I HOPE YALL ARE ENJOYING THIS - I HOPE IN THE NEXT COUPLE OF CHAPTERS TO START TO REASON OUT WITH YOU WHY I TOOK THIS POINT OF VIEW AND HOW THEY GOT TO BE IN THIS PLACE... THANKS FOR BEARING WITH ME - PLEASE KNOW IT'S GOING TO GET GOOD - STICK WITH ME! ALSO ALSO ALSO - I LOVE HEARING FROM MY READERS - MESSAGE ME! ASK ME QUESTIONS! ITS MY FAVORITE THING ABOUT WRITING - IF YOU DON'T AGREE WITH ME - I'D LOVE TO DISCOURSE WITH YOU ABOUT IT! ALSO LEAVE REVIEWS BUT THATS SOMETHING DIFFERENT :) 3

The smell of dinner lingered in the air, despite the late hour. She walked into the house, tossing her heels off into the corner as she shut the door behind her. They'd gotten the young boys back. They'd secured all of the negotiations.

But as she walked into the kitchen, where just the light above the sink was on, she wished she could let the days experiences fall away like her too-tall high heels. Wished she could leave the tension somewhere other than where she had to sleep. Or attempt to.

She heard Henry's calming voice from the living room, "Dinner's in the microwave."

She smiled at him, loving how his glasses got pushed down to the end of his nose as he looked over them at her. A tired smile – but a smile nonetheless. "You have no idea how good that sounds."

He shrugged, "Allison cooked, so I'd look at it before you thanked me."

Bess just hit the few minutes on the microwave without looking at it, "I just need something."

And then she leaned against the counter, looking up the stairs. She'd been too busy to actually process what had happened that afternoon. It seemed like a life-time ago that she'd dropped Emma off at Georgetown for Henry to take her home. There had been no room for explanations. Just worried looks exchanged between the two of them before she whisked away to the State Department to work out the world's problems.

Henry could read her mind as he walked over and stood against the kitchen island, "From what I could tell, it was just bruises and scrapes." He shook his head in amazement, "But she's gonna have quite the shiner for a few days."

Bess smiled through the exhaustion, "She's probably not that upset about it." And she leaned over, elbows on the counter as she put her face in her hands, "But, for her, ignorance is bliss."

She couldn't see his face, but she could tell from the tone of his voice that he was concerned, "Babe?"

She took a deep breath, "Did she tell you she got to come with me to the White House?"

"She did." His voice quiet, "She asked me why it made you so sad that she had to go with you."

She shook her head as she stood up, "It wasn't that she had to come with me…" She'd taken all of the kids to work with her – she'd even had Allison and Jason with her playing in the back of the room while she taught her political history class. It wasn't that. And Bess looked over at her husband, her teeth biting on her lower lip, "She had a long conversation with Lydia Dalton."

He let out a quiet, "Oh…" And then looked down. As he tried to process. He nodded his head, "Yeah, that would make your day a little more stressful."

She chuckled sarcastically as she walked over and pulled the food from the fridge, "Spending the whole rest of the day wondering whether somehow Emma could've said something, made a movement, or just even the way she looks…" And she set the plate on the table, suddenly not hungry, "Henry, I felt so guilty all day long."

She felt his arms around her almost instantaneously. His hands rubbing her back as she leaned against his shoulder, "You can't turn back time, babe."

She just nodded, "But, I couldn't stop thinking about the fact that the little girl she put a bandaid on – that… she was…" There were no tears – she wasn't sad. She just felt an immense guilt on her.

Henry finished her thought, "That she was interacting with the product of her husband's infidelity."

Bess nodded, laying her cheek against his shoulder, while she breathed, "I also wondered if she deserved to know." Henry's head rested against her hair, "I know it might hurt her, but…" She knew why. "It would make me feel better."

Henry pulled her away from him, and looked deep into her eyes. She realized just how much she loved this man. And he said, "I don't know what the right thing is, but…" He touched her cheek, "You can't let Conrad's decision with his marriage add guilt to you, babe."

She knew he was right. "I couldn't live without telling you, and I know that hurt you… so much."

Henry's face blinked of buried pain for a second before he softened, "It was the hardest thing I ever had to hear." But he rubbed her back again as he added, "But if it had come from anyone else, Bess, I think I'd have never gotten through it."

Bess nodded – she knew that was the right decision. She knew that Conrad's decision not to tell Lydia of their mistake years before – that was on his conscience. Bess just laid her head back down on his shoulder as she whispered, "Henry, I still will never understand how you…"

His head tilted to the side, so he was looking down at her, "Don't say it." And he laid his head down against her forehead, "I love you, and that's all. Don't question it, babe. I am married to the absolute perfect human being."

And she ignored the plate of food on the table. Instead she followed him up the stairs, past the kids' rooms, where they checked on the sleeping children. Allison asleep in her perfectly decorated bedroom. Henry took Jason's headphones off his ears before he pulled the covers over the sleeping boy. And they both stood in the doorway of Emma's room, watching the black-eyed child sleep – peaceful breaths. Sleeping without any care in the world. The way her little fingers curled under her cheek – those same fingers that Bess had watched wrapped around Henry's pinky finger only hours after her birth. The forehead Henry had kissed before smiling at Bess that day in the hospital – talking about how perfect their little girl was. Their family.

And Bess knew that she was married to a saint.

Someone who had forgiven the unforgiveable. Someone who had accepted another man's child as his own – and loved that baby just as much, if not more in a different way – than their other three children. He'd done everything to assure Bess that Emma was his daughter – that there was no difference.

As Bess curled up in bed against Henry, his arms pulling her close to him as she tried to rest, she knew that Emma would never know what it felt like to be without a father – that Henry had filled that in such a way that even God couldn't have designed it better. As her eyes began to close, Bess just reveled in the way he breathed next to her – calming her, stabilizing her.

And she hoped that this love that Henry had for Emma – that it would keep her child's sleep peaceful and content – always knowing she was loved.

Bess knew that the way that Henry loved Emma – it was just another way in which Bess knew Henry loved her.