Why is it that all the good men are either married, gay or fictional?

Take Irving Hackenbush, for example.

No, Irving is not married.  Despite Josh's frequently expressed opinion that Irving behaves exactly the way Josh himself would if he were a married man pretending to be single.

This, of course, makes me very suspicious of Josh, not of Irving.

Nor is Irving gay.  Again, I beg you not to listen to Josh.  I have heard Josh's remarks about what he coyly refers to as Irving's "affectations."  They're not affectations, and they do not imply what Josh wants you to think they do.  I maintain that I know Irving more intimately than Josh does; I would have noticed if something was, well, off.  Josh is just jealous.

However, I cannot deny this fact: Irving Hackenbush is very much a fictional character.

And since he helped me create Irving in the first place, I have no idea why Josh is jealous of him.

***

I've been walking on eggshells with Donna for the past month, since my return from Nantucket.  Stanley suggests every week that I may be going too far with this, but I'm determined not to do anything to bother or inconvenience her.  I haven't asked her to stay late.  I haven't piled on the work.  I haven't even really talked to her recently.

I mean, we talk.  We talk every day.  But always about work stuff.  And Donna has ceased with her outpourings of arcane knowledge, which I really do miss.

Stanley says I should tell her that.  I disagree, because on the plus side, I haven't done anything to hurt her.  That's the way it needs to stay.  And so I continue with this farce, this pseudo-professional decorum, and every day it feels like Donnatella Moss is slipping away from me.

I want nothing more than to grab her and beg her not to give up on me, but I promised myself I wouldn't hurt her again.  I promised her I wouldn't hurt her again.  So I just, you know, suffer in silence.

I'm really not great at the suffering in silence thing, but I do my best.

So who would have thought that Donna getting herself a boyfriend would make me feel better?  I mean, really, it's an absurd idea.

When I first learned of Irving Hackenbush's existence, I felt awful, like my worst fears were being realized.  And then I felt... better.

Amazingly, astoundingly better.

***

It's been a month since Josh returned from his self-imposed exile in Nantucket, and we're no closer to resolving matters than we were the day he got back.  In some respects, we're actually farther apart than we were that day.

There has been no more physical contact.  No kissing, no touching me when we walk down the halls of the West Wing together, and certainly nothing more intimate.  I am reaching levels of sexual frustration previously unexperienced by womankind here.

Even more disturbing, Josh is being polite to me.  Also distant.  No barking "Donnatella Moss!" at all hours of the day.  (I have ceased being "Donnatella" altogether; it's just plain "Donna" these days.  Give us another month, and I may be demoted to "Ms. Moss."  No hyphen.)  No talking me into working ungodly hours with him.  No bantering.  We are all business.  We are practically strangers.

I am beginning to feel divorced.

In an effort to remind myself that a non-divorce divorce is not the real thing, I am in the ladies room, looking at my wedding ring.  Yes, I'm still wearing it on a chain around my neck.  I find the sight of that ring oddly comforting.  Not to sound maudlin, but it reminds me of how happy Josh and I once were and how, with any luck, we could be happy again.  Eventually.  If Josh would just get off his ass.

Proving, once again, that Josh and I have the worst timing of any two people in Washington, I hear the door open.  And before I can hide the ring again, CJ enters the room.

Her eyes, of course, go straight to my ring.  Her eyebrows disappear into her hairline, and her face takes on an expression that can only be translated as "please tell me that's not from Josh."

"Morning, CJ," I say, cleverly ignoring the topic completely.

CJ, however, comes straight to the point.  "That's a beautiful ring, Donna.  Where did you get it?"

You know, for about half a second I consider telling her the truth.  Just to see her reaction.  However, Josh would never forgive me for depriving him of the chance to see the look on her face.

I stick as close to the truth as possible.  "It's a family heirloom," I tell her.  Notice that I fail to mention whose family.

If CJ has her doubts about this story, she doesn't say so.  Instead, she goes all concerned on me.  "You know, Donna, now that Josh is back, you ought to think about taking some time off yourself.  You've been working much too hard for the last few months."

At which point, I make a tactical error.  A huge tactical error.  "I couldn't do that, CJ.  Josh really needs me right now."

You know the irony here?  I honestly meant professionally.  I wasn't talking about the other at all.

"Well, maybe Josh should stop relying on you so much," CJ says.  "Maybe it would do him some good to have to function on his own for a week or so."

"CJ," I start, but she interrupts me.

"I don't mean that, Donna," she says.  She gestures as if to dismiss the whole issue of the personal relationship we're all supposed to pretend I don't have with Josh.  "I just meant that you need a rest and that Josh needs some appreciation for what you do."

"Josh appreciates me," I say.  (Another tactical error, I'll admit.)

CJ gives me a look which, loosely translated, says, "Donna Moss, you poor, deluded girl."

"Donna," she says, "you can't let your life revolve around Josh and his problems.  I know you're concerned about him; we all are.  But we're concerned about you too.  No one wants to see you get hurt, and clearly everything you've been through with Josh has taken its toll on you."

CJ, you don't know the half of it, I think.  "Really, there's nothing to be concerned about," I say.

"When was the last time you did anything just for yourself?  I'm betting you haven't taken any time to just have dinner with friends or go on a date since -- since May."

Then CJ gets this gleam in her eyes, and I know what she's going to say.  I've seen that look on too many faces over the years not to know what's coming.

"You know, Donna, I have this friend who--"

My mouth is hanging open. I am, for a moment, stunned.  Claudia Jean Cregg, White House press secretary, is trying to set me up on a blind date.

"Actually, CJ," I say, "I'm seeing someone."

This is not a lie.  I see Josh every day.  I just pray that CJ doesn't pursue the matter.

My prayers are not answered.

"You are?" CJ asks. "Why hasn't anyone heard about this?  Who is he?"

"His name is Irving," I say.

Let me explain about Irving.  I haven't had to use him in years.  During my brief yet distinguished college career, Irving was a useful tool.  I lived on the third floor of a dorm where everyone dated Irving at some point.  If there was some guy you met in chem class who kept asking you out and you'd run out of ways to say no, enter your fictional boyfriend Irving.  If some guy you didn't want to talk to called, you told your roommate to relay the message that you were on a date with Irving.  We all loved Irving in college.  He was the one man we knew would never disappoint us.

"Irving?" CJ repeats.  "There are still people in the world named Irving?"

I nod.  "He's a nice guy.  We've only gone out a few times, but I think there's potential."

"Does Irving have a last name?"

"Hackenbush."

"You're dating a man named Irving Hackenbush?" CJ asks.  She sounds skeptical, and who can blame her?  In college, we loved the name Irving Hackenbush precisely because it was so silly.  If I'd had more time, I would have thought of something more plausible for CJ's benefit.  But I'm on the spot here, and I called him Irving Hackenbush before I had a chance to think about it.  Now I have to sell CJ on Irving's existence.  He has to sound real; he has to sound plausible; he has to sound not like Josh.

I nod.  "Of course, when your mother sticks you with a name like Donnatella Viridis Moss, you learn not to judge."

"And what does Irving Hackenbush do?"  CJ is standing there with her arms crossed, like she's daring me to prove that Irving exists.

It can't be anything political.  That's too easy to check up on.

"He's a doctor," I answer.  There are tons of doctors in the greater DC area.  It could take CJ weeks to check up on that.  "A psychologist actually."  I can hide him in some obscure academic department if I have to.  I won't say whether he's in private practice or not.

"How did you meet him?"

"He's a friend of my neighbor Andy," I explain.  "Irving and Andy were going out one afternoon as I was coming in.  We just got to talking, you know how it is, and he asked me out.  The thing is--"  I have to sell this; I have to make it completely believable.  "I didn't really want to go out with him because -- well, you know why."  I give her my really pathetic face -- the face that says I have an unrequited crush on my boss.  Sadly, this is not that far from the truth.

CJ relaxes a bit, like she's beginning to believe me.  "But you went out with Irving anyway?"

"Yeah. I figured -- you know, I guess I was a little bit angry at--"  I shrug, not saying who I was supposedly angry at for not requiting the aforementioned crush.  "And as it turns out, Irving's a lot of fun.  And, you know, he listens.  Plus he's not the least bit interested in politics, which is kind of refreshing."

CJ sighs.  "That would be nice, yes."

"I've only gone out with him three times, and he seems to understand that I don't want to rush into anything.  But I think there's a chance this could develop into something.  You know, eventually."

I'm not sure that CJ completely believes me, but she seems to take everything seriously.

"Well, that's good," she says.  She seems to buy it.  Or at least if she doesn't buy it, she doesn't come right out and tell me I'm lying.  So I figure that Irving has, at least temporarily, gotten me out of a jam.

It's nice to know I can still rely on Irving Hackenbush after all these years.

***

"Josh?"  CJ is standing in our common doorway, looking uncertain.

"Yeah."  I wave her in.  She enters and pulls the door shut behind her.

To my alarm, she also closes my main door.  Softly.

That can't be good.

"CJ?" I ask.  "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she lies as she slips into the visitor's chair.  "I just want to ask you about something."

"Ask me about what?"

I've got a bad feeling I know where this is going.  CJ always was too damn perceptive.

"Irving," CJ says with an apprehensive look.

Or I could be totally off-base.

"Irving?" I repeat.  "The city outside of Dallas where the Cowboys play?"

"Josh."  She does not look amused.

I shrug.  "You're going to have to be more specific."

"Donna's boyfriend."

What?

"What?"

I must have misheard her, because I swear she just said--

"Donna's boyfriend," she repeats.  "Irving."

Donna's boyfriend?

"Come again?"

"Josh--"

"CJ, what the hell are you talking about?"

"Josh--"

"Donna doesn't have a boyfriend, CJ.  That's impossible."

It's also adultery, but I'm guessing I shouldn't mention that.

"Why is it impossible, Josh?   She's a very attractive woman."

"I know that, CJ, but she's also--"  I stop myself before I can complete that sentence: married to me.

"She's also...?" CJ prompts.

"A horrible liar," I answer lamely.

Donna is actually an excellent liar.  Not the most comforting thought right about now.

CJ looks confused.

I can relate.

"Why would Donna lie to you about her boyfriend?"

Because she knows I'm still in love with her.

"So I don't tease her mercilessly."

"Josh, are you okay?"

"Yeah."

Why wouldn't I be okay?  I just found out my wife is dating.

"Josh," CJ sounds determined.  "I know you're attracted to Donna--"

Understatement.

"I am not."

Lie.

"I didn't want this to, you know," she shrugs, "take you by surprise."

I believe "blindsided" would be a more accurate term.

"I'm not surprised."

Not technically a lie, since the meaning of "surprise" is far too mild for what I'm experiencing.

"Okay," she rises and moves toward the door to her office.

I am itching to go grab Donna to review the terms of our non-divorce.

CJ stops with her hand on the door, and I barely curb the urge to shout  "Get out!"

"The thing is," she says, "maybe it's a good thing."

A good thing?  The woman I love is having dinner and holding hands and kissing someone else; that is a bad thing.  A Very Bad Thing.

I must look strange, because CJ stumbles over her words trying to explain.

"It's just that she -- Last Christmas, and then after the shooting..." CJ pauses.  "She's had a bad year, too, Josh.  Maybe she deserves something good in her life."

I can't breathe suddenly.

CJ is awaiting some sort of response.

"You're right," I say.

She is right.  Donna does deserve happiness, and I've certainly proven myself incapable of providing her with that.

I give CJ what must be a sickly smile.

"You okay?" she asks.

Not even close.

"Yeah."  I nod.

She watches me carefully for a moment.  "Okay."

The door clicks shut behind her and I'm alone.  I stare at the closed door, behind which sits Donna.

My wife.  Who, apparently, has a boyfriend.

This does not make me happy.

Maybe CJ's right, though.  Maybe this guy will make her happy.

Maybe it's time for me to let her go.

I can do this.  Really.  I'll just tell her that it's time we made our agreement formal.  I'll tell her that it's not going to work.

I'll just ask her for a divorce.

Oh, God, I can't divorce Donnatella.  I just can't do it.

Maybe that makes me a weak, weak man, but I can't imagine spending the rest of my life calling her my ex-wife.

There's a quick knock on my door and then Sam slides in, pulling the door shut behind him.

"Yeah?" I say.  I don't have the energy for Sam right now.

"Hey," Sam says.  "How are you doing?"

I narrow my eyes at him.  "I'm fine.  What do you want?"

"I just wanted to check in, you know, see how--"

"What the hell are you talking about, Sam?"

"Nothing."

"Sam."

"I wanted to make sure you weren't freaking out over Irving."

"You know about Irving?" I sputter.

"Yeah," Sam shrugs.

"Who told you?"

"Toby."

"Toby?" I repeat.  "Toby knows about Irving?"

"So I'm guessing you freaking out wasn't such an unlikely possibility."

"Get out."

"Josh--"

"Sam, not now."

"But Josh-"

"Don't make me get out of this chair and throw you out."

"Bye," Sam says and slips back out of my office.

I have to talk to Donnatella.

***

"Donnatella Moss!"

Now there's a sound I haven't heard in more than a month -- Josh bellowing my name from the depths of his office.  Lately when he's not ignoring me, he's being so polite that we might as well be strangers.  Can it be that we're getting back to normal?

Please?

"Minute, Josh," I shout back.  Oh, this is just like the good old days!  "I'm busy."

"Now, Donnatella!"

Two "Donnatellas" in one minute.  What's going on?

I walk -- at a leisurely pace -- to Josh's office.  Yes, it's all of three feet, but I'm making a statement here, you know?

"Who the hell is Irving?" Josh asks the second he sees me.

You know, I suspected something work-related.  I hoped for something along the lines of an apology for his behavior since he returned from Nantucket.  (Yes, I know that was unrealistic.  But notice I said "hoped," not "expected.")  I did not anticipate a question about the boyfriend I made up to confuse CJ.

"How did you hear about Irving?"  I close the office door very quickly.  This conversation could go places we'd regret other people hearing.

"CJ told me.  So did Sam."

"Sam knows about Irving?"

"Apparently," Josh says, "everyone in the damn building knows about Irving."

I can't help it.  I start giggling.  "Well, they do say the husband is always the last to know."

"When were you going to tell me?"

He's upset?  He's really upset about Irving?

"Josh, Irving isn't--"

"Did you think I don't care?  Did you honestly think it wouldn't matter to me that my -- my--"

"Assistant?"

"My wife is dating?"

"We have that non-divorce agreement, remember?"

"There was no dating provision.  We have not negotiated dating."

"Oh, for the love of God, Josh, Irving isn't--"

"Because if we're going to date other people, we have to negotiate the terms."

"We don't need terms.  There is no--"

"First term:  You have to tell me you're dating instead of letting me hear it from CJ."  He pauses.  "And vice versa."

"You're thinking of dating?"  There is a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.  Joey Lucas isn't coming back to town, is she?

"Not at the present time.  But if I were."

"Okay, but to get back to Irving--"

"Second term:  I have to meet him."

"Why?"

"I can't let my wife date just anybody."

"I'd be happy to introduce you to Irving, Josh."  Really, this is turning into the most bizarre conversation Josh and I have ever had.  And that's saying something.  "But that could prove to be a little complicated."

"Why?"  He says that as though he thinks poor Irving has some deep dark secret.

"Because there is no Irving.  Irving does not exist."

"What?"

"I made him up.  CJ was asking questions.  I swear, she was this close from trying to fix me up."

"CJ wants to fix you up?  You mean, like on a blind date?"

"Yes.  And I think that's a bad idea, don't you?"

"It's a very bad idea.  It's a terrible idea.  Where would CJ get an idea like that?"

"I imagine she's feeling sorry for me."  I sit down in the visitor's chair.  "This is what has happened to me.  I have become an object of pity: poor Donna and her hopeless passion for Josh."

Josh sits down too, but he's grinning.  Damn him.  "Hopeless passion?"

"Oh, stop being so smug."

"I'm not smug."

"You are too.  You're sitting there and you're thinking, 'Donnatella still loves me,' and you're smug."

He grins some more -- he is the very model of smugness -- and says, "This still doesn't explain Irving."

"It should be simple enough even for you to understand.  I was on the spot.  It was either say I was dating someone or explain that I couldn't start dating again because my husband wouldn't like it."

"But, I mean, Irving?"

"I know.  I can't believe you all fell for it either."

"In my own defense, I got the news from the White House press secretary and the deputy chief of communications.  Two usually reliable sources."

"Yeah.  Makes you wonder, doesn't it?"

"How did you convince CJ that Irving was real?"

"I have no idea.  I mean, Irving was the first name that popped into my head.  I couldn't believe she fell for a name like Irving Hackenbush."

"Hackenbush?  I'm losing my wife to a man named Irving Hackenbush?"

"Stop laughing."  Actually, I'm hoping he won't stop.  It's been much too long since I've heard Josh laugh.

"What else did you tell her about -- about--"  He starts laughing again.  There are actual tears in his eyes.  Irving Hackenbush, I love the effect you're having on my husband.

"Well, she asked for details.  I had to provide a few."

"Such as?"

"He's very good looking."

"Donna, no one named Irving Seymour Hackenbush can be good looking."

"Seymour?  I never said Seymour."

"I know.  I can provide details too."

"Seymour then.  And he is good looking.  His eyes are Paul Newman blue."

"They're also crosseyed."

"Josh!"

"They looked crosseyed to me."

"You've never met him."

"You're introducing us tonight."

"Am I?"

"Yeah.  I'm coming over to your place because you promised to help me with that report Leo wants tomorrow--"

"When did I do that?"

"You're doing it now.  And you forgot you had a dinner date with Irving, and that's how I meet him.  And he's crosseyed."

"No, he's not.  And anyway, he's also a very important man."

"I'm the deputy chief of staff.  Unless he's Leo or the president in disguise, you're coming down in the world."

"You are trying to compete with a man you know doesn't exist.  Have you considered professional help?  Because Irving's a psychologist.  And don't say what you're thinking.  Just because I had one bad experience with a doctor--"

"My wife, the queen of understatement."

We sit there just smiling at each other.  It is the happiest I have been in months because Josh seems to be enjoying himself again.

"So," Josh says finally, "I guess I'll see you tonight."

"Tonight?"

"When I come over.  To work on the thing."

Really?

"What time?"

"Seven."

"Irving will be there at six."

"6:30 then."

Irving Seymour Hackenbush, I love you!

***

I'm not sure exactly what I was thinking when I invited myself over to Donna's earlier.

Actually, that's a lie.  I was thinking that I hadn't laughed like that in months and that I wanted that moment of... of forgiveness and joy between Donna and me to last.  I felt up to the task of winning back Donna's trust.

But now, standing in front of her door with an Iced Espresso Latté from Starbucks as a peace offering, I feel woefully inadequate.

In fact, I nearly turn to leave.  The only thing that stops me is the recollection of the words I hurled at Donna just after Carl Leroy's trial.  If I never disappoint her again, it won't be enough to make up for that.

And so I knock on her door and try to think of something witty to say.  Suddenly, I realize the part of me that usually keeps up a running commentary of sarcastic remarks seems to have jumped ship.

Donna opens the door.  She is beautiful, as always.

And I find myself unable to verbalize anything other than "Hi."

"Come on in," she gestures to the living room.  I think she's as nervous as I am.

I stop, suddenly, and turn to her, Espresso Latté outstretched.  "I got you this."

She is very close to me.  I can smell the lotion she uses.  I ache remembering the times I watched her apply it as she stepped out of the shower.

Donna smiles and accepts the proffered cup.  "Thanks."

What is wrong with us?  Why can't we converse like we normally do?

She is still standing close enough to get my heart rate up.

"So," I begin, inanely.  "No more cats."

"Nope," she says, her gaze locked with mine.  "Candi took them.  I'm thinking of getting a pet, though."

"No more cats," I warn.

"Maybe a dog," she says.

"What kind?"  What the hell am I talking about?

"I don't know, a Golden Retriever."  She is staring at me.  I recognize this look.  She has her ravenous face on.  I love that face.

"You know," I take a step toward her.  We are nearly touching.  "You could always get an unusual animal."

"Like what?"  Donna holds her ground, and I note that she is breathing hard.

"I don't know," I shrug.  I am staring at her mouth.  "Maybe a ten-inch horse."

"What?"  She is laughing.  She is incredible.

I really want to kiss her.  I have to press my hands against my thighs to keep them under control.

"A ten-inch horse," I repeat.  I can't stop smiling.  "You could get it a little saddle and everything."

"A saddle?" she grins.  "Wouldn't it need a bridle, too?"

"Yeah," I say.  I am leaning toward her.  If either one of us moves, we'll be kissing.  "It could run around the house and annoy your neighbors.  You know, with all the noise."

Donna arches one eyebrow at me.  "I haven't annoyed my neighbors in months."

"Really?"  I am grinning like a complete idiot.  I am mad for this woman.  "That's far too long."

"Yes," she breathes, her arm snaking past me to set her drink on the end table.  "Far too long."

And we are kissing.

I am kissing Donnatella Moss-Lyman again.  I swear there are angels singing hallelujah somewhere.

If not, there should be.

This is momentous.  This is incredible.

"Josh."  Donna pulls away.  "We shouldn't do this."

This is catastrophic.

"Why not?" I ask.  I think I am actually cringing.

She is going to say she doesn't love me.  She is going to say she can't ever forgive me for what I said to her months ago.

And then I might actually die.

Donna smirks up at me.  "I can't possibly do this to Irving."

I adore this woman.

***

Why do things with Josh always have to be so complicated?

A minute ago, we were being light and teasing and playful.  Now suddenly we're serious.  Intense.  Also very erotic.

I honestly don't know how these things happen.

He loves me.  Not that there was ever any doubt, but that's the message I'm getting from this kiss.  It is very slow and deep and tender and believe me when I tell you that it's more than making up for the last month.  He has one hand on my back and the other is caressing my cheek, and he's starting to move down toward my neck, which means it's only a matter of seconds until--

Until he stops.  Damn.

I open my eyes and look at him.  He has the strangest statement on his face.

"What?" I ask.

It's then I notice that he's touching the gold chain around my neck.

"Your ring," he says.  His voice sounds kind of strange.  "I didn't know you were still wearing your wedding ring."

"Oh, right, you know, we never discussed that.  Because, I mean, I totally understand if you want it back."

"I don't want it back."

"Because I know what it means to you."

He grins.  I have so missed that grin.  "I don't think you do," he says.  "Not really."

"It belonged to your grandmother.  I completely understand, Josh.  It's not a big deal."

"I don't want it back."

"You should take it back.  It's a family heirloom."

"You are my family, Donnatella."

Stupid man.  He is just determined to drive me to tears, isn't he?

"There is one thing though," he says.

"What?"

"You promised -- when we were alone, you'd--"

"Oh, right."  I reach up and undo the chain and start to put the ring on my finger.

Josh takes my hand.  "Let me do that," he says.

I watch his hand cover mine as he slips the ring onto my finger the way he did at our wedding.

When he starts kissing me again, it's just as intense, just as passionate as it was before, but with one difference.  Suddenly, I feel married again.

***

I am experiencing bliss.

I remember this feeling.

For too long, I have been numb.  Or in pain.  To be quite honest, if given the choice, I prefer numb.  I had forgotten it was possible to feel this good.

I am lying in Donna's arms, in Donna's bed, and I think I may be allowed back into Donna's life.  I hope.  I'm taking the ring as a good sign.

She is talking.  I have no idea what she's talking about, but she's talking.  I have missed the sound of her voice.

Apparently, I look as if I have no idea what she's talking about, because she stops suddenly and frowns at me.

"Oh, sorry," she says.

I am confused.  (This is not that uncommon.)  "What?"

"You know," she shrugs.  "For talking. I know how you hate that."

Oh.  That.

"I don't, Donna," I say, pulling myself up onto one elbow.  I run my hand across her abdomen and she shivers.  I don't allow myself to be distracted.  "I really don't hate it.  I kind of like it."

She gives me her skeptical face.  "Since when?"

"Since forever."

"You said--"

"Donna, I was an asshole."

Her hand laces with mine.  "Yes," she nods.  "You were."

"I'm sorry."

She watches me for a moment, then gives me a smile.  "It's okay."

It is?

"It is?"

"Yes," she says.  "It's okay."  She leans up and gives me a kiss.  "Well, it will be once you buy me a CD changer for my car."

"Donna!"  I am grinning at her.  Bliss, I tell you.

"Seriously, Josh, I have a long commute."

"You live twenty minutes from the White House!"

"Twenty minutes at 10 p.m., maybe, but for those of use who actually attempt to stick to decent hours, it's more like forty."

"Forty minutes?"

"Yes."

"It takes you forty minutes to get to work?"

"Most days, yes," she says.  "And do you know how long the average CD is?"

"Donna..."

"That's right, Joshua.  The average CD is about forty-five minutes long.  How serendipitous."

"Indeed."

***

I am exhausted.

But in a good way.  A very good way.

At present, Josh's arms are wrapped rather firmly around me, and my head is resting against his chest.  I am being lulled to sleep by the wonderfully steady beat of his heart.  Another five minutes, and I'll be quite unconscious.

"Donna, are you asleep?"

Or not.

I try to restrain the urge to giggle.  I fail miserably.

"What?" Josh asks.

"It's just such a silly question," I answer.  "If I were asleep, there'd be no point in even asking."

"So I take it the answer's no?"

I truly am exhausted.  But maybe not that exhausted.

"That would depend on why you're asking."

"Because," Josh says, "I really should be leaving."

Damn. I hate this part.  This part always makes me want to cry.

I don't want to feel this way.  Not tonight.  Not when I just got him back.

"Not yet, Josh."  Do I sound like I'm begging?  I don't want to sound like I'm begging.  Because, the thing is, I know he's right.

"It's getting pretty late, Donnatella."  He sounds so sad, and I know I'm being completely irrational.  I mean, it's not like I won't see him again as soon as I get to work.

"I know," I answer.  "It's just -- I'm liking this."

"Yes," he says.  "It has been a pleasant evening."

"Stop smirking," I mutter against his chest.

"You don't know whether I'm smirking.  You're not even looking at my face."

"After three years, I can tell when you're smirking."

"I really should leave."

"I know."

"I don't want to."

"I know that too."

He doesn't leave.  He kisses the top of my head instead.

"Josh," I ask, "are you open to compromise on this issue?"

"What are you offering?"

"Stay till I fall asleep."

"Fine."

"Shouldn't take more than five minutes."

"No problem."

"And Josh?"

"What?"

"You're much better in bed than Irving."

I fall asleep to the sound of Josh laughing, and I sleep better than I have in months.

***

I am whistling.  I am actually whistling!  Could I be any lamer?

This is ridiculous.  I believe I have what Sam would call a spring in my step as I enter the West Wing.

I have got to stop this.  I'm supposed to be jealous of Donna's boyfriend (for CJ and Sam), or at least indifferent (for Leo).  In any case, I shouldn't be grinning like the blithering, blissful idiot I am.

"What are you so happy about?"

Shit.

Sam.

"Morning," I say, trying for a normal tone.

"Seriously," Sam falls into step with me.  "You're positively chipper this morning."

"I am not," I lie.  I so am.

"Did you stomp on a Republican on your way in?"

"No," I say, laughing.  "But it's not a bad idea."

"Did you meet someone?"

"No," I scoff.  "Not unless you count Donna's loser boyfriend."

"Irving?"

"Yeah," I nod.  I am trying not to smirk.  "What kind of name is that anyway?"

Sam shrugs.  "You do understand that he's Donna's boyfriend, right?"

"Yes."

"And this doesn't bother you?"

"Sam," I say.  "Why would it bother me?"

"You're not having some sort of hallucinatory I-Am-Irving thing, are you?"

"Please," I say.  "I am not some overeducated imbecile with a lisp."

"Donna's dating a guy with a lisp?"

I give a careless shrug.  "There's no accounting for taste."

We reach my office.  Donna's not here yet; she must have overslept.  I am the man!

"Josh," Sam stops in the doorway.  "This doesn't bother you?"

"What?"

"Irving."

"Why would an idiotic gimp bother me?"

"Gimp?"

I shrug.  "There's something wrong with his leg."

"He has a lisp and a limp?"

"So you can see why I'm not at all bothered."

Sam crosses his arms and gives me an appraising look.  "What you're telling me is that despite the fact that you kissed Donna numerous times, she chose a lisping, limping man over you?"

Uh...

"Well, when you put it that way--"

"Hey, it's fine, Josh," Sam grins, backing out of my office.  "I'm impressed you're choosing the high road.  Of course, Donna's strolling the low road with Gimpy--"

"Sam."

"I'm just saying."  He disappears around the corner.

I practically run to the door and lean out into the hallway to shout after him.  "I am not jealous."

Then I see Donna standing beside her desk.  Snickering.

***

It's a beautiful morning.  Honestly.  The sun is shining, it's unseasonably warm -- heck, even the traffic isn't too bad.  It's just one of those I'm-happy-to-be-alive kind of days.

And, okay, the fabulous sex last night may be affecting my attitude.

When I get to the bullpen, I notice Carol and CJ talking.  "Morning, Carol.  Morning, CJ," I say.  Hell, I practically sing.  It's that kind of morning.

CJ and Carol exchange glances.  "Donna," CJ says, "you're looking very happy today."

"She's positively glowing," Carol points out.

"Blissful," CJ adds.

"She hasn't looked like that since--"

"Last summer," CJ concludes.

Oh hell.  Why couldn't I have run into Sam or Toby?  Men never understand these sorts of things.  CJ, on the other hand, is so good at reading people that she's downright scary.

I have to provide an explanation that CJ will buy, and I have to do it quickly.

"I had a date last night," I say.  "With the guy I told you about yesterday, CJ."

"Irving?" CJ asks.

"Yeah.  Him."

"Irving?" Carol echoes, as though she find that name hard to believe.  And who can blame her?

"Irving," I repeat.  "He's a great guy.  Very sexy.  And talented.  He made dinner for me.  Turns out he's a gourmet cook."

"Really?" Carol asks.

"Yes," I answer.  "It was one of the best nights of my life."

Well, that part's true.

"Really?" CJ asks.  "So what you're saying is that you and Irving--"

I'm blushing.  Thank god Josh is not here to see this.  He'd never let me live it down.

"Yes, CJ, that's what I'm saying."

"Well, good," she says.  "I'm glad you've decided to pursue this thing with Irving.  He sounds like a great guy."

"Oh, he is," I say.  "And he's--"  I pause, trying to figure out how to walk the fine line between plausibility and too much information.  "Irving is very considerate."

Carol, immediately understanding what "considerate" means in morning-after code, sighs.  "It's been months since I met a truly considerate man."

CJ, on the other hand, is not thrown off the track so easily.  "You were ambivalent about Irving yesterday," she points out.

"I wouldn't say ambivalent, CJ," I answer.  "Just -- you know, working out some, well, unresolved issues.  Which I have now resolved.  In Irving's favor.  And after spending the whole night alone with him, I can assure you that Irving and I are going to be together for a very long time."

***

CJ traps me in her office when I pop in to give her the weekly Grand Unified Theory update.  She hates theoretical physics, but at least she'll still listen.  Donna, on the other hand, has new and exciting ways to make me lose my train of thought whenever I bring up string theory.  Not that I'm complaining.

"Something doesn't add up, Josh," CJ says.

"Claudia Jean," I smirk.  "How many times have I told you the calculator can be your friend if you treat it right?"

"Joshua."

"Just being helpful."

"I don't buy it."  She is glaring at me.

"What?  The calculator thing?"

"Irving."

Oh, shit.

Maybe I can joke my way out of this conversation.

"Well, CJ, perhaps that's because purchasing people has been illegal in this country since--"

"Joshua," she warns.  "There's something... I don't know... off here."

Yeah, I didn't think it would work, either.

"What are you talking about?" I scoff.  "Irving's a perfectly nice guy."

She narrows her eyes at me.  "He is?"

Shit.  Shit.  Shit.

"Yes," I say.  "He is.  Bit of a lisp, though."

"You've met him?"

"Yes," I say.  "Last night."

She is doing that staring thing.  It's unnerving.

"You met Irving -- Donna's boyfriend Irving -- last night?"

"Yeah," I nod.  "I stopped by her place to--"

"Her place?"

Shit.

"Yeah," I admit.  "To work on that thing for Leo."

"You went to Donna's apartment to work?"

"Yes."  It's hard, but I don't continue to justify myself.  I talk almost as much as Donna when I'm lying, and CJ knows that.

"Last night," she says.

"Yes."

"And Irving just happened to be there?"

"Donna forgot she had a date."

CJ stares at me for a moment.

I attempt to appear guileless.  Totally without guile.  This is not a natural state for me, and I have a feeling I'm not pulling it off so well.

Finally, CJ nods.  "Okay."

"Okay?" I repeat, stupidly.

"Yeah," she says.  "Okay."

"Okay," I nod.

And then I get the hell out of there.

***

He's whistling.

Josh does not whistle.

He's too damn pleased with himself.  He is insufferably happy.  Which is my fault, of course.  I mean, I'm glad he's so happy; I really am.  But it's a complete change from yesterday, and people are going to get suspicious.

He stops by my desk, and I swear the silly man looks like he wants to kiss me.  Which puts images in my head that I really don't need right now.

I give him my angry face, which is a little difficult considering the fact that I'm still glowing from last night.

"What?" he asks.  Guess the angry face worked after all.

"You're making Irving sound ridiculous," I reply.

"Irving is ridiculous.  He's a gimp with a lisp and frankly I think this Will & Grace thing you've got going with him is--"

"Will & Grace?  Are you suggesting that Irving is gay?"

"He struck me as being in the closet, yes."

"And you base this conclusion on what evidence?"

"Oh come on, Donna.  Do I have to spell it out for you?"

"Yes, apparently you do."

Josh smirks.  Which I do not find half as lovable as I did last night.  "For starters, there's the lisp."

"The lisp is very slight.  Also very sexy."

"Whatever.  And there's the whole cooking thing."

"You think that Irving is gay because he's a gourmet cook?  Didn't you used to be a liberal?"

Josh shrugs.  "It's not the fact that he knows how to cook.  It's what happened while he was cooking."

"Just what do you maintain happened while he was cooking?"

"He made a pass at me."

"What?"  Yes, I raise my voice a tad here, but I'm sure you can see why it's justified.

"Your boyfriend made a pass at me.  What can I say?  I guess I'm just irresistible to both genders."

I move closer to him and whisper, "Believe me when I tell you that I have never found you more resistible."

Realizing that he may have made a tactical error of his own here and that we are attracting an audience, Josh suggests we move the conversation into his office.

The minute the door shuts behind us, Josh reaches for me.  I slip out of his arms rather gracefully and try to resume the conversation.

"Just what do you think you're doing, Josh?" I ask.  It's a reasonable question.

"Well, I was trying to kiss my wife," he answers.

"Ex-wife."

"Non-ex-wife. But what's the problem?"

"You are ruining Irving's reputation."

"Okay, Donna, time for a reality check.  Irving doesn't exist.  He's just your imaginary playmate."

"Exactly.  He's mine.  I get to decide what he's like.  He does not have a lisp.  And he is certainly not gay."

"I think being gay gives him more personality.  More depth.  Brings up all sorts of hidden motivations.  I mean, instead of just being the nondescript cross-eyed, lisping geek--"

"He is not cross-eyed."

"But you have finally admitted that he lisps, I see.  And that's exactly what I'm talking about.  It's those little details that are going to make Irving believable.  A well-rounded character, as it were.  Being gay just gives him another dimension."

"I still can't believe I actually married you.  What was I thinking?"

"Don't get me wrong.  I feel sorry for the poor guy, having to hide who he really is like that and all."

"Josh, why does Irving exist?"

"Because you needed a boyfriend to throw CJ off the track."

"Exactly.  And how much good will a gay boyfriend do me?"

"Oh.  Well."  He pauses.  "I could have been mistaken about Irving's sexual preference, I suppose."

"You were definitely mistaken.  As a matter of fact, Irving is the only real man I've ever made love to."  Take that, Lyman.

"Excuse me?" Josh's voice rises a few decibel levels.

"I told CJ I slept with Irving."

"You what?"

"Well, she said I looked -- the word she used was blissful."

"You don't look blissful to me."

"So I had to come up with a valid explanation, and Irving--"

"If we could ever get a lock for this damn door, I'd do something about your lack of bliss, believe me."

"So saying I made love to Irving last night seemed like a valid explanation."

"You let Irving Hackenbush take credit for that?  'Cause any bliss you might have been experiencing was directly attributable to me."

"Josh, will you listen to yourself?  You are so competitive."

"What does being competitive have to do with anything?"

"You're competing with Irving.  Irving is a fictional character.  Irving does not even exist."

"Well," Josh says, and he looks as close to sheepish as he ever gets, "it's the principle of the thing."

"You and your principles are going to get us fired.  CJ is already suspicious."

"She won't be suspicious any more.  I talked to her this morning.  Told her I met Irving last night, so--"

I sit down suddenly.  I have just realized the amount of trouble we're in.

"You did what?"

"I told CJ I met Irving.  That was the plan."

"No, that was not the plan.  There was no plan.  And I told CJ that I spent the night with Irving.  I never mentioned you showing up."

"My showing up doesn't fit your story?"

"CJ is a woman, Josh.  She'll know that I would never have slept with Irving if you'd shown up at my apartment last night."

"Even if we can convince her that I was only there for half an hour?"

"No, Josh. Irving is my rebound guy.  CJ knows that."

"I do not understand this."

"All right.  Listen carefully; I am only going to explain this once.  Irving is the guy you turn to because you can't have the guy you really want.  Which is you."

My latest tactical error -- saying something like that to the walking ego that is my non-ex-husband.

"Well, of course it's me," he says.  "Because, after all, Irving is really a cross-eyed, lisping--"

"I keep telling you that he's not cross-eyed!  Pay attention."

"I'm paying attention.  You want me, which demonstrates your inherent good taste.  You got Irving, which is regrettable, but you weren't thinking clearly because of that hopeless passion thing. I win."

"You know, I'm getting over you very quickly here.  But the point is that you don't sleep with the rebound guy when you've just seen the guy you really want."

"You don't?  I mean, wouldn't you, you know, be sort of in the mood because you just saw the guy you want and since good old Irving is right there--"

"No, Josh, you wouldn't.  There's the whole comparison thing.  No matter how good Irving looks, he's going to suffer in comparison to -- oh, stop smirking!"

"Sorry."  For the record, I would like to note that Josh does not stop smirking.  If possible, in fact, he smirks even more.

"And CJ knows me well enough to know I wouldn't--"

"Well, maybe you did.  Just this once.  You can sell it; I have faith in you.  Especially when you get to that embarrassing detail."

"What embarrassing detail?"

"You know, when in the throes of passion--"

"'Throes of passion'?  Have you been watching soap operas?"

"When in the throes of passion, you screamed my name."

"What do you mean I screamed your name?  When have you ever heard me do that?"

"Last night, to name just one time."

"I have no recollection of any such event."

"In the shower, remember?  I nearly fell."

"You did not, and I do not scream."

"Please!  My ears were ringing for ten minutes."

"Even if I did say something in the throes of passion, I was not screaming your name."

"Well, it certainly wasn't Irving's name.  Not even the same number of syllables."

"And I would not yell out your name if I was with Irving.  It isn't plausible, and CJ won't buy it.  Even if I would tell her something like that, which I wouldn't."

"Okay, maybe there were no throes of passion.  Maybe Irving isn't that good. I can live with that."

"You are ridiculous.  You know that, don't you?"

"Of course, in that case, you wouldn't look blissful.  No, if you slept with him, you must have called him Joshua.  Poor guy must have been crushed."

CJ is not going to buy any of this, of course.  But Josh is happy and joking and just generally being infuriating.  Again.  I'll gladly give up my job in return for this.

Which is good, because it looks like I may have to; Margaret arrives looking for Josh before we can continue the conversation.

***

The first thing Leo says to me when I reach his office is "Je t'aime?"

And that's when I know we're screwed.  Oh, yes, the Lyman-Moss Defense Strategy is going down in flames, and it's really all my fault.  Again.

But I'm nothing if not stubborn, and so I attempt to play it off.  "I didn't know you spoke French, Leo."

"I don't," he says.  "Je t'aime?"

I smirk at him and say, "Leo, you know I support gay rights, but I--"

"Josh," Leo interrupts, waving some papers in my direction.  "Don't play with me.  Do you know what I'm holding in my hands?"

"Papers," I state.  Best not to draw attention to those emails if--

"Emails, Josh."  Leo looks like he might actually leap his desk to come strangle me.  "Emails between you and Donna.  Emails which include you telling her that you love her."

"Leo--"

"Josh, it's right here in black and white!"

"Do you believe everything you read?"  I try for the joke.

Bad move.  Leo drops the papers and gets that soft, deadly tone to his voice.

"I'm trying to help you here, Josh," he says.  "Tell me the truth and we'll figure this whole thing out."

Oh, this is so very Not Good.

"There's nothing to tell," I lie.  Only, you know, the whole I Married My Assistant thing.  Nothing with which the White House Chief of Staff needs to concern himself.  Nothing at all.

"There certainly is.  How about starting with an explanation for these emails."

"What emails?"

Leo glares at me for a moment, then grabs the papers and thrusts them in my direction.  "The emails in which you all but state that you're having some sort of affair with your assistant and in which you state your love for her.  On the White House computers, Josh!  How could you be so stupid?"

I don't think it would help matters to point out I was in the midst of a nervous breakdown.  The man has a point, though. I was not thinking at all when I wrote those things.  Not thinking about my job, at least.  Or Donna's.

"First of all," I say, "nowhere did I state that I was having an affair with my assistant.  And for the record, I am not having an affair with my assistant."  Hey, she's my wife; that's not an affair, right?

Leo is staring at me with disbelief etched into every line of his face.  He snatches the papers back and flips through them for a moment.  "'I freely admit I was a jerk... yadda, yadda... Circumstances are no excuse for saying things like the things I said.  Especially to someone who is what you were to me.'"  He looks up at me.  "Care to define exactly what Donna was to you?"

"No," I answer.  "And I'm not sure it's legal for you to be reading my email like this--"

"It is," he states flatly.  "Email written on your computer at work is the property of your employer.  This is my email, Josh."

Oh.  You know, I really can't believe I was an Ivy League grad sometimes.  You'd think I'd have learned something at some point.

Leo keeps scanning the printouts.  "And there's something with Donna and an agreement that I don't understand."  He looks up at me suspiciously.  "I don't suppose you'll elucidate?"

I shake my head.

He scowls at me and turns his attention back to the emails.  "'Although my vow involved coffee, I think the unspoken subtext was that I would try not to ever hurt you with my words or actions.  Please understand that this is the only way I can make sure I no longer subject you to my fractured psyche--'"

"Leo," I interrupt.  I am incredibly angry that the words I intended as an olive branch for Donna are being turned into weapons.

"'--the way I did for the past few months.'"  He finishes and looks up at me.  "A vow, Josh?  Because, you know, Donna mentions that word in her email, too.  'The other thing has its own compensations.  Also its own vows--'"

"Leo, I am absolutely not going to dignify this with a discussion.  These were personal, private things that were supposed to remain between myself and Donna--"

"So you chose to use the White House email system?" he asks, incredulous.

"I'm serious, Leo."  I'm also yelling.  "If this were intended for you, it would have your damn name in the address line!"

"Josh, don't you dare try to take the high road on this--"

"Oh, because snooping through emails searching for ambiguity with which to persecute a member of your staff is morally unimpeachable."

And it's then I realize I've gone too far.  Leo was ambivalent about this.  More than likely he called me in here so that I would lie to him and he could believe it.  Instead, I have insulted his integrity.

Leo stares at me for a long time, but I can't seem to bring myself to apologize.

I am not having a stellar day.

Finally, he points to the door.  "Get out."

"Leo--"

"No, Josh," he says.  "Not now."

"We're not done," I argue.

"No," he says.  "We're not.  But we're not going to do this now.  Talk to me tomorrow."

"Leo--"

"Go."

Shit.

My original fear, back during The Mistletoe Fiasco, was that Donna would be fired.  Now, I'm not so sure she'll be the only one out on her ass.

And I've got only myself to blame.  As always.

***

"We have to leave."

Josh is standing by my desk.  He looks deathly pale.  I reach up to press my hand against his forehead.  I mean, it is cold and flu season.  He doesn't need a fever on top of everything else.

He grabs my arm and pushes my hand back down.  "Trust me.  That is the last thing you should be doing right now."

"What's going on?"

"I'll tell you in the car."

"Oh God.  Leo knows."

"Yeah."

"How'd he find out?"

"The emails."

I'm sure I just turned as pale as Josh looks.  "Leo read our emails?"

"Yeah."

"There's no chance you're referring to some other emails?"

"Let's just get out of here.  Now."

I nod, grab my purse and follow Josh out of the building.  Much like last Christmas, I imagine that people are looking at us curiously.  Of course, that could just be because it's Josh and me and we're not talking.

We continue not to talk on the drive back to Josh's.  I don't know what he's thinking, but I'm reviewing the stuff that was in those emails and I'm cringing at the thought of Leo McGarry reading them.

There was, of course, nothing damning in what we wrote.  Not really.  I mean, it's not like we were talking dirty over the White House computers.  But what we wrote was personal.  It was private.  It was intimate.  Extremely intimate.  Josh, especially, laid out his heart in those emails.  For anyone else to read that just feels like a violation.

Every word that I can remember from those emails -- and I have committed most of them to memory -- is incriminating.  I realize I'm prejudiced here, but I think that anyone who read them would understand that those words were written by two people who love each other deeply.

We're screwed.

I blame myself.  I could have stopped the whole email thing.  I could have written Josh back after the first one and said, "Fine.  Apology accepted.  We'll talk about it when you get back."  But, no, I was desperate for any kind of contact with Josh, so I just kept replying.  And now Leo is reading what I wrote.  As did whatever strangers got their hands on those messages before passing them along to Leo.

To be honest, the thought of other people reading what amounts to our personal version of love letters stings more than the possibility of losing my job.

I love my work.  I love the White House.  Mostly, I love working with Josh.  I'll hate losing that.  I'll mourn it.  But, on the plus side, I get to keep Josh.  Of course, if he's working in the West Wing sixteen hours a day and I'm not, I won't be seeing that much of him anymore.

Josh flops down on the sofa next to me.  "I'm pretty sure I got us both fired back there," he says.

"Don't be melodramatic," I reply.  "They're not going to fire the deputy chief of staff for getting married and writing a couple of harmless emails to his wife."

"Maybe not, but there is the whole insubordination issue."

"Insubordination?  Oh God, Josh, what did you do?"

"Leo was reading them.  The last two.  Out loud.  I sort of lost it."

"The very last two?  The ones--"

"Yeah.  Those."

"Oh God.  Well, I would have lost it too."

"Would you have accused Leo of snooping through our personal correspondence just to find material with which to persecute us?"

I wince.  "You said that out loud?  To Leo?"

Josh nods. "And I'm not sure, but I think I may have been shouting."

"This is not good."

"Leo threw me out of his office.  Which was probably just as well at that point.  But he wants to see us tomorrow."

"Okay, but that still doesn't mean he'll fire you.  We'll have to show him the marriage license, of course, but--"

"I really blew it, didn't I?"

"Yes, but I wouldn't have done any better."

We're silent for a minute because we're both reviewing the options and discovering that we don't have any.  Unless you count begging Leo not to fire Josh.  I'm perfectly willing to do that.  This is what I realized way back when Josh was in danger of being fired over the Mary Marsh incident: Josh doesn't just love politics; he needs it.  It's as essential to him as food and water.  Take his political career away from Josh Lyman, and he will not survive.  Literally.  That would destroy him in a way that the bullet and the trial and being the target of so much hatred could not.  And I will do anything to prevent that.

Because here is what will happen:  If Josh is fired by Leo and President Bartlet, his career is over.  He won't be able to find a candidate for city council who would hire him.  And eventually he'd look at me and realize that he'd still be in the White House if we'd just been able to keep our hands off each other.  So, gradually, he'd come to hate me.  And that might not destroy me, but it would come pretty close.

I'm thinking about all this, but I can't bring myself to say anything out loud.  Then Josh does something rather amazing.  He looks at me, and he says, "You do realize that you mean more to me than a career in politics does, don't you?"

How scary is it that he can now follow my train of thought when I'm not even talking?  And how sweet is it that he truly believes that?

Even though I know he's wrong.

I'm in the middle of the only possible response to that statement when the doorbell rings.  Josh groans, breaks off the kiss, and goes to answer the door.

One minute later, CJ is standing in the middle of the living room.  She gives Josh and me a long, hard stare.

"Of course the two of you would be here together looking all domestic," she says.  "Just like a couple of newlyweds."

Oh shit.

***

"CJ," I scowl up at her.  "This is not what I need right now."

"You're right," she shoots back.  "What you need right now is a solid reason for Leo not to fire you."

Donna touches my arm and gives me her resigned face.  I know what she's thinking; we're going to have to come clean about the marriage.  After a moment, I nod.  So much for our brilliant strategy.

Donna turns back to CJ.  "The thing is, CJ, that Josh and I--"

"No," CJ interrupts.  "No, no, no.  I do not want or need any sort of details about..."  She pauses, then waves her hand at us. "...this.  Please, I beg of you, keep me in the dark."

"But we do have a solid reason," I argue.  I open my mouth to say more, but Donna whacks me.  "Ow!"

"CJ," Donna asks, "how do you even know about this?"

"Sam."

"Sam?" I repeat.  "How does Sam know?"

"Toby." CJ claims the low armchair in the corner.  "As near as I can figure, Toby walked in on the middle of Leo's snit -- Josh, did you really accuse him of snooping?"

I give her a sheepish nod.

"That was pretty stupid," CJ comments.

"No kidding," Donna says.

"Toby?" I prompt.

"Right," CJ nods.  "Leo was pretty angry, and Toby got him to explain why.  Well, you know how Toby hates to help, so he 'slipped' while talking to Sam and told him.  Sam told me."

"Just to clarify," Donna says.  "What exactly did Leo tell Toby?"

CJ glances at me, then meets Donna's gaze.  "That he had no other recourse than to fire you."

"Oh."  Donna shrinks a little beside me as she digests this.

I will kill Leo.  I really will.

"That is bullshit," I say. Loudly. I'm feeling hostile.

"Hey, I'm with you," CJ agrees.  "This is sexist and it's unfair and I'm not going to stand for it."

"Sexist?" I scoff.  I really don't know what made me do that with two eloquent and loquacious feminists in the room, but then again, prudence has never been listed among my admirable qualities.  "You know what?  Never mind--"

"Yes, Joshua," CJ says.  "Sexist.  You know full well that it is always the woman who is punished in this situation.  Why is that?  What makes Donna more culpable -- hypothetically -- than you are?  The fact that she's not a part of the Good Ol' Boys network?"

"CJ, I know--"

"You really don't, Josh," she interrupts.  "And don't even get me started on the argument that the less powerful participant is the one who should be let go because that would have less effect on the rest of the staff when conveniently the less powerful participant of most boss-assistant conflicts is the female."

Donna gives CJ a knowing look.  "No kidding."

I venture to speak.  "But to get this back on track--"

"I'm not going to let Leo fire Donna," CJ says.  "I will absolutely not let that happen.  It's not fair."

"Exactly," I say.  "No one should be fired over this."

"I didn't say that," CJ frowns.  "If anyone should be fired, it should be you."

"What?" I sputter.

Donna shakes her head.  "No, CJ, that's not fair either."

"He's your superior," CJ points out.  "It's his responsibility to keep your work environment safe."

"My work environment is safe," Donna argues.

"I know that, Donna," CJ says, "but the appearance of impropriety--"

"He's the deputy chief of staff, CJ."  Donna is really angry.  "And he has done nothing wrong.  He didn't threaten my job to get me to sleep with him.  He doesn't grope me in the office.  There's no hostile work environment--"

"Would you prefer to both be fired?" CJ asks, exasperated.

Donna and I are silent for a long moment.  Then she gives CJ a defiant look and takes my hand.  "No," Donna says.  "We're going to tell Leo--"

"That you have a very sweet, very loving boyfriend named Irving," CJ says.

I shake my head.  "CJ, that's not going to work.  We're going to tell Leo--"

"Stop saying that," CJ interrupts.  "Please stop saying that.  You're not going to tell Leo anything you haven't cleared through me."

"We have a plan, Claudia Jean," I say.

"Well, your plan needs some serious revision, Joshua... What the hell is your middle name?"

"Mateusz," Donna supplies.

CJ looks at me.  "Your middle name is Mateusz?"

"It's a family name," I say, then turn to Donna.  "How did you know that?"

CJ leans forward.  "Guys--"

"How do you think?" Donna says.  "It's right there on your White House I.D., not to mention the marr--"

"Donna!" I yelp.

Too late.

CJ is staring at us, mouth agape.  "Are you kidding me?"

"Yes," I say.  "We're kidding.  You know how Donna likes to joke."

"The ring?" CJ asks, still incredulous.

I shoot Donna an exasperated look.  "You showed her the ring?"

"No, Joshua," Donna says to me.  She turns to CJ.  "The ring is from Irving."

CJ ignores Donna and gives me a contemplative look.  "I didn't know you had it in you, Josh."

"CJ," I say, "it's not--"

"You should know better than to confirm or deny, Joshua," CJ gives me a smile.  "I'm just making a general statement here."

Donna nods.  "And it is very appreciated, CJ.  Generally speaking."

CJ just keeps staring at us for a moment.  "Wow."  She shakes her head.  "I should inform you, hypothetically, that this possible solution is, you know, boneheaded at best--"

"Boneheaded?" I say.  "Donna and I getting--"

"Joshua Mateusz Lyman," CJ shouts.  "Stop saying that.  This is bad enough as it is.  I can not have a confirmation of any sort of what I may have inferred here today.  I am pleased -- on a hypothetical level -- about this.  I am also terrified of what this could mean for this administration, as well as for your jobs.  So let's just drop it."

I am very nervous about this.  "CJ--"

"Josh, quit it," she interrupts.  "That's a side issue right now.  I have a plan to deal with the Leo situation."

Beside me, Donna perks up.  "One that doesn't involve any sort of, you know, revelations?"

CJ nods.  "And one that will keep you both employed.  I hope."

"Great," I say with a smile for Donna.  "See?  I told you this would all work out just fine."

Donna gives me her amused face.  "No, you didn't."

"Well, those may not have been my exact words--"

"Your exact words were, if I'm not mistaken, 'I'm pretty sure I got us both fired.'"

"Okay, but--"

"Kids," CJ interrupts.  "Can I ask you to focus for just a minute on the catastrophe at hand?"

"Right," Donna nods.  "Sorry."

"You had a plan?" I ask.

"Yup."

"Okay, what do we need to do?"

"First of all," CJ says with an apprehensive look at me.  "You need to give me a copy of those emails."

***

You have not experienced true embarrassment until you have spent an evening waiting while one of your co-workers sits in the next room reading the private messages you wrote the man you love.  This situation is so uncomfortable that Josh has been rendered speechless for the last half hour.

CJ demanded printouts and then took them into the bedroom.  We offered to let her have the sofa while we waited in the bedroom.  As you can probably guess, CJ did not react well to that suggestion.

"Idiot!"

"Did you say something, CJ?" I shout.

"No," she calls back.

Josh seems rather obsessed with the pattern of the area rug.  At least, I'm assuming that's why he keeps looking down instead of making eye contact with me.

The next thing we hear is something that sounds, I swear to God, like laughter.  I turn around and look toward the bedroom, but I can't read CJ's expression clearly.

"That's got to be a good sign, don't you think?" I whisper to Josh.

"Oh yeah.  I'm always comforted when people start laughing at me."

"Vowing?" CJ screams.  "Of all the stupid things--"

"You said it first," Josh whispers.

The next thing we hear sounds rather like sniffling.  Also something that sounds like "Where's my damn Kleenex?"

When CJ finally emerges from the bedroom, her eyes are suspiciously watery.  She's carrying the printouts, which are now covered in red ink.

"You edited them?" Josh asks.

"I circled the parts that will have to be explained," CJ responds.

Josh groans, but he wisely chooses not to protest as CJ spreads the printouts onto the coffee table.

"The first one," CJ says, "shouldn't be too difficult to explain.  Josh was a jerk about something, which no one will find difficult to believe, and he's apologizing.  The only problematic part is this sentence -- 'As for other, you were the most supportive, kind, giving and loving person I could have ever hoped to be involved with.'  Care to explain?"

"I should think that sentence is self-explanatory," Josh says.

"Yes, it is," CJ replies.  "And that's the problem.  'Loving' all by itself is damaging enough, but when you combine it with 'involved,' there's really only one explanation."

"Do you have any suggestions?" I ask before Josh can say something we'll regret.

"He got carried away," CJ says.  "He doesn't apologize that often, and he's not very good at it.  He meant 'loving' in a platonic sort of way and 'involved' in a professional capacity."

"What about 'as for the other'?" I ask.  "How do we explain what 'the other' is?"

"He refers, of course, to the fact that you had to put your life on hold and take care of him after the shooting," CJ says.

"This is humiliating," Josh mutters.

"Live with it," CJ answers.  "Then there's this classic: 'Especially to someone who is what you were to me.'  I'm sure I know what you meant by this strange little phrase.  The past tense obviously refers to your fear that Donna was about to resign over your irrational behavior."

"Whatever," Josh says.

"Just memorize your part and deal with it," CJ tells him.  "Now I think we're okay until you, Donna, apparently lose your capacity to reason and resort to using the word 'vowing.'"  She holds up a hand to stop me before I can explain.  "You were overstating the case.  Emphasizing the fact that Josh had promised that he wouldn't expect you to bring him coffee.  On the job.  Which apparently is an issue with you two for reasons I don't even want to know."

"Okay," I say.  "That's believable."

"Of course it's believable," CJ says.  "It's the truth.  Now there's this whole matter of the agreement.  You're really going to have to help me out here."

"Gee, really?" Josh asks.  "We get to help?"

"Don't push me, Josh," CJ replies.  "Just explain the damn agreement in a logical manner.  That has to do with work."

"We agreed--"  Josh starts.

"That I don't have to work overtime anymore.  Home by six every evening from now on, that's me," I say.  What?  I can't make this work to my advantage?

"In exchange for working through lunch three times a week," Josh adds.

"That was never part of the agreement," I say.

"So you can see why we talk about needing to work out the details," he tells CJ.  Turning to me, he adds, "Because I am not agreeing to the overtime thing without some compensation."

"I'd say you've been getting more than your share of compensation lately," I answer.

"For the love of God, Donna," CJ says, "I expect Josh to be an idiot, but you should know better than to say things like that in front of a third party."

She's right, of course.  "Sorry," I say.

And that's how the rest of our evening goes.  Sentence by sentence, we go through those emails and devise logical explanations for each ambiguous word.  Then CJ has us rehearse our explanations until we have them memorized and our delivery meets her rather demanding standards.

It is hell.

***

I really thought things couldn't get more humiliating.  I mean, I sat there while Leo read snippets of my personal, private emails.  Then I let CJ dissect those same words and construct quasi-logical, platonic explanations for them while I silently contemplated just quitting to avoid having to do this again, plus beg for forgiveness.

But here we are, Donna and me.  In Leo's office.  Standing at attention -- with a good deal of distance between us.  You know, playing our roles to the hilt.

Leo's here, too, but he's ignoring us.  He waved us in, held up one finger, and went back to scribbling on the memo before him.  It's one of his tactics.  Hell, it's one of my tactics.  But recognition doesn't make it less effective.  I swear I can feel the tension radiating from Donna.

Finally, Leo finishes with a flourish and drops the pen.  He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms.  "So," he says.  "Tell me why I shouldn't fire you both right now?"

So much for the indirect approach.

Donna and I exchange a quick glance, and I start my rehearsed speech.

"First, Leo, I'd like to apologize for my attitude yesterday, and especially for the things I said to you."  I pause, still not really wanting to remind him of what, precisely, I said.  "You know, the thing about snooping--"

"And persecution," Leo adds.  "Don't forget I was snooping so that I could then persecute."

Shit.

"Persecute," I repeat.  That, too.  Leo, you're the most honest politician I have ever had the honor to know, and I'd like to extend my most sincere apologies to you."

Leo stares at me for a second.  "What the hell are you talking about?"

"What do you mean?  I'm apologizing."

"You sound like a damn Hallmark card here."

Donna nods beside me.  "That's because he never apologizes.  He's terrible at it.  So when he does, he goes overboard and uses these words that--"

"Donna," I say quietly.  She's reciting her lines in the wrong place, and it's throwing me off.

"You were saying?" Leo turns to her.  "'Cause I'd really like to hear from you on this, considering the email thing."

"He never apologizes, Leo," Donna repeats.  "He's terrible at it--"

"Donna," I say again.

She looks at me and gives me a half-shrug.  "You are, Josh.  It's like once you bring yourself to admit you're wrong, you have to grovel for a while, and you end up sounding like, well, a Hallmark card."

Okay, that was not in the script.  I open my mouth to argue with her.  Luckily, Leo starts talking first.

"So what you're telling me is this is all a misunderstanding because Josh apologizes like some kind of sap?"

I think I'm offended.

"Wait a second there, Leo," I say.  "Some kind of sap?"

"Do you need me to read this out loud?" Leo gestures to his desk.

"Nope," I say.  I'm not that offended.

"Leo," Donna says.  "This is a misunderstanding.  Josh and I are not having an affair."

Yeah, I sold her on the whole 'we're married so it's not an affair' thing.  We didn't run it by CJ for obvious reasons, but I think it's a good bit of improvisation.

"You're not," Leo repeats, disbelief coloring his words.

"We're really not, Leo," I confirm.  I am utterly convinced of my righteousness in this moment, and I think that confidence sways Leo.  Slightly.

"Fine," Leo nods.  "But these emails--"

"You're misunderstanding them," Donna says.  "I mean, it's text-based communication, so the nuances are lost."

"I'm aware of that, Donna.  Which nuance am I missing when you use the word 'vow' a few thousand times?  And there's something really suspicious about this agreement--"

"It's all about coffee, Leo," I interrupt.  "You're threatening to fire us over coffee."

"Josh," he warns.  "Don't get cute with me today."

Donna wisely takes over.  "It really is about coffee.  Josh often tries to treat me as if I were merely a typist or an answering service.  I do perform those functions because they are in my job description, but I draw the line at waitressing.  And may I point out that nowhere does it state in the White House Employment Guide that I am required to bring coffee to my boss."

Leo rolls his eyes.  "Donna--"

"I'm serious, Leo," she continues.  "I find that attitude to be degrading and, to be quite honest, somewhat sexist."

Um, this was absolutely not in the script.  I step forward.  "What Donna is trying to say--"

"I'm saying that it's a remnant of the time when men were the bosses and women were the secretaries."  Donna just keeps talking.  "And women are always in charge of the food, right?  So why not carry that over into the office environment and give the women a job they can handle?"

"That's why you won't bring me coffee?" I ask.  I can't believe this woman sometimes -- she chooses a meeting with Leo in which our fates are to be decided to go off on a feminist rant about coffee.

"Yes, Josh."  Donna turns to me.  "That's exactly why.  I am not my mother."

"Thank God," I say, then tell Leo, "Her mother voted for Reagan."

Donna nods beside me.  "Twice."

Leo just stares at us for a long moment.  "I don't know what to do with you two."

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"I mean this... this thing you keep doing!"  Leo waves one hand around helplessly.  "This bickering.  You sound like an old married couple."

I really really hope my expression is neutral.  I'm thinking neutral thoughts.  I really am.  Please, God, let my expression be neutral.  "That's ridiculous, Leo."

"Just explain the 'I love you' thing," Leo sighs.  "Please just explain that to me.  Why are you telling Donna you love her?"

Donna and I discussed this last night after CJ left: what we'd do if we were directly questioned about the love thing.  We agreed that we wouldn't lie or denounce this thing we have.  As long as we can talk around it and make statements that are, strictly speaking, true, fine.  But I will not stand there and deny that I love Donna.  I refuse.

And so I attempt the misdirection.  "I was reciting the one phrase I remembered from French class."

"Josh," Leo scowls at me.

"I'm serious, Leo," I say.  "If you dropped me in the middle of Paris right now, I could count to ten and I could say 'I love you.'  Other than that..."  I shrug.

Leo stares at us again. Just stares for a long time.  It's unnerving.

Finally, he turns to Donna.  "So this guy with the stupid name?"

Donna has her confused face on.  "Irving?"

"Yeah," Leo nods.  "Irving."

"I'm afraid to ask how you know about my boyfriend," Donna says.

Make-believe boyfriend, I amend in my head.  Yes, I know I have issues.

"CJ was in here earlier," Leo says.  "She mentioned she'd met your boyfriend with the stupid name."

"She did?" I glance at Donna.  "CJ met Irving?"

"Yes, Josh," Donna answers nervously.  She turns back to Leo.  "Did you have a question about Irving?"

Leo narrows his eyes.  "No.  Just don't, you know, email him on your White House account, okay?"

I can't believe it.  We're going to keep our jobs.  I really can't believe it.  I don't dare look at Donna.

"Yes, sir," she answers.  "Thank you, Leo."

"Yeah," he says gruffly.  "Get out of here."

Donna flees the office with a worried glance at me.

I stay where I am and wait for Leo to speak.

"Josh," he says.  "I'm serious about this.  I don't need this in the press.  I won't let it get to the press, you understand me?"

"Yes," I nod.  "It won't get to the press."

"Fine," he says.  "Did you finish the draft of the welfare bill?"

I blink rapidly, trying to switch gears.  "Yeah, it's on my desk.  Do you want it now?"

"That would be nice."

And that's it.  Problem solved.

***

"You met Irving?" I ask CJ.  I'm sitting on the couch in her office, trying not to worry about Josh forgetting his lines and getting hostile again without me there to remind him.

"Yes, I met Irving," CJ replies in her no-nonsense, don't-you-dare-contradict-me voice.

"You didn't think he was crosseyed, did you?"

"Crosseyed?" CJ looks at me as though she thinks I have lost my wits.

"Josh says Irving's crosseyed," I explain.

"You and Josh talk about Irving?"

"Well, yeah."

"You two have a very strange relationship.  You understand that, don't you?"

I shrug.  "It works for us.  But you'll back me up about Irving, won't you?  'Cause Josh is being irrational about it."

"Just what would you consider rational behavior where Irving is concerned?"

"Well, you know, Irving isn't crosseyed. I think it's perfectly rational to have a boyfriend who isn't crosseyed.  Especially since I agreed to the lisp."

"Irving has a lisp?"

"Damn straight the gimp has a lisp."  I turn around to see Josh standing in the doorway.  Smiling.  We are not fired!  Thank you, Irving!

"What did Leo say?" CJ asks.

"He said he doesn't want to see Donna and me in the papers."

"He mentioned the press?" CJ asks.  "Leo's worried about the press?"

"I wouldn't say worried," Josh says.  "He just mentioned it."

"This is serious," CJ responds.  "This is a serious matter, Josh.  You have got to be cautious.  And you should remember what I told you three years ago."

Okay, now I'm confused.  "What did you tell him?" I ask.

"It was when I first hired you," Josh explains.  "I believe her exact words were 'If you hurt that girl, I'll break your kneecaps.'"

I'm smiling.  I just find that very touching, you know?

"CJ agrees with me that Irving isn't crosseyed," I tell Josh.

"Well, you're both wrong," Josh says.  "The geek is definitely crosseyed."

CJ sighs, as though she has no recourse but to play along.  "He's not crosseyed, Josh.  Accept it and move on."

"All right," Josh says, "but you have to admit that he does lisp."

"It's not a lisp," CJ says.  I can tell she's falling under Irving's spell.  "It's an accent.  A very sexy accent."

"He's French," I add helpfully.

"He limps," Josh says.  "I saw him limp."

"Skiing accident," I add.  "He's very athletic."

"And tall," CJ says.  "Very, very tall."

Josh and I look at CJ with interest.

CJ shrugs.  "Irving is every woman's ideal," she says.  "You're just going to have to admit that and live with it, Josh."

"Whatever," Josh says.  "Now that we still have jobs, Donna, can we please get back to work?"

I nod and start to follow Josh out of the room.

"Guys," CJ calls after us, "you owe me.  You are going to owe me for a very, very long time."

"How long?" Josh asks.

"Months," CJ says.  "Possibly even years."

"Irving and I will name our first-born daughter Claudia Jean," I offer.

"Claudia Jean Hackenbush," Josh mutters and shakes his head.

"Not enough," CJ says.  "I'll be calling in favors when you least expect it."

Josh looks more concerned about that than he looked in Leo's office.  But he just nods and says in this quiet voice, "CJ, thanks.  Really.  And you'll never have to break my kneecaps."

Some days, you know, I am very proud of him.

As we leave CJ's office, Josh looks at me skeptically.  "You actually want me to believe that someone named Irving Seymour Hackenbush is French?"

"Yes, he is," I insist.  "At night, he whispers 'Je t'aime' in my ear before I fall asleep."

Josh practically blushes.  I'm betting he didn't think I heard that last night.  He recovers quickly, however.

"Think you'll be hearing that tonight?"

"Well, you know, if my boss doesn't make me work too late."

"That could be arranged," he says.

I'm betting we may actually leave the office before 9 p.m. tonight.

***

"You're kicking me out?" I ask, incredulous.

Of course, I'm still laying naked in her bed, my head propped on my hand.  It's not like I'm going anywhere momentarily.

"Josh, be realistic," Donna answers.  "We were in Leo's office today reinterpreting our emails to throw off suspicion.  Do you really think it would be a good idea for you to stay the night?"

"Huh?"  She's wearing only an oversize silk nightshirt, so you'll forgive me if I'm distracted.

"You can't stay the night."

"Why not?"  Did I mention it's green?  Dark green.  And it does amazing things next to her alabaster skin.

"Because," she says, "This marr--"

She stops mid-sentence.

I tear my gaze from her legs.  "Marriage?" I ask.

"No."  Donna shakes her head.  "I didn't say that."

"Donna--"

"I did not say that, Joshua," she puts her hands on her hips. The nightshirt rides up.

I am entranced.

"Joshua," Donna repeats.  I look up at her, and she indicates her face with her hands.  "Up here."

"Sorry."  I am smirking.  And I am not at all sorry.

"We're divorced," she says.

"We are not." I argue.  "We have a non-divorce divorce agreement."

Donna rolls her eyes.  "It's still a divorce."

"No, it isn't," I insist.  I am not divorced from this woman.  I don't plan on ever being divorced from this woman.

"Josh, we have an agreement."

"Not anymore."

She narrows her eyes at me.  "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying we should nullify our non-divorce divorce."

Donna barely moves, just crosses her arms underneath her breasts and juts her hip out the slightest bit.  And she is absolutely irresistible.

I am actually reaching for her before I realize it.

She smirks down at me.  "Joshua?"

"Yes?"

"Are you saying you want to be married to me again?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure it's not just the sex?  We've been having an awful lot of sex."

"This is a bad thing?" I ask.

"No," she grins.  "Not at all.  I'm just saying, if you're basing your nullification proposal on copious amounts of sex, that might not be the best basis for a new marriage."

"A new marriage?"

"Well, a remarriage, anyway."

"How about I'm basing it on the fact that I can't stop smiling when you're around?"

Donna's hand flutters to her mouth.  "Joshua."

I smile up at her.  "Donnatella?"

"Yeah?"

"Get your ass over here."

This is bliss.  Donna and I are married, CJ's not going to break my kneecaps, and Leo's letting us keep our jobs.

I have no worries.  Not one worry.

Except, you know, the price of keeping CJ quiet.

I hate owing people favors.

But the worst part is I owe my largest debt to a fictional character.

And I still say he's cross-eyed.

THE END

11.14.00