Me sarcastic? Never!

Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

"Fancy seeing you here, Morales!"

Frankie turns around to see you right behind him, waiting in line at the bakery. His heart skips a beat. You are wearing simple clothing, and your hair is pretty messy, tied up, with stray curls everywhere, but he thinks you look even better than when you are all polished at work. Not that you aren't beautiful at work. It's just good to see you more laid back. He can sense his whole face illuminating with a large smile, happy to see you, and he doesn't even think to hide it.

"Considering I'm the one who told you about the place, it's not that surprising."

"I came to see if your suggestion was as good as you said. But seeing the line, I think you might be on to something." Your own smile is as wide as his. He likes the way you keep him on his toes, the fact that you seem happy to see him, despite the horrible first impression he gave you, but that you keep reminding him in a way that he is not totally off the hook.

The line moves up a bit, and you ask, "What do you recommend?"

"The Cuban is always perfect. If you're more into chicken, I'd recommend the Fire Bird, but it's pretty spicy."

"I can handle my fire." You say, a glint of challenge in your eyes.

He can't help his own competitiveness, and with a dare in his voice, when there is a call for the next customer, he asks, "You trust me to order?" You barely hesitate, giving him a nod with a grin on your face. He turns back to the woman behind the counter.

"Holà, quiero dos fire birds, una flip guava y un quesito, por favor. Y… un momento.[Hi, I'll have two Fire Birds, a flip guava and a quesito, please. And… one moment]" He turns to you. "What do you want to drink?"

"A coffee is fine." He looks back at the worker and adds, "Un americano y un cortadito. Gracias, [One americano and a cortadito. Thank you]" and before you can say anything, he pays for you both. Looking back at you, he realizes that he might have gotten carried away.

"I'm sorry, I didn't think. I ordered to eat here. But if you'd rather take your order to go, I can change that."

Does he see a shy smile and a faint flush on your face? He hopes so. "No, here is fine."

"OK, let's find a seat." Gesturing toward a table by the window, he lets you sit before taking his own.

Your orders arrive soon. Placing one of the coffee cups in front of you, he tells you, "This is an expresso with sugar and milk. It's pretty strong, but the milk and sugar helps cut back the strength of the coffee. If you like it, it's yours. If you don't, here's your americano." He watches you take a sip, wince a bit, and set the cup back in front of him.

"I'm sorry. I like my coffee black. Sometimes with milk, but never with anything sweet."

"That's fine. I'll drink it," and he takes a gulp, closing his eyes, the taste bringing him back to the first time his abuela made him taste it, back when he was visiting her on summers back in Ponce.

When he opens his eyes, you are looking at him, a smile on your face, and feels the urge to explain.

"I don't know how they make it. I've never been able to recreate it, but it tastes exactly how my grandmother used to make it."

"You never asked them for the recipe?"

"I have thought about it, but I guess I wanna try and recreate it myself."

"A little stubborn, I see." You tease him, and he finds that he is enjoying it thoroughly.

"I have been called worse", he laughs. "OK, let's see how well you handle the Fire Bird, Eat up!"

You take a first bite into the sandwich, munching slowly, before exclaiming, "It's so good!" he watches you continue eating until he sees the first sign of heat when your eyes start to water a bit, and you put your sandwich down and start searching for something to ease the fire.

"Damn, you were right." You cough when he comes back with two glasses of water.

"Are you going to be OK? I can get you something else."

"No! It's hotter than I imagined, but it's good, and I'll eat it. Next time I'll think of getting something other than coffee to drink." You gulp down the water and gesture to him. I don't see you eating, let's see how you bear the heat!"

He takes a big bite, and powers through, even if he is suffering a bit. He does have a good tolerance for spice, but this sandwich is pretty dam hot.

You both eat in quiet fr a bit, a quiet that soon turns to giggles, and then full-on laughter, when you ransack the napkin dispenser to blow your nose and get up twice again to get more water. But every time he offers to get something else, you refuse.

"Who's the most stubborn here?" He asks once you finish the sandwich and drain your 4th glass of water.

"Oh, I know I am, and I know it will be my downfall. But maybe next time I'll stick with the Cuban."

"Still hungry? I got two desserts, but you can take them to go."

No, I'm fine, I'm happy to finish on something sweet and less spicy. Unless they are, in which case I'll let you take them back home."

"Nothing spicy, I swear, " he holds his hand up, in a mock Scouts gesture, "those are little pastries, this one filled with guava paste and that one with a type of cream cheese. They are delicious with coffee. Which one do you want to try?"

He sees you hesitate, and is about to tell you you don't have to if you don't like it, but he surprises you when you back up at him with a twinkle in the eye.

"I want to try both, can we share?"

"Of course!" When you bite half of the guava one, and some jam sticks to the corner of your mouth, it takes him a lot of restraint not to clean it with his finger and let it linger on your lips.

—

"I think I like him." You blurt out unexpectedly, while both you and Di are walking along the trail in the park next to where she lives. It's nice and cool, and you decided to take an evening walk after dinner at her place. The words are unexpected, but the thoughts have been on your mind all evening- heck, since that impromptu lunch at the bakery.

"Huh? Who are you talking about?" Di looks at you, bewildered. She was also lost in her own thoughts, you realize, as you both walked in silence for a while now.

You are ready to brush it off, change the subject, run away, and never tell her. But you also know she would chase you until you spoke, so instead you tell her.Frankie."

"What? Since when?"

"I don't know… I guess I found out he was single last week, and then it's been gradually coming." You feel a little embarrassed at how quickly your feelings just appeared, almost out of nowhere.

"You didn't tell me!" You look at her accusingly; she's the one who's been withholding a relationship, you are just telling her about a crush you just discovered. But you also know why she's saying this. You don't just fall easily, not anymore."

"I didn't really want to," you finally admit, "he's my coworker. It felt weird."

"Why now? What made you change?" What she is saying is, "Why are you telling me?" Because telling her is admitting it to yourself, and most likely wanting to pursue it. And that's new. You mull this for a bit; you hadn't really thought about the why.

"I guess… He's nice. And gentle, and fun, and… I don't know, I just enjoy spending time with him." It's as simple as that.

And you can tell Di is curious, and also a little baffled when she asks, "How much time have you spent with him?" Because you haven't told her everything.

"Apart from drink after work last week, I had lunch with him–"

"WHAT?"Now she sounds pissed you didn't say anything

"It wasn't planned! We bumped into each other at a bakery, and well, we talked and had lunch. And it was fun."

"Well, I'll be damned, Macho Man is actually the one to break the walls."

"Oh shut up! He's not like that, OK? And it's just a crush, I don't know. I don't want to talk about it anymore." You don't know why you are annoyed. It's very new, and you want her to tease you. But you also know she's just trying to lighten the mood.

"What about your guy? You haven't told me much about him. Am I ever going to meet him?"

"Maybe… Maybe you could meet him someday. I.. want to, but I'm also a little scared. And I think he is too."

"Do you know anything about his friends?" You watch her as she hesitates to speak, you spy a bench and gesture for her to sit with you. This seems a little deeper.

"Well, I haven't met any of them yet. He's been a little cagey, but me too, so I can't really be angry about it. As I said, we are both a little scared. I think he didn't see this coming either. I think he's kind of a man slut." She chuckles

"Well, that's a wonderful coincidence." This owes you her elbow in your stomach and exaggerates the hurt playfully as you both laugh.

"I guess we are both happy about what we have. But we haven't really defined anything yet. We have both mentioned we aren't seeing anyone else, and don't want to. And we both started more about our lives outside of work and our friends and family, but it's like baby steps." You watch her she smiles, looking in the distance, lost in her thoughts, and you just know this is more than she lets on. "He knows a little about you," Di adds, turning to you.

"Wow, I feel privileged." And you really do, knowing she speaks of you. When she never tells anyone anything personal, it's a lot.

"And I know he has a brother and friends from the army that he considers as family. They are a tight group, and all live in Tampa. Well, one is traveling a lot, but the rest are here."

"What does he do? You haven't told me."

"Oh! He has a gym! Like a big fancy trendy one in Ybor. He's also a former MMA fighter, yeah I know, don't look at me like that, OK." You look at her with an innocent look, but you both know you thought the same thing, he really is the opposite of the kind of guy she usually sees. " He doesn't fight anymore, but he's also a trainer. And his brother runs a program at the gym for veterans and people who use sports as a therapy, physical and mental. It's kinda great. Benny helps with that part too."

"Benny! Finally a name!"

"Yeah yeah, anyways, let's circle back to your sexy, single dad pilot." She gives your shoulder a shove, and you shove her right back.

"I never said he was sexy." Di gives you a look.

"Fine, he is! Oh my god, he is so broad, but not like overly muscular. And he has a dimple when he smiles. He's so hot." You hide your face in your hand, embarrassed but also giddy.

"Are you telling me you just care about his looks? You are so shallow."

She teases you until you leave her to go back home.

—

Ben and Will were already sitting at the table when Frankie gets there. They are discussing with Gil, who turns to give him a hello as he sits down in front of Benny. Just as he sits, the door opens, and Tom comes inside, sitting next to him.

Gil takes their orders, Frankie notices Tom doesn't get alcohol, going instead for water. He looks a little less tired. Frankie is happy to see this.

"When are you going to ask her out?" Ben whispers-yells as Will shushes him.

"Stop! She can hear you!"

Frankie snorts; sometimes Benny and Will act like teenagers- mostly Benny, but it makes big, serious Will look like a kid caught doing something bad, and it's hard not to laugh out loud. Even Tom is smirking.

"Well? Do something about it, dude!" Benny's whisper is barely lower than the previous one, but Gillian is further away.

"She doesn't want that." Will mumbles

"Dude, are you blind? What is happening with you? She's clearly into you."

"She is, Will," Tom pipes in, and Frankie nods when he catches Will's eyes.

"I don't want her to feel like she has to thank me."

"What do you mean? She doesn't know–" Benny interjects but can't finish his sentence, Will cuts him off.

"Still, I helped her, and she's grateful. I don't want her to feel like she has to say yes if I ask her." He pauses and adds, almost to himself, "I know she's been through stuff."

Frankie feels the need to reassure him, he doesn't like the insecurity he sees in Will's eyes. Will, listen, this is all to your credit, but I can tell you, this has nothing to do with it. I can see the way she looks at you. And only you."

"Yeah, Fish's right. She was already into you before you helped her out. I swear. We've been coming here since before she started working here. She was into you from the first time. She knew your preferences before knowing mine."

"I always order the same thing."Will shakes his head

"Yes, but she remembered after like the third time. I almost always order the same dessert, and she never remembers. And she turned me down."

"She can turn you down and not be into Will", Tom slaps Benny on the head playfully, before adding to Will, "even if yes, she is into you. It's plain as day."

"I know! I'm not that vain! I was just trying to make a point."

"Speaking of which. Don't you have anything to tell us?" Will turns to his younger brother, ready to changer the subject.

"I don't know what you mean." Benny looks at his plate, very interested in his food.

"You have an awful lot of meetings downtown." Will adds.

"I'm just working a lot. You are just jealous that I pull my weight more around work than you do."

"Benjamin Miller, don't you accuse me of that. If I hadn't been there, you would be broke with 3 damaged Ferraris." The tone is playful, but something switches in Benny's eyes, and the fun leaves him completely.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know, stupid Benny would have spent all his money, stupid Benny can't think straight because of all the punches he got when he was fighting."

Gillian arrives then with their food, and there is a tense silence as they wait for her to leave. Will looks guilty, Tom and Frankie feel uncomfortable. There is something lingering there, some unspoken resentment that surfaces, and they don't know what to say.

"Benny, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. I–"

"No, it's fine. I know. It is true, and thank you for what you did. But I sometimes wish you didn't treat me like that anymore."

"I… I didn't… yes, of course. I won't do that anymore."

"Thanks."

The silence lingers as they eat, and Frankie racks his brain trying to find something to say. But it's Tom who saves the day.

"I can't believe you pulled that off, Benny." Benny looks up, totally bewildered. "You managed to change the conversation so that you didn't have to admit that you are finally in a committed relationship."

Benny blushes furiously, and Frankie and Will start laughing, while he tries to find something to say, only to admit in defeat. "Fine! Yes. But I'm never introducing her to any of you morons."

"If she can tolerate you and your manners, she'll be fine with us."

"Fuck you all." But Benny is grinning from ear to ear, and the rest of the lunch passes in laughter while they eventually manage to get some information from Benny.

—

Frankie's giving his living room a last look, having cleaned it up after putting Mia to sleep. She asked him to read her her new books every night since she got here. He is delighted that they were a hit, even the one about separated parents.

He's ready to go to his own bed and try to read some pages of his current book when his phone rings, an international number showing up on the screen. Grinning, he answers as he steps onto his back porch, making sure he's not going to wake up Mia if he laughs too loud or swears. It can go both ways with Santi. He leaves the sliding door slightly ajar, to be able to hear if he's called in for a nightmare or a glass of water.

"Holà mamabicho. [Hi cocksucker]"

Santi's laugh is so loud he knows he was right to step outside. "¡Hijueputa! [Son of a bitch] How's life? How do you feel about having a roommate for, let's say, a month or two?"

"¡Coño! ¡Eres rico, ve a un hotel! [Fuck! You're rich, go to a hotel!]"

"But what fun would it be? Plus, I want to hang out with my best friend, and my niece when she's home. I need her to love me more than all her other uncles, and I fear she has forgotten me."

"She most certainly has, and I want to keep it that way." Frankie knows Pope can read between the lines, he'll actually be happy to have him in the house.

"Think of it this way. I can babysit! That way you can go out, find a girl and be less mopey and grumpy."

"Bicho [Dick], I'm neither."

"Well, I heard you had a new employee, sorry, 'colleague', a smart and pretty one, right your type."

"How did you–" But he doesn't finish his sentence, knowing he walked right into that trap.

"Ha ha! You are not denying it!" The triumph in his voice makes Frankie want to hang up.

"Fuck you, Pope," He says, defeated, his hand wiping his face.

"Don't worry, Will told me you mentioned someone new at work, and that he noticed a subtle body language that made him suspicious. And I just wanted to test my theory."

"Yeah, well, nothing's happened, and nothing is going to happen. I didn't make a good first impression, and I doubt she's into stupid single dads."

"Damn, Fish, you aren't the best at flirting, but that might be the worst first impression ever," Pope murmurs after hearing all about it.

"Yeah, I know."

"Don't worry, I'll be here to give you dating tips."

"I don't need your tips. Let me remind you of your dating history: the STD, the angry husband, the time you almost got arrested for–"

"OK, OK, you made your point." Pope begrudgingly says. "I should be here in about 3 weeks, would that work for you?"

"Of course, I'll have the bedroom ready for you." There is a lull, and then Frankie adds. "Me da gusto verte, mano. [I'm happy to see you, man]"

"A mí también, parce. Me da mucho gusto volver a casa. [Me too, man. I'm really happy to come back home]"

Spanish translation: Mamabicho: motherfucker (literally cocksucker), Puerto Rican (source) Hijueputa: the short version of “hijo de puta": "son of a bitch", Colombian (source) Coño: Fuck/Damn, Puerto Rican, (source) Bicho: Dick, Puerto Rican, (source)

The bakery Frankie and reader meet in is inspired after a real bakery in Tampa La Segunda Bakery and Cafe

Green and gold?

Or maybe red with light blue; that could be a statement…

Although blue, brown, and white have always been staples together. 

But it was a Christmas Gala. The Manhattan Heirloom stupid fucking Benefit. And it was on Christmas Day, so rather, maybe red, white, and green were the way to go. But you seriously did not want to look like a Christmas tree your first event out—

“I’m sorry, you spent how much?”

You shrugged your shoulders, staring at your reflection in the three mirrors that surrounded you. They were all huge and caught every angle of you, and they especially showed you the most important part: the shocked face of the man sitting behind you.

Why you invited Joel, you didn’t know. It was your first gut reaction. He wanted to support you—you were drunk enough to sleep well, but not enough to forget his promise—so you took him on it.

You turned fast on the little circle stage, twisting your legs and cocking your head to the side. “I said: two thousand for a dress wasn’t anything crazy. At least, when I was constantly going to these sorts of things.”

Joel looked baffled, sitting stiff against the leather of the viewing couch. 

He gaped like a fish on land, “Sorry, didn’t quite hear you the first time. Repeat?”

“It’s a whole look, Joel. I don’t have much of anything. I need actual good heels that’ll last me; I need a bag, I need jewelry. A whole wardrobe refresh, at this point. I only—seriously—have work clothes and some normal shirts.”

“I just ain’t used to it, that’s all. You’re payin’ more than my electricity bill in a whole outfit. For one night.”

You arched an eyebrow at him, “It’s the New York City elites, baby, how else am I supposed to show up?”

The nickname ‘baby’ had truly been a slip of the tongue. But you saw in that moment the effect it had on him. His eyes widened, mouth slightly parting, before it all melted into one, goopy, happy look on his face. Any shock he had toward your spending habits promptly melted away as he leaned his head closer to you. 

“You’re right, what am I talkin’ ‘bout?” He nodded along with his words.

“Do not just start agreeing with me because I slipped up.”

“No, no. Never. I always give you hell for everythin’.” Joel’s said in a low chuckle, his fingers now playing with the threads of the seats. You watched his index and middle fingers trace up and down, clearly seeing that he was lost in his own world. When you zoned in on him, you saw how his glasses had slightly slipped from the perched position he had them in. Instead, now they were sliding over the hard bump of his nose. 

Instinctively wanting to clean him up, you stepped off the little stage and silently padded to him. He saw you and gaped, but you ignored him and stood between his knees. He blinked at the sight of your finger, focusing on it as it pushed his glasses up. You couldn’t help yourself, though, now fidgeting with stray pieces of hair and even finding melted snow on the collar of his jacket. You wiped that away.

Joel made a deep noise in your chest over your fussing, “I don’t look good ‘nough? Sorry, threw some stuff on right when you called.”

“What?” You blinked yourself out of your gaze, fingers grazing the side of his neck, where you paused, “No, you look fine. Just was seeing… seeing if you need a new wardrobe for this trip.”

“Me? What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

You shook your head and laughed. “It’s just not New York-winter-proof." 

Joel glanced down at the jacket, flannel, jeans, and boots he had on. His eyebrows furrowed completely in thought, “I ain’t that cold.”

“I was wearing a button-up, a blazer, and a fur-lined jacket, and I was still freezing getting here. I don’t know how you even managed to step outside to get into the car.”

“I’m just—”

“You’re not built for the cold. The heat, more likely.”

“I was gonna say the extremes.”

“Well, you aren’t. And I will annoy you the entire ambulance ride to the hospital if you get frostbite.” Your Birkin lay right by his side, which you had carelessly thrown to the side, but he was the one who fixed it to stand upright. “Michelle’s designer works well with guys; I’ve seen a couple of his works. We’ll get you some things.”

“Um, that ain’t why we’re goin’.” Joel instantly deflected, “If this is such an important event, then we should focus on you, not me.”

“I have the entire space cleared out for my appointment. I’ll use my time and money to my will, guests included, too.”

“I’m serious, you don’t gotta—”

“So you have a suit.”

Joel blinked, “Huh?”

You nodded your head toward the glass windows to the snowy city outside, “In your backpack that you lugged over here. You have the suit from Dallas that fits you perfectly just sitting there waiting to be used, right?”

“I see what you're doin’ here.”

“Do you, or do you not?”

He lifted his head, meeting your gaze with the same intensity. He always met you at your level, always gave you a challenge. 

And he also made it really easy to win.

“No… no, I don’t.”

“Exactly, and the dress code doesn’t really allow for… ordinary wear.” You played with his collar to emphasize. 

Joel tilted his head, a smirk sliding across his lips, “I thought you loved my clothes. Last time I checked, there’s been many times where it’s been me in my clothes and you in nothin’ but—”

“Shush, shush!” You smothered your hand over his mouth, keeping whatever very inappropriate thing that he had in his head. “We’re in a public space. With cameras.”

“Like Tommy’s office.” The words came muffled through your palm.

“You’re being very difficult on purpose, aren’t you?”

You felt his hands graze over the back of your thighs. Even though you were in your dress slacks, his skin was hot, and you could feel it through the fabric. He clicked his tongue innocently, “I’m just tryin’ to be different.”

“With what, you’re flirting?”

“Is it workin’?”

“Oh you—”

Bam!

The interesting thing about this room wasn’t the abnormal amount of colors that seemed to work, or the twisting furniture that made abstract shapes, like the orange couch Joel was pressing himself harder into, suddenly very interested in the things surrounding him. 

No, it was the way it all worked. Michelle wasn’t the type of woman who enjoyed constant chatter in her ear. So, when she recommended this place, you knew it was catered to her tastes. Simple research taught you that her wardrobe stylist simply studied her clients’ fashion sense over the years and curated a handful of outfits. All without meeting face to face.

This city brought the strangest people together. 

With your hand on your heart, you watched as three long racks of clothes were wheeled in, each containing three dresses. Heels lay just underneath each dress on the bottom rack, along with a small card. They all came to be parked right next to the small stage, and each assistant stood still after they finished their job.

“All of these dresses are fit to match you, given your tastes,” The first assistant said, his voice professional. “If anything else is needed—different sizing, different accessories, different shoes—please direct yourself to the buzzer near the door.”

You nodded, inching toward the racks. “Thank you, I will.”

As quickly as all three came, they all left. Silence was all that was left as the doors clicked shut behind them. 

“We’re glad they ain’t nosy. Now that would’ve been bad.”

You turned to him, huffing, “That’s the first thing you have to say?”

“Better than what I was gonna actually say.”

You muttered, ‘idiot’, rolling your eyes as you went back to the racks. Your fingers grazed over the expensive fabrics, eyeing all the expensive beadings and colors. No one dress was the same, each with its own unique cut and neckline, with the only similar characteristic being that they were all floor-length. 

You brought each one to your wrist, seeing how the colors would match you. Overdoing it and making yourself stick out wasn’t what you wanted, but you also didn’t want to feel like a piece of unnoticeable furniture.

The first dress slipped off the hanger; a red piece with thin straps, exposing your shoulders completely. You were sure you saw this on a runway during the spring. It’s fabric glowed in the low light of the stage as you brought it over, leaving its heel behind. 

On the stage, it felt like everything else slowed down around you, as if you were the sole focus of everything. The spotlights naturally tilted toward you, casting the rest of the room in a darker view despite the rare breach of sunlight outside. 

After leaving the dress on one of the nearby hooks, you used your now freed hands to flip the clasp of your heels and shake them off to clatter onto the floor. You quickly made do with the button and fly of your dress pants. They came off swiftly and were placed into the growing pile 

You rubbed your hands over your thighs, shivering at the A/C and the bareness of your skin. You tilted your head behind you, keeping your eyes on your figure. “Joel, if you go into my bag, there are some files from work. Could you pull them out for me?”

There was no response.

“It should be black. A Birkin—do you even know what that looks like?”

Another beat of silence.

Losing your patience, you turned your head around quickly, with an amused look on your face. “Excuse me? Earth to—”

Your words died in your throat when you saw the look on his face, because all you were greeted with was an expression of pure awe. Joel had his lips slightly parted, and not even the shadows from his glasses and the lack of light could hide how dark his eyes were. 

They were perfectly still, not flickering like they normally would. They were trained onto one spot, on your back and near your thighs…

Your hands quickly went to cover yourself the best you could. A furious flush crawled up your neck and cheeks. “Joel Miller, get your eyes off my ass right now!” 

Like he was snapped out of a daze, Joel blinked and looked straight into your eyes. A matching blush grew over his face, making him completely pink. “I didn’t look!”

“Liar!”

“You were askin’ me to find somethin’ in your bag, and I was—” He turned suddenly to fumble with your Brikin, “—I was just lookin’ for it.”

“Please, spare me the theatrics. You're making this worse for yourself."

Joel shook his head, hands managing all the beige files without a noticeable shake—though you were sure there was one—and held them up, “I didn’t mean to, I swear.”

“Don’t act all chaste now.” You looked back over to the mirrors and started undoing the buttons of your blouse. “We’ve done too many things together to be shy now.”

“That’s—that is true—but still! I ain’t ‘posed to just look at you like that. I’m sorry.” 

Ever the chivalrous knight. You slipped your top off and stood there, almost completely naked. “If it’ll ease your conscience, Joel, you can make it up to me by helping me go through those papers.”

He looked happy to be moving away from that topic of discussion, “What, these?” He held them up, then flipped them open, “There’re all… profiles.”

“Yep.” You confirmed, undoing the zipper of the dress and slipping it off the hanger, “There should be… around three or four.”

“There are. Even color-coordinated, too.”

“Good. Emma did her job nicely, then.” You started putting the dress on. You could hear the flip of a file being open, “Those are the guys that work with Michelle. They were clients of her ex, Jason Delaroche. But after a huge divorce lawsuit where she won everything he had built—the company, the clients, a shit ton of money—they became hers.”

“And that’s the asshole that accused you of sleeping with him when you threatened to expose him?”

“The one and the same.”

Joel went quiet for a second, and you were sure he was thanking every lucky four-leaf clover, star, and penny that Jason was reduced to nothing.”

“How much did she win?”

“Millions. Close to a billion, really, if you look at the property and company values.”

“Deserved, but Jesus Christ, that's an expensive marriage.”

“They come from old money,” As carefully as you could, you slipped one strap over your shoulder then the next. Through careful maneuvering, you flicked off the clasps of your bra and escaped its confines, throwing it with the rest. “And money marries money.”

“Not millions.”

“Especially millions. Keep it from the regular  folk.” You turned to him, smoothing out your dress to make sure it sat perfectly on you. “But talking about those two does nothing good for my mood. Here, how do I look?”

When you looked at Joel, hands on your hips, you expected him to do a lot of things. Mention how things didn’t look right or how the next dress would look. You were sure he had experience; after all, he had a teenager.

But all he could do was stare, open-mouthed, as the papers in the file slid down toward the floor because he wasn’t paying attention to them. No, he was completely enraptured by you. Everything about you. All your curves and edges. All your virtues and flaws.

For a while, it was like that until you started crumbling a bit, looking away. “You know, if you hate it, you don’t have to think about the reasons; you can just say it.”

“I never said I hated it.” Joel suddenly had the words to speak, “It’s just… you look…”

You waited, but he seemed to get lost again. You supplemented words, “Too bold? Too scandalous? Too much? Too little?”

“Too perfect. You look too damn perfect, sweetheart.”

You couldn’t help the flush that flooded your face. “That’s… that’s not—” 

“But it’s true, ain’t it?”

“I was going to say that doesn’t help.” You placed a hand on your cheek, lying through your teeth so he didn’t know how much his words affected you and built you up. You turned back to the mirrors, critically looking over your appearance. “I don’t know, it just doesn’t give me anything. It’s just… red.”

“Then it don’t work.” He said plainly. You saw him through the reflection, looking back at the file. You groaned and started removing the dress. You listened as he continued: “So we got… Prescott Ellsworth. Sorry, who the fuck names their kid like this?”

“Probably after some ancestor,” You covered your chest as the dress came off, using only one hand to put it back onto the hanger and find a new one. You picked up a dark blue—almost black—asymmetrical-neckline dress with intricate gems woven through it. 

When you got back onto the stage to put on the dress, Joel was still reading. “Says here he owns a real estate company.”

“He was just a kid last time I saw him, a kid of that older generation.” You sighed as you pulled up the dress and tried to jog your brain for any memories. “But now he owns it all and is now united with his fellow ego strokers, building their money… oh, and their mutual hate for me.”

“Hate you?”

You wince, “Might have blackmailed him with his secret, second family. Especially his secret daughter.”

“What?! Second family?! Secret daughter?! You didn’t.”

“Oh, and I’ve done worse to others.” You snapped the one strap of this dress on, smoothing it out before turning to Joel, “Let’s just say he’s just one out of the many in the elite society whose toes I stepped on.”

You expected judgment from him. Telling Joel about what people could do to get what they wanted was one thing; showing him actual examples of you doing so was another. Would he look away? Would he call you sick?

Would he no longer see you for who you were?

You were still the woman who loved him, who cared for him, who stayed by his side. You were still the woman who had worn his shirts as if they were her own and danced around the living room with him. You were still the little girl who had stuck her tongue out at him when he said something, a grin on her face.

Would he—

“I’m sure he deserved it.” Joel spread his thighs a bit wider as if to get close to you, despite how far he was. “Says here that Michelle wanted to buy some property from him to start buildin’ warehouses down near Jersey.”

“Any more specifics?”

“Been multiple meetin’s ‘tween their lawyers, but he ain’t headin’ any closer to a deal. Here it says—and I quote—’Seller has been delayin’ or holdin’ out on finalizin’ the transaction; now, therefore, in consideration of the mutual promises and covenants contained.’

“Hmm, so she wants us to do more dirty work.” You scoffed, “Has to be some sort of punishment.”

“You sayin’ it ain’t worth it.”

“No, it is.” Sighing, you tilted your head side to side to crack it. “We could seriously increase production, but I don’t like how I have the heavy work.”

“It’ll all work it ‘cause you’re doin’ it. You could blackmail all the men you want, hell, even threaten ‘em.” Joel lifted his head and studied you once again, looking over your curves. “I like this dress too. Reminds me of the sky.”

You blinked at how fast he moved on from the idea of you being cruel, like it was a matter of fact that he had accepted. You then cleared your throat, trying to find something smart, “The sky's light blue. Well, more grey than anything.”

“Night sky.” Joel corrected himself. “You look like the night sky, with all the stars in it.”

Had they turned up the heater in this fitting room? You fanned your face. “Thanks, but we don’t get stars in New York. Too much light pollution.”

He could see you deflecting so hard because, for some reason, compliments from him made you dizzy. You could absorb anyone else’s praises and build yourself up. You knew how you looked, how you presented yourself. A certain level of confidence came with the line of work you did.

But with Joel, it was all thrown out the window, lit on fire, and then dumped into the Hudson River to drift off, lost forever. 

No man had ever made you feel that way.

“Then y’look like the city lights. Yeah… that’s better.” He tilted his head as if he remembered the sight. “I remember, after you left durin’ my first night here, I sat and watched the city as long as I could. I see that now, and that dress.”

You smiled softly, looking down at your dress. You could see what he did; the glittering lights, the reflective colors of different signs that blared a million ads. “I can see that. Especially during New Year's. God, I know you’ve watched the ball drop, Joel, but seeing the city in full blast is something else.”

“Oh, I saw it all,” Joel reminisced with you, “I remember havin’ Sarah on one knee as the countdown would be on the TV.”

“Yeah, there’s the TV, but the noise, the lights, the confetti.” You gushed, “You just had to be there. I mean, I hated New Year's because I would be trying to study, but after ‘92, when I started helping out, I love New Year's more than anything.”

“Wait, helped out?” He asked, “You helped out with… New Year's.”

Your eyes sparkled, and you rushed off the stage to come stand right before him, the best you could. “I only had the best job in the whole world, Joel Miller. I was a confetti engineer.”

Joel went silent as you smiled so wide.

“A what?”

“You know, the people who toss the confetti, and when the New Year hits, it all comes down?” When he didn’t respond, you groaned, “It’s a volunteer job? The ‘confetti blizzard’, by Treb Heining? How do you think all the confetti gets over all those people each year?”

“That... was you?”

“Me and about a hundred volunteers.” You plopped yourself to sit beside him, crossing your ankles. “When I was a senior in college, my friend gave up her spot for this new volunteering thing—something about her cat—and I went. I stood alone at one of the corner buildings, and twenty seconds before the drop, we tossed. When it hit… it landed perfectly over everyone when they screamed ‘happy new year!’. Ever since then, it’s been my one good deed.”

“That’s amazin’.” Joel said earnestly. “Seriously, that’s incredible. I had no idea people actually threw that stuff, and you did it every year?” 

“Without fail, except this year, of course.”

To that, a frown fell over his features. “You didn’t sign up?”

“What time, Joel?” You suddenly laughed dryly. “I left New York with no intention of coming back, then came back and worked. Plus, applications ended in January, when I was dealing with the scandal. As much as Mr. Heining knows me, he has a program to run, and I’m not about to ruin it by my tardiness.

“There was just this quietness to it all.” You looked down at your bare feet. “I could be having the worst times of my life, and none of it would matter because it was me, that box of confetti, and the millions of people I was going to shock with my confetti. Stupid, right?”

You could picture every version of you in those nine out of thirteen years standing on the edge, looking down at the crowd and the chants of numbers. All by yourself, where no one knew who you were and nothing mattered except yourself. The peace it brought you was otherworldly.

“Never, it ain’t ever stupid,” Joel placed a hand on yours, bringing your attention to his face, “We all got our strange little thin’s that click. I’m sorry that you ain’t able to go this year.”

“It's fine, really,” You said, despite the ache in your heart. You put a smile on your face. “At least I get to spend this New Year's with you. Our first in… in almost fourteen years, and I want it to be special and good, for both of us.”

There was no response from him for a little bit. You could see him thinking. Before you could tell him not to act on whatever he was rummaging around in that head of his, he was already patting your hand and standing. 

You called his name, but he didn’t respond. Joel walked over to the racks of dresses, running his hands over the fabrics. He stopped right before a green dress, dark and sultry and everything you would wear with confidence then, but now? Now you weren’t sure.

“Christmas is soon.” Joe murmured, turning to you, “We missed almost fourteen years of that, too.”

“We did, but we have the gala. Trust me, we’ll be too tired to do anything until the afternoon the day after.”

He hummed, as if he accepted that as fact. “You should try this one.”

“Why, you like me in green?”

“I do. It’s always been your color.”

❛ ━━━━･❪ 🎕 ❫ ･━━━━ ❜

You considered yourself a grateful woman that Joel liked to be silent.

He was more of a listener than a talker. That much had been apparent since the day you met him, and it was a quality that you enjoyed a lot. Of course, it had its own downsides—it made it harder for him to open up, made it harder to see what was going on, but now, he had transformed it into an ear that would take what you gave him.

However, it was even better because when you had nothing to say, he was content to keep the silence.

There was no radio playing in the car, only your mind running through every name Joel had been muttering to help himself remember while he fussed with his bowtie. You eventually got tired of hearing and seeing him struggle, and did his tie for him while you corrected him. 

Now, in the car, Joel was tapping his hand on his thigh, playing some imaginary beat in his head. He looked crisp in his suit—he made sure to iron it twice, even though it arrived in mint condition—and trimmed his beard and hair himself. He told you something about “betraying his barber, and that the kid would feel bad ‘bout it.”

You didn’t understand; even your dad and Uncle Ray had said the same thing many a time. Whoever the ‘kid’ was, though, probably wouldn’t be too mad. From the way you looked to your right through your peripherals, you could tell he did perfectly fine.

That neck of his was cleaned up, and he had ditched the glasses, so now he was squinting a bit more at the signs that passed by. He was following the dress code perfectly: a black suit with a black bow tie and a White Calla Lily boutonniere pinned to his left lapel. 

His entire get-up was a very lucky adventure. Joel had been busy all day, barely making it back to your penthouse to start getting ready for the gala. You had lifted your eyebrow when you asked him where he had been, but he could only give you a flushed smile.

Whatever, let him enjoy the city.

You had that green dress, this time with accessories exactly as you would wear it. A long necklace threaded around your neck, with a stone in the center, placed perfectly just above where your breasts rose. Your brown fur shawl clung to your arms, and you wrapped it tighter despite the car’s heater. And of course, the gold heels Joel picked out lay on your feet.

You did your makeup as you used to, to make yourself more recognizable. Though you knew being recognized wouldn’t be an issue. 

Physically, you were prepared the best you could.

Mentally…

“You were right.”

You turned your head to Joel, your earrings grazing the side of your neck. With your full attention on him, he wrung his hands together. 

“You were right,” He repeated, clearing his throat this time, “All the accessories really pull everythin’ together. You look…”

“I look like…?”

“…stunnin’.” Joel decided, with a small smile on his face, “You look stunnin’.”

For the first time since getting into the car, a smile slid over your lips. Then, the flower on his chest caught your eye. It was slightly crooked and leaning away.

Frowning, you leaned over and worked to fix it up. Joel kept his back unnaturally straight as you worked, keeping his eyes on your face the whole time. 

“Now, you need to remember what I told you,” You lectured as you smoothed down the long white petal. “You stay by my side no matter what. I’m sure that someone’s going to try to pull you into some pointless conversation and talk your ear off.”

“That wouldn’t be too bad, would it?”

You glared at him.

“Sorry, bad timin’ with the joke.”

“As I was saying,” Patting his chest and sliding back to your seat, you crossed your legs over each other, “A lot of business talk is going to be going down. Say one wrong thing, and they’ll latch onto it and try to summarize you like that.”

“And it’ll reflect badly on you.”

Your eyes softened, “Don’t think just about me. Think about how it’ll be perceived on Miller & Miller. Your integrity as a businessman is at risk here if you slip up, so just… stick by me, alright?”

“I’ll stay by you. I’m here for you, nothin’ else.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, playing with the ring on your finger, squeezing your eyes shut. “Good. Good.”

Then, you felt something place itself gently over your own. You gripped Joel’s hand hard. His thumb ran over your knuckles in soothing ovals, going back to being silent.

The creaks of the car seats were louder than the engine as he slid toward you. His body was now in the middle seat, close to your body. Yet, you didn’t feel a bit overwhelmed. Instead, you felt like your breath came a bit easier.

You opened your eyes, and he was staring straight into your eyes. Concern flitted over every color in those terribly dark eyes of his, and you couldn’t help but lean into him. You almost placed your head on his shoulder, but to keep your hair and makeup perfect, you didn’t.

“I’ve been sorta strict on you when we were researching about… well, everything. Actually, I’ve been on your ass a lot. I wanna say—”

“If you say the words ‘I’m sorry’, I’mma throw myself outta the car so I don’t have to hear it.”

You laughed and bumped his shoulder. “Asshole.”

“I’m serious. This is your whole livelihood. I'd better get it right.” He said in his serious voice. It still made you laugh, though, and it made him raise an eyebrow. “You don’t know how many hours I’ve got on that computer of yours. Hell, if you asked me one of those rich bastards’ birthplaces and date, I’d get it on the first try.”

“It seems like you're gunning for my assistant’s position. I’ll have to tell Emma she has competition.”

“I’ll moonshine. Work in at a site with Tommy, then take a quick four-hour flight to plan your meetin’ schedule.”

“If you do, you'd better do it right. I’m a strict woman.”

“I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

Just then, the car came to a stop, halting not at a light but joining a long line of stagnant cars that circled the block. Workers directed the traffic, running up and down along the sides of all the cars. There were even physical dividers in orange cones that separated this line from the usual New York traffic. You craned your head to look, but the divider separating the back and the front lowered itself.

He told you that the car was approaching the venue entrance and that it was quicker than usual. You nodded and said thank you, waiting in silence as the divider made its way back up.

It was only when you knew for sure that the front was completely sealed off that you whipped your head to Joel.

“There’s still so much I have to tell you about. I don’t know how much I can tell you in the time we have, but I’ll try my best.” You cleared your throat. “As soon as you get out of the car, there’s gonna be a lot of flashing lights. I’m used to them, but you might need to cover your eyes. Also, don’t stop for any reason. Our goal is to get inside, so ignore any question that the paparazzi might throw at you, no matter how much they make you angry.”

“I’m assumin’ they ain’t gonna be nice.”

“It ranges. Sometimes it’s about where I got my outfit or any business news surrounding me, like any recent big deals, purchases, meetings, that sort of stuff. Worse, and most likely, they’ll start asking if I’ve whored myself around anywhere recently or if we’re fucking, thanks to my wonderful scandal.”

Despite your warning, you saw Joel’s nostrils flare. “No manners in any of ‘em.”

You pointed a finger just beneath his nose, but kept your other hand still so his could remain on yours, “See? You’re doing it right now. I know you’ll be able to handle any questions thrown your way, but the second they start on me—”

“‘Course I’ll get fuckin’ pissed,” Joel grumbled, “They ain’t got a right to ask you if we’re together like that.”

“They don’t, but is that gonna stop them? No, it won’t. So we might as well let it roll off our backs.”

“It’ll be hard to say what you’ll say afterwards when it’s just you and me.”

“Please, you know how many times I’ve cursed out paparazzi when I’m home?” You waved your hand like it was no big deal. “It’s their job to get on your nerves. The bigger the reaction, the bigger the paycheck. These are people who’re trying to make rent. They just have a terrible way of going at it that makes it unforgivable. So the best you can do is not give them a piece of your mind.”

“That’s… a very mature way to think ‘bout it.”

“It’s the truth, isn’t it?”

Joel frowned, clearly in his own head for a second about some memory you couldn’t see. You didn’t need access. You just squeezed his hand and brought him out of it. 

And in that moment, it felt like just you and him. No gala, no Michelle, no old scary ex-colleagues of yours you used to terrorize. If you could get out of this line and the whole event, you’d demand your driver to take you and Joel to the nearest McDonald's and sit there eating as much as you could in this dress.

Reality checked you soon, with the car taking a slow right as it turned the corner. Through the tinted windows, you could see the glittering lights and decorations lining Cipriani Wall Street. The large Greek-like pillars were covered in white and red lights, and winter decorations lined the closed-off sidewalk.

You could see the large crowd of paparazzi on both sides of the white carpet, shouting and waving their expensive cameras for a chance. That would be you and Joel, very soon.

“You’re sweaty,” Joel commented, as the car rolled closer and closer.

“I’m sorry, should I dump my hands into the snow to cool them off?”

“Your jokes ain’t really doin’ a good job of deflectin’.”

Curse him.

You shook your head hard, trying to keep your eyes on the goal, but it didn’t work.

You didn’t want to be shamed for something you didn’t even do, yet couldn’t change because you were helping Michelle divorce her sick husband. You didn’t want the old standards of who you were to be something you could never reach.

You wanted—

“Speak.” Joel urged, holding your hand tighter, “Y’know better than anyone else once we exit this car, we can’t let a single thin’ slip. So you either crack now and lemme help you fix it, or never.”

That was all it took.

You pressed the side of your head into his shoulder, damning your hair and look. Your confession was soft and so unnaturally vulnerable it hurt:

"It just feels like everyone's already watching. Like they know I don't belong here."

There was a moment of heavy silence as the car waited, next in line to be opened for the carpet and the whole world to see. For them all to see how nervous and sweaty your palms were, and how you just somehow couldn’t grasp that old mask you wore.

But Joel did know what to do.

He leaned in, breath brushing your ear, voice low enough to melt straight into your skin.

"They are watchin’," he whispered. "But only ‘cause of how damn good you look."

You couldn’t even respond because the car started, then immediately halted, and the door was wrenched open, light spilling through. 

The noise of the crowd was all-consuming, clouding up your senses and making it hard to focus. But Joel remained that light for you to keep your eyes on, like being at the doctor's and they flash that light in your face, making it the only thing one could look at.

He—smoother than you ever saw him—slipped out the door. Joel paid no mind to any of the words being thrown his way, which seemed to grow louder at the sight of his face. He simply turned his attention to holding the door open for you, taking the job of the man who originally cracked open the whole moment.

His head peeked down at you, and his secret Miller smile just for you appeared. 

You looked down; his palm was turned upright and reached for you.

You had a choice, you realized.

Your first option would be to be scared, slip into the mindset that was plaguing you worse than your breakup. That you were broken by this world you had struggled through and by these people who owed you their livelihoods. You could turn your head, shake it, and cower in the corner, and let the rats consume you. It would prove you weren’t fit.

Your other option would be to be cruel, slip into the mindset you once were, and torch these fucking pigs for daring to underestimate you. To show that their rumors and words meant nothing in the face of your determination. You would reclaim the prestige and life you once dominated, with a smile on your lips. Hurt without remorse.

There was a third option, though. 

That option was the one that had shown up recently. Not when Joel came to New York, but when you went to Austin. A realization that had evaded you, just like how you evaded your family.

Just like how you evaded Joel.

This option was simpler: be who you were with compassion that they didn’t deserve. Be the untouchable one, and don’t give them the satisfaction of being their angry monster. That’s all those rich people wanted, was it? Someone they could hire to do all their publicity and image without blinking twice at. 

Now, you could be more. Now, you could take Joel’s hand and set your own path that didn’t rely on any of them. Not with fear or hate.

No, with love.

When your fingers slipped into Joel’s hand and curled as you lifted yourself out of the car, your mind was set.

When your heels hit solid carpet, and you were standing tall beside Joel, and he looked at you with utter devotion, your heart was set.

When you pressed yourself against Joel’s side and leaned close to keep warm from the cold as the cameras flickered and snapped and popped, your soul was set. 

You needed no more affirmations; this was where you were meant to be.

Yet, Joel—the man he was—brushed his lips to your left ear once more with soft words that made you hum.

"You do belon’. Not just here, sweetheart. With me. Right by my side."

That was all you needed. 

Joel held out his arm, and you looped it through. Together, you walked down the carpet. Somehow, Joel knew the perfect pace; not too fast so that no one would notice either of you was here, but not too slow that the lights would soon overwhelm. 

Moreover, he wasn’t flinching or covering his eyes in the face of the lights. He kept his face completely neutral, almost uninterested in the whole thing. You matched his look, a tall stone wall of unmoving force that didn’t give anything to the barrage of questions now being screamed at you.

The crowd and the cameras zoomed in on you, forgetting the people before you who were waving and trying to get as many pictures as possible. All of a sudden, people smushed and pushed each other to try to get close to you, as much as the physical boundary would let them, and the security guards. 

“Picture, please, ma’am!”

“Holy fucking shit, that dress—”

“Who’s that man beside her?!”

“Tell us your name, sir! Tell us about—”

“Can you please tell us about your stance on the Heyward v. Delaroche case and your involvement?!”

“Those heels have to be Prada.”

“Is that a new tattoo?!”

“Where?!”

“On her back, look! Get the camera closer, zoom in!”

 “Is it true you slept with Mr. Delaroche?!”

“Over here, give us a smile!”

“Is this your boyfriend?!”

Despite the loudness of it all, you could hear Joel’s displeasure. It was a hard rumble that came from his chest, but at least he was internalizing it rather than yelling as he would’ve. He helped you up the stairs, making sure your dress looked good from the back. 

He was so respectful, so kind, in all the ways a companion at these types of events should be. 

At the top of the stairs, you felt your dress snag on your heel. You softly cursed, but Joel rushed to help. You unlooped your arm, and he bent down slightly to fix it. He muttered something about making you feel perfect, and it made you smile.

So when he came back up to lead you through the doors, you wordlessly took his hand and placed it on the small of your back.

Joel’s hand was familiar and large, and placed so low that his pinky grazed the very top of your ass. He felt it in an instant, his palm freezing up, but he didn’t show it in his body, walking you through the large glass doors without a word. 

The noises became muffled in the grand entryway, replaced by music already and the chatter of staff members. The clicking of your heels became more apparent, and so did Joel’s grumblings. 

“Asshats.” He cursed. You rolled your eyes and walked a bit to the left, away from the main herd and from prying eyes. “Ain’t got no decorum.”

“Hey, what did I say?” You turned your head to him.

“Don’t make a scene, which I didn’t. And you said keep complaints ‘til after the paparazzi were gone.”

“Which you did.” You lifted your hand and patted his cheek. “Good boy.”

He went so pink so fast you swore steam blew from the top of his head. “Me?”

“Is there another Joel Miller here with his hand touching my ass?”

“No, I’m the only one.” 

You fake-gasped as you both strided through another pair of doors, entering a darker hallway that pushed all the guests into one funnel toward what was the main ballroom. “Well, I’m certainly glad about that.”

Joel laughed at that, ducking his head to shake off your words. But you knew exactly where you had landed in that brain of his, and you were more than happy to stay there and dig yourself a bit deeper.

Soon, the light from the other end illuminated, threatening to reveal much grander than anything you were sure Joel had ever seen. But there were no words you could say to him quick enough that would get your point across.

All you could do was walk in and hope he would find his footing fast enough. 

The music got louder and louder until you were spit out into the main hall. The ceiling arched and was decorated to the brim with glittering lights that twinkled, lighting up the wide floor below. Circular tables were spaced out sparsely, clearly not meant to be sat at, but were still an option. 

Extravagant, small stages were built, dotting around. Performers stood on top, dazzling everyone in the low light. Contortionists, a brass quartet, and more all tried their hardest to provide the entertainment necessary, but it felt more like background noise than anything. 

You moved toward the edge of the room and stopped. You took a moment to breathe it all in, especially all the people that had shown up. 

The same flowers on Joel’s chest were pinned onto every man attending, while all the women wore extravagant, floor-length gowns. Every piece of clothing—regardless of gender—was picked and styled for very particular reasons. It represented the cream of the crop, the one percent of America who lounged around and did nothing but spend money. 

Joel didn’t find it amusing either. He looked around, spotting the lack of food, the staff rushing around to serve alcohol and finger foods, and the laughs echoing from little groups clustered together. “This… this is it?”

“This is it.”

He frowned when a staff member offered you and him champagne—though you both took it with thanks. He looked at the bubbling liquid, swirling it. “It’s just a bunch of rich folk peacockin’ ‘round.”

“I knew you weren’t going to be impressed.”

“You thought I would hate it.”

“Not hate it, exactly.” You shook your head side to side slightly, “More like… neutral. It’s just all too superficial.”

“Yeah, that’s the word I was thinkin’ of. Superficial.” Joel rolled the word around in his mouth, “It’s just, why’re there people twistin’ and turnin’ on stages? That can’t be good on anyone’s back.”

You watched as a woman bent herself in half to reach for her feet. “I’ve always found all the decorations—live or not—a bit over the top. One time, I went to a gala like this, and they had people breathing fire through hoops.”

“Huh, they’re that bored at home?”

“I mean, if you were sitting on seven hundred fifty million dollars since the day you were born, you kinda end up doing everything by the time you're twenty-five. Soon, other people’s talents become your entertainment.”

“Why wouldn’t they just… disappear? Lord knows no one would hear from me ‘cept my family and live out the rest of my days in peace.”

“Greed, Joel.” You shrugged, because it was a fact, “Runs this entire world.”

“But you're immune.” He sipped his champagne and cringed at the taste.

“Because of how I grew up. One income, basically one parental figure, had to fight for everything I had. It made me—”

“Stick out.”

“Exactly. I stuck out like a sore thumb. All these people, they grew up together, like me, you, and Tommy. They went to the same school, the same college, the same events, the same meetings, the same everything. They knew each other's faces, or at least knew their names. I didn’t have any of that.”

“New kid on the block stirrin’ up trouble.” Joel mused. “Now, where have I heard that ‘fore?”

“Oh, shut up.” You hissed back, but there was no attack in it, only humor that he and you knew. “I’m already stirring shit up. Look.”

As you predicted, eyes were already latched onto you and Joel, especially you. Eyes went wide like saucers, then ran to glance at the person next to them, who looked the same. Then, they whispered a couple of words to each other before scurrying to the next person to tell them.

Joel’s chest was back to rumbling, “You’d think a place so wealthy would teach all these folk some manners.”

“Gossip runs this place. Probably the more interesting parts of it all. I’ve never really been keen on it, but it helps my reputation.”

“Y’think this’ll help your reputation?” Joel said while watching a group of people loudly gasp—way too dramatically, you might add—then turned all their heads toward you.

“The myth, more like it.” You shrugged, unfazed. “Now, ignore them; we aren’t here for petty things like this.”

“Yes.” He completely abandoned the attention they were throwing toward you both, looking down at you and only you. 

“Do you at least remember everything I taught you?”

‘’Course I do.” Joel took the initiative to walk, taking you with him as you both circled wide around the whole room, “Scan ‘fore you do anythin’, see who’s here, who’s clickin’ with who—”

“Good. We’re already at a disadvantage because I’m not in any loops about gossip. I don’t know how anyone’s relationship has changed in the past seven months, so I have nothing to use.”

Joel hummed, taking in your words. You both slowly strided, keeping your heads turned towards the middle where everyone was gathering. You could see his brain cataloging who was with whom and how they were moving. Is this how it felt when your mentors would look at you, fresh from college and gunning harder than anyone they had ever seen before?

You leaned in close, whispering in his ear: “What do you see, baby?”

He didn’t hesitate. “I see maybe… three groups.”

You knew exactly which groups he saw—you had found them as soon as you walked in, thanks to practice—but you wanted to see if he got them right. “Tell me.”

“Well, first you got the boys.”

You laughed, “Not men?”

“No, boys. You can tell ‘cause they’re nervous and clean-shaven, ‘cause their beards are patchy. They’re all wanderin’ ‘round, talkin’ to just ‘bout everyone. I think some of ‘em are even tryin’ to converse with the staff.”

“They’re the young ones. Fresh out of college, probably the first time daddy’s told them to try and go do something on their own. So, they get desperate and think the staff will help them, which they won’t. They would rather help their own than some pompous rich boy getting his feet wet for the first time. Next.”

Joel moved around a table, “The women.”

“What about them?”

“Well, all the age groups are talkin’ to each other, and they’re the only ones sittin’ down, touchin’ each other’s jewelry and laughin’. Is there really anythin’ funny?”

“Oh, it’s a performance. They care for their family, Joel. Their kids and husbands, sisters and brothers and their parents. Maybe two friends here and there, but other than that, they’re in it for themselves. And they have the luxury of being stay-at-home wives who have their husband’s card in the palm of their hand.”

“But they have influence.”

You tilted your head to the side, looking back at Joel. “You think that.”

“I know it. My mama ran our house. Sure, my dad made every cent and bought everything, and she never worked a day in her life, but her word was the final say. She said that she wanted a new couch; it was hers the next day, even if he had to go all the way to Dallas. She wanted to try somethin’ new for dinner; he bought it.”

“It’s sorta like that. Your dad and mama actually loved each other. A lot of these marriages—especially the older ones—are pressured by family. And men of this level never give up their command for a woman, even if they’re married. But you know what they do have over the guys?”

“What?”

“Attention, Joel. These guys love attention. You know how many times I’ve found them cheating on their wives with prostitutes or strippers because those women gave them a listening ear—even though they don’t give a fuck ninety-nine percent of the time and are just trying to get their money. So, if a woman gives her husband just enough to keep him by her side… then she has his mind in her hands.”

Joel mused, “Play the system ‘fore it plays ‘em.”

“Exactly. See? You’re a natural.”

“More like a wallflower. I ain’t gonna be able to talk to any of these people once we actually start movin’.”

“I’m not expecting you to. That’s my job. Plus, being a wallflower's good. I could never be one because I put myself right in the center right out of the gate. In all my thirteen years, I had eyes on me constantly. It has its perks, but being off to the side is good too.”

“Guess my skills’ll have some worth here,” Joel muttered.

“They will. You already are.” You reassured. You looked toward the last group. “Now, tell me about them.”

Joel found the people you were looking toward and spoke easily:

“A bunch of older men. Starts in the mid-thirties ‘til death. They’re all near the middle just conversin’, just like the ladies, but they’re drinkin’ way too much already. Seriously, why’re some of ‘em kinda red already…”

“Oh, those are the younger ones. The older men know not to touch alcohol tonight. After all, the best deals are made sober.” You stopped walking and placed your glass on a nearby table, leaving it there. “Good job. You found all the people whom I was also looking for.”

“So I did good?”

“Oh baby…” You cooed, “...you did so good.”

The praise clearly made him happy. That look in his eyes that got his smile looking droopy appeared, though he cleared his throat and played it off, “Well, I’m glad I’m catchin’ on.”

“Then, are you ready for the next thing?”

Joel, with some newfound courage, nodded. He placed his champagne glass down right next to yours and stood up straighter. “What is it? Are we lookin’ out for the people Michelle mentioned, or we headin’ to find Michelle? You said she was gonna be here—”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his naivety, grabbing the cuff of his sleeve, walking straight to the group of older men. “Now, we’re going straight in.”

“‘Cuse me?”

“Told you I jumped straight in when I started. Gotta do it one more time.”

“Wait, I look like a fool, lemme fix my tie—”

But you completely forwent whatever words he would have stumbled out to stop you both. Your heels clicked, and his shoes thudded against the freshly polished floor as you got closer and closer. You eventually slowed to catch your breath and calm your heart, still making your way.

You saw when they noticed you. One of the men who was facing toward the circle on the other end met your eyes, and they widened and darted around as if he had seen a ghost. He quickly turned and whispered something to the man next to him, which caused him to choke on his champagne. 

Before anyone else could ask him if he was okay, you came to a stop right outside the circle. “Have room for two more?” You said as warmly as you could. 

Almost immediately, all the heads turned to look at you. There was a range of shock displayed on all of their faces. Some of them didn’t try to hide their disdain, while others looked downright worried. 

The oldest man in the group—a retired tycoon owner who had moved to New Jersey years ago—nodded, “I knew something was missing from these events for the past few months. It was strange not having you. And a Merry Christmas to you.”

“I missed it too much to stay away,” You lied. “And thank you.”

“And who's this with you?” 

“This,” You held out your hand to display the awkward man next to you, “Is Joel Miller.”

“Hey.” Was all he could muster up. He shook the hands of all the men in the circle. “As she said, I’m Joel.”

“Different accent… something southern…”

“Texan.”

“Ah!” Ellsworth suddenly spoke up. He was the one who had looked at you like you were some cockroach on the heel of his shoe. “Makes sense. Y’got cattle or somethin’, cowboy?”

They all laughed like imitating his accent was funny. Joel didn’t find it a bit amusing. “No. I run a construction company.”

“Oh, blue collar?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, we thank you for your service. Someone has to do all the dirty work no one else wants to,” He smiled wide to Joel as if they were friends. “What are you even doing on the East Coast? Trying to expand business? See, I could help you with that. I own a lot—”

“I’m just here for support, that's all.”

“Well, I’m sure she doesn’t need it. Do you even know who she is?” Another man asked, “Only the most dangerous snake in this godforsaken city! Shame that they ran you out.”

“No one ran me out.” You clasped your hands together in front of you. “I simply found a new position elsewhere, and then found a new position here.”

“Underneath Michelle, of all people. Say, tell us how that’s going.” Ellsworth jabbed, “Worked for her husband, now with her? Seems like that family’s got you on a leash.”

You ignored Joel’s huff of barely contained violence and spoke, “I go where the money is.”

“Right. Always been money, money, money with you.” Clearly, this child of a man couldn’t let go of the fact that you blackmailed him. And from the fact that he had the gall to speak to you and Joel like this was a clear sign he never told anyone anything about his second family, “And that’s probably why you're here? Michelle’s dirty work.”

“You know about her wanting to buy land from you.”

“Of course I do! I was there in the meetings.” A round of laughter.

“But you’ve been holding out on her. And she’s not the most patient woman.”

“Oh, you don’t have to tell me twice." He gave a noncommittal shrug. “But it’s clear she doesn’t have any leverage. I’m waiting for something to come up to give me more benefits—stocks, cuts, percentages—but she just won’t budge. And she doesn’t have… have anything on me, you see.”

He looked at you then. Studied your face and darted down to your mouth to see if you would say something. 

But you had nothing.

You had no information on Ellsworth or anything recent that had happened to him in the past year. Not only did you have nothing, but you had also completely fallen flat, with all these men staring you down like they expected something big to come out of your mouth. The real thing that would seal the deal.

But you had nothing.

Your mouth was dry, and your mind was going a million miles. You already threatened him with his second family years ago. Probably everyone knows and just doesn’t talk about it. So it wasn’t any real leverage.

And he could see that. When he noticed you hadn’t started talking, a wicked grin placed itself over his lips, as if he had won. “Well, I didn’t know you’d come so unprepared. And I’m sure this is boring for your guest here; he probably doesn’t understand a thing we’re talking about. It’s unlike you to be so… unprepared.”

He was right; it was unlike you. You hadn’t done enough. The hours of research with Emma, the time spent with Joel in your living room looking through documents only you could understand, the sleepless nights turning in bed, wondering what everyone would think when they saw you couldn’t do it.

You were failing. You were failing at the one thing you were good at. 

They all moved on with their conversation, forgetting you. They, forgetting you, of all people. 

This is why you shouldn’t have taken a break. This is why you should’ve worked harder and not been distracted. 

You should have learned more. Dug in deeper. Not been so foolish in thinking that he could do what you did with thirteen years of no break. 

Being the man he was, Joel’s hand ran up and down your spine in a comforting manner. It soothed your running mind, but it didn’t help with the hurt. 

It was only when he leaned in close and whispered in your ear that you stopped pining for yourself and tried to act normal. “What do you want me to do?”

What could he do? 

Honest, you shook your head, “I don’t know.”

His eyes widened for a fraction of a second. It was rare for Joel to see you so stuck and hopeless. You never wanted him to see you like this. It hurt you more than you liked to admit. You couldn’t even meet his eyes, even when he tilted his head to get you to look at him.

“Alright.” He said, a look of determination washing over him. You blinked at how surely he said that. He patted your back, stepping back. “Do your job here. I gotta do somethin’.”

Your voice locked in your throat, “Where are you going?”

“You’ll see,” he murmured against the lobe of your ear. With that, he didn’t even excuse himself, leaving the group and you behind. You almost called his name, but he had already turned away into the crowd. 

You felt alone, standing in this group, more than you ever had. 

One of the men noticed Joel’s absence in a second, “Where did your guest go?”

“He had to take care of something.” Your mask slipped into place. “He’ll be back soon.”

“Scared him off, did we? Not our intent, of course, but what’s the phrase? If you can’t handle the heat… get out of the kitchen!” 

“Joel is finding more uses of his time.” Your defenses went high. “He’s merely… doing what he has to.”

“He’s different. Completely not the man I’d expect you’d bring around.”

You didn’t let your voice hesitate. “What does that mean?”

“Well, you surround yourself with men who have a certain… taste to them. Expensive, work-oriented. Someone who matched you. This guy, well, he doesn’t really demonstrate that.” They gave this advice like they were your big brothers taking care of you.

“You don’t even know him. And that’s perfectly fine.”

“Maybe he’s a charity case. You ashamed of that?” One of them asked.

You kept quiet.

“Or he’s running something shady down South.” Another one chuckled. 

“You’re not telling us cause he probably has some sort of criminal record.” Said a third. 

You frowned.

“Oh shit, he does!” Ellsworth spoke up. “What did he do—”

“Nothing.” You snarled, temper flaring, “He’s a perfectly normal man. He lives a good, normal life. He works every day, pays his taxes and bills on time. He takes care of his family like his life depends on it and doesn’t complain. A complete contrast to all of you.”

“Excuse me—?!”

“Doesn’t matter how much money he makes, because he doesn’t have to buy his manners. He knows how to treat people correctly. He knows how to treat—” You stop before you finish that sentence with ‘me’. “I’m saying, if we had a competition on who was more masculine, he would win every time.”

“A man who clearly rents a suit?”

“A man who clearly has better taste than you, Ellsworth.” You looked him up and down in annoyance. “Can’t buy taste, either.”

And awkward overtook the group. No one had anything to say, and you didn’t want them to. Whatever they had to say couldn’t make you change how you viewed them; disgusting pigs who still thought of you as having had an affair with a married man even though it was disproved. 

Not that it mattered.

To them, you could only be boxed and kept on display, just like all these performers. 

All of the men moved to turn to each other, talking to each other instead of targeting you. You stood there, an outsider in this group, not mixed in like you used to. Then again, were you ever a part of anything?

Bored of the conversation, you glanced over the crowd, searching for anything else interesting. Some of the contortionists were now holding hands as they balanced on one another. Servers passed around a new round of drinks for all the guests.

Same gig as—

You nearly choked on your spit, but managed to cover it up. It was a mere squeak in your throat, yet it felt like a lot when you zoomed into the group of women you and Joel had pointed at earlier. 

The same group Joel was being surrounded by.

And worse of all, one of them was smiling at him. 

They were all smiling at him. 

All of their lips were turned upwards for Joel, placed onto his strong forearms, and they all hung onto his every word as they all talked. Joel always had that proper boy charm that played every older woman like a fiddle. You’d heard his tales from Lorraine about how he was such a good boy at church and that her older friends loved him. 

Was it terrible that you couldn’t hear whatever these men were talking about? You couldn’t function in the slightest as you zoned in on him. It consumed all your attention. 

“I mean, I haven’t heard from Delaroche in months. Heard he’s living his life on one of his foreign properties.”

“He’s got enough money to last him three lifetimes, even after the divorce. Right?” Ellsworth directed it to you. “You spent a lot of time traveling with him to all those international meetings. He left no expenses.”

“Hm.” You kept it short, craning your neck to keep track of Joel. “He’s rich.”

“We all know that.” Someone else piped up—you didn’t really care for who it was, “But it seems like his ex hasn’t done anything really fancy. No hosting as she used to.”

“She always knew how to manage a party.”

“I could kill for a party hosted by Michelle. Though it seems like those days are over since she decided to wear the big girl pants.”

“I’m sure you want to go to a party of hers, wouldn’t you?” Another man asked you.

What you wanted? You wanted to get into the gossip that you clearly hadn’t been in touch with for the past few months and use it to your advantage. You wanted to leave, more so. You wanted to find Michelle—wherever she was sleuthing around—and tell her you were done for the night.

You also wanted to get all those women away from Joel.

Possessive and greedy were not words that could be used to describe you. You could pull back and let people be. You didn’t owe anyone, and you didn’t control what happened.

Yet…

Yet when they all looked at him like he built this whole city by himself, and he smiled the whole time, it twisted something in your heart. What was he saying? You wanted to know and laugh about it, too. What story was he recounting that made all of those ladies talk a bit faster?

You licked your teeth, feeling each ridge to keep yourself in check. 

You had to be here, doing your job.

“She’s tuning you out,” One of the men said, “Too focused on her boy toy.”

They all laughed like it was funny. It wasn’t. “Where’d you find him anyway. Jesus, he’s way too… rough to be here.”

“He’s a man.” You said shortly, crossing your arms and digging your nails into your arms as a lady—closer to your age—tilted her head toward him, “Takes one to know one.”

“Can’t blame you for having something fun to take home and dance around with. God knows we’ve all indulged in a bit.”

You snapped your head toward the man speaking. A nobody, as you had expected. “He’s my companion to this event.”

“So… your boyfriend?”

When you didn’t respond fast enough—because in this situation, who was Joel? Your ex? Your complicated man, whom you still had your heart on? Your childhood family friend? Your greatest annoyance? Your greatest love?—they all clapped as if you had accomplished something great. Someone even clapped you on the shoulder.

“Finally!”

“Someone to keep you steady.”

“More like someone to keep her homey.”

Again, laughter. 

You didn’t pay any mind to their clearly backwards way of thinking. Joel didn’t make you any more of a woman than you already were. He made you more whole, just as you did him. He didn’t make you ‘wife material’ or managed to ‘get you inside the home’. In fact, it was the opposite.

He pushed you. Made you bigger and better and all the things all these men wished they were. He had his own struggles, and despite it all, he could make anyone feel empowered to be better. You know you’ve been affected by it the most.

He was encouraging.

He was kind.

He was—

He was being touched.

You felt your heart in your throat as you watched a lady with her hand on his bicep, and from the way she flexed her nails, she was clearly feeling his muscles.

Your muscles.

Your arm.

Yours.

Without missing a beat, and not even an ‘excuse me’ or any reason as to why you were leaving, you left the circle. You ignored all the calls of your name or whatever short joke they would make at your expense. 

The distance between you and Joel became shorter and shorter as you made your way to him, rounding the table to not be in his line of sight. Of course, the ladies noticed you first, eyes slightly popping and glancing between you and Joel. 

“And I thank you for that,” Joel said to the woman next to him, who also hadn’t noticed you. She was an older, probably around Lorraine’s age. “I’m sure your peach cobbler is amazin’, and I’d love to try it.”

“Oh, a sweetheart you are!” She gushed over him, making your eye twitch. “You know, my daughter has always loved cowboys. You don’t happen to be… single? She likes them a bit older, too, so I’m sure.”

“I’m not—”

“He doesn’t have the time for dating,  I fear,” You spoke up, sliding your way on Joel’s right opposite the woman on his left. Joel jumped slightly at your voice, but still, letting you loop your hand through the crook of his elbow, “He’s too busy helping me tonight.”

All the women studied both you and Joel, the not-so-causal way that you pressed your side against his, and you darted your eyes around the group. You couldn’t have been making it more obvious. 

“Well, it’s good having you around here. You usually hang out with all our men, so it’s a shock to see you here.” The same lady who had been mentioning her daughter cocked her head to the side. 

“It’s all business with them.”

“I thought business was all you were for?” Another woman piped up.

“All the time off has changed you, then. You must have been… reflecting on yourself while you’ve been wherever you were.” 

“I would be too if I had been caught with Mr. Delaroche. The case was everywhere! In fact, it has only now calmed down.” 

All their voices overlapped with each other, probing and digging at your disposition. You didn’t let it faze you, despite the burn that you felt while they coolly jabbed at you. 

You had never been invited to the women's circles. From day one, you put yourself exactly where the money and men were, and that, in turn, isolated you from the rest of them. Except Michelle, but you were sure that if you hadn’t been her college roommate, she would have treated you as these women had. 

Maybe that was your own fault. Maybe you should’ve tried to be their friends, but you had seen the way they looked and whispered behind your back.

The nobody from nowhere. The outlier. 

So, you learned to grow without having any other woman to lean on. No friends, no stay-overs at your expensive houses. You had been alone while they all glowed in each other’s friendships. 

There was never you and them, only you.

“I’ve come back to work with Michelle.” You explained.

They all gasped as if they didn’t know, “Mr. Delaroche’s ex?! What a bold… woman you are.”

It didn’t fly past your head, the other ‘w’ word they wanted to use.

“Business is business. Plus, I’ve missed the city. It’s a shame that it’s Christmas today and I can’t see the lights.”

“They are actually beautiful this year. You really should’ve put some effort into going to see them.”

“Next year, then. Right, Joel?” You turned to the man next to you, expecting that smily look on his face.

You didn’t see that.

Instead, it was this dark, mulling look that he only gave off when he was deep inside his head. He was glaring at every woman before him, even though they hadn’t noticed. You knew in an instant he hadn’t appreciated anything they had been saying about you. He clearly caught on to the way they were putting you down. 

Before you could say something to tell him not to say something, you felt his arm—the very one you were holding—slipping down your spine and resting on the small of your back once more. 

“I will.” Joel nodded, looking down at you. “I’ll come every year for you, sweetheart.”

You swallowed, but that nickname furrowed the brows on all their faces. 

“‘Sweetheart’? Are you two—”

“Together?” He said it so casually you nearly choked. You coughed while he continued, “Yeah. I’m blessed by the Lord Himself that I’ve been graced by a woman like her.”

“Joel, what are you—”

“Known each other since we were babies, you see. So I know a lot ‘bout her character, somethin’ none of you do. She’s very kind and welcomin’, and you’d know it if you weren’t so cold. Shame, and I was havin’ such a nice conversation with all you lovely ladies.”

Silence came over the group, thick and awkward. You could only gawk at Joel, a man who looked completely different than the one at S.U.C.K.I.T. who was fist-fighting at the first slight against you. He had kept himself in line in every possible way, keeping this night perfect so that you could work. 

It was like he was protecting you while also letting you breathe and mingle with everyone properly. 

He looked so damn sexy doing it.

“Well, it doesn’t seem like you have that close of a relationship,” The older lady on his left said. “There was no mention of you ever having a man, or boyfriend, or husband.”

“I ain’t a public person,” Joel rebutted.

“She is. Makes sense she showed the world she’s taken for—”

Now, you know you have better control. You had the skill of breathing through a situation with a level head. You had honed it for so long. 

You were better than petty rage.

You were better than all their mean remarks about you.

You were—

Oh, what the hell. 

You moved quicker than you anticipated possible in this dress and shawl, placing your hand on Joel’s cheek to tilt him toward you. It was very obvious he was going to snap back on your behalf, but you didn’t need to.

Actions did speak louder than words. 

You didn’t expect him to move so easily, but he did. Maybe he was following the natural course of ducking his head and tilting his head as he always did, but he made an unnatural noise as you pressed your lips onto his. It was only heard between you both, but you relished it.

You kept your eyes shut the whole time and moved your lips against his. For a second, he didn’t move, and you were afraid he had forgotten how to kiss you. But when he suddenly moved his body to face you and open his mouth to kiss you back, you found out he hadn’t. 

Rather, he had been very patient and was now letting go of that chain that held him by the neck. That gentleman side of him that these ladies got to know, the one who always regarded you with care and loved moved aside for the hungry man he was hiding. 

It showed how that hand on your back moved to your neck, holding your jaw so tight that you go. It squeezed just enough for you to gasp when you pulled back, but it gave him room to lay two short pecks on your bottom lip. 

He was the one who straightened his back, tearing his mouth from yours. He looked completely and utterly fulfilled. A throat was cleared, and that was your sign to turn and face the chorus of faces who expressed they understood your intent now.

“We’ve known each other for a long time.” You enforced, “Any more proof might be too much for pure eyes.”

They all started muttering to each other, unable to keep it to themselves. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Joel swiping at his bottom lip, where your lipstick had stained his lip. 

You would’ve cleaned him up, but it seemed he was more intent on smearing it, and you swore if you looked close enough, you saw the pink of his tongue dart out and lick at his bottom lip. 

“If you’ll excuse us.” Taking a step back, you took Joel’s hand. You slowly inched farther and farther away from the group. “We have to go find Michelle herself. She’ll have my head, you know how she is.”

With that, you made your way from that group of sharks into neutral waters. Joel was silent behind you, and despite your curiosity, you didn’t turn to see if he was staring at you. You were sure he was.

You scanned the room, keeping your eyes peeled over the crowd for any sign of privacy. You abruptly stopped in front of one of the lonelier round tables, and Joel bumped straight into your back, and you squeaked. 

He placed both his hands on your hips, stabilizing both you and him. Of course, he kept it professional and didn’t press his chest to your back—no matter how much you wanted him to—but couldn’t resist leaning down and whispering into your ear.

“Great way gettin’ ‘em off you. Should do it more often.”

You scoffed, placing a hand on his to weakly push him off. “Please, the only reason I did it was that I was tired of their poking. I already have the media breathing down my neck; I don’t need these ladies doing the same.”

“That’s the only reason?”

You turned to him, “Excuse me?”

“That’s the only reason you—” He tapped his lips to translate wordlessly “—me? Not that I mind, but I feel like there was more—”

“There wasn’t more.” You said smoothly. “The only thing extra was that I wanted you by my side again. I felt like you were gone for far too long.”

“‘Cause I was helpin’.”

You cocked your head to the side. “Huh?”

“Clearly, I ain’t welcome with the gentleman club over there.” He nodded his head to the older men who had gone to the bar. “So I went where I was. Those ladies make it really easy to learn gossip when you ask ‘bout their weekend plans.”

You had your mouth slightly open in awe, “Attention. You gave them attention.”

“I did. And it seems like they got the other side of the story we didn’t.”

“What—”

“See, you told me that he had a secret daughter. Well, I managed to talk to some of the older ladies ‘bout their youngest kids—’round twelve to fourteen—and said I was enrollin’ my daughter into a school near here. They gushed over my single daddy act—”

“Actor, are we?”

“—and told me all these names. Fancy schools I could never afford. Then, they mention this one school: Waterfront Montessori. Said it used to be real good until all this new soon-to-be construction happenin’. The kids complain all the time ‘bout the noise already and how it affects their tests.”

“Construction…”

“A bunch of warehouses, apparently.”

Your eyes widened, “Michelle’s warehouses.”

“But ‘course; ain’t ‘nough reason to bar Michelle from settlin’ down there. So I asked who would send their kids there now? They told me all the names of the rich parents droppin’ off their kids. Then they get to whisperin’ ‘bout the kids—a bit of nasty work—and talked ‘bout your Mister Ellsworth.

“One of the ladies mentioned how they’re next-door neighbors, and her husband works for Ellsworth. Now, her husband gets to work at ten, an hour ‘fore his boss. Yet Ellsworth is leavin’ at eight sharp, with his work suit and briefcase, so he ain’t goin’ to the gym or somethin’ else.”

You blinked, trying to connect the dots.

Ellsworth leaving his home early…

Potential construction near a school in New Jersey…

His still—very-secret—second family… it has been six years since that event where you confronted him about said family—

You gasped, “His daughter! His daughter goes to that school.”

Joel blinked like he hadn’t gotten it, as if he hadn’t had all the puzzle pieces. “Huh?”

“Agreed, whose daughter goes to what school?”

You whipped your head around and found where that voice came from. 

Michelle stood a bit away from you, wearing a red dress with long sleeves and a slit up to her mid-thigh. She looked over you in amusement and eventually looked over to Joel. She studied him openly, not sparing any decorum to keep to herself. 

Unfortunately, Joel had decided to do the same. He looked at her with barely contained disdain, inching ever so closer to you so that you were forced to place a hand on his chest to give yourself some semblance of space. Michelle smiled at the sight. 

“You must be Joel.” She finally said, holding out her hand, “My name is—”

“I know who you are.” Joel’s voice was cold and uncaring, and he didn’t meet her handshake.

It was only a second or two where her hand was outstretched, but it was enough for her to twitch her eye and drop her hand. She flexed her fingers. “That’s great. I hope you’ve been enjoying our city. I could always get you into all the best possible seats for all the sights. Except the Knicks. Love them, but trust me, it won’t be a fun game.”

Joel didn’t laugh or make any response. You cleared your throat. “Michelle, I have something for you.”

“That’s good. The way I hadn’t seen you throughout this gala, I thought you were avoiding me.”

You didn’t deny it. “It’s about Ellsworth.”

“Well, I hoped so. It’s what you're here for.”

“He has a daughter.”

“Common knowledge. She’s only six years old, so I have no idea why that would be important.”

“No, she has another daughter. Actually, it’s a whole second family, but that’s beside the point—”

“Hold on—”

You didn’t stop for her, “And she’s probably in private school. After some digging done by Joel, we figured out that she goes to one right next to the property you want to build on. Ellsworth doesn’t want to give you the property because it would disturb his daughter's learning.”

There was a beat of Michelle processing this information. You watched as she frowned, pinching her lips together to a thin line that slightly smeared her lipstick. Even her fingers had started tapping together in thought.

You glanced up at Joel, but he hadn’t moved away from you at all. He kept his gaze on Michelle, as if watching her like she was the one who might pounce and jump.

Michele seemed to make her decision when she started nodding.

“And you know for sure he’s cheating.”

“It’s the whole reason why he worked with your ex. I blackmailed him with it a long time ago.” You waited for a moment to see what she would say, but a seemingly dark cloud covered her features. You continued: “I’ll go talk to him now. Joel, would you wait with—”

“No, I will,” Michelle said in a still voice, like she was accepting a cold, hard fact. 

You frowned, “It’s my job.”

“You did your job, didn’t you?” She flashed her eyes up to you, “You mingled, got your information, and gave it to me. I can close this deal out on my own.”

“And take credit for our work? I think not—”

“Of, for fuck’s sake, I’ll write your names down on the official documents! How about that?”

“What would you have us do then? Go home? It’s only been an hour and a half.”

“Do you want to stay any longer?” She looked up at Joel, “Do you?”

Joel didn’t respond again, but he did look down at you with a glimmer of questioning in his eyes. He was giving you the choice. You could stay, and let yourself be made a fool. You could stay and take this opportunity for yourself and be who you were.

But you could also go home. With Joel, the penthouse had become a sort of solace for you. It warmed you up now, walking out of the elevator and seeing him there. It was even better going in and out with him. 

You wanted that more than you wanted to be powerful., 

You wanted to feel peace.

With a sigh, pressing a hand to the back of your neck, you squeezed the skin there. “And why are you doing this?”

She scoffed like it was obvious. Michelle turned around, heels clicking as she walked away, but not before she looked over her shoulder and stared at you dead in the face.

“Men like Jason don’t get to hide from the consequences, do they?”

You went quiet, then shrugged your fur shawl higher over your arms to keep from going cold. “They don’t.”

And with that, she left you as quickly as she came, with a smile and a strut to her next victim. Joel let out a heavy breath, slightly dropping his head closer to you. 

“I don’t like her…” He murmured, close to your hair. 

“I barely do either.” You agreed, 

“…but I agree with her.” He took your hand in his, thumb running over the veins in your wrist, “Hated how those men talked ‘bout you, and I felt like shit for not sayin’ ‘nough. Those ladies, too. Glad she’s gonna give ‘em hell.”

You smiled, tired and slightly heavy-eyed, “She’ll do what she wants, whatever will ease her mind.”

“What do you want to do?” Joel asked, looking at you, checking over your face, “We can stay. We can go. We can go eat, and I’ll pay for both of us—”

“Home.” You shamelessly placed your forehead on the very edge of his shoulder, “I want to go home.”

“Then we’ll go home.”

That was his promise. And he held onto it well. 

Joel moved to guide you out toward the main doors, not bothering to hide his very clear display of affection as he kept his hand between your shoulder blades, touching the edge of your tattoo. He was right beside you as you both went through the tables, keeping up with your strides with no issue. 

No one was leaving this early. Usually, it ended with a couple of drunk elites stumbling out the doors toward one a.m. as their PR and teams tried to keep them as hidden as possible. Yet, you and Joel stepped out into the cold air completely sober and clear-headed, perhaps a bit tired and in need of some warmth. 

On cue, the car pulled up to the end of the carpet, and Joel opened the door for you before you could even say a word. You got inside, letting him shut the door behind you as he rounded the car and got in. 

The drive was quick and silent. Joel didn’t talk at all, content with keeping his eyes shut. It was clear that his social battery had been drained completely, as you could see from the conversation with Michelle. You didn’t expect him to do anything more; he had already done so much.

You placed your head against the window, watching the city pass by. You watched the dazzling light charm you in every way, swaying you as it always had. You had countless memories of leaving the conference, meetings, events, or just the office so late that the lights were the main focus of your mind. 

Eventually, your building came into sight. And of course, before you could get out yourself, Joel was already out and jogging to your side. How he didn’t slip on black ice, you had no clue. But he got you out, and together, you went inside and through the lobby.

The night staff were tiredly speaking to each other, but tilted their heads up to see who was coming in. When they realized it was you and Joel, they all whispered to each other and pointed to the computer screen. 

You paid no mind and headed to your elevator and got inside quickly. Joel pressed all the right buttons, and the doors slid shut and lifted you both. Free from prying eyes, you slipped your shawl off your arms, folding it to hold in your hands.

The elevator door slid open with a ding, and your freshly cleaned penthouse greeted you. You’d never been happier to see this place. You contained your own as you tossed your shawl mindlessly over one of your lone chairs as soon as you got inside. 

Joel stayed silent behind you, his shadow disappearing as the elevator’s doors slid shut, cutting off the yellow glow. The darkness of the freezing night took over.

When you turned your head to look at Joel, you saw his hands were in his pockets and were fidgeting inside them, like he was debating whether to say whatever was on his mind.

“You seemed mad,” Joel decided to say casually.

“What?”

“‘Bout those ladies talkin’ to me.”

“Still on this, are you?” You shook your head, walking further from him. “You’re reading too much into this.”

“Oh, I can read ya like a book, sweetheart. Know your tells, too.”

“Like what?”

“Like how your eye twitches when you’re tryin’ not to think too hard. Or when you clench your teeth real hard, I’m ‘fraid you might crack somethin’. My personal favorite—you speak in a sickly sweet voice. Don’t match you at all.”

“Amazing, great, wonderful, you know so much about me. What’s the purpose of even pointing those out?”

“Just want you to admit it.”

You turned around, eyes blazing. “Admit what?”

“That you hated it when those ladies talked to me.”

“They weren’t just talking to you.” You laughed, leaning on your couch for support as you slipped your right heel off, “They had their hands all over you. And I didn’t want you to leave my side for too long, and bringing you back was the right thing to do, and—”

“So you were jealous.”

You froze. Your eyes were lowered to the floor, but you could feel all his smile. You slowly lifted your head and saw he had his thumbs hooked through the belt loops, and you were right; his face was bright despite the dark living room. 

You scoffed, playing dumb. Your voice went high and fake. “No, I wasn’t. As you said, you were just… conversing.”

“Is that right, sweetheart?”

“Yes, it is.”

“So you wouldn’t have minded if one of those women touched my hand.”

Your jaw hurt from how hard you clenched it. “Of course not.”

“Not even if she played with this flower?” He tapped over his left lapel at the white flower. “One of ‘em even offered to fix it up.”

“Did they?” Your question was quick, and you hated how you felt your eye twitch.

Joel reveled in your sharp words. He leaned one side on the couch, using his thigh and hip to hold himself up. “Didn’t even get close to touchin’ your handy work. But ‘course, these are just hypotheticals. I wanted to ask though; how’d you feel when that lady asked if I was single?”

“You are single. Can’t shame her for asking.” 

There was every shame in asking.

“Really? So none of that ruffled your feathers?”

“I have better emotional control than you think, Joel. It’ll take a lot more than just baseless flirting to get me possessive over—”

“Not even if they placed a hand on my cheek—”

You suddenly rushed to him—only one heel on—and grabbed his collar. He made a pleased noise as he was brought to your face level, that goopy, stupid smile now back on his face.

“You’re getting some sick pleasure out of this, aren’t you?”

“I like seein’ you get all riled up.”

“You think you’re really funny.”

Joel hummed, glancing from your eyes to your lips in fast motions, “So you were mad.”

“God—if you want me to fucking say it… yes!” You hissed at him. “I hated how they looked at you, how they laughed at your jokes, how they—how they acted like you were they’re entertain. Like you were… theirs.”

“Y’know sweetheart, some would call this jealousy.”

“Fine, I’m jealous.” You pushed him away, sending him stumbling back. You crossed your arms over your chest and huffed, looking away. “Happy?”

Shaking his head, Joel found his footing quite easily. “And that’s why you kissed me.”

“And that’s why I kissed you,” You mirrored back, turning on your heel to unevenly stride away, putting that distance between you both, “Most of them are married anyway, so the only way to remind them to stay in their own lane was by claiming—”

“I liked it.”

You turned your entire body. Joel had been following you, keeping that space short so that you could never go too far. For every step you took, he took one to match yours. Soon, there was nowhere to go; the wall pressed firm against your back as Joel stalked closer and closer to you.

He had a curious look on his face, with a hint of pride and smugness that made all his handsome features turn upwards. He came to stand right in front of you, the tops of his shoes grazing your toes. His right hand came to cup the side of your neck, and his thumb tilted your head up so that you could only see him. 

You swore your pulse throbbed against his palm. You also swore he loved it.

“I liked it,” He repeated, softer this time, “‘Cause in the whole event, you only looked at me. You looked like you wanted to kill me, sure, but I think that was one of the few times durin’ this entire trip of mine that I was the sole object of your attention.”

“That’s a bit greedy of you, isn’t it?” You couldn’t help but press yourself into his hand. “I was just trying to do my job, and I couldn’t focus because I was too busy focused on you.”

“Hmm, but I ended up helpin’, did I? Old dog still got some tricks in him.”

A laugh burst through your chest.

You lifted your hand and threaded it through his hair. You could feel some sticky, dried-up gel, but it broke apart and smoothed out at the heat of your hand. “And thank you for that. I had no idea about anything circulating, and you found it all on your own.”

“Don’t give me too much credit. Still made you mad.”

“Yeah, well, now that I’m thinking about it…” You mused, “...it doesn’t affect me that much anymore.”

Joel blinked a couple of times, as you had shocked him. You saw a hint of poutiness quiver on his bottom lip, like he was disappointed. “It doesn’t?”

“You said it yourself, Joel Miller, you’ve been mine since we were kids. I got something over you no one else does.”

Oh, he got something out of this. The way he looked so happy and content being in your hands, he was a couple of words away from melting through your floor. You felt the way his hands shook as they tried to act normal.

“So why do I have to worry about what those ladies do to you? They can ask questions about you, but I know you the most. They can probe about your thoughts, but I plague you more than anyone.”

“Yes, you do sweetheart.”

“So what does make you?”

“Yours.” He said, crisp, “Only yours.”

You didn’t need words of your own to tell him what you had on him. Your skin did the talking, roaming over his shoulders, his biceps, his forearms. He shivered at the feel, but didn’t dare move.

You found yourself caressing that chest of his, moving up and down the tense and hard muscle you had gripped many a time. Sometimes, you dared to reach toward his navel, where you felt his hips jerk every so slightly. But you pulled away before he could get anything more.

Lastly, his back. It forced you to press yourself a bit against him, the swell of your chest against his. Joel lost all his decency then, looking straight down and smirking. You liked it when you lost that gentlemanly look of his. It felt much more raw and true, like his real feelings were less constricted. 

You reached underneath his suit jacket and dug your nails through his dress shirt. Your mouth was slightly agape, and so was his. How many times had you held onto his back as he pounded you into the mattress? Too many times, truly. So much so, you craved it.

Throughout all this, though, he didn’t break his control. His left hand didn’t move from the side of his body, while his right hand 

You eventually found your way back to his hands, intertwined both your fingers together, pulling them up. Tilting your head, you looked up at him with a small smile. 

“Must hurt,” Joel murmured, looking down toward your one heel still on.

You smiled, slipping your hands from his own and looping them over his neck, bringing both your chests flush together. “How are you going to help, then?”

Joel shook his head, laughing silently to himself. His now freed hand lowered itself to your side, and right by your knee, he pulled and bunched up the fabric of your dress, exposing more and more of your smooth calf, and even a sliver of your thigh.

Then—with a swift tug—he moved your whole leg to perch it on his hip. You held it there while he traced his fingers down your calf to your ankle. He kept eye contact with you the entire time as he unclasped the strap and shucked the whole heel off. It clattered onto the floor, the only noise echoing throughout your penthouse. 

“Like that.” He said with a soft smile. 

“A very helpful man, you are.” You shot back, but it had no bite. Instead, it was all thanks and appreciation, everything you knew he deserved.

Joel heard that in your tone and shook his head, “Gettin’ all soft, I see.”

“I feel like I can be soft around you.” You confessed, “My work is all deadlines and yelling and scheming, but with you it’s all so… simple. Like I can let myself be taken care of.”

“I love takin’ care of you.”

“I know. I miss this.”

“Do you?”

“I miss all of you. You’ve been here for me in… so many ways I’ve lost count.”

“It ain’t nothin’. I just want to support you no matter what. Just as you helped me a thousand times more”

“And thank you for that,” You expressed. You didn’t want him to think that you unappreciated him, or didn’t see how new this all was to him. Joel Miller wasn’t the type of man who could so casually throw himself into a new situation. Yet, he managed to and flourished all the while. “I know I’ve been so absorbed in my work, but I just got into this mindset, and I’ve worked so hard on building everything I own and have. But I don’t want you to feel like I don’t see all the good you’re doing for me. You’ve been here, coming to a new city, trying to fix us while I’ve been consumed by—”

“I’mma say this once, and once only,” Joel interrupted you before your thoughts could jerk tears from your eyes. He slowly placed your leg back down onto the floor so you could have a steady footing. “Never apologize for choosin’ your work.”

“What?” You looked up at him, dazed.

“You’ve built a powerful career. How many people can say they’ve accomplished what you have? I saw the way ‘em folk turned their heads to you, like you were the only thin’ in that room. And I am honored to be by that person. I’m honored I have the chance to love you.”

“And I’m honored to have you.”

“Don’t make this just ‘bout me.”

“No, I’m not.” You retorted, “It’s about us. We’ve changed so much, together and apart. But…”

“But?”

You leaned in closer, too close, “...but I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

That was something you would etch into your very soul if you could.

Joel tilted his head, slotting his nose close to your own. His breath fanned over your lips, and yours on his. You could see the freckles of color that gave his eyes so much dimension. The scar on his temple that was hiding underneath his strands of hair peeked through, lighter than his weathered skin; you knew all too well.

“I’d do anythin’ for you,” Joel confirmed in a low tone.

“You’ve done a lot of things for me. I’m not even sure anything could top this.”

It was like those words reset something in his brain, because Joel blinked once, then twice, then that flustered look—the one you knew so well—popped up. It completely took over whatever smugness or heavy heat that was just plaguing him. 

You couldn’t ask him what he was thinking because Joel suddenly stepped backwards, catching your wrist to take you wherever it was he wanted. You squeaked at the sudden force, nearly tripping over your discarded heels, and how fast he was moving. 

No matter what you asked him as you made your way through the living room and down the hallway toward his room, he gave you noncommittal answers. Even when you said you had to take off your makeup, he said that this would take priority.

Whatever that meant.

Joel’s room—or rather, one of your guest bedrooms—was completely lived in, to the point where you were sure he was probably living there for a while now. His backpack was limp and neatly folded on the side, the dresser drawers slightly open from use. The sheets had been made, but the wrinkles made it apparent he spent many hours wrapped warm against the snow.

He let go of you, leaving you to stand there awkwardly as he rushed over to his side table, pulling out his phone, flipping it open, and pressing buttons.

You frowned, “You left your phone here?”

“I wasn’t gonna be on it either way, so it was just dead weight.” He said casually, coming back to stand in front of you. “But that ain’t the point. You remember when we went out to try on those dresses at that fancy place?”

“I do.”

“Well, you mentioned that one college story—” The phone nearly slipped from his hands from how hard he was moving. You both reached for it, but Joel caught it and kept rambling, “—your confetti… throwin’ activity.”

“Being a confetti engineer?”

“Yes! That’s—that’s what they’re called.” He snapped his fingers.

You frowned, unaware of where he was taking any of this, “But, I mean—I would’ve loved to continue the tradition, but there’s no way. The applications start and end very early in the year.”

“But what if I told you we were in?”

It was your turn to dumbly blink at him, “Excuse me?”

Joel nodded, “Well, after you told me ‘bout it durin’ that fittin’ room day, I went straight onto your computer in your office and used my email to find… what was his name? Treb Heinin’. Anyway, I emailed him, and he responded pretty fast, and when I told him you were back in town, he asked for a meetin’, which was why I was late comin’ back here to get ready.”

The relaxation dawned on you, all at once.

“You got us into the confetti engineers this year…?”

“It was mostly your connection with the man, but I managed to get us two spots. He said you were a ‘staple’ and was sad you didn’t sign up for this year. See?” 

Joel handed you his phone, and sure enough, a text message between Heining lit up your face. They went back and forth, with the last text of Heining being what caught your eye:

[HEINING (CONFETTI MAN)]: And tell her that I’m more than happy to have her back. 

[HEINING (CONFETTI MAN)]: Location

[JOEL]: Thank you, I’ll make sure she hears it.

Your eyes shone, and you bit your bottom lip. “I can’t believe… I can’t believe you would do this for me.”

“I saw how happy you were when you talked ‘bout it. Wanted to continue your tradition… and maybe be by your side this year—oof!”

You didn’t let this soft, kind, gruff man go. You couldn’t. You wrapped him in the tightest possible hug, intent on squeezing all the air and good things out of him and inhaling it all. Tears blurred your vision and fell in streaks over your makeup, but you couldn’t care.

Nothing mattered other than being swung around the room, arms tightly wrapped around each other as Joel laughed in your ear. Even his phone landed on the bed because you couldn’t focus on holding it. The whole room spun, but that didn’t matter.

It only stopped when Joel’s breath went ragged, and you forcibly pulled yourself back, not wanting to exert him too much. Joel still didn’t let you go, keeping his hands on your elbow and the small of your bare back. He frowned at your tears, and you instantly shook your head, huffing out a laugh.

“This is a good laugh. God, Joel, you’re an incredible man, you know that?”

His ears went pink, “It’s nothin’ sweetheart. It’s just your Christmas gift.”

 “Christmas?”

“It’s still the holiday, last time I checked. I mean, we went to a Christmas gala.”

“I didn’t get anything for you!” Guilt flooded you instantly, “Oh, Joel, I’m so—”

“What did I say?” He shushed you, “No sayin’ sorry.”

“But I have to do something.” You pushed, wrapping your fingers over his biceps, “Tell me, what do you want? I can buy you anything and everything, just say the name.”

“I’m sure you can buy me anythin’.”

“I have a lot of money, I can get you whatever—”

“I don’t want anythin’ like that.”

“What do you want, then?”

Joel looked down at his shoes, then back up at you with a sudden shyness. Before you could reassure him that you wouldn’t judge him—your dad had once asked you for foot cream as a gift, so how weird could this get?—he blurted out the words that knocked you on the side of your head:

“I wanna sleep in the same bed as you.”

You didn’t have anything you could say to this man. Your brain went slightly silent as Joel stood before you, keeping his gaze locked into yours as he waited for your response.

The question was: what was the response?

You and him weren’t together, as much as that pained you. He’d been here for a couple of days, and he was already winning you back over. And you would be a liar if you said you didn’t miss him physically, too. 

Not just in the sexual sense—though that came with its own territory—but you missed the steadiness that was his body. You got a taste of it tonight; his hand on your back, your palms gliding over his suit, the only thing separating you too. He was solid and there, perfectly ready to jump into the deep pool that was you and him.

Joel seemed to be able to read your mind, because he clarified himself, “Not sex, ‘course. I don’t want sex—I didn’t do any of this to find a way into your pants, if that’s what you’re thinkin’. Please don’t be thinkin’ that—”

“Relax,” You soothed, a small laugh on your lips, “I don’t think you’re some weirdo, if that clears your conscience.”

“Good. That’s good. I just wanna be by your side tonight, just as I was at the party.”

“Then you’ll stay.”

“Then I’ll stay.”

You both went quiet for a moment, just looking deep into each other's eyes, until you both burst into short little bubbles of giggles. You weren’t even drunk, not in the slightest, but the thought of Joel Miller—a man who had seen and touched every single part of you—asking if he could sleep in your room felt silly.

Joel shook his head, breathlessly and softly laughing as he quickly made his way to his dresser and pulled out a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. Before he could start his way to his door, you took his hand, leading him out as if you were children stealing candy from Lorraine’s cookie jar. 

Together, you made your way back through the hallway and the living room, this time taking the winding stairs to your bedroom. You didn’t bother flicking any lights on, keeping that dark, hazy look that only snowy nights could conjure up. 

Dropping Joel’s hand and leaving him to slip into your closet, you casually threw over your shoulder that you were showering. He said, ‘‘Course’, and sat himself on the edge of the bed, slipping out of his suit jacket, careful not to crush the flower. He even took it out of where it was pinned and placed it right beside himself.

Your shower was quick and breezy, enough to take off your makeup and clean your hair. It left you with enough time to do what you usually did to take care of yourself before bed after a long event, like you used to: skincare, haircare, and even a couple of massaging movements over your shoulders to beat at the knots there.

Eventually, you pushed yourself back into your room, the hot steam floating out. You shivered against the cold, despite the long and baggy pajamas you had on. You carefully laid the dress down over your dresser, careful not to wrinkle it, while your bra, panties, and used towel went straight into the hamper. 

Grunting from the bed made you turn your head, and the sight was a familiar one. Joel was still—somehow—tugging at his tie. The thing looked awkward and way too tight. You shook your head in disbelief and came to stand between his thighs.

Without a word, you took over the job, helping him unloop and undo all your work. He could only stare up at you. 

“You can use my soaps,” You said to combat the silence.

“Are they the ones you use all the time? Or are they all new and fancy?”

Shaking your head, you snuck off his tie and let it hang from your fingers to take. “Same old, same old.”

That seemed to satisfy him, as he took the tie and stood up, passing close by with a smile on his face. He tossed the tie and suit jacket in with the rest of your dirty clothes, and quietly shut the door behind him. 

All that was left was you and the flower still on your comforter. You picked it up, its soft, white petals still firm and pure. You couldn’t help but stare down at it, turning your fingers over it and bringing it close to your heart as you slipped underneath the covers. It found its place right on your nightstand, right where you could watch it.

The shower’s hiss told you that Joel was enjoying the heat. You even heard a curse—probably him underestimating how hot it got—and a sigh. 

With your head on the pillow, you stared up at the ceiling, the quick whurr of the fan providing a layer of background noise. It played as a soft landing for all your fast-moving thoughts that seemed to have consumed you. 

The gala was everything you wanted and more. You felt powerful. You felt that you had found your footing once more, just bigger and better. There wasn’t any part of you that really cared what they thought about you. Not the men or the paparazzi or even Michelle. It had all become what this fan was to you: background noise.

You lay there for a while, about to close your eyes—not because you were tired, but because you could—when you heard the door open with a soft click. When you looked up, you saw Joel in his clothes, tossing everything dirty into the hamper. 

The lights were turned off, the door was shut, and all that was left was you both staring at each other. 

Joel spoke with his body, coming around toward his side of the bed. The same side he had always kept since you were dating. He opened the covers, saw you shiver, and got in quick to bring back the heat. You both turned to each other, heads on separate pillows as the only thing that filled up your vision was him.  

You held your ground and didn’t hesitate to keep his stare. “Well, if you’re going to be in my room, there are rules.”

He didn’t lose his gaze. “What’re they, dare I ask?”

Nuzzling closer into your pillow, you smiled, “You can’t kick or snore, obviously.”

Joel frowned, “I don’t kick.”

“You clearly haven’t been conscious, but trust me, you do.”

“No, I don’t.” He came closer to you, a sly smile on his lips, “‘Cause if I did, you would’ve kicked back. I can accept the snorin’, sure, I admit to my faults. But if anythin’; you’re the kicker between the both of us.”

A faux gasp left your lips, “Don’t you dare falsely accuse me! Where’s your evidence”

“I’m sure I got a couple of dents in my bones ‘cause of your feet. Wanna see?”

“The jury will trust the witness—”

“Victim.”

“—the victim’s word. You don’t have to show me anything. It’s way too cold to even think about lifting this cover.”

Joel’s brows knitted together, “You’re cold?”

“It’s probably… thirty-six degrees outside. I’m going to be freezing no matter how many layers I put on. The heater's useless at this point.”

“I don’t notice it much.”

You prop yourself up with your elbows, looking down over his face, “Yeah, well, you’re a built-in furnace. Maybe that’s how you were able to survive for so long after you left the airport.”

“Could give it to you, y’know?”

You tilted your head away, “That sounds like somethin’ you’ve said while we’ve—”

“I ain’t bein’ dirty!” Joel exclaimed, throwing his forearm over his eyes, chuckling. When he finished, he peeked beneath his arm, “I was sayin’—we could… I don’t know… get real close and share body heat—”

“Is this you asking to cuddle, because if so I’m going to laugh from how nervous you’re acting.”

“‘Cuse me for bein’ considerate.”

“Apologies. I should’ve deciphered your riddle a bit more quickly.”

You both laughed, the noise coming easily for both of you. Humor and banter came naturally, despite everything that happened between you both. You could picture yourself being young, alone with him as you both laughed about something so stupid. 

Your hair fell over your cheeks, tickling your skin. Joel’s chuckles quieted as he noticed that those long and rough fingers of his brushed the strands away. You fell silent, just watching him watch you with an unreadable expression. You felt his warmth when he cupped your cheek.

“Can I?”

“Of course you—”

You couldn’t even finish your sentence before his hands were pulling you down to him. So fast that you had to grab his biceps to keep you steady. He pulled you right over his body, so that your head was placed square onto his chest. It was warm and strong, a perfectly familiar place to rest your body. 

Slowly, your arms came to snake around his waist, feeling all those strong muscles pulled taut and corded. A happy noise left him, vibrating throughout your entire body. .

“I’ve been wantin’ to do that since the carpet.”

“That was three hours ago!”

“I’ve been wantin’ to do that since the carpet three hours ago.”

You buried your face deeper into the fabric of his shirt, and threw your legs over him for good measure. Both his arms wrapped around you; one around your shoulders to keep you from slipping, another right by your knee, but close enough to your thigh. “Consider this my thanks.”

“Ain’t it my Christmas gift?”

“It’s both.”

Joel looked down at you, tilting his head. Then, he placed a kiss on your temple, so close to your cheek his lips caught the corner of your eye. You scrunched your nose at the feel, and he left with a big, dramatic smack from his lips.

Not wanting to be outdone, you pressed your lips to his mustache, right at the corner so that you got all the scruffy strands that burned so good against your lip.

But you knew why you picked that spot.

He did too, from the way he grunted and squeezed your shoulder and thigh. 

The corner of your lip had met his, ever so slightly, but the seams were so close you could feel his mouth open to gasp.

When you pulled back, you whispered, delighted in his ear: “Merry Christmas, Joel Miller.”

He looked at you as if you were evil and everything he wanted: “Merry Christmas, my sweetheart.”

This chapter is so so long it took years off my life to write!! But I love what I do, so am I really ever working...?

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He followed her out and they both buckled up after getting into his Escalade.

"We're still going to the Christmas tree farm to pick out a tree after school, right?" she asked him as he drove out onto the road.

"Don't you have a real tree at home?" Dieter questioned.

He was still hoping to convince her that the one at her home was enough. He'd much rather have his artificial tree back up again for the seventh year in a row. It didn't make a sappy mess everywhere.

"I'm coming over on Christmas Eve," she reminded him, as if she needed to. It would be their first Christmas together ever. He had plans. "And it's a crime you've never had a real tree."

He huffed. "Fine. You sure it's not too early though?"

"Mom keeps a tree alive for five weeks, why can't you?" she inquired.

"My housekeeper won't be pleased with the needle shed," Dieter told her. "But I guess between the two of us we can figure it out."

"Good."

Dieter braked as the traffic got heavy, and frowned. Something was off about them. The brake pedal felt soft, and it seemed like the Escalade had taken longer to slow down. He shook his head. He had to be imagining it. He hadn't gotten near enough sleep the night before, having stayed up late to work on memorizing a script for a part he was auditioning for later in the week.

The more he had to brake, the more dread filled him, but it wasn't until the Escalade started down a hill that ended at a red light that Dieter realized they were in trouble. Then the brakes completely stopped working, even with the pedal down to the floor.

Ally noticed the tension in his body. "Dee? What's going on?" she asked fearfully as the SUV picked up dangerous speed.

Dieter didn't have a chance to reply. They'd reached the red light, and the Escalade wasn't going to slow, let alone stop for it.

The heavy impact from the front as the Escalade sideswiped a vehicle turning left in the center of the road, and the following crunch of metal would haunt his dreams for a long time.

x

Dieter stirred to the sound of steady beeping and an equally steady, pounding headache.

His whole body ached in general, but when he shifted slightly a sharp pain by his ribs made his breath catch and he immediately stilled again.

When he opened his eyes he was blinded by the brightness of the room he was in. Everything was white.

He was in a hospital room. He instantly knew, having been in one far too often in his adult life due to his once reckless drug use.

It only took a moment for him to remember why.

"Ally," he said hoarsely, terror striking him like lightning. "Where's Ally? Ally!"

"Hey, hey," an unfamiliar voice replied, and he could hear someone rushing into his room. "It's okay, Mr. Bravo."

She was a nurse, sweet voiced, mid-twenties, and pretty. A decade ago he would have thought he was in heaven. Now he couldn't care less.

"Where's Ally?" he repeated.

He should have stopped the Escalade as soon as the brakes had felt off. If anything had happened to her...

"She's alive," the nurse reassured him. "She's down the hall in another room."

"How badly is she hurt?" he asked.

She pursed her lips.

"Tell me."

"She's been unconscious the past few days," she informed him. "As you have been. You both had concussions. She also has a broken arm, the radius. She had to have surgery for it, but otherwise she's okay. You have a cracked rib."

"She's still unconscious?" he faltered. "For the last few days? Doesn't that mean -."

"She's in a coma, yes," the nurse confirmed. "But so were you. We have no reason not to believe she won't wake up soon too."

"What room is she in?" Dieter demanded, sitting up. The pain stole his breath away from him, but as far as he was concerned, he deserved it for being so clueless.

He had put Ally in the hospital. Least he could do was go see her.

The nurse grabbed onto his shoulders gently. "Dieter, you are in no shape to move right now. You just woke up less than an hour ago."

"And she's my daughter!" he snapped.

She nodded, not thrown by his outburst in the slightest. "We know. Her mother told us. Please, just let me get the doctor to take a quick look at you first, then I will help you get to her room, okay?"

He agreed to her condition only because he didn't think he'd be able to walk to the door, let alone down the hall without assistance. There wasn't a wheelchair in sight either.

It took fifteen minutes, about fifteen minutes far too long for the doctor to exam Dieter and give him the clear to leave his room, not that Dieter would've listened to him if he'd ordered more bed rest.

The nurse helped him sit in a wheelchair and rolled him up to the entrance to Ally's room with his IV hooked up on a pole behind the seat, but he insisted on rolling into the room himself so she excused herself to check in on another patient.

When he entered the room his eyes were immediately drawn to Ally's tiny frame in the seemingly massive bed, pale and attached to far too many tubes and monitors.

An hour ago. The reason he hadn't been on a respirator when he woke up was that it hadn't been the first time he'd woken. He just didn't remember that first time. He must have been totally out of it, but despite his migraine, hardly lessened by the pain medication the doctor had administered to him, he was clear minded now and more painfully sober than ever.

"Dieter, you're awake," a voice gasped from her bedside.

"Hazel." He couldn't look in her direction, let alone make eye contact. He just knew she was sitting in a folding chair by Ally on the other side of the bed.

She surprised him by standing, causing her chair to scrap against the tile in the process, and rushing over to embrace him.

She hugged him so tightly he grimaced in pain. He clearly had some bruising over his left shoulder.

Hazel's reaction to seeing him only broke him down quicker. His shoulders shook as he began to sob.

"I'm so sorry, Haze," he choked out.

She shook her head and pulled away to cup his cheek. "It wasn't your fault, Dee. The brakes failed. James told me the mechanic found a leak, probably caused by debris in the road."

"I should have noticed that," he said bitterly. "I did notice that something was off. I didn't take it seriously until it was too late."

"You couldn't have known," she said, "It rarely ever happens."

"Doesn't matter."

"I don't blame you," she murmured softly.

"Well, I do."

She nodded in understanding. Dieter knew she would also blame herself, if she were in the same scenario. Not that his guilt ridden mind thought she'd ever be. He was the one who had a lifetime habit of making poor decisions.

"How is she?" he asked, sniffling and wiping away tears from his cheeks with the backs of his hands.

"Stable," Hazel answered, helping him pull up beside the bed. "The doctor seems pretty optimistic about her waking up, but there's no obvious signs yet."

"What did we hit?" Dieter inquired. "Do you know?"

His mind was scattered, all over the place, more than usual.

"A pick-up truck was taking the left turn; shit luck there," she muttered. "How many trucks are there in LA?"

"If fate exists, she's a bitch," Dieter agreed, gripping the raised rail of Ally's bed tightly. "Is the other driver okay?"

"Walked away with only a few scratches."

"Good."

Dieter glanced up at Hazel for the first time.

She looked exhausted. She was almost as pale as Ally and her eyes looked hollowed out. Her t-shirt was so wrinkled there was no way she'd changed it recently.

"You should go home," Dieter told her, his massive load of guilt only deepening. "Get some sleep. I'll stay with her."

"You're hurt," she protested. "If anything, you're the one that needs to rest."

"I've rested for days," he argued. "If anything changes I swear I'll have a nurse call you right away."

She must have been even more tired than he thought she was, because Hazel actually listened to him. "Okay," she said, sounding defeated. "But I'm only going home for a shower and a change of clothes. I can nap on a couch in the waiting room later if need be."

She hesitantly bent over the bed to kiss Ally on her forehead and turned back to Dieter to squeeze his shoulder one last time before leaving them alone, almost in a hurry. Clearly worried that if she thought about it too long she wouldn't be able to leave.

Dieter exhaled heavily after she left and clasped Ally's hand in his own. Hers was so small and delicate compared to his. It reminded him of how young she still was, even though she acted quite mature most of the time. Maybe he was just missing what he'd missed. Her first breath. Her first steps. Her first day of school. It only stung more now seeing her in the prone state she was currently in. Knowing it was possible he could miss out on more simply because there was a chance she'd never wake up.

He glanced away and wiped his nose on his hospital gown.

It took courage to look back at her face, but as painful as it was to do so and to notice the cuts scattered across it, cuts caused by shattered glass, he thought not looking would be far worse to bare.

"When you first showed up at my door I didn't want to believe it," he admitted to her quietly, under his breath, once again studying her hand in his. "I hadn't wanted any kids. I thought they'd only get in the way of what I wanted to do with my life. But when I saw you, saw pieces of myself in you, I wanted to do right by you. It wasn't the same thing that you wanted. I knew that even back then. But that's all I could give you at first."

Dieter felt the tears welling up again. "At first. Then I got to know you. You are the best kid I've ever known, Ally. Talented. Funny. Clever. Happy. And after I got to know you I started wondering how even a tiny piece of me could have helped make you. I've been a trainwreck most of my damned life. It was a miracle I got an Emmy in the state I was most of the time. I got clean before you, but you kept me clean. Not just out of obligation. I wanted to be there to get to know you more; to see you grow up. I'd already overdosed before; more than once. I didn't want to risk that again, not with you in my life."

He shuddered and lifted her hand to his lips so he could kiss the back of it as his tears fell freely. "I need you to survive, Ally. I don't think I can survive if you don't. I love you. Don't leave me."

He pressed his forehead against the cold metal bar of her bed and let his grief consume him: his fears, his guilt, his loneliness, his worst memories. His mother leaving, his father dying, Anika breaking up with him...

Everyone always left him. Maybe that was true to life, but it was more so true to his life compared to others, he thought. Maybe that was just his ego talking, but even though Dieter was aware of it, that wouldn't change the hollow feeling in his chest.

He realized then that the real reason he never wanted to be a parent was because of this. His underlining fear of loss. Losing his parents, past lovers, friends, that was one thing. Losing a child would be different, completely unbearable.

Yet he couldn't imagine going back to change any of it. The days they'd spent together since April. That night with Hazel all those years ago. He wouldn't be the changed man, the better man, he was now without her existence.

His forehead was still resting against the metal railing when he felt Ally's fingers twitch in his hand.

At first he thought he might have imagined it, but when he glanced up he saw her eyes were open and, moments later, she started panicking and choking on her breathing tube.

"it's okay!" he tried to reassure her, before yelling, "Nurse! Nurse! She's awake!"

He rubbed her arm and tried to calm her down with his presence until a couple nurses showed up with a doctor in tow, a different one than the one who'd cleared him.

It took a few hectic minutes before they had the tube out of Ally and she was comfortable, or as comfortable as she could be with several large bruises and her right arm in a cast and sling.

It was several minutes more until they had the room back to themselves, the doctor leaving to order further testing on them both, and the nurses to see other patients and call Hazel with the good news.

Ally had been quiet most of the time, only speaking to answer the doctor's questions. Her voice sounded so raw and raspy it hurt Dieter to hear it, but it also felt amazing to hear it at all.

The immense relief that had swept over Dieter while watching the ICU staff help Ally had threatened to make him fall apart again, but he refused to break down in front of her when she needed him most.

"Are you still in pain?" he asked her hesitantly.

She nodded slowly and his heart sank for the one thousandth time that day. "Do you want me to get the nurses to give you more medicine?"

She shook her head.

It wasn't like her not to use her words, but he couldn't blame her. If her throat was as sore as his was, it was a good enough deterrent. However the voice in his head, the paranoid one, was convinced she hated him for what happened and that was why she wasn't speaking to him.

"How much do you remember?" Maybe it was selfish, logically he knew he should just be silent with her, but he needed to know.

"We hit a pick-up," she murmured. "Were they okay?"

Dieter was surprised she was clear minded enough to ask. "Yeah, the driver was fine. Your mother told me."

"Is she coming back soon?" she inquired.

"The nurse called, so she should be here anytime," he replied. "She's going to be upset she wasn't here when you woke up though. I don't think she'd left you side since that morning."

Ally nodded again.

Dieter chewed on the inside of his cheek. "I'm so sorry, Ally. The brakes were messed up. I should have figured it out sooner."

"It was an accident," she stated.

"I'm still sorry," he insisted, scratching at the back of his head. "If I'd pulled over as soon as I noticed the brakes didn't feel right none of this would've happened."

"I'm fine," she promised him.

"You don't look it."

She coughed. "Thanks."

There was a curl to the side of her mouth and Dieter shook his head at her. "That's not funny. Not even a little."

She sighed and glanced down at her arm. "At least my class will be able to sign my cast. I've always wanted that."

Dieter's eyebrows arched. "Really?"

She rolled her eyes. "It's not like I wanted to get hurt; just if I was ever hurt I wanted it to happen when everyone could sign. There's a difference, I swear."

"Good."

"What about you?" she questioned, noticing him wince when he shifted in the wheelchair.

"Broken rib," he explained. "That's a new one."

"Did they fix it?"

"They don't do surgery for ribs generally," he answered. "Gonna have to heal it all on my own."

"That sucks," she commented.

"Yeah."

There was the sound of footsteps approaching fast in the hallway, then Hazel stormed into the room.

"Oh my baby, you're awake!" she cried in relief, wrapping her tightly in her arms.

"Mom," Ally choked. There was a weakness to to her voice that suggested she was close to crying. She clung onto Hazel tightly as she rocked her.

Watching them, Dieter suddenly felt like an outsider. Over half a year, and Ally was still only truly vulnerable around Hazel. The observation didn't have the right to sting, but it did.

Feeling awkward and sorry for himself, he excused himself back to his room.

x

It was a few more days before Dieter and Ally were released from the hospital, getting into Hazel's car after navigating the crowd that had formed just outside the main door with James' help.

Naturally, the paparazzi were having a field day with what had happened. Dieter had done his best to avoid looking at social media and the gossip magazines, but Hazel had heard it all at work and had to actively step into some conversations to straighten out the twisted stories people were passing around about the accident. Everything from them questioning if Dieter was still sober to him being responsible for the brake line damage. Some of the headlines were wild.

It was all noise to Dieter, he was used to talk, but Hazel was concerned about how it would affect Ally, so she discussed with her school about continuing her education without actually going in at least for a few more weeks. Hopefully by Christmas the interest would blow over. Dieter was planning on doing an interview with a trusted late night talk show host hopefully before then, to clear the air for her sake.

A full week passed before Hazel dropped Ally off at his house to be watched for the day, having used up all her sick days and needing to get back to work.

Ally had her rolling suitcase with her, filled with whatever she'd need until Hazel came back to pick her up after her shift. She'd quickly settled on the couch and gotten to work on homework. Apparently she had a ton after missing nearly two weeks of school.

Dieter had offered to help, but she'd wisely turned him down. School hadn't been one of his fortes.

He kept his distance so not to distract her, focusing on replying to emails and drinking his coffee at the kitchen bar. He still got sharp pains on his side whenever his prescribed painkillers started wearing off, but with them at full force it evened out to a constant ache that was just tolerable enough for him to be able to sit on a stool for a while.

It was long enough that when he got up to take another pill and check on Ally, she'd fallen asleep reclined on the couch with an Algebra book still laying across her lap.

He grabbed the old wool throw he kept on the couch during the autumn and winter and threw it on top of her before carefully sitting in one of his leather chairs to watch TV, volume on low.

That's when she started mumbling in her sleep.

He glanced in her direction in time to notice her beginning to toss and turn. Before she could hurt her arm, he stood up again, grimacing but otherwise ignoring his pain from the quick movement to approach her.

"Ally," he called out softly. "Ally, hey, it's okay, you're only dreaming."

Her eyes snapped open and she bolted up. "Dad!"

He froze, stunned. Not Dieter. Not his nickname. Dad.

Her eyes found him and the terror in them had him hurrying to her side and hugging her.

"Your rib," she protested.

"It's fine," he assured her, squeezing her slightly.

She squeezed him back. "I had a nightmare about the accident," she admitted to his shoulder. "I woke up, but you weren't there. They said you hadn't survived."

"I'm fine."

"I know," she said, "But it felt so real. Do you dream about it too?"

"Yes." He'd had a disturbingly similar dream about her a few days ago.

"It'll fade, right?"

"My therapist would say yes, but it'll go quicker if we talk about it," Dieter replied.

Ally groaned.

"That's the same reaction I had."

He pulled back to meet her eyes and pinched her chin briefly between his fingers. "We don't have to today. I have an appointment with Patience on Wednesday, why don't we go together?"

She nodded. "Okay."

"Sooo...this Dad thing," he pressed on. "Is that going to be the new normal, or was it a one time deal?"

Ally giggled. "I said that, didn't I?"

"You did."

"Do you want me to?" she asked shyly.

"Only if you do," he replied, carefully choosing his words so not to influence her decision.

"I do," she confirmed. "You're my dad."

Dieter's heart soared. He grinned and kissed her forehead. "And therefore, the luckiest dad ever."

"Ew," she said in reaction to the kiss in typical preteen fashion.

He ignored her comment. "You hungry? Want to eat ice cream for dinner?"

She lit up. "Do you have chocolate chip?"

"Of course I do. What kind of a person do you think I am?"

She shot for the kitchen and he laughed.

It hurt, but he didn't care.

xxx

Tagged: @harriedandharassed @trulybetty @bergamote-catsandbooks

xxx

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When Frankie wakes up, the sparse light filtering through the curtains tells him it's early. Earlier than he expected to wake up. It's always when he can actually sleep in that he wakes up early, and when he needs to set an alarm, that he could've slept for hours.

With a sigh, he decides he can use the extra time his internal clock gives him to take care of his truck. It needs some maintenance, and it always helps to clear his head. The past day has been on his mind a lot, and he needs to refocus on the now.

He opens his garage door to let some fresh morning air in, and he puts some music on his old stereo. Hands in the engine, he feels his mind drift, the many thoughts tormenting him finally dimming, the jumble ordering itself neatly, and letting him concentrate on what's in front of him, sometimes humming to the music . After an hour or so, he stands up, stretching his back and assessing his repairs while wiping his hand on a dirty rag, with satisfied hum escaping his throat.

He could change his car, he could buy a new stereo, heck, he could change his whole wardrobe every season and his bank account would still be fine. He made good investments and sensible choices. Maybe not right away, there were a few month where they all went a little crazy. Spending their newly acquired money on foolish things: a Ferrari, or a luxurious house, or traveling around the world, or… drugs.

But they all got better. Well, almost all of them. And honestly, Frankie just doesn't understand the need to buy new stuff when the old one still works fine.

He's not stingy, at least not when it comes to the people he loves. He helped Elena buy a place for herself and Mia. She didn't want to at first, didn't want his money, didn't want to feel indebted to him. She's a proud woman, ambitious and smart, and that's what drew him to her. But that also means she has a hard time accepting help. Not that she needs him, heck, she's perfectly capable of taking care of herself and Mia without his help. But he wanted the best for them, a place close to her work, not too far from him, near good schools. He wanted his daughter, and by extension his ex-wife, to have the best environment possible. And that is something Elena understood.

After investing in Delta Heli Tours, he got himself his own house, a few minutes away from the airfield. It's the smallest one in his fancy neighborhood. Not by necessity, but only because it was already bigger than anything he ever lived in. A 3-bedroom with a nice front porch, a small backyard right on the water, and a small dock, and attached to it, the small sailboat he splurged on.

Yes, he did get himself something he didn't need. Something silly that made him no better than any other rich guy, he couldn't help but scorn. But he always wanted to learn how to sail. And he could envision himself and Mia when she was a little older. He loved flying, he would always love it. But he also wanted to have control over the water. he had land, air, and now water.

His therapist had encouraged him. He needed the distraction, he needed to be busy. When he came back from Colombia, idleness almost killed him. He survived, but it destroyed what was left of his marriage.

Frankie's head wisps when he hears a knock on the wall of the garage. Tom is standing there, leaning on the door frame, his sunglasses hanging by the collar of his t-shirt. Frankie watches him for a second, judging Tom's countenance. He looks contrite, he comes to negotiate a truce.

"Hey," Frankie stays put, doesn't move apart from the nod emphasizing the greeting, "Do you want coffee?" Tom hums in agreement, "Go sit in the backyard, I'll bring it in a sec." Tom turns to walk around the house, while Frankie goes back inside. There is no need to say more, no need to ask how Tom takes his coffee, a little bit of milk and no sugar, no need to ask what brings him here. They are more than brothers after all. And words have never been their forte.

A few minutes later, Frankie arrives at his backyard, with a small tray, carrying two coffee mugs, and a plate full of misshaped Mantecaditos. Frankie's been experimenting with an old family recipe; he wants to make some for Mia, even try to bake with her. He's trying to get the exact same taste from the ones his abuela Nina [grandma Nina] used to make, and he feels like he's almost there.

He sits next to Tom on the mismatched garden chairs that are sitting facing the water, at the end of his small garden the Hillsborough Bay stretching ahead.

Both sip their coffee in silence, munching on the cookies. Silence is also a way of communicating, a way of acknowledging the tension, it letting it ease down, of getting comfortable. And also accepting each other.

Finally, Tom breaks the silence. "I'm sorry for the shitty things I said. I let my anger speak. It's no excuse. But for what it's worth, I admire what you have. Your business, what you built with Elena and Mia." He sighs. Frankie knows there is something more to come, so he doesn't speak, "I might be a little jealous of it."

That gets Frankie's attention, he didn't expect as much coming from him. Tom is still staring at the sea before turning his head to look at Frankie, his eyes red from lack of sleep and also unshed tears.

"Molly agreed to have coffee with me on Saturday." There is a shy hope in Tom's voice.

"That's great, Tom, I'm happy for you."

"Thanks." They let another moment pass.

"I'm trying to…" Tom stops, he is struggling to say the words. "I'm trying to quit drinking. I'm… At least trying to drink less."

"I'm proud of you, man. Accepting you have an addiction is the hardest step."

"Yeah." Tom's sigh doesn't sound very convinced. But it does give Frankie some hope. Maybe things will get better, maybe they will all get back to the way they were. Wishful thinking. But Frankie does allow the hope to settle a bit in his mind and heart.

"Do you want my sponsor's number? He could give the names of people to contact, maybe some meetings you can–"

"Nah." Tom sniffs, drains his cup, and stands up, "I think I'm good on my own. But thanks for the offer. I have to go. Have a good day, 'fish." And with that, he crushes the small hope Frankie had let his heart open to.

—

You don't see Frankie for the next two days, his schedule indicating his next flight is on Wednesday early morning. Part of you is glad, you don't like confrontation, and you're slightly nervous after your interaction with him. It's not that you think you are wrong, you're just weary and wish you could get over it fast. And see if what Colin and your colleagues, after hearing about what happened, say about Frankie is true, that he really is a good guy.

When you recount the event to Di, she cheers you for your reaction, and then uses words to describe her feelings toward Frankie that could make a truck driver blush. At least she makes you laugh while you settle on your couch, phone in hand. It's good to know you have her nearby, that you can see her whenever you want. It doesn't feel as hard to be in a new place where you have to make your whole life yours again. It actually makes you feel good, exhilarated.

On Tuesday after work, you make your way to a bookstore, intent on buying a few books, a treat to yourself after your second day, and also because the books waiting for you on your night stand aren't appealing anymore.

As you make your way into the store, you are immediately drawn in by the coziness. It's a small place, cramped, with books all the way up to the ceiling. It makes you want to sit in one of the comfortable-looking chairs with a book and a hot beverage. The staff is friendly, even if they don't have the book you were looking for. Instead, you go, browsing around the place, letting the covers bring you in, attract you, and walk around the different sections. Around a corner, you stumble on someone you recognize.

Granted, you didn't get to look much at him while you were trying to kill him with your words and eyes, but you could recognize the silhouette and hat anywhere, even if his face is turned down, looking at several books on display in the children's section.

Your first move is to back away, turn around, and leave the store, but then, you decide you are in your right. If anyone needs to be ashamed, it's him. And if he is such a good guy, as everyone keeps telling you, then maybe this is the opportunity to find out. So instead, you walk up to him and say. "So that's what you do on your free time, when you are not flying tourists over the bay, or belittling meteorologists?"

Frankie's head jerks up, and you see an array of emotions on his face when he looks at you: bewilderment, recognition, and instant shame. It does make you feel a little guilty, but you stand your ground, a smirk on your face.

He immediately straightens up, taking off his hat, like a kid caught doing something naughty. He murmurs your name before clearing his throat, "I…, I'm happy to see you!" When you give him a quizzical look, he runs a hand through his hair. "I mean… I've been wanting to talk to you. To tell you… To apologize. I was such a jerk. What I said…" He closes his eyes, takes another deep breath. "There are no excuses for what I said, but I really do hope you will accept my apology and that maybe we can start over."

You stay silent, trying to gauge his sincerity. But he mistakes your silence for something else.

"It's OK if you don't, I deserve it. But I hope we can at least work in good harmony."

He does look very sincere. You decide to relent.

"Seems fair," you finally say. You see him relax, his whole demeanor softening. "But you won't get another chance." You add sternly.

"I barely deserve this one, but I'll take it." He smiles and you spot a dimple on his right cheek.

Your eye fall on the array of books laid in front of him, you catch the cover of one called "Stuck in the Middle", depicting a little girl standing between mountains, looking torn apart . Another one with a big family and the title "The Invisible String". Frankie's hand brushes a third book, that has a drawing of a female pilot.

"A story on Amelia Earhart?"

"Yeah, my daughter wants to be a pilot." He says, looking proud and bashful at the same time, "and this book caught my eye, I want her to have examples of female pilots. Might take her to work one day, to meet Alysha." You can't help but smile seeing how proud he seems to be when he talks about his daughter.

"How old is she?"

"She's 3, and already very opinionated about the stories I read to her."

"What's her name?"

"Mia." There is a short lull, then Frankie points to the books you are holding. "What are you getting?"

You look at your books in your hand and show him. "I was going to pick up another book, but they don't have it anymore."

He lets out a small laugh when he sees what you picked. Before you can question him, he tells you, "I'm sorry, I promise I'm not laughing at you. But a romance and a horror novel? I just didn't expect both paired together."

You join him in the laughter, "I actually like to read a romance right after a horror story, it's a palate cleanser to a sweeter world."

"That's actually a great idea. I read this one," he points to the horror, "It's good. What book were you planning on getting?"

"Our Share of Night, by–"

"Oh, I read it! It's great, you are going to love it."

"Yeah? Everyone says it's great, I can't wait to read it."

There is a silence, both of you looking at each other. The kind of silence of people who don't really know each other yet, who don't know what to say next. It's a little uncomfortable, but it's not too bad.

"Well, I should get going." You say, pointing behind you to the cashier.

"I'll let you go. I'm going to see if I can find other books for Mia. Have a good evening."

"You too!"

—

The next day, when you arrive at work, you find on your desk a pristine copy of Our Shared Night, with a scribbled note on top, from one of your colorful post-it decks.

"I already had the copy when a friend gave me this for my birthday. I remembered it when I came back home. It's yours, just tell me once you've read it, if you enjoyed it."

You smile and tuck the note inside the book before putting it in your bag. This small act of kindness warms you. He really isn't that bad after all. You are ready to give him another chance.

—

"How are you settling at work?" Di asks while she digs into your sushi plate.

"Good. Still doing good." You use your chopsticks to fend her off. She pouts, so you relent.

"What about the asshole pilot?"

"Frankie? He's actually not that bad." You answer mindlessly, picking a dumpling from the shared plate.

"Is he secretly a sweetheart under all the misogyny and grumpiness?"

Her tone makes you laugh. "I don't know, I just bumped into him at a bookstore last night, and he apologized. He was actually pretty good about it. And he gave me a book."

"Oo-ooh, so now you have a crush?" She looks at you expectantly.

"What?" You look at her, horrified, "No! He's married, or is with someone, I don't know. He has a daughter. I just think he's decent. Plus, free book."

"OK. If you say so." She looks a little crestfallen. Which is suspicious. She's not the romance type.

"You are acting weird. What's up with you?"

"I'm not weird." She frowns, but doesn't look at you. It feels fishy.

"Yes, you are! You are hiding something."

"I'm not!"

"You are!" You sound like siblings fighting, but that's what always happens between you both; you've known each other for so long.

"Fine! I'm seeing someone!" Di finally relents, sitting back on her chair and crossing her arms.

"WHAT? Since when? What happened to the 'I'm never again dating a guy, they are all dead to me?' Oh! Is it a girl?" Your voice rises, and you try to contain it when she motions for you to speak lower.

"No, unfortunately, it is a guy."

"Is that why you suddenly want me to have romance in my life?"

"Maybe, I just felt it would be nice if you had an crush. It's been nice seeing someone and I wanted you to have the same."

"Who are you, and what did you do to my friend?" You ask her, fake shocked.

"He makes me laugh, OK? He's sweet and really nice, and fun." You sense her defensiveness, so you stop mocking her.

"How long have you been seeing him?"

"A little over 2 months." She relents after stalling for a bit.

"Why didn't you say anything?" You can't help but show your surprise.

"I don't know. I guess I was a little embarrassed?"

"But why?" You are puzzled. Di is never embarrassed; she's the kind of person who never apologizes for who she is.

"It's stupid, and I feel ashamed. He was a one-night stand. I met him at a bar. But then it just… I don't know, I saw him again. And... He's just a guy, guy, you know? A dude bro kind, who's into sports, fishing, and stuff like that. And with all my big discourse, I just felt like a traitor for falling for the exact type of guy that I usually hate."

"Falling?" You quirk your eyebrows.

"Shut up! I don't know."

"Babe, listen." You lean in and put your hand on her arm. "Does he treat you right?"

"Yes." You notice the smile spreading on her face.

"Is he respectful? He isn't angry that you are married to your job?"

"No, not at all! He's really great. He's impressed, and loves that I talk about what I do, he reads my stuff, and asks questions, and gives me compliments. And he's interested in so many things, and… I really, really like him." She sighs with a dreamy look on her face, and you can't help your own goofy smile, happy to see her like this.

"Also, he's crazy hot and has an amazing body, and the sex is unbelievable."

"Girl, I'm jealous!" You both laugh before you sober up a bit, to tell her one last thing, hoping to put at ease whatever might keep her from fully embracing it. "I'm happy for you, however long this lasts. Also, I can understand your reservation, but we aren't in high school anymore. You can date the jock, it doesn't make you shallow. As long as you are happy and he treats you right, that's all that matters. Fuck anyone who tells you otherwise"

"You are the best. You really are. You deserve a nice guy to treat you well, someone who sees that."

"Yeah, well, right now I'm happy. I feel like I'm getting my life back together. I enjoy living alone, getting to know myself again. So it's fine if I don't find anyone."

—

It's Friday evening, and when Frankie just gets back from his sunset tour, he's ready to call it a day and get back to his house. He wants to catch up on the latest series he's watching, maybe make himself a nice dinner, or treat himself to a pizza.

But as he's walking past the offices, Alysha calls him out, "Frankie! We were waiting for you. We are going to grab a drink and introduce the new girl to Joe's. Do you want to join?"

And before Frankie can think of an excuse to say no, his eyes fall on you, and you give him a small smile.

"Yeah sure!" He really is a sucker for pretty eyes and nice smiles. The same kind that makes him go into bookstores late on a Tuesday night to buy a book he already owns.

—

Joe's is a beach shack. Four walls, doors and windows open, fans on the ceiling, set at full speed, not giving a real breeze in the Floridan heat of this mid-September evening. The place sits right next to the airport and is mostly filled by people you start to recognize, seeing them everyday on the airfield. Everyone seems to know Joe, the owner, a guy with no age, tanned and wrinkled skin from the sun and the sea, long gray hair, and unkempt beard. He looks like he was built in with the place and probably has been here since the it opened. He stands behind the bar, bottles lined up in front of a dirty mirror, a few deserted tables inside, and more on the porch surrounding the small building. One-dollar bills are stuck everywhere: on the wall, the pillars, the ceiling, flying around, and you can also make out postcards from around the world. You look around while they all greet Joe and follow them to a table on the deck, overlooking the water. Everything is old and decrepit, but it has such a warm vibe that you feel at home immediately.

Frankie sits next to you, putting down your drink in front of you. You can sense the warmth irradiating from him and can't help being a little self-conscious as you listen to everyone speak. Alysha and Jean are talking about something, but you have a hard time concentrating, you can't help but observe everyone. Jean is trying to draw Fred into the conversation, Alysha is laughing loudly, brushing her braids back her shoulder, Frankie is assessing everyone and staying quiet, sipping his beer, which you notice is a non alcoholic one.

After a moment, on the second round of drinks, Alysha's, they brushed off your offer with a "Newbies don't pay the first time", the conversation settled on the past week and on you. Most of it is done by Jean and Alysha, with a few interjections by Fred, finally opening up, happy to be included with the adults. Frankie is still on the quiet side. He surveys the conversation but does not look bored. He joins in with laugh and jokes a bit. You ease up, and at one point, when Fred and Alysha are discussing a specific technical problem on a helicopter, while Jean is busy at the bar talking to Jo, you turn to Frankie and find his eyes already on you. You try not to get flustered by his gaze and ask, "How did Mia enjoy the books?"

"She hasn't seen them yet." He takes a sip from his drink and adds, "She won't be back until Monday." He must see a bit of perplexity on your face, because he adds, "She is with her mom, we're divorced and have joint custody. So she won't see the books until then."

Suddenly, the books you saw him with make more sense, he was getting his little girl stories to understand parent separation. This information, coupled with the knowledge that he is in fact single, makes your heart flutter. Without even realizing it, your body turns toward him, allowing you to engage more fully in conversation, as you talk about his daughter, work, places to eat.

Time flies by, and it's only when everyone gets up to take their leave that you realize you and Frankie have been talking for an hour, oblivious of everyone else.

Mantecaditos: crispy butter cookies, you can find different versions (with different names) depending on the country, here is a recipe

The books Frankie bought for Mia: Stuck in the Middle, by Tom Tinn-Disbury Amelia Eheart, by Maria Isabel Sanchez Vegara  The Family String, by Joanne Lew-Vriethoff 

A tear falls down your cheeks. You don’t answer, but your hand squeezes Joel’s hand tightly.

“Listen to me,” Joel says, leaning into your ear.

“If you marry another man and forget our past, my soul won’t rest. I will come back from my grave in the middle of the night, not to scare you but to hold you. I will be the wind that blows at your window because not even death itself can put out the fire I feel for you.”

Joel pulls you to his chest, staying in silence as the last rays of the sun hid on the horizon, and the orange color turns into a clear darkness settling around you.

Neither of you moves. The distant lights of Jackson glow faintly below, scattered over the earth as if the world had turned upside down.

Joel's thumb brushes across your knuckles, back and forth as if looking for a bit of warmth in his friction with your skin.

It is a habit he had developed with you and he had carried for years.

You are the safe place he needs to go to every time he craved it.

"Do remember that cabin?" he asks suddenly.

You laugh softly. "The one with the broken roof?"

"The one with the broken roof." He repeats.

"It collapsed while we were sleeping." You add, a sad smile appears on your face.

You turn to look at him, and the same smile lingers on his face, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"We nearly froze to death that night," he says, smiling at the memory, letting out a quiet chuckle that ends up fading as quickly as it came.

For a moment, he seems lost in the memory, and you study his profile in the fading light of the moon now.

The scar near his temple, the lines beside his eyes, and the silver beginning to spread through his hair. Years ago, those things would have frightened you. They were reminders that time was moving forward.

Now, they're reminders that time had chosen to spare him.

Joel notices you staring. "What?"

"Nothing,” You shrug, smiling “just looking at you."

His gaze softens and silence follows. It feels different.

Charged.

"You know what I regret?" he asks, breaking the silence again.

You raise an eyebrow. "Only one thing?"

A quiet laugh escapes from his lips, "No. Just the one that's bothering me tonight."

The smile on your face fades. Joel rarely talks about regrets. He rarely talks about his feelings.

Most of the time he has been a reserved man that has spent years burying regrets beneath silence.

"What is it?"

He looks down at your joined hands, and for a moment, you think he won't answer.

"All the time I wasted."

You frown. "Wasted?"

"Before you."

The words catch your breath.

"I’m not talking about us meeting." Joel says when he notices your expression.

"Then what are you talking about?"

His jaw tightens. "The years after."

"The years after what?"

He doesn't answer immediately, and the darkness embraces you as you look at Jackson from afar.

A place built from second chances, a place neither of you ever expected to find and settle.

"The years I spent believing I had nothing left to lose." His voice is nothing but a whisper at this point.

You stare at him because Joel never talks about himself like this.

"You had plenty to lose."

"Yeah, I know.” The answer comes too quickly as he had thought.

His thumb continues its slow path across your knuckles. "And I didn't realize it until it was already mine."

Your chest tightens, Joel finally turns toward you, and there is something strange in his expression.

There is no sadness beneath his eyes, not even fear, but something soft that made your heart hurt.

"If I got another twenty years with you, I'd still complain it wasn't enough."

You let out a shaky laugh. "Twenty years?"

"Fifty, then."

"Now you're dreaming." You say, voice breaking.

"Maybe."

His smile appears again, it’s barely a smirk. That kind of smirk that vanishes if you look at it too closely.

You reach up and brush a strand of gray hair away from his forehead.

"Are you planning on turning into an old man?"

Joel's eyes linger on yours, longer than they should, and it makes your stomach twist.

"I wanted to."

So, you lean forward and press your forehead against his, to feel his breath on your face.

And the world continues moving around you, time continues stealing your breath.

Life goes on as if it always will.

Joel's hand finds the back of your neck, the calluses on his palm and fingers scrape gently against your skin.

A familiar touch, the same one that has followed you through years of winters and summers, in the middle of gunfire and storms, through every version of yourself that existed before and right now in this very moment.

You close your eyes.

"You know what your problem is?" you whisper, on his face.

"What?" Joel says and lets out a low hum.

"You think too much." A laugh escapes him.

And for a second, it sounds like the Joel only you know.

The one who insists he'll be fine when he is bleeding, the one who is always strong.

"I learned from the best." You shake your head.

Joel smiles, but the smile fades.

Not suddenly, slowly and it hurts.

"Are you scared?" he asks.

The question catches you off guard. His eyes remain on yours, and you stare right back at him, too close your nose still brushes, and your throat tightens.

"I am so scared.”

"Me too." He confesses.

The confession breaks you because who they are coming from.

Joel has always carried fear differently, locked behind clenched teeth and silent.

You can't remember the last time he admitted it aloud.

"What scares you?" you ask softly.

His gaze drifts toward the horizon. Toward the darkness stretching beyond Jackson.

Toward something only, he can see.

"Leaving things unfinished."

Your heart shatters.

Joel swallows, and then he looks back at you. "And leaving people behind."

You want to tell him he's being ridiculous, that neither of you is going anywhere, and that you'll both be sitting on this hill twenty years from now arguing about whose knees hurt worse.

The words reach your tongue.

But they stay there because something in his eyes stops you, and you realized there’s nothing you can do to fool death.

You take his face in your hands and you hold him as if you can anchor him in here with you.

As if love alone can keep the world from taking what it always takes.

Joel closes his eyes and leans into your touch. A sigh comes out of him when he opens them again and looks at you with such tenderness that it hurts.

"There you are," he murmurs.

You frown. "What?"

A weak smile touches his lips. "Just wanted to see you."

He reaches for your hand, bringing it to his lips and he presses a kiss on your knuckles.

And an unbearable feeling grows inside you.

Because time is slipping through your fingers and this moment is becoming a memory even as it happens.

And Joel pulls you closer, his forehead resting on your temple and his lips on your cheeks.

You close your eyes at the feeling, at the weight of him, at his scent.

At his colder skin.

And when you open your eyes, the cold bits your face.

It seems like the world around you is blurred, and the stars are suddenly gone. The sky above you is pale and colorless, carrying the first hints of dawn.

The grass beneath your cheek is damp with humidity. Your neck aches, so you sit up, and the blanket over your shoulders slides down your shoulders.

For one foolish, fleeting second, you reach beside you expecting to find warm and Joel’s sleepy sigh in the morning.

But your hand finds nothing but flat grass under your touch, and the morning greets you with silence.

A sharp breath catches in your throat, and your gaze lifts up to the stone behind you.

Joel Miller.

A loving father.

A loving brother.

Joel died.

Joel lived once. Yes, in the past tense. Everything he was, everything he did was written in carved fragments over a stone.

And yet they held an entire universe for you.

For one foolish, fleeting second, you reached beside you, expecting to find warmth and Joel's sleepy sigh greeting the morning.

But your hand found nothing except flattened grass beneath your fingertips.

The morning greeted you with silence.

A sharp breath caught in your throat, and your gaze lifted toward the stone behind you.

Joel Miller.

A loving father.

A loving brother.

Joel died.

Joel lived once.

Yes, in the past tense.

Everything he was, everything he did, had been reduced to carved fragments upon a stone.

And yet they held an entire universe for you.

Your eyes remained fixed on his name.

Joel Miller.

The letters blurred as the tears gathered in your eyes.

You remembered the first time he told you his name because now, reading it felt sacred.

A name that had once belonged to a strange man with brown eyes who looked for you when nightmares woke him in the dark.

And the stone did not tell any of those stories. It did not mention the way his eyes softened whenever he looked at the people he loved.

Your fingers brushed against the engraved letters.

Cold, Joel had never been still.

A broken laugh escaped from your lips. The sound startled you; you had forgotten what laughter sounded like after he was gone.

You still remembered the feeling of his arms around you and his beard scrapping on your face.

And you still remembered how he used to look at you, as if loving you had been the easiest thing he had ever done.

You let your forehead rest on the cold stone, letting his name press into your skin like deep cuts

“If you can hear me,” you whispered into the silent morning, “please, don't leave me alone out here.”

But there was no answer, just the sigh of the wind.

But you also knew him. You knew the fierce and stubborn soul of Joel Miller. He wouldn't just stay carved in stone. If love could cross the border of the dead, you knew his ghost would be standing right here in the shadows, arms open, refusing to ever let you go.

PART 13: THE COUNTDOWN

Sunday morning arrived far too soon. Joel woke slowly, the way someone does when their body is exhausted but their mind hasn’t caught up yet. For a moment he didn’t move. Just lay there, half buried under the blanket, staring at the pale winter light creeping through the edge of the curtains.

Something warm was pressed against his chest. You. Your hair was spread across the pillow, one arm thrown lazily over his stomach, your leg tangled with his under the sheets like you had no intention of letting him go anywhere.

Joel let out a quiet breath. His entire body ached. Not the bad kind. The kind that came from too little sleep and a very enthusiastic celebration the night before.

He closed his eyes again for a second. And then the thought hit him. My fiancée.

Joel opened one eye. That word still felt strange in his head. He looked down at your hand resting against his chest. The ring caught a thin beam of sunlight and flashed faintly. Still there. Still real.

He felt something warm settle low in his chest. My fiancée.

You stirred slightly, your nose brushing against the fabric of his T-shirt as you shifted closer without waking up.

Joel smiled faintly. You two had barely slept. Between the adrenaline of the night, the laughter when you got home, the excitement… and then finally being alone together upstairs… Joel rubbed a tired hand over his face. Yeah. Sleep had not been the priority.

He glanced at the clock. Eight thirty. Too early for a Sunday. He carefully shifted his arm, trying not to wake you… when the bedroom door burst open.

“CAN I TELL PEOPLE NOW?!”

Joel closed his eyes. Of course. Sarah stood in the doorway in full morning energy mode, hair messy, pajamas crooked, practically vibrating with excitement.

You jolted awake beside him. “What-?”

Sarah marched halfway into the room. “Can I tell people? Can I tell Anna? And Lily? And Mrs. Hernandez? And-”

“Sarah,” Joel groaned, dragging a hand over his face. “It’s eight in the mornin’ sweetheart.”

You blinked slowly, still waking up. Then you noticed Sarah. And then the ring. And you smiled again immediately.

“Oh.”

Sarah bounced in place. “Can I tell people now?!”

Joel turned his head toward you, voice rough with sleep. “You started this.”

You laughed softly and buried your face in his shoulder for a second. Joel felt the vibration of it against his chest.

Sarah climbed onto the bed like a small unstoppable force. “So?!”

You sat up slightly, still wrapped in the blanket. “I think,” you said, smiling at Sarah, “we can tell people.”

Sarah gasped, then launched off the bed again like a rocket. “I’M TELLING EVERYONE!”

Her footsteps thundered down the hallway. The bedroom door slammed. Silence returned.

You slowly leaned back against the pillow. Joel looked over at you. You stared at each other for a second. Then started laughing.

Joel rubbed his face again. “…I’m exhausted.”

You smirked. “That’s your fault.”

Joel raised an eyebrow. “My fault?”

You gestured vaguely at him. “You’re the one who kept saying ‘one more.’”

Joel huffed. “Didn’t hear you complain.”

Your grin widened as you held up your hand again, admiring the ring in the morning light. “Nope.”

Joel watched you for a moment. Then shook his head, still half in disbelief. My fiancée.

****************

The first few days after the engagement felt… strange. Joel woke up Monday morning half expecting the whole thing to feel like something that had happened to somebody else. But then you would walk into the kitchen with your hair still messy from sleep, reaching for coffee, and the ring would catch the morning light… And the word would show up again in his head. Fiancée. It still felt unfamiliar. But every time he thought it, something quiet and steady settled in his chest.

The news traveled fast. Too fast. Sarah had clearly taken her role as official town crier very seriously. But Tommy? Tommy didn’t even pretend to be discreet. By the time Joel got to the jobsite Monday morning, the word had already spread. He knew the second he stepped out of the truck.

Three guys standing near the framing looked at him and immediately started grinning. One of them elbowed the other.

“Well, well, well.”

Joel frowned slightly. “…What.”

Another one laughed. “Congratulations, man.”

Joel stared at him. “…For what.”

That’s when Tommy’s voice came from behind the stack of lumber. “For getting engaged, dumbass.”

Joel turned slowly. Tommy was leaning against a beam with the most satisfied look Joel had ever seen. Joel stared at him.

“You told everybody.”

Tommy shrugged. “You told me.”

“That was two days ago.”

“Yeah.”

Joel dragged a hand down his face. “…Unbelievable.”

Someone from the scaffolding called down, “About time, Miller!”

Another voice added, “When’s the wedding?!”

Joel shook his head and kept walking toward the tool table. “Slow down.”

One of the guys clapped him on the back. “Seriously though, congratulations.”

Joel nodded once. “…Thanks.”

The teasing didn’t really stop all morning. Everywhere he went someone had a comment.

“So she finally said yes, huh?”

“Took you long enough.”

“You nervous yet?”

Joel answered most of it with a grunt or a shrug. But the small smile that kept sneaking onto his face gave him away anyway. Because every time someone said it, the same image flashed through his head.

You standing in the headlights of the truck. Eyes wide. Tears on your cheeks. Yes.

By midweek the news had clearly reached the school too. Joel found that out Wednesday afternoon when he picked Sarah up.

Leanne stood near the gate with a few other parents. She noticed him immediately. Her eyes flicked over him.

Joel gave her a polite nod. “…Leanne.”

She smiled. Tight. Very tight. “Congratulations,” she said.

Joel nodded once. “…Thank you.”

Leanne smirked slightly. “Well,” she added lightly, “that was… quick.”

Joel shrugged. “Seemed like the right time.”

She didn’t respond. Just watched him. Then Sarah came barreling out of the school doors like a rocket.

“Dad!”

She ran straight into him, nearly knocking the breath out of his lungs. Joel caught her automatically.

“Easy.”

She grabbed his hand and started walking toward the truck with him, already talking. “Emma says weddings have like huge cakes and sometimes chocolate fountains and can we have one and can I pick the music and-”

Joel glanced down at her. “…You been discussin’ my wedding at school.”

Sarah didn’t even try to deny it. “Well yeah.”

Behind them, Leanne’s smile had gone even tighter. Joel opened the truck door.

“…Unbelievable.”

The rest of the week passed in a quiet kind of happiness Joel still wasn’t used to. You worked late some evenings. Sarah filled the house with noise. And sometimes Joel would catch you absentmindedly turning the ring on your finger while you read something.

Saturday afternoon arrived before Joel had really thought about anything beyond that. You were all in the kitchen when Tommy leaned back against the counter, sipping a soda.

Joel was rinsing something in the sink. You sat at the table trying to revive a suspiciously brown plant. Sarah was drawing something that looked suspiciously like a wedding dress.

Tommy looked around the room casually. “So,” he said.

You glanced up. “So what.”

Tommy nodded toward you both. “How’s the wedding planning comin’ along.”

Joel turned slowly from the sink. “…The what.”

You blinked. “Our wedding?”

Tommy grinned. “Yeah. That one.”

Joel stared at him. “We got engaged like a week ago.”

Tommy shrugged. “Still.”

You laughed softly and leaned back in your chair. “We haven’t planned anything yet.”

Tommy nodded thoughtfully. “Fair.” Then he added, “But y’all should probably start thinkin’ about it.”

Joel looked at you. You looked back at him. Then both of you looked at Tommy.

“…You’re enjoying this,” Joel said.

Tommy’s grin was still firmly in place. “Oh yeah.”

You shook your head, amused, but after a moment you set your papers aside and leaned back slightly in the chair.

“Well…” you said slowly. “We probably should talk about a couple things. The big things.”

Joel dried his hands on a dish towel and turned toward you. “Like what.”

You glanced at him, thoughtful. “For starters… the timeline.”

Sarah’s head popped up instantly from her drawing. “Timeline?”

You nodded. “I, for one, don’t want a long engagement.”

Joel tilted his head. “How long’s ‘long’.”

“My friend Lisa was engaged for almost two years. Claire did eighteen months.”

Joel made a face. “Jesus.”

“Exactly,” you said. “I personally don’t want that.” You looked at him again, a little tentative. “I think six months is plenty.”

Joel considered that for about half a second. “…Yeah.”

You blinked. “That was easy.”

Joel shrugged. “We already live together. We already know what we’re doin’.”

You smiled softly. “That was my thinking.”

Sarah had been listening with increasing excitement. “Six months?!”

Joel raised an eyebrow. “Problem?”

Sarah shook her head rapidly, happy. “That’s soon!”

Tommy snorted into his soda. “Kid’s ready.”

You laughed, then grew thoughtful again. “Okay,” you said. “Next question.”

Joel leaned his hip against the counter. “Shoot.”

You hesitated for a second. “…Do you want a wedding wedding?”

Joel frowned slightly. “What’s that mean.”

“I mean…” you gestured vaguely. “A big one. Ceremony, guests, the whole thing.”

Joel didn’t answer right away.

You continued, a little more carefully.

“Honestly I figured you’d want something simpler. Maybe a courthouse wedding and then a dinner or small party with family.”

Sarah gasped like she’d just heard terrible news. “What?!”

You glanced at her. “What.”

Sarah looked horrified. “Then I can’t be a flower girl!”

Tommy burst out laughing. 

Joel rubbed a hand over his mouth.  “How do you even know what that is?”

You looked like you were trying very hard not to laugh too.

Sarah ignored him and crossed her arms. “That is not fair.”

Joel looked between the two. Then back at you.

“…Funny thing is,” he said slowly, “I did think that.”

You watched him carefully.

Joel shrugged a little. “But the more I’ve been thinkin’ about it…” Joel shifted his weight. “…I kinda want the whole thing.”

You blinked, surprised. “The whole thing?”

Joel nodded once. “Yeah.”

His voice went a little quieter now. “I want our people there.”

Tommy went very still against the counter.

Joel kept talking. “I want to say the words in front of ’em.” Your eyes were starting to shine, but Joel didn’t seem to notice. “I wanna see you walk toward me.” You inhaled sharply. Joel shrugged again, like it wasn’t a big deal. “…Down the aisle.”

Sarah gasped dramatically.

“I just want us to have a day we’ll remember when we’re grey and old,” Joel finished.

The kitchen went quiet for a second. You blinked quickly. Joel frowned faintly, only then realizing your eyes were shining.

That hadn’t been the plan. Hell, he hadn’t even planned to say half of that out loud. A few weeks ago he would’ve sworn a courthouse would be enough. Sign the papers, shake a few hands, get on with life. Simple. Quiet. Safe.

But somewhere along the way the idea had changed. Maybe it was the way you fit into his life so naturally it sometimes scared him. Maybe it was the way Sarah had started talking about your future like it was the most obvious thing in the world.  Or maybe it was just the thought of standing there… watching you walk toward him.

Joel shifted slightly where he stood, suddenly aware he’d said more than he usually did. But when he saw the look on your face; soft, overwhelmed, trying not to cry, something warm and steady spread through his chest. Yeah. That was exactly why.

Tommy rubbed a hand over his face like he was pretending something wasn’t happening to his eyes.

You blinked quickly, clearly trying to keep your composure. “…Okay then.”

Sarah shot straight out of her chair. “Yes!” She threw both arms in the air. “FLOWER GIRL!”

You laughed through the tears you were trying very hard not to shed. Then you rubbed at the corner of one eye and cleared your throat.

“Alright,” you said, pulling yourself back together. “Then maybe we should actually start looking at venues.”

Joel nodded slowly. “I guess.”

You leaned back in your chair, thinking aloud now. “Venues, vendors… catering, maybe a photographer…”

Tommy whistled under his breath. “That escalated quick.”

You looked at him. “You started it.”

Tommy raised both hands. “Fair.”

You looked back at Joel. “If we start looking now… maybe we could even tell everyone the date during Christmas break.”

Joel nodded again. “Yeah.”

That seemed reasonable. A small pause settled over the kitchen. Then Tommy shifted his weight against the counter.

“…About that.”

You looked over. “Yeah?”

Tommy scratched the back of his neck, suddenly looking far less confident than usual. “I was thinkin’…” he said slowly. “…about bringing someone to Christmas this year.”

You froze. Your eyes widened immediately. “NO.”

Joel looked between them. “…What.”

You blinked rapidly, clearly recalculating something in your head. Then you turned back to Tommy.

“…Really?”

Tommy nodded once. “I’ve been… seein’ someone.”

Sarah’s head popped up like a prairie dog. “You have?!”

Tommy smiled a little sheepishly. “Yeah.”

Sarah’s head popped up like a prairie dog. “You have a girlfriend?!”

Tommy smiled a little sheepishly. “Yeah, kinda.” He looked at Joel and you both. “And if it’s okay with you guys…” he added, voice quieter now, “I’d like to introduce her.”

“WHAT?!” Sarah and you both shouted at the exact same time.

Tommy flinched. “Jesus-”

“Tell us about her!” Sarah demanded immediately, climbing halfway onto her chair.

“Yes, tell us about her,” you added, eyes bright now.

Tommy grinned despite himself. “Her name’s Maria.”

You gasped softly. “That already sounds awesome.”

Tommy chuckled. “She’s… great.” He leaned his hip against the counter, clearly trying to sound casual and failing completely. “She didn’t fall for my bullshit the first time I tried flirting with her.”

Joel snorted quietly. “Smart woman.”

Tommy looked at him. “Exactly.” Then he went on. “We kinda… reconnected after I started therapy. Ran into each other again. And well…” He shrugged.

Sarah was practically vibrating. “And well what?!”

Tommy laughed. “And well… we started seeing each other.”

You put a hand to your chest dramatically. “Oh my God, I’m so happy.” Your eyes were already suspiciously shiny. “I’m gonna cry.”

Tommy turned at you immediately. “Please don’t.”

You sniffed once anyway. “Too late.”

Then Tommy added casually, “She actually works at the DA’s office.”

You froze. “…You’re kidding.”

Tommy shook his head. “Nope.”

You stared at him. “The DA’s office? So she’s a lawyer too?”

“Yeah.”

You leaned forward slowly. “…Tommy.”

Tommy grinned. “…Yeah.”

You slapped the table. “This is incredible.”

Tommy grinned, clearly enjoying the reaction now.

Sarah was practically bouncing in her chair. “Is she coming to Christmas Eve dinner?!”

Tommy nodded. “That’s the idea.”

You looked like you were about three seconds away from hugging him. “Oh my God, I’m so happy.”

Tommy held up a hand quickly. “Please don’t cry again.”

“I’m not crying,” you protested, wiping under one eye. “I’m emotionally supportive.”

Joel had been leaning against the counter watching this whole thing unfold like it was some kind of natural disaster. He shook his head slowly.

“…Poor woman.”

Tommy turned to him immediately. “Hey.”

Joel shrugged. “Just sayin’.”

Tommy folded his arms. “She’s the one who asked me out this time.”

Joel blinked. “…She did?”

Tommy nodded once, very satisfied with himself. “Yep.”

Joel let out a low whistle. “Well.” He pushed off the counter and grabbed his soda. “…Then she knows what she’s doin’.”

Tommy grinned. “Oh she does.”

You looked at him. “You better bring her.”

Tommy nodded.

Sarah raised her hand like she was in class. “Can I interrogate her?”

Tommy stared at her. “…You what.”

You patted Sarah’s shoulder. “Sweetheart, we’ll let her sit down first.”

Joel took a slow sip of his drink and glanced at Tommy. “…Name’s Maria, huh.”

Tommy nodded.

Joel gave a small approving nod. “…Alright.”

Tommy looked at him. “…That’s it?”

Joel shrugged. “What.”

Tommy squinted at him. “That was suspiciously supportive.”

Joel smirked slightly. “Don’t get used to it.”

***********

A couple days later, you made Joel’s life significantly easier. He was sitting on the tailgate at the jobsite during lunch, half listening to Tommy complain about a supplier, when his phone buzzed. He looked down. It was you.

The first message read: I narrowed it down to three venues.

Before he could answer, another one came through.

Before you panic: I already asked for pricing. They’re all in budget.

Joel snorted under his breath.

Tommy glanced over. “What.”

Joel turned the phone toward him. Tommy read it, then whistled softly.

“…Damn. That woman’s efficient.”

Joel opened the next message. Three links. Three venues. And under each one, a short note from you.

Venue one: oak trees, outdoor ceremony maybe, decent catering package.

Venue two: small renovated ranch house, prettier than expected.

Venue three: old limestone hall, bigger, slightly more formal.

At the bottom you had added: You just have to tell me which one you hate the least.

Tommy laughed out loud.

Joel shook his head, smiling despite himself. “She’s already called them.”

Tommy nodded. “Efficient.”

Joel tapped the first link. A clean website opened. Big lawn. White chairs under trees. Lights strung overhead in the dusk photos.

Tommy leaned closer. “…That’s nice.”

Joel opened the second. The ranch house had a wraparound porch and wildflowers out front.

Tommy raised his eyebrow. “Bit fancier.”

Joel clicked the third. Stone walls. Wood beams. Indoor hall with tall windows.

Tommy nodded slowly. “That one’s real nice too.”

Joel scrolled back to the first one. The trees. The open space. Something about it felt right. Not too formal. Not too stiff. You could walk through there. Sarah could run around there. Your people could fill it without it feeling cramped or showy.

Tommy noticed him lingering. “That your favorite?”

Joel shrugged slightly. “Maybe.”

Tommy took another look. “Yeah,” he said. “I can see it.”

Joel locked the phone and slid it back into his pocket.

Tommy smirked at him. “Look at you.”

Joel glanced over. “What.”

Tommy grinned. “Talking venues.”

Joel rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”

Tommy laughed. “Nah, I’m serious. You’ve gone full domestic.”

Joel shook his head. Then, after a moment, he looked at Tommy and said dryly,

“You’re next.”

Tommy blinked. “…Excuse me?”

Joel shrugged. “What. You think Maria’s puttin’ up with your ass forever without a ring?”

Tommy let out a bark of laughter. “Hell no.”

Joel smirked faintly. “That’s what I thought.”

Tommy pointed at him. “You worry about your wedding first, Romeo.”

Joel leaned back on his hands, the corner of his mouth still turned up. “Mm-hm.”

But even as Tommy kept talking, Joel was already thinking about the first venue again. The one with the trees. And about seeing it with you, so on Saturday you drove out together. The venue sat about forty minutes outside Austin, far enough that the city noise slowly faded into open fields and long stretches of quiet road.

Sarah had been talking the entire drive. “So where will the cake be?”

You laughed from the passenger seat. “We haven’t even booked the place yet.”

“But if there’s cake,” Sarah continued, leaning forward between the seats, “it has to be big. Like huge.”

Joel glanced at her in the rearview mirror. “…You ain’t even the one gettin’ married.”

Sarah shrugged. “I’m the flower girl. That’s important.”

You covered your smile with your hand. Joel shook his head, turning down the gravel driveway. The venue appeared slowly through a row of old oak trees; there, a restored farmhouse stood beside a large lawn. Strings of lights were already hung between the branches above the ceremony space, though they wouldn’t be lit until evening.

Your breath caught a little. “Oh.”

Joel noticed immediately. “…You like it.”

You stepped out of the truck slowly, looking around. “I love it.”

Sarah was already running toward the lawn. “IT’S HUGE.”

A woman in her fifties stepped out from the farmhouse with a warm smile. “You must be my 10:30.”

Joel shook her hand. “Joel.”

She turned to you. “And you must be the bride.”

You laughed softly. “That’s still strange to hear.”

“I’m Linda,” the woman said kindly. “Come on, let me show you around.”

She started with the ceremony space. Linda gestured toward the oak trees.

“Most couples set up right here,” she explained. “The aisle runs between the trees, chairs on either side. When the lights come on at dusk it’s really beautiful.”

Sarah immediately walked the imaginary aisle, throwing invisible flower petals. You watched her with a smile.

Joel looked up at the branches above them. “…You hang the lights yourselves?”

Linda nodded. “Every event. We also handle seating and basic setup.”

Joel nodded slowly.

“You’re asking logistics questions,” you said, amused.

Joel shrugged. “Just makin’ sure they know what they’re doin’.”

Linda chuckled. “We’ve hosted over three hundred weddings here.”

“That so,” Joel said.

You nudged his arm. “You sound like you’re interviewing her.”

Joel looked at you. “Well yeah.”

You laughed again.

You all moved toward the reception hall next. Inside, the space was bright with tall windows, wooden beams across the ceiling, and a polished floor that reflected the afternoon sun.

Linda pointed toward one side of the room. “Dance floor goes here.”

Sarah spun immediately in the empty space.

You turned slowly, taking everything in. “It’s beautiful.”

Linda smiled. “Most couples say that when they walk in.”

Joel studied the room quietly. “Capacity?”

“About one hundred fifty comfortably.”

Joel nodded again. He felt you watch him for a moment, surprised. When Linda stepped away briefly to grab a brochure, you leaned closer to him.

“You’re very invested in this.”

Joel glanced at her. “What?”

“I thought I’d have to drag you through venue visits.”

Joel frowned slightly. “Why.”

You shrugged. “I figured you’d tolerate it.”

Joel looked around the room again. Then back at you. “…I’m marrying you here.”

The simple way he said it made your throat tighten.

Joel gestured toward the windows, the trees outside, the space filling slowly in his mind. “Our people will be here.”

You blinked quickly.

Joel shrugged a little. “…I wanna see you walk toward me, maybe here, maybe in my parents’ church.”

You laughed softly through the emotion rising in your chest. “You keep saying that.”

Joel stepped a little closer to you. “Yeah.” His voice softened. “Because I can’t wait to marry you.”

You looked like you felt your eyes sting again.

Sarah’s voice rang out from the dance floor. “LOOK I’M PRACTICING!”

You laughed through the tears and leaned into Joel’s side. “Flower girl’s very serious about this.”

Joel smirked faintly. “…Good.”

And looking around the room again, he realized something quietly certain. This was the place.

Linda came back with a folder and a printed calendar. You took it, glancing over the details, but Joel’s attention had already shifted to the dates column.

“…Available dates?” he asked.

Linda stepped closer and pointed. “We’re pretty booked through the spring and summer next year,” she said, running a finger down the page. “But actually…” She paused. “We had a cancellation.”

Joel looked up. “When?”

“Last weekend of June,” she said. “The couple had to move their wedding overseas, so June twenty-eighth just opened up.”

Your eyes widened. “That’s… actually perfect.”

Linda nodded. “It usually goes fast when something like that opens.”

Joel studied the calendar for another second. Then he asked, calm and practical, “How would we go about saving the date?”

Linda smiled knowingly. “Five hundred dollar deposit,” she said. “That holds the venue. The rest of the contract can be finalized later.”

Joel nodded once. Then he looked at you. For a second the room went quiet around you; Sarah twirling across the dance floor, the sunlight through the windows, the oak trees outside waiting patiently.

Joel moved his head slightly. “…Wanna get married here June twenty-eighth?”

You stared at him. The question landed so simply it almost took your breath away. Your eyes shone again, but this time you didn’t try to hide it. You laughed softly, a little overwhelmed.

“…I think I do.”

Joel smiled. And somewhere behind you Sarah shouted,

“IS THAT THE DAY I GET TO THROW FLOWERS?!”

Joel laughed softly. “Let’s close it then.”

Sarah gasped like she had just been handed a royal title. Joel shook his head, smiling despite himself. You wiped quickly under your eye, trying to regain some composure.

Linda opened the folder. “Well,” she said warmly, “let’s sit down for a moment and go over the details.”

You gathered around a small wooden desk near the entrance. Sarah immediately climbed onto a nearby chair and leaned over the paperwork like she was part of the negotiation.

Linda slid a simple contract across the table. “The deposit holds the date. After that we’ll set a planning meeting in a few weeks to go over vendors, seating layout, ceremony timing… all that good stuff.”

You nodded, reading through the page carefully. Joel watched you for a moment. Then glanced around the room again. The beams overhead. The windows looking out toward the trees. Sarah spinning slowly in the middle of the dance floor.

His wedding. Your wedding. The thought still felt surreal.

You looked up. “It all looks good.”

Linda slid a pen toward Joel. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Joel picked it up. He hesitated for half a second; not out of doubt, but out of the strange weight of the moment. Then he signed. You signed next.

Linda collected the papers with a pleased smile. “Well,” she said. “Congratulations.”

Sarah jumped off her chair. “WE HAVE A DATEEE!”

Linda laughed again. “I’ll send you the full planning packet later this week.”

Joel nodded. “Appreciate it.”

You stepped outside a few minutes later. The late afternoon light had turned warmer, filtering through the oak trees.

Sarah ran ahead across the lawn again. “I’M PRACTICING MY FLOWERS!”

You watched her go, still a little dazed.

Joel slipped his hand into yours. “…You okay?”

You looked up at him. Then out at the trees. Then back at him again. “We have a date.”

Joel nodded. “Yeah.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “This is happening.”

Joel squeezed your hand. “…Yeah.”

Sarah spun dramatically in the grass. “JUNE TWENTY-EIGHTH!”

*************

The house smelled like cinnamon, roasted ham, and something slightly burnt that you refused to admit had been the first batch of rolls. The sun had already set, and the Christmas lights Joel had hung along the porch a few weeks earlier glowed softly through the windows.

Inside was chaos, the good kind. Sarah had been buzzing since seven that morning. Between Santa arriving overnight and the fact that you and him were getting married, the girl had reached a level of excitement that bordered on nuclear.

She sprinted through the kitchen for the fourth time in ten minutes. “Do you think Santa will come before midnight?”

You didn’t even look up from the potatoes you were mashing. “No.”

“Why?”

“Because you plan on still being awake.”

“That’s unfair.”

Joel chuckled from the other side of the kitchen island where he was carving the ham. “You been askin’ that question every twenty minutes.”

Sarah leaned dramatically over the counter. “Well maybe the answer will change.”

You smirked. “It won’t.”

Sarah huffed and ran back toward the living room, where the tree lights blinked softly.

Joel watched her disappear. “…She’s gonna crash at like nine thirty.”

You laughed. “Absolutely.”

You wiped your hands on a towel and stepped over to check the table. It had taken you the better part of the afternoon to set everything up. Nothing too fancy… But nice enough. A red tablecloth Sarah had insisted on. Candles in the middle. Five plates already set. You adjusted one of the napkins slightly.

Joel noticed. “You’ve fixed that napkin three times.”

You didn’t even deny it. “It’s crooked.”

Joel walked over behind you, setting the carving knife down. “It ain’t crooked.”

You raised an eyebrow. “It absolutely is.”

Joel leaned closer, looking over your shoulder. “…Alright maybe a bit.”

You fixed it again. Then stepped back.

Joel slid his arms loosely around your waist from behind. “You nervous?”

You leaned back into him. “A little.”

Joel rested his chin on your shoulder. “She’s gonna like you.”

You laughed softly. “I’m not worried about Maria liking me.”

Joel looked at you, puzzled. “No?”

You turned slightly in his arms. “I’m worried about you two behaving like idiots.”

Joel looked offended. “We always behave like idiots.”

You smiled. “Exactly.”

From the living room Sarah shouted suddenly, “HEADLIGHTS!”

You straightened. “That must be them.”

Joel sighed quietly. “Well.” He grabbed two plates and started carrying them to the table. “Moment of truth.”

You glanced at the door. Tommy introducing a woman he was serious about... That alone felt historic.

Sarah ran into the kitchen again, nearly skidding across the floor. “THEY’RE HERE.”

You smoothed your sweater. Joel picked up the glasses. Sarah bounced in place like a loaded spring.

The doorbell rang. Sarah launched herself toward the front door like a hawk.

“I’LL GET IT!”

You and Joel exchanged a quick look.

“Careful,” you called after her.

Too late. The door was already flying open. Tommy stood on the porch, one hand tucked in the pocket of his jacket, looking suspiciously more put together than usual.

And beside him… Maria. She was tall, elegant in a way that made the small porch light seem suddenly inadequate. Deep brown skin, dark hair pulled back loosely at the nape of her neck, and a warm coat wrapped around her shoulders. There was something calm and confident about the way she stood there, even with Sarah staring up at her like she’d just discovered a celebrity.

Sarah’s mouth dropped open. “…Wow.”

Tommy sighed. “Kid.”

Maria laughed softly. “Hi.” Her voice was warm, smooth. 

Sarah recovered immediately. “You’re Maria.”

Maria crouched slightly so she was more at Sarah’s level. “And you must be Sarah.”

Sarah nodded very seriously. “I’m the flower girl.”

Tommy groaned. “Oh my God.”

Maria grinned. “Well that sounds like a very important job.”

Sarah beamed. From the kitchen, Joel stepped into the hallway and Tommy looked up.

“Hey.”

Joel took in the scene for half a second. Then he looked at Maria. She extended her hand.

“Maria.”

He shook it. “Joel.”

She smiled easily. “So you’re the infamous older brother.”

Joel narrowed his eyes slightly. “That what he’s been tellin’ you?”

Tommy immediately cut in. “I didn’t say infamous.”

Maria tilted her head with a playful smile. “I’m reserving judgment.”

Joel smirked. “…Fair enough.”

You appeared behind him a second later. The moment Maria stood up straight again, the two of you looked at each other. There was a brief pause. Then you stepped forward with a bright smile.

“Hey, I’m Juliet.”

Maria shook your hand warmly. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

You laughed. “I hope it was good.”

Maria glanced at Tommy. “Mostly.”

Tommy groaned again. “Y’all are brutal.”

Your eyes softened immediately. “We’re really glad you’re here.”

And it was true. Something about Maria’s presence filled the doorway naturally, like she belonged there already.

Joel also noticed the way Tommy was looking at her. Completely, hopelessly smitten. Joel had never, ever, seen his brother like that.

Maria stepped inside as Sarah grabbed her sleeve. “Come see the tree!”

Tommy blinked. “That was fast.”

You laughed and followed them toward the living room.

Joel clapped Tommy lightly on the shoulder as he passed. “…Good job.”

Tommy looked momentarily stunned. Then he glanced toward Maria again, smiling as Sarah showed her the Christmas lights on the tree.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Yeah, I think so.”

Maria laughed softly as Sarah dragged her closer to the tree.

“It’s beautiful.”

“I made this one,” Sarah said immediately, pointing at a crooked glitter star that had clearly survived several Christmases.

Maria leaned in to inspect it seriously. “That one is clearly the best.”

Sarah looked extremely satisfied. Behind them, Joel and Tommy stepped inside and shut the door.

You took Maria’s coat. “Let me take that.”

“Thank you.”

Tommy hovered awkwardly for a second like he wasn’t sure where to stand.

Joel noticed. “…Relax.”

Tommy shot him a look. “I am relaxed.”

Joel smirked. “You look like you’re about to testify in court.”

Tommy muttered something under his breath.

In the living room Sarah had already moved on to the next topic. “Do you celebrate Christmas?”

Maria nodded. “Of course.”

Sarah lowered her voice conspiratorially. “Santa’s coming tonight.”

Maria gasped dramatically. “Well then I’m glad I showed up.”

You laughed from the doorway. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

Sarah spun toward the kitchen. “FINALLY.”

Joel shook his head. “She’s been askin’ every five minutes.”

Maria smiled warmly. “I remember that age.”

You all drifted toward the table. The candles you had lit flickered softly against the red tablecloth, and the smell of the ham filled the room now.

Maria paused when she saw the spread. “Oh wow.”

You waved it off. “It’s nothing fancy.”

Tommy scoffed. “You should see what she calls fancy.”

You elbowed him lightly. Joel pulled out a chair for Maria. 

“Thank you.”

Tommy looked at Joel suspiciously.

Joel shrugged. “What.”

You sat. Sarah immediately started talking again.

“So the wedding is in June.”

Maria looked toward Joel and Juliet with interest. “Oh?”

Joel nodded. “Twenty-eighth.”

Maria smiled. “That’s wonderful.”

Sarah leaned forward across the table. “I’m the flower girl.”

Maria looked impressed. “That’s a very prestigious role.”

Tommy muttered, “She’s been reminding us.”

Joel caught Tommy watching Maria again. The look on his brother’s face said everything. Joel leaned back in his chair slightly.

“…So,” he said casually. “How’d you two meet again?”

Tommy groaned immediately. “Joel.”

Maria smiled slowly. “Oh no,” she said. “I like this story.”

Tommy rubbed a hand over his face. “Of course you do.”

You leaned forward on your elbows, already entertained. “Please tell me he made a fool of himself.”

Maria tilted her head thoughtfully. “Well… yes.”

Sarah gasped in delight.

Tommy pointed at Maria. “You are absolutely not telling this right.”

Maria ignored him completely. “We first met about a year ago,” she said, taking a sip of her drink.

You leaned forward immediately. “Oh I need this story.”

Tommy sighed. “…Why.”

Maria ignored him. “I had just come out of the courthouse after a hearing,” she said, “and he was standing near the steps.” She nodded toward Tommy. “Arguing with a parking meter.”

Sarah blinked. “…What?”

Joel barked a laugh. “Sounds right.”

Tommy lifted a hand defensively. “That thing ate two dollars!”

Maria continued calmly. “He kicked it.”

You clapped a hand over your mouth. “Oh my God.”

“It was justified,” Tommy replied, outraged.

Maria went on. “When he noticed me watching, he immediately straightened up and leaned against the railing like he’d been standing there the whole time looking cool.” Maria chuckled. “He asked if I worked at the courthouse.”

You shook your head. “That was the opening line?”

Tommy threw his hands up. “It was a reasonable question!”

Maria nodded thoughtfully. “Very smooth.” She continued. “When I said yes, he said-”

Tommy groaned. “…Don’t.”

Maria finished the sentence anyway. “Well then I better behave myself.”

Joel snorted.

“So I asked him what he was doing there.” Maria continued.

Tommy muttered, “I had business.”

Maria turned to you. “He did, but he’d been done for a while.”

You leaned back in your chair. “So what was he doing there?”

Maria smiled faintly. “Waiting for someone from the permit office, apparently.”

Joel nodded slowly. “That actually checks out.”

Tommy slammed the table with his hand. “Thank you.”

Maria continued. “Then he tried to ask what kind of cases I worked on.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh no.”

Maria nodded. “He guessed… traffic court.” She smiled sweetly. “So I told him he clearly had no idea what he was talking about.”

Tommy rubbed a hand over his face.

“And then,” Maria continued calmly, “he said, and I quote-” She glanced at him. 

Tommy already knew what was coming. “…Maria-”

“-‘Darlin’, come on. Let me take you out for a night you’ll never forget.’”

You slapped a hand over your mouth. “Oh my God, Tommy!”

Maria shrugged lightly. “So I told him he was full of shit.”

Sarah’s eyes went wide. “You said that?”

Maria blinked, suddenly remembering her audience. “Oh, sorry,” she said quickly, glancing at Joel. “I shouldn’t say that word in front of you.”

Sarah waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t worry.” Then she nodded toward Joel very matter-of-factly. “Dad says it all the time when he drops stuff.”

Joel nearly choked on his drink. “Sarah.”

Tommy burst out laughing.

“Tommy Miller,” you said between breaths, “did you really use darlin’ as your opening move?”

Tommy threw his hands up. “It’s a classic!”

Joel shook his head. “It’s a horrible cliché.”

Maria smiled innocently. “I told him that too.”

Sarah looked between them, fascinated. “And then what happened?”

Maria took another sip of her drink. “Then I walked away.”

Tommy muttered under his breath, “Without even givin’ me a chance.”

You leaned toward Maria conspiratorially. “And yet here you are.”

Maria glanced sideways at Tommy, her smile softening just a little. “…He’s persistent.”

You leaned forward eagerly. “So you saw him again.”

Maria nodded. “Several times.” She said. “The permit office is two blocks from the courthouse.”

Tommy shrugged. “I had paperwork!”

Maria nodded. “He did.” Then she added, “Every time we ran into each other, he tried a new approach.”

Sarah leaned forward. “What kind?”

Maria thought for a moment. “One time he brought coffee and said it was a peace offering for ‘the full of shit incident.’” Maria continued. “Another time he tried to guess my job again.”

Joel winced. “Don’t tell me.”

Maria nodded. “He guessed divorce lawyer.”

You dropped your head on the table laughing. “Oh my God.”

Tommy defended himself. “Statistically it was a good guess!”

Maria looked at him. “You also guessed I might be a bailiff.”

Tommy muttered, “I was narrowing it down.”

Maria’s smile softened slightly then. “We kept running into each other for months.”

Joel noticed the way Tommy looked at her when she said that.

Then Maria added quietly, “And then one day I saw him again.”

Tommy nodded once. “After rehab.”

Maria glanced at him. “This time he didn’t try to be charming.”

Tommy shrugged. “Wasn’t in the mood.”

Maria smiled. “He just said hello.”

A small pause settled around the table.

“And that worked?” you asked.

Maria nodded. “Turns out,” she said lightly, “he’s much better when he stops trying so hard.”

Tommy looked down at his plate, shaking his head. “…I hate this story.”

Sarah grinned. “Uncle Tommy, you were flirting wrong.”

Joel clapped him on the back. “Took you a year, but you got there.”

For a moment the table fell quiet in that comfortable way that only happens when something sincere lands.

Then Sarah suddenly bolted out of her chair. “OH, I KNOW.”

Everyone looked at her. Joel shook his head. “Know what.”

She ran toward the hallway. “WAIT.”

You frowned. “…Where is she going?”

Joel shrugged. “No idea.”

Sarah returned thirty seconds later at full speed holding something in her hand. A cream-colored envelope. She ran straight up to Maria and held it out proudly.

“You can have the first one.”

Maria stared at it. “…What is it?”

Sarah shoved it closer. “The wedding invitation.”

Tommy choked on his drink. You looked like you had completely forgotten those existed.

Maria hesitated slightly. “Oh- I don’t want to assume…”

You waved the concern away instantly. “Assume? Of course you’re invited!” Your answer came instantly, warm and certain, your hand already reaching across the table toward Maria as if the invitation itself had simply made official something you had already decided the moment Tommy walked through the door with her. “You’re Tommy’s girlfriend,” you said, almost incredulous with happiness. “That’s huge.”

Tommy, who had been leaning back in his chair with the satisfied look of a man enjoying the show, cleared his throat slowly. “…We actually haven’t had that talk yet.”

The effect was immediate. You froze mid-gesture, your hand still hovering above the table. Maria’s eyebrows rose in mild surprise, her fingers still lightly holding the envelope Sarah had pressed into them.

And for a full second the entire table went quiet. Juliet blinked once. Then once again.

“Oh my God.” You leaned back in your chair and pressed a hand over your forehead, mortified. “I am so sorry. I just assumed, I shouldn’t have assumed-”

Across from you, Tommy watched the panic unfold with growing amusement, his mouth twitching like he was fighting a losing battle not to laugh. He let the moment stretch just long enough to be cruel. Then he broke and laughed out loud.

“I’m kidding,” he said, grinning now. “Of course we’ve had that talk.”

You slowly lowered your hand from your face. You stared at him for a full second. Then another. 

“…I hate you.”

Tommy laughed again.

Maria shook her head, smiling softly as she slid the envelope onto the table in front of her. “Well,” she said warmly. “I’d be honored to come.”

Tommy leaned back in his chair, watching Maria with that same quietly amazed look. 

Dinner settled into the kind of warmth that only happens when a house is full of people who are slowly realizing they belong in the same room together.

The food helped. Joel passed plates around while Sarah narrated the entire process like a sports commentator.

“And this,” she said importantly, pointing at the mashed potatoes, “is Juliet’s recipe.”

You raised an eyebrow. “It’s not my recipe.”

Sarah ignored her. “And the ham was cooked by Dad but supervised by Juliet because Dad burns things sometimes.”

Joel looked offended. “I do not burn things.”

Tommy immediately chimed in. “You burned toast last week.”

“That was the toaster.”

Maria laughed softly into her glass. Sarah leaned across the table toward Maria again, still buzzing with the excitement of Christmas Eve and wedding plans.

“So if you come to the wedding,” she said seriously, “you’ll see me throw flowers.”

Maria nodded with equal seriousness. “I’m looking forward to that part.”

Sarah brightened. “Good.”

You caught Joel watching the two of them and smiled slightly.

Across the table, the conversation slowly drifted into familiar territory. Work. Maria mentioned a case she had been dealing with that week.

Your eyes immediately lit up. “Was that the zoning dispute downtown?”

“You know about that?”

You nodded. “I heard rumors from someone in civil litigation.”

Maria leaned forward slightly, intrigued now. “Well the city attorney tried to argue nuisance restrictions under the commercial code-”

You groaned. “Of course they did.”

Joel glanced between them. “…Are they speaking English?”

Tommy shook his head slowly. “Not anymore.”

The two of you were fully in it now, exchanging half-finished sentences and legal jargon with the speed of people who had both spent too many hours inside courtrooms.

“…and then the judge actually let the motion stand,” Maria was saying.

You laughed in disbelief. “No way.”

“Oh, yes.”

Joel leaned closer to Tommy. “…Should we be worried.”

Tommy shrugged. “Probably.”

Sarah looked back and forth between them. “…I don’t understand anything they’re saying.”

Joel nodded. “Welcome to the club.”

But Maria and you both noticed the looks and laughed, easing the conversation back toward normal. The night kept unfolding like that. Stories. Laughter. Sarah insisting Maria see every ornament on the tree.

At one point Joel caught Tommy watching Maria while she talked with you and Sarah, that same quiet, amazed look still there.

Joel nudged him under the table. “…You’re starin’.”

Tommy muttered, “Shut up.” But he was smiling.

By the time dessert appeared (apple pie you had picked up from a bakery that morning) the room had settled into something easy and comfortable.

Maria fit. Not in the polite guest way. In the natural way. Like she’d simply stepped into an empty space that had been waiting for her.

Later, when the plates had been cleared and Sarah had curled herself into one corner of the couch under a blanket, determined to stay awake through a Christmas movie she was already losing against, you slipped quietly out onto the back porch for a moment of air. He followed you and saw Tommy was already there, and heard you two mid-conversation.

“Tommy Miller.”

Joel saw Tommy already brace himself. “…What about him?”

You folded your arms, smiling. “Mister never-call-a-girl-twice.”

Tommy groaned. “Oh, come on.”

“The man who used to disappear the second things got complicated.”

“That was years ago.”

You leaned closer, enjoying yourself now. “I never thought I’d see the day.”

Tommy glanced sideways. “What day.”

Your smile softened. “You. In love.”

For a moment Tommy didn’t answer. He looked through the window instead, toward Maria sitting with Sarah, listening like whatever Sarah was explaining about wedding aisles and flower petals was somehow the most important conversation in Texas.

Then Tommy scratched the back of his neck. “…I dunno if I’d call it that.” He exhaled. “Well.” A small shrug. “Not in love.” Another glance through the glass. “…Maybe gettin’ there.”

Joel looked down briefly, hiding the smile that came before he could stop it.

You saw it too, apparently. “Yeah,” you said softly. “Thought so.”

Tommy’s voice changed a little. “You know, I never properly thanked you.”

You frowned. “What’re you talking about?”

“The therapy. Getting my life straight. Meeting her again.” His eyes stayed on the window. “Wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t pushed me when you did.”

You shook your head immediately. “You did the hard part.”

“Still.”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward, it was full. Then Tommy stepped forward and pulled you into a hug. Solid and immediate.

Joel watched you freeze for half a second in surprise before hugging him back just as tightly.

“…Thank you,” Tommy said quietly.

“You’re family,” you answered, as simple as breathing.

Tommy let out a breath that almost sounded embarrassed by itself. “…You’re gonna make me emotional.”

You smiled. “That would be a Christmas miracle.”

Tommy rolled his eyes, but the grin stayed.

At that point Joel finally pushed the door open fully. “Boy, if you start cryin’, I’m gettin’ a camera.”

Both of you turned. Tommy glared instantly. “You been standin’ there spyin’?”

Joel stepped out onto the porch, unbothered. “Came to see if my fiancée was freezing.”

You smiled immediately at that word; still new enough to do that every time. “I’m fine.”

Tommy pointed at Joel. “You heard nothin’.”

Joel leaned beside you. “Heard enough.”

Tommy muttered something under his breath. 

Inside, Sarah suddenly shouted: “MARIA, YOU HAVE TO SEE THIS ONE!”

You laughed and looked through the window. “She’s adopted her already.”

Tommy shook his head, still staring inside. “Ten minutes.”

Joel looked through the glass too. Maria laughing on the rug. Sarah explaining life like she ran the world. Warm light everywhere.

“Kids know,” Joel said with a smile.

Tommy glanced sideways at him. “You really think so?”

Joel nodded toward the living room.

Tommy nudged his arm. “Come on. Before you eat the rest of the pie without asking.”

Joel looked offended. “I was savin’ that pie.”

Tommy snorted. “Liar.”

****************

Joel woke slowly, the way he did on rare mornings when the house was quiet and no one had jumped on him yet.

For a moment he just lay there, warm under the blankets, one arm stretched across the mattress.

You were already awake. Which, in itself, was suspicious. You were sitting cross-legged, back in the headboard, hair messy, wearing one of his old T-shirts and looking… ridiculously pleased with yourself. Just sitting there. Grinning.

Joel squinted at you. “…Why are you lookin’ like that.”

You bit your lip, trying, and failing, to suppress the smile. “I just realized something.”

Joel groaned softly and rolled onto his back. “That’s dangerous.”

You nudged his shoulder with your foot. “Last Christmas not being an official Miller,” you said.

Joel stared at once. Something warm and deep shifted in his chest. Then it shifted lower. His gaze dropped briefly to your bare legs where they disappeared under the oversized shirt. He felt himself getting instantly hard.

He exhaled. “…Jesus.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Instead of answering, Joel grabbed you by the waist and pulled you down onto the mattress.

You yelped, laughing as he landed on top of you. “Joel-!”

He kissed you before you could finish the sentence, one hand sliding to the back of your neck while the other pulled you closer against him.

You laughed against his mouth. “Oh wow,” you murmured. “That’s quite the reaction to my last name.”

“You started it,” he muttered. His mouth found your neck, and you tipped your head back automatically, fingers tangling in his hair.

“Joel-”

His hand slid along your thigh, getting inside your panties.

You laughed breathlessly. “We are absolutely about to be interrupted.”

“Worth it.”

You kissed him again, deeper this time, clearly not arguing the point. And right on cue… 

“DAD, JULIET!!!”

Both of you froze. From the living room came the unmistakable sound of Sarah running across the floor.

“SANTA’S COME!”

You burst out laughing into Joel’s shoulder.

Joel groaned and dropped his forehead against the pillow. “…Kid’s got impeccable timing.”

“DAD! JULIET! PRESENTS!”

You slid off the bed, still laughing, and tugged his arm. “Come on, Miller.”

Joel sat up slowly, rubbing a hand over his face. “…We were having a moment.”

You grinned. “You can finish that moment later.”

Sarah’s footsteps thundered closer. “ARE YOU COMING?!”

Joel stood, grabbed you by the waist again for one quick kiss. “…This ain’t over.”

You laughed and pushed him toward the door. “Let’s go before she breaks the house down.”

And a second later you were both heading toward the living room, where Sarah was vibrating with excitement.

She sat cross-legged in front of the tree, practically vibrating. “Okay okay okay okay.”

You dropped onto the couch beside Joel, still laughing from the mad dash out of bed. “Start with the stocking.”

Sarah didn’t need to be told twice. She reached in and began pulling things out one after another. Candy cane, chocolate coins, a tiny puzzle…

“Oh!” She held up a small pack of markers. “The good ones!”

Joel leaned against the doorframe with his coffee. “Santa knows quality.”

Sarah dug deeper. “More chocolate!”

You  laughed. “Careful. You’ll explode before breakfast.”

“I will not.”

She ripped open the first wrapped present next. Paper flew everywhere. Inside was a big art set; sketchbooks, colored pencils, a proper drawing kit she’d been eyeing in the store for weeks. She froze for a second. Then looked up slowly.

“Whoa.”

Joel shrugged like it was nothing. “You said you wanted better ones.”

Sarah looked like someone had handed her the moon. “These are amazing.”

She launched herself at him.

Joel barely caught her. “Hey-”

“Thank you!”

He hugged her back, a little awkwardly. “…Yeah.”

You watched them with a soft smile.

Sarah pulled away and immediately grabbed another gift. “Okay, now you guys.”

You laughed. “Bossy.”

Sarah handed Joel a small box first.

Joel frowned. “I didn’t ask for anything.”

“Too bad.”

He unwrapped it carefully. Inside was a watch. Simple. Solid but elegant. The kind that would survive being knocked against wood beams and toolboxes for the next twenty years.

Joel turned it in his hand slowly. “…Well I’ll be.”

Sarah leaned forward eagerly. “Do you like it?”

Joel slipped it onto his wrist, testing the weight. “…Yeah.” He glanced at you. “Real nice.”

You leaned over and kissed his cheek. “About time you had something that told time.”

Joel smirked. “I got the sun.”

Sarah rolled her eyes. “Dad.”

Then she handed you a larger box.

You looked puzzled. “What did you two do.”

Joel leaned back against the couch. “Open it.”

You peeled the paper back slowly. Inside was a coat. A beautiful dark wool coat; elegant, warm, with a cut you’d stopped to admire in a shop window weeks earlier. You had looked at the price tag. Then shaken your head. Then walked away. You went completely still. Your fingers ran slowly over the fabric.

“…Joel.”

Joel grinned. “You liked it.”

Your voice softened. “It was too expensive.”

He shrugged. “Christmas.”

You blinked quickly. “You went back and got it.”

Joel nodded once. Sarah watched the whole thing like it was a movie.

You stood up, walked over, and wrapped your arms around him. “Thank you.”

Joel hugged you back. “…Looks better on you than in that window anyway.”

Sarah grinned. “Okay that was romantic.”

Joel looked at her. “Don’t start.”

Sarah got a hug too and then leaned back on the floor again, pleased. She settled back among the torn wrapping paper and ribbon like a satisfied cat, already reaching for the next candy cane from her stocking while Joel adjusted the new watch on his wrist again, still getting used to the weight of it.

You sat back down beside him, the coat folded neatly across your lap, though every few seconds your fingers brushed over the fabric again like you still couldn’t quite believe it was yours.

For a moment the room was quiet except for the soft crackle of the Christmas tree lights and Sarah humming something under her breath while she examined one of her new toys.

Then Joel cleared his throat. “…Hey.”

You looked up. “What?”

Joel leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. For a second he looked almost… unsure of himself. Then he reached behind him toward the side table.

“I got somethin’ else for you.”

You blinked. “Joel-”

“It ain’t a big thing,” he muttered quickly. “Just… figured you might want it.”

He handed you a much smaller box. Not wrapped. Just a simple little jewelry case.

You looked at it, confused. “What’s this?”

Joel shrugged a shoulder. “Open it.”

You lifted the lid. Inside, resting against dark velvet, were a pair of earrings. Gold and pearl. Elegant, a little long, the kind of piece that felt timeless without trying too hard. Old-fashioned in the best possible way.

Your breath caught. “…Joel.”

“They were my mom’s,” he said quietly. “Tommy and I went through her things a while back. We split a few pieces. He took the bracelet she used to wear all the time.”

You looked back down at the earrings, your fingers hovering over them but not quite touching yet.

Joel went on, a little awkwardly. “I just thought… maybe… if you wanted… you could wear ’em for the wedding.” He glanced at you quickly. “No pressure or anything. Just figured you might like having somethin’ like that. Somethin’ old.”

You didn’t answer right away. Instead you picked one up carefully, turning it in the light the way Joel had done with the watch earlier. The pearl caught the glow from the Christmas tree, soft and warm.

Your eyes were shining when you looked back at him. “They’re beautiful.”

Joel shifted in his seat. “Yeah, well… my mom had good taste.”

You leaned forward and kissed him. Slow. Soft. 

“Thank you,” you murmured.

Joel cleared his throat again, clearly trying not to look too affected. “Don’t make a big deal outta it.”

Too late. Sarah had been watching the entire exchange like a courtroom drama.

“Are those the wedding earrings?” she asked immediately.

You laughed softly. “They might be.”

Sarah nodded very seriously, as though she had just approved an important architectural decision. “Good. They look fancy.”

Joel snorted. “Well that settles it then.”

****************

Joel checked the clock on the microwave again and let out a quiet breath through his nose.

“Alright,” he called toward the staircase, raising his voice just enough to carry upstairs. “We’re leavin’ in ten minutes.”

Then Sarah’s voice floated down. “Fifteen!”

Joel squinted toward the ceiling. “That is not how time works.”

No response.

He shook his head and grabbed his keys from the counter, turning them once in his hand while the house hummed with the low, comfortable noise of the evening; the heater clicking on and off, music drifting faintly from Sarah’s room upstairs, footsteps moving somewhere overhead.

New Year’s Eve had never been a big event for him. Three years ago he’d spent New Year’s Eve working late on a job site and eating takeout in front of the TV. He hadn’t minded. Or at least he’d told himself he didn’t.

Now the night felt different. Bill and Frank had invited you for dinner. Annie would be there, and you were picking Tommy up on the way. Nothing fancy, just the small group of people who had somehow become their family over the last couple of years.

Joel glanced up toward the stairs again. “Sarah!”

“I’m coming!”

“You said that five minutes ago!”

Joel leaned one hip against the kitchen counter, listening as the house carried the small sounds of people getting ready upstairs.

The last year had changed more than he would have expected. Your presence had worked its way into every corner of the house without ever feeling forced. Your coat hung beside his near the door. Your books had claimed half the living room shelves. Your coffee mug seemed to appear wherever he happened to be standing.

And he still found himself reaching for you without thinking; a hand on your back when you passed him in the kitchen, pulling you into a quick kiss while you were talking about something else entirely.

Two years in and it hadn’t worn off. If anything it had settled deeper. He heard the bedroom door open upstairs and your voice drift down the hallway.

“Sarah, where are your shoes?”

“By the door!”

Joel looked down. The shoes were not by the door. He nudged them into place with the side of his boot just as Sarah appeared at the top of the stairs wearing a sweater that looked suspiciously oversized and the determined expression of someone absolutely planning to stay awake until midnight.

“See?” she said as she came down. “Ready.”

Joel raised an eyebrow. “You forgot your coat.”

Sarah stopped halfway across the living room. “…I knew that.”

She turned and ran back upstairs. Joel chuckled under his breath. A moment later you appeared at the top of the staircase, pulling your new coat on as you came down.

“You know she’s not sleeping before midnight,” you said.

Joel nodded. “I figured she’ll try.”

You stepped into the kitchen light and Joel’s gaze settled on you automatically. Your hair was pulled back loosely, and the flannel you wore looked suspiciously like one of his.

He reached out and caught your sleeve, pulling you a step closer without thinking about it. His right hand cradled your face, softly.

You looked up at him, amused. “What.”

Joel studied you for a moment. “Nothin’. Just lookin’ at you.”

You smiled. “That’s suspicious.”

Joel shrugged. “Probably.”

Before you could say anything else, Sarah came flying down the stairs again, coat half-zipped and hair slightly crooked from rushing.

“Okay now I’m ready!”

Joel pushed himself off the counter and grabbed his keys. “Good,” he said. Then he opened the front door and glanced back at them. “Let’s go.”

You slipped your hand into his as you stepped out into the cool evening air.

“First stop,” you said, “Tommy.”

Joel nodded as he headed toward the truck.

**************

“Do you think Uncle Tommy is ready yet?”

Joel kept his eyes on the road. “He better be.”

You, beside him, smiled faintly and reached back to tug Sarah’s scarf straight.

“Relax,” you said. “We’re early.”

You pulled up in front of Tommy’s small house a few minutes later. The porch light was already on, and Tommy stepped out the front door as the truck rolled to a stop, pulling on his jacket.

He climbed into the back seat, bringing a gust of cold air with him. “Evenin’, degenerates.”

Sarah twisted around immediately. “Uncle Tommy!”

Tommy grinned and ruffled her hair. “Hey, kid.”

Joel pulled away from the curb. “You ready or we gotta circle the block while you finish gettin’ dressed.”

Tommy kicked the back of Joel’s seat lightly. “I was outside before you even parked.”

You glanced back at him. “You look suspiciously put together.”

Tommy shrugged. “Tryin’ to make a good impression on respectable company.”

Joel snorted. “Little late for that.”

They drove for a few minutes in comfortable silence before Sarah turned again in her seat.

Eventually you glanced back at him. “So,”you said. “How was Christmas at Maria’s?”

Tommy leaned his head back against the seat. “Good,” he said. “Real good.”

Joel glanced at him briefly. “Yeah?”

Tommy nodded. “Big family. Loud. Lotta food.” He scratched the back of his neck. “Her mom kept tryin’ to feed me like I hadn’t eaten in a year.”

You laughed. “That means she liked you.”

“Oh she liked me,” Tommy said. “That wasn’t the problem.”

Joel raised an eyebrow. “What was the problem.”

Tommy looked at him in the rearview mirror. “…Her dad.”

Sarah perked up instantly. “Was he scary?”

Tommy exhaled through his nose. “Let’s just say… the man shook my hand like he was testin’ if I’d break.”

Joel laughed. “Sounds familiar.”

Tommy pointed forward. “That’s what I’m sayin’. Guy’s almost as scary as Bill.”

You laughed too. “Oh please. No one is as scary as Bill.”

From the back seat Tommy considered that. “…Yeah,” he admitted. “You might be right.”

Sarah twisted around again. “Did he like you?”

Tommy hesitated. Then he shrugged. “I think so.”

You smiled knowingly. “That means he did.”

Tommy looked out the window for a second, clearly replaying something in his head. “…At one point he asked what my intentions were.”

Joel burst out laughing. “Oh man.”

Tommy pointed at him again. “Don’t you start. I survived it.”

Sarah gasped dramatically. “What did you say?”

Tommy rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. “…I said I was takin’ things slow.”

You turned halfway around in your seat. “That was actually the correct answer.”

Joel nodded. “Miracle.”

Sarah giggled.

By the time you pulled into Bill and Frank’s driveway, the sky had gone fully dark, the trees around the property dotted with warm yellow lights Frank had strung along the fence and porch rails. The house itself glowed warmly from the inside, the windows bright against the cool December night.

Joel cut the engine and you all climbed out, the cool air making Sarah bounce on her toes for a second before she hurried up the short path to the porch.

Tommy shook his head as he followed. “Kid moves like she’s late for somethin’.”

“She’s late for midnight,” you said, smiling.

Inside, the house was warm and smelled like something incredible. Bill stood near the kitchen island with a drink in his hand while Frank moved between the stove and the counter, clearly finishing the last touches of dinner. Annie was setting down a bowl on the table when you walked in.

“Well look at that,” Frank said, turning toward them. “Perfect timing.”

Sarah immediately wrapped Annie in a hug. “Hi!”

Bill eyed her. “You planning to make it to midnight?”

Sarah lifted her chin. “Obviously.”

Joel snorted softly as he shrugged off his coat. “We’ll see about that.”

You all settled around the table soon after, the meal already laid out; a brisket Bill had been working on all afternoon, roasted vegetables, potatoes, bread, and a salad Annie insisted made the whole thing respectable.

Conversation started easily, the way it always did here. Tommy told Bill about Christmas at Maria’s family house while Frank asked questions that sounded suspiciously like mild interrogation. Annie laughed quietly and passed dishes down the table while you filled everyone’s glasses.

Joel sat beside you, his chair angled slightly toward you without him noticing. At some point during dinner his hand found yours under the table, fingers resting loosely around yours while he listened to Tommy’s story. He didn’t seem aware he’d done it.

Sarah talked almost as much as Tommy, which was saying something. She described her Christmas presents again, asked Frank how fireworks actually worked, and declared she was definitely staying awake until midnight this time.

Bill gave her a long look. “You say that every year.”

“This year I mean it.”

Joel leaned back slightly in his chair. “She’s got determination.”

“She’s got about ten-thirty, tops,” Tommy said.

Sarah pointed her fork at him. “Rude.”

You laughed softly beside Joel. When you leaned forward to grab the bread basket, his hand slid automatically to the small of your back for a second before returning to the table. 

Dinner carried on easily after that; Bill and Frank debating something about tools, Tommy occasionally stirring the pot just to see what would happen, Sarah trying very hard to look wide awake even when her blinks were getting slower.

It was the kind of evening that didn’t need much effort; warm food, familiar voices, the soft hum of the house around them. In a short while, the brisket had been carved down to almost nothing, the roasted vegetables were disappearing quickly, and the bread basket had already made two full rounds of the table.

Tommy was halfway through telling another version of his Christmas-at-Maria’s-family story when Frank interrupted him.

“You left out the part where her aunt grilled you about your job for twenty minutes.”

Tommy groaned. “She was nice about it.”

Bill snorted. “No one interrogates politely.”

Joel chuckled quietly beside you. His hand rested loosely around the back of your chair, his fingers brushing absentmindedly against your shoulder every now and then as the conversation moved around you.

You leaned slightly into him when you laughed at something Frank said, and Joel automatically turned his head toward you, smiling faintly without even realizing it.

At the far end of the table Annie watched you two for a moment, amused, before returning her attention to the conversation.

Eventually the plates were mostly empty and Frank stood to gather a few dishes. “Dessert in a minute,” he announced.

“No rush,” Bill said, leaning back slightly in his chair.

Frank disappeared briefly into the kitchen and came back holding a small envelope. He didn’t say anything at first. He just walked around the table and set it gently in front of you.

You looked down at it, puzzled. “What’s this?”

Frank gave a small shrug. “Something for you two.”

Joel frowned slightly. “You didn’t have to-”

“Open it,” Bill said.

You glanced at Joel, then slid a finger under the flap and opened the envelope. You pulled out a folded sheet of paper. For a second you didn’t say anything. Then your eyes widened.

“Wait…”

Joel leaned slightly toward you. “What?”

You turned the paper so he could see.

Joel stared at it. “…You’re kidding.”

Frank leaned casually against the counter. “Nope.”

You looked back at the paper again. “Hawaii?”

Bill cleared his throat.

“Ten days,” Frank added.

You blinked. “You-”

Joel looked at them both. “You bought us a honeymoon?”

Bill shrugged like it was no big deal. “Well,” he said, “you two were talkin’ about skipping it and doing that little San Francisco weekend instead.”

Your eyes softened. “That was just because weddings are expensive.”

Frank waved a hand. “Exactly.”

Bill took a slow sip of his drink before speaking again. “You mentioned once,” he said, glancing toward you, “that if you ever got married you always pictured a honeymoon there.”

You stared at him. “I said that when I was like sixteen.”

Bill shrugged. “You’re my goddaughter. Still remembered.”

For a moment the table went quiet. Your eyes were suspiciously bright now. Joel was still looking at the paper like he wasn’t sure it was real.

Tommy leaned back in his chair slowly. “…Wow, Bill...” He looked at Bill. “…Was that…” He squinted slightly. “…Sentimental?”

Bill didn’t even look at him. “Don’t start.”

Tommy looked around the table.b“I think that was sentimental.”

Frank smirked. “You’re ruining the moment.”

You finally laughed softly, shaking your head a little.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, moving to give them a hug.

Joel nodded once beside her, still a little stunned. “…Yeah,” he added. “That’s… real generous.”

Bill waved it off with one hand. “You’re family. And you deserve it.”

Tommy leaned toward Joel. “You better take her somewhere nice after that.”

Joel glanced at you. “Think I got the message.”

Sarah, who had been staring at the paper upside down from her seat, suddenly looked up. “Wait.” She pointed. “So you’re going to Hawaii?”

You smiled at her. “Looks like it.”

Sarah’s eyes widened. “That’s way cooler than San Francisco.”

Bill smirked. “Kid’s got taste.”

The conversation slowly picked back up after that, dessert appearing a few minutes later while the warmth of the moment lingered quietly around the table.

And Joel, still holding your hand under the table, felt like the luckiest man in Texas.

***************

The last minute before midnight always felt longer than it really was. You had all drifted out into the yard together, coats pulled tighter against the cold. Frank stood near the small lineup of fireworks he had arranged near the fence, lighter already in hand. Bill hovered nearby in the supervisory role he seemed to believe he’d invented.

Tommy stood with Sarah, who was buzzing now with a second wind that had appeared out of nowhere.

Joel leaned against the porch railing beside you. Without thinking about it, his arm had settled around your waist again, pulling you lightly against his side. You slipped your hand into the front of his coat, fingers curling into the fabric of his sweater.

Frank glanced at his watch. “Thirty seconds.”

Bill raised his voice. “Alright!”

Everyone gathered a little closer together in the yard. Joel’s hand found yours almost automatically. Your fingers laced together easily, like they had a hundred times before.

Bill began counting. “Ten!”

Sarah jumped a little as she joined in. “NINE!”

Tommy’s voice carried across the yard. “EIGHT!”

You squeezed Joel’s hand.

“SEVEN!”

Joel looked down at you then, properly. The porch light caught the soft lines of your face, your breath faint in the cool air, the way your eyes were already smiling before midnight had even arrived.

“SIX!”

Frank crouched near the fireworks.

“FIVE!”

You tipped your head back slightly to look up at him.

“FOUR!”

Joel felt that familiar warmth move through his chest again, the same quiet certainty that had been there all year.

“THREE!”

He lifted his free hand and brushed a stray strand of hair back behind your ear.

“TWO!”

Sarah shouted the number like it was a victory cry.

“ONE!”

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

At that exact moment Frank lit the first fuse. The rocket screamed into the sky and exploded above you in a burst of bright gold and red, scattering sparks across the dark Texas night.

But Joel didn’t see it. He had already pulled you closer. His hand slid to the back of your neck as he kissed you. The kind of kiss that made the rest of the world fade out for a second.

You laughed softly into it at first, surprised, your hands moving up into his coat to hold onto him. Then you leaned into him fully, kissing him back with the kind of warmth that had nothing to do with fireworks or celebrations.

Behind you the sky cracked open again with another explosion of light. Someone, probably Tommy, shouted something about the next rocket. Sarah whooped somewhere nearby.

Joel barely noticed. He rested his forehead against yours for a moment after the kiss, 

“Happy New Year,” he murmured quietly.

You smiled up at him, eyes bright. “Happy New Year.”

Another firework burst above you, painting the yard in flashes of blue and gold.

Then Sarah’s voice cut through the moment. “I MADE IT!”

Joel laughed under his breath and pulled you a little closer against his side as the fireworks kept lighting up the sky.

PART 12: THE QUESTION (2/2)

Saturday evening came faster than Joel would have liked. The ring had been in his pocket all afternoon. Left pocket. Checked. Right pocket. Checked again. Then back to the left pocket because the right pocket felt… irresponsible.

Now he stood in the living room pretending to straighten his watch while his fingers kept drifting back to the inside of his jacket. Still there. Good.

Across the room Tommy sat on the couch flipping through channels he wasn’t actually watching.

Sarah stood on the coffee table like a tiny fashion critic, studying Joel with alarming seriousness.

“…You look weird.”

Joel frowned at her. “I do not.”

“You do,” she insisted. “You keep patting yourself.”

Joel froze.

Tommy didn’t even look away from the TV. “He’s checking the ring.”

Joel shot him a glare. “Lower your voice.”

Sarah gasped. “You lost it?!”

“I did not lose it.”

Tommy chuckled. “He’s checked his pocket like twelve times.”

Joel muttered something under his breath and checked it again anyway. Still there. Good.

Sarah hopped down from the coffee table and walked over to him, hands behind her back. She looked him up and down. Then she nodded once.

“You look handsome, dad.”

Joel blinked. “…Yeah?”

She shrugged. “Juliet’s gonna like it.”

Joel exhaled slowly. “…Thanks.”

It helped. A little.

Tommy stretched his arms along the back of the couch. “You look like a man walking to the electric chair.”

Joel ignored him.

Tommy kept going. “You’re sweating.”

“I am not sweating.”

“You are absolutely sweating.”

Joel wiped his palms on his pants.

Tommy smirked. “See.”

Joel opened his mouth to respond… And then the sound of footsteps came from the stairs. Everyone turned.

You appeared at the top of the staircase. Joel forgot how to breathe. You were wearing a dress he’d never seen before. Deep red. Simple but elegant, the fabric falling softly around you as you came down the steps.

Your hair was loose. No work clothes. No hurried ponytail. Just you. Beautiful in a way that hit him straight in the chest. Joel stood there staring like someone had unplugged his brain.

Sarah whispered, “…Whoa.”

Tommy let out a low whistle.

You reached the bottom step and looked between the three of them. “What?”

Sarah pointed. “You look like a movie star.”

You laughed. “Well that’s a first.”

Then your eyes moved to Joel. And you stopped smiling for a second. Because Joel was still staring. Completely speechless.

You shrugged slightly. “…Too much?”

Joel shook his head immediately. “…No.” His voice sounded a little rough. “Not even close.”

Sarah grinned.

Tommy leaned toward her and murmured, “Your dad just forgot how words work.”

Joel didn’t even deny it. Because all he could think was one thing: God help me. I’m actually going to ask this woman to marry me.

Then Tommy cleared his throat loudly. “Alright Romeo,” he said, standing up. “If you don’t leave soon you’re gonna miss your reservation.”

Joel blinked, like someone snapping him back into the room. “Right.”

Sarah waved dramatically from the couch. “Have fun!”

Tommy called after them. “Try not to pass out before dessert!”

Joel shot him a look that promised consequences later and ushered you out the door.

The evening air outside was cool enough to make the warmth of the house feel distant. Not freezing, just that dry December chill Austin got a few weeks a year. The kind that made you glad for a coat but didn’t bite. You tucked your hands briefly into the sleeves of yours as you crossed the driveway.

Joel opened the truck door for you. You climbed in, smoothing your dress as you settled into the seat.

“Thank you.”

Joel walked around to the driver’s side, trying very hard not to think about the ring sitting in his jacket pocket. He checked it anyway. Still there. Good.

The engine rumbled to life and for a few minutes the truck filled with the quiet rhythm of the road and your soft humming to the radio.

You seemed completely relaxed. “Okay,” you said lightly, “this is really nice.”

Joel kept his eyes on the road. “…Is it.”

“Yes.” you smiled. “We don’t do fancy dinner dates very often.”

Joel nodded once. “Been busy.”

“That’s true.”

You watched him for another moment. Then asked gently, “So what’s the occasion?”

Joel felt his pulse kick once in his throat. He thought about it for a second. Then he glanced at you.

“…Figured it was overdue.”

“How so?”

Joel shrugged a little. “We spend most nights dealin’ with work, homework, laundry, life…” He gestured vaguely toward the road ahead. “…Thought maybe it’d be nice to take you out. Just the two of us.”

You studied him for a second. Your expression softened.

“That’s… really sweet.”

Joel huffed quietly. “Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

“I will absolutely make a big deal out of it,” you said, smiling. “This is romantic.”

Joel shook his head slightly but couldn’t quite hide the small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

He drove the rest of the way with you talking about a ridiculous email one of your coworkers had sent earlier that week. Joel nodded along when appropriate, but his mind kept drifting back to the same thought: Tonight.

The restaurant lights appeared ahead as you turned toward the riverfront. Joel pulled into the parking lot and cut the engine.

You looked out the window and smiled. “La Trattoria.”

Joel glanced at you. “You like it here.”

“I do.” You reached for the door handle. Then paused and looked back at him. “Thank you for bringing me.”

Joel swallowed once. “…Yeah.”

You two stepped out into the cool night air and walked toward the warm glow of the restaurant doors.

The inside was warm, softly lit, and pleasantly busy for a Saturday night.

Joel gave the host his name. “Reservation for Miller.”

The host checked the tablet. “…Ah. Yes. Table for two.”

Joel nodded. Good. Still on track.

The host grabbed two menus and started leadingyoudeeper into the dining room.

Joel slipped his hand briefly to his jacket pocket. Still there. Good.

You reached a small table near the window. Candles. White tablecloth. Quiet. Perfect. You smiled as you sat down. 

“You did good,” you said softly.

Joel pulled out your chair and sat across from you. “Yeah?”

His heart was beating so loud he was honestly surprised the waiter didn’t comment on it.

You ordered drinks. Bread arrived. Joel picked up the menu but realized he’d been staring at the same line for about thirty seconds. He didn’t read a single word.

You noticed. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Just hungry.”

“Mm-hm.”

You were smiling a little now, clearly enjoying this rare moment of Joel Miller trying to be romantic.

He exhaled slowly. Okay. He could do this. Dinner first. Then dessert. Then…

“Joel?”

He turned his head. And felt his soul leave his body.

Standing three feet away was Leanne. Emma’s mom. The one who had prompted him to say you were his girlfriend at pickup. Perfect hair. Perfect posture. Perfect passive-aggressive smile.

“…Well,” she said brightly. “What a coincidence.”

Joel closed his eyes for half a second. Of course.

You turned in your chair. “Oh, hi.”

Leanne clasped her hands together like she’d just stumbled upon the most delightful surprise in the world. “I had no idea you two came here.”

Joel muttered, “Neither did I.”

Leanne ignored him. “This place is so charming.”

You smiled politely. “Yes, it’s lovely.”

Joel prayed silently. Please leave. Please just leave.

Leanne tilted her head. “Are you celebrating something?”

Joel opened his mouth. “Just dinner.”

“Just dinner,” you echoed.

Leanne hummed thoughtfully. “Well isn’t that nice.”

Joel saw a man standing behind her. Tall. Nervous. Holding a coat. Her date. The poor bastard.

Leanne turned slightly and gestured. “This is Richard.”

Richard waved awkwardly. “…Hi.”

Joel nodded once. “Hey.”

You smiled politely. “Nice to meet you.”

Leanne looked around the restaurant. Then said the worst possible thing.

“Oh!” She brightened. “Richard, their table is bigger. We could just join them.”

Joel’s entire nervous system shut down. “…No.”

But Leanne had already pulled out the chair beside you. “Oh it’ll be fun.”

You looked at Joel. Joel looked at you. Neither of you could find a socially acceptable way to stop this train wreck.

Richard sat down slowly like a man who knew he was walking into something terrible. Leanne folded her napkin into her lap.

“Well,” she said brightly. “This is cozy.”

Joel stared at the table. The ring in his pocket suddenly felt like a ticking bomb. He closed his eyes for a second. This was officially the worst proposal night in human history… And it had barely even started.

A waiter appeared. “Good evening! Ready to order?”

Leanne answered before anyone else could. “We’re all together. Double date.”

Joel blinked. “…We are not-”

“Wonderful!” the waiter said. “We have a lovely shared appetizer board for couples.”

Before Joel could object, the menus vanished. You pressed your lips together. Your shoulders started shaking.

Joel leaned toward you. “You laughin’?”

You shook your head. “No.” you chuckled. “…A little.”

Leanne leaned forward. “So how long have you two been together now?”

Joel picked up his water. “…More than a year.”

You glanced at him, smiling faintly. “Almost two, actually.”

Leanne blinked. “Oh.” Her eyes flicked between them. “I didn’t realize it had been that long.”

You smiled politely. “Most people don’t keep a spreadsheet.”

Richard coughed into his napkin. Joel took another drink of water.

Leanne went on. “Well. That’s serious.”

You shrugged lightly. “Usually that’s how time works.”

The waiter returned carrying a large bottle of red wine. “And here we are-”

His elbow clipped the table. The bottle slipped. For one terrifying second it spun in the air. Then landed with a THUNK on the table. Everyone froze. 

The waiter caught it before it rolled. “…Nailed it.”

Joel stared at him. “…You almost killed us.”

“I’m so sorry.”

You burst out laughing.

Joel looked at you. “You think that’s funny.”

“Yes,” you said breathlessly. “Very.”

Wine was poured.

Joel waved his hand. “None for me. I’m driving.”

Richard murmured, “I’ll have some.”

Then the appetizer board arrived. A massive wooden platter landed in the center of the table. Cheese. Olives. Bread. Prosciutto.

Leanne clapped lightly. “Oh that looks lovely.”

Joel leaned toward the waiter. “We didn’t order-”

“Compliments of the house for couples,” the waiter said with a wink.

Joel closed his eyes. You reached for bread.

Leanne watched you carefully. “So, Juliet, right?” she said sweetly, “do you work full-time or are you mostly helping Joel with Sarah?”

Joel slowly lifted his head.

You chewed calmly. “Full-time.”

Leanne smiled thinly. “Oh really?”

“I’m a lawyer.”

Leanne looked stiff. “Oh.”

You sipped your wine. “Trial attorney.”

Richard nearly inhaled his drink, and Joel felt a small grin pulling at his mouth.

Leanne recovered swiftly. “Well that must keep you very busy. I always wonder how women balance careers and… family responsibilities.”

“Coffee. Spite. And excellent time management.” you replied calmly.

Richard coughed again. Then the main dishes arrived. The waiter set a plate in front of you. You picked up your fork.

Joel glanced down. Then froze.

“…Hold on.”

You paused. “What?”

Joel pointed. “That got shrimp.”

You leaned closer.

“Oh.” Leanne gasped. “You’re allergic?”

“Very.”

The waiter went pale. “I am so sorry. This wasn’t supposed to include seafood.”

Joel shoved the plate away from you. You leaned back in your chair. And started laughing again. Full, helpless laughter.

Joel stared at you. “You’re gonna die and you’re laughin’.”

“I’m not gonna to die,” you said between breaths. “But this is objectively the worst date night in history.”

Leanne sniffed. “Well. Some people enjoy chaos.”

You wiped tears from your eyes. “I do.”

Joel watched you. Flushed from laughing. Eyes bright. Completely unfazed. The most beautiful woman in the room. God, he loved you.

“…Unbelievable.”

You looked at him. “What?”

Joel leaned closer, voice low. “I had a plan tonight.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Before he could answer… Leanne leaned forward again.

“So Joel,” she said sweetly, “have you two talked about marriage yet?”

Joel’s brain stopped. Completely. Like someone had unplugged the lights in his head. So much that he choked on the water he’d been sipping.

You turned toward him slowly. Still smiling. But now curious.

Joel coughed and tried to recover.

“I mean,” Leanne went on lightly, “two years is a long time.”

You reached for your wine.

Leanne smiled at you. “And Juliet’s not getting any younger.”

The table went very quiet. Richard froze mid-bite. Joel’s jaw tightened. You set your glass down gently. Then looked at Leanne. And smiled.

“Oh don’t worry,” you said pleasantly. “I fully intend to age.”

Richard snorted. Joel coughed into his napkin to hide a laugh.

Leanne’s smile tightened a little. “Well,” she said, “I just think women sometimes waste their best years waiting.”

You leaned back in your chair. “Waiting for what?”

Leanne gestured vaguely toward Joel. “For men to make up their minds.”

Joel stared at the candle in the center of the table. The ring in his pocket suddenly felt like it weighed ten pounds.

You glanced at him briefly. Then back at Leanne.

“Well,” you said lightly, “if that’s the case I suppose I’ll have to start collecting cats.”

Richard laughed outright this time. Leanne shot him a sharp look. The waiter returned carrying the plate you had actually ordered. He set it down very carefully.

“No shrimp,” he said.

You smiled warmly. “Thank you.”

The waiter nodded and retreated quickly.

Joel watched you for a moment as you took your first bite. 

You caught his look. “What.”

“You’re enjoying this.”

You swallowed. “A little.”

Joel leaned closer. “That woman is tryin’ to kill me.”

You whispered back, “She’s trying to kill me.”

Joel pointed subtly with his fork. “She asked me about marriage.”

Your eyes lit up mischievously. “Oh that’s delicious.”

Joel stared at you. “You’re evil.”

Leanne leaned forward again. “So Joel,” she said, “how is Sarah enjoying school this year?”

Joel blinked. “…Good.”

“I heard she’s quite attached to Juliet.”

You took another sip of wine.

Joel nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

Leanne smiled thinly. “That must be… complicated.”

Joel frowned. “What’s complicated.”

“Well,” she said lightly, “blended situations can be confusing for children.”

You burst out laughing. Not polite laughter. Full, helpless laughter.

Leanne blinked, looking outraged.

You wiped a tear from the corner of your eye. “I’m sorry,” you said between breaths. “I just-” you stopped because of some more residual laughter. 

Leanne’s smile stiffened. “What?”

You gestured around the table. “This is the worst date Joel has ever planned.”

Joel sighed. “Wasn’t supposed to be.”

Richard looked at Joel. “You planned this?”

Joel rubbed his forehead. “Yeah.”

Richard nodded sympathetically. “…Rough start.”

You laughed again. Joel watched you. And something in his chest loosened. Because you weren't embarrassed. Weren’t annoyed. Weren’t upset… you were having fun. Even with Leanne. Even with the wine disaster. Even with the shrimp incident.

Joel leaned back in his chair. Exhaled. Then finally said quietly, 

“…Alright.”

You looked at him. “What.”

Joel grabbed the bread basket. “If we’re stuck here we might as well eat.”

You grinned. “That’s the spirit.”

Leanne sniffed. “Well I hope the rest of the evening is less… chaotic.”

Joel picked up his water glass. Looked directly at you. Then said calmly,

“…I don’t.”

You burst out laughing again.

Joel took a sip of water. And for the first time all night… He stopped worrying about the plan. Because clearly the plan had died hours ago. Now it was just them. And chaos. And honestly? You looked more amused than you had all week.

Joel shook his head slightly. “…Unbelievable.”

You leaned toward him. “What.”

Joel muttered, “You’re worth every second of this mess.”

You smiled at him. And the entire table disappeared. Even Leanne. Even the disaster of a dinner.

Then Leanne spoke again. “So Joel, do you ever-”

Joel held up a hand. “Leanne.”

She blinked. “…Yes?”

Joel pointed toward Richard. “You should probably talk to your date.”

Richard raised his glass. “Thank you.”

You lost it again. Joel leaned back in his chair. He started to enjoy himself.

Dinner should have improved after that. It did not. Joel had just taken his second bite of pasta when the waiter returned carrying a plate none ofyouhad ordered.

“And the tiramisu for the table.”

Joel frowned. “We didn’t-”

The waiter set it down proudly. “Compliments of the house for couples.”

Joel stared at the dessert. Then at the waiter. “…There are four people here. And we still have to finish our first course.”

The waiter hesitated. “…Yes.”

You started laughing again.

Richard picked up a spoon immediately. “Well, I’m not letting it go to waste.”

Leanne sighed dramatically. “This place used to be much more refined.”

Joel muttered, “Should’ve gone to a burger joint.”

Leanne leaned toward you again. “So tell me, Juliet… do you see yourself staying in Austin long-term?”

You looked at her in a way that reflected the weirdness of the question. “...Yes? My job is here, my family’s here… No plans of going anywhere.”

Leanne smiled. “I just always imagined Joel ending up with someone more… settled.”

Joel slowly lowered his fork.

You squinted. “What does that mean?”

Leanne waved her hand. “Oh you know. Someone more… family oriented.”

You blinked once. Then burst out laughing again.

Joel stared at you. “You’re not even mad.”

“Oh I’m a little mad,” you said cheerfully, and then pointed at your plate. “But this is also incredible.”

Richard looked deeply uncomfortable.

“Leanne.”

She turned to him. “Yes?”

“You’re bein’ rude.”

Her smile tightened. “I’m just making conversation.”

You lifted your glass. “To conversation.”

Richard clinked glasses with you immediately. Joel rubbed his face.

The waiter returned. “Is everything alright here?”

Joel nodded. “Fantastic.”

The waiter beamed. “Wonderful!”

Then immediately knocked Joel’s water glass over while reaching for the empty bread basket. Water flooded the tablecloth. The candle tipped sideways. Joel caught it before it rolled. The waiter froze.

“I am… so sorry.”

You laughed so hard you had to cover your face.

Joel stared at the spreading puddle. “…I’m cursed.”

Richard stood up awkwardly. “Here, I’ll help.”

Leanne dabbed her napkin delicately. “This is exactly why I prefer quieter places.”

Joel looked at her. “You’re the loudest thing in this restaurant.”

You choked on your wine.

The waiter returned with a stack of napkins and wiped the table like a man defusing a bomb.

Joel sat back again. Exhausted.

Leanne leaned forward. “So Juliet,” she said sweetly, “do you want children of your own someday?”

Joel froze.

You blinked. “Maybe.”

Leanne nodded thoughtfully. “Well… time does become a factor for women.”

Richard whispered, “Oh my God.”

You smiled politely. “Well,” you said calmly, “good thing that’s not a decision anyone else gets to make for me.”

Richard choked on the tiramisu.

Joel stared at you. “…Jesus.”

Leanne’s expression tightened. “I just think Joel deserves someone who understands his responsibilities and helps him with them.”

You nodded calmly. “You realise I live with them, right?”

Leanne blinked. Once. Then twice. “You…what?”

Richard stopped moving entirely.

Joel slowly looked up from his plate.

Leanne stared at him. “You didn’t mention that.”

Joel shrugged slightly. “Didn’t know I had to publish it on the school bulletin.”

Leanne’s smile returned, but it was thinner now. “Well,” she said lightly, adjusting her napkin, “that seems… rather fast.”

You returned her smile, but yours was authentic. 

“It’s been two years.”

Leanne didn’t answer. She just picked up her glass and took a long drink.

Richard muttered quietly, “…I’m gonna need more wine.”

Joel leaned back in his chair and rubbed his face.

The waiter appeared again. “Dessert menus?”

Joel pointed at the tiramisu already sitting there. “We’re good.”

The waiter nodded and fled.

For a few minutes the table fell into an awkward rhythm of eating. Richard finished the tiramisu almost entirely by himself. Leanne complained quietly about the wine. You kept making small comments that made Richard laugh. Joel mostly focused on finishing his pasta and surviving the evening.

At one point the waiter brought Joel the next plate.

“Sir, your lasagna.”

Joel stared at it. “…I ordered chicken marsala.”

The waiter blinked. “Oh.”

You covered your mouth again.

Joel just pushed the plate slightly away. “Honestly, surprise me at this point.”

You laughed so hard you had to lean on the table.

Eventually the plates cleared. The check arrived. Joel paid quickly before Leanne could comment on that too. You stood. Chairs scraped softly across the floor.

Leanne smiled tightly. “Well,” she said, “this was… unexpected.”

You smiled back warmly. “It certainly was.”

Richard gave Joel a sympathetic nod. “Good luck, man.”

Joel nodded once. “Appreciate it.”

Then you two stepped outside into the cool December evening air. The door closed behind you.

Silence.

You lasted about three seconds before you started laughing again. Hard.

Joel shook his head. “You think that was funny.”

You wiped your eyes. “That was the worst date of my life.”

Joel sighed. “Yeah.”

You slipped your hand into his. “But it was also the best.”

Joel looked at you. Streetlights catching in your hair. Your cheeks still flushed from laughing.

The ring box pressed heavy in his pocket. He exhaled slowly.

“…I had a plan tonight.”

You smiled softly. “I figured.”

Joel ran a hand through his hair. “Plan’s dead.”

You squeezed his hand. “That’s okay.”

Joel looked at you again. And suddenly the night didn’t feel completely ruined anymore. Just… different.

“So what now?”

Joel sighed. “…Now we go home.”

***************

The truck rolled quietly along the dark road out of town, headlights cutting through the cool winter night.

For a while you didn’t stop talking.

“…and then when she said I’m not getting any younger”

You broke off laughing again, leaning back against the seat.

Joel kept his eyes on the road. “You found that funny.”

“It was funny,” you said, still smiling. “She was practically vibrating.”

Joel huffed quietly.

You wiped your eyes. “I mean, the woman really thought she was doing something.”

Joel shook his head. “She always does.”

You glanced over at him. “You’ve been dealing with that for years?”

“More than I’d like.”

You laughed again. “And poor Richard. That man aged ten years during dinner.”

Joel let out a low chuckle. For a few seconds the truck filled with the quiet hum of tires on asphalt.

You shook your head again. “I almost feel bad for her.”

Joel glanced at you. “You shouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

Joel kept driving a moment before answering.

“…You realize she’s jealous of you, right?”

You blinked. Then smiled. “Oh, of course.”

Joel frowned slightly. “You say that real casually.”

You shrugged. “Well.” You looked at him. Warm. Teasing. “Come on.”

Joel glanced over briefly.

Then you went: “Look at you.”

For a second he didn’t understand. Then it hit him. And something in his chest warmed so suddenly it almost hurt.

You leaned your head against the seat, still smiling softly. “I can’t blame her...”

Joel swallowed. His grip tightened slightly on the steering wheel. The road ahead stretched dark and empty.

He drove another hundred yards. Maybe two. Then suddenly slowed.

You looked over. “…Joel?”

The truck rolled onto the gravel shoulder. And stopped. The engine idled quietly.

You turned toward him. “What’s wrong?”

Joel didn’t answer right away. He just sat there for a second, staring through the windshield. And all at once the nervousness that had been twisting in his stomach for weeks… went quiet. 

Because when you’d said ‘look at you’, not mocking, not teasing, just simple and sure, something in him settled.

He cut the engine. Silence settled around them. The only sound was the faint ticking of the cooling motor.

You studied his face. “Joel?”

He turned toward you slowly. His expression had changed. Not nervous exactly. But serious. Quiet. Like he’d made a decision.

Joel opened the door and stepped out of the truck. Cold air rushed in.

You blinked in confusion. “Joel, you’re scaring me.”

He walked around the front of the truck, gravel crunching softly under his boots. He stopped beside your door and opened it.

“Come here.”

You climbed out slowly. “What are you doing?”

Joel didn’t answer. Instead he reached into his jacket pocket. Pulled out the small velvet box.

You froze. Completely.

“…Joel.”

He looked down at the box in his hand. For a second it felt unreal. Weeks of hiding it. Moving it. Checking it. Panicking about it. All of that… for this moment.

Then he looked back at you. 

“Tonight didn’t go how I planned.”

You let out a breathless little laugh.

He opened the box. The ring caught the soft glow of the truck’s headlights.

Your hand flew to your mouth.

Joel took a breath. Then lowered himself onto one knee. The gravel pressed through the denim of his dark jeans but he barely noticed.

Because the second he looked up at you… everything else faded.

The road. The truck. The ridiculous dinner. All of it. All he could see was you. Standing there under the faint starlight. Eyes wide. Hand covering your mouth. Looking at him like the world had just shifted.

Joel ran a hand over the back of his neck.

“I had this whole thing planned,” he said quietly. “Dinner. Words. Timing.” He shook his head slightly. “That clearly didn’t work out.”

You stared at him, tears already gathering.

Joel’s voice softened. “But truth is…” He exhaled slowly. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to say this for weeks.”

He wasn’t a man who talked about feelings easily. Never had been. Most of his life, the important things had stayed locked somewhere behind his ribs. But this one… refused to stay there.

“I ain’t great at this kind of thing.”

You shook your head quickly through your tears.

“You’re doing fine.”

Joel huffed quietly. “Yeah well… let’s not set the bar too high.” Then he looked at you again. Really looked. “You walked into my life, without warning,” he said slowly, “and somehow made everything better.”

You wiped at your eyes and sniffled, trying to hold back tears.

Joel kept going.

“You love my kid like she’s yours. You make our house feel like a home. You laugh at disasters like tonight instead of runnin’ from them.” His voice dropped a little. “And somewhere along the way…” He shook his head faintly. “I stopped bein’ able to imagine my life without you in it.”

The quiet stretched between you. Just the two of you in the dark Texas night.

Joel exhaled slowly. “So I’m gonna skip the fancy speech.” A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Juliet…” He held the ring out. “Will you marry me?”

For a second you just stared at him. Like your mind was catching up with your heart. Then a breath escaped you.

“Oh my God.”

Joel’s pulse hammered.

You moved suddenly. Grabbing his face with both hands and pulling him up from the gravel.

“Yes.”

And then you kissed him. A real kiss. One that carried all the weeks of tension and laughter and fighting and making up and building something together.

Joel wrapped his arms around you instinctively, pulling you closer. Your fingers slid into his hair as you kissed him again, softer this time. Slower. Like you were trying to memorize the moment.

Joel felt something inside his chest loosen completely. Like the last tight knot he hadn’t even realized he was carrying had finally come undone.

You pulled back slightly, breathless and laughing through tears.

“Yes, Joel,” you whispered. “Of course yes.”

He slid the ring onto your finger. It fit perfectly. You looked down at it, shaking your head in disbelief.

“You did this… in the middle of nowhere.”

Joel shrugged slightly, one hand still resting on your waist.

“Any place is perfect… as long as you’re in it.”

You laughed again. Then pulled him down into another kiss. And this one was slower. Gentler. The kind of kiss that didn’t need to rush anywhere.

But you didn’t let go of him afterward. You stayed close, arms around his neck, forehead pressed against his.

Joel felt the small tremor in your shoulders and pulled back just enough to look at you.

“You cryin’?”

You sniffed, laughing weakly through it. “Yes.”

“Why?”

You wiped under one eye with the heel of your hand, looking down at the ring again like you still couldn’t quite believe it was there.

“Because, you idiot,” you said softly. “You just proposed to me.”

Joel huffed a quiet breath. “Yeah.”

You shook your head, another tear slipping free. “I had no idea.”

“That was kinda the point.”

You looked up at him again, eyes shining. “You’ve been planning this?”

“For a while.”

“How long?”

“Like three weeks.”

Your eyebrows lifted. “Joel.”

“What.”

You laughed through the last of your tears and leaned into him again, studying his face like you were seeing him differently now.

“You talked to Bill, didn’t you.”

Joel sighed. “Yeah.”

“And Sarah.”

“Had to.”

You smiled softly. “She knew?”

“She helped pick the ring.”

Your hand flew to your mouth again, fresh tears appearing instantly. “Oh my God. That explains so much. Like why she talked like she was on a sugar high all the time…”

Joel watched you for a moment, something warm spreading through his chest again. “You alright?”

You nodded quickly. “Yes.”

Then suddenly you grabbed his coat and tugged him toward the truck. “Come here.”

Joel blinked. “Where we goin’.”

You pulled open the passenger door and climbed inside, then reached for him.

“Inside.”

Joel climbed in after you, shutting the door behind you.

The cab of the truck felt instantly warmer, the quiet night wrapping around the vehicle. You didn’t give him time to say anything. You grabbed his jacket and pulled him into another kiss.

This one wasn’t slow. Or gentle. It was the kind of kiss that came from too many emotions hitting at once: relief, joy, disbelief, love.

Joel let out a quiet breath against your mouth before his hands found your waist again, pulling you closer across the seat.

You shifted sideways, half climbing onto his lap without even thinking about it, your arms sliding around his neck as you kissed him again. Harder.

Joel’s hand moved up your back, fingers brushing the curve of your spine through the fabric of your dress as he kissed you back just as fiercely now.

You broke the kiss for a second, laughing softly against his cheek. “This is insane.”

Joel murmured against your neck, “You’re the one who dragged me in here.”

“Because you proposed to me on the side of the road.”

Joel huffed. “Seemed like the right moment.”

You kissed him again before he could say anything else, your fingers sliding into his hair.

Joel leaned back against the seat, one hand steady at your waist while the other brushed your thigh as their kisses slowed again, deeper now.

The windows had started to fog. And Joel had very successfully forgotten where you were. Which was exactly when red and blue lights flashed behind them.

You froze.

Joel closed his eyes. “…You gotta be kiddin’ me.”

A car door shut somewhere behind them. Boots crunched on gravel. Someone knocked on Joel’s window, making you jump to your seat with a style and speed he’d previously only seen in felines. Then a familiar voice called out from the darkness when Joel slowly opened the window.

“Well now.”

He turned slowly. The same cop from their first date stood a few yards away, hands resting on his belt. He raised an eyebrow at the fogged windows.

“Y’all again?”

You buried your face in Joel’s shoulder, laughing helplessly.

Joel sighed. “…Evenin’, officer.”

The cop glanced at your hand still resting on Joel’s chest. Then at the ring sparkling under the dashboard lights. His eyebrows lifted.

“Well I’ll be damned.”

You lifted your head, still smiling. “We just got engaged.”

The cop nodded slowly. “Yeah… that tracks.”

Joel rubbed his face.

The officer tipped his hat slightly. “Congratulations.” Then he jerked a thumb toward the road. “Now maybe take the celebration somewhere that ain’t the shoulder of Highway 71.”

You laughed again. “Yes, sir.”

The officer tipped his hat once more, amused, then turned and walked back toward his patrol car. A moment later the cruiser’s door shut, the engine started, and the red and blue lights blinked off as he pulled back onto the road and drove away.

Inside the truck, you grabbed Joel’s hand and squeezed it, still grinning.

“Still the best date ever.”

Joel looked at you. At the ring. Then back at the road.

“…Yeah,” he said quietly. “Yeah it is.”

****************

The truck rolled into the driveway a little after ten. The porch light was still on. Joel noticed it immediately.

“…Why’s the light on.”

You smiled faintly, turning the ring on your finger again like you still couldn’t quite believe it was there.

“Maybe Tommy forgot.”

Joel parked the truck and cut the engine. you walked up the short path to the house, you still holding his hand.

Joel opened the door. The moment you stepped inside…  Sarah appeared from the living room like a tiny tornado.

“YOU’RE BACK!”

Joel blinked. “…Why are you still awake.”

Sarah ignored him completely and ran straight to you. “How was dinner??”

You opened your mouth… Then Sarah saw the ring. And the world exploded. 

“OH MY GOD!” She grabbed your hand with both of hers, staring at the ring like it had descended from heaven. “YOU DID IT!”

You laughed helplessly. “Yes, apparently he did.”

Sarah spun toward Joel. “You proposed?!”

Joel shrugged a little. “…Yeah.”

Sarah screamed. A full, unrestrained, neighborhood-alerting scream.

“OH MY GOD!”

Tommy appeared from the kitchen doorway, arms folded, clearly having been listening the whole time.

“Well,” he said, strolling closer with a grin, “that answers that question.”

You looked up at him, still laughing.

Tommy didn’t hesitate. He pulled you into a big hug.

“Welcome to the family, sister.”

You hugged him back just as tightly. “Careful,” you laughed into his shoulder. “I might hold you to that.”

Tommy pulled back and looked at the ring. “Well I’ll be damned.” Then he stepped past you and grabbed Joel by the shoulder, pulling him into a quick, rough hug. “Congratulations, big brother.”

Joel huffed a small laugh into his shoulder. “…Thanks.”

Tommy pulled back and gave him a firm clap on the back. “I knew you’d get there.”

Joel frowned. “You did not.”

Tommy raised an eyebrow.

Joel gestured vaguely toward the door. “I almost didn’t. Dinner was a complete disaster.”

You snorted.

Tommy laughed. “Still got it done.”

Sarah was still staring at the ring like a tiny dragon guarding treasure.

“It’s so shiny.”

Joel rubbed the back of his neck. “Alright, let her breathe.”

Sarah ignored him completely and hugged you around the waist. “Are you gonna marry my dad for real?”

You crouched down slightly so you were face to face. “If that’s okay with you.”

Sarah threw her arms around your neck immediately. “YES.”

Joel watchedyoufor a second. Something in his throat tightened.

Tommy noticed. He leaned closer and muttered quietly,

“…You’re lookin’ real emotional over there.”

Joel elbowed him. “Shut up.”

Sarah finally released you and grabbed your hand again. “Can I tell people tomorrow??”

Joel sighed. “…We’ll talk about it.”

Sarah bounced in place. “This is the best night ever.”

You stood again, slipping your hand into Joel’s. He squeezed it instinctively.

Tommy clapped his hands once. “Alright,” he said. “That’s enough excitement for one night. Kid’s supposed to be asleep.”

Sarah grinned. “Worth it.”

You laughed and leaned into Joel slightly. He looked down at you, then at the ring again.

“…Best night ever.”

You squeezed his hand. “Absolutely.”

The adrenaline of the evening had burned through Sarah fast. Somewhere between the fourth time she asked to see the ring and the second glass of milk Tommy had handed her, she’d started yawning.

Joel had carried her to bed not long after.

Now the hallway light was off, her bedroom door cracked just enough for the soft glow of her nightlight to spill out.

In the living room, you paced across the rug with your phone pressed to your ear, the ring flashing every time you moved your hand.

“Yes, Mom,” you were saying, laughing breathlessly. “Yes, of course I said yes.”

Joel leaned against the kitchen counter, arms folded, watching you.

You had already called Annie. Then at least three friends. And after every call you looked down at the ring again like it had just appeared there.

Tommy stood beside Joel, quietly opening a soda. He leaned closer.

“…She’s been doing that for twenty minutes.”

Joel nodded. “Yeah.”

Across the room you gasped suddenly. “Yes, Bill, I know,” you said into the phone, laughing again. “You don’t have to threaten him.”

Joel groaned under his breath.

Tommy grinned. “Told you.”

You turned away from them, still talking.

Joel finally pushed away from the counter and grabbed a soda for himself.

Tommy tipped his chin toward the living room. “So.”

Joel glanced over. “Yeah.”

Tommy waited. “…You gonna tell me how it actually happened?”

“…Disaster.”

Tommy immediately smiled. “Good.”

Joel snorted. “No, I mean actual disaster.”

He leaned back against the counter again. “Leanne showed up.”

Tommy’s eyebrows shot up. “…You’re kidding.”

“Nope.”

“With a date?”

“Yep.”

Tommy let out a low whistle. “That’s rough.”

Joel nodded. “Waiter almost launched a wine bottle at us.”

Tommy choked on his drink. “What?”

“Then they gave Juliet shrimp.”

Tommy blinked. “…The one thing she’s allergic to?”

“And the waiter thought it was a double date.”

Tommy started laughing.

Joel pointed at him. “It wasn’t funny.”

“It’s hilarious.”

Joel shook his head. “She kept laughing the whole time.”

Tommy wiped his eyes. “Of course she did.”

Joel looked toward the living room again.

You had finished your call and were now texting rapidly, clearly sending pictures of the ring.

“…Plan was dead,” Joel muttered.

“So what happened.”

Joel shrugged. “Pulled the truck over.”

Tommy straightened. “You what.”

“Side of the road.”

Tommy stared at him.

Joel took a drink. “…Highway 71.”

Tommy burst out laughing again. “You proposed on the shoulder of a highway?”

“Yeah.”

Tommy shook his head. “That’s incredible.”

Joel exhaled slowly. “Then we started making out in the truck.”

Tommy stopped laughing. “…Please tell me you’re kidding.”

Joel took another drink. “Windows fogged.”

Tommy leaned back against the counter, howling now. “You’re thirty-two years old.”

“Cop showed up.”

Tommy froze. “…No.”

Joel nodded. “Same one from the first date.”

Tommy nearly collapsed laughing. “Oh my God.”

Joel rubbed his face. “Worst date in history.”

Tommy shook his head, still grinning. “Best one, apparently.”

Joel looked at him.

His brother reached over and gave his shoulder a firm squeeze. “I’m real happy for you.”

Joel nodded once. “…Yeah.”

Tommy looked toward the living room. “You did good.”

Joel looked at you again. At the ring. At the way you still couldn’t stop smiling.

“…Yeah,” he said quietly. “I know.”

PART 12 - THE QUESTION (1/2)

Two weeks after the fishing trip, winter had started creeping into Austin. Cooler mornings, darker evenings, and that crisp smell in the air that meant December wasn’t far off.

The house was quieter than usual. You were in Houston for the weekend, at some legal congress Joel had only half understood when you explained it. Something about housing policy and panels.

All he really knew was that you’d left early that morning with a suitcase and a stack of notes. Which meant, for the first time in a while, it was just him and Sarah.

They sat at the kitchen table after dinner. Homework spread everywhere. Joel pretended to read the sports section while Sarah stared at a math worksheet like it had betrayed her.

Her pencil hovered over the page. Then stopped. Then hovered again.

Joel lowered the newspaper slightly. “You gonna finish that?”

Sarah sighed dramatically. “I’m thinking.”

“You been thinking about that same problem for ten minutes.”

She squinted at the page. “It’s complicated.”

Joel leaned back in his chair. “Looks like addition.”

She gave him a look. “It’s advanced addition.”

Joel snorted. “Uh-huh.”

She scribbled something down, erased it immediately, then glanced up at him.

“You’re staring at me.”

“Am not.”

“You are.”

Joel folded the newspaper slowly and set it aside.

“Okay, I am.”

Sarah looked up. “Yeah?”

Joel sighed. “…Can I ask you something?”

She tilted her head. “You already did.”

Joel huffed a quiet laugh. “Alright, smartass.”

“What.”

Joel leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on the table.

“Been thinkin’ about somethin’.”

Sarah waited.

“…Would you be okay,” he said carefully, “with me asking Juliet to marry me?”

Sarah froze. Completely froze. The pencil slipped out of her fingers and rolled across the table. For a second she just stared at him. Then she went…

“WAIT WHAT.”

Joel winced. “Inside voice.”

Sarah shot to her feet so fast the chair scraped loudly across the floor.

“You’re serious?”

Joel nodded once. “Yeah.”

“Like… like married married?”

“Yeah.”

Sarah clapped both hands over her mouth. Then dropped them again immediately.

“Oh my god.”

Joel watched her pace two steps across the kitchen like a tiny hurricane.

“You’re really doing this?”

She stopped in front of him again. “And Juliet would be here forever?”

Joel raised an eyebrow. “She already lives here.”

“Yeah but like… forever forever.”

Joel nodded. “That’s the plan.”

Sarah stared at him another second. Then launched herself at him. Joel barely caught her as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Yes!”

Joel laughed under his breath. “Okay, okay.”

She pulled back, eyes shining. “This is amazing!”

Joel hesitated, then added more quietly, “Hey… listen a second.”

Sarah waited.

Joel cleared his throat. “It’s always been you and me, kid.”

Her face softened a little. 

Joel went on, “And I don’t want you feeling weird about any of this. Nothing changes between us. You understand?”

Sarah nodded very seriously. Then immediately said:

“Can I help pick the ring?”

Joel sighed. “Sarah…”

“Because June’s mom’s sister has a ring,” she continued rapidly, completely ignoring him now, “and it’s huge and shiny and everyone at school talks about it.”

Joel rubbed his face. “Uh-huh.”

“So is Juliet’s going to be huge and shiny too?”

Joel blinked. “I don’t know yet, baby girl...”

“Well you can’t buy a boring one,” Sarah said matter-of-factly. “That would be rude.”

Joel leaned back in his chair. “This conversation got outta control real fast.”

Sarah leaned closer across the table, whispering like this was top-secret information.

“You should get one with diamonds all around it.”

Joel groaned. “Oh no.”

“Yes,” Sarah insisted. “And sparkly.”

He pointed a finger at her. “First rule.”

She paused. “What.”

“This is a secret.”

Sarah’s eyes widened slightly.

“From Juliet.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Oh.”

Joel nodded once. “You cannot tell her.”

Sarah thought about that for half a second. Then grinned like she’d just been handed the most important mission of her life.

“Okay.”

Joel narrowed his eyes. “You sure?”

Sarah zipped her lips theatrically and mimed throwing away a key. Joel shook his head, smiling despite himself.

Across the table, Sarah was already vibrating again.

“You’re gonna marry Juliet.”

Joel leaned back in his chair, shaking his head slightly.

“…Yeah.” A small pause. “…If she says yes.”

Sarah looked at him like that was the dumbest thing she’d ever heard.

“Oh,” she said confidently. “She will.”

Joel raised an eyebrow. “You sound real sure about that.”

Sarah shrugged. “Of course.” Then she leaned across the table, lowering her voice like she was revealing insider information. “She already loves you.”

Joel huffed a quiet laugh, looking down at the table for a moment.

“…Yeah,” he muttered.

He hoped she was right.

Sarah leaned across the table, still buzzing with excitement. “Can I tell Uncle Tommy?”

Joel frowned slightly. “…Tell him what.”

“That you’re gonna propose!”

“Well… he already knows.”

Sarah blinked. “He does?”

“Yeah…But I guess you can call him.”

That was all she needed. Sarah grabbed the phone off the counter and ran into the living room.

Joel could hear the call connect almost immediately. Then… 

“UNCLE TOMMY!”

Joel winced.

Tommy’s voice came through the speaker, confused.

“Kid? Why are you yelling?”

Sarah practically bounced in place. “HE’S ASKING HER!”

There was a short pause. “…What?”

“HE’S ASKING HER TO MARRY HIM!”

Another pause.

Then Tommy laughed. “Oh man.”

Sarah kept talking at machine-gun speed.

“We have to pick a ring and it has to be sparkly and-”

Tommy chuckled through the phone. “Slow down, bug.”

Joel leaned back in his chair, listening to the chaos spill out of the living room.

Then Tommy’s voice drifted into the kitchen. “You proud of him?”

Sarah didn’t hesitate. “YES!”

Joel shook his head and smiled to himself. Yeah. This was really happening.

****************

The next few days were… interesting. Joel had been almost certain the secret wouldn’t survive twenty-four hours… Sarah had never been particularly good at keeping them.

But first you had to come back. Sunday afternoon the front door opened and Sarah launched herself down the hallway like a missile.

“YOU’RE BACK!”

You barely had time to drop your suitcase before Sarah collided with you in a hug.

“I was gone for two days,” you laughed. “Not two years.”

Joel leaned against the doorway watching you two. And waited. Because this was the moment. The explosion. Sarah telling her everything.

He gave it thirty seconds. Then a minute. Then two.

Sarah talked nonstop. About soccer. About bracelets. About how disgusting fish were. About how Uncle Tommy had tried to convince her to touch one. But she never said it. Not once.

Joel caught her eye across the room. Sarah immediately clamped both hands over her mouth and shook her head. Secret.

Joel had to look away so he wouldn’t start laughing. Still, he didn’t trust that restraint to last long.

Over the next couple days Sarah behaved like a tiny pressure cooker full of information she desperately wanted to release.

She followed you around the house more than usual. Volunteered to help cook. Hugged you randomly. Once Joel caught her just staring at you across the kitchen like she was studying you.

You noticed. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Sarah blinked rapidly. “I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I’m just… appreciating you.”

Joel had to leave the room before he lost it. But the secret held. Which meant he needed to move before it didn’t.

The next step was obvious. Bill. And that was the part Joel had been quietly dreading since Tommy mentioned it.

Bill had always been fair with him. But fair didn’t mean not terrifying. Fortunately the opportunity came sooner than Joel expected.

Thursday evening your phone buzzed while you were clearing the table. You glanced at the screen and sighed.

“Wendy,” you said. “Her landlord’s trying to pull something weird with her lease.”

Joel snorted. “That’ll end well.”

“Exactly why I should go read it before she signs anything stupid,” you said, grabbing your keys. You leaned over and kissed Joel quickly. “Back in a bit.”

Then you pointed at Sarah. 

“No sugar raids while I’m gone.”

Sarah grinned innocently. “Define raid.”

You laughed and slipped out the door. The house went quiet for a second.

Joel stood there thinking for a second. Then he grabbed his jacket. 

“Put on your shoes.”

Sarah looked up from the couch. “Where are we going?”

Joel hesitated. “…Running an errand.”

Sarah narrowed her eyes and gasped immediately. “For the thing?”

Joel pointed at her. “Secret.”

She dramatically zipped her lips.

The drive over was quiet. Not uncomfortable. Just… loaded. Sarah sat in the passenger seat swinging her feet, trying very hard not to explode.

Joel kept one hand on the wheel and the other resting near the gearshift, his jaw set the way it always got when he was about to do something that mattered.

When they pulled up in front of Bill and Frank’s place, the porch light was already on. Frank opened the door before they even knocked.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he said, smiling when he saw them. “Look who decided to visit.”

Sarah slipped past Joel immediately and threw her arms around him. “Hi, Uncle Frank.”

Frank laughed, hugging her back. “Well hello to you too.”

Bill appeared in the hallway behind him a moment later.

His eyebrows lifted slightly. “Joel.”

“Bill.”

Bill’s gaze flicked briefly to Sarah. “…Everything alright?”

“Yeah,” Joel said quickly. “Yeah. Just… thought we’d stop by.”

Bill studied him for a second longer than comfortable. Then stepped aside.

“Well,” he said dryly. “Don’t stand out there like a pair of salesmen. Come in.”

They moved into the living room. Sarah immediately spotted the old wooden chess board on the coffee table. Her eyes lit up. Joel noticed. Perfect.

“Hey,” he said, crouching beside her. “Why don’t you see if Uncle Frank still cheats at chess.”

Frank scoffed. “I do not cheat.”

“You absolutely cheat,” Joel said.

Sarah giggled and dropped onto the rug, already moving pieces around. Frank followed her down with a theatrical sigh.

“Well, I suppose someone’s gotta teach this child strategy.”

That left Joel and Bill standing near the doorway. Bill folded his arms slowly.

“…Alright.”

Joel tapped his bicep nervously with his fingers. “Look, I-”

“You gonna tell me what this is about?” Bill interrupted.

Joel glanced toward the living room where Sarah and Frank were already arguing about the rules. Then back at Bill. He took a breath.

“I wanted to talk to you about Juliet.”

Bill’s expression didn’t change. Not a flicker. Joel pushed on anyway.

“I’ve been thinkin’ about it for a while now.” Then he said it. “I wanna to ask her to marry me.”

The room went very quiet.

From the living room came Sarah’s voice. “UNCLE FRANK THAT IS NOT HOW KNIGHTS MOVE.”

Bill didn’t look away from Joel. Not once. He just studied him. Slowly. Carefully. Like a man weighing something important.

Joel held his gaze. Didn’t look away either.

Finally Bill spoke. “…Does she know?”

“No.”

Bill nodded once. “And Sarah?”

Joel glanced toward the living room. Sarah was now accusing Frank of ‘strategic betrayal’.

“…Yeah,” Joel said.

Bill looked back at him. “And you’re asking me because…?”

“Because she’s your niece… And because if I don’t ask you first,” Joel added honestly, “I figure you might actually kill me.”

Frank snorted loudly from the floor. 

Bill’s mouth twitched. Just barely. Then his expression settled again. Serious. Protective.

“…You love her.”

It wasn’t a question. Joel nodded once. “Yeah.”

Bill held his gaze another long moment. Then he said quietly: “Good.”

The real question was coming. And both of them knew it. Bill leaned back slightly against the wall.

“…So tell me something, Joel.” His eyes sharpened just a little. “Why do you think you deserve her?”

Joel didn’t answer immediately. Not because he didn’t hear the question. Because he had. And because Bill had asked it exactly the way Joel would have asked it himself if someone had shown up talking about Sarah someday.

Frank and Sarah were still arguing quietly over the chess board in the living room.

“THAT IS NOT A LEGAL MOVE.”

“It absolutely is.”

“It is NOT.”

Joel rubbed his thumb once over the edge of the kitchen counter. Then he looked back at Bill.

“I don’t,” he said.

Bill’s eyebrow lifted.

Joel shrugged one shoulder slightly. “I don’t think anybody deserves her.”

Frank paused mid-move at the chess board. “…That’s actually a pretty good answer,” he muttered.

Bill shot him a look. 

Frank immediately looked back down at the board. “Your knight is about to die, kid.”

Joel went on. “She’s the best person I know.”

Bill didn’t interrupt.

“She walked into my life and… just started fixing things I didn’t even know were broken.” Joel exhaled quietly. “She took to Sarah like it was the easiest thing in the world.”

His voice softened a little.

“Never tried to replace anybody. Never pushed. Just… showed up. Every day.”

Bill watched him carefully.

Joel continued. “And Sarah loves her.”

That landed. From the floor came Sarah’s voice again.

“CHECK.”

Frank sighed. “Well, that escalated quickly.”

Bill didn’t move his eyes from Joel.

“So you love her,” he said.

Joel nodded. “Yeah.”

“And you’re sure about this.”

That one wasn’t really a question either. Joel answered anyway.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

Bill studied him a few seconds longer. “Marriage isn’t easy.”

Joel gave a small, humorless breath. “Yeah.”

“You’re stubborn.”

Joel nodded. “Yeah.”

“She’s stubborn.”

Joel nodded again. “Yeah.”

Bill folded his arms. “That’s a lot of stubborn under one roof.”

Frank looked up from the chess board. “Sounds like my house.”

Bill ignored him. “You fight yet?”

Joel hesitated.

Bill saw it immediately. “…You have.”

Joel nodded once. “Yeah.”

Bill waited.

Joel scratched the back of his neck. “Almost screwed it up too.”

Bill didn’t look surprised. “What stopped you?”

Joel’s answer came without hesitation. “She did.”

That caught Bill’s attention.

Joel shrugged slightly. “She doesn’t run from things.” He paused. “Even when she’s hurt.”

Bill nodded slowly.

Frank moved a chess piece. “Checkmate.”

Sarah gasped. “YOU CHEATED.”

“I absolutely did not.”

Joel continued. “She makes me better.”

Bill’s gaze sharpened again.

Frank finally stood up and stretched. “Well,” he said casually, walking past them toward the fridge. “That sounded sincere.”

Bill didn’t react. He looked at Joel a long moment. Then finally said: “…You plannin’ to treat her right.”

Joel didn’t even blink. “Yes.”

Bill held his gaze. “You plannin’ to take care of her.”

“Yes.”

Bill nodded once. Then said calmly: “Alright.”

Joel blinked. “…Alright?”

Bill shrugged. “You have my permission.”

Frank raised a bottle of soda from the fridge. “Wow,” he said. “That was way less violent than I expected.”

Bill shot him a look. Then turned back to Joel. But his voice softened slightly.

“…You hurt her,” he said quietly, “I will bury you somewhere so deep no one will ever find you, capish?”

Joel nodded once. He believed him. Completely. “Fair.”

From the living room Sarah shouted: “DAD I WON.”

Frank leaned out. “You absolutely did not.”

Bill shook his head. Then looked back at Joel. “…When are you askin’ her?”

Joel rubbed the back of his neck. “Soon.”

Bill studied him for another moment. “You got a ring yet?”

Joel shook his head. “Not yet.”

A small voice behind them said: “…So that means you can’t do it now, right?”

Joel turned. Sarah was standing in the hallway, halfway between the living room and the kitchen, trying very hard to look innocent.

He sighed. “You were supposed to be playing chess.”

“I was,” she said quickly. “But Uncle Frank cheats.”

From the living room Frank called: “That is a malicious lie.”

Sarah ignored him completely and looked back at Joel. “So Uncle Bill said yes?”

Bill folded his arms. “I said he can ask her.”

Sarah’s entire face lit up like someone had plugged her into electricity. She bounced once on her toes.

Joel pointed a finger at her immediately. “Still a secret.”

“I know!” Her voice dropped to a fierce whisper. “I didn’t tell her.”

Frank wandered in from the living room with a soda in his hand. “That kid’s got better self-control than most adults I know.”

Sarah leaned closer to Joel. “So now you have to get the ring.”

Joel raised an eyebrow. “Do I.”

“Yes,” she said firmly. “That’s how it works.”

Bill snorted quietly.

Joel crouched down so he was eye level with her. “And you’re still not telling Juliet.”

Sarah zipped her lips dramatically. Then she leaned even closer. “But she’s gonna say yes.”

Joel looked at her with a surprised expression on his face. “Oh yeah?”

Sarah grinned. “Obviously.”

Frank chuckled.

Bill shook his head slowly, but when he looked back at Joel there was something calmer in his expression now. Something settled.

Sarah tugged Joel’s sleeve. “So when are we getting the ring?”

Joel straightened. “Real soon. Maybe we can ask someone to entertain Juliet on Saturday?” he said, looking at Bill and Frank.

Sarah gasped.

Frank raised his soda. “Well now I’m emotionally invested.”

Bill muttered: “Lord help us.”

***********

Joel and Sarah got home before you did. The house felt unusually quiet. Sarah kicked off her shoes halfway through the hallway and spun toward him immediately.

Joel hung his keys on the hook by the door, still feeling something strange sitting in his chest. It wasn’t nerves… Not exactly. Just… the weight of it. It was real now.

Sarah bounced onto the couch. “So when do we get the ring?”

Joel gave her a look. “Saturday.”

She clapped once, barely containing herself. “Oh my God.”

He pointed at her again. “Still a secret.”

“I know, I know,” she said quickly, zipping her lips with theatrical seriousness.

Joel shook his head, amused. Then he went to the kitchen and leaned against the counter, staring absently out the window. It was real. He was actually going to ask you to marry him.

For a long time after Sarah’s mom left… he’d been sure that part of his life was over. Not even in a bitter way. 

He’d had Sarah. That had been enough. More than enough. But then you had walked into their lives like you belonged there.

Joel heard the front door open.

Sarah shot off the couch like a rocket. “JULIET!”

Joel straightened slightly.

You stepped inside, dropping your bag onto the small bench by the door. “Well hello to you too,” you laughed as Sarah wrapped herself around your waist.

“How bad was the lease thing?” Joel asked.

You sighed. “Exactly as stupid as expected.”

You brushed your hair back from your face as you stepped further into the house. There was something about you like this that always got him. No makeup left from the day. Hair a little messy from the wind. Still talking about work like it mattered. Just… you.

You looked up and caught him watching. “What?”

Joel shook his head slightly. “Nothin’.”

But he couldn’t stop the small smile that pulled at the corner of his mouth. Because standing there in the kitchen, watching you laugh with Sarah about something dumb Wendy had said… All he could think was the same thing that had been sitting in his chest all afternoon. God, he couldn’t wait to ask you.

After Sarah’s mom, he’d honestly believed he’d never want to get married. Never even thought about it. And now? Now the idea of spending the rest of his life with you didn’t scare him. It felt right. Like something he should’ve done a long time ago.

And he couldn’t wait to make it real.

*************

Saturday afternoon you had been successfully detained by Bill and Frank. Bill had called the day before about an old easement dispute involving the strip of land behind Frank’s workshop; something about a neighbor claiming access through a back fence that had apparently existed for decades.

You had rolled your eyes at the dramatics but agreed to come take a look.

By early afternoon you were probably sitting at their kitchen table surrounded by faded survey maps, property records, and a stack of county filings that Frank had unearthed from a battered folder. It was exactly the kind of small but messy legal puzzle you couldn’t resist.

Bill had agreed to pretend to argue about where the property line used to run. Frank would make coffee and add new documents to the pile every twenty minutes.

And you, fully absorbed in untangling twenty years of paperwork, had absolutely no idea you were being expertly stalled.

Across town, Joel parked the truck in front of a small jewelry store tucked between a bakery and a tailor. He cut the engine and looked up at the sign. It wasn’t flashy, but it didn’t look like a pawn shop either. Clean windows. Polished brass lettering. A display case visible through the glass.

Joel exhaled quietly. “…Alright.”

Sarah was already halfway out of the truck before he finished the word. “COME ON.”

Joel grabbed her backpack before she could sprint across the sidewalk. She was practically vibrating. 

“Is Tommy there?”

Joel glanced toward the door. Sure enough, Tommy was leaning against the brick wall beside it, sunglasses pushed up on his head and a soda in his hand. 

He grinned the second he saw them. “Well look who finally showed up.”

Sarah ran straight at him. “UNCLE TOMMY.”

He caught her easily in a hug. “Hey there, troublemaker.”

Joel walked up behind her, eyeing the storefront again. “…This actually looks legit.”

Tommy scoffed. “Hey.” He jerked a thumb toward the door. “Not all my guys are criminals.”

Joel raised an eyebrow. “…That implies some of them are.”

Sarah grabbed Joel’s sleeve and started pulling him toward the door. “Come on, come on, come on!!”

Joel dug his heels in for half a second. “Sarah-”

But she was already dragging him inside.

The shop was warm and quiet, glass display cases running along the walls with soft lights reflecting off rows of rings.

Sarah pressed both hands against the nearest case like she’d just discovered treasure. 

“Oh my GOD.”

The owner looked up from the loupe he’d been using when the bell over the door chimed.

His eyes landed on Tommy first. “…Well. If it isn’t trouble.”

Tommy spread his arms. “Steve. You say that like you’re not happy to see me.”

“I’m not,” Steve said calmly. Then his eyes moved to Joel. He studied him for a second. “…This the brother?”

Tommy nodded. “Yep.”

Steve leaned forward slightly on the glass counter.

Joel shifted a little under the inspection. “…What.”

Steve shrugged. “Just checking.”

“Checking what.”

“That you look like someone who won’t panic halfway through this.”

Tommy barked a laugh. “Oh he will.”

Joel shot him a look. “Shut up.”

Sarah popped up beside the counter. “He’s not panicking.”

Tommy looked down at her. “Yet.”

Steve chuckled and opened a drawer beneath the counter.

“Alright then,” he said, placing a velvet tray on the glass between them. “Let’s see what we can do.”

Three rings rested on the tray. Nothing huge. Nothing flashy. Just clean, simple settings.

Joel leaned in slightly. Sarah climbed onto the stool beside him so she could see better. Tommy folded his arms, watching the whole thing like it was entertainment.

Steve slid the first ring forward. “Round diamond. Half carat. Classic solitaire.”

Joel squinted at it. “…Half a carrot?”

Tommy slapped the counter. “Carat. CARAT.”

Sarah giggled.

Joel shrugged. “Sounded like a vegetable.”

Steve chuckled quietly. “That one’s twelve hundred.”

Joel’s breath stopped. “…Jesus.”

Steve slid the second ring forward.

“Three-quarter carat.”

The diamond caught the light a little brighter.

Sarah leaned closer. “Ooooh.”

Joel looked at the small tag beside it. “…Eighteen hundred.”

He sucked air through his teeth.

Tommy leaned over the counter. “That’s a good stone.”

Joel muttered, “That’s a lotta money.”

Steve didn’t say anything. He simply watched Joel’s face. Then he reached back into the drawer.

“Let’s try a few others.”

He placed another tray on the counter. Four more rings this time. Different bands. Slightly different settings. Nothing overly ornate.

Joel leaned in again.

Sarah immediately pointed. “That one’s huge.”

Steve shook his head. “That one’s two thousand eight hundred.”

Joel slid it gently back toward the tray. “Yeah… no.”

Tommy snorted. “Budget man.”

Joel ignored him.

Steve slid another one forward. “This one’s fifteen hundred.”

Joel studied it. “…Feels a little busy.”

Sarah shook her head. “Juliet wouldn’t like all those tiny sparkles.”

Steve nodded approvingly. “Fair point.”

He swapped it out for another. A princess cut diamond, not too big, not too small.  Simple band. Clean. Quiet.

Joel leaned closer. Sarah leaned closer too. Neither of them said anything for a second.

Then Joel murmured, “…That’s nice.”

Sarah nodded immediately. “That one.”

Joel glanced at her. “You decided quick.”

She shrugged. “Juliet doesn’t like fancy.”

Steve nodded. “That one’s eighteen hundred.”

Joel rubbed the back of his neck. “…Yeah.”

Tommy leaned across the counter immediately. “Alright Steve. Friend-of-a-friend price.”

Steve sighed like a man who had heard this line too many times.

“I already gave it to you.”

Tommy shook his head. “You can do better.”

Steve looked at Joel. Then at Sarah.Then back at Tommy. A small pause.

“…Fourteen hundred.”

Joel didn’t hesitate. “Sold.”

Tommy grinned like a little kid. “See? Negotiation.”

Steve boxed the ring carefully in a small velvet case and slid it across the glass.

Joel gave him his credit card and picked the ring up slowly. It barely weighed anything. But it felt heavier than he expected.

Sarah leaned toward him, whispering loudly. “Juliet’s gonna cry.”

Joel groaned. “She better not.”

Sarah grinned. “She will.”

Tommy nudged Joel’s shoulder. “So.”

Joel slipped the ring box into his jacket pocket. “…Yeah.”

Sarah bounced once on the stool. “When are you doing it?”

Joel exhaled slowly. Then he rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and looked down at the counter.

“…God.”

Tommy smirked. “What.”

Joel shook his head. “…Now I gotta actually ask her.”

Tommy smile immediately. “Yeah,” he said. “That’s usually the part that comes next.”

Joel shot him a look. “Very helpful.”

Steve chuckled under his breath as he finished writing the receipt.

“Don’t worry,” he said calmly. “Most men look about the same right now.”

Joel frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean.”

Steve slid the receipt across the counter. “Terrified.”

Sarah gasped. “He’s not terrified.”

Joel muttered, “I’m not terrified.”

Tommy leaned closer.

“You’re absolutely terrified.” He watched him for a second, then nudged his shoulder again. “So what’s the plan.”

Joel glanced at him. “…Plan?”

“Yeah,” Tommy said. “You gonna ask her in the kitchen? The driveway? During grocery shopping?”

Sarah looked horrified. “You can’t do it during groceries.”

Joel sighed. “I haven’t figured that part out yet.”

Tommy grinned. “Romantic.”

Joel shoved the receipt into his jacket pocket. “I’ll figure it out.”

Sarah hopped down from the stool. “You should do it somewhere nice.”

Joel looked at her. “…Define nice.”

She thought about it very seriously. “Not the driveway.”

Tommy laughed. “That’s solid advice.”

Joel shook his head and turned toward the door. “Alright.”

Sarah grabbed his arm immediately. “So are we going now?”

Joel stopped. “…Now?”

“To ask her.”

Tommy laughed so hard he had to grab the counter.

Joel stared at his daughter. “Kid, your Juliet’s still at Bill’s untanglin’ property maps. And I’m not doin’ it today… my heart’s already had enough excitement for one afternoon.”

Sarah thought about that. “Oh.”

Tommy clapped Joel on the back. “Relax.”

Joel exhaled slowly. He could still feel the little box sitting in his jacket pocket. Heavy. Real.

Tommy opened the door for them. “C’mon,” he said. “Let’s get you home before you pass out.”

Joel stepped outside into the afternoon sun.

Sarah bounced beside him all the way to the truck. “Do we tell Uncle Bill when it happens?”

Joel opened the door and looked down at her. “No.”

“Why?”

Joel climbed into the driver’s seat. “Because if Bill shows up while I’m proposing, he’ll turn it into a lecture.”

Tommy leaned into the window from the sidewalk. “Fair.”

Joel started the engine. For a moment he just sat there, one hand on the steering wheel. Then he reached into his pocket. Pulled the small velvet box out. Looked at it once more. Still couldn’t quite believe it.

Sarah leaned over the center console. “Open it again.”

Joel sighed. “…You just saw it.”

“Just once more.”

He opened the box. The diamond caught the sunlight for a second.

Sarah grinned. “Yeah.”

Joel closed it again and slipped it back into his pocket.

Tommy tapped the truck roof twice. “Well?”

Joel looked ahead through the windshield. “…Yeah.”

He put the truck in gear. Time to go home. And ask you to marry him. Eventually.

**************

Joel made it almost forty-eight hours before the paranoia started.

At first it was just the weight of the ring in his jacket pocket. Then the realization that jackets didn’t live in pockets. They lived in closets. Closets that you opened. Closets that you organized. Which meant the ring could be discovered at any moment by the most observant woman Joel had ever met.

So the ring moved. From the jacket pocket… to the toolbox in the garage. From the toolbox… to the glove compartment of the truck. From the glove compartment… to the coffee tin above the fridge.

By Wednesday morning it was inside a sock in the back of his dresser. Joel stood there staring at the drawer like it owed him money.

“What you doin’?”

He turned. Tommy was leaning against the bedroom doorframe with a soda in his hand, watching like this was the most entertaining thing that had happened all week.

“Nothin’.”

Tommy nodded slowly. “Right.”

Joel shut the drawer.

Tommy walked in and sat on the edge of the bed. “…You moved it again.”

Joel glared at him. “She’s gonna find it.”

Tommy took a sip of his soda. “Joel.”

“She reorganized the pantry last night.”

“…And?”

“And she sorted everything alphabetically."

Tommy blinked. “…Okay that is a little terrifying.”

Joel paced once across the room. “What if she opens the drawer?”

Tommy pointed at it. “She opens drawers every day.”

Joel stopped. “…Exactly.”

Tommy laughed. “You’re losing your damn mind.”

Joel muttered something under his breath.

Tommy leaned back on his hands, grinning. “So when are you actually gonna do it?”

Joel rubbed his face. “I don’t know.”

“You bought the ring four days ago.”

“I know.”

“And?”

“And I ain’t figured out how to ask her yet.”

Tommy stared at him. “…Joel.”

“What.”

“You raised a kid by yourself and you’re scared of asking a woman to marry you?”

Joel scowled. “That ain’t the same.”

Tommy laughed. “Oh it absolutely is.”

Joel sat down on the edge of the dresser. “She deserves… somethin’ good.”

Tommy nodded. “Alright.”

Joel gestured vaguely with one hand. “I ain’t exactly a poetry guy.”

“No,” Tommy agreed. “You are extremely not.”

Joel ignored him. “And I don’t wanna just blurt it out in the kitchen like an idiot.”

Tommy thought for a second. Then he snapped his fingers.

“Date night.”

Joel looked at him. “…Date night.”

“Yeah,” Tommy said. “Fancy dinner. You two go out. Nice place.”

Joel frowned slightly. “…Fancy.”

“Yeah.”

Joel thought about it. You dressed up sometimes when you two went out. Hair down. Nice dress. Laughing at something he said. It didn’t feel impossible.

Joel nodded slowly. “…That could work.”

Tommy grinned. “There we go.”

Joel stood up. 

“…Yeah.” Then he paused. “Wait.”

Tommy already looked tired. “What now.”

Joel gestured vaguely again. “How do I get her out without makin’ it obvious.”

Tommy stared at him. “…You ask her to dinner.”

Joel frowned. “…Just like that.”

Tommy sighed. “Yes, Joel.”

Joel considered it. “…Alright.”

Tommy shook his head, standing up. “Unbelievable.”

Joel grabbed the drawer and opened it again. The little velvet box sat there inside the sock. Still waiting. Still terrifying. Joel picked it up and stared at it for a second. Then closed the drawer again.

“…Okay.”

Tommy walked toward the door. “Try not to move it six more times tonight.”

Joel didn’t answer… Because he was already thinking about a new hiding spot.

****************

The ring was back in the drawer. Again. A week and a half later. But it suddenly felt like a terrible idea. Again.

You opened drawers all the time. Not because you were snooping; because you lived there. 

He stared at the dresser for another moment. Then he opened the drawer again. The little velvet box sat inside the sock, exactly where he’d left it yesterday. Waiting.

Joel picked it up. The hinge clicked softly when he opened it. The diamond caught the light from the bedside lamp. It looked smaller than he remembered. Simple. Exactly what you would like. 

Joel closed the box again quickly, like it might accuse him of something. Then he stood there with it in his hand for a long moment.

It had been nearly two weeks since he bought it. Two weeks of telling himself tomorrow. Two weeks of almost asking you to dinner and then losing his nerve somewhere between the kitchen and the living room. Two weeks of moving the ring from place to place like it was contraband. And somehow it had only gotten harder.

He had been so sure. Two weeks ago the idea had felt easy. Obvious. He’d seen the ring in the store and thought, ‘that’s it’. Thought, ‘of course she’ll say yes’.

But now the thought had changed shape. Now it sounded different in his head:

What if she laughs.

Not cruelly. You were not cruel. But surprised. Like the idea had never even crossed your mind. Like he’d misunderstood something.

What if she says no. What if you look at him the way you sometimes did when he said something stubborn or ridiculous; half amused, half exasperated.

Joel. Of course I love you. But marriage?

The thought twisted somewhere in his chest. Because loving someone and wanting to marry them weren’t the same thing. And you had never explicitly said you wanted that. He had just… assumed.

The way you’d folded into their lives. The way you laughed with Sarah. The way you reached for him in bed without even thinking about it. But assumptions were dangerous. Joel knew that better than anyone.