“YOUR MIND IS STILL BACK ON THAT PHONE CALL,” BETHANY said on the drive to the theater.

He couldn’t deny it. Emma had spoken! He would have liked to talk with Laura longer, but that would have made them late for the movie.

“Sorry,” he said. “Tell me about work. You said your agent had a big job for you?” Wasn’t that what she’d told him when she arrived at his house? Something about needing to make a decision because the job would interfere with her photography business? He couldn’t remember for certain.

Bethany was quiet. “I don’t want to talk about work, Dylan,” she said. “I want to talk about what’s going on with us. Or maybe the correct statement should be what isn’t going on.”

“I’m not following you.” He kept his eyes on the road, unaccustomed to the accusatory tone in Bethany’s voice.

“Look, I know the rules,” she said. “I know we have no ties to each other. But I’d still like to be treated with some respect.”

“What are you talking about?” He’d always treated her with respect.

“I haven’t heard from you in weeks,” she said. “What am I supposed to think?”

“We’ve been playing telephone tag.” The argument was weak. He could have found the time to call her when he knew she’d be home.

They’d arrived at the theater parking lot, and he pulled into a space and started opening his door.

“No,” she said. “Let’s sit here till we’ve talked this out. Please.”

Letting go of the door handle, he turned to face her. “All right.” Her hair was so black he could barely see it in the darkness, but her eyes were clearly visible and they were filled with questions.

“Be honest with me, Dylan. We’ve both been up-front with each other from the start. We both see other people, and we know it. But we’ve also been special to each other, haven’t we?”

“Yes.” He reached for her hand. “That’s true.”

“So I need to know if someone’s taken my place. I won’t get crazy about it. But I need to know.”

He hesitated for a minute, looking through the windshield toward the marquee of the theater. “Yes,” he said finally, tightening his fingers around her hand. “Someone’s taken your place. And she’s five years old.”

Bethany tilted her head, frowning. “I don’t understand,” she said. “Oh! You mean the little girl in the picture?”

“That’s right.”

“I knew she was your daughter.”

“How did you know?”

“You just needed to take one look at her,” Bethany said. “She has your eyes, your hair, your smile.”

He was smiling now himself. “Yeah, she does, doesn’t she?”

“So, I assume that wasn’t her on the phone. It was her mother, right?”

“Right.”

“And…what is her mother to you?” There was fear in the question. Another person might not pick up on it, but he knew Bethany too well.

“Just her mother.” He tried to sound reassuring. “That’s all. Emma…the little girl…lost her father recently and she hasn’t spoken since then, so her mother called to tell me that Emma spoke today. That’s it.”

“Are you…involved with Emma? I mean, do you see her?”

“Yes.” He let out a sigh. “This is hard to explain, Beth,” he said. “I haven’t been in touch with you, or with anyone really, because I just want to focus on the girl right now. I have five years to make up for. Can you understand that?”

There was a small smile on her perfectly shaped red lips. “Yes,” she said. “And I love you for not being able to turn your back on her. Still…”

“Still?”

“I wish you’d never found out about her.”

The movie was boring to him, although obviously not to Bethany. She couldn’t stop jabbering about it in the van on the way home. He barely knew what she was talking about when she referred to scenes or characters, because he’d let his mind wander to Emma again. He imagined seeing her Monday afternoon, winning her over, somehow erasing that incident with the gun cabinet from her mind. He’d buy a paintbrush her size and let her help him and Laura paint.

By the time they pulled into his driveway, Bethany was snuggled close to him in the van, her silky hair against his chin and her hand stroking the inside of his thigh with an insistent pressure. He was not interested. Not at all. And he was not sure what he was going to do about it.

Stopping the van in front of his garage, he took her hand from his thigh and held it firmly on his knee. “I think we still have some talking to do,” he said.

“Well, I don’t want to talk.” She extracted her hand from his and slipped her fingers inside his shirt, between the buttons. “I want to make love.”

“I know you do, Beth, but…”

“But what?” She pulled away to study him from a distance. “You’re not yourself tonight, Dylan,” she said. “That was your kind of movie. I picked it especially because I could see you needed to get your mind off things. But it backfired. You seem even more distant from me than before.”

“I know. And I’m sorry. But I’m…going through something. I don’t know how to explain it, even to myself. I never wanted kids, and now I suddenly have one, and I feel an obligation to her. More than that. I think she’s…adorable.” The word sounded bizarre coming from his mouth. “I was sitting there in the movie trying to think of what I could bring her next time I see her, or where I might take her for fun, or how I can make her feel safe enough to talk again. I can’t stop thinking about her. Maybe that’s crazy, I don’t know. But it’s what’s happening to me.”

“I don’t think it’s crazy,” Bethany said. “But frankly, I wish it was another woman you were hooked on. I’d know how to fight that. I don’t know how to compete with a five-year-old.”

“You don’t need to compete with her. You just need to be patient with me.”

She sighed, her mouth pursed tightly. “You don’t want me to stay overnight, do you?”

She was beautiful. He could see the swell of her breasts in the moonlight. All week he’d been thinking about sleeping with her tonight, waking up together in the morning the way they used to, laughing and talking and making love again, but right now the memory of her hand on his thigh was more of an irritant. He really was losing it.

“Not tonight, Beth,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

She tried to smile but failed. Leaning over, she kissed him on the cheek. “Call me, okay?” she said.

He watched her get out of his van and into her car. After she’d driven down his driveway, her car’s taillights disappearing in the woods, he walked into the house. He was sorry he’d hurt her, yet he felt nothing but relief at being alone with no one to interrupt his thoughts about his daughter.