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Horns were honking at them as the light changed, and he took her by the arm, as she pushed the pram, and escorted her to the corner. He helped her up onto the curb, and then smiled as he looked at the baby.

“Who's that?” he asked, with a look of amusement, as the baby crowed at him, as though he was happy to see Joe.

“That's my son Reed,” she said proudly. “He's three months old.”

“He's a handsome guy,” he said thoughtfully, and then smiled gently at her, “he looks just like you, Kate. I didn't know you were married, or are you?” The question would have been insulting from anyone else, but that was the way Joe was.

To him, having a baby did not automatically mean one had to be married. He was a little advanced in his thinking, or maybe just backward. Sometimes it was hard to decide which.

“I've been married for a year, almost exactly.”

“You didn't waste any time having the baby,” he said, but that didn't surprise him. He knew that was what she wanted. She had made that clear when she left him.

He hadn't seen her in nearly three years, but she looked no different. If anything, she looked better, as did he. He was thirty-nine years old, but no one would have guessed his age. He had an eternally boyish look about him, particularly with his sandy blond hair falling toward his eyes. He pushed it back, as he always had, in a gesture that Kate had always found endearing. She had thought of it a thousand times at night, when she cried for him. And now he was standing in front of her, and it was a strange, sad, empty feeling. She would have liked to be able to say she didn't care, and was unaffected by him, but she had the same odd clutch in the pit of her stomach, like a rock that was turning slowly. She had always thought that was what love meant. But she had never felt the rock in her gut with Andy. With him, she always felt peaceful. And now, with Joe standing inches from her, she felt intolerably nervous. He was just a piece of her past, she told herself. But a very big piece. There was the same electricity between them as he looked into her eyes. She wondered if those feelings ever went away.

“Who's the lucky guy?” he asked casually. He seemed to have no inclination to leave her.

“Andy Scott, my old friend from Harvard.”

“Your mother always said you should marry him. She must be happy.” There was a faint edge to his voice. He knew her mother had hated him.

“She is,” Kate said, feeling dazed.