AN: Thank you, Goldenbassets! I'm so glad you're enjoying this story.

A huge thank you especially to my Cassababe, who keeps me going.

Without further adieu, chapter four.

x April Dawn

XOXO

The windshield was covered with large particles of pristine white by the time they rolled into the Forman's driveway, but the unmistakable beam from the porch light still managed to shine through the precipitation. He smiled, certain that the Formans weren't expecting anyone, and yet Mrs. Forman had left the light on, as if she had just known he was coming.

The warm glow casting a glimmer over the basketball hoop was like greeting an old friend, an especially welcome sight after the turmoil of the nearly closed highway. Individuals and families had been determined to get to their respective destinations before the blizzard prevented their journeys, and the traffic had shown for it. The drive that normally took six hours had lasted for closer to ten.

Sleeping on and off, his cousin hadn't been as great of company as he had hoped. He'd have to remember to refuse her plea for a road trip next time. Angie should've warned him that Ade would be easily put to sleep by the lull of the road, despite the numerous times he had blasted the radio at the loudest volume to keep the sleepy head's eyes open. He had only just gotten her awake again half an hour ago.

"Home sweet home," Hyde announced as he turned off the Camino's engine and cracked his knuckles against the steering wheel.

"Finally! Could you possibly drive any slower?" Ade asked, stretching out presumably sore limbs.

"Hey, we were minutes away from getting stranded in what they're saying could be one of Chicago's worst blizzards. It was either drive like a granny or wind up in the mahogany coffins Auntie had to order for our corpses," he replied.

"Mahogany? I don't think so. No way in hell am I gonna spend the rest of eternity in mahogany."

"What's wrong with mahogany?" Hyde asked.

She looked at him in disbelief. "It's pretentious."

"Agreed. I just wanted to see your face."

She rolled her eyes and reached over to the takeout box to grab a french fry. The short trip to Mickey D's had only been a few hours ago, but it felt much longer.

"Grandpa makes way better fries," Ade said.

"Grandpa makes way better everything," Hyde admitted.

Born in Luxembourg in 1905 as the grandson of Cameroonian slaves, Ulysse Barnett had been perfecting his cooking technique for decades. He worked as a short-order cook in Paris after serving on the frontlines in the first World War, before managing to secure passage to America. Having read about Missouri once in a book - Hyde was fairly certain it was Mark Twain's Tom Sawyer, but his grandfather couldn't remember - he ended up becoming a chef in St. Louis, where he saw a woman singing in a nightclub.

It took about three years before aspiring starlet Minnie Carmichael even noticed him, but he never missed a single one of her performances after that first time, Ulysse had told his grandson, as a much older Minnie smiled and took her husband's hand.

"You have way more patience than me," Hyde responded, awed that two people who had been married for so long could still be as in love as if they first started dating.

It almost made him want what his grandparents had. Almost.

But not everyone stayed as happy as Ulysse and Minnie Barnett, or the Formans. With his background, he was much more likely to get divorced before they even made it through the first decade. Hell, that was the reason he stayed with Sam in the first place, determined to have a healthy marriage unlike his folks. And look how that turned out.

Marriage was overrated and definitely not for him, but it was nice to know that some people could weather the storms and come out stronger.

"When you meet the one, son, you just know," Ulysse said in his thick accent. His time in the US may have given him a good grasp on the English language, but the lyrical sound of the French still rolled off his tongue and caused Minnie's smile to widen every time she heard it.

"He lost his one," Angie and Ade chirped simultaneously as they entered the room, which ended the conversation and put Hyde in a bad mood for the rest of the night.

He hoped meeting Jules would get the two off his back about Jackie, but it just planted them further in their belief that there was only one girl for him and in their neverending quest to get him to agree - a quest that left him irritable more than anything else.

"I can't believe you slept most of the way," Hyde said.

"Not my fault the Camino drives so smooth," Ade defended.

"That's true. My baby always does good."

"Men and their cars. You have got to stop calling it your baby."

"You call your Mustang your 'wild thing.'"

"Mustangs are wild things! And it's the Troggs, Hyde. God.

"Tell me this. If you brought your chick to a car show, who would you choose: the car you call your baby, or your chick?"

Hyde looked at her suspiciously. "Dunno," he shrugged, although he actually did and from experience, too. "Probably the car."

Ade gave him a look. "Your chick. You'd choose your chick."

"How do you know?"

"Because. I know you."

He sighed. "You do know me. A little too well. It's disconcerting."

The corners of her mouth turned into a triumphant grin as she put another fry in her mouth.

And then cringed at the now ice-cold taste.

The screen door clattered open, the sound of hurrying footsteps on the hard driveway soon following.

The two looked to see the source of the noise.

"Steven! You're home! I thought you weren't supposed to arrive until Saturday!" Kitty said, practically ripping the car door off its hinges as she threw herself at him.

He laughed. "Hey, Mrs. Forman." He paused. "Mom."

Kitty smiled, looking up at him with tears in her eyes. He started calling her the term after the accident, but hadn't quite adjusted to it yet. Mrs. Forman was the name he had used for years; it was comfortable. It was familiar.

Ma belonged to someone else entirely, someone who was a real piece of shit. He hadn't seen his ma since she left town six years ago, and that was the way he liked it.

Mom he could get used to, eventually. But Ma? Ma was the past and that was where it would stay.

"You must be Adaliah!" she exclaimed, flinging herself into the car to hug the girl, who was fixing her mass of curls into a ponytail with help from the overhead mirror.

"Please. Call me Lia. Or Dalia. Or Ade, like Hyde does. Anything but Adaliah," she told her, giving the older woman a warm embrace.

"Lia, then. I like it. It suits you," Kitty said, taking her hand and pulling her out of the car. "How was your trip?"

"Terrible," Ade said. "Hyde drove like a tortoise most of the day."

"How would you know? You were asleep!" he said.

"Because you woke me up at six in the morning for a trip we weren't supposed to take until tomorrow!"

"Because we'd get stuck in the blizzard!" Hyde said for what seemed like the umpteenth time. He'd have to remember how moody Ade got with lack of sleep. She was normally much brighter than this.

Kitty dismissed the comment without another thought. "Steven's a good driver. Well...usually."

"Thanks, Mrs. Form - Mom."

"Now come on, get inside, get inside!" she said, ushering them into the house. "Have you two eaten? We've just sat down to dinner."

"Yeah, we grabbed McDonald's," Hyde said.

"About four hours ago," Ade added.

"Goodness, you must be starving! Come on, I have lasagna waiting."

Hyde and Ade followed behind her.

"Yep. I knew I'd like her," his cousin whispered.

"It's impossible not to. Everyone likes Mrs. Forman," Hyde said.

"Well, look what the cat dragged in," Red said.

"Hyde! You're early!" Donna said, running to wrap her arms around him in a hug.

"There's a blizzard in Chicago we were trying to beat," he said, giving her a smile.

"Great to see you, man," Eric said, grasping his shoulder.

"You too, man. You look good."

It was true. The skinny neighbor boy was still as skinny as ever, but had finally figured out how to grow some facial hair. It wasn't much, but it was no milk moustache. He even had some fuzz coming in on his chin.

"How's the kid?" Hyde asked, pulling away from Donna's embrace to get a look.

"Happy and healthy. And has recently decided to take up room in my ribs," the redhead replied.

Hyde grimaced. "Ouch. Sounds awful, Big Red."

Donna shrugged. "It'll all be worth it once he's here."

"He?" Hyde asked.

"Or she. Whatever."

Eric turned to see the girl standing behind his brother. "Oh, hey."

"Right," Hyde said. "Formans, this -"

"Is Adaliah Jones," she finished for him. "Forgive my cousin's awful manners."

"Hey, I was about to introduce you!" Hyde said.

"I know. I'm just teasing. Lighten up."

"Oh! Adaliah! Great to meet you; we've heard loads about you," Eric said, giving her a hug. "All good things, no need to worry."

"So this is a hugging family, eh?" she asked.

Red snorted. "You won't be getting any hugs from me."

Ade smiled. "You'd be surprised. I can be very persuasive."

"Not with me. I'd rather go bowling with a member of the Vietcong."

"I'm so sorry, Adaliah, we weren't expecting Hyde to bring anyone," Donna said.

"Call her Lia, Donna," Kitty told her daughter-in-law. "Did I forget to mention Steven was bringing his cousin?"

"Uh, yeah, Mom. You kind of did," Eric said.

Kitty shrugged. "Oh well. She can stay in Laurie's old room, since we still don't know whether she's coming. She didn't call you two, did she?"

Eric looked at her like she had just spoken an alien tongue.

"Yeah, I didn't think so," Kitty answered her own question.

"Can we stop with the sentiment and questions and eat this damn lasagna before the Commies invade England?" Red said.

The group took their places at the table, filling their dishes with the delicious meal.

"What makes you think they're gonna invade England, Mr. F?" Ade asked.

"If they invaded anywhere, it'd be England. Bunch of pansy asses. What kind of man gets addicted to tea?" Red said.

Hyde didn't bother to point out that the English could drink just as much as any American. He'd been acquainted with several men from across the pond in the music business, mostly from London, but a few from Sheffield, Manchester and Cornwall as well. One of his business associates had even gifted him with coveted tickets to a Stones concert. Now, there was a night to remember.

Too bad it included Jules.

"I quite like England," Ade said, receiving a look from the older man that rivaled the stare she often gave Hyde when she wanted to prove him wrong. "What? The Stones, Zeppelin and the Beatles all came from there."

"Bunch of hippie bands," Red said.

"How's the lasagna?" Kitty cut in before Steven's cousin got into an argument with her husband. She knew he'd be even moodier about letting her stay than he already was if she let their dispute continue. It'd been too many years since they'd had the others hanging around and Red had become far too used to what Kitty called loneliness and Red called much-deserved solitude.

"Delicious as always, Mom," Eric said, as the rest of them nodded.

Hyde was about to shove another forkful into his mouth when the phone rang.

"Steven, can you get that, please?"

"But, Mrs. Forman -" he started, with no intention of getting up from the table. He was perfectly content in his current position.

"Steven, answer the damn phone," Red said without missing a beat.

"On it," he said, unwilling to risk the wrath of his surrogate father if he didn't comply with the order, no matter how much he longed to continue his dinner without interruption.

In only a mere few paces, he found himself picking up the cord phone, which hung in the kitchen as it always had, a kitchen where nothing had been modified. As much as things changed, some stayed the same, and he was grateful that the place he had spent his adolescence seemed frozen in time, as if none of them had ever left and still spent every day hanging out in Forman's basement.

"Forman residence."

"Steven?"

It was the unmistakable sound of a tiny dancer who could easily pass as a much less sweet Snow White. He hadn't heard that overly girly voice in more than two years, since he tried to confess that he wanted her back and she had left before he was able to get a word out. Hearing that voice again caused a weird sensation he'd been sure he'd long gotten past and it irritated him further to realize his pulse had begun to race. Tiny bumps appeared on his forearms as he gripped the receiver and cursed under his breath that she could still cause this reaction.

Thankfully, no one else seemed to notice, too absorbed in their own meals to even have the slightest interest in who was calling at that time of the night. Ade would have never let him live it down and would be further convinced he still wanted his ex, which couldn't be further from the truth. Hey, no one could control their reaction when the woman they thought could have become the love of their life walked back into it.

Or, in this case, called back into it.

Only Leo knew that he'd actually planned to try to get Jackie back before she up and moved to Madison, effectively destroying any hope he had that she might still have feelings for him.

Now, over two years later, he no longer cared.

But apparently his body did.

He chalked it up to the lack of a good lay since he kicked Jules' cheating ass to the curb. He'd have to do something about that, and soon.

"Jackie."

"Yeah, hey," she said, clearly unaffected, which irritated him even more. "Is Mrs. Forman there?"

He nodded, then realized she wouldn't be able to see through the phone. "Yeah, she's here."

"Well, put her on!"

He laughed and shook his head. She was just as demanding as ever. "Give me a sec." Cupping the phone receiver with one hand, he turned to look at the woman.

"Jackie's on the phone for ya."

"Oh, good!" his surrogate mother said, jumping out of her seat and running to take the phone. "Jackie! How's Michael? Yes, we saw everything, it's all over the TV…"

Hyde lingered, pretending to shuffle through the various storage containers in the fridge while he listened in on the conversation. Jackie's voice could be shrill, and he was sure it sounded that way at the moment, but it wasn't high enough for him to be able to hear her side from that distance. Thankfully, Mrs. Forman was repeating enough that he didn't have any trouble decoding what was happening to his old friend Michael Kelso.

That he had pantsed someone was no surprise. That that someone happened to be the famous Rick Springfield, well, karma really was a bitch.

Spotting Red's six pack in the fridge, he started to reach for a beer. It took everything in him to retract his hand and grab a pop instead.

Nearly two years and still the urge to drink was hard to fight.

But it sure beat getting his ass kicked by Ade later on if he did take the bait and take a sip of the frothy drink.

Who needed a government-paid sponsor when you had Adaliah Jones keeping a hawk-like eye on your drinking habits?

"Well, they're still working on getting Michael out," Kitty said as she hung up the phone.

"Kelso pantsed Rick Springfield?" Hyde asked.

"You didn't hear? It was all over the news," Donna said.

"No, this one's snoring probably drowned out the news report on the radio," Hyde said, sitting back down and nodding at Ade.

"I don't snore!" she said.

"Like an ocean liner," he said.

"You know, Winston Kelso is a fairly intelligent man. He deals with complicated numbers on a regular basis that I wouldn't begin to understand," Red said. "How he could have a son like he does blows my mind."

"Yeah," Kitty said. "Summer Kelso even graduated college and worked her way up to be the Associate Producer for the news station. Wonder what she thought when she realized her son was going to be airing in tonight's broadcast."

"It must be those hippie grandparents of his," Red said. "And all those kids."

Donna gave her husband a pointed look. "If we ever have as many kids as the Kelsos, I'll dig your grave myself."

"Noted," Eric said. "There goes my dream of starting a Jedi training academy with our kids."

Hyde noticed Donna give him a swift kick under the table.

"Ow! I'm just kidding!" he said.

"No marriage disputes while I'm eating," Red said.

"Welcome to the madhouse," Hyde murmured to his cousin, who laughed.

XOXO

Jackie had hoped they would soon get Michael out after the phone call with Mrs. Forman, but things hadn't gone as planned.

Michael had been forced to spend the night in the holding cell. Although Rick kept his word and dropped the charges almost immediately after he told them he would, the police department had obtained a copy of Michael Kelso's many antics and decided they would teach him a lesson. Apparently there were only so many times your pranks could become public record before the authorities chose to do something about it. While Jackie hadn't been pleased with the idea, it had given her more time with the gorgeous cop. At least something good had come from the situation.

When Jackie and Brooke were finally able to bring the man back to Jackie's apartment early the next morning, he was in a huff.

"Some old guy touched my hair!" Kelso complained as he walked in with Brooke by his side. He hadn't detached himself from her since they were reunited in the station hallway. "And another guy threatened to punch my face because I told him he desperately needed a makeover."

"Michael! You can't just tell prison people they need makeovers," Jackie said.

"Why not?" he asked. "Someone could easily make a fortune off that. They're all a mess and that depressing orange isn't helping. Gray isn't why jailbirds are unhappy, Jackie. It's that hideous orange. Imagine wearing and staring at that all day. Well, that and all those dog collars they wear."

She had to admit that he had a point. Orange was a color she wore rarely, and only if it meshed well with another aspect of her outfit.

"So what did you learn from all this?" Brooke prompted.

"I learned to check around for cops before pantsing anyone in a California park," Kelso responded.

"Michael!" his wife said disapprovingly.

"I learned that Rick Springfield doesn't wear underwear?" he guessed. Judging by the puzzlement on his face, his cluelessness about the correct answer to Brooke's question was genuine.

"You are impossible!" she said, throwing her hands up in the air.

"But you love me," he said.

"Unfortunately," she replied, then turned to their daughter. "Betsy, what did Daddy learn?"

"That you can't pull down someone's pants without quences," the little girl replied.

"Very good, baby. It's 'consequences,'" Brooke smiled, pulling out a picture book from her purse that Betsy happily took.

Jackie watched as her goddaughter ran off to undoubtedly snuggle under her godmother's covers as she let herself be consumed by another adventure.

Even Betsy's preschool was shocked that the little girl was already reading at kindergarten level, but Jackie expected nothing else from the daughter of Brooke Kelso, although she never understood how anyone could find books that fascinating. While she acted dumber than she was when with Michael so that he would feel smarter, she had still never been the type to pick up a book and read it for fun. Well, except for romances and Nancy Drew, of course - not that she would ever admit the latter.

"Show off," Kelso called after his daughter.

"Honestly, Michael! You didn't even consider that I could lose my job over this!" Jackie said.

"What?" he asked, bewildered. "Did that asshole Rick Springfield get you fired?"

"Well, no, but he easily could've! You can't go around pantsing people with that much power and influence, especially people I work with. You aren't a child anymore, Michael."

"Yes, Mom," he grumbled.

"I'm just saying exactly what Mrs. Forman will say when we see her."

He looked at her, mouth agape. "You didn't tell her!"

"She saw it on the TV, Michael!"

His annoyance transformed into a glimmer of happiness. "I was on TV?"

"Yeah, you were. It was all over the news - could've been international, for all we know. Rick is famous all over the world."

"Hell yeah!" Kelso said, pumping his fist. "I'm going to be famous! Finally!"

"Michael!" Brooke admonished.

"I mean...oh shit?"

Brooke shook her head. "Well, at least you'll have one over on your brothers. It'll give me something to throw in Sherry's face over Christmas dinner when she starts talking about the renovations on their million dollar home. Honestly, who would want to spend a million dollars on a house?"

Aside from Casey, most of Kelso's siblings had somehow managed to do well in life, despite the burden of the infamous Kelso name. Daniel Kelso was a cardiac surgeon in one of Maryland's top hospitals. Elliott Kelso ran a local TV station in San Diego. Nick Kelso, the husband of Sherry, was a top litigator in DC. Billy Kelso was married to his college sweetheart, who just so happened to be the mayor's daughter. Most surprisingly, Katrina Kelso, who Hyde had once declared would be a virgin for a long time, had married into Hollywood elite and was expecting her first child.

Only Casey and Jamie still lived at home, Casey having recently been fired from his position as the gym teacher at PC High, while Jamie was on parole after robbing the Piggly Wiggly.

"Elliott probably reported on it," Michael said proudly, although Jackie decided the incident was nothing to be proud of. The boy was lucky Rick hadn't been out for vengeance. Most celebrities wouldn't take kindly to being humiliated on national television and would do everything possible to make the source of their embarrassment pay for their actions, she was sure of it.

"Promise me you won't pants people anymore," Brooke said.

"Babe, you told me not to make promises I won't keep," he replied.

"Michael," she prodded.

He let out a loud sigh. "Fine. I promise I won't pants international rockstars or anyone famous, especially if there's any chance that a member of authority might be nearby. But I make no promises about my friends."

"Okay," Brooke nodded. "I'll accept that," she added as she gave him a kiss that he happily began to return.

"I'm still waiting for you to get a room!" Jackie said.

"You're the one who keeps inviting us to your place!" Michael pointed out.

She frowned. He was right. Every time the Kelsos left, she found herself forgetting exactly how nauseating they were, until she was reminded during their next visit.

"Well stop kissing and help me pack!"

"Jackie, you're only going away for a couple weeks," Brooke said, as she took note of the four empty suitcases that were currently taking up room in the corner.

"To Point Place!" Jackie said. "Where I have to be the most stylish, and prepared for all potential weather situations, and pack extra clothes because I just know one of the boys is going to spill his beer all over me."

"You'd easily be the most stylish chick in Point Place even if you were wearing a pantsuit made from a paper bag and a mophead for a hat. Two suitcases will suffice. One bag and one carryon," Brooke said, wheeling the chosen luggage over to Jackie's bed and then proceeding to open her dresser drawers.

"See, this is why I need you," Jackie responded as she placed the other two suitcases back into the closet.

"You don't need anyone, honey. You're a strong, beautiful, independent woman who can easily take care of herself. But you could definitely do with some packing tips. Why do you even have four suitcases?"

"It's from when Adam and I went to New York for his job interview."

A few months prior to taking the job with the BBC, Adam had interviewed at the NBC building in Manhattan and invited Jackie along. The visit was the last time she had seen Fez, nearly eight months ago.

Her longtime friend was living the high life as Broadway's most beloved hairstylist, which meant his free time was limited. She hadn't been able to see him as long as she would've liked, but it was nice to visit with him all the same.

Like Michael and Brooke, he had enjoyed Adam's company, but Jackie knew he felt there was someone else she should be with, mostly because Fez was always telling her about Steven.

Well, he tried to, anyway. She was a pro at cutting Fez off.

She was looking forward to catching up with him, but hoped there would be no extra talk of Steven than was necessary.

After all, he would be there.

Single.

And so would she.

Single.

It was a good thing she didn't feel anything for him anymore, aside from wanting him with a girl who wasn't going to cheat on him, twice, or fake a marriage.

Honestly, where did Steven find these women?

She blamed his issues with his mother.

"Have you heard from Adam?" Brooke asked.

"No. Not since we broke up. I did see Esther last month and she said he's doing really well in the studio. He already got to do a broadcast from Paris!" Jackie said.

"That's good. I'm happy for him. I'm sure he misses you."

"I don't want him to miss me. It'd be too hard. He needs to get on with his life. And I need to get on with mine," Jackie said, staring at her bikini as she contemplated whether to pack it.

As if reading her mind, Brooke gave her a pointed look. "A bikini? In Point Place? In April? Really?"

"Good point," she replied, putting the bikini back in her drawer and throwing several sweaters into the suitcase in its place.

"Here," Brooke said, cringing at the toppling pile of clothes created by Jackie tossing things onto the bed. "Let me just do it."

Her best friend grinned. "I love you."

"Yeah, yeah. You're lucky I'm in that maternal stage. A month ago, I would have bitten your head off about leaving your packing until the last minute, again. We're flying out later this afternoon, and you haven't even touched your bags."

"What's the point of packing when I know you'll always do it for me?" Jackie shrugged.

Brooke pursed her lips momentarily, then sighed. "You're right. I'm so predictable."

"But oh so loved."

"Uh-huh. Hand me those boots."

Jackie did as requested.

"Those gloves."

In went her favorite pair of red cashmere gloves.

"The hat."

And her white winter hat.

Even in Wisconsin, the days of April weren't usually freezing, but the nights could get damn cold. Better to be safe than a victim of hypothermia.

"Still not packed, Jackie?" Kelso asked as he returned from the kitchen with two glasses of ice water for the girls and a beer for himself.

"Oh, shut up, Michael. You never pack," Jackie said, taking the water from her ex.

"Why would I when my wife does it so well?"

Brooke looked at him and took the other glass. She paused after taking a sip, her fingers sliding through his thick hair. "Y'know," she said coyly, "maybe I should make you pack next time."

She removed her hand as Kelso gave her a horrified gaze. "But I'm so bad at it!"

"It's not that difficult. You put clothes into a bag and zip it up. It's not like trying to bake a Crème brûlée."

"Then why doesn't Jackie do it?"

"Because Jackie overpacks," Brooke said.

"Well maybe I'll overpack, too!" Kelso said.

"You underpack," his wife reminded him.

"And that's why you do it," he told her.

Brooke paused in the middle of folding one of Jackie's shirts to frown at her husband.

"It's okay," Jackie said, placing an arm around her best friend's shoulders. "Every group has a Mrs. Forman. You just happen to be ours."

"Well," Brooke contemplated, setting the folded clothing into the bag, "I guess that's not so bad. Not everyone can balance a career and a houseful of seven kids and come out on top."

She noticed Kelso begin to speak and cut him off. "We are not having seven kids, Michael!"

"What about seven dogs?"

"No!"

"Okay, five dogs and two cats."

"Michael!"

"Three dogs and four cats?"

"One dog and one cat! We've discussed this!"

Jackie laughed. Even their arguments were sickeningly endearing. The two were still fairly fresh in their marriage, still in the honeymoon stage, but Jackie hoped her friends would always argue over silly things like this. Betsy shouldn't have to to live with parents who could barely tolerate each other, like in Jackie's childhood. If she didn't know any better, she would assume that the match between Jack Burkhart and Pamela Winthrop was an arranged marriage, but she knew they had once been in love - a long, long time ago, the spark clearly fading faster than either expected.

Maybe it was a lesson in rich marrying rich: that it didn't turn out well. But that couldn't be true. Lady Diana Spencer had wed Prince Charles the previous year, and they seemed very happy. But then again, anyone would be when their wedding was watched by a reported 750 million worldwide.

She wondered if Prince Edward were single. Prince Charles' much younger brother was a gorgeous sight to behold and becoming the sister-in-law of the world's most beloved princess certainly didn't hurt.

Would Adam get the chance to meet the royal family? Would she ever know if he did?

"God, Brooke. I never get to win anything," Kelso said with a pout.

"You won me," his wife said.

"You are not a prize to be won," he corrected, which in itself was a statement completely contradictory to what he would have said only a few years ago. Jackie was impressed by how much he had grown in such a short time, even if he did still have his many moments of immaturity - many, many moments, as was proven only the previous day.

"Very good. I was testing you," she said, giving him a peck on the nose.

And just like that, their argument was over.

If only it had been that easy in the Burkhart home.

Things could have been a lot different.