“Sometimes I think I do.” I was always honest too. But most of the time, I knew just how much I loved Peter.

“I think you're really in love with him, Steph. Maybe you should explain that to him.”

“I'd probably scare him to death,” I said, looking pensive. And what was the point? Our relationship worked perfectly as it was. For him. Why ask for more? Why push it till it broke? I didn't want that.

“As Charlotte says, he's a dork,” Paul editorialized. “Maybe you both are. It could just be you deserve each other. Life is too short to waste what you've got. Or even waste me. It drives me crazy to think I'm going to sit around now, for months, with my head off, while the two of you screw everything up. Just get him to work on his triple flip. But he's a real klutz. He could hurt himself. Be careful.” Paul was trying to cover how emotional he felt about leaving me, and I was especially worried about him when he showed up in black suede leggings with a black sequined jacket and high-heeled black alligator boots. I had never seen him looking so conservative or so somber.

“I don't like leaving you like this, Steph,” he said sadly, “not knowing when I'll see you again, if ever.”

“I suspect you will.” I smiled sheepishly at him. How could you leave a man who had a Klone? Especially one like Paul. “I'm not sure I could ever give either of you up. I think I'm hooked. I may have to go back to Dr. Steinfeld again, to work things out, and that could take forever.”

“Please don't. You don't need him. You know what you want.” He smiled sadly at me, and I could see how much he loved me.

“Take care of yourself,” I said to him as he kissed me for the last time. I was still wearing his ruby ring, and knew I always would. He said he wanted me to keep it.

“Give the kids my love.” They had already left for school. And then, he looked over his shoulder, as the elevator man piled all his luggage into the elevator, and said, “Be happy, Steph, whatever you do.” The door closed behind him before I could answer, and I wondered if I would ever see him again. At that exact moment, I wasn't sure, and I already missed him.

And as I drove to the airport in a rented car, a frosted purple Tornado chosen by Paul, I could still hear the echo of Paul's words. I wondered where he was now, if his head was already off by then, if his wires were being pulled. I knew he had a couple of problems again. He had been smoking all week, from his left ear and right nostril, and I wasn't sure what that meant.

And as I stood at the gate, waiting for Peter, all I could think about was Paul. It was the most confusing relationship I'd ever been in. Roger had at least been boring. He slept a lot, and watched a lot of TV. He even watched Jeopardy! from time to time, and Geraldo, although he never admitted it when I walked into the room, and he clicked the set off. But there was nothing boring about Peter or Paul. Worse yet, they somehow complemented each other. Together, they were a whole man. And what a man!

I was still lost in my own thoughts as Peter walked off the plane, and I didn't even see him until he was standing next to me and pulled me into his arms without a word. He kissed me and then pulled away to look at me more closely.

“Are you okay?” he asked, looking me over carefully, as though he expected me to be different, but I was still the same, and just as in love with him as I had been since the summer. He was wearing a blazer and gray slacks and a gray turtleneck sweater, and a new pair of Gucci shoes he had bought in California. He looked as handsome as ever. He'd had a haircut while he was gone, and he looked sexy and powerful. “I've been worried about you.”

“I've been fine.” I had been, except for my back, of course, after two weeks of the triple flip and the occasional quadruple. Paul had suggested I look into either a trainer, or a brace. “How was California?”

“The same.” He told me about his trip as he went to pick up his luggage, and much to my surprise, he never asked me once about Paul. But as we headed for the garage, he noticed the heart-shaped ruby ring on my finger. “Where did you get that?” he asked, looking worried. But I knew he suspected where it came from. And who was paying for it.

“From you,” I said quietly and he was polite enough not to comment. But he frowned and then groaned when he saw the purple Tornado.

“Did you have to rent a car that color?”

“It was all they had left,” I explained politely.

“How long will the Jaguar be in the shop?”

“Three months.”

“He's not having it repainted, is he?”

I hesitated for a fraction of a second and then nodded. ‘It's a lovely shade of periwinkle blue. Paul thought you'd love it.”

“Why not orange or lime green?” he said irritably, tossing his bags in the trunk and glaring at me.

“He thought you'd prefer the blue.”

“I'd prefer it if he didn't drive it when he visits. In fact,” he looked at me unhappily as he slipped behind the wheel, “I think I'd prefer it if he didn't visit you. He just causes a hell of a lot of trouble, and he's a bad influence on the kids.”

“That's up to you,” I said meekly. I had never seen Peter in such a bad mood. It must have been a rough trip, or maybe he was just upset about the Jaguar.

“Yes, it is up to me,” he said sternly.

He didn't relax until we got home and I offered to massage him. He said his neck had been bothering him all week. It was obviously tension. But I'd had my fair share of that too. Bouncing back and forth between the two of them like a Ping-Pong ball wasn't exactly easy for me. And by that night, I was utterly confused again. I was beginning to feel as though I needed an exorcist more than a boyfriend. It was as though Peter had never left at all and Paul had never existed. It was eerie. I was in love with whichever one I was with and always slightly less enamored with the other. At that moment, I was once again profoundly entranced by Peter. He made omelettes for me and the children, and acted as though he'd never left us. The children no longer even looked surprised to see him in gray flannel instead of chartreuse. They had seen him make that switch before, and still blamed it on stress and mood swings, or trouble at the office.

And after they went to bed, we wound up in my bedroom, predictably, and he looked at me with longing. I knew what he had in mind, and I had the same intentions, but I warned him that I wasn't up to the double flip. He looked upset when I said it, and walked into the bathroom without saying a word. It was as though he didn't like hearing about Paul anymore, although it was Peter who had sent him.

I heard Peter take a shower, and he came out in his navy pajamas, which I had washed that morning, and the cleaning lady had pressed with infinite precision.

I had locked the door, and we were very quiet, so the children wouldn't hear, and it was only after we had made love, that he started to unwind. He put an arm around me, sighed deeply, and told me how much he had missed me. And just as it had been before, I knew with utter certainty that my heart was his and not Paul's. It was always so much fun being with Paul, but my relationship with Peter was more powerful and had deeper meaning.

But the transition still wasn't easy for me, and when he left at three o'clock that morning, all I could think of was Peter and not Paul. Being with Peter just seemed so much more real to me. But the odd thing was I was afraid that it was Paul who really loved me, and not Peter.

“I'll call you in the morning,” Peter whispered before he left, and I was sound asleep before he closed the door, dreaming of both of them, as they each held a hand out to me, and I wasn't sure which one to reach for.

And when I awoke the next morning, the sun was streaming into the room, but I felt a certain sadness. It was odd not waking up and seeing Paul. And I didn't know why, but I felt as though sometime during the night, I had lost him.

Peter said that I seemed quiet when he came by at lunchtime, but I told him I was fine. I had just been thinking of some of the things that Paul had said. But more than ever, I was aware of how difficult it all was, changing back and forth from one to the other. Being so comfortable with Peter, and then having to adjust to Paul. Getting used to all his tricks and pranks, and wardrobe, spending my nights doing triple flips, and then letting him go. Back to Peter again. From love to lust and back again to the point of madness. As much as I loved this man, it was asking a lot to expect me to love both man and Klone. And I didn't want to say anything to Peter about how difficult it was. But I suspect he knew it. I didn't want to hurt his feelings, and it all sounded so absurd. I didn't know anymore how long I could continue. The only thing I did know was how much Peter meant to me, what a rare gift he was in my life. I knew that was a turning point for me, but I didn't think he was ready to hear it.

“You miss him, don't you?” Peter asked when we went for a walk in Central Park that afternoon. It was snowing, and very cold. And I looked at him and nodded. I did. But he was, after all, only a Klone. I knew that now, a conglomeration of computer chips and wires enclosed in fuchsia satin. Peter had a mind, a heart, a soul, and much quieter taste in clothes. But in spite of that, I really loved him. “I thought about it on the way home,” Peter said quietly. “I haven't been very fair to you, have I?” He hadn't. But then again, what man was? Roger hadn't been fair either. And Peter seemed fairer than most. He was more of everything than any man I'd ever known. And he had a Klone, which made him doubly entertaining.

“I'm not complaining.” But I had to Paul. I had complained a lot about Peter's insensitivity to the situation, and my feelings.