A/N: ICanStopAnytime and I can get one more story out of that unfinished novel after this.

Eric Does Good

Eric disappeared from the dining room table, returned, and slapped a folded-up print out on the table.

Tami leaned forward. "What's this?" It looked like an airline confirmation he'd printed from the internet.

"We didn't get to do anything special for our twentieth anniversary because we were moving. You've always complained that we've never gone on vacation anywhere outside of Texas. Well. Paris. Last week of June. You and me."

"You're not serious. You are not serious."

He sat down. "I've called Shelley. She'll drive up and watch Gracie for the whole week. She's doing that pimping thing now anyway."

"It's not pimping! It's an internet dating website. And she's the…coordinator person who…." Tami had no idea what her sister did, really. She just knew she did it from home and it had something to do with managing a dating website and that, because of this, Shelley was never going to hear the end of it from Eric.

"We have wifi," Eric said. "She can do that here. I was going to surprise you with these" - - he gestured to the e-tickets - - "over dinner out this weekend, but you've been in such a foul mood since coming home from work. Figured I should go ahead."

"I am not in a foul mood! Okay, maybe a little….it was just…I can't tell you! These parents! When they're precious little babies aren't accepted! Or when they don't earn all their credits! I thought working at a college, I'd never have to deal with parents again! But you wouldn't believe - "

"- This probably isn't the right time for me to point out how you drove all the way to Julie's college to get her assignments when she wasn't doing it herself."

Tami leveled her eyes at him. "Your assumption is correct. But you stuck your foot in your mouth anyway, didn't you?"

"Well I was hungry," he said, and resumed eathing his dinner.

She looked down at the print-out again. She unfolded and read it. And reread it. "Paris? You're taking me to Paris? Coach We-Can't-Even-Afford-A-Beach-Trip Taylor? Coach I've-got-to-Stay-Home-and-Draw-Play-Diagrams-all-Summer Taylor? That guy is taking me to Paris?"

"That guy has made it possible for us to save enough money to put two girls through college and go to Paris." When Tami began working full-time, Eric had insisted that they continue to practice living on one income, in case one of them lost a job. So most of the second income was socked away.

"Paris?" she asked. "A week? You got a…nice…hotel?"

"Five star."

"You…you're Eric Taylor, right? You are my husband? You aren't going to…unzip your skin and someone else is going to come out?"

"A simple thank you would be nice."

She couldn't say thank you. She was still too shocked. "Paris?" was all she said.

"It's what you wanted, right? For our 20th? You told me fifteen years ago."

She had, sort of, although she'd said Venice, and fifteen years had seemed like eons away at the time, and she'd been half joking. She hadn't really expected it ever to happen. "Promise you'll take me to Venice four our 20th," she'd said. "Promise!" It was just something to say. She didn't think then they'd ever have have the money to do it. Besides, she'd thought at the time, they'd be an old married couple by then. They'd be comfortably complacent with each other. She didn't realize then that the hormones would hit her hard at forty, that her budding career would bolster her self-confidence, or that his own personal success and proven fidelity would make him seem sexier than ever to her. She never guessed that the sex they'd be having their twentieth year of marriage would outstrip the sex they'd had their fifth. Not then.

"You did say Paris, right?" he repeated.

"Uh..yeah," she lied. Close enough.

"I did good?"

"You did more than good, sugar." She held the ticket print out in the air and danced over to him before throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him appreciatively.

/-*-/

Tami glanced at the boarding pass and then looked up at Eric's wild hair, which had become tousled in the security line. "You didn't get us seats together?" she asked.

"They're in the same row," he groused. "It's just that the middle seat was taken. I'm sure whoever is sitting there will be willing to switch so we can sit next to each other."

"He better be," she said.

Eric's lips settled into a grim line. "A thank you would be nice."

"He better be," she repeated as he carried their overhead luggage down the aisle.

Only it wasn't a he. It was an extremely buxom, lean, blonde woman. Intellectually, she knew it wasn't Eric's fault that the woman was so attractive, but some primal part of her brain made her glare at him as though he'd picked her out when he bought the tickets.

"What?" he mouthed, and then said to the woman, "Excuse me, ma'am, my wife and I have the aisle and the window. Would you mind switching with one of us so we could sit together?"

"Not at all," the woman said, unbuckling.

"Which seat would you prefer? The aisle or the window?" Eric asked her.

"Well aren't you just the southern gentleman," the woman said with a flirtatious smile. "Where are you from?"

"Texas, ma'am. Originally."

"Ma'am," she repeated with an even bigger smile as she stepped out to let them in. "Well I'd like the aisle, thank you."

When Eric didn't make a move into the window seat, Tami jerked her head. "Get in," she commanded.

"But don't you want the window seat?" he asked. "You always want the – "

"Get in," Tami hissed. Like hell she was letting him sit directly next to Ms. Flirtatious Big Tits.

He looked a little startled by her tone, but he obeyed. When they were both seated, the stranger in the aisle seat and Tami in the middle, Tami took immediate possession of her husband's hand and drew it into her lap. She turned their hands out, so their wedding rings were showing.

"You two going on an anniversary vacation?" Ms. Big Tits asked.

Eric smiled and opened his mouth to answer, but Tami interrupted him. "Yes. We're celebrating our twenty-first."

"Twenty-first?" The woman looked at Eric, not at Tami, when she said, "You don't look nearly old enough to have been married twenty-one years already!"

"We married young," he said. "When we were still in college."

"We were both still in college," Tami emphasized. "We were juniors."

"Well congratulations," the woman said.

Eric must have finally figured out why Tami seemed so irritated, because he took out the iPad Buddy Garrity had – quite out of the blue - given him for Christmas – along with a note about how the Panthers could use a new coach – and started watching some game film Shelley had helped him to put on it before they'd left. Shelley had made fun of his technological incompetence the entire time she showed him how to do it. Earphones on, iPad in front of himself, he held Tami's hand and refrained from looking in the general direction of their seat mate. Tami opened the book she'd brought and started reading.

When it was time for take-off, Eric had to shut down his electronic device, which apparently Miss Big Tits took as an invitation to further conversation. She leaned forward in her seat to look past Tami. "We didn't introduce ourselves. I'm Sandra."

"Eric Taylor," Eric said, extending his hand over Tami's and shaking the woman's. Did he really have to touch her? He couldn't just give his name without taking her hand? "This is my wife Tami." Yeah, Miss Big Tits already knows you're married, hon. And yet it's not deterring her. Tami smiled thinly at the woman as Eric settled back into his seat.

"Are you Coach Eric Taylor?" Sandra asked with an exaggerated tone of admiration. Now how in the hell did she know he was a coach? He wasn't wearing his state ring or his cap or his jacket or anything like that.

He was apparently as confused as Tami. Confused, but also, perhaps, a little flattered. "Uh…I'm a high school football coach, yeah. How did you know that?"

"I saw you on the cover of that magazine a few years ago. My ex was really into football. He was a high school football coach too. It's amazing what you did with that team. The Cheetahs?"

Eric snorted. "Lions," he corrected her.

Tami smiled with false sweetness. "Yes, my husband is an excellent coach and molder of men." She turned her flashed teeth on him. "Isn't that right, sugar?"

"Uh…" He turned and looked out the window. After take-off, he drew out his iPad again. He concentrated fiercely.

This long flight to France was supposed to be a chance for them to talk and enjoy each other's conversation, but Tami didn't particularly want to do that now next to their buxom seat mate. Eric remained bent over his iPad a good part of the flight, until the battery finally died, and then he pulled out a hardcover biography and read silently. Tami finished her book and got half way through a second before she began drifting off to sleep.

/-*-/

"Why the sullen face, hon?" Tami asked as they stepped into their hotel room and Eric set down the suitcase on the bed. "Because I embarrassed you by slapping Sandra's hand off you knee?"

Toward the end of the flight, Miss Big Tits had stretched her arm right across Tami to pat Eric's knee and laugh when he said something that wasn't even particularly funny. Then Sandra had let her hand just linger there. By that point, Tami had simply had enough. The woman's lack of respect – continuously flirting with her husband right in front of her - annoyed her. There was no catfight, nothing like it, but Eric's face had flushed red when Tami took the magazine she'd been reading and simply smacked the woman's hand lightly before smiling sweetly at her and saying, "Honey, you don't seem aware of this, but that man doesn't belong to you." After that, preparations for landing were announced, and there was no further communication between Eric and the woman.

"I'm not at all the jealous or possessive type," Tami insisted now, "but I think you can admit she was a little overboard."

"Tami, babe, you are the queen of double standards. If I had marked my territory like that, you'd of called me an idiot." He looked around the room. "Much like when I tackled Mo over that table."

"This was nothing like that. I gave her a little tap on the hand. Nothing was broken or spilled. There was no public spectacle. And Mo was not fondling my knee."

"She wasn't fondling my knee. She was patting it. And Mo kissed you. He hugged you."

"On the cheek. Because we're old friends."

"Old lovers."

"Good Lord, Eric you have got to be kidding me."

Eric opened the suitcase.

"That's why you look so surly? Because of something that happened years ago?"

"No," he said, looking up and nodding at the room. "No. Because it's smaller than I expected. I really wanted the best for you. I wanted to give you the best for our anniversary. But the flight was awful and now this…it's supposed to be a four-star hotel. But it's small. And it's kind of…dingy. I just…" He sighed warily. "I really did want to give you the best."

She came and put her arms around his neck. She let her fingers stray into his thick hair. "Babe, this is Europe. Things aren't going to be American-sized. I think it's very nice. It's not at all dingy."

"Well, from the outside, it looked – "

"We're in France! This is not a country that is less than three hundred years old, sugar. I like it. It has history. And it's charming, and it's comfortable, and it's right in the heart of Paris! You did good."

"I did?" he asked hopefully.

Rather than answer, she kissed him deeply, which was answer enough. "And you made sure we had a balcony. Come on, I want to look."

They surveyed the city as she leaned back in his arms. The sun was still high in the sky as their flight had arrived a little after two in the afternoon Paris time. The city stretched out magnificently before them.

After a time of just looking, he whispered, "You know, with Gracie and all…it's very rare we get to make love in the afternoon."

She chuckled. "Is that a subtle request?"

He kissed her cheek. "Come on, babe. A little afternoon delight. We don't get that at home. Afternoon delight…in Paris no less."

She turned in his arms. Buried her fingers in his hair. "All right, hon, but since this is my anniversary week, I get what I want."

"You always get what you want."

She laughed as they went back into the room, not because what he said wasn't true, but because it was. "Because I'm the woman," she insisted. She placed a hand on the small of his back and urged him to the bed. "And you're a gentleman."

He laughed. "I don't know about that."

"You are. But if you want something special, you know, you only have to ask. It's your anniversary too."

They were at the bed now and he faced her, grinning giddily. "Yeah?"

"Of course."

He leaned forward and whispered something in her ear. She nodded. "I think that can be arranged."

/-*-/

"Sex is better in Paris," Tami said, snuggled against her husband's chest afterward.

"Well it's certainly more intimate. I thought this was supposed to be a Queen-size bed like we have at home. It feels more like a double."

She raised herself up on her elbow and narrowed her eyes at him. "One more complaint out of you and I'm spending the rest of this vacation by myself." He grimaced. "You want to give me the best?" she asked. "Enjoy yourself with me in Paris. Stop whining!"

"It wasn't a complaint. It was just an observation. And trust me. I just enjoyed myself very, very, very much." He grinned and kissed her. "In fact…we could stay here all night. Order room service."

She threw the blanket off herself. "Absolutely not. You're taking me to dinner at a fancy French restaurant." She slid out of bed and began to dress.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and answered, "Yes, ma'am."

/-*-/

Tami attempted to dust off her college French and order in the language, but the waiter insisted on speaking to her in English. When he was gone, she whispered, "I thought they pretended not to speak English. But that guy just seemed offended I even tried to speak to him in his language. How am I going to practice my French if no one will - "

"- Babe, I believe someone said this was supposed to be a complaint-free vacation." Eric put a finger on his chin and tapped it. "Now who was that?"

She rolled her eyes and reached for her wine. "Well this is good wine." She took a sip and rolled it on her tongue.

When the food came, Eric stared at his plate and blinked. Then he frowned.

"What's wrong now, sugar?" she asked when the waiter was gone.

"Well…it's just…I'm a grown man." He picked up his fork and poked at the small portions.

"I told you, Eric. Things aren't going to be American-sized in France."

"Unfortunately, I'm an American-sized man."

She shook her head. "Well," she said, her voice thick with sarcasm, "we'll swing by McDonald's and get you a Big Mac on the way back to the hotel."

"What I really want is some barbecue ribs."

Tami sighed. "Maybe you'll lose a little of that beer gut on this vacation."

He gave her a mock, miffed expression. "I'm very svelte." He swept a hand up and down as if to outline his torso. "Look at this figure. You're lucky to be married to this."

She nearly spit out her wine when she laughed. She swallowed and coughed and said, "I think you're the lucky one. To be married to a woman with the ability to put up with your moods."

"I am a man of many moods." He lay down his fork and reached for his glass. "I'm richly complex that way."

"More like two," she said. "Irritable and less irritable."

"Sometimes I'm randy," he said. "And sometimes I'm more randy. So I've got at least four."

She covered her mouth and chuckled beneath her hand.

"I can also be very romantic."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yep." He snapped his fingers, and, in response, a trio with violinist came to their table and serenaded Tami with a French love song.

"Very sweet," she said when they were gone. "I honestly wasn't expecting that." She reached out and took his hand. "This is all such a beautiful surprised." She squeezed. "I love the food. I love the moonlight." They were sitting outside at the tables that lined the street. "You enjoying my company?"

He smiled. "I always enjoy your company, babe." He slid his hand away and raised his glass. "Happy early anniversary." Their glasses clinked and echoed in the Paris night.

"You know what, babe?" His hand covered hers on the table.

"What?"

"I love you more than I ever did when we were twenty. I love you more every year. We've gotten through twenty-one years together, some of 'em pretty tough. And whatever the next few bring... we'll get through those too..."

Tami smiled. "You're pretty good with the anniversary speeches, hon. Must be all that practice with locker-room pep talks."

"Must be. Or it could just be that I really mean it."

Their hands slid apart as the waiter returned to offer them dessert menus. The moonlight bathed the table. They only had a week in Paris, Tami thought, but they had a lifetime of love still ahead of them.

/ AND THAT THERE'S THE END /