_What's she going to think of me? Stone wondered as he knocked gently on the door. She'd buzzed him up from the lobby without a word. More to the point, he thought, what am I going to say if she wants an opinion about whether she should undergo the procedure or not? So far, the only evidence I have that the clinical trials are working is circumstantial, the patients who've been through the sequence and discharged. So how can I, in good faith, advise her one way or the other? But, he then concluded, I'm getting way ahead of myself. She may take one look at me and decide she was right to dump me the first time. Nice building, though. Housing for grown-ups, not like the one-bedroom starter setup I've been reduced to. He knocked--he always hated the idea of ringing a bell on an apartment door--and a second later, it opened. Alexa Hampton and Stone Aimes just stood awkwardly for a moment and stared, taking each other in. Finally... "You look... great." They both said it simultaneously, and that served to make the moment even more awkward. "Well," he said finally, into the silence, "you do." And he meant it. There was, however, a lot of strain on her face, in her eyes. The mark the years had left seemed more psychic than physical. "You don't look so bad yourself." "God, it seems like a lifetime ago when we went to our separate corners," he said after another long, contemplative pause. Then he stepped in and she closed the door. He didn't try to peck her cheek, for which she looked relieved. "Tell me how you're doing, really." "You really want to know? Okay, this afternoon I had a heavy-duty heart checkup. Nobody wants to put odds on this thing, but my condition is getting worse." She led him through to the living room. "Then we should talk," he said looking around. "I love your loft, by the way. You make me envy you. You should see the makeshift quarters I live in. I'm sort of waiting for my ship to come in." "The truth is, Stone, that I no longer know the first thing about you or your life. And I think I'd like to." " 'Had we but world enough, and time.'" He smiled "We'll get around to the catching up, but I don't flatter myself that you asked me down at this hour to reminisce about our respective pasts." "You've already got me figured out." She made a face. "I don't know whether I like that or not. By the way, would you care for something? You used to like scotch, right?" "The operative part of that statement is 'used to.' These days I try to avoid anything harder than beer. I was starting to have an ethanol dependency problem. I think it's a common occupational hazard for a reporter." "I don't keep beer around. It's fattening. How about some diet cranberry juice?" "Maybe I'll have that scotch after all." He laughed. "I have a feeling it might be more suited to the occasion." "Know what, I think I'll join you." She walked into the kitchen and started making the drinks. "On the rocks, right?" "Good memory."