DODGING ANGELS.

"A bite sounds great. Cash is with grandma, getting their quality time in. It's tough since he's back at school so they see less of each other now." She loved how close they were and emi truly wouldn't have made it this far without her mother's help. "We can go back to your house if you want but I'm down to walk somewhere here if you are." ( @cheyohara )

"We could make this a weekly date," she offered, a glance to the woman at her side. Someone she'd known for so long. "I might bring Max along sometimes and you can bring Cash and or your mom, or anyone else..." There was a playful nudge into her friend's side.

"How would you feel about being set up on a date?" Not that Remi had asked or expressed it recently, but she'd known that the gorgeous brunette had been wanting to dip her toes back into the dating scene.

Even more so after learning of what they'd lost.

It was never a lack of wanting her, but more so, an attempt at healing alongside her without burying feelings between the sheets or any other suitable surface beneath her quiet roof.

For months, he'd stolen glances of the woman simply existing. From scanning over papers from the college, to working on her podcast, to standing at the bathroom sink while sleep slowly evaded her... everything had made it difficult to not break.

Heart thundered against his ribcage and a boyish grin stretched on his mouth as he thought of the moment the floodgates were opened wide. What had started at a late hour in the night had welcomed the sun come morning. She'd worn his shirt around the kitchen and to no avail and exhaustion aside, he'd had atop the counter as the coffee brewed quietly in the background.

He'd never hold back again.

"Our North Star." Words were spoken barely above a whisper, lips brushing against her forehead as he lingered close. The immeasurable lost could never be replaced, but what it had taught them along the way was something the tattoo artist clutched onto almost as tightly as he held the professor in his arms.

When it came to art, every piece, no matter the size, had meaning. When he peered down at the woman beneath his dark lashes, he knew that he understood that. Art was subjective to an extent, but some pieces had a deep enough meaning that only a few could grasp it's importance. For them, it would always be stars.

Max lifted a hand from her side to trail his knuckles along her jawline. Every inch of her was chiseled perfection — art in it's purest form. Her hazels told stories and the curve of her mouth had their own tales too. "Rich coming from you," he exhaled in a barely audible rasp. She could put even the greatest writers to shame, make the best speakers seem lackluster by comparison, could challenge him with a brush, and her ability to create on keys? "It means a lot coming from the woman who just might be able to do anything."

The peppered kisses left him wanting, no, needing more. A low, playful him of need fell into the nearly nonexistent space between them. "I won't let you down." There had never been another promise he'd felt so confident in.

"Is it because I do the funny voices?" He cracked a smile in response to the image that had been painted so clearly within his mind. One where she was curled between his legs while he read from a book handpicked by the professor herself. At times, he'd read a line in a funny voice just to see if she was still awake. Most of the time, he was met with quiet hums of laughter and the warmest smile he'd ever seen.

Brows lifted and the smile he wore grew lopsided. The food had long been forgotten atop the counters and the untouched plates had too. A new kind of hunger had formed the moment she stepped into his space and the perfume tailored to her skin filled his head. Everything after had only further sealed the fate he couldn't wait to fall into. "I think I can make that happen," he nodded, voice tapering off as their mouths collided with an unforgiving need.

From that night at the pool hall to swaying in their kitchen with arms embracing one another, Chey often had felt that every step between them had taken so much time. Then, when she realized they were barely approaching a year since they'd met, the brunette felt equally amazed and stunned at all that had transpired in just a year.

By early summer it had felt as though her entire world had fallen apart, but by the end of it this incredible man and artist had filled up her living space and made a house a home. They healed some through connection and care, not through messy and bad habits. Then the aftermath of someone else's wedding night had unraveled a night of making love.

In little more than six months they'd gone from something more carnal and purely physical to a physical act of just how much feeling they had for one another.

Looking back, Chey wouldn't change a thing.

As harrowing and painful as the loss was for herself and the man that held her heart in his hands, she'd discovered that it was a restart.

Now is the time to get things right, to do things right.

"Shining brighter than all the stars in the sky," the professor chimed in softly, hazel peered up at the man's whose arms made her feel at home. "I'm so looking forward to seeing what you create for us." It would be worn with so much love. The brunette's thoughts soon ventured to the wall they'd planned to paint a tribute to Maxime, all the more wanting to get started because that little star had been the first to breathe new life into her broken heart.

A perfectly shaped brow arched, the podcaster nearly took his words as a challenge. Chey had the ability to do many things, but could she do any of them well? Her childhood had been one of lonesomeness and exclusion, the little brunette had all the time in the world to delve into whatever interest she had. Painting had been an escape, a way to push the feelings she couldn't put words to out of her. Reading had allowed Chey to see that there were other, better worlds out there and that had given her hope. When it had come to the piano she'd picked it up a couple of years ago, always had been too timid to give a lifelong dream a shot, and now she was able to write her own music. Nothing incredibly music but she was improving over time.

Unlike Max, who seemed to make everything look so effortless. He led and supported her through example, and she couldn't have been more grateful for the way he shared with her.

"Someone who can do anything versus someone who can do anything and make it look easy and effortless..." The slight curve of her lips was more teasing and full of mirth than her attempting to debate with the tattoo artist.

"I know you won't." You never have, she nearly added but decidedly refrained from putting pressure on his shoulders despite wanting him to know that fact. "You are a treasure to me," the professor rasped in a soft whisper, hand on her stomach, "we're so lucky to have you."

At the mention of the voices he'd make when reading aloud of of her books while they were cuddled up either in bed or on the couch, she couldn't restrain the chuckle that burst out. "Yes, it's a thousand percent the voices." It was what made him him. Someone she felt so much for, to the point where she wasn't even sure how any of it could be put into words. "You always think I'm asleep when I'm just listening to my favorite sound in the world— your voice."

As it went, once the barrier had been broken and the walls had come down it was difficult for any moment to not turn to something sensual. They had much to celebrate and feel good about, but also were still in the beginning phase and honeymoon stage of their union. Once she'd known she could touch him, kiss him, and make love to him anytime she wanted there was nothing to hold her back.

He'd missed her way too much, so of course he was happy to have found a small breech in both their schedules to check in on how she was doing. The news of her pregnancy had been met with such joy that he couldn't wait for the newest arrival, if he were being honest. Especially since they had already talked about basically forcing Selvi and the O'Hara offspring to love each other and be best friends until eternity.

Psh, like they had a choice.

"Selvi's okay." With a smile, Hoon helped adjusting his own jacket around her body. "She's growing up way too fast for my own liking." He almost sighed, shaking his head as he did. "I swear, I'm going gray thinking about her loving someone else more than me." Granted, it would take her solid fifteen years (if he were lucky) to make it happen, but for now, he liked being her whole world. Well... him and Dilan, of course. "Glad you're doing better, kid. We're past the first trimester, right? Can I start buying my godchild things?" He teased as he threw his arm over her shoulders, gently guiding Chey outside her office.

As for him... there was nothing new he could share. His life had been pretty boring lately. No dates, just Selvi and work. The last time he'd had a drink had been visiting Elliot, to celebrate his newest engagement and well... that was it. "I'm okay, too." What else could he say, right? 'He could've been better, but he could also have been worse?' Wasn't that everyone? "Birthday's drawing near, so there's that awful feeling of being old and having nothing to offer, which, I know it's not true, but... well... you know." He shrugged. Truth was, he missed having someone to share those things. He missed being in a relationship and being cared for in that romantic way...

His birthday coming up also meant that two weeks later was Valentine's day, and he was going to spend this year's alone. Heavy sigh.

How else did she hold up during all of those pub nights?

It'd been too long since she'd been able to spend any real solid time with her old friend, and the podcaster has certainly missed him a great deal. In some ways he felt like an extension to her, Jake was that embedded into her life.

"She's not even that old," a laugh bubbled up her delicate throat. "Love that she's already got you wrapped around your finger that much." It was something she was eager to see with Max when their own child came into the world, to see how he'd take to fatherhood. The professor knew he'd be a natural and an amazing dad. Just like how her dear friend had shown up to be. "How big is she now?"

Another smile decorated Chey's lips and those hazel eyes rolled once more. "She can never love anyone the way she loves her daddy. So be good to that baby girl," without a doubt she knew he would be, "you're gonna be the big example of how she loves herself and accepts love from others. Set that bar high." Chey squeezed him tight and shifted out of her office as they began their quest for some grub.

"We're past the first trimester. Things are going scarily well." Since the moment the brunette had found out she and Max had been gifted another chance she'd been a nervous wreck, but she was now beginning to settle. The horrific memories of early summer last year not far from thought. "You can start buying them things. We don't know the sex of the baby yet..."

As they made their way out of the building, the professor listened to her friend share his updates on his life. Naturally, some ideas sprang to life in her mind. "So you're not of the idea that growing older is a privilege?" A nudge from her body into his, "how would you feel about me setting you up on a date? Maybe even two..." Remi and Lena had come to mind, though the veterinarian had a child of her own and she could see more compatibility there. Both were a smokeshow so Jacob would make out well.

"Aside from that thought— we're definitely gonna do something for your birthday. Even if it something more chill at my house." Because the brunette wasn't drinking now and wouldn't be for some time, going out to some of her favorite scenes just weren't the same. "Could even invite one or two of those beautiful ladies..."

"You had to learn the lesson somehow. Clearly I'm just behind." She peered down at her shirt and the unforgiving stain. She felt like a mess and now she looked like one too.

It was a running theme, apparently. Her smile faded slightly, but held by a thread. The baker had jumped headfirst into an investment deal, regardless of how many names she'd entertained before settling on one trustworthy man. It was ironic considering her lack of general trust in them. "It's something I do on my own. If I'm being honest, I think I'm in over my head sometimes."

A degree would help, but experience was the only thing that would truly make the difference. Though, one could argue that having an accountant would have been a good safe measure, regardless of education or experience. "Wouldn't happen to know any good accountants, would you?" A joke mostly, but a sense of hopefulness had settled in her gaze.

With or without one, she'd be fine. She had to be fine.

She studied the professor and admired her grace. Was she even aware of how perfect she made everything seem? Verda blew out a steady breath, head shaking in response to the question. "He's nice. Much nicer than I expected, but he's firm. He's not one to sugarcoat things and I think that scares me the most. When it's over, it'll be over."

And with her current numbers, she feared those dreadful words rolling off his tongue in an apologetic way. "Numbers weren't what I wanted them to be. First time in the two years I've been open." There. She'd said it aloud, but no weight lifted from her shoulders.

"Yeah, I'll meet there. Just knock." Lungs rattled shakily as she forced a deep breath in and held it until the lock clicked behind her. One glance over her shoulder and she was staring back at herself. What confidence she'd possessed had been washed away by the spilled coffee. Who was she even kidding?

Thankfully, the knock at the door saved her from her own thoughts. Once the other was inside, she stepped back and watched in awe. Who would have guessed that her savior would have been a woman she'd snuck away from an open mic night with? She parted her mouth to speak, but a breathy hum landed instead. "Please, look at you. I could never compare," she countered, smile fully stretched wide.

After quick thought, she nodded towards the blue striped shirt. "Mind if I try that one? And you can tell me if it works?"

"Look at it this way," the professor offered, "you're way too beautiful for the person you're meeting to even notice or care about a coffee stain." Mostly, the brunette just wanted to keep a smile on Verda's face. The woman had been a breath of fresh air when they had met and had saved her from a very dark night.

A night that's she'd never forget.

"It's okay if you are. Sounds like you just have your hands full, and running a business is really challenging." It said something for the baker that she was so busy that keeping up with the books was faltering a little bit.

"Personally, I do not." There hadn't really been a need for an accountant. Especially since she was the strange type that even did her taxes on her own each year. "But I have a friend that's a business owner and I'm sure she can pass along a good name if you're interested." Lena and the Book Bar had come to mind, as she was another woman way too busy for her own good. Seemingly she held it all together well.

From the little she'd learned of Verda from that one night, Chey knew not to count the woman out. She took to a new game fearlessly and did really well, plus the brunette found the woman to be perceptive.

A smirk played at the corner of her lips, "what investor isn't firm?" There was a playful roll of her eyes. Chey was only personally familiar with one, Jacob, and while she knew him differently there was the knowledge that he took business seriously. Sometimes a little too much, but perhaps he was softening up now that he was a father. "You really think you're anywhere near being over?"

As someone who had been down for the count and truly beat up by life over and over again, she knew to never count it out. "If you're short or not meeting projections there's a way to fix that. Give me a moment and I'll come up with something." A little laughter bubbled up her throat.

The confession brought forth a nod and then a moment later she shrugged a single shoulder. "I'm sorry, I know that has to be stressing you out. Any idea what's caused the numbers to dip like that? Any big life events or changes?" Even with that knowledge the podcaster couldn't see things going bad for Verda.

A few minutes later, squeezed into a bathroom that could've been a bit bigger, she grinned and pulled out the shirt with the blue stripes and handed it over to the baker. It was wild to think they'd gone from darts to sharing clothes in just two meetings, but these were the types of things that Chey loved. "There's no comparison. I'm still not fully convinced you didn't step off a catwalk and into an open mic night to play darts with me." More humor, hopefully it was aiding in lifting Verda's spirits about her upcoming meeting.

"Okay, put it on and I'll, umm, yeah—" More soft laughs and Chey turned around to give the baker some privacy. "If you look better in it than me then I might just have you keep it. Not sure I'd be able to take it back after seeing you fill it out better."

With Asher out of town for awhile, Yas was ready to cling to whatever friends she had. She loved her best friend to pieces, but getting to know other friends a bit better couldn't hurt either.

"Definitely, though. Get the sunnies, you look great, your class will get a kick out of it," she agreed with a firm nod. She could picture it, Chey walking into a classroom in them, the class all reacting in a comical way.

The derby sounded like the best of the options, but lunch was a far more realistic option. "You know what, we should. We could wear them to the country club and probably fit right in," she suggested, not doubting for a moment that the ladies at the country club probably dressed like this all the time. "We definitely are due. When are you free next?"

A trip to Kentucky for the derby where they wouldn't even really pay much attention to the races.

"God, that would be so much fun," she nearly gasped. "But okay, I'll get the glasses and you get the hat..." A smirk played on the professor's lips because it would be pointless buys for the both of them but the laughs and smiles the items brought seemed worth it to Chey.

"Oh, my god," another chuckle, "let's do it. Let's go to lunch at the country club and act like we've been members for years." With Yas being a doctor it was likely she'd fit right in, and if anything, the podcaster could be her guest.

He hated malls. He hated crowds, and the overpowering smell of the food court, or the fact that people turned into rabid animals when they saw one of those big ‘sale’ signs in a clothing store. Ophelia asked him to come join her once he finished work for the day, because her partner was busy and she was needing the company. Which was probably a fat lie, considering she quickly waltzed off after fifteen minutes, leaving him to his own devices. Not hungry, and not in the mood to mindlessly wander the shops, he approached a bench with a woman sitting on it. Might as well get himself comfortable for a few hours until his sister returned, after all. “Do you mind if I sit? I’ve been ditched for hating malls, apparently. Just me, though. I’m sure my wallet was in her bag.”

After chewing and swallowing another bite, the brunette took another glance at him while wiping her fingertips on a napkin. "I hate malls, too," the confession came out with a slight sigh as her gaze panned around to the groups of people moving about. "If my aunt's birthday wasn't coming up soon I'd be stuffing my face elsewhere."

Her mouth, her hands, her everything. One lifetime wasn't going to be enough, but he be damned if he missed another second of time. Slowly, and against every colorful image painted beneath his lids, he captured her sharp features as a short distance was placed between them. Far enough to see her clearly, but close enough that one lazy dip downwards would be all it took to capture her mouth once more.

The professor had taught him more in months than he'd learned his whole life. Even on the nights where the woman sat perched in her home office in one of his worn out shirts, he was learning. He'd come to love the way her brows furrowed as she scanned over papers, or the way her hazel hues seemed to glimmer with life when she read a book. In one woman, he'd found the world.

"Nothing wrong with that." He'd stumbled onto a path of thought himself, on that had led him to the point of the conversation at hand. For as long as he could remember, art had been his safe place. As a child, he'd watched his father create with the intention of making something of himself, but what the man had thought him was that creating for oneself was the most rewarding kind of art.

Over the years, he'd put his life into it. Some pieces happy, some pieces sad, and others not quite settling on any one emotion, but a range of them. Their loss, the pain of it all, had both left a void within him, all while sparking something new. Something that no one could ever take away from either of them.

Fatherhood had been a foreign concept until the parking lot of the cafe. How one hell of a night had led them to her kitchen, their kitchen, he'd never quite grasp. Luck had never been on his side and beyond the wicked twist of their story, he felt like one of the luckiest people alive.

His grip tightened at waist and his heart hammered a few beats quicker. "Stars," he hummed, emotion caught in his throat. Too many nights to count had spent under them and more than once, he'd heard the brunette refer to their child as Little Star. It wasn't much of an idea, but the concept itself had been rooted deep in his mind since the moment it had settled there. "I know it's not as magical as you were probably thinking it would be, but I think that... I know that I want to do something with the stars."

He studied the woman intently, his gaze slightly blurring. He'd never considered being a father and yet, as he dared to drop his view for no more than a few seconds, he knew that his life had meant little before this moment.

The tattoo artist leaned forward, his forehead grazing hers as eyes fluttered closed. He didn't need to see her to know that a smile hung off her mouth. It was in the pitch of her voice and too many times he'd watched as she beamed it back at him and spoke one word or another. "I promise. If I ever leave this town, you're coming with me. You both are," he assured, lips brushing against hers before another firm kiss was placed on her mouth.

With the little space between them once more, he scanned over her features and heaved a playful sigh. "If you want, i could try. You're the professor here though. I'm not sure I could do those details justice. I'm more of a show it kind of guy." He could tell an entire story with art, but words? That was the department he struggled with at times. "Want me to draw you a picture instead?"

Hands slid from her waist and fell to the dip of her back, fingers clasping together there as he dared to take a step closer. It was impossible to get close enough, but he lingered with a boyish grin hanging off his mouth. "It'll be alright. You have other plans in mind?" He nipped at his bottom lip, but as the question rolled off his tongue, he dipped lower once more and captured her mouth with his own.

There were so many different variants to the ways they spoke to one another that the professor knew it would fill up a lifetime and then some.

The only thing the brunette questioned was how had life turned out this way. Her beginnings weren't just humble, they were hard years that left unfortunate permanent scars, then everything that followed was a show of not being good enough. No one wanted to stay, to choose her, and let her heal with their love and support. Chey's traumas were negatives that made people run.

Then Max walked into her life and suddenly the podcaster had felt seen. Nothing was too much or too little, with him it was a proof of showing up each day regardless of how good or bad it was.

It may have been premature to say or feel such things, but Chey knew that this was how it was supposed to be. She felt it in her bones.

Nothing in the way they had come together had followed a map, anyway.

"Stars," the brunette repeated, a faint smile ghosting her lips as lids closed over hazel. The night sky was so well imprinted on her memory that she could see the vastness of the twinkling magic on the backs of her eyelids at any given time. "Never forget who you are, little star. Shining brighter than all the stars in the sky," she muttered quietly, barely above a whisper. It could've been considered a conversation or a prayer, but it was generally followed up with: never forget where you come from, from love.

Since she was a child Chey had known she wanted to be a mother some day. Not so much because it was the expected course of life for a woman, or that it was simply something imbedded in the genetic human code, but because she'd always felt a greater purpose for it.

Maybe it was something all hopeful mothers felt. Her hands smoothed over where a bump would eventually be protruding and her eyes opened to reveal the other half of the magic. They were destined to create this life, nothing was clearer than that to her, and Chey knew this baby was to have their mark on the world.

"Are you kidding?" Easily she melted into his touch and the way his strong arms wrapped her up in warmth and care. "Every little thing he does is magic," the brunette lightly sang, lightening up what was beginning to be a heavy moment for her. "Your talent and creativity always amazes me. Nothing would be more perfect or fitting than stars."

A kiss, then a few more were returned to his lips, "good, we're holding you to that promise." Because not being together didn't feel right anymore.

"I think you need to give yourself some more credit," she said as her arms laid over his and her hands rested on his shoulders, appreciating the closeness. "You know one of my favorite things is when you read to me..." It was impossible to say if it was his voice, the way his tones carried the words, or because like most things— he put color to life.

"Well, Mr Show Kind of Guy, there's something you can show me right now..." The mood had turned, something that couldn't be contributed to hormones alone. Ever since they had bridged that gap and popped that bubble that had formed between them there was a freedom in giving into those passions.

"I hope so," she answered with a bit of fire in the words. "Look around, this place is meant to be inspiration." If not the next great novel then maybe the next noteworthy piece of art. In whatever form that could come in. "I keep thinking it's going to be you. Either something you've written or one of your paintings." The first time she'd seen Chey's work, Lena still remembers, she'd been in awe.

For a while there, Chey had nearly been convinced that the darkness would've consumed her. However, she and her partner were blessed with another chance.

One that made hazel land on the artist's drink with a small tinge of envy.

"At least I could recite whole passages from a book," she claimed proudly, hoping she was a cut above the rest with that. At one point the podcaster had been one of the gorgeous woman's suitors, albeit quietly and in secret with no attempts made, but she would wouldn't trade this brazen woman's friendship for anything.

At Lena's comment, she glanced up from checking her texts, and looked baffled for a moment. This woman she was sitting with was a rockstar, a trailblazer, a trendsetter, and she thought Chey had a chance of making it big?

No way.

With a shake of her head and a dismissive smile, "maybe a stroke of genius will get me with my writing but never with the painting. I'm really not that good." At that point she wanted to mention Max, he was the real talent when it came to creation with paints, an incredibly inspiring man.

To have found out he was going to be a father and just that, in past tense, had hit him harder than he could have ever imagined. Nearly thirty-seven years had passed him by and at no point had he ever wanted such a lifelong feat. Yet, after learning of how close he'd come to just that, the thought of being a father had consumed him. More than that, it was the thought of being a father alongside the brunette.

"I bet it tastes even better," he taunted in a singsong tone that carried throughout the home. His wandering soul had been tethered to another and just how or when it had happened, he'd never know. What he did know was that Providence Peak wasn't the place he wanted to call home — it was her. Wherever she was, that was home.

A deep belly sigh of reprieve ghosted off his tongue as the woman's touch consumed him. her lips having left a stain of warmth on his cheek. "Ahh, forever the thinker," he teased before closing the distance between them, mouth capturing hers in a short, but firm kiss, only to lean in once more, the second kiss longer. His hands found solace at her waist, grip tight and proof his need for her. He lingered there in her heat, stomach knotting with desire and the food nearly forgotten.

Against every odd, the tattoo artist slowly peeled himself from her mouth, but his hands remained against her clothing covered sides, even if every part of him wanted to shed each layer to the floor beneath. "Just had an idea about a tattoo for the both of us. I know we'll never forget, but art is forever."

A hand lifted to brush against her sharp jawline, a trail that he'd peppered kisses along too many times to count. "I'm right here." And nothing was going to change that. What wandering he'd felt curious to do before her had faded away. The only thing he wanted now was to await the adventure that slowly grew within her.

Eyes fluttered closed, the comfort of her hands in his hair enough to lull him into a deep sleep while standing. "Beer and coffee isn't that good anyway," he exhaled in a lazy rasp. His dark orbs found her hazels, the whole world displayed in every strand of color. "I'm as good as it gets. Better now though." As the words fell into the air, he dipped down, stealing another kiss before straightening. "Do you want me to put your plate in your office?"

With his hands settled on her waist, Chey's arms reached up and her hands gently locked together at the nape of his neck. The heat of their bodies scorched into each other as desire pooled low in her belly. It wasn't just hormones changing or going haywire, she'd found it difficult to keep her touch from Max since the moment they'd breached that barrier.

"You know I can't help myself." A childhood full of endless torment produced a grown woman who overthought every little thing at least three times. It was habit now. But, at the same time, she wanted to hear every little thought that passed through his creative mind. There was none other like him, the artist brazenly himself in a world of everyone trying so hard to fit in.

They felt the same about art and he been slowly showing each other the products of their souls. Art was forever. Art was timeless.

"I wanna hear about it," Chey encouraged, "I'll bet it's something magical."

To her, that's what the rough around the edges man was. Their meeting, just one night, had changed the course of hers forever. Max had made such a huge impact in less than a year's time. She was in awe of him, every little thing he did, and how he fearlessly put his heart into things.

Not only that, he also put life into her. The little star they'd lost and the current growing within was proof of that. Now, she wasn't sure how she'd ever live a life without him. Everything had happened so naturally, easily, without conversation or a plan. They connected, bonded and healed through loss, he moved in, another chance had been granted to them, and now he was hers.

This was how it was always supposed to be, and it made her sometimes think back to dating and trying to find someone. Truly, by the time Max had entered her life she'd just given up on trying to find someone.

Magic was at play in this life.

"You promise you'll never ever go anywhere?" They began to sway and a smile crept onto her lips once again. It was a challenge to keep one off at this point in his presence. "Or, if you do, you'll take me with you?"

Even though he was saying the supportive things to make her feel less in missing out on her favorite things, she shook her brunette head at him. "Aren't you supposed to be taking it on for the two of us now?" Of course she knew that wasn't how it worked, nor did she expect it. "You could always enjoy and let me watch— describe in detail how good it tastes..."

The store was, however, more or less only filled with dramatic looks, as evidenced by the pair of glasses that Chey was trying on. They were a bit much, but so was the rest of the store. "Those shades, though, really killing it. Movie star level for sure," she teased, nose wrinkling gently as she laughed.

A grateful laughter continued, her head bobbing towards Chey before she whipped the hat back off to put on the shelf again. "I don't know where I'd wear this thing. Kentucky Derby or southern Easter Sunday are probably my only two choices." Neither of which she had any plans to attend any time in the near future.

"I don't know horse racing schedules and I'm not entirely sure how far it is to Kentucky, but— I'd be happy to get a gaudy hat and attend with you."

Feeling silly as the doctor praised the sunglasses resting on the bridge of her nose, the professor posed and had her little moment. "You think I should get these and walk into one of my classes like nothing?" The smirk on her face was undeniable.

"If we don't wear these to the derby or Easter Sunday, then we should at least where them to lunch," the podcaster jested, or maybe it was a suggestion she played off by putting the sunnies back on the shelf.

The baker chewed at her bottom lip, nipping the inside until the taste of iron stained her tongue. Where had she gone wrong? A breath hitched in her throat as her dark hues scanned over the page once more, but nothing was changing. She'd screwed up and all she could do was own it.

Warmth spread through her veins, a mix of flustered frustration and embarrassment settling on her cheeks. If only she'd stuck to her sadness in seclusion, but the mere thought of sitting across from her investor with no outside buzz to offer her an ounce of reprieve was had caused her stomach to flip.

Buzz was good. As were distractions until they weren't.

A deep breath was sucked into her lungs, proof that not all air had been drained from the diner like she'd previously thought. One out of three did her little good, but she pocketed the knowledge. Note to self, pack an extra shirt.

"So, not only do you know a solution, but you also have a backup to your solution. I thought you were at your best at the bar. Guess I was wrong." She cracked a soft and welcoming smile, one painted from the genuine feeling of comfort the other had offered in an instant.

Dark locks brushed against her shoulders, head shaking side to side slowly. "I never thought about keeping a spare. Guess I'm wholly unprepared." And according to the numbers atop those coffee stained pages, that wasn't surprising.

Important was an understatement, but labeling the meeting caused a familiar twist in her stomach that caused her smile to falter. "Are you sure? Normally, I'd just run home and change, but I'm meeting with my investor. I like going over the quarterly reports with him, it makes me feel like I have more control over what I'm doing." As a woman figuring out business, it gave her an ounce of power. "So, yeah. It's kind of important and I'm clearly not handling it well so far. What about you? Working on something big?"

Seeing people in moments where they thought no one was watching.

Not that she had been creeping, her hazel gaze had only ventured to the gorgeous baker and quick study at bar games when she'd heard that curse under her breath.

Something that had also just begun to dawn on her that the last time they'd seen one another had been many months ago, and it had been in the midst of darkness. At least for her. Though, Chey distinctly remembered the troubles at home that Verda had been drinking about and working through.

It was almost night and day, the difference for the professor at least. The loss had curled up in her chest but there was something blooming in her now, brightening her and making the podcaster much happier. A wonderful man and partner, the life growing inside of her...

"I'm sure," Chey said with an encouraging nod of her head and shifted around in her seat to get to her feet as she listened. "That definitely sounds big and important and scary." Investor meetings sounded like something that would be akin to meetings with the dean. "Do you have an accountant there with you or is this something you handle yourself?" Curiosity had gotten the better of her, especially since they'd touched on business the last time they'd spoken.

Dealing with something like an investor could be a nightmare and the brunette hoped that Verda had someone in her corner, someone that could speak of profit projections and market trends. Or maybe that was a financial analyst.

"Is he tough?" Her fingers had found her keys in her bag. "Or is there something you're unsure of?" Despite not having been in business, the last thing she wanted to see was someone who had worked so hard for her success to be this nervous before a meeting. Verda had come off so confidently the first time they'd met and seeing even slightly shaken was tugging at something within the professor.

"I'll be right back. You wanna meet me in the bathroom?" Fingers pointed toward the direction The Teacher's Lounge bathrooms were in and she headed outside to the lot to fetch her dry cleaning from the back of her car.

When Chey returned inside she headed straight for the restaurant's bathroom and squeezed herself inside after knocking on the door and announcing herself. Luckily there was a coat hook on the inside of the door where she hung her dry cleaning.

It had been a few weeks since he'd seen her in person. Chit chatting and annoying your little soulsister every day through texts didn't really count, right? The holidays usually kept him pretty busy and now that he had Selvi, Jacob's end of the year seemed to have gotten even busier, but now that it was all in the past, of course he was going to make time for one of his favorite people.

After shooting Chey a text to check where she was, Jacob made his way there and knocked on her door before peeking his head in. "Uh... Excuse me, Mrs. O'Hara but I forgot to turn in my paper. Can I get an extra day to submit it?" With that, he flashed her a smiled and stepped in. "Brought you an extra jacket." He said as he moved closer to her and wrapped his arms around her petite frame, then planted a kiss on the side of her head. "How's your stomach doing, kid? Feeling better? I was thinking we could go to the Teacher's Lounge and grab something to eat? On me."

Of course the professor was doing her best to keep positive, and Max had once again been incredibly helpful, but trickles of doubt always seeped in.

In fact, the brunette had only told few people of the pregnancy thus far. Jacob, the dear friend who'd just texted he was on his way to her office, was one of those to have received the special news. It had actually been something that had compelled Chey to smile in knowing that their children would be close in age.

"If all you did was forget to turn it in— then why do you need an extra day?" A smirk formed on the podcaster's lips before she'd even lifted her hazel gaze from the papers she was grading through, knowing that voice too well.

"Hey, stranger," Chey greeted when their gazes met and stood up to greet him with an embrace. "Thank you," she said when they pulled apart and just before she slipped the jacket he'd brought her onto her lithe frame.