There was no specific moment to remember after my birthday. The next time we were together, he was helping me move into my new house. A wonderful three story brownstone close enough to his work, far enough away from his . . . other life. Maybe I was delusional thinking that I was part of his real life and his wife was for show. I only knew that it was me he came to when the case was too much. When something went wrong. When something went right. Somehow I always knew exactly what he needed in that moment in time.

I will never be sure if she had suspicions about me, or if it was the way he began to distance himself from her. But he came to me one night in a mood that I couldn't identify. He paced the kitchen as I cooked. I knew by now that whatever was bothering him, he needed to mull it over first. I would glance to him every now and then, making sure he was alright.

When he sat gracelessly with a frustrated sigh, I placed a tumbler of whiskey in his reach. A ghost of a smile crossed his lips before he downed the glass. He leaned more fully into the chair as his head tilted back to stare at the ceiling. His hand twisted the glass round and round on the table. I recognized the signs of a winless situation. Moving to stand behind him, I put my hands to use. Slowly as I massaged his neck and shoulders, the tension eased. His head turned to rest on one hand as he laid his own on the other. We stayed motionless for long moments. Then he spoke.

The past months, having me here, had been more wonderful and beneficial to him then he had ever imagined. To have a safe haven where he could express himself without censorship. It had become invaluable. I remarked that this haven would always be here for him. To which he replied back with the last thing I could have ever imagined.

She had gotten pregnant. On purpose without discussing it with him. They had agreed to wait for a few more years before trying. Now, without explanation she had stopped taking precautions. I sat down beside him, my mind racing. Was he happy?

In my heart of hearts, I knew why he was so reluctant to bring children into this world. Not just because of the things he saw every day, but because of his own childhood. In one of our earlier times together we had discussed the ramifications of my conceiving. I assured him that I was always prepared and we had never had cause to worry. He told me his reasons then. If not for the fact that he was already dead, I could have happily murdered his father.

And now, she had gone and done the one thing that terrified him the most. Bringing a child into the world where he might repeat his father's behavior. I knew that in order for him to deal with this, I would need to remind him of why I was living here in Virginia.

I spoke softly of his infinite patience, his kindness, his pure heart. Most important was his ability to remove himself from the situation to see all sides. He was rarely quick to anger and had never once raised a hand to anyone in anything other than self defense. No matter how deserving. I spoke straight from my heart and I realized that I envied her. I would have given anything to bear his child. I could never betray him by doing what she had done. But the thought of mutual agreement was euphoric.

He leaned forward and kissed me deeply. His hands cupping my face as he looked into my eyes. He told me that I was his only solace and he didn't know what he would do without me. I told him that he would be an amazing father and no matter the circumstance, he would know how to handle things as they came.

He stayed with me that night. When I mentioned he would be expected elsewhere, he quieted me in the best way possible. We held each other and talked, we laughed, we touched, we tasted. It was wonderful.

Life went on as usual. We saw each other at least once a week. He spent the night every other time he came over. Of course we spoke every day. If he was away on a case, particularly a bad one, I heard from him more than that. Everything was going so well, that something had to go wrong.

He and his team were called to Boston to deal with a bomber. I tried to never keep up with the cases he worked on. It disturbed me to think of the dangers he faced on a daily basis. I knew he was one of the best in the world at what he did. It didn't make facing the prospect of losing him any less daunting. I wouldn't watch television and limited my time on the Internet. I knew I would obsess over every little detail if I allowed myself.

I remember exactly where I was when I heard the news. I was standing in line to get coffee at the cafe near my house. The morning talk show was interrupted with a special broadcast. An explosion in Boston. FBI agents. Number of dead unknown. Somehow, I made it to a table before my legs gave out. I watched as the reporter gave vague, unhelpful information. I felt like screaming until I had no breath left in my body. I was so intent on the screen that the stranger sitting behind me alerted me to the fact that my cell phone was ringing. My hands were shaking and I nearly dropped it on the floor. I didn't recognize the number and that only fueled my fear.

I will never be able to describe the feeling of relief as I heard his voice. The first words out of his mouth were, it wasn't me and I'm alright. I took a shaky breath before trying to respond. But no words would come. I could only produce a slight sound that I hope sounded positive. He repeated that he was okay but that he had to go. Had others to call. Others to check on. But he would see me tomorrow. He hung up without waiting for a reply which was just as well since I was still incapable of talking.

I dropped my head into my hands and took several deep breaths to calm my racing heart. When I felt I could stand without ending up on my knees, I headed for the door. I ignored everything around me as I walked home. Although I knew he had been in danger before during cases, this was the first time I could appreciate what the significant others of law enforcement officers go through. It was a testament to their strength of character and enduring love.

The rest of the day was spent cleaning my house. I needed mind numbing activities that wouldn't leave me any time to think. Although I preferred vinyl, my mp3 player could be carried around the house with me as I worked. The volume was past where it should have been but it kept me from dwelling on the events of the day.

Ella Fitzgerald couldn't have said it better when she sang 'Dedicated to You'. I focused on the lyrics and thought of the next day when he would come strolling in the door. He'd toss his tailored jacket over his chair in the den. Pour two fingers of scotch or maybe whiskey. Pour me a glass of merlot before placing a record on. He'd find me in the kitchen finishing supper or if it was a late day, in my studio. I'd greet him with a kiss. It's intensity a reflection of his demeanor. Soft and teasing, quick and harsh or rarely I'd wait for his command. The rest of the night would be spent as if we were a normal couple.

The following day turned out nothing as I imagined. He arrived earlier than I was used to. He was agitated again and paced the floor of the den. This time I stepped into his path. No artificial courage this time. Whatever he needed, he would have to speak without even the smallest aide.

His sigh came as he sat in the leather chair I had chosen with him in mind. He told me of his unit chief's decision. The lives that had been lost. How the higher ups had placed him temporarily in charge of the unit. He felt as if he was betraying his mentor even though he had been first choice to replace him by said mentor. His wife was upset because it meant more responsibly and time away. She didn't want him to accept. Wanted him to transfer to a less active unit.

I hated her so much in that moment, I had to turn my face for fear that his astute observational skills pick up my thoughts. Her selfishness was beyond contemptible and I wished for one moment that I could confront her but that would never happen. It was beyond my capability to betray him.

Once I felt that I could control my emotions sufficiently, I turned back to him.

I should have known better than to try and hide anything from him. He had a soft smile on his face. I sighed and walked over to him. He reached for my hand and giving it a slight tug, brought me to sit in his lap. He held me with a tenderness I doubt he showed anyone at work. I apologized to him. The last thing he needed was to believe that I would start complaining about that part of his life. He touched my lips softly with the tips of his fingers. He quirked a smile as I bit them gently in retaliation.

I reiterated that I believed in him and his abilities. That they obviously recognized in him what I had known for nearly a decade. His brilliance, his empathy, professionalism were without equal. With a smirk, he claimed I was angling for something. I replied I had the only thing I needed.

He accepted his supervisor's offer of promotion. After three months it was made permanent when his mentor declined to return to active field duty. She continued to pressure him about a transfer. When he refused she seemed to accept his decision. Although I never voiced my opinion to him, nor let him see my doubt, I knew that she had not had her final say. And when she did it would devastate him.

The only thing I could do was what I had always done. Anticipate his needs and give him my unconditional love.