FOUR YEARS LATER...................

"Honey!  I'm HOME!"  I shout, coming through the door.

Hallie and Michael are sitting on the carpet, playing some board game, but when they see me, Hallie squeals "Daddy!" and runs to me, wrapping her arms around my legs.  I grin and scoop her up, and once I get her in my arms, Michael is standing next to me, and I kiss his lips, trying to keep the kiss chaste due to the four-year-old presence giggling in my ear, but it's a struggle, even after all this time.

"How was your day?'  Michael asks me when we pull apart.

I shrug.  "It was work.  You?"

He shrugs too, mirroring my gesture.  It's something we find ourselves doing a lot.  "It was school."  He can't keep a straight face for long, and soon his face is split by a huge smile.  "Getting really close to graduation, and as far as I can tell, there's gonna be a huge market for teachers once I get my degree."

I kiss him again.  "That's awesome, babe.  We should celebrate."

He grins evilly. "And how should we going about doing that?"

I laugh.  "You know."

Michael turns to look at Hallie.  "Hey hon, how long till your bedtime?"

I can't help but laugh at that, and I almost drop Hallie.  After I've regained my hold and Hallie's glared at me, she turns back to Michael.  "Well, Teletubbies isn't on yet, so it's not time yet.  You can't trick me again, Mr. Man."

This time I have to put my daughter down because I'm laughing so hard I can barely keep standing up.  Once I regain my composure, I kneel down to look into Hallie's eyes.  "Can I make you a deal?"

She places her small hands on her hips.  "That depends."

I'm privately amazed at how smart my baby girl is.  "If you go to bed early tonight, I'll take you out for ice cream tomorrow."

She tilts her head.  "Can I get a fudge sundae?"  I nod.  "With sprinkles?"  I nod again.  Her eyes grow wide.  "With a cherry?"

"With a cherry."

She immediately runs into her room, pulling open the drawer that holds her pajamas.  I grin at Michael, then follow her to help her get changed.

Once she's tucked in, I walk into Michael's and my bedroom, where he waits for me.  He is already stripped to his boxer shorts, and I raise an eyebrow.  "Well, I don't know what you thought we were gonna do to celebrate, but I was thinking dinner."

He laughs and starts to work on the buttons to my shirt.  "You're such a tease, Pete."

"You know it, baby."  And then, my shirt is off, and my pants, and we fall onto the bed, laughing, kissing touching...

When we are through, we lay on the bed, entwined, Michael's head resting on my chest, and I decide that this is perfection.  I sometimes look back and wonder how I ever could not have wanted this, how I lived with him and had him for months, and I didn't want it.  I can't identify a time when things changed, when I started welcoming his touch, when I started craving his presence, when I started initiating the intimacy between us.  I just have this hazy picture of then...and I have now.  I have the only man...the only person I could ever dream of loving, I have a beautiful job, I have a job that I don't hate...I can't imagine anything better than this.

Michael looks up at me.  "What'cha thinking about?"

I kiss his forehead.  "Nothing.  Go to sleep."

He shakes his head, sitting up.  "I can't.  If the laundry doesn't get done, we'll all have to go around naked tomorrow or something."

I pull him back down.  "And the problem with that is...?"

He rolls his eyes.  "C'mon.  I need to get it done."

I get out of bed, pulling back on my pants and boxers.  "You stay here and relax.  This is your celebration.  I'll do the laundry."

He watches me pick up the laundry basket and soap.  "Don't forget to separate the whites and the colors..."

I sigh in exasperation.  "You know, I screw up ONE TIME..."

"And mess up my only dress shirt."

I continue as if I don't hear him.  "I screw up one time and wreck a shirt, and all of a sudden you don't trust me to do laundry anymore."

He laughs.  "I trust you.  It was just a reminder."

Grumbling I walk out the door to the apartment, down the stairs, until I get to the washers. I started tossing clothes into the washer, making sure to keep the colors and the whites separate so Michael didn’t have a mob hit put on me or anything.  As I was sorting through the piles of socks, I saw my grandmother walk into the building.  "Hey Nonna," I call to her.

She turns to look at me.  "Peter!  Oh good, you're alone."

Dammit, now I know why she's here.  She likes to do this every once in awhile, corner me and ask when I'm gonna leave Michael.  At first, it used to worry me, but now it's just an annoyance.  Of course, things would be a lot simpler if I admitted that I loved Michael, but that would take an act of courage that is beyond me.  "Nonna…"

"I will tell him if you don't."  She says this all in one rush, like she's been saving this up for a long time.

I blink.  "Come on.  Don’t be like this.   Please."

She crosses her arms over her chest.  "Peter, you need to get away from him.  You need to find yourself a nice woman, get married..."

"It's not gonna happen."  I rub my eyes.  "It's not in the cards…look, I have the whole thing under control, ok?"

"Well, of course it won't happen if no one says anything."  She turns and walks towards the stairs to the apartment.

"Nonna, wait!"  I yell, starting to follow after her.  But then I remember the clothes in the washer.  If I leave them alone, they won't be here when I get back, guaranteed.  And I can't pull them out while they're still wet.  Besides, she wouldn't REALLY tell him.  She's probably just trying to scare me.

So, I finish the laundry and head up the stairs.  By this point, I'm calm, I'm sure I will go back to my apartment and find everything as it was before I left.

My timing is flawless.  Just as I'm approaching the door, Michael walks out.  His eyes are red and swollen, but behind the tear tracks, they are ice cold.  "Tell me she's lying," he says, his voice eerily calm.

Oh shit, what now?  I can’t tell him that my grandmother is lying, but to tell him the truth would be…

He takes my silence as all the answer he needs.  "Fuck you."  I don’t even see a change in his expression.  "I can’t be here right now."  And with that, he walks away.