Author's notes: This story began with me wanting to try my hand at Domestic Vauseman, and my Muse took me into an entirely different direction: straight into a complicated relationship. The title is from a song by the same name by Hem. I'll post a new chapter two or three times per week.

It's when you don't know where you stand in someone's life. It's when you're hanging in dead air and knowing you could be thrown off anytime. It's when you're like more than friends but not really, and it's like you're lovers when you're really not. Sometimes, you would want to wish to have never met that person at all, but at the back of your mind, you're thankful you have. That's complicated.

(I read this quotation on two different Tumblr pages, and for the life of me, I can't find who originated it, so forgive me for not posting the author's name.)

"Mommy?"

Even after five years, she still wasn't accustomed to being referred to as a maternal figure and didn't respond right away.

He collided with the bed, placing both hands on her arm and shaking her. "Mommy!"

Piper rolled over and rubbed her eyes. "What time is it?"

"Mo-om," he whined. "I can't tell time yet; you know that."

Piper broke into a smile, pulling his three-foot frame into bed with her. "Where's daddy?"

He snuggled against her, and she missed mornings like this when they were a happy family. Benjamin had always been an early riser, and as soon as he got a big boy bed, he'd rush into their bedroom every morning for cuddle time. He'd crawl into their king-sized bed from the bottom, navigating between his parents in the dark. Piper could always sense when he scuttled his way up, and it made her smile even if she'd been in a deep slumber. Larry would toss an arm over Benjamin, linking hands with his wife, and they'd lay like that until the sun came up. Those days were long gone.

"I was going to ask you the same thing." He rolled onto his father's side of the bed, pulling Piper's hand with him, almost like he remembered the way both parents' arms felt when they were draped over him. "Why were you and daddy fighting last night?"

"We weren't fighting." She brushed his longer-than-usual brown hair off his forehead and tried to erase the morning fog of having just been woken up. "We had a disagreement, and we raised our voices. We shouldn't have done that, Button."

He seemed to chew on that for a couple seconds.

Piper had a sinking feeling that her and Larry's arguments were interfering with her son's sleep. "Did we wake you up?"

"I was already awake." He rolled back towards her and sighed. "I've been having bad dreams."

She pulled him closer, thoughts about the fight with Larry shoved into the recesses of her mind for the time being. "Bad dreams? About what?"

"Lizards."

Piper chuckled, relieved that they weren't dreams of a broken family or his parents incessantly arguing. "Lizards?"

She felt him nod against her upper arm.

Piper rubbed his back. "Big lizards or like the ones we sometimes see in the park?"

"Big ones…not like iguanas, which are really cool, but green, slimy lizards that are as long as my arm." He stretched his arm out to illustrate. "They don't bite in my dream; they just kind of sit there, but I don't like them."

"Tell you what," she tugged his pajama top until he lifted his head. "When I get back from my trip, we're going to catch lizards in the park until you're not afraid anymore."

"Gross!" he yelled through a smile.

Piper tickled him until he squealed with delight.

"Speaking of my trip, I have to get up and pack." She stepped out of bed and stretched, and her son mirrored her movement. "Why don't you go find your dad, and then come back and help me pick out some clothes?"

"Ok." He jumped off the bed, hugged her thigh, and then raced down the hallway, calling for his father.

Piper turned on the shower, eager to rinse away the sweat on her body from the excessive heat in their house in the middle of August. She and Larry had discussed installing air conditioning last summer, but that hadn't amounted to anything, much like many of the conversations they'd had over the past year when Larry was in charge of something.

She stuck her hand under the spray, checking the temperature before stepping inside the glass-enclosed shower. The cool water felt good on her skin, and she'd be grateful for even 10 minutes of uninterrupted time when she could think without her son or husband bothering her.

A knock on the door ruined that moment, and she'd only been in the shower for two minutes. "Mommy?"

She squirted shampoo into her hand. "Yes?"

"Daddy's sleeping on the sofa. He said he doesn't want to get up."

She sighed. "Why don't you wait for me in my bed?"

"Ok…" she could almost hear him pause. "Daddy smells like beer."

She stopped washing her hair mid-stroke. "How do you know what beer smells like?"

"Because he drinks it a lot," he replied matter-of-factly. "He even let me taste it once, but I think it's yucky."

Her eyes shot open, and if she weren't in the shower, she'd have marched downstairs and ripped Larry a new one. Instead, she placed both hands on the cool tile and bowed her head. It had only been in the last couple of months when Larry began drinking every night, but he hadn't seemed to drink to get drunk until recently.

"Beer is for grown-ups, Button. You know that."

"Yeah." His voice grew distant.

"Benjamin?" She yelled over the water. "You're not jumping on the bed, are you?"

He was—she could tell by the intake of his breath. "Maybe."

"I've told you before, no jumping on any bed." She quickly rinsed her hair and ran a bar of soap across her body. So much for a relaxing shower.

"Daddy lets me do it."

She'd had it.

Since the release of her book, the plan had been that Larry would take care of Benjamin while she was away promoting the book, and Piper would bring home the paychecks. It had only been six months since that plan had gone into action, and the more she learned about Larry's behavior while she was away, the more concerned she became about leaving her son with him.

"I'm telling you not to do it," she said, rinsing off and stepping onto the floor mat. Piper wrapped one towel around her head and another around her body before flinging the door open. Benjamin was standing on the bed, pouting.

"I'm not telling you this because I don't want you to have fun—I'm just worried you might fall and break your arm." She took both of his hands. "If you break your arm or some other part of your body, you won't be able to play baseball."

"We only have one game left," he tried.

"Yes, but you're so good!" She kissed his forehead, and then helped him down. "You wouldn't want to disappoint your teammates if you couldn't play."

"Yeah, that's true. Maybe I'll hit a homerun in our last game."

"Wouldn't that be something?" She walked back into the bathroom. "Let mommy dry off and get dressed, and then we'll eat breakfast together."

He scratched his head. "I thought you wanted me to help you pick out clothes for your trip?"

"Fuck," she mumbled. The last thing she wanted was get on a plane with this new information about Larry allowing their son not only to jump on their bed, but also taste beer. "We'll eat, and then you can help me pack."

"Good, cause I'm hungry. I want waffles!"

The closest thing Benjamin would get to waffles were Eggos, but the good news was that was what he'd come to expect.

An hour later, Piper was packed and ready to go, and Larry had finally gathered enough strength to get off the sofa, but he headed straight to bed.

"Why don't you play with your Shopkins down here, and I'll be down in a few minutes?" She handed him a box of the figurines.

He rummaged through the box. "I have to find Cheeky Chocolate."

Piper went upstairs, and entered their bedroom, careful not to slam the door behind her.

"What the fuck, Larry?" She put her hands on her hips. "You gave our son beer?"

"You're speaking very loudly." He pinched the bridge of his nose.

"How much did you drink last night?" She walked over to him and sniffed. "Benjamin said you smelled like beer."

"I had like five beers all day," he complained. "And I might smell like sweat, but I don't smell like beer."

"You are completely unfit to take care of him, and I'm going on a three-day trip." She opened the bedroom window wider. "What the fuck am I supposed to do?"

"I'm fine!" He finally sat up. "I just need to rest for a few minutes, and then I'll be good to go."

"When I get back, we're going to have a serious conversation about parenting." She zipped her suitcase and sighed. "I don't know if you have what it takes to be a father."

"Fuck you!" he spat.

"I'm taking Benjamin to Polly's." She rolled her bag on the hardwood floor towards the door. "She'll keep him while I'm gone."

"Like hell she will." He got out of bed. "I'm fine—a hangover is no cause for such a dramatic gesture. I can take care of our son."

She looked him square in the eye. "No, you can't."

With that, Piper lugged her suitcase downstairs, and then drove away with Benjamin in the back seat.

Although she was able to spend two hours each day at the beach or by the pool at the hotel, Piper was in San Diego for work. Her book sales were climbing, and the speaking engagements were coming in left and right. She even had to turn down a few so that she could be home for more than three days a time, and the way things were going with Larry, she needed to be present for her son far more than that.

According to Polly, Larry had tried to pick up Benjamin at their house, but Pete wouldn't allow it. Larry had threatened to call the police, but Pete took him to get a cup of coffee so they could have a man-to-man talk about parenting. That seemed to cool Larry off, and the final night of Piper's stay in San Diego, he called to apologize. She didn't know if his apology was sincere, but she had to trust Larry if she continued to travel so often. She figured her speaking engagements would slow down as the year moved on, giving her more time at home. Besides, Benjamin would be starting Kindergarten after Labor Day, which would keep him in good hands for six hours every day.

Although she wasn't particularly proud of it, Piper had taken to lying to the person next to her while flying. All too often, she'd mention her profession, and her seat mate (usually an overweight, middle-aged man who could have benefitted from a seatbelt extension) asked a million questions. So, for the past few months, she lied about how she made a living.

"I'm in there." A tall redhead pointed to the window seat and ducked under the overhead compartment as she wiggled her way past Piper.

She angled her knees towards the aisle, allowing the other woman to scoot in.

The tall woman extended her legs, and Piper inconspicuously glanced her way. Sunglasses covered her eyes, and her hair was a bit matted—like she hadn't showered in a couple of days. She actually smelled good—like jelly donuts or some other equally sugar-filled pastry. The woman had on jeans ripped at the knees and a white tank top layered over a black one.

"Good evening, may I get you a pre-flight drink?" the flight attendant asked.

Piper whipped her head around so as not to be caught staring. "White wine, please."

The other woman eyed the flight attendant. "It's free up here, right?"

"Complimentary," Piper corrected, giving the flight attendant a commiserated look.

"Good. I'll have a margarita."

Piper tried to keep her eyebrows from shooting up at such a request, but she knew it was a futile attempt.

"How about tequila and orange with a couple of limes?" the flight attendant asked without missing a beat.

She nodded once. "Thanks."

"It's first class, not a bar," Piper commented, opening the book in her lap.

She leaned back in her seat. "I'm a virgin."

Piper's eyes darted in the other woman's direction.

"A first-class virgin," she chuckled. "Not a sexual one."

"I know what you meant," Piper quickly replied, feeling her cheeks heat up. Despite her messy red hair and disheveled look, there was something stimulating about the woman. She looked like she could be in a commercial set on the beach, selling beer or sunscreen.

"I don't fly often," the woman began, untangling her headphones. "but when I do, I prefer to sleep on the plane and keep the small talk to a minimum, so let's get the perfunctory stuff out of the way."

Piper jutted her chin back—though she had never been as direct about her flight communication style, she felt exactly the same.

"My name is Alex, I'm 33, and I'm a tattoo artist."

Piper's eyes were drawn to the tattoos on Alex's arm and wrist and wished it was she who had shades on so she could stare a little longer.

"I go to San Diego every August for a sort of last hurrah before the end of summer." She adjusted the sunglasses on her nose. "And I might still be a little drunk…and high."

A drunk, possibly high, tattoo artist was her first-class companion. She was accustomed to far less interesting seat mates and thought for a moment about being honest with Alex about who she was and what she did for a living.

"Here's your wine." The flight attendant set a glass on the wide armrest between them. "And your margarita."

Alex clinked her glass against Piper's. "Here's to an almost margarita and a solid three-hour nap."

"I'll toast to your margarita," she sipped the Chardonnay. "But I can't sleep on planes."

"Are you kidding?" Alex asked after a sip. "I'm like a baby in the backseat of a car—any kind of motion, and I'm out like a light."

"I'll just read." She set the glass down and lifted the novel again, which had been open to page 64 during their entire conversation.

Alex stretched her arm, covering the book with her palm and pushing it gently back onto Piper's lap. "Not until you introduce yourself."

She looked down at Alex's fingers splayed wide on the pages before deciding to lie. "My name is Elizabeth, I'm 28, and I'm an accountant."

"What is this? Two truths and a lie?" Alex laughed. "Better yet, two lies and a truth."

She pulled a face, almost offended that she was being called out.

Alex turned her body slightly. "You're over 30 and you're definitely not an accountant."

"I love numbers," she tried.

"I can sniff bullshit a mile away, kid." She smirked. "Wanna try again?"

"Fine, I'm 31," Piper began. She'd always used accountant as her fake profession, because no one ever wanted to talk taxes on a flight (unless it was April). She had to think fast, but was relieved that she had a few extra minutes as the pilot greeted the passengers on board. Piper recalled seeing monitors in the lobby of her hotel welcoming real estate agents for a conference, so she figured that was a safe bet. "I'm in commercial real estate; I was in San Diego for a conference."

Alex eyed her up and down as if deciding whether or not to leave it at that, and extended her hand. "Nice to meet you, Elizabeth."

"You, too." The other woman's hand was firm but soft.

The flight attendant picked up their glasses just before takeoff, and Piper looked out the window as they sped down the runway.

Alex shut the window shade halfway before Piper reached out to stop her. "I can't fly with the shade down—makes me claustrophobic. Would you mind?"

Alex creased her brow, and Piper wished she could see the other woman's eyes. She pushed the window shade back up.

"Thank you." Piper sat back fully in her oversized seat as the plane climbed into the sky.

"You're married," Alex stated, eyes focused straight ahead and not at Piper's hand.

"I am." Piper looked at her sparkling diamond ring. There were times when she traveled when she removed it—not because she wanted people to assume she was single, but because she liked the idea of not belonging to someone when she was away.

"What does your wife do?"

"Wife?" She was taken aback. "I'm married to a man."

"Wow, ok." Alex's eyebrows shot above the rim of her sunglasses.

She angled her body more towards her seat mate. "Why would you think I'm married to a woman?"

"I don't know…" She glanced at Piper and shrugged. "You give off a certain vibe."

"A gay vibe?" Piper asked with an anxious laugh stuck in her throat. "But I'm so proper. I don't think I give off a gay vibe at all."

That earned her a light chuckle. "Forget about it—I…"

"I don't want to forget about it. What did I do to make you think I was gay?" she interrupted.

Alex lifted her sunglasses to the top of her head and took her sweet time staring at Piper from stem to stern. Her eyes were bright green like a cat, and her dark eyeliner and mascara further emphasized their color and almond shape. Piper swallowed hard and crossed her legs, unconsciously uncomfortable with Alex's scrutinizing gaze.

They locked eyes for a moment, Alex blinking once, and she smirked, tugging her sunglasses back into place. "Nothing."

Piper sat there, stuck with a non-response. She wasn't gay—or at least hadn't acted on any homosexual feelings since right after college, but she didn't owe Alex that much.

"I was in a relationship with a woman," she spouted, unable to keep her thoughts to herself. "But that was a long time ago."

Alex glanced at her again, smile dripping off her lips like honey.

"I'm straight," she continued as if needing to punctuate her previous statement.

Alex removed her sunglasses, and once again, Piper was captivated by her eyes. "It's a loss for our team."

For reasons she chose not to examine too carefully, Piper was intrigued that Alex was gay. She figured she had no trouble coaxing women into her web. "Do you have a girlfriend?" she blurted out.

"Not at the time, no." Alex reached into her bag and pulled out a pair of secretary glasses and a book. "Are you offering?"

Piper averted her eyes. "I told you, I'm married."

"Right." She put her glasses on and flipped a book over in her hands. "Huh."

"What?" Piper regarded her again, and would have to remind herself not to stare into her eyes now that they were no longer hidden by tinted lenses.

"We're reading the same book," Alex noted.

"Huh. I don't think I've ever sat next to someone who was reading the same book as me." She glanced up at Alex. "I saw Joshua Foer at a TED Talk a couple of years ago and finally got around to reading Moonwalking with Einstein."

"A friend recommended it." Alex leaned over. "What page are you on?"

"Sixty-four," she replied. "Have you gotten to the part about if you want to live a memorable life, you have to be the kind of person who remembers to remember?"

"Yeah, and I suck at remembering."

"Me, too."

"What's next on your 'must read' list?" A small part of her wanted Alex to say she'd read her book next.

She reached into her bag and pulled out another novel. "Rope Burns: Stories from the Corner."

"Never heard of it." Piper took the book from her and read the back cover.

"I started boxing recently, so…"

"Boxing? Like kickboxing?" She handed her the book, and their fingers touched. A thrill surged through her body.

"I do some kickboxing, but I'm more into the traditional stuff."

"Like in a ring with a partner?"

"Yeah. Have you ever tried it?" Alex tucked the book into the seat back pocket.

"No."

"It helps with arm definition." Alex extended her right arm and rubbed the back of it, and Piper was drawn to her triceps. "The cardio kicks my ass, but that's always been my weak point."

Piper swallowed hard. "I'm a runner, and I practice yoga when I can."

"You have a yoga body." She could feel Alex's stare, but she kept her eyes lowered. "If you ever want a different kind of workout, text me." The next thing she knew, Alex was writing her phone number on page 64 of the book in her lap.

Piper was astonished that she wrote in her book. "What if I checked this book out from the library?"

"Then I might have multiple phone calls from intellectual pervs," she replied with a cocked eyebrow.

Piper grinned. "Well, I bought it, so no calls from perverts."

The women chatted for the rest of the flight, and Piper was wildly intrigued by her seat mate. She was thankful that Alex hadn't asked her anything about real estate, and she kept her own questions about Alex's profession to a minimum. It had been years since she'd had a lengthy conversation with anyone that didn't revolve around married life, raising kids or writing.

The plane pulled into the gate, the women unbuckled their seatbelts and stood, Alex stretching and Piper staring at her lean figure.

"So much for taking a nap on the flight," Piper said.

"That's probably the first time I haven't slept on a plane." She reached into the overhead compartment for her suitcase. "But it was worth it."

"It was." Piper smiled, sad that their time together was over. "Do you have a connecting flight?"

"No, I live in Seattle." Alex motioned for Piper to walk ahead of her as they exited the plane. "You?"

"I'm in Green Lake." She pulled her suitcase onto the jetway.

"Columbia City," she replied. "I'm serious about the boxing thing—if you're interested, you have my number."

"I might take you up on that."

Alex extended her hand. "Nice meeting you, Elizabeth."

She almost corrected her, but remembered she'd used a fake name when they met. "You, too, Alex." Piper wondered if Alex was really her name.

With that, the women parted, and Piper had to snap back to reality. She didn't know what to expect when she got home—a contrite Larry and a sleepy Benjamin or a drunk husband and an undisciplined son.

As she made her way on I-5 and approached the Swift Avenue exit, she wondered what it would be like to say fuck everything, and follow Alex home. She played the scenario out in her head—she'd text Alex, tell her traffic sucked, and ask her if she wanted to grab a drink or something until traffic died down. Alex would invite her over, make them a martini or pop open two longnecks, and they'd pick up the conversation where they'd left off until they consumed just enough alcohol to touch. Alex would brush her hair off her shoulder, letting her hand linger too long, and Piper would cover her wrist with her hand. It wouldn't take long before their mouths were fused together and Alex's fingers found their way inside her pants.

The chirp of her mobile phone startled her enough to make her jump in her seat. She hit the phone button on the steering wheel, hoping that Alex was on the other end but knowing there was no chance of that happening since she hadn't given Alex her number.

"Hello?"

"Hi, mommy!"

Piper smiled at hearing her son's voice and felt a surge of guilt for where her mind had been seconds earlier. "Hi, Button."

"We have a surprise for you!" he announced.

"You do?" She loved her son deeply and genuinely missed him when she was away. "I'm almost home, and I can't wait to see it."

"Ok. Hurry! Daddy wants to talk to you."

Piper's guilt surfaced again—she couldn't recall the last time she truly enjoyed sex with Larry. The last time they did it was a late, drunken night, and she remembered it being quick and rough—almost a means to an end for him. When they were finished, she took her pillow and a blanket, and slept on the floor of Benjamin's room.

"Hi," Larry greeted on the line.

"Hey."

"I made shrimp tacos. That's your surprise."

"Daddy," Piper heard her son complain. "You weren't supposed to tell her!"

She loved shrimp tacos, and Larry knew that. Piper was touched at the gesture.

"I even splurged and bought cilantro," he stated. "And those homemade tortillas from Central Market."

"Cilantro is like 80 cents a bunch. I'd hardly call that splurging." She smiled, but her lips didn't tug up as high as they used to when Larry made shrimp tacos.

She could hear him in the kitchen, perhaps getting plates out of the cupboard. "These were $1.10, and they're organic, so I'd say that's definitely a splurge."

He could be very sweet and funny.

"I'm passing through downtown now, so I should be home in 15 minutes."

"We'll be waiting."

With that, she hung up and took a deep breath. She'd try to erase Alex from her mind and focus on a family who loved and needed her.

But she wasn't hungry.