She's more than a little drunk and she's so glad they found a cab, especially as she peers out the window and sees the snow falling thickly in the light of the streetlamps. She's cuddled close to Mike, his arms around her as she leans into him. He kisses her hair.

She feels… she doesn't know how she feels, actually. Mortified. Angry. Worried that Mike believes his father. Not just… not just the "frigid" thing, but that his father said that she had Mike wrapped around her little finger… she doesn't believe that's the case. If anything, it's the other way around. She wants to have a relationship with Mike where they are partners, not where one person has all the power…

But she's also worried about the frigid thing. She knows that she's more cerebral than physical, even though being with him has finally allowed her to stop overthinking and overanalyzing everything, especially when they make love. But… he has so much experience, he's been with so many women. How does she measure up?

She knows that he loves her. She knows that. But… what if she bores him? What if he gets tired of her because she's not exciting enough for him, or because sometimes she just can't get out of her head, or because-

The cab pulls up outside her building and she rummages in her purse for cash for the cabbie. Mike rests his hand on hers and gets out his own wallet. She opens the door of the cab and steps out, wobbling for an instant before Mike joins her, his hand clasping her elbow warmly. She feels cold, all of the sudden, standing here in the snowstorm, and she needs his warmth, she needs his love, she needs him. He guides her into her apartment building and they greet the doorman on duty before heading to the elevator. They don't speak, and when they get to her floor he finds his keys in his pocket and unlocks the door.

'Want to get ready for bed?' Mike suggests. She nods and they shed their coats and shoes and he goes to get them water and she heads down the hall to the bedroom.

She's exhausted and drunk and she wants to go to bed, but she wants to make sure he doesn't think of her that way. But she's just so tired…

She uses the bathroom, brushing her teeth and her hair. She yawns widely, then undresses, tossing her clothes into the hamper and the bag for dry cleaning before walking back into the bedroom.

Mike is there, already in bed, and her heart flips over as she hears his gentle breathing, sees his face in repose. She gets out a nightgown from her dresser drawer and steps into a new pair of underwear before climbing into bed next to him. Although he's asleep, he turns over in bed and moves closer to her instinctively. She closes her eyes and drifts off to sleep.

'Lizzie,' she hears him say.

She opens her eyes and feels a pounding headache begin. His face swims in front of her eyes and she groans, then closes her eyes again. God, she's so hungover.

'I've got some aspirin and my miracle cure for you,' he says, and she opens her eyes again. She feels so nauseous and it takes all her strength to push herself up and accept the aspirin and the drink. She takes the pills and then drinks the egg cream as quickly as she can without getting a brain freeze, then hands the glass back to Mike and slides down in bed again, closing her eyes.

She feels him stroke her back. 'Do you need anything?' he asks softly.

'Just you. Can you hold me, please?' she tells him before she can think, the words just spilling out. He doesn't say anything and she opens her eyes to look at him.

He's looking down at her with an expression of such love and astonishment she smiles despite the pounding in her head.

He clears his throat. 'Yeah,' he says, and smiles at her, a handsome, happy smile. He climbs back into bed next to her, pulling her close to him, her back resting against his chest, his chin on her shoulder. He hugs her tight and turns his head to whisper in her ear, 'You're the light of my life, you know.'

She rests her hands on his and squeezes them tight. 'I love you.'

He runs a hand over her stomach, caressing her. 'I never thought it would be like this.'

'Me neither,' she admits softly, sleepily, feeling warm and loved despite the atrocious hangover and her doubts last night.

He sounds oddly tentative when he asks, 'It wasn't like this with the Duke?'

'No,' she says, remembering how it was with Lucas, how she felt. And she'd loved him, she thought she'd love him forever, but with Mike… 'I loved him,' she begins slowly, and his arms tighten around her. 'And I thought I was in love with him, but-oh, Mike, I'm so in love with you. I look at you and feel dizzy with it.'

'Oh, Lizzie,' he says, and she can hear the smile in his voice. 'God, how did I get so lucky?'

'I'm the lucky one,' she tells him, and yawns.

'You sleepy?' he asks. She nods. 'Okay, honey, why don't you go back to sleep, and when you get up we'll have breakfast. All right?'

'I love you,' she says again, and closes her eyes.

When she wakes up it's early afternoon and the pounding in her head as dissipated, thank God. The bed is empty and she pushes herself up and out, heading to the bathroom to shower first. She emerges feeling refreshed and hungry and goes into the kitchen.

He's at the kitchen table, drinking a cup of coffee and reading the paper, and he looks up and smiles at her. 'Feeling better?'

'Much,' she says, smiling at him. 'Hungry, too.'

'Why don't we go to the diner?' he suggests, folding the paper. She sees that he's circled something and she steps closer to look at it. It's movie times for a film, The Last of the Mohicans.

'Do you want to see that?' she asks, tapping her finger on the page.

'Yeah, thought it might be nice if we went,' he says, shrugging.

'Sure,' she agrees, though she's not really interested in war films. They've done a lot of the things she wants to do; they should do something for him. 'Why don't we go after lunch? Where's it playing?'

'It's at the Beekman Theater and the Orpheum. Which one do you want to do?'

'Have you been to the Beekman?' she asks, and he shakes his head. 'Let's go, then, it's really nice. It even has a bar.'

He smiles. 'Sounds good. There's a showing at 2:30, sound good?'

She nods and says, 'I'm just going to shower quickly and then we can go, all right?'

'Sure, babe,' he says, and grabs her hand to pull her down for a kiss.

She smiles at him when they break apart. 'I'll be right back.'

When they reach the diner, she eats ravenously, her appetite returning as the headache recedes. He keeps up a running monologue throughout lunch, talking about the book he's reading, a biography of Teddy Roosevelt; the upcoming basketball game in the league he's just joined at the 92nd Street Y, the movie. She listens to him, interested in what he has to say, and asks questions when she has them. As he talks, she feels a deep, profound sense of relief. They have things to say to each other. Their relationship isn't just about sex, as incredible as the sex is. She feels herself blush as the memory of yesterday morning and she drops her head to hide her flushed face. Mike breaks off mid-sentence.

'You okay?' he asks, and she nods, keeping her gaze fixed on her now-empty plate.

He presses his knee against hers and at the slight pressure warmth starts to spread low in her stomach. Our relationship might not only be about sex, but sex is certainly a big part of it, she thinks, shifting in her seat, resisting the urge to bury her head in her hands. God, she thinks, as he increases the pressure in an attempt to get her to look up. When he eases his knee forward, encouraging her to part her legs, she moves away from him and looks up. He laughs out loud and she smiles, embarrassed and aroused, and sets down her fork with more force than necessary.

'I'll pay the check,' she says hurriedly, rummaging in her purse for her wallet. She grabs the bill off the table and takes it up to the cashier, desperately trying to will down the color in her cheeks.

He comes up behind her and wraps his arms around her waist as she accepts her change from the cashier. At his touch, she jumps slightly and he laughs.

'Ready to go?' he asks, and she nods, turning in his embrace. He drops his arms and takes her hand and they walk out of the diner.

'So d'you still want to go to the movie?' he asks as they pause outside of the diner.

No! she wants to exclaim, of course not, I want you, I need you… She forces herself to say, 'Of course. Let's walk.' Maybe the cold air will help, she thinks.

He nods and squeezes her hand and they begin to walk down to the theater.

When they arrive, he stands in line to buy the tickets and she goes to buy snacks-popcorn with extra salt and butter, a beer for Mike and chardonnay for her, and then nonpareils. Thankfully the beer and wine are in bottles and she's given cups and a tray to carry everything. She meets him outside the theater.

'Thanks, babe,' he says, handing their tickets to the ticket collector. He takes the tray from her hands as they make their way into the theater, choosing seats in the back. When they are settled, she collects their coats and drapes them on the seat next to hers and he pours her a glass of wine and opens his beer, taking a sip. They still have fifteen minutes before the movie starts.

'What interests you about history?' she asks.

He thinks for a moment. 'I like learning things-not just things, but things about people. That's why I like biographies. You figure out what makes people tick, you can figure out why people do things, and some things never change.'

She nods. 'That makes sense.'

He grins at her. 'What do you like to read?'

'Novels, mostly,' she says. 'Poetry, sometimes. I prefer reading women authors as a rule. I think that's important. I suppose the books I like best are psychologically interesting too,' she realizes, and he smiles at her.

'What's your favorite book?'

It's her turn to think. 'Honestly, I have so many. One of my favorites is The Transit of Venus, by Shirley Hazzard.'

'What's it about?'

'Mm, it's hard to explain. It's about two sisters who come from Australia to England and the family they get entangled with, and the men they love and the lives they live… it's incredible. It's like a puzzle, almost, the way the book falls together, how the pieces you think don't mean anything turn out to hold the key to the entire picture.' She stops and looks at him, curious to hear his thoughts.

'That sounds interesting,' he says. 'Can I borrow it?'

'Yes, if you want to,' she says slowly. 'But don't feel obligated to-'

'I don't,' he says, interrupting her. 'But I want to share things with you, Lizzie. Sharin' books we like… maybe you can read one of my favorites.'

She smiles at him, taking his hand. 'I'd like that.'

The lights dim and she releases his hand to settle back in her seat. She turns to look at him; his gaze is fixed on the screen and she smiles before helping herself to a handful of popcorn.

'Here we go,' he says quietly as the movie starts.

Despite her disinterest in the film, she's immediately captivated. It's a beautiful film, with a soundtrack that seems to be part of it, as opposed to distracting noise. And the story… she's entranced. It's incredible.

From time to time, she glances over at Mike, who is equally entranced. As the movie goes on, he wraps his arm around her, and when Hawkeye and Cora kiss for the first time his arm tightens around her.

She weeps when Uncas dies, then Alice, and she can barely see the end of the movie for her tears. The lights come up and she's still crying.

'So, you liked it?' he asks her, and she chuckles, wiping away tears.

'It was incredible.'

'I agree,' he says, standing up and stretching. 'So, what d'you want to do for the rest of the afternoon?'

She grins at him. 'I have a couple ideas.'