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Finally, Jake was driving through the sweltering San Diego streets towards the address his mom had texted him. She’d said their hotel was new, so "it had better be good". He was pleasantly surprised to see the hotel was a mere two blocks from The Hard Deck. It was new, the exterior a sun bleached white stucco with black accents. 

A blast of air conditioning greeted Jake as he entered, but it was nothing compared to the hug his mother pulled him into just seconds later. 

“Jake!” she exclaimed, her voice a mixture of excitement and relief. Jake responded only by holding her more tightly and humming into her hair. Her scent was familiar and comforting, nearly bringing tears to his eyes. Pulling away, Jake reached out to hug his father as well. What a lucky guy I am, Jake thought.

“Now, where are you taking your parents to eat?” Mama Seresin asked. Jake laughed. 

“Well, what sounds good? I’ll be honest, I haven’t been around town much.” 

“Let’s ask the front desk,” mama says, making towards the sleek marble counter. A tight-laced looking guy stands there; the kind Jake would have called a string bean if he weren’t trying to mind his manners in front of mama. 

“Excuse me, sir, could you give us some recommendations for somewhere to have dinner?” she asks sweetly. 

“There’s some brochures in the breakfast room,” he says curtly, immediately bringing a frown to Mrs. Seresin’s face. Jake opens his mouth to tell him where he can shove his brochures when a woman Jake hadn’t noticed in the shadows behind him makes herself known. 

“Allow me,” she says, practically hip-checking the other employee out of the way. “Are we wanting to try some of the local flavor?” 

I sure do, Jake thinks. The girl is pretty. Not in the typical San Diego girl way. She’s sun kissed but not overly tan, she’s got muscle and a body, not the skeletal figure of too many of the local girls who frequent The Hard Deck, trying to pick up a pilot. She must live here, or she wouldn’t work here, but Jake somehow doubts that she’s from here. There’s a twinge of an accent in her voice. 

“I think that sounds lovely, dear. Where do you recommend?” 

“There’s a cantina just down the road that serves the best tamales. There’s usually no wait and they don’t take reservations, otherwise I’d call ahead for you.” 

“Well, if there isn’t a little southern hospitality left outside of Texas. You have been most helpful, dear. What’s your name?” The woman sticks out a hand, gives her name, and introduces herself as the hotel manager. 

“You must be from a southern state,” Mama Seresin assumes. 

“Sort of, ma’am,” the woman replies awkwardly. “I’m from Missouri.” 

Mama Seresin’s smile shows a flash of confusion for a moment before perkily replying, “Well, close enough! Thank you so much, dear. Come on, gentlemen!” As the family retreats, it doesn’t escape the hotel manager’s notice the way Jake’s eyes stay on her as he walks away, giving a quick wink just before stepping through the front doors. 

____________

Jake’s time with his family flies by, and he doesn’t see the cute hotel manager again. Saying goodbye before they leave for their late evening flight is more painful than he would ever say aloud. 

He knows he probably shouldn’t, but he heads to The Hard Deck after dropping them at the airport for a beer or two. Finding an empty stool at the bar, he begins to nurse his pint, not feeling up to pool or darts or any of his usual exploits. None of his pilot buddies are there yet anyway, it’s too early for them. He may try to duck out before any of them arrive in order to have some more alone time before having to face everyone at training again tomorrow. 

A boisterous laugh echoes across the room, and Jake looks towards the sound reflexively. It’s her - the hotel manager. She’s no longer dressed in her professional blazer, but a casual tank top. Something Penny and/or some old regular just said must’ve made her laugh. There’s a cocktail glass in her hand, but no friends in sight. 

Better yet, no boyfriend Jake thinks, climbing off of the stool to approach her. 

“Hey, Missouri,” he says as he draws closer, leaning against the bar near her. 

“Hello!” she replies cheerfully as though she’s still at work. “How did my dinner recommendation turn out?” 

“Delicious, thank you. The tamales were quite good.”

“Well, good! Can’t wait to go try them myself,” she says, taking a sip of her drink. 

“Wait…” Jake starts. “You haven’t eaten there yet? Then how’d you recommend it?” 

“I have spent an ungodly amount of time scouring reviews of everywhere within a 10 mile radius. That place had some of the best, and everyone mentioned the tamales.”

“Are you saying…you lied to my mother?” Jake says, both shocked and amazed. The woman laughs into her drink and her cheeks flush pink, making Jake wonder how many drinks she’s had. 

“Well, I can’t try everywhere at once. I’m working through it, though. That’s why I’m here tonight. A bar within walking distance of the hotel? I’ll recommend it all day and night if it’s good, which…” she looks into her glass and then back at Jake. “It is.” 

“Is that part of a hotel manager’s job?” he asks. 

“It is if you want to be a good one,” she answers, eyebrows hiking up. 

“And are you? A good one?”

“I’d like to think so, or I at least want to be. This is my first time,” she admits. 

“As a hotel manager?” 

“During the day, anyway. I’ve been a night auditor in a few different places.”

“And how did a girl from Missouri end up all the way here in San Diego? That’s a long way from home,” Jake smirks and sips his beer. She smirks back to let him know that she’s onto his little game. 

“I have family here. You’re not from here either I’m guessing, given that your parents stayed in my hotel to see you. Where are you from, Captain Obvious?” 

“It’s Lieutenant.” 

This response causes her to nearly choke to death on the drink she was taking a sip of. Penny looks over to see what the fuss is. 

“He has that effect on people, sweetie!” Penny hollers. 

When she has stopped coughing and taken another sip to clear her throat, she speaks again. 

“Was that to be funny, or…?” 

“No, I’m really a Lieutenant, from Texas but stationed here at the moment. Lieutenant Jake Seresin, nice to meet you…again,” he says, offering her a hand. She shakes politely but doesn’t reintroduce herself. 

“Nice to meet you,” she says. 

Just then, a group of fellow pilots enters the crowded bar. Spotting Jake, one comes over and claps a hand enthusiastically to his shoulder. 

“Hangman! Come on, man, rack ‘em up with me!” the guy shouts. 

“Hangman?” she asks. 

“Call sign. Old Navy tradition,” he says to her. “I’m a little busy at the moment, guys,” he replies to his friends.

“It’s okay,” she says, climbing down from her stool and getting out a card to close her tab with Penny. “I should get going anyway, I have a ton of paperwork to get done.” 

Reluctantly, Jake pulls away from the bar. 

“I guess I’ll see you around, Missouri,” he calls to her. 

“Not a chance, Tex,” she replies, smiling and turning away.

—-

The next day, Jake is perusing cottage cheese options at the grocery store when someone bumps into him. Literally - her body collides with his, no doubt from lack of attention. The woman stands and immediately begins apologizing, but stops dead in her tracks when her eyes lock with his. 

“I am so sorry, I was not looking where I-“

“Hey, Missouri,” Jake says flirtatiously. She attempts to speak, but each word she starts gets lost somewhere between her brain and her mouth, so Jake fills in the blanks for her. “Funny running into you here.” His tone drips with arrogance, like he knows just how much his sudden reappearance has thrown her and he wants to revel in it. 

“Are you stalking me?” she asks, but there’s a lightheartedness to her tone.

“I could say the same for you,” he retorts. 

“Fair enough. I’m sorry for running into you, I guess I got carried away looking for yogurt.” 

"I'll chalk that up as the weirdest excuse someone has given for trying to get my attention," Jake says smoothly. 

"Ah-" she starts, clearly outraged but with a smile on her face. "I was not!" she finally says. 

"No, it's okay!" he says. "I'm irresistible, I know."

"Whatever makes you feel better," she quips back. 

"What would make me feel better is if you'd just, you know, give it up and let me take you out properly." 

A surprised smile stretches across her face as she crosses her arms. 

"Is that what you think I've been trying to do?" Her tone is still casual, playful. Jake simply maintains eye contact, even giving her that signature wrinkle of his nose to really drive home the point: he doesn't need to say anything more, because they both know the mutual desire is there.

"Ohhh..kay, I'm gonna get my yogurt now." Jake smiles and rolls his eyes as she does just that. When was she going to give up the "hard to get" act? Jake reaches back as well, selecting a container of cottage cheese. 

"Come on, sweetheart. Let me show you how we do it here in Fightertown, USA."

"Oh, now you've ticked me off in more ways than one," she says, tossing her selected yogurt into her cart and pulling it around to face the direction she intends on moving, but a laugh threatens to bubble out of her. 

"How so?" Jake asks, his brow knitted in confusion. 

"You called me 'sweetheart' and you eat cottage cheese." She begins pushing her cart away from the dairy section. Jake remains, dumbfounded. 

"What's wrong with cottage cheese?" he calls to her retreating figure. 

"It's disgusting!" 

_________________

That night, Jake lay on the couch and did something he had never really done before - he searched for her on Facebook. He knew her name, her home state, and her current city and occupation, but it still took a while to find her. The posts on her profile were frustratingly private, but it did answer the most basic questions he had about this mysterious girl. Was she in a relationship? Was that why she was always rejecting his advances? No, her profile said "Single". Was she gay? Also no, a deep dive of her "About Me" said she was interested in men. He figured she would have said something a lot sooner if either of those things had been true, but you never knew. 

Jake couldn't decide if this whole experience was new because women didn't generally reject him or because he didn't generally chase a woman this way. In fairness, she'd never technically said "no", she just deflected. Frustrated and confused, Jake ran both hands through his hair before turning on a show to calm his mixed-up feelings.

_________________

"I don't know mom, she just...isn't biting on anything," Jake tells his mom through FaceTime a few days later. Some people may assume the ever-confident, always-"on" Jake Seresin wouldn't discuss the minor details of his love life with his mother, but they'd be wrong. He always leaves out the more colorful details, of course. 

"Well, just go talk to her! You know where she works," Mama Seresin replies. 

"Mom. It's not 1958, I'll look like a stalker if I do that," he says.

"Whatever you say, dear. Oh! Did I tell you about..." Jake's mind swirls more as his mother updates him on more gossip and neighborhood news from home. Maybe it's time to move on, give up on this girl. She clearly doesn't want to be courted, so why waste the mental energy? But a part of him nags that she's worth whatever it takes to break down the walls she's put up between them. 

"Jake? Jacob Michael, are you listening to me?" Mama snaps. Ah, shit. Middle name.

"I'm sorry mom, I got distracted," he admits. 

"Well, if you're gonna be distracted, might as well be useful. I need you to run by that hotel your father and I stayed at." Jake's heart pounds. Where she works? Why?

"What for?"

"Your daddy thinks he left his glasses in the desk drawer. You know how he is with those damn things. Insurance won't cover a new pair for 6 months and with his lenses alone we're looking at over a hundred dollars, not to mention whatever the hell frames he wants, and-"

"I got it, mama. I'll run by there this afternoon."

_________________

Why the hell am I nervous? Jake wonders as he approaches the front desk of the hotel. So far, it didn't even look like she was there. If she was, she at least wasn't the one working the desk. He couldn't decide if he would be relieved or disappointed if he made it out of here without seeing her and getting another shot at convincing her. 

Just as it was his turn in line, the phone at the desk rang. The gentleman working the desk called her name, the one that occupied so much of his brain at the moment. The man answered the phone, turning his attention away from the line in front of him. Presumably from the back office, she appears and looks astonished to see him standing there. 

"Good afternoon, Lieutenant. What can I do for you?" she says, remaining professional but with a new look of intrigue on her face. Too late, Jake realizes this is the first time she's seen him in any kind of uniform, still in his service khakis from work that day. 

"Afternoon, ma'am," he says, tipping his head in her direction cordially. "My mother and father stayed here last week, in room 510, and they fear they may have left a pair of eyeglasses behind in the desk drawer."

"Let me go check the lost and found, I'll be right back," she answers, dazzling him with that smile of hers. She returns shortly, no glasses in hand. 

"I didn't find them, but there's no one in that room right now and no one has stayed there since your parents checked out. If you'd like, we can run up there and take a look?" she offers. 

"That would be great, thank you." 

"Want me to take him?" the front desk guy says, now finished with the phone call. Not taking her eyes off of Jake, she answers him. 

"No, I've got it. You finish helping the rest of these lovely people out."

The elevator ride to the room is quiet but not awkward. Jake can almost sense every modicum of professionalism in her body working to keep something inside, to hold her back in some way. Inside, they scour every drawer and cabinet and look under the beds for the missing glasses, to no avail. 

"I'm sorry, Lieutenant Seresin, doesn't look like they're here," she says regretfully. 

“That’s alright, Missouri. They’re probably in my dad’s pocket but at least now I can say I looked.”

“True,” she chuckles. 

“You know, I usually take a girl out for dinner before bringing her to the bedroom,” he teases. She scoffs. 

“Oh, my God. I walked right into that one, didn’t I?” 

“Literally,” Jake smirks. “Maybe we can rewind and do it right this time.” Jake steps closer to her, causing her breath to catch in her chest. 

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re very persistent?” 

“Not since last week,” he says, getting a chuckle out of both of them. 

“Lieutenant S-“

“Call me Jake,” he interrupts. 

“Jake,” she says slowly. “I’m sorry, I just-“ her eyes dart to her feet and she bites her lower lip before looking up at him. She squints up like he’s as bright as the sun. “I just moved here. I don’t do one night stands. I don’t have the capacity for a relationship right now.” She says each sentence like they're bullet points; a rehearsed rejection.

Jake swears he feels part of him begin to bruise, and not his ego this time. 

“I understand,” he says, still gazing at her…lovingly? He winks. “Let me know when you’ve got room for me, huh?” 

Looking all too much like a starry-eyed school girl, she replies, “I will.”

Back in the car, Jake tries to shake off his disappointment by calling his mom to update her on the glasses situation.  

“Jakey?” she answers. 

“Hey, mama. I just went by the hotel, they didn’t have dad’s glasses.” 

“What glasses? Your dad’s glasses are on his face?”

“You asked me to-“ Jake stops mid sentence as the realization dawns on him. 

“Mom!” he exclaims, hearing his mom’s raucous laughter in the background. 

_________________

The next night, Jake’s friends drag him to The Hard Deck to try and cheer him up from whatever it is that’s bothering him, since he doesn’t seem keen on sharing with them. They encourage him to put his moves on some new lady. Despite his reservations, he figures it can’t hurt. He’s surprised by his own behavior when he scans the bar, not only looking for a potential lady but looking for her. If she’s here, he won’t be able to bring himself to talk to anyone else. She’s magnetic, that one. 

He doesn’t spot her, but does spot a nice looking gal hanging a little too close to the dart board to just be a fan of darts. Approaching her and putting on the charm is like muscle memory, but there’s a soreness in the muscle. He can feel how much he wishes he was putting all this charisma down for her, not the woman in front of him, pretty and nice as she may be. 

An hour and a few drinks later, Jake has Allie, as she introduced herself, on the dance floor. Spinning around, Jake wonders if it’s too early to try and get her out of here. Moreso, he isn’t sure he even wants to. The distraction has been nice, but bringing her back to his place doesn’t have the same impact it would have before meeting a certain hotel manager. 

On one of many spins, Jake loses all sense of balance. Not physically, but emotionally. All because he spots her across the bar, standing at a high top table and having a conversation with another guy. What the hell is she doing? What happened to “not having the capacity to date right now”? 

Jake is this close to marching up to her to ask her just that when Allie drags him to the bar for another drink. His eyes dart over to her every few seconds. At first, her interactions with the guy seem casual. Jake can tell from the way the guy shifts his body and looks between her eyes and her lips more frequently that he wants the conversation to be less casual. There’s no way she’ll reciprocate…right?  

_________________

She hadn’t noticed Jake and his date on the other side of the bar. She'd remained steadily focused on her job for the evening - entertaining her boss's son, who'd unexpectedly rolled into town that day. She, like Jake had, scoured the landscape of the bar upon her arrival, but didn’t manage to lay eyes on the aviator who seemed hell bent on flying around her mind all day and night. That is, until she hears his voice boom over the din of the room. Looking over, she watches as a girl drags him to the dance floor. Wait - had he or had he not just insinuated that when she was ready to date, he’d be there? She thought that meant he’d be waiting for her…this sure didn’t look like waiting. But...who was she kidding? A guy like him and a girl like her? She was lucky he’d even been so persistent. If she’d wanted him, she should have let him in when he tried the first several times. 

But oh, did she want him. So, so badly. She couldn’t admit that the fear of her previous relationship’s failure - the one that had sent her on this journey to get a job as far away from home as possible - was what was keeping her from entering into a relationship so soon. Ruminating on her regret stoked a fire in her chest - if he could move on so quickly, why couldn’t she? 

In a snap decision, she purposefully leaned closer and “turned it on” as her friends always told her to do: allowing her eyes to drift to parts of Liam other than his eyes, sipping her drink a little more sensually, but still holding back just a bit so she could defend herself if she were accused of being unprofessional. She couldn’t help but feel that Liam wasn’t exactly interested in remaining strictly professional. 

_________________

Across the bar, Jake was nearly turning red with frustration. Splitting his attention between Allie and the date over at the high top table, he couldn’t help but notice the changes in her body language. The way she leaned in, the way she damn near batted her eyelashes at this guy. What did he have that Jake didn’t? Jake resented the seed of self-doubt she’d planted in his chest. 

He continued to watch as she actually brushed her hand down his arm. 

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” Jake mutters under his breath.

“What’s that?” Allie asked. 

“Nothing, darling. Not a damn thing,” he replied, gritting his teeth a little as he looked back over at them. He began formulating a plan for intercepting their little tête-à-tête somehow when, lo and behold, someone unplugged the jukebox, sending a round of groans throughout the room. Jake had been around long enough to realize what was happening. Sure enough, moments later, someone started up a song on the piano. Looking up and over the crowd, Jake spotted - who else? - Bradley at the keys. Normally, Bradley’s piano peacocking would annoy him, but tonight, it was his chance. 

“Let’s get closer!” Allie begs, grabbing around Jake’s bicep.

“You go on, I gotta do something real fast,” he shouts in order to be heard over the cheers and initial notes of Rooster’s song. Allie smiles and rushes off to get closer to the piano.

Before his targets can do the same, Jake hustles to the opposite side of the bar. Unsure if it's the beer in his system or something else making him so bold, Jake walks right up behind her and touches a gentle hand to her elbow as he says her name. 

“Can I talk to you for a second?” Her forehead knits and unknits just as quickly before she turns to her date, excusing herself. Jake carefully guides her out to the deck, closing the door behind them to muffle the sounds of the music inside. It’s much calmer on the deck, the sun just about to set on the horizon. The sound of the ocean waves and the faint smell of salt soothes Jake's nerves just a bit. 

“What the hell is going on in there?” Jake asks, as calmly as possible despite his un-holy language. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says modestly, crossing her arms and leaning against the railing, back to the sea.   

“Don’t give me that, Missouri. What happened to being too busy to date?”

“I’m not on a date, Jake. I’m entertaining a VIP guest of the hotel, and yes, that’s part of my job too.”

“Yeah, that looked a lot like a business meeting.” His tone is heavy with sarcasm. 

“Well, it’s not like you did much waiting around, either!” she retorts. Jake snickers, but has no response. If only she knew how truly remarkable it is to render him speechless. 

“What is this, Jake?” she asks. “Why do you care so much, anyway?” Something in her voice seems wounded, like someone who has been hurt before and fully expects to be hurt again. That phrase in and of itself digs into Jake sharply, like a knife. 

Jake's hands find his hips and he looks to the sky, practically begging God to send him the words he needs to convince her to give him a chance. There’s a figurative whisper in his ear - his mom’s voice, reminding him to be himself. But who is he, really? He didn’t want her the way he wanted the girls he usually found at The Hard Deck - in the bedroom sense only. He wanted her for so much more than that. With a heavy sigh, he looks at her once again. 

“I don’t want to pressure you into anything you don’t want. But I want…us. I think that we could be something amazing, and I don’t know if I can go my whole life without finding out if I’m right or not.” His voice cracks on the last sentence, a fact that makes her look stricken, as though she takes accountability for his sudden show of emotion.

Her cheeks are a violent shade of red. Exhaling, she allows her arms to uncross, palms moving to rest on her lower back. She, too, looks to the sky. For her, though, it’s not because she has no words - it’s because she has too many. She fears drowning him with her words, unsure if that would be preferable to the drought she’s already left him in. 

Jake slowly draws closer to her, but remains just barely within arm’s reach. He reaches out a hand to tuck a rogue strand of hair behind her ear. 

“What’s wrong?” he whispers. She lets out a shuddery breath.

“I’m scared,” she admits. 

“Of what?” She sniffles and drops her eyes to her feet. 

“That another person will be so cruel as to pretend to care about me more than they really do.” 

For a minute, the only sounds are the muffled music and cheers from the bar goers inside, the crashing of the waves, the calls of the seagulls swooping down for one last snack.

Jake looks into her face more intently than anyone ever has. He notices that her eyes are no longer on him, but beyond him, through the large windows of the bar. Turning to follow her gaze, he sees exactly what she does - the guy she'd been with inside and Allie, wrapped up in one another like they hadn't both been there with other people less than 5 minutes ago. Jake turns back around.

“I would say it’s their loss, but it’s not.” A look of befuddlement takes over her face, until Jake clarifies. “It’s not their loss because anyone who has done that to you is clearly too stupid to realize what they lost when they walked away from you. You’re too smart, too powerful, too beautiful for them to realize what they’re missing out on. I’m not going to make the same mistake…if you’ll let me prove it.” With each sentence, Jake has inched closer. Their faces are so close they’d be cross eyed if they were trying to make eye contact. That’s probably why, when they both look up, their lips brush one another. With a level of synchronization that can’t be taught, they both reach for the other, pulling each other close. Their lips crash together quietly but inside, there’s an explosion. All the tension and build up to this moment melts into the kiss, like two lovers reunited after years apart instead of practical strangers who met less than two weeks ago. 

---

One Week Prior

You’d never been…regular, you know? “Nothing to worry about,” you’d always been told. “Might have a little trouble conceiving someday, but we’ll cross that bridge when you’re ready,” your doctor had said. Dodge knew this, which was why neither of you’d had a problem forgoing protection now and again. 

It also wasn’t uncommon for you to be nauseous. Hot girls have tummy issues, right? That’s why you didn’t think anything of it when you’d spent two days in a row with barely an appetite, feeling off. Until you’d been at work a few days ago and swore you could smell the fish a co-worker was reheating in the break room from a mile away.

“Oh, I remember when I was pregnant with my youngest, I could smell every little thing for a couple months. Made life miserable!” a different co-worker laughed. An innocent joke, but it got you thinking. That afternoon, you stopped by the drug store on your way home. Desperate, you tore the box open as soon as you got home. To your dismay, the directions specifically stated that test results would be most accurate if taken first thing in the morning. You buried the box in your bag, away from Dodge’s eyes. That night, thoughts raced through your mind at a pace that made it impossible to do or think about much else. 

What should have been the easiest thing was by far the most difficult emotion to decipher. If the test came back positive, would you be happy? Would Dodge? And if it came back negative, would you be sad? Was it possible for both mindsets to coexist? 

Though it caused you great discomfort, you skipped your morning bathroom visit and held it until you arrived at work. Locked safely away from the world, you followed the test directions, setting a timer for the requisite three-minute waiting period. Face buried in your hands, heart pounding, you wait. 

Your phone begins vibrating in your lap. You lift your head to read your results. After a moment of contemplation, you carefully place the test back in its wrapper, then back inside its box. Tucking it in your bag once more, you exit the bathroom. Such a simple act, yet it felt too much like leaving behind one life and entering a whole new one. 

One thing that had been certain, even before you’d taken the test, was that you couldn’t tell Dodge yet. He had been so nervous and worked so hard for this particular rodeo. You’d never forgive yourself if you distracted him with such life-altering news. This decision was affirmed when Dodge met his goal and then some under the starry Texas sky. It may not be the life of most people’s dreams: dirt and sweat, animal odor faintly in the air. Some people only have to hear the word “rodeo” and wrinkle their noses. But to you, there was nowhere else in the world you’d rather be. 

After the night’s events were over and his tasks complete, Dodge found you just behind the bleachers. You extended your arms, thrilled about his victory. His huge grin lit up his face, a far cry from his usual half-smirk. He wrapped his arms around your waist, spinning you around with so much joy. As soon as he’d set your feet safely on the ground, he kissed you. This, too, was something else you’d never trade for all the mansions and luxuries in the world. 

“C’mon, angel. Let’s go celebrate,” he rasped in your ear. 

—

The name of the game became attempted casualness. You listened as he recapped the night from his point of view the entire time you had your late dinner, and even the whole ride home. Now that you were past the only restriction you’d given yourself, it was clear the logical next step was to tell him. But how? You hadn’t thought that far ahead. At home, he’d pecked your cheek and headed off to take a shower. You changed clothes and laid down, exhausted just from the mental load of the past 6 hours. Twenty minutes later, Dodge climbed into bed next to you with damp hair and red skin from the hot water. He wrapped his arms around you from behind, burying his face in your neck.

“Mm. Thank you for being there tonight. Makes me a lot braver when I see your beautiful face in the stands,” he mumbles into you. You turn to face him, placing a hand on his cheek.

“I’ll always be there for you, Andrew Mason.” Your use of his legal name makes him blush and release a sigh of contentment.

“I cannot wait to marry you,” he says. Your heart leaps. 

“You know…” you begin. “We haven’t talked much about…the other stuff that comes with marriage.” He continues smiling, but gives you a puzzled look. 

“Other stuff?” he asks.

“You know, kids, pets, stuff like that,” you respond. 

“Ah, kids!” He says in a spirited tone. Oh, this lovely, funny side of Dodge that only you are ever given the privilege of seeing. “What are you thinking? Just a basketball team’s worth or go all the way for a baseball team?” You laugh in spite of yourself. 

“Seriously!? We are not having 5 kids, much less 9!” you shriek. 

“What?” Dodge says with false incredulity. “Says who?” he jokes. 

“Says the person whose body has to carry and birth these children!”

“To which I again say, says who? We could always adopt a few!” You both chuckle at his lame and unintended rhyme. You both laugh for a moment more, but you allow the laughter to die down into calmer breathing before speaking again. 

“I mean,” you broach carefully. “I’d like to have at least one of our own. A little…you and me all wrapped into one.” The whispered words almost choke you up, only because you are too aware of how close of a reality it is. Dodge looks at you lovingly. 

“I can’t wait, angel.” 

Despite every part of your brain screaming at you, you find the words you need to say. 

“What if you didn’t have to?” you whisper. Dodge’s face slowly changes from lovestruck idiot to dumbfounded.

“What do you mean?” he asks carefully. You stare. He says your name in a scared, questioning tone. 

“I’m pregnant,” you say, voice barely audible. You give him a small smile, despite the fear of his reaction. Dodge sits up, gently pulling his arms away, but never taking his eyes off of you. 

“Are you serious?” he asks. Propping yourself up on one elbow, you assure him that yes, you are pregnant. He continues to stare. You’re beginning to feel shame, fear, and other awful feelings until finally, his lips crash into yours once more. When he pulls away, one hand cups your cheek, thumb rubbing back and forth mindlessly. His face remains close to yours, tears threatening to spill from his eyes, which causes you to tear up as well.

“You’re not mad?” you ask. 

“Mad? I have never been happier in my entire life,” he gushes. “I didn’t think tonight could get any better. But…” he trails off so he can lean back a little and find your lower abdomen with his hand. Rubbing it gently and affectionately, he continues. “We’re having a baby, angel.”

Finally, the game ended. Penny bid the boys goodnight before calling to her helper. 

“Hey, you still want to lock up on your own tonight?”

“Yeah, I got it handled. Have a good night, Penny.” She smiles sweetly and nods at her boss, hoping she doesn’t see that there’s an ulterior motive for wanting to lock up on her own. Penny waves and heads out the door.

Unbeknownst to the young lady, she is still not alone. Neither she nor Penny saw Lieutenant Seresin head into the bathroom instead of heading out the door with his buddies. Her closing duties complete aside from turning off lights and locking the doors, she sits down at the piano. Warming up a bit, she doesn’t hear the lieutenant exit the bathroom and stop in his tracks when he hears the piano and finds her sitting there, no audience in sight. 

Finally, her fingers begin to dance across the keys and play a song. She plays the same melody on repeat for a bit. Jake wonders if he should do something - sneak out, clear this throat, do something to get her attention? He worries that any of the above will startle her. It’s been over a year and Jake has never once told her anything close to the truth about how he feels about her. He loves the way she interacts with customers, friendly and kind to those who are nice to her but can absolutely destroy a rude customer with her words. He noticed how she was scared to ring the bell at first, but now will walk in that direction until she gets an apology from whoever thought they could mess with her. So unbelievably smart for someone so beautiful, though Jake knows to say that out loud would make him sound like an asshole. 

It’s not as though Jake hasn’t tried to talk to her, though. Problem was, when he tried that very first time he ever saw her tending bar, she mentioned a boyfriend. Jake had even seen him once or twice, picking her up or just hanging out at the bar to talk to her. Wrapping an arm around her waist, dipping her into a deep kiss. In his presence, her face lit up with joy. It was clear to any outsider that she loved him, and they were best friends. So Jake kept his distance, but he always wondered if that guy truly reciprocated her feelings. His face never seemed as bright, never as deeply consumed during their interactions the way she was.

Jake is enamored with her playing, and it only gets better when she begins to sing. 

You know I never lied

Went home with someone else 

So why you acting like I put you through some kind of hell?

The first verse pulls Jake under, as though he begins drowning in the same sea of emotion. Was this about that guy? The one Jake had always seen before? Come to think of it, there’d been several nights Jake had come to the bar to find her absent. Ever since, Jake couldn’t recall another night with that guy at the bar or there waiting for her at the end of the night. 

Hate me if you have to

If it helps you sleep at night

Paint me in whatever light

Baby that you want to

Finally, the song fades to an end and the last chords ring out across the empty room. It becomes painfully obvious that Jake must now make his presence known in some way that makes it evident he wasn’t trying to hide from her on purpose. Turning around to find him standing there silently would give stalker vibes. 

“Wow,” is all Jake can muster. She whirls around on the piano bench to lock eyes with the green-eyed pilot, chest heaving with the efforts of the song and now adrenaline coursing through her. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” she accuses. 

“I…I’m sorry,” Jake says, holding up both hands in surrender. “I was in the bathroom and when I came out…well, it’s rude to interrupt a performance.” He’s fairly certain he hears her mutter an expletive under her breath as her hands find her head, rubbing her temples and seemingly trying to wipe humiliation from her features. 

“You heard all of that, huh?” she asks. Jake approaches, hands in pockets, nodding. From the piano bench, she looks up at him, lips pursed. 

“That was…some song,” Jake says, his tone laced with all the things he wants her to know but can’t say. That he understands the meaning of the lyrics, that he’s sorry anyone would ever do anything to make her feel that way. “That why you wanted to lock up alone?” 

“It’s the only time I can ever have a piano to myself.” She seems both sad and frustrated by this.

“You are incredibly talented.”

“Thanks.” She speaks quietly and slowly, as though she’s embarrassed of her own skills. “I’ve been working on that for months. That was probably the best I’ve ever done.”

The pair are silent for a few moments, unsure of where to go from here. Finally, Jake remembers his manners. He sticks out a hand to formally introduce himself, and she returns the gesture, also giving her name. The pair stare at one another for several moments, neither one wanting to break the anticipatory silence. 

“Why are you staring at me?” she finally asks. 

“I’m wishing,” Jake whispers, serious as can be.

“For what?” 

“That I knew what to say or do right now to make sure you don’t ever feel that way again.” There’s no arrogance or inflated sense of self behind his words. They are not empty, a mere catalyst for getting her home. They are real and raw and it surprises even Jake that he let them slip. She raises an eyebrow, looks to her lap, then lets out a quiet, joyless chuckle. 

“Well when you figure it out, let me know, will you?” she says, sounding defeated like she knows he never will because she doesn’t know the answer herself. She closes the lid to the piano, standing and sliding the bench in. She crosses to the bar, double-checking her last minute tasks and grabbing her car keys, all the while leaving Jake to the left of the piano, dumbstruck or perhaps awestruck but most certainly struck with her. When she reaches the door, she gives him a look as if to say, “I can’t leave until you do, so get a move on.” Jake slowly approaches, mind still spinning.

“Would you be open to getting coffee with me in the morning?” he asks cautiously.

“Define ‘morning’” she asks, which throws Jake for a loop, leaving him unable to answer her simple yet mind-boggling question. She locks the door behind them, and they meander to their respective vehicles. 

“Um,” he begins. Her mouth forms a smirk. If he didn’t know any better, Jake would say she was enjoying the amount of control she obviously held here. 

“There’s a reason I work in a bar, Lieutenant. You won’t find me outside of my bed before 9 AM if I have any say in the matter.” 

“9:30 AM it is,” he retorts. She smiles.

“See you then. Goodnight, Jake,” she says.

“Goodnight.” 

In the apartment, y/n let the door shut a bit louder than she would have if she was not trying to rouse Tom from his sleep. Sure enough, he was rubbing his eyes when she walked into their bedroom. 

“Gooood morning, star shine, the earth says ‘hello!’” you said, giggling. Tom chuckled sleepily. 

“Good morning, love, how are y-” Tom stops short when he notices the two Starbucks cups and pastry bag in your hands. “Where have you been?” he asks, almost accusingly. You choose to ignore the change in tone. 

“Um, isn’t it obvious? I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d surprise you!” You smile widely at Tom. 

“Did you walk or Uber?” He asks, still not seeming happy about the unexpected surprise. 

“I walked? Why the twenty questions babe?” 

“Y/n! Why would you walk all the way to Starbucks this early by yourself!?” Tom exclaims. You try to stay calm, but your defensive side kicks in. 

“Why does it matter? I’m a big girl, Tom, I can do what I want.” 

“No, you can’t.” Tom says matter-of-factly. His words feel like a stab to the stomach. 

“Excuse me?” you say, standing up from the bed and placing the cups and pastry bag on the nightstand. Tom wavers. 

“I-i’m sorry, just...don’t do that again without me.”

“No, I’m sorry because I’m not sure what gave you the impression that you get to tell me what to do!” you say, your voice rising and wobbling with impending tears. You can’t decide which you hate more - being told what you can and can’t do, or fighting with the love of your life. 

“You’re a woman in a big city alone - tell me how that isn’t dangerous!” Tom shouts back. He’s standing across the bed from you now. 

“So? That’s my call to make, not yours!” 

“It is my call if you’re going to be my wife!”

“I’m not going to be your wife if that’s how you’re going to treat me!” 

The room echoes with the weight of your words. Tom’s face sinks as he absorbs the meaning of your exclamation. 

“Do you mean that?” he asks, his voice drained of all anger. 

“No,” you reply, your voice hoarse with incoming tears. “I just,” you say, looking at the ceiling to hold the tears in. “I just don’t want to be made to feel that I can’t make my own decisions, take my own risks, you know? I want to marry you, Tom. But I don’t want to be...owned by you.” 

“Oh, babe,” Tom says, tiredly rubbing his face with his hands. He walks around to your side of the bed and pulls you into his embrace. You resist slightly at first, but melt into the hug as soon as you breathe in his familiar scent. 

“I’m sorry, love. I just can’t imagine losing you,” he mumbles into your neck. You take a deep breath. 

“I know, babe. I know.” He pulls away and lightly kisses you, first on the lips, then a lingering kiss to your forehead. His thumbs lazily rub your cheeks. He pulls away and looks you in the eyes. 

“I overreacted. Clearly you’re here and safe and I had nothing to worry about. You were just trying to do something nice and I was a complete jerk about it.”

“Laying it on a bit thick, are we?” you ask, imitating his accent just to make him laugh, at which you succeed. He smirks. 

Today would be her first opportunity to see Mike in action since his last stage role the previous year. She missed watching him perform live and couldn't wait to see the final product of the film (okay, and an invite to a real Hollywood premiere was a plus, too!). She had no regrets about immediately ordering an Uber to take her from her job in Midtown over to Brooklyn. It was shaping up to be a perfect day - maybe they'd finish filming early enough or Mike would get a break and they could go grab a hot dog or some pizza, y/n's NYC guilty pleasures.

Finally, the Uber pulled up to the security gate at the backlot of Steiner. The security guard saw the Uber sticker in the window of the car and walked around to Y/n's window, where she presented her ID for the security guard to check against a list. For a second, her heart pounded, though she had no reason to believe that Mike hadn't put her on his list of approved visitors or that visitors wouldn't be allowed today. Finally, the guard came back with her ID and a badge, told the Uber driver where to drop you off at, and went to lift the gate. Once inside, it didn't take long to find the correct set, but y/n walked slowly. So many other Hollywood hits had been filmed here, like The Post, The Greatest Showman, Tick, Tick, Boom, and The Wolf of Wall Street. It wasn't hard to be a little in awe of everything around her. Finally, she came upon the stage where Mike was bound to be. So many people rushed around and about that no one really paid her much attention at first, until finally a production assistant stepped in front of her. 

"Hey! Can I help you?" "Oh, I'm y/n," she answered nervously. "I'm Mike's girlfriend, I was hoping to watch him for a little bit today." "Oh! He's still in his trailer, do you want me to take you to him?" "No, actually, could I just hang out and maybe surprise him at lunch? He gets nervous if he knows I'm watching." The PA laughed and found y/n a spot to sit and watch where she could still see, but where Mike most likely wouldn't notice unless he was trying to find her. Finally, the actors and actresses and extras needed for the morning's scene are brought out to get started. It's a long morning consisting mostly of dancing over and over. Mike never once notices his girlfriend among the crowd of directors, producers, sound engineers, and the many, many other crew members hanging out behind the cameras. Y/n's heart twinges a little bit when Mike grabs Paloma, the actress who plays Riff's girl in the film, by the waist, pulling her in while biting his lower lip and looking at her with such adoration and love. Taking a deep breath, y/n reminds herself that he's just a good actor. The cameras are rolling. It's literally his job and doesn't mean anything. The two of them giggle about something and y/n can't tell if it's part of the act or if they really have an inside joke. Y/n shakes her head to throw the unnecessary and jealous thoughts from her mind.