Mother's Day, Husband's Play

Matthew "Looker" Andrew Morgan

I held the heavy box tightly in my hands with my suitcase leaning on my pant leg, ringing the doorbell. My heart was light. After a few weeks of a difficult mission with a friend of mine, I was exhausted and too excited to sleep. Of course, I know the days. It's that time of the year. And this was going to be the third time I would participate in this celebration.

Finally, the door swung open, and I stared down at a growing ten-year old with brown hair melded with blonde. Her face lit up. "Daddy!" I lifted my shoulders as she shot toward me, hugging me tightly around the waist. She buried her face in my green polo. "I missed you." Cammie said through muffled cotton.

I laughed as she struggled in helping to heave my suitcase into our Arlington apartment up the base of stairs, I following after. "I missed you too. How was school on Friday?"

She flicked on the television in the kitchen. "We had a math test, and it was easy! It was a good team Ratface didn't teach algebra yet."

"A lucky fourth grader like you learns more advanced stuff than the others." I paused, processing what she'd said earlier. "Ratface?"

"The teacher's face looks like a rat. She has horrible perfume." Cammie said nonchalantly as if she was referring to the weather. "I'm going to get the flowers." And then she sped away.

I backtracked to the front of the door and thanked my lucky stars that the box was there. The last thing I wanted to get a chewing out from my daughter. Yeah, even a highly trained professional can be frowned upon a ten-year old. I scooped the bag and ran up the stairs. I examined the rooms: in the kitchen the TV was blaring, Cammie's and the bathroom doors were open. The only closed door was the room I was risking entering. Maybe she was still asleep.

Knock, knock. I tapped the door lightly, but to no avail, I didn't receive an answer. "Hello?" I asked, and was met with silence. The doorknob turned in my palm, and I sneaked in, planting my footsteps where I knew the floorboard didn't creak. I scanned my surroundings.

The bed was neatly made, and the laundry was folded on a basket. I strolled purposely to the drawer and smartly placed the box on top. I took out the contents; a vanilla cake. Well, a guy has to be prepared for these types of things. I was sort of proud of the frosted Happy Birthday and Mother's Day, Rachel. I whipped out a match and struck it, and lit the single candle. I was very jumpy. A lot of things could go wrong. Where was she?

I found her sleeping on the most unexpected place. Her head and arms were slumped on the desk; her hair was a tangled mess. A small puddle of drool was dangerously near a stack of papers she was working with. I knew better than to wake her up; Rachel's a light sleeper. But I caved in.

"Rachel?" I whispered when I drew closer, placing the candle in the middle of the cake. I poked her lightly. I got nothing. I tapped her again, "If you're awake-"

The rest happened fast. Despite all my training, my stomach took a nosedive as I felt someone grabbed my arm and flipped me on the bed, knocking the breath out of me. "Ouch." I managed to croak even with the lack of oxygen. Maybe I broke something?

I snapped my eyes shut for a few moments, until I heard someone say, "M-matthew!" I opened them, coming face-to-face with Rachel Morgan. She gasped and reeled back, turning the shade of the crimson blanket covers as she checked her disheveled state. "It was an accident…I'm sleepy." She said in a small voice, grabbing a nearby comb and hastily brushing it back to its flawless straight edge.

"You definitely needed your beauty sleep." I chuckled, sitting up on the bed. I glanced at the door, waiting for, as if, on cue, Cammie would stealthily enter the room. But she didn't come. Yet. "I came fresh from a mission, with your sister. But were you sleeping well?"

Rachel sent a lopsided smile my way. I'm just going to say: Rachel has never had a hangover. Back to the point. "A bit." And then she blinked. "I forgot—"

I playfully pulled her onto the bed, right beside me, catching her off guard. "I remembered. I don't forget things, Rach." I pointed at the glowing cake as I wrapped my arms around her stomach. Close proximity? Oh, yes. Happy feelings? Define euphoria.

"Thank you." Rachel smiled, not a smirk or a grin, and I felt my insides melting. "You never cease to surprise me…" she broke off, curling up with her arms wrapped around her knees. She stared at the window, looking at the sunny day. "I think we could go out in the park when we share the cake with—"

"Hello, people!" Cammie strolled in with a bouquet of fifteen roses, a symbol of gratitude. "I see that we can play in the park." She said with a grin, handing over the large gift to her mother. "Thanks, kiddo."

"I have plans after we got to the park. We can go to a simple restaurant, and set up a meeting with the others." By others I meant the colleagues who'd scattered into agencies like the Interpol, the CIA, or the MI6. "Except I need something to eat first." I added when my stomach growled.

Rachel set the rose bouquet near the corner of the bed and looked into my eyes. "Ladies first." She declared, hopping off to retrieve a triplet of plates and forks. She appeared swiftly, and we sliced the cake into bits, tucking into it cheerfully. "We have all the time in the world."

Precisely a thousand words. Let's just say this was made by Pianist707, and Ally Carter owns the characters.

Happy Mother's Day, and Happy Birthday to those few!