I stand in the front lobby of her building, and greet the doorman. He smiles at me, and hands me a candy cane. I tuck it into my pocket, and make my way up to her apartment. I knock on her door, and I hear her yell ‘coming!’. When she opens the door, I’m greeted by a police dog she’s training- Jules. I let her jump up on me, scratching behind her ears and petting her head as her tail wags.

She lets me in and takes my coat, hanging it up in her coat closet while I take in her place. She has a balcony off her living room, and a big, greenhouse-style skylight in her kitchen. Speaking of- her house smells great. “What’re you making?” I ask, and she smiles. I love her smile- not that I’d ever tell her. It’s silly, but I kiss her anyway.

“Oh, I decided on chilli and fresh cornbread. Hope that okay?” She asks, and I nod. I’m so used to greasy diner foods or whatever shitty, small meal Caroline and I can scrape together. Her Christmas tree is in the corner and is decorated well, but she takes my hand and pulls me to her kitchen island, sitting me down on a barstool. “Yeah, sounds great.” I tell her, and watch as she pulls out a nice bottle of champagne.

She pours me a glass of the pale, bubbling liquid. “None for you?” I ask, and she pulls out a bottle of pear cider for herself. “No, actually. I’m five years sober. I spent some time in Afghanistan, started drinking after that.” She says, smiling at me. I’ve never understood how she can talk about her service with a smile on her face, or how she can talk about it at all. She wears up screaming some nights, doesn’t remember she’s not there.

She might be a Sargent in the NYPD again, but she still lives her life like she’s on active duty- up at five, strict training regimens and physical fitness tests, no luxuries aside from a bed and a phone that she wouldn’t have should she go back. She serves me a bowl, with two slices of cornbread, some sour cream, and a bit of cheddar cheese. I dig in, and she smiles. She makes herself a bowl then sits next to me to eat.

We watch some television- me cuddled into her side and a blanket over both of us. Then, we move to the bedroom. It starts off kissing, and she slowly backs me onto the bed. She gives me every opportunity to refuse, but I don’t. Undressing is slow and unhurried- we’re making love to learn each other, not just to fulfill a need. For the first time in a while, it’s about the horny, not the destination.

Her hands are calloused, but gentle. She asks permission before every step, and makes sure to make me feel pretty. I wore a matching set, and the first thing she does is tell me I am beautiful, and that this was an exquisite decision. We work each other up and reach our respective peaks, then she cleans up while I shower. She changes the sheets and throws her other ones in the washer. I come out and raid her closet- her boxers, her shirt.

I settle in her bed with Jules while she showers. She comes out, towel around her hips and hair wet. She crosses her arms, shaking her head. “Oh, you sneaky thing. You know you aren’t allowed in the bed!” She says to the dog, smiling again. She reaches over to pull her off my lap, but I give her a look and she relents. She grabs her pyjamas- an army-issue shirt with army-issue briefs. She slides into bed with me, and I turn on the TV.