I've been asleep about an hour when someone knocks on my bedroom door.

"Angela, can I talk to you?"

What could Tony want in the middle of the night? I suddenly remember almost six years ago, when he knocked and sort of apologized. Yet he still judged me for dating Grant. And, yes, he said that thing about not "doing something dumb like sleeping with his employer."

A lot has happened in six years. We still haven't been to bed together in that sense. There've been times when we've come close, but it's too much to risk. And, although Tony has a very healthy libido—well, he's athletic and Italian—he's also old-fashioned in some ways. He told me in Jamaica that he wants to wait till we get married, if we ever get married.

As for my libido, well, I sublimate a lot, put that energy into my work. I eat more chocolate than I used to. I was with Geoffrey for awhile three years ago, but that was before I admitted to myself that I'm in love with Tony. Since then, I keep it simple, hugging and kissing at most. I do that with Tony, too, but I wouldn't want to do more with another man than I do with him. It wouldn't feel right, even if we don't have any real commitment.

So, yes, it crosses my mind that he's knocking because he wants to change things between us. But why tonight? I thought he'd be mad at me for kicking his study group out, sending them to a motel. Maybe that's why he's knocking. I don't really want an argument right now, but we may as well hash this out.

"Angela? You awake?"

"Just a minute, Tony." I put on my robe and go to the door. As I open it, I say, "Let me just find my slippers and we can talk downstairs." Maybe in the kitchen. That seems to be where we have most of our (relatively) private conversations.

He shakes his head and whispers, "This can't wait. Can I come in?"

"Of course," I say, although this feels funny. When was the last time Tony and I had a conversation in my room? Well, there was the time after he convinced me not to marry Geoffrey. And there was the very early (although post-something-dumb) discussion about my underwear.

He closes the door behind him and he looks around for something. Then he spots the little cane chair I have by the window. He takes off the rag doll that I got from Daddy and sets it on the bed. Then he scoots the chair closer to the bed.

So I get back into bed, moving to the side I usually don't sleep on, the one furthest from the door. I absent-mindedly stroke Mandy the Doll's yarn hair.

"It's like this, Angela," he whispers.

"Tony, I'm sorry I made your group go to a motel," I whisper back. I don't know why we're whispering, except that it's late and he probably doesn't want the kids to know he's in my room and get the wrong idea.

"Yeah, me, too."

"Oh, it didn't work out as a study spot?"

"No, it was OK. But it's not your fault. None of this is your fault."

"None of what?"

He bites his lip and then inhales and exhales slowly. "Angela, I didn't plan for this, believe me."

I hold Mandy tighter. "Plan for what?"

"Well, you know, there were a couple girls in my study group. And I had, um, sparks with one of them."

"I see." Not Debbie. I've met her before. She was in that literature discussion group that Sam joined, the one run by Sam's brief crush, the married professor. Debbie is smart and funny, but she's also got glasses and some extra weight. She looks a little like I did at her age, she even has brown hair, but she's got far more confidence than I did. Tony likes her but she's not his type.

"Um, Kathleen."

He didn't introduce her to me by name. But she'd have to have been the tall, slender blonde. His type. But she's got shorter hair and is probably a decade younger than I am.

"I thought she was sort of annoying at first, but we have some things in common. We both love art and Italy. And she's working her way through college at a later age than average."

"I see. So did you ask her out?" Is that what this is about? He didn't ask my permission, or blessing or whatever it is he wants from me, when he went out with the girl from the health club, or let our tenant Michelle twist him around her little finger. And those were both after our talk in Jamaica.

"Not exactly."

"What exactly did you do?"

"Well, Debbie and the guys packed it in when it started to get late. But Kathleen and I kept looking at slides. And, well, they happened to be some suggestive artwork. Like Rodin's The Kiss. You know that one?"

"Yes, I know that one."

"And, I don't know, we were sitting there in the dark and we kissed."

I hold Mandy very tightly. "I see."

"And then we—"

"Tony, please. I don't want to know what happened next."

"Angela, I need to tell you."

I'm trying not to cry. Why is he telling me this? He slept with someone else! Why did he do that and then why did he race home to, what, brag about it?

I know, he's been with other women since we met, but I don't think anything like this happened with the girl from the health club, or Michelle. Why is Kathleen different? And how could he be with her, a woman he hardly knows, when I've known and loved him for so long? I thought maybe he loved me, too, but apparently not. What am I, just his best friend that he can harmlessly flirt with? Does he expect me to be happy for him?

I say none of this. I just sit here silently, preparing myself to stand the details. I could send him out, not just out of my room, but out of my house, out of my life. But I may as well know everything. It'll make it easier to let go of him, or at least of the silly dream of romance with him someday. He's not the man I thought he was, and it's better to be disillusioned than to live a lie.

"We started making out. Necking and then we took off our shirts. I undid her bra."

Even that is more than he's done with me. But I'm the uptight on-a-pedestal "lady," not someone to fool around with, right?

"We fooled around some more. And then she put her hand on my belt."

No, no, NO! I don't want to hear any more!

"And I said no."

I stare at him. "You said no?"

"Yeah, it didn't feel right."

"Oh, are you going to save it for when you two get married?"

He swallows. "OK, I deserve that. But I'm not going to see her again."

"Why not? She sounds perfect for you."

"She's all right. I mean, Frankie was more of a 'perfect match,' and I didn't marry her."

I don't ask if he slept with Frankie. I don't want to know. Instead, still in my bitter tone, I say, "There are a lot of women you haven't married."

"Yeah. Because only two have even tempted me to make a serious commitment."

"Marie and what lucky lady?"

He looks right at me, although he's been looking away a lot as he's talked about Kathleen. "Do you have to ask?"

"If you mean me, Tony, we never made a commitment. We just made a commitment to consider a commitment down the road. If we had a commitment, I'd like to think you wouldn't have done what you did tonight. But you were free to do more than you did."

"Then why do I feel like I betrayed you?"

I blink. "You do?"

"Yeah. Not as much as I could've, but to even be in that situation, after all we've been through, especially these past few months—" He shakes his head.

"So why did it happen? As much as did happen."

"I don't know," he says very quietly.

I look at him, this man I love so much, who has hurt me so much, and not just tonight, even if it's never deliberate. I could send him away. I could cuddle Mandy like I did when I was little and the kids at school teased me. But that's not the comfort I want right now.

"Tony," I say and, despite the whispering, it has elements of both an order and a plea, "take off your shirt and come to bed."