The clock seems to be ticking in slow motion. I’m pacing back and forth, waiting for Beckett to arrive. Playing out the possible scenes of what’s about to happen in my head. Do I let him have it or calmly ask for an explanation? Hit him out of the blue with the fact that I know he’s married?

“So, Beckett, you need to call your wife before we go out?”

“What time’s your divorce hearing Monday?”

“How long do you have a babysitter tonight?”

I should have had Tish here to do one of her interrogations.

The sound of the buzzer breaks my train of thought and I buzz him in. My heart goes into overdrive as I hear him heading up the stairs. I wipe my sweating palms on my slacks. I open the door and see him carrying flowers.

Typical of a cheating husband.

He starts to smile at me then notices I’m not dressed to go out. “A.J., are you feeling all right?”

“Not really. C’mon in. We need to talk.”

He studies my face as he hands me a batch of carnations. “This sounds serious.”

“You could say that.” I take the flowers and lay them on the kitchen counter, then turn to him, fold my arms and put one foot in front like a pissed off parent.

What the hell. Just say it.

“So. When were you gonna tell me you’re married?”

His face drops. “Let me explain.”

“I can’t wait.”

He gestures toward the couch. “May we sit?”

“Whatever.”

We head toward the couch. He sits on one end while I take the other end. I’m leaning forward, ready to pounce while I squeeze the life out of a cushion. Because at some point I’m gonna let him have it. “A.J., I’m only married in the legal sense right now.”

Oh, give me a break. “Uh, is there any other kind?”

“This is different.”

Sure it is. “Does your wife know that you’re dating other women?”

“A.J., please, let me explain. I assure you, it’s not what you think.”

I fold my arms again. “Fine. This oughta be good.”

“Do you remember the story a few years ago about the plane that disappeared over the ocean? The authorities were convinced it was shot down over hostile territory as they had radar to back it up which showed a rocket heading toward the plane. But there was a wild theory that it was hijacked by terrorists and landed somewhere. No one actually believed that. But the life insurance companies refused to pay benefits to the surviving family members, contending that there was no physical evidence the plane was shot down. And that there was a remote chance the passengers were alive. So this has been tied up in the courts for some time. The passengers were never declared legally dead.”

“Yeah, but what’s that got to do with anything?”

“My wife was on that plane.”

My jaw slowly drops. The anger I’d been holding in pours out of my body, instantly replaced by guilt.

Oh. My. God.

He’s a widower.

I see his hands trembling a bit, so he folds them. “In any event, the case was unsolved until recently, when some of the fuselage of the plane washed up on shore. There was finally concrete evidence that it had been shot down. So obviously my wife died that day along with the other passengers and crew, as everyone had always thought. But she will not be declared...” he pauses and looks down. “...until Monday.” His voice begins to crack. “Which, of course, effectively ends my marriage even though I’ve considered myself a widower for years.” His eyes start to well up.

And to say I feel like shit is putting it mildly.

He looks up and locks eyes with me. “A.J., I didn’t tell you because I don’t like to talk about it and it happened so long ago. I had moved on with my life but until now my marriage was still a legal matter.” A single tear rolls down his cheek.

I slide over, wrap my arms around him and pull him close. He hugs me tight and rests his head on my shoulder. I gently stroke his hair. “Beckett, I’m so sorry I jumped to conclusions. But when your sister mentioned you were married, I simply thought you were a cheating husband. I feel horrible that I upset you. Please forgive me.”

“No apology necessary. It’s understandable.”

His head is still on my shoulder. “My God, how awful for you.” I want to ask about his wife, but not now. Maybe not ever. We sit there hugging for several minutes. Finally he lets go and leans back. I brush the tears from his face. “Tell you what... how about we go to a fun movie tonight? I feel like I need to cheer you up.”

He slowly nods. “That sounds like an excellent idea.”

“Good. Let me throw on something decent and we’ll head out.” Just as I get up Gypsy jumps on his lap.

He smiles a bit. “Well, hello Gypsy. How nice to see you again.” She rubs her head against his chest and he begins to stroke her fur.

“She knows when someone is sad.”

“Yes, cats do seem to have a sixth sense about that.” She puts her paws on his chest, stretches, and gives him a lick on the chin. He pulls her close and gives her a hug.

“They also know when someone has a good heart.”

The tears flow.

Not his.

Mine.

***

I CAN TELL BECKETT has the situation with his wife weighing on his mind as we arrive back at my apartment. Dinner was quiet as I avoided any mention of his marriage, and though the movie was hilarious it only got mild laughter from him.

All because I stirred up something that should have been left alone. I know, any woman would have done the same thing, but I still feel like the bad guy.

Guilt and sympathy do battle for my emotions as I take his hand and get out of the car. I open the door and start to lead him up the stairs, but he stops. I turn to face him. “Don’t you want to come up?”

“I’ve been quite the wet blanket tonight. Not sure I’d be very good company.”

“You’re always good company. Besides, you didn’t spend much time with Gypsy and I know she’ll be deeply hurt if you don’t come up.” I see her in the window and point up at her. “See, she’s waiting for you. She’ll take it out on me and keep me up all night if you don’t come up. It’s her choice. And she knows you need a hug.”

He laughs a bit. “You seem to have the same sixth sense as your cat.”

“Doesn’t take a clairvoyant to know you should have some company. C’mon. Got some new cat toys to try out.”

“Well, I certainly can’t turn down an offer like that.”

***

THIRTY MINUTES LATER Gypsy is drunk from catnip and curls up in her bed. “Beckett, I think you wore her out.”

He sits on the couch next to me. “It seems so. Funny how something as simple as playing with a cat can put things in perspective.”

“How so?”

“Life’s simple pleasures. Gypsy only needs three things. Love, food and a good home. Since she has all three in abundance, she’s perfectly happy. If only our desires were as simple. But we’re too often distracted by material things, ambition. Imagine how enjoyable life would be if we focused on the same needs as a cat.”

I wrap one arm around him and pull him close until his head is resting on my shoulder. I kiss the top of his head. No words are necessary.

An hour later I note he’s yawning, as I’m sure the emotions of the day have caught up with him. I walk him to his car and end the night with a strong hug.

He leans back, his arms around the small of my back. “Thank you, A.J.”

“I’m not the one who deserves any thanks. Thank you for not being upset with me.”

“Had I been in a similar position, I would have wanted to know the truth as well.”

“Well, again, I’m sorry I made an emotional time for you even worse.”

And then he looks into my soul and says something which creates the biggest lump in my throat ever.

“My wife would have liked you.”

We say goodnight. I head back up the stairs, tears streaming down my face. I can’t help but think about the woman he loved and lost.

And wonder if I remotely measure up. Or if any woman ever can.