A/N: The first in a series of stories. May or may not follow original plot/story/timeline.

A friend challenged me to use several random words, names or phrases - these include Dolly Parton, UCLA, basil…. Hopefully, she will be pleased with their usage.

Disclaimer: I don't own them.

I glance around at the stacks of boxes that clutter what will be the family room. Our lives, neatly packed away into undescript brown containers. At some point, I'll have to begin unpacking - sorting, folding and putting away these things. But not right now. I'm content to sit, sprawled out on the couch watching some sappy movie eating radishes dipped in ketchup.

I hear keys jostling just outside the front door, knowing that Gil has returned. He manages to make his way through the door without droppingany packages. I manage to pull myself off of the couch and help him with the smaller bags of groceries.

"Gil, you think that we should see if the boys could come and help us get the furniture moved and maybe some painting done? And I'm sure that Catherine would love to come visit - maybe we could talk her into helping us finish the nursery?"

I'm rummaging through a grocery bag looking for something to curb a craving that radishes couldn't. The corners of his lips turn up in a sly grin before he hands me a jar of garlic stuffed olives.

"Sara, we would have had to start on the nursery, if you want Cath to help finish it…."

I shake my head,more concerned with trying to open the lid on my grocery prize. After several minutes of trying, I place the jar into his outstretched hand. A quick second later, I'm enjoying the salty treat.

"I can call them if you want. See if they could maybe come for the weekend. I'm sure that I can entice the boys with tickets on the 50 yard line." he says, reaching into his pocket for his phone.

I walk into the kitchen looking for a fork to delve deeper into the olive jar, but can still hear the conversation. From this end of it, it seems like confirmation of house guests for the weekend.

"Nick and Greg are both coming this weekend. The mention of football tickets swayed them away from some concert coming to Mandalay Bay. Catherine said she would be coming the next weekend - Lindsay is coming in from UCLA for fall break. I think that we can get most of the work done with the boys here. We'll leave the decorating for the women…. I don't think that Nick would want to spend his days looking at lace, plaids and polka dots in various shades of pink."

I laugh at the thought of Nick perusing aisle after aisle of nursery décor before joking "Nick might not want to, but I have a sneaking suspicion that Greg wouldn't mind."

Gil just shakes his head, knowing that it is quite possible. The rest of the day is spent writing up to do lists, relaxing on the couch and watching Hank run around the back yard. After watching the 11 o'clock news, we crawl into bed content to lay wrapped up in each other talking about whatever crosses our minds.

"Gil, I'm glad we moved here - you know, away from Vegas - the lights, the raucousness… the past. It's like we've started over here and I guess in some ways we have. "

He nods in agreement, pulling me a little closer to him.

"Good Night, honey. I love you." I try my best to stifle a yawn, but am unsuccessful.

"Night Sara. I love you. And I love you, ladybug." he says quietly into the darkness, as his hand gently rubs across the swell of my stomach.

I snuggle closer against him as my eyelids begin to droop. His deep, even breathing while his fingers idly rub my arms, is an invitation to drift off into a peaceful sleep. I'm not sure what woke me first; the empty, cold spot in the bed or the sweet aroma of something baking. Either way, I was awake and desperately needing the bathroom. I shuffle towards the bathroom, taking a quick glance in the mirror before using the toilet. I look like I've swallowed a basketball - I feel like I've swallowed a basketball. I debate on changing out of pajamas before breakfast, but decide that the sweet, sticky pastries don't care if I have on pajamas or not - and I know Gil could care less. Once I make it into the kitchen, I am pleased to find a stack of pancakes, my favorite veggie bacon and lots of fresh fruit. Gil looks up from stirring a saucepan on the stove and my smile sends my approval.

"Gil, you didn't have to make such a big breakfast. I could've eaten oatmeal."

I'm looking for the maple syrup before I sit down, not on the table, not in the pantry - I can't seem to find it anywhere.

"Griss, do you know where the syrup is?"

A reluctant smile begins to turn up the corners of his mouth, "About the syrup - we don't seem to have any. And I didn't realize it until I had already started making pancakes. So, I'm making homemade berry compote for the pancakes. There were all sorts of them in the fridge; raspberries, blackberries, blueberries - I didn't use the cranberries though"

I glance over his shoulder, into the saucepan - I'm thinking this is going to be better than any maple syrup. Taking a seat at the table, I attempt to wait patiently for the chef to finish his creation. Several long minutes later, my pancakes are covered in warm berry bliss. The first bite is pure perfection - warm, fluffy buttermilk pancakes topped with the best sauce I have ever eaten. I find myself scraping the plate with the fork, long after the rest of the food is gone. Gil's soft chuckle brings me out of my berry syrup induced fog.

"Sara, I can make more - anytime you want."

My eyes dart up to meet his, "Anytime? Don't say it if you don't mean it!" I tease.

We both laugh as he clears the breakfast dishes into the dishwasher. We linger in the kitchen, working a crossword puzzle in tandem. 43 Across - Jolene Singer: DOLLY PARTON, 37 Down - Garden Herb: BASIL. Leaning in, he places a kiss to my forehead before asking,

"What would you like to do today? Or maybe I should say, what do you want to supervise me doing today?"

Arching my brows in playful displeasure, "WE need to see about getting some of these boxes unpacked- I'd hate to think that Nick and Greg would have to end up doing this when they visit. And I'm not sure how much longer we've got before Miss Charlotte arrives" I reply, patting my stomach.

So, that's how we spend the day - unpacking boxes, arranging and rearranging what furniture has already been delivered, and making lists of things to do around the house. We take our time, sorting though books - Gil pauses to read a favorite sonnet as I page through a photo album remembering our times in Costa Rica, California and Las Vegas. Lunch is spent glancing at a different album, one that contains mostly childhood photos of Gil, with a handful of mine scattered throughout. We manage to sort through all of the boxes stacked in the family room before dinner, leaving us feeling quite accomplished, if a bit exhausted. The rest of the evening is quite uneventful; dinner is delivered from a local vegetarian tapas restaurant, we drew a warm bubble bath and soak together before curling up in bed.