to see 'bout that one, Tyler."

"Are you guys sleeping?" I can see his little face in a confused frown. "'Cause it's not even our bedtime yet. Whatcha sleepin' for?"

Russell rolls his eyes at his son's precociousness. "We were awful tired and so we thought we'd take a nap." 

"If you take a nap too late you won't be able to sleep at night when it's bedtime," he says. "Isn't that right, Mommy?"

"Oh, I think we'll still sleep just fine tonight, buddy," I reassure him. He's so funny. "Are you being good?"

"Yep." Then, "Lily wants to talk, too. I'm gonna put us on the Michaelphone so you can hear both of us, okay?"

It takes me a minute to figure out what he means. "Microphone, peanut. But really, it's called the speakerphone...and let Lily do it so you won't hang us up."

There's a moment's pause, the clunk of the receiver being put back, and then Lil says, "Hi, Mum." 

"Hi, muffin." Russell chimes in with, "Hey there, angel." She giggles. "I didn't know you were there too, Daddy." 

"They's SLEEPIN'." This from Tyler. I snuggle against my husband, my head on his chest. He strokes my back languidly. 

"Did you have supper yet?" Lily's this efficient mini-Mum. I imagine she could run a household just fine, and is doing so even now. Russell has to stifle his laugh. "No, Tyler just woke us up, but we're hungry, so I reckon we'll fix us something after we talk to you."

"Tyler, they were asleep!" I picture her practically shaking her finger at her brother. Now I really do laugh. "Sweetie, it's all right. We're awake now."

"Well, you missed you on TV. Nana and Papa let us watch. We didn't know you were gonna be on there, Mama."

"Neither did I," this from her dad, as he kisses the top of my head. Lil's incredulous. "You SURPRISED Daddy?" She loves stuff like that. 

"Yeah, I surprised your daddy." 

"Good one, Mum!" We're both laughing this time. "Yeah, good on her, all right," Russell says, giving my bottom a pinch. There's a moment of discreet tussling between the two of us and then I say, "How're the twins doing?"

"Okay. But we miss you and want you guys to come home." Another pause and then my astute daughter asks, "Daddy...are you and Mama havin' a bunnymoon there?"

We look guiltily at one another. "Yeah, we're having us a bit of a cuddle right now," he confesses. His hand's now caressing the curve of my hip and my thigh. Lil's always been a dreamer and a romantic and she loves to see us be affectionate.

"That's wonderful!" She sounds so happy. "Keep it up!"

"He's trying to," I mutter. He lets out a guffaw and changes it to exaggeratedly clearing his throat. "Well, Lil, we'll call you guys tomorrow, all right? It's nearly time you two should be getting ready for bed."

"Okay. Love you, Mum. Love you, Daddy." She adds, "Don't forget to eat supper!"

"LOVE YOU TOO!!!!" This from Tyler. Both of us chime in, "Goodnight, guys. Love you both." 

They disconnect and we burst out laughing. "Too smart," Russell says, running his hand through his hair and then attempting to scrub sleep out of his eyes once more. "They're too damn bloody brilliant. And it's only gonna get worse."

"They take after you. Tyler especially." I kiss him. "He's a pistol, that one." 

"I miss them." His tone's suddenly wistful. I sigh and our eyes meet. "Yep, so do I."

After a pause, he adds, "Enough to go back straightaway?"

Without skipping a beat, I answer, "Not just yet." 

"Me neither." We chuckle. 

"Well, then." His hand's drifting, and although it feels nice, I grab it and stop it from traveling any further. "What would you like to do now?"

"I need food." I attempt to smooth my tangled bird's nest of hair. "I need sustenance. If you want any more action, you'll feed me first." 

He grins. "And then, afterwards we'll just have us a cuddle, as Lil says." 

"The day," I tell him, "you'd be satisfied with 'just a cuddle', I'd like to see." 

Laughing heartily this time, he follows me out of bed and after pulling on only the bare minimum of clothing (no distractions from supper, if you know what I mean); we're off to the kitchen in search of a meal.

Since we only planned to be here a few days at the most, we only purchased the absolute essentials of groceries we couldn't live without, i.e. bread, milk, eggs, beer for Russell and bottled water for me. There's the usual assortment of canned food in the pantry and dry staples but nothing sounds good and we'd both like to put in a minimum amount of effort at fixing ourselves a meal. Going out is out of the question because it'd take us a fair amount of time to make ourselves presentable and we're starving now.

Russell finally gets the idea to call one of our favorite restaurants and get some takeaway. Haute cuisine is not required for tonight, so we phone one of our favorite pubs, order big, sloppy burgers with fries (or 'chips' as he calls them) and bribe them to deliver.

He hangs up. "They're swamped; he said they'd be by in thirty to forty five minutes," he tells me. "By the way, you are the talk of the town tonight, love."

"I am?" Good grief, they're talking about me at the local pub. "Because of my appearance on TV?" Apparently, our children aren't the only ones surprised over my public outing.

"Yeah, that's all anyone's talking about down there." He grins. "People are saying to hell with messing with me, they'd be careful before taking you on about anything."

"They ought to be." Laughing, he lifts me off my feet and easily tosses me over his shoulder, like a caveman. I shriek. "What ARE you doing??"

"If we've got a bit of time...might as well occupy it." I shake my head although frankly, that's what I was thinking, too. "You're insatiable." 

"Trying to build up an appetite." We're back in the bedroom. He deposits me on the bed. "I'm starving NOW and don't have the energy," I whine.

"Then lie back and let me do all the work." Mmm...Now we're talking. "Sweetheart, are you sore?" he asks, concerned. "I wasn't exactly gentle a bit ago, you know."

"You were fine." He undoes the sash on my robe, spreading it open wide, and begins working on his jeans. "A little, though." 

"Let me kiss it and make it better..." He promptly buries his face between my legs and I let out a pleasurable moan. It feels so, so good. That's the last rational thought I have until the doorbell rings and dinner's arrived.

There's nothing like food after sex. A lot of it, hot, good, and completely junky. He ordered a cheeseburger with the works, pickle, tomato, onion, and I ordered one with sautéed mushrooms and Swiss cheese. A double batch of fries, and then, much to his amusement, I insisted upon dessert, as well. The pub makes a wonderful raspberry lemon cheesecake and I had him get a whole one.

We're sitting on the floor of the living room, since we barely got the food in the door before we attacked like a pair of ravenous wolves. He watches as I take a big, relishing bite of burger. "Don't know where you pack it all away," he comments. "But you can eat like no woman I've ever known." 

"Thanks, darling." 

"I mean, when you were pregnant with the twins...I know you were eating for all three of you, but I'd never seen anything like it..."

"All right!! You can stop with the comments now!!" He loves teasing me and he laughs. This is the most relaxed I think either of us have been since he came back from the States.

"We're gonna be okay, Lissy." It's half question, half fact. I nod. "I think so." 

"We'll deal with it as it comes." He looks totally serious now. "I wish I could tell you for sure everything's going to work out, but I don't know that yet."

"Well, we'll work it out if and when we have to." I don't want to even consider the worst-case scenario, since it's so awful. "I just want to live in the moment, take things as they come."

"That's the best thing. Best for the kids, too." 

"Besides," I add, "the best thing for you right now is just to do what comes naturally and try not to worry about it just yet." He gives me this sort of leer and I realize my double entendre. "Get your mind out of the gutter, Crowe."

"You said whatever came naturally." 

"You have the biggest sexual appetite of any man I've ever known."

He gives me a pointed stare. "Hope that hasn't been too many of 'em." 

"You know it hasn't, you're enough for me. More than enough. Give it a rest, will ya? At least till we're done eating here." I reach out and shove a fry into his mouth. He captures my hand and kisses the palm before letting me go, munching happily.

I don't know what the future's going to bring for us. But at least I feel more secure about the present, know that we're together and we're going to stay that way, and we're going to solidly face whatever comes, side by side.

After dinner, we take a long, hot, leisurely bubble bath together. You'd never guess, looking at my husband, that he actually enjoys this. He doesn't feel it's a threat to his masculinity or anything like that.

Then we snuggle back in bed, there in the darkness. There's something almost more intimate about simply sharing a bed, sleeping together, than making love. To me, it implies a certain depth of trust, allowing yourself to be completely vulnerable to your partner, both physically and emotionally. Making love is like that too, of course, but there's just something basic about allowing yourself to fall asleep next to someone, night after night.

And there's something about the night itself and the dark that perhaps makes you more wiling to open up, to freely discuss things you might not be able to talk about so readily in the light of day. It's that way tonight for us. Neither of us are tired (yes, Tyler, probably because we DID have that nap earlier), so we have a heart-to-heart.

I'm not even aware we're about to have one until Russell speaks first, his deep voice warm and reassuring close to my ear. "I wish none of this ever happened."

He means the incident. I wish that too, but wishing won't make it so. Quietly, I respond, "It did, though. You can't take it back, honey." I hesitate, and then have to know. "Why? Why did it happen? That's what I've been meaning to ask you."

"You mean do I have issues? Deep psychological issues? Do I have problems?" I don't want him to go on the defensive, so I feel for his hand and take it in mine. "I don't know," I say. "I guess I just want to understand what your motivation was."

"You. Home. The kids. All of it, Lissy." 

"You know," I tell him, carefully, "that's really not an excuse." 

"No," he admits. The good thing about all of this is, I don't feel any tension in him. I guess we're both relieved it's all finally coming out into the open. "I was tired. And restless. And pissed about the way I was being treated...and I reckon it all boiled over."

"I guess it did."

"You're thinking about before, Liss." He's talking about when we separated before, when he needed counseling. The more I've thought about it, I don't think he's to that point anymore. What he did was wrong, spectacularly wrong, extreme in his reaction to the entire situation, and once again, I'm not making excuses for him whatsoever, but I truly know what this man holds in his heart. And it's not violence, anger, or ill will. "It's not the same; I swear to God, it's not."

"I don't think it is, either." I think he's grateful for my belief in him. Softly, I say, "I suppose what I really want from you is, that if you felt you needed help, you'd know you could come to me and ask for it." There's a quiet, reflective moment, and then I ask, "Do you trust me?"

"Yeah, I do." I snuggle closer against him. "That's all I need to know." 

We lie there in silence for a bit, then he says, "They say I'm abusive to you and a threat to the kids, y'know." 

He sounds so miserable. I sigh. "Yeah, I'd heard that but I didn't want to waste time even talking about it. It's all a bunch of bullshit, anyhow."

"I think that's the worst thing that's ever been said about me." He's been branded a bunch of unfair things: a 'Hollywood bad boy' (I cannot TELL you how angry that one always makes me), an adulterer when he was involved with Meg Ryan, a brawler, difficult, temperamental, etc. That this would hurt him the worst hurts me, too. You can't say anything like that about my husband without it affecting me, I'm sorry, but that's the way it is. "Turn the light on," I tell him. "Turn it on. I can't talk to you like this and not be able to see you." He fumbles for a moment in the dark and then switches the lamp on. We both blink for a moment at the sudden glare but find ourselves gazing into one another's eyes.

"You know it's not true. I know it's not true. And I am NOT..." I take a deep, shuddering breath to try to hold my tears in, "...going to let anyone drag us down. I am definitely not going to let anyone drag you down."

"It's all a bunch of fucking shit, all right." He's calm, I can see. Maybe I overreacted but it's a constant battle and I take it to heart. "No, what makes it the worst is that they think I think so little of you, of the kids, that I would supposedly do anything to harm you." Suddenly he asks me, "What's the worst thing they've ever said about you?"

Compared to him, what they say about me is peanuts. Small potatoes. There've been some doozies, but one thing comes to mind. "That I'd think so little of you, that I'd have no faith, no confidence in you, that I'd just walk away and divorce you because of all of this."

I think it's sort of funny and ironic that what would bother us most would be the world's opinion of supposed disregard for each other, rather than any attack on either of us directly. He realizes this too, because he just looks at me, and then he gets that quirky half-grin of his. "What the fuck do they know," he says.

"Exactly." 

What they DON'T know is the storms we've weathered together. This is a very public one, but we've kept quiet and secret so many things. Our separation, our lost child, our second separation and the difficulties we did experience in our marriage. My depression after giving birth to Tyler. Just how touch-and-go my pregnancy was with the twins. If they only knew, maybe then they'd see how devoted we are to one another. On the other hand, they'd have even more fodder for the rumor mill.

Jokingly, I quote, "But I will have my vengeance, in this life or the next." 

He rolls his eyes but grins. "Yeah, me, too. For now, though, I like your idea about taking things a little at a time." Leaning over, he kisses me, and then once I'm settled in his arms just as he likes, he turns the light off again.

There's another bout of long, comfortable silence, and then I tell him, "Since we're having True Confession Night...there IS one thing I never told you."

He waits. I admit, "You know that catering job where we first met?"

"Mmm."

"Well...I wasn't going to do it. But, I only took the job because I wanted to meet you." 

I feel his laughter well up in the darkness. "Look what you ended up with." 

I wrap my arm around him. He lays his cheek against the top of my head. Very, very softly I repeat, "Yep, look what I ended up with." 

The next morning, I wake to find his side of the bed empty. Hurriedly brushing my teeth and hair (which I pull hastily back into a ponytail), I pull on a t-shirt and a pair of jogging pants and go off in search of my wayward husband.

He's in the kitchen, dressed similarly to me, both of us, I note, barefooted and extremely casual. He smiles when he sees me. "G'day, love," he greets me.

"Hi." I smile back, my heart filled with warmth and love for him. 

"Cuppa?" He hands me a fragrant, steaming mug of tea and I take a grateful sip. "Thanks." Coming to stand beside him near the kitchen sink, I suddenly feel very small. The top of my head barely reaches his chin, and I have to tip it back to look at him. He takes immediate advantage of this by leaning over to drop a light kiss on my mouth. "You looked so peaceful this morning, I decided just to let you sleep," he comments.

"How'd YOU sleep?" I want to know. He loops his arm around me and pulls me close against him. "Good. Really good." With each trial we go through, every hardship we endure, it's like a forging anew of our relationship. It's like putting steel into fire---while it's in there, it's weak, easily bent or broken---but when it comes out, it's stronger than it ever was. That's how I feel about us. Running one large hand up and down my back, Russell then kisses my temple. "What do you want to do today?"

I laugh. "Boy, that's a loaded one...sure it's not a trick question?"

He shakes his head. "No, anything you want...although you've got to take into account my stamina and have some consideration for my manhood."

Glancing at said body part, I say coyly, "Oh, I'll give careful, thorough, serious consideration to your manhood." 

Tugging on my ponytail, he teases, "Now who's got a gutter mentality?"

"Me," I admit blithely. "But I'm starving first...I need brekkie." Popping open the refrigerator, I take out the remnants of raspberry-lemon cheesecake from last night, only about a third of the way demolished, and two forks. Plopping it down triumphantly on the table, I hand him silverware. "If you want something like toast and eggs, you're gonna have to fix it yourself."

Sitting down with me, he looks wryly at breakfast and comments, "You know if Lily saw us right now, she'd have an absolute fucking shit fit." Cheesecake in the morning would not set well with our daughter, not when she was fussing over us eating supper the evening before.

I shrug and dig in, savoring a big forkful of cake. "If Tyler were here, on the other hand..."

We look at each other and simultaneously say, "He'd want his own fork!" This makes us both laugh although I notice Russell plunges in with equal gusto. "You're determined to break all of the Seven Deadly Sins while we're here, aren't ya?" he teases. "The primary two being, Lust and Gluttony, apparently."

"Hey, live it up, I say." What I don't tell him, but what is still at the back of my mind, is storing up precious moments, memories, just in case. The possibility breaks my heart into a million shattered pieces but I'm determined to hang on, loving him with every ounce of my being.

Reaching out, Russell tucks an escaping loose strand of hair behind my ear, pausing to caress my cheek. "You look lost in thought," he says, studying me.

He knows me so well I'm sure he realizes there's deep hidden thoughts in my head, and I'm also sure he knows what they're about. And it's not that I don't want to share with him, but there is no point in us dwelling on the what-ifs of this entire thing, and he understands that without me having to say it. So I say lightly, "No, I'm lost in this cheesecake. God, this is heaven on a plate!"

He smiles and I catch his fingers in mine before he can take them back. Forking up a bite, he feeds it to me and I return his appreciative look. There's so much in his eyes right now and I wish I could adequately put it into words. Suffice it to say, I'm infused with a great deal of warmth and an even greater sense of courage, unity, and most of all, an enveloping sense of being loved. This is heaven on earth.

I think the foremost thing on Russell's mind, too, is the fact that this might be the last time in awhile we will have some time alone, the two of us, like this, if he goes back to the States, and...well, I don't want to think about that. But you know what I mean. As it gets closer to the time when things will be settled, one way or another, we'll have to discuss it, whether we want to or not. And we'll have to at least prepare the older children, somewhat. But for now, our primary goal, as a couple, is spending time together, taking time to love and cherish each other, which we should do anyhow but which our situation has given us an added urgency and appreciation of.

We're tempted to closet ourselves in our apartment but today, we decide to go out, first because we have absolutely nothing to hide from, and, secondly, because we've always tried to maintain a very normal lifestyle, regardless of Russell's fame. With the kids, especially. He's always been determined that no one, they or myself, should suffer because of his celebrity, and it usually works out well for us. However, neither of us is prepared for what goes on today.

We go out for our usual walk, and then to go shopping, for treats for the kids, and wherever we go, there's a show of support for him, people calling out well wishes or coming up and telling him they believe in him, but then there's this sort of admiration society for ME. Little did I know, when I went on television last night, I'd become this sort of folk hero for wives everywhere. There's not this mob of people, but I can scarcely turn around without someone mentioning the program and my comments on it. I'm not particularly used to the attention, but I find it heartening and somewhat flattering.

When we get back, he's amused. "How does it feel, love, being the latest celebrity?" he wants to know. 

"All I said was how much you mean to me." I'm still overwhelmed. "I can't see why people would make such a big deal over that."

"The women relate to you, because you went out there and said things that they feel, or wish they felt, for their blokes," he explains. "And the blokes relate, 'cause they wish they had someone like you standing up for them."

I reach out and kiss him. "Well, too bad for that one, 'cause I'm all yours." 

He cradles my face in his big hands and looks at me. "You're all mine," he repeats, with more than just a touch of satisfaction.