Bob Orton hesitated outside the hospital waiting room. He liked to think that he had seen everything, but there were some things that you're just never prepared for. Taking a deep breath, he walked in and crossed the room to where his daughter-in-law was sitting.

"How is he?" he asked quietly.

Samantha looked up at him, her face ravaged by grief and worry. "He's still heavily sedated," she whispered, trying not to disturb her little daughter, sleeping in her arms. "The doctors have said that he can be released as soon as he comes around."

"So it's not serious?"

"He's pretty banged up. He broke his nose so he's going to have a couple of black eyes and they are worried about his shoulder, but he should be as good as new in a couple of weeks."

Visibly relieved, he scooped up his little granddaughter and settled her head against his shoulder as she mumbled in protest. "Thank God," he breathed. "What about Evan?"

"His parents are with the doctors right now."

Anything he might have said was cut off as a woman in her fifties came into the room. Samantha sprang to her feet and wrapped her arms around her. "Monica," she said softly, "is there anything I can do?"

"I don't know," she said, struggling to retain her composure. "I – I can't really think straight right now. I need to call the boys."

"Would you like me to do that?"

"No," she said, pulling away. "I'll call Dan right away, but I'm not sure how to get hold of Mike. He's on tour in the Carolinas somewhere." She pressed her thumb and forefinger against her eyelids. "It's ridiculous. He called me yesterday to let me know that he'd forgotten his cell phone. I laughed and told him that mankind had survived for thousands of years without cell phones; he should be able to manage for a few days. And now…"

"I'll track him down," Orton said. "I still know most of the promoters out there."

"Could you?" she said as Evan's father came into the room. "Michael, Bob is going to try to get hold of Mike."

"Thank you," he said gruffly, putting an arm around his wife. "The doctors need to see us."

"As soon as I've handed this young lady over to my wife, I'll get on the phone," he promised.

"Thank you Bob," Sam echoed as Evan's parents disappeared back into the Intensive Care unit.

"It's a relief to be able to do something. You just feel so helpless at a time like this."

XXXXXX

Sam answered the door the following afternoon to find John and Liz Cena on her doorstep. 'You shouldn't have come all this way," she exclaimed even as she hugged them both tightly.

"Of course we should have," Liz said, following her into the kitchen. "How's Randy?"

"He's upstairs. I brought him home last night. What are you looking for?" she asked as John swept the room with a glance.

"Broken furniture," he said. "I was sure he would have half demolished the place by now."

"He's been very quiet," Sam answered. "In fact, he's barely said a word since he got home."

"I guess the drugs haven't worn off yet," John said, bounding up the stairs.

"Do you want some coffee?" Sam asked. "You know you're welcome to stay here."

"I'm fine," Liz said, pulling her to sit down, "and we've already checked into a hotel. We wouldn't dream of imposing on you right now. We just wanted you to know that we're here if you need us."

"Thank you," she replied, dabbing at her eyes. "John will be good for Randy. It's true; he hasn't said more than about five words since they let him out last night."

"And Evan?"

"He was released this morning; His brother, Dan, called. He'll keep us informed. I don't want to bother Michael or Monica; they have way too much to deal with right now."

"So what happened exactly?" Liz asked.

"It was raining and it was dark; the roads were bad. He lost control and slammed into a tree." She swallowed hard. "Randy was very lucky."

"But what were they doing out like that in the middle of the night?" As Sam refused to meet her eyes, she flushed and shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "Oh!" she said softly.

"It's okay; you don't have to be embarrassed." She reached out to squeeze the other woman's hand.

"And you don't mind?"

"Yes, I do mind, but I always liked Evan and it's funny when you think about it. He's known Evan longer than he's known me…"

XXXXXX

Ten years earlier

Randy followed his father into the dingy arena, barely suppressing his amusement at the reaction his father's presence caused. He could tell that the older man was enjoying every second of it.

"Compared to some of the holes I worked in, this place is a palace," the elder Orton chuckled. "I hope you realise how lucky you are," he said. "Most of us have to put in years in places like this.

"Yes Dad," he replied dutifully, barely managing to avoid rolling his eyes. But he was fortunate, he knew. His father's influence had secured him entry into the WWF, but he knew the rest was up to him and, recalling his father's anger and disappointment over his ignominious exit from the Marines, he was determined to make him proud. And if that meant following him to indy shows in rat holes, he'd do it."

"Some of these guys will be your opponents and rivals one day," he said. "Pay attention. You might learn something."

It was a fairly standard show. A couple of the wrestlers showed some definite promise and there were one or two has-beens, whom his father remembered. His father kept him laughing with a running commentary of embarrassing stories about them, but one kid caught his attention. He didn't even look old enough to shave; he was skinny as a rail and incredibly raw, but he radiated energy and enthusiasm and had an infectious smile.

"Somebody should tell that kid not to grin when he's taking a beat-down," Bob whispered to him.

His father was right, he knew, but he seemed lit up with happiness; he couldn't have looked more excited if he were headlining Wrestlemania.

The promoter approached them and shook Bob's hand. "Would you consider coming back to the locker room?" he asked. "They'd be thrilled to meet you."

Randy watched his father lap up the adulation in the locker room after the show, but he also noticed that he made an effort to speak to every single participant, finding something to compliment each of them with, until he reached the skinny kid.

"Don't smile when you're getting the crap kicked out of you," he said. "It makes you look like a retard."

Seeing the youngster's crestfallen expression, Randy hurried to his side. "You must be good," he said in a low voice. "The old man doesn't waste his time giving advice to guys who he doesn't think are worth it."

"Really?" he said, smiling uncertainly.

"Really," he replied. "I'm Randy," he said, extending his hand.

"Evan," he said, "and I know who you are. You're going into the WWF soon, aren't you?"

"That's right," he said, smiling down at him, strangely unwilling to end the encounter. "Maybe you'll join me there soon."

"Jeez! Do you really think so?" he asked turning bright red.

"I do," he said. "Nice meeting you, Evan," he added as his father gestured that he was ready to leave.

They were waylaid by the promoter and it was another fifteen minutes before they made it to the parking lot. Just as Bob was starting his car, he saw the kid following a couple to their car. He had noticed them during the show, sitting on the opposite side of the ring. They couldn't have looked more out of place if they had been dressed to attend the opera. He realised that they had to be his parents and smiled to himself at the idea that that kid was so young he had to get his mom and dad drive him to the shows.

XXXXXX

John couldn't help smiling at the sight of Randy lying on the bed, his arm in a sling, his nose heavily bandaged as Alanna stuck Band-Aids all over her father.

"I see you're getting good nursing," he said.

Randy smiled faintly and caressed his daughter's hair. "The best."

"Hey sweetheart," he said, tickling her under her chin, "why don't you go downstairs and see what Aunt Liz brought you?"

Sitting at the end of the bed as she scampered off, he asked, "How are you? Really."

"What you see is what you get," Randy answered. "I have to see a specialist about my shoulder, but I should be back on the road soon. Everybody tells me I'm incredibly lucky."

"You are," John said gravely. "They let Evan go this morning. Liz and I will be stopping in a bit later."

Randy nodded silently and stared into space. "It's my fault, you know," he said dully. "I was driving like a mad man."

John blinked in surprise and said in a conciliatory tone, "You always drive like a mad man; everybody knows that."

"It was dark and the roads were wet and we were arguing."

"You two were always arguing. If he wanted to go to McDonalds you wanted to go to Wendy's; if you wanted to get breakfast at the IHOP, he wanted to eat at Denny's."

"Is that what people saw? Is that what people think about us: that we're like some bickering couple in a TV sitcom?" He was becoming visibly agitated.

"No Randy," John said softly, "not at all. What they saw was that Evan was only one who would ever argue with you or contradict you and he was the only one you ever let get away with it. Nobody, not for a minute, has ever doubted how you feel about Evan."

XXXXXX

He had been back on the road for two weeks. Everybody treated him with great kindness, but whenever he walked into a room an uncomfortable silence would fall on the assembled company. His shoulder still bothered him; he knew that Sam had spoken to John about it. He knew that John had used his influence to have him spared as much as possible. That would have to stop, he thought as he let himself into his hotel room. He'd have it out with him tomorrow.

"You're late," said a voice in the darkness.

He switched on the light and stared in disbelief at the slight dark-haired figure grinning at him. "How did you get in here?" he asked crushing him to his heart.

"That's not important," he replied, coiling his arms around Randy's neck and pulling his head down for a kiss.

An hour later, they lay replete, Evan's head pillowed on his shoulder. "I wish you'd told me you were coming," Randy murmured. "Were you waiting long?"

"Not really," he smiled up at him. "But you know I'll always be waiting for you."

"So are you back?"

"No," he sighed. "Just a visit. Nobody even knows I'm here."

"How long then, before you're back?"

"A while," he shrugged. "Nobody knows for sure, but I have to take off first thing in the morning. You know how it is."

"Yeah, I know," he sighed. "So, how did you get in here? Did you give the hotel maid that look of yours?"

"You mean this one?" Evan laughed as he opened his eyes wide, gazing about with an expression of sorrowful innocence.

"Yes, that one," he chuckled. "Remember when you talked that female highway patrol cop out of giving us ticket with that."

"I always thought it was your devastating charm that did the trick."

"Maybe it was, but you have to admit that, combined, we sure got away with a lot of crap."

"We sure did."

XXXXXX

Nine years earlier

Randy made his way to the locker room of the high school gym where Evan's most recent show had taken place, wrinkling his nose at the smell of mildew.

"Randy!" Evan exclaimed as he hurried over to him, "I couldn't believe it when I saw you out there."

"Oh, you noticed me then?"

"There were about twenty-five people in the audience," he laughed. "Anyway, nobody could ever miss you."

"We had a show in Topeka this afternoon and somebody mentioned an indy show in Jefferson City tonight. I thought I'd stop by and say happy birthday."

"It's a three and a half hour drive from Topeka to here," Evan said. "You didn't have to do that."

"It's on the way home anyway," Randy said with a dismissive shrug. "And you only turn eighteen once. What if we grab a burger and drive back home together?"

"That would be great," he answered, glowing with pleasure. "Just let me go tell them I've got a ride."

Twenty minutes later they were driving along the highway. "I'd buy you a beer," Randy said, "but you're not old enough, so I guess it's a burger and milkshakes."

"That's okay," he said. "I don't really like beer that much anyway."

"You'd better start liking it," he said as they pulled into a diner. "Almost everybody in this business drinks like a fish. You should hear some of the stories my old man can tell."

"But that was before," Evan protested. "Things are different now."

That's what he thought, Randy mused as they took their seats. This past year had been an education to him and he had been better prepared than most by his father. But looking at Evan, his eyes shining, his face flushed with excitement, he felt a sudden pang. He looked even younger than his eighteen years; it would be a shame to see that enthusiasm dimmed and that innocence spoiled. "Are you sure this is really what you want to do?" he asked. "It's a hell of a life sometimes. You're young and bright. You have all sorts of choices."

"Jeez," he said, "you sound like my father."

"My dad didn't want me to go into this business either and he knows more about it than most."

"I did promise my parents that I would go to college. I'll be starting this fall; three days a week so I can keep wrestling."

"That's good," Randy replied. "At least you're keeping your options open. By the way," he added, "my dad saw your last show at home. He says you're still telegraphing some of your spots."

"I know and I am working on it."

"I can tell. You did much better tonight. You know the only reason why he says these things is because he thinks you're good and because you listen and learn."

"Why wouldn't I?" Evan asked. "You're so lucky to have someone like your dad, who can help you get better. I really appreciate that he takes the time to watch me sometimes and tell me what I'm doing wrong. Look at how well you're doing."

"Yeah – well," Randy said with a shrug. "I've been kind of lucky too. Anyway, my dad also said that you have to do something about your ring gear. It looks like your mother makes your tights."

"Because she does," Evan said. "I can't afford fancy gear right now. My parents have been really good about this and they're helping as much as they can with my college, but I can't expect anything more from them."

"That's what I thought," Randy said passing Evan a plastic bag. "Here, this is from my dad and me. Happy Birthday."

Evan opened the bag to find a couple of pairs of tights, new boots and shin guards. "Why Randy," he said softly, "you didn't have to do that."

"I know," he said smiling at him, "but I'm glad I could."

"Thank you, both of you. You and your dad have been terrific."

Later, in the car, as they drove back to St Louis, Randy listened to Evan indulgently as he chattered about recent shows, school and his family. He might not be able to deter Evan from his chosen course, but he could keep an eye on him, he thought and warn him about the dangers of the road. He was still very sheltered and naïve and could be easily led astray.

"You know," Randy began, "you haven't had much experience on the road, but if you're going to do this, you'll be spending plenty of time there. You're going to meet all sorts of people. Take that guy with the cowboy gimmick today."

"Who? Bullwhip? Whiplash? I never quite got his name."

"Yeah, him. Watch out for him. He's a known perv and he likes them young."

"Jeez," Evan said, opening his eyes wide, "he's been so nice to me. He said he'd pick me up next week and drive me to the show in Springfield. We were going to share a motel room." As Randy began to flush a deep red with anger, Evan burst out laughing. "I know I'm young and inexperienced, but I'm not stupid and you're not the first one to warn me about him."

Randy punched him affectionately on the shoulder. "I'm glad a couple of folks have been watching out for you, but you do need to be careful; not everyone is that easy to spot." He launched into a list of who shouldn't be trusted not to stab him in the back, who he should never lend money to and who he should never tell anything to, unless he wanted it spread through every locker room in the Midwest. Then he started to warn him about the locals, the ring-rats and the wrestling groupies.

"Honestly Randy," Evan interrupted, "I've seen them around, but none of them pay any attention to me."

"Maybe not yet," he retorted, "but they will. Stick to your girlfriend back home. It's safer."

Evan turned bright red. "I don't have a girlfriend."

"Okay, but you'll probably get one when you're away at college."

"I don't want a girlfriend," he said so quietly Randy could barely hear him.

"That's what you think right now, but you'll-" Suddenly, he noticed Evan's wretched expression. "Oh! I see." They drove in silence for several miles. "Evan," he said, "it's okay. It doesn't make any difference to me. Really."

Sighing with relief, Evan said, "I'm glad. I've been wanting to tell you for a long time."

"Well now you have; I hope you feel better."

He diverted the conversation to lighter topics for the rest of the drive, but after he dropped Evan at his parents' house he couldn't help but dwell on his revelation. He was surprised, but not shocked. There had been some… experiments, for lack of a better word, in his own past. Randy, you fucking hypocrite, he thought. He was a fine one to be giving advice and warnings, when he considered some of his own behaviour over the past year. But who better? Some of the fallout had been ugly indeed. Perhaps he could prevent Evan from making the same mistakes.

XXXXXX

Sam was struggling with the straps on Alanna's stroller when she heard Randy speaking into his phone through the open mud room door that led into their kitchen.

"Hi Evan, it's me," he said. "Give me a call as soon as you can." His voice dropped an octave, containing a note she had never heard when he spoke to her. "I'll be waiting for you."

She felt a sick thud in her stomach. Still! In a way she had always known that she had been Randy's second choice, but she loved him so much that she had convinced herself it didn't matter. They were happy together. In spite of their recent difficulties, she told herself fiercely. He was generous to a fault and he doted on Alanna. But when he was on the road and she lay alone in bed she was tortured by images of them together, of Randy speaking to him in low, caressing tones, of Randy embracing Evan with a passion he never showed her and of Randy gazing fondly at Evan, his normally icy eyes glowing a soft, luminous blue.

The only other person he ever looked at like that was Alanna, never her. She had only caught Randy looking at him like that once, but that had been enough for her to realise that Evan held a place in Randy's heart that she would never be able to occupy.

XXXXXX

Five years earlier

Sam hugged Bob and Elaine Orton and wished them both a Happy New Year. Linking her arm through Sam's, Elaine drew her around the room, introducing her to various Orton family friends who had dropped in for their New Year's Day open house.

"I know they seem a bit overwhelming," Elaine whispered as they approached a boisterous group of large grizzled men, "but most of them have hearts of gold. Just remember to take anything they say with a large block of salt."

The various ring veterans greeted her with bluff enthusiasm, one and all agreeing that Randy was a very lucky man. She could see Randy across the room, trapped by his aunt and several of his mother's friends struggling to make polite conversation. They had been dating for over a year now and she was still sometimes amazed that he returned to her after each road trip.

Her family and girlfriends had warned her about getting involved with Randy Orton; he had a reputation as a womaniser with a quick temper and nasty streak, but she had never seen any of that. He had, however, admitted that a great deal of the gossip about him was true.

"I was pretty wild for my first few years," he said. "I did a lot of things I'm not proud of today. People will always gossip about me. Just don't listen to the bullshit they spew. Almost none of what they say about me today is true." He had gone on to talk frankly about the temptations of the road. "I'm no saint," he said, "and I'll warn you that I might slip, but-"

"That doesn't matter," she interrupted him. "As long as you come home to me. I'll be waiting for you."

In the past year, there had been one incident, which he had promptly confessed to her. Congratulating herself that they were able to build such an open and honest relationship, she had insisted that she understood and they had put it behind them.

Suddenly, she noticed Randy staring in her direction. His face lit up with a smile such as she had never seen before as he strode across the room, hurrying past her with a shout of, "Evan! You made it!" He caught him in a rough embrace and spun him around to face Sam. "This is Evan," he said, his arm slung affectionately around his shoulders. "Evan, meet Sam."

"It's so nice to meet you at last," he said with a grin as he held out his hand. "Randy talks about you all the time."

"Same here," she answered, instinctively liking him. "I hear you've been travelling all around the world."

"That's right," he said. "I've seen locker rooms all over Europe. Churches and museums are overrated," he laughed waving his hand.

"Hopefully, we can get him to stay put soon," Randy said. "Sooner or later, Vince has to come to his senses and sign him up."

"And in the meantime, I can further my acquaintance with every roach motel in America."

Bob Orton came over to shake his hand heartily and bore him off, bawling instructions about the right and wrong way to apply a wrist-lock.

"I think my dad's had too much of his own punch," Randy chuckled. "Come on," he said, taking her hand, "let's go find some food."

An hour later, she had lost track of him. Discovering the downstairs powder room was occupied, she went upstairs to use the bathroom there. As she came out, she could hear voices coming from Randy's old room. He and Evan were standing close together in the dark, silhouetted by the brilliant moonlight that poured in through the open curtains.

"I have to drive Sam home," Randy whispered, "but I can be back in less than half an hour. Will you be here?"

"You know I'll always wait for you," Evan replied quietly, "but not like before. We can go for a beer and talk, but that's it."

"I see you're still wearing this," he said, hooking his finger around the cord with a few beads strung on it Evan had around his neck.

"I wear it almost all the time."

"Do you remember when we got it? Do you remember what I said to you?"

"Oh course," he whispered, "but things have changed."

"Nothing has changed," Randy hissed. "Nothing!"

Unable to listen to any more, Sam moved quietly down the hallway and fled downstairs.

"Sam! Are you all right?" Elaine Orton hurried over to her. "You're looking very pale and shaky."

"I – I think I've had bit too much of Bob's punch," she managed to reply. "It's lethal."

"Do you want to lie down?"

"No, but I think I should go home," she said, struggling to stay calm.

"I'll find Randy and get your coat."

They drove in silence to her parents' house. She could see the concern and affection in Randy's eyes as she fended off his questions and abruptly changed the subject. "Evan seems very nice," she said, watching him carefully.

"He is," Randy asserted. "He's probably the nicest person I've ever met. He works so hard and he's so talented."

Sam remained quiet for several minutes, carefully considering her next statement. "Randy," she began, "do you remember when you told me about that girl in Abilene?"

"Yes," he said, his posture growing wary.

"Is there anything else you need to tell me?"

"Like what?"

"You know," she said, looking at him accusingly.

Randy did not reply, but she could see him clutching the steering wheel with whitened knuckles. "There's nothing to tell," he muttered. "Not anymore."

XXXXXX

They had become engaged a few months later. Evan sent her a humorous note stating that she was far too good for Randy and, by the time the wedding arrived, she had almost forgotten her suspicions. But like a sore tooth that she couldn't resist probing with her tongue, sometimes she had to test the matter, casually mentioning his name and watching Randy's reaction.

Randy responded in kind with casual replies and occasional tidbits of news. As far as she could tell they spoke on the phone once a month or, in the rare instances that their schedules had them in St Louis at the same time, they spent a few hours together, Evan sometimes coming to their house for a meal.

She had become fond of Evan. He was completely without guile and although she could detect a touch of hero-worship in his attitude towards Randy, she began to wonder if she had not assigned an unwarranted significance to their whispered conversation. Randy treated him with a gentle, brotherly affection, but sometimes… sometimes she noticed his hand resting on Evan's shoulder or caught a certain timbre in his voice when he spoke of him that started her questions all over again.

The Christmas after they were married Evan's parents went on a cruise and Randy insisted that Evan, who was in town for a few days before New Year's, stay with them. She had only just discovered she was pregnant and, feeling queasy one night, she left their bed and went downstairs, planning to find some soda crackers to nibble on.

Evan was sitting in their darkened family room watching the dying embers of the fire they had lit earlier. "Sam! I'm so sorry!" he exclaimed, jumping to his feet. "I couldn't sleep, so I came down here to think. I didn't mean to disturb you."

"You didn't disturb me at all," she said, carrying the box of crackers into the family room and sitting next to him on the couch. "I've heard of morning sickness," she said with a wry grin, "but I never expected evening sickness."

"Are you okay? Can I get you anything?"

"I'm fine, really. All I need is a couple of these," she said extending the box to him. "Have one. Have as many as you like. Take a box or ten home with you. When I told Randy they helped, he ran out to Costco and bought four cases."

"He's really excited about the baby," Evan said. "He told me he wants a little girl to spoil rotten. He's going to be a great dad."

"Bob was awfully hard on him as a kid."

"Well, Bob's old-school, but I think he'll be a terrific grandpa."

"You're right," Sam answered. "Randy tells me you'll be joining him in the new year."

"That's right. I'll be with the ECW roster. I'm really looking forward to it," he said. "Hopefully, now I'm a little more settled, I can get a place of my own. It's ridiculous for someone my age to be living with his parents."

"Somewhere near?"

"No. I thought I'd go somewhere that has better weather. Florida maybe."

"Randy will be disappointed."

"He'll have plenty of opportunity to get sick of me on the road," he grinned.

The road. Suddenly, she had a vision of Randy and Evan drinking beer together after a show, laughing together as they shared a world she could barely understand, returning to the hotel together, maybe even sharing a room. A sudden swell of nausea threatened her as she clamped her hand over her mouth, trying to swallow it back.

Even in the darkness, Evan could make out her stricken expression. "You know, don't you?" As she nodded, he whispered, "You must hate me."

"No, I don't" she said, reaching out to squeeze his hand.

"We stopped as soon as it started getting serious between you two," he said urgently. "I swear."

"I know," she said softly, "and I know that you were the one to stop it."

"Randy thinks he can have everything," he exclaimed with uncharacteristic bitterness. "A career, a home, a wife and family and – and-"

"You."

"It's impossible; we both know it. Anyway, he loves you and he'll love your baby and I'd – I'd never-"

"I know you wouldn't and how can I blame you for loving Randy?" she asked. "And how can I blame Randy for loving you? It's weird, but I actually feel very sorry for you. You have a lot to give; I wish you would find someone."

"Don't," he said flatly. "Don't feel sorry for me. I'm really very lucky. I have Randy's friendship. We were friends from the first and we've managed to keep that."

"I hope you think of me as a friend."

"Of course I do!" he exclaimed. "Do you see what I mean? I'm very lucky. How many other people in this situation would be able to keep two dear friends?"

Sam leaned her head against his shoulder and they sat in silence for many minutes, until Evan, noticing that her breathing had become deep and slow, realised that she had fallen asleep. He gently tucked a lock of her dark hair behind her ear. He was fortunate, but recalling Sam's expression earlier, he knew he would have to be very careful when he went on the road with WWE. He and Randy were on different rosters, but their paths would crossing frequently. He would have to take great care when in Randy's company. Samantha trusted him, but that trust, while a great gift, was also a heavy burden.

XXXXXX

Randy woke with a start and realised that he was alone in the bed. He had told Sam that she wouldn't disturb him; it was something of a joke that he could sleep through anything. Assorted members of the company swore that he had snored the night away once when their hotel fire alarm had gone off.

He climbed out of bed and headed downstairs, stopping short when he saw Sam, her head resting against Evan's shoulder, sound asleep.

"So much for my scintillating conversation," he whispered with a grin.

Standing behind the couch, gazing down on them he felt his heart clench. For a second he allowed himself to imagine that it was always like this: his wife, his child on the way and Evan, a beloved member of the family. All of them, sharing a home; the people he loved best in the world.

His eyes locked with Evan's and, for a fleeting instant, Evan's guard dropped and he stared back at Randy, his love and longing visible. Then the mask slipped back into place as he said, "You'd better take her upstairs."

Randy effortlessly lifted his wife from the couch as she mumbled and protested that he shouldn't carry her, she could walk perfectly well on her own. He returned a few minutes later and pulled a couple of beers from the fridge, handing one to Evan. "The doctor says that the wooziness should stop in another few weeks. I keep telling her that I don't care if she eats crackers in the bed, but she insists on getting up."

"She's probably restless and excited about the baby."

"I guess…" Randy said, his voice trailing off into silence as he finished his beer.

Evan set his beer aside and stared silently at the remnants of the fire as Randy reached out to brush his knuckles against Evan's cheek. He drew back slightly and said, "Go back to bed. Go upstairs to your wife."

XXXXXX

Randy pocketed his phone with a sigh. Evan was still not returning his calls, but every week or two, he would show up unexpectedly. He refused to discuss his eventual return, insisting that it was complicated, and would make no definite plans for his next visit, simply saying that he would come when he could. He had lost his temper last time, but Evan had merely smiled and told him to be patient.

Patience had never been his strong suit and the accident had made him realise how short and uncertain life could be. Too short to waste waiting, he thought, determined that the next time they met, he would force Evan to make some sort of commitment. This half-life that they shared was not good enough any longer. It never had been, but he had fooled himself into believing that something was better than nothing, telling himself that Evan's friendship and companionship was enough and later… Their snatched encounters had left them both depressed and saddened. He had made the wrong choice; he loved Sam and adored Alanna, but he could no more exist without Evan in his life, than he could stop eating or breathing.

XXXXXX

Two years earlier

Sam sat at the end of the unmade bed, her head buried in her hands. The baby had cried all night, dropped off to sleep for an hour and started again. She had been fed, changed, burped, cuddled, sung-to, rocked and soothed, but the fretful cries continued. The doctor said it was colic; that it would pass eventually. Her mother told her to let her cry; she'd wear herself out and fall asleep. Randy had suggested that they hire a nanny to give her a break, but she knew he was puzzled by her distraction and inability to cope. By some grim irony, Alanna stopped crying almost the instant her father came home, slept sweetly through the night and gurgled contentedly in his arms all day, only beginning to wail when the door shut behind him.

She picked up the small velvet box sitting on the night table and carried it into her enormous walk-in closet. She punched in the combination of the wall safe and opened it, tossing the box in to rest on top of many others. The shelves of the closet were crammed with a dizzying assortment of boxes and bags bearing the logos of the finest designers and most exclusive boutiques the world had to offer. Randy never returned from a road-trip without one. She had over a dozen pairs of gloves of the softest kid-leather imaginable, the lightest of cashmere shawls in a rainbow of colours and more designer handbags than she could count. Luscious silk lingerie spilled out of the boxes to make shimmering pools on the shelves, crowded for space by dozens of subtly-pattered scarves. She loathed every single item; she didn't want or need this ridiculous array of luxury goods that Randy bought to assuage his own guilt.

But more than the scarves, perfume and purses, she hated the jewellery. That was when she had known for certain. When Randy handed her a blue Tiffany box containing an aquamarine and diamond bracelet, when he dropped a box from Bulgari holding a pair of cabochon emerald earrings into her lap, when he fastened a pearl choker around her neck, but could not look her in the eye, she knew.

She couldn't seem to lose the weight she had gained while pregnant and she felt fat, sloppy and unattractive. She felt bad-tempered, tired and whiny all the time and, to her horror, she sometimes felt stirrings of resentment against Alanna. Randy had been appalled to catch her hanging over the crib one night, hissing at the baby, "Cry, damn you, and let him see what it's like." That was when he suggested the nanny. She had hysterically refused and on his next trip home he had presented her with a star sapphire ring.

The ringing phone distracted her from her misery. Thrilled to hear Evan's voice she told him to stop by and have some lunch. A foot injury had forced him out of action for a few months and he'd flown into St Louis for his mother's birthday.

Sam was mopping the kitchen floor when he arrived. Wouldn't you know, she thought as she answered the door, Alanna stopped crying the second the doorbell rang. She hugged him affectionately, but took up the mop again saying, "I have to finish the floor. The cleaning lady is coming tomorrow."

"Um – doesn't that defeat the purpose of having a cleaning lady?"

"No!" she exclaimed, pushing her hair back from her face. "I don't want her to think I'm a slob."

Concerned by the slightly hysterical note in her voice, Evan gently took the mop from her and led her to a seat at the kitchen table. "I don't think she's paid to have an opinion and Randy would have a fit if he could see you doing this."

"He would," she said. As tears spilled down her face, she picked up a scarf lying on the table to wipe them away.

Evan handed her a tissue. "I don't know anything about this sort of thing, but even I can tell that scarf is awfully expensive."

"It is," she sniffled. "It's an Hermès. Randy brought it back from Paris last time he was there."

"It's very nice."

"It would be a lot nicer if it wasn't identical to the one he bought the time before," she said, her voice growing hard.

"I guess he just saw it and it made him think about you," he said, trying to conciliate her.

"I guess he went into the shop and picked out the most expensive one or," she said as fresh tears welled, "just called them and had it sent to his room." She blew her nose. "When we first started going out he used to bring me back a little gift. Usually, it was something that only cost a few dollars: some tacky souvenir or a silly t-shirt or something from the gift shop like a snow globe."

"That's because he missed you and was thinking about you."

"Then they started getting fancier after we were married. The first couple of times, I was thrilled. Who wouldn't be excited to get a Burberry bag from London or a Louis Vuitton scarf from Paris? Then it started getting ridiculous. Come on," she said, standing and pulling Evan with her. "I'll show you."

He followed her upstairs and blinked in surprise at the contents of the closet. "Randy's always been incredibly generous. And insecure," he added softly, catching hold of her hands. "He needs you to know how much he loves you and this is how he shows it. Most women I know, including my mother, would kill for even one or two of these things."

"Here," Sam said, shoving a flat orange Hermès box and a Gucci pocketbook at him, "take these. Give them to her for her birthday and tell your brothers to come over and pick something out for their girlfriends. I don't want this crap. He's not buying it because he loves me and misses me; it's guilt that makes him do it."

"I know he feels bad about leaving you alone so much, especially with a baby. He buys tons of stuff for Alanna," Evan temporised.

"Then how do you explain this?" she asked indignantly, flinging the safe door open, picking up a jumbled profusion of gold and silver and throwing it across the room. "Or this?" she cried, pulling a lavender jade necklace from its box, "Or these?" she shouted tossing a box containing a pair of diamond chandelier earrings at him. "He's screwing around and buys all this stuff to make himself feel better about it!" She collapsed to the floor, sobbing bitterly.

Evan gently pulled her to her feet and held her while she wept, helpless in the face of her despair. He couldn't deny her accusations because he knew every word she said was true. Randy's behaviour was common knowledge in the company. "I'm so sorry," he whispered. "I wish there was something I could do to help."

Sam pulled away from him and dried her eyes, staring silently at him for several minutes. "There is," she finally said.

"Anything, I swear."

"Get back together with Randy."