Kevin noticed a strange noise coming from the other side of the car. "Are you crying?"

"Yes, and just let me, okay?"

"No, it's not okay." He couldn't remember ever seeing Tara cry. He pulled the cruiser over to the side of the road, cut the engine, unfastened his seat belt, and scooted next to her on the bench seat. He put his arms around her and held her close, murmuring gentle, soothing phrases as she cried on his shirt.

"I know it's hard, I know, baby," he soothed. "We'll work everything out."

"I want to remember," she sobbed. "I want to know how I got from there to here. God knows I love you, Kevin, but…but…"

"You can't imagine why you wanted to move here," he said, completing her thought.

"It's just so different."

"You haven't even given it a chance. Try it for a while."

"I will. I never meant to imply I would go back on my word. Obviously I made a promise to you, and I intend to keep it. You'll just have to endure my little…fits of adjustment."

A spear of guilt stabbed Kevin straight through the heart. He never should have let Debra talk him into this lie. But if he told Tara the truth now, she would turn tail for Chicago faster than a spooked rabbit. At least he could have a couple of weeks with her first, some memories to draw on during the long Colorado winter nights to come.

She stopped crying after a few more minutes, much to his relief. But he still held her. With her new, softer curves, she felt better than ever in his arms. His groin tightened at the memory of their lovemaking.

Her mind must have been traveling along similar corridors, because she asked, "Kevin, how long has it been since we made love?"

"Way too long." That much, at least, was the sincerest truth.