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Amanda fell asleep on the couch waiting for Sonny even though she knew he wasn’t coming. He hardly ever stayed over on Thursdays. He usually put in an extra late night at the office and then headed to his place to pick up a few hours of sleep and some clean clothes. That way, he could get an early start on Friday morning and dash straight to her apartment after work to spend the whole weekend with her and the kids.
Still, long after the girls had fallen asleep, long after the dishes were done, long after her own shower, Amanda dozed off on the couch in her pajamas. Her hair dried in gentle waves around her face and the DVR asked if she was still watching as she drifted deeper and deeper into a dream . . .
She was stunned to find herself perched on a velvet settee, wearing a beaded micro-dress, surrounded by a live studio audience. Hot stage spotlights beat down on her face. The crowd’s applause and the Heart’s Desire theme song reverberated across the stage. Seated across from her, beaming at the cheering crowd, was . . . Anya Avital. Anya? Anya was the host of . . . Heart’s Desire?
“Welcome back! We’re finally sitting down with Ahhh-manda! Amanda, the viewers have been dying to hear from you. You’ve been spending a lot of time with a fan favorite lately—how are things going between you and Sonny?”
“Where . . . how did I . . . wait—fan favorite?”
“Of course! Now, let’s get straight into the game. You know the rules, right?”
“What game? What . . . rules?”
“Oh, Amanda! You’re a riot.” Anya whipped an index card out of her blouse. “Here’s how we play: it’s ‘Would You Rather’ with a Heart’s Desire twist! Let’s get started.”
“Hang on, I've gotta . . . ”
“Amanda, would you rather disclose your romantic relationship with Sonny to all of your colleagues and friends—or—continue to keep it private, an exciting, romantic secret, just between the two of you . . . ”
“You know, for right now, I—”
“Ah—gotta let me finish! No one will know except for one person: his attractive colleague. She’ll keep your secret, but she’ll be present, always watching, every time you and Sonny meet in public.”
“Excuse me, she’s watching?!”
“She’ll see it all. And she’ll probably hear it all, if you two don't get better lowering your voices, y’know what I’m saying?” Anya shot her an audacious wink. Her show hostess smile was blinding. “Tell us, Amanda, what’s it gonna be?” The audience began to count down from ten. Three cameras swarmed in to capture her dumbfounded expression from every angle. A roar echoed all around her. Amanda blinked a few times . . .
. . . and sat up, shaking her head to clear away the images and sounds of her dream. She was grateful to find herself on her own sofa. She was wearing her plain old pajamas. Frannie was snoring raucously at her feet, but the dog was her only company. Otherwise, the apartment was silent.
“Some dream,” Amanda muttered to herself as she stood up, rubbing her eyes. She crept into her bedroom and tucked herself in under the covers. “Some dream.”
All according to plan, Sonny came home to her apartment on Friday evening, his briefcase and an overnight bag in tow.
“Let’s play Hide ‘n’ Seek!” he challenged Jesse and Billie before he was all the way through the front door, daring them to hide before they could tackle him. Without hesitation, the girls scattered, and he dashed into Amanda’s bedroom, counting loudly—and slowly—as he changed into a pair of jeans, hung his suit in her closet, and kicked his duffel bag into a corner.
He skipped twenty-eight and twenty-nine to smooch the corner of her mouth. Then, he was kind enough to cover her ears as he hollered, “thirty! Ready or not, here I come!” Footsteps, giggles, and shrieks echoed through the apartment for the next few minutes as Sonny caught both of her daughters hiding—sort of—under a blanket behind the armchair, scooped them up, and returned them to the kitchen. “Book ‘em,” he told Amanda, as he deposited the girls at her feet.
“How about dinner first?” Sonny consulted his clients, glancing first at Billie and then at Jesse, who nodded.
“That’s fair,” she said.
After they’d finished their lemon chicken pasta and their green beans, played a few rounds of Chutes and Ladders, and brushed their teeth, the foursome settled down in the girls’ bedroom. Amanda rocked Billie as Sonny read aloud, letting Jesse fill in the parts she knew by heart.
“ . . . and that’s all there is. There isn’t anymore,” he read, letting the back cover of the book fall. After three stories, Jesse had grown sleepy and quiet. She grinned up at Sonny, then let him lower her head from his shoulder down to her pillow as her eyes fluttered closed. Amanda turned to lay a sleeping Billie down. She kissed her forehead and whispered “goodnight” as Sonny tucked Jesse’s quilt in under her chin and switched on the unicorn nightlight.
“Sweet dreams,” Amanda murmured as she gave Jesse’s foot one gentle squeeze. She and Sonny both crept backward out of the room.
He pulled the door closed with one hand and held up the other to receive a—silent—high five from Amanda. She linked their fingers and lead him back down the hallway, lowering the lights as they went, pausing only when the cell phone in his pocket buzzed for the third time in the last thirty minutes.
“I’d better look,” he sighed.
“Of course, of course,” she said, untangling their fingers and heading for the bathroom. “I’ll be in the shower.”
Twenty minutes later, Amanda emerged to find him on the couch, hunched forward and scowling at the computer on the coffee table.
“Hey, are you still—”
“Hmm?” Sonny looked up at her even as he flipped his phone over and moved to close his laptop. Whatever email or document he’d been reading, he’d been so engrossed that she’d startled him. The sight of her, tousled hair, pink cheeks, and bare legs, rendered him momentarily speechless. He took a moment to take her all in.
“Somethin’ come up?” She reached out to touch the back of his head as she took a seat beside him. As her palm ran down his neck and across his shoulders, his hand gradually lowered the screen of his computer.
“Yeah . . . I mean, no. I mean . . . yeah, but we probably shouldn’t . . . we really can’t . . . let’s not talk about it.” He pushed his laptop to the other end of the coffee table as he turned toward her, reaching up to comb his fingers through her wet hair. He leaned forward to press his face against the warm skin of her throat and his other hand came around her waist.
“Are you—“ but Sonny smothered her protest with his mouth.
“It can wait until Monday,” he insisted. “I just got distracted.” He drew her up with him as he stood and they moved together toward her bedroom.
Amanda was startled by the buzzer sounding, signaling that her time was up.
“Time’s up!” Anya announced, unnecessarily. “Next question! Are you ready this time, Amanda?”
“I guess that depends . . . ”
“Here we go: would you rather tell your colleagues about your new relationship with Sonny—and file that official paperwork with your superiors—even though it might change things for both of you at work—or—keep your romance quiet, but only ever get to high five each other, even when you’re both off-duty, spending time together in the privacy of your own home?”
“Oh, c'mon—how would you even enforce that?”
Anya laughed loudly for the benefit of the audience, then leaned in, covering her mic, and hissed, “just play the game, Detective!”
“I don’t want to play!” Amanda whispered back. “This isn’t even a real game!”
“The clock is ticking, Amanda,” Anya warned in her melodramatic TV host voice. “What’s it going to be? Will you reveal your secret? Sure, it’s been sweet and kinda sexy to get closer to Sonny without facing any professional scrutiny, but how long can that last? Is it practical? Is it ethical? Is it sustainable?” Amanda crossed her arms and sat back, glowering at Anya through a curtain of false eyelashes. She said nothing. “Would you really want to give up holding his hand, wrapping your arms around him to comfort one another, kissing him goodnight, getting cooozy in the dark?” The crowd roared and whistled at Anya’s suggestive tone.
“I wouldn’t . . . I don’t want to give up . . . those things,” Amanda admitted. She picked at the beaded hem of her skirt, hyperaware of the many eyes watching her every move and the ticking timer sound effects playing in the background. “But it’s . . . it’s complicated.”
“Are you ready?”
“I don’t . . . ” Was she ready? Ready for what?
The set lights blinked frenetically and the game show buzzer blared again.
Amanda started and sat up, once again restored to familiar surroundings—she was in her darkened bedroom, wearing her soft nightshirt, tangled in her bedsheets. As she caught her breath, Anya’s last question echoed in her conscious mind. Behind her, Sonny shifted and rubbed his eyes.
“You all right?” he whispered.
“Yeah, fine. I’m just . . . cold.”
“Ah, c’mere.” Sonny reached for the comforter and flung it around her shoulders, covering them both as he wrapped her up in a hug. The heat of his chest immediately bled across her back, calming her thumping heartbeat as well as her racing thoughts. She folded her legs back against his and brought her hands up to hold his forearm in place across her collarbone. She felt him kiss her hair and settle his nose just behind her ear. “Better?”
“Much,” she whispered.
The bizarre Heart’s Desire dream didn’t disrupt her sleep again that night. What a relief to wake up slowly, roused by cartoons on the TV and Frannie’s tail thumping. She felt Sonny’s hand on her ribs as she stretched and his warm breath against her neck as he groaned and murmured “good morning.” She chuckled with him when he gave her breast an affectionate squeeze before he rolled away and got up to take a shower.
Amanda pulled on a pair of leggings and headed for the coffee pot.
“Morning, ladies. How’d you sleep?” she asked as she poured her first cup.
“Good,” the girls chorused absently, their eyes focused on the TV, their hands busy stroking Frannie’s ears and belly. Amanda interrupted the collective bliss by scooping Billie up and nudging Jesse with her toes. Jesse finally looked up at her mother and gave her a toothy grin. “G’morning, Mama,” she said.
“Good morning! Could you put on some socks and your sneakers, and grab your jacket? It’s time to take Frannie out to pee.”
Jesse pulled on a pair of socks and set about untangling her shoelaces while Amanda changed Billie’s diaper and bundled her up for a quick walk with the dog.
“I had a really weird dream, Mama,” Jesse said as they set off around the block.
“You did?”
Jesse was still describing her elaborate dream when they returned to the apartment ten minutes later.
“ . . . and then Frannie’s puppies came to my ballet class after school and they all wore leotards and slippers just like mine and then we all lined up to do our leaps and Frannie was watching at the window with you and Sonny and you were all clapping for us and shouting ‘brava, brava!’”
“Good morning!” Sonny was standing in the kitchen, a skillet on the stove, four plates on the counter. Both girls wrestled free of their coats and rushed forward to give him a big hug.
“Sonny, guess what happened in my dream last night? It was awesome . . . ” Amanda unclipped Frannie’s harness, then hung up her own quilted jacket and collected the girls’ forgotten coats. Sonny had topped off her coffee mug and he pushed it toward her, tickling Billie on one hip as Jesse rambled on. Once she’d filled Frannie’s bowl with kibble and put down fresh water, Amanda lifted Billie into her booster seat and scattered some Cheerios and blueberries onto the tray. She sipped her coffee and watched as Billie munched on her breakfast and Sonny scrambled eggs. Jesse leapt about, acting out her dream, which was even more outrageous the second time around.
In the corner of her eye, she spotted Sonny’s laptop, there at the edge of the coffee table where he’d left it the night before. She chewed on her lip, remembering her own dream. That was weird, she thought. This was awesome.
Amanda slept soundly all weekend, worn out by a sunny Saturday at the neighborhood farmer’s market, picking out pumpkins and posing for photos on hay bales, and a rainy Sunday at home, sketching jack-o-lantern faces and chopping apples for pie.
Jesse’s apron and oven mitts were far too large for her, comically so, but the little girl had some help from her godfather when she held up her very first pie so her mother could take a picture. Amanda would have taken a dozen more shots, but a notification popped up on the screen—a text from Fin. And then another. A drunk and disorderly had sobered up in the form of a credible witness to an assault case they’d picked up last week.
Cap wants us to interview him before he spooks. Pick you up at 7:30?
She stepped away as she typed out a quick reply. Behind her, Sonny helped Jesse place the pie on the counter, guided her hand as they cut slices and lay them on plates, served scoops of vanilla ice cream, cautioned both girls to let their pie cool before they tasted it.
Copy that. See you in the AM.
Fin answered with a fist bump emoji. Amanda sighed and peered over her shoulder. Jesse was licking sweet, sticky apple goop from her fingers. Sonny was showing Billie how to blow on a bite of warm apple pie before swallowing it whole. He glanced up to meet her gaze and tilted his head in question, but she just shrugged and shook her head. He studied her for a moment, but finally nodded and nudged a plate in her direction. She quickly sent two coffee cup emojis to Fin, then reached for a fork.
“Please put these toys away and pick out your bedtime stories. I’ll be back in five minutes to tuck you in. Help your sister, okay?” Baths were done, teeth were brushed, pajamas were on. Amanda left her daughters in their room so she could talk to Sonny about her plans for the next morning. She found him in her bedroom, digging around in the duffel bag he’d brought over with him on Friday.
“Hey, give me one second,” he said, glancing up at her when she paused in the doorway. “I coulda sworn I’d packed an extra pair of socks.”
“Looking for these?” Amanda reached under the chair to retrieve a balled up pair of dark socks from Frannie’s favorite hiding spot. “At least they’re not soggy . . . ” she teased as she placed them in his hand. He chuckled and made a face, squeezing the ball to make sure. Then he tucked the socks into one of his dress shoes and closed the closet door.
“I just have to find my laptop. Then, it’s storytime.”
“Hang on a sec,” Amanda snagged him by the elbow. “Sienna will be here by 7:30 to watch Billie and I’m gonna ask her to walk Jesse to school, too. I have to go to Central Booking with Fin; he’s picking me up first thing. We’ve got a really promising witness to a case we caught, a student teacher who—”
“Stop.”
“What?”
“Just . . . don’t say anymore. About the girls . . . or about the case.” Sonny turned away, squeezing his eyes shut and pressing the heel of one hand to his temple.
“Ohhh . . . kay . . . ” Amanda pinned her shoulders back and shoved her hands in her pockets. She watched him pace once, twice, three times, pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to gather himself. “What—?”
“Hold on—please.” He leaned his hip against the edge of her dresser and took a deep breath. “First of all, I can walk Jesse to school in the morning.” He gestured to himself as though to emphasize that this was a blatantly obvious solution. “I would like to walk Jesse to school. Can I?”
“Of course. Of course, you can. She’ll love that.” She was baffled.
“Good. Good. Also, I think Sienna knows that I sleep here . . . occasionally. She’s pretty sharp, and those two blabbermouths can’t keep a secret.” Sonny nodded toward the girls’ room and they both smiled, despite the fraught energy humming in the room. “So, do I still have to sneak out and lurk in the hallway before she arrives in the morning, or can we give up that charade?”
“Yes,” she said, nodding. “Absolutely.” Sonny sighed with relief, but then he set his jaw.
“Look, I don’t think you should tell me anything more about this case. I might have to put your promising witness on the stand and I don’t want . . . it’s just . . . we have to at least try to maintain some professional boundaries. Ethically.”
Amanda swallowed and looked down at her sneakers.
“You’re right,” she managed. When she peered up again, Sonny was staring back at her, desperate. His mouth slack, his brow etched with worry, his eyes helpless. She stepped forward and reached for him. “Hey, hey, what’s going on? Tell me.” He sighed and turned away from her, bracing both hands on the dresser and letting his head drop forward as he collected his thoughts.
“It’s just that . . . I’ve been worrying about this. About us. More and more, every day. Y’know? I’ve put everything I’ve got into this job. We both have.” He gestured between them without looking at her. “But at the same time,” he continued, thoughtfully, “there’s something else I’ve wanted. Something I’ve been waiting for . . . just dreaming about . . . for so long. And now . . . ” Slowly, he lifted his face, and their eyes met in the mirror above her dresser. And now.
After a breathless moment, her hand shot out to cover his. This time, he didn’t pull away. She squeezed his fingers, still staring back at his reflection. Finally, he turned to look straight into her eyes.
“I don’t want us to interfere with a case any more than I want a case to interfere with us.”
“Me, neither,” she said. “That’s the last thing I want.”
“And I meant it when I told you that I was taking this seriously. Even if that means that we can’t work toge—”
“Mama, it’s been five minutes!” Amanda and Sonny both flinched when Jesse hollered down the hallway, breaking the spell of the intense moment between them.
“Hop into bed, please! I’ll be right there,” Amanda called back. Sonny ducked his head and laughed, his face creasing with genuine amusement instead of true anguish. He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb as she ran her other hand through her hair, rolling her eyes and groaning quietly. “I’m sorry,” she grumbled.
“Nah, don’t be. Don’t be.” He turned and touched her cheek, then kissed her lips quickly. “Wash your face and meet me in there.” She hadn’t even realized that her eyes had welled up.
“Wait.”
Amanda tugged him close for a more thorough kiss. She fused her lips to his, holding him fast by his neck and shoulders. When they parted, she was pleased to see stars in his eyes. She matched his dreamy grin as she swiped quickly at her lashes. “I’ll tuck them in. You take Frannie out, then get to work. Your laptop is on the coffee table, under all the junk mail. Could you write up a formal statement for me to sign? I need to disclose a serious relationship.” Sonny swallowed. Then he nodded.
“I can do that. Can you do all the voices?”
“I’ve got it covered.”
When Amanda emerged from the girls’ bedroom half an hour later, Sonny was waiting in the hallway with another piece of apple pie.
“That’s a funny-looking disclosure statement,” she said as she pulled the door closed behind her. He shrugged.
“That barely took ten minutes. Mine's finished, too. Names, dates, 'I hereby affirm, etcetera etcetera . . . ’ Just boilerplate stuff. The hard copies are in the printer. Here,” he handed her the plate and a fork.
“Thanks,” she said, slowly. He stroked the back of her neck as they moved down the narrow hallway. Just by the tone of his voice and the angle of his shoulders, she could tell that he’d found his footing again. She’d seen him nervous before. She’d seen him sensitive and moody, too. She’d seen him shellshocked. She’d seen him furious. She’d seen him throw up. She’d rarely seen him quite so . . . untethered . . . as he’d been in her bedroom earlier.
“It’s just the first step. We’ll both still have to have some excruciating conversations about the specifics—hopefully not too specific. I’m sure we’ll need to lay out some guidelines . . . maybe . . . discuss alternative arrangements. I have some ideas.”
“What kind of ideas?” She perched on a stool at the kitchen island and he propped himself up next to her, standing close enough that their elbows bumped together. After a moment, he sighed and reached for the fork to help himself to a bite of pie.
“I could work with a different squad. Or I could prosecute in another borough. Hey, c’mon, hear me out,” he wouldn’t let her interrupt to object. “It’d be a whole lot less complicated, for us and for our colleagues, if we didn’t have to constantly dance around our professional boundaries. To be honest, it’s probably the only way we have a chance at keeping our relationship out of the courtroom, for good.” Sonny handed the fork back to Amanda.
“I guess,” she grumbled. “I feel awful, though, thinking about you giving up the work you’ve wanted to do. The work you care about. And you’re good at.”
“Look at it this way—with a different unit, my hours could be way more predictable. Maybe I could drop the girls off every morning.” She could see in his eyes that his offer was sincere.
“Or I could. I could transfer to another unit,” she reasoned. She looked up at him with huge eyes, her mouth twisted fretfully.
“You could,” he said slowly. “Would you want that?” Amanda chewed on the inside of her cheek for a moment, then sank back in her seat and drew her shoulders in, pouting as she jabbed at the last of the pie with the fork.
“I . . . I don’t know.” She shook her head. “I just don’t know.” Sonny bit his own lip and nodded.
“Well, we don’t have to decide anything tonight,” he sighed, covering her hand with his. “Like I said, this is just the—”
“—first step.”
“Yeah.” He squeezed her hand and moved to rinse their plate and fork in the sink.
“I’m so sorry that you’ve been worrying about this,” she said to the back of his neck. “I have, too. I mean, I’ve been thinking about it, all the time, but I’ve also been doing my best not to think about it at all, to pretend that we can put it off forever. Which was pretty stupid. And selfish. I’m sorry.” Sonny placed the dishes in the drying rack. He turned around and leaned back against the counter, blotting his hands with a dishtowel.
“C’mon, it’s okay. Feels like things with us have happened so quickly, so easily, over the last few months . . . ” he mused. “I wanted to ignore this one big hurdle, too. Y’know, just enjoy every moment.” Still fidgeting with the towel, Sonny smiled, almost to himself. Amanda slid off her stool and moved around the island to stand in front of him. Leaning into his body, framing his shoulders with her hands, she peered up into his face and caught his eye.
“It has seemed easy, hasn’t it, you and me? This whole summer, even once school started, despite all the long hours, all the changes . . . Being with you has been . . . ”
“The best.”
“The best. I’ve never felt so happy,” she confided with a shrug and a tender smile. He finally tossed the dishtowel aside and reached out to run his hands down her sides, lacing his fingers behind her waist. He touched his lips to her forehead. “Sometimes, I forget that this hasn’t actually come about all that quickly,” she went on. “It’s taken us a long time to get here. And it hasn’t always been easy, either,” she pointed out, teasing. Sonny snorted, his breath ruffling her hair.
“Nah, I guess not.”
“Thanks for sticking with me. You’re always listening, always thinking one step ahead of me—sometimes two. You’ve had my back, all along . . . ” Amanda trailed off and pulled back to meet his eyes. “You’re a hell of a partner,” she murmured.
“You, too.”
Their lips met with the same resolve and wonder as they’d felt when they’d kissed for the first time. They melted into one another, more certain than ever in the depth of their partnership.
When she finally broke away, Amanda only leaned in closer, standing on her toes so she could tuck her chin over his shoulder. She hugged him with all her might.
“I love you,” she said softly.
“Oh, Amanda. I love you, too.” He squeezed her back, pressed his lips to her hair, her ear, her cheek, and finally once more to her lips. She hummed against his mouth and they parted, exchanging happy, speechless smiles. Sonny was the first to find his voice.
“You, uh, you want to watch some TV?” Over time, it had become code for their evening ritual: reality shows on the DVR. A mindless distraction from something heavy, or an excuse to keep each other company.
Amanda considered the offer. She considered the documents waiting in the printer. She considered the decisions on the horizon. It wouldn’t all be easy going, yet she found herself at ease. And they didn’t need a lame excuse to spend time together anymore.
“Not really . . . not tonight.” She held on to his hand as she stepped away to double-check the deadbolt and hit the lights. “I just want to be with you—no distractions. Let’s go to bed.”
“Yeah, let’s.” He followed her into the bedroom, where they loved one another until their eyelids grew heavy and their limbs felt boneless. They rose just long enough to prepare for bed, wordlessly, their eyes meeting now and then—when she passed the toothpaste, when his head emerged from the collar of his t-shirt, as they set alarms for the next morning. They exchanged a tender smile each time. Then they collapsed under the covers, sated and sleepy, facing each other. Their knees knocked together; their breath mingled.
“Goodnight,” she said.
“Sweet dreams,” he answered.
She fell asleep with her hand covering his heart.