“Leave me alone.”

“Please?”

He stood up and held my chin. He brought my face to his and kissed me hard. “No.”

“You’re being stubborn.”

“You look gorgeous, Terry. You always look great-”

“Let me see-”

“Jesus, you’re impossible!”

He attempted to lift up his shirt. When I tried to help, he slapped my hand away. He showed me his wound.

“I’m not taking off the bandage.”

“You should,” I said. “The wound is weeping through the gauze. Do you have any medication or replacement bandages or salves?”

He held out his hand in exasperation, then gave me a bag filled with medical material-tape, bandages, medicines, salves, ointments. I went through the supplies, then wiped down my hands with a new bottle of Betadine. I started to take off the outer layer of adhesive. He winced.

“I’m sorry. Hopefully, it won’t take long.”

“Do you know what you’re doing?” he asked me.

“Yes.”

His expression was dubious, but he stood still. I peeled back the layers. “Who dressed this? He did a good job.”

“She.”

I laughed. “God, I can’t believe what a sexist I am. Who’s she? Mrs. Decker?”

“Yeah.”

“Does Lieutenant Decker know about this?”

“Nope. Doesn’t know about his wife being here, doesn’t know that I’ve been shot. There’s a lot that Lieutenant Decker doesn’t know.”

“What’s going on?”

“It’s complicated.”

“My plane doesn’t take off for a while.”

He talked to me while I worked. His sentences were terse. I was getting the encapsulated version. Probably the sanitized version as well. Twenty minutes later, I had patched him up. He sat down and took another swipe of booze.

“You shouldn’t drink and take painkillers at the same time,” I told him.

“I gave up cigarettes for you. Leave me alone.”

“I care. It’s not safe.”

“My system’s impervious to drugs. It’s a wonder I’m still alive.”

I took the bottle out of his hands, brushed my fingers over his grizzled face. “I’m glad you are.”

He regarded me, scrutinized me. A long time ago, his penetrating eyes made me nervous. Not anymore. Years of dealing with Chris’s unpredictability had hardened me. I needed him-as my son’s father, as my bank account. Initially, my grandparents had supported my son and me. They are lovely people, and I knew we were a burden. After eighteen months, I assured them that I would be fine and convinced them to move to a retirement community in Florida. Immediately, I was plunged into poverty. For almost two years, I put myself through college while trying to put bread on the table. Debt took on a life of its own. I was drowning, and Chris was watching. As I exhaled my last breath-a heartbeat away from eviction-Chris offered me a life preserver. I took it and haven’t looked back, although someday I’m sure I will. It will not be a sterling moment in my moral history. Still, being his courtesan was better than choosing between quitting med school or suffering through another frigid Chicago winter without decent heat.

His hands went to my face. He kissed me… long and gentle. I could feel the ball of his tongue pierce as he swept through my mouth. He loosened my hair from the ponytail holder and ran his fingers through my long tresses. He kissed me again and again. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Not true,” I told him. “Would I be here if I didn’t?”

“Yeah, you’d do it out of obligation.”

“You sell my affections short,” I said. “Don’t be nasty.” I let my hand travel down to his inner thigh. “Be nice.”

He placed it over his groin, and I felt him grow in my fingers. He closed his eyes, his breathing audible. He whispered, “I keep forgetting what you do to me.” He gave me hungry eyes. “This is the safest place, Teresa. The only place where I feel comfortable talking.”

“I didn’t know you wanted to talk.” I stood on my tiptoes and kissed his lips, then bit them gently. “Doesn’t matter, Chris. Here’s fine. Anywhere’s fine.”

“You want a pillow or something?”

“Do you have something that’s clean?”

He made a face. “You’re very funny.”

“I’m dead serious. I don’t know who you bring in here.”

“No one. You know how meticulous I am.”

That he was.

“I have a stereo hooked up, too,” he said. “Vivaldi’s ‘Four Seasons’?” A rare sort of smile graced his lips, one that shot light into his eyes and showed how incredibly good-looking he could be. “Gipsy Kings?”

“You beast you.” I answered his smile in kind.

“I’ll be right back.”

His face had become suffused with little-boy excitement, like the first time I had given him a birthday gift. He put on the music and brought in a big, fluffy pillow, placing it on top of the desk. I pushed it off, letting it fall to the ground.

I dropped to my knees.

A couple of hours later, I asked if there was a place where I could bathe. Though he claimed to use condoms assiduously, he refused to use them when he was with me, saying it was the one time he could let his guard down. But it was more than that. Anything less than full culmination implied my rejecting his basic being, so my pleas had fallen on deaf ears. I had had the good sense to get an IUD when we became intimate again, but it did nothing for disease. The last time I had begged him to wear protection, he became very angry-that silent, dreadful fury that sent waves of fear into my gut. He had this look-this deadly look. He used it whenever he meant business. I had been on the receiving end of his wrath and revenge. There were some things I just couldn’t push him on.

“I have a unit upstairs. I’ll come with you in a minute.” He took my hand and kissed my fingers one by one. Then he let go and got dressed. He was still breathing hard when he sat down. “Let me rest for a moment. You gave me a workout, you animal.”

I got up from his desk and put on my clothes and clipped my hair back. I gulped down half the bottle of Evian, then gave it to him. He took a big swallow, then closed his eyes. He was drenched with perspiration. He didn’t look well at all. I felt his forehead. “You’re very hot.”

“It’s stuffy in here.”

“You’ve got a fever, Chris.”

“Any wonder after the calisthenics you put me through.”

“I’m concerned. Do you have a doctor I can talk to? You need Keflex.”

“I’ve got it.”

“Are you taking it?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“It upsets my stomach.”

“Christopher-”

“I’ll take it.” He finished up the bottle of water. “I’m probably just dehydrated. Stop nagging me.”

“I care.” I sat in his lap. “Please?”

“Yes, I will take Keflex.” He nibbled my upper lip, then kissed me. “Happy?”

“Yes.”

We began to kiss. Then he broke away.

“So who are you dating?” he asked me.

“No one.”

“Don’t lie to me, angel. Who are you dati-”

“No one,” I insisted.

He pulled out a nutrition bar from a file cabinet, ate half, then offered it to me. I shook my head, so he finished it.

“Not dating anyone?”

“No, I am not dating anyone.”

“Then why’d you go to the Hilton with your classmate? What was his name? Michael Bonocelli? Did I pronounce it right?”

His eyes were dead, just waiting to pounce. I said, “Your spy wasn’t thorough. If he had been more watchful, he would have seen me walk out as well as walk in.”

His face told me he was unconvinced.

“They have a very good Italian restaurant, Chris. When Mike invited me to go to dinner, I had no idea he meant room service.”

“You still went out with him.”

“We were working on a paper together-‘The Implications of Iatrogenic Causes in Radiation Deaths of Stage-Three Breast Cancer Patients’-a subject that interests me since both of our mothers died from the disease. Thank God we had a son. The lead professor’s name is Doctor Edwin Alvary. Mike offered me a dinner meeting, and I took him up on it. Sue me. I get tired of mac and cheese or peanut butter every night.”