Lyla watched out the kitchen window as she washed the last of the dinner dishes. Kenny and Piper were in the driveway playing basketball, while Ellie sat at the kitchen table writing in her journal. She'd been doing that a lot lately. Lyla wanted to ask her what she wrote about, but she was afraid Ellie would see that as an invasion of her privacy. Still, Lyla worried. While Kenny had welcomed her into his life almost instantly, Ellie had always been guarded, and wasn't much for confiding in her stepmother. It had to be hard growing up without her mom. Shit, Lyla had grown up with the most loving mother in the world, and she still wound up a drug-addicted porn star. When Ellie noticed Lyla watching her, she slammed her journal closed and looked up at her accusingly.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothin'," Lyla said, smiling kindly at the pudgy preteen. "I was just thinking. Your hair's getting really long. I've got an appointment at the salon next week. Wanna come with?"

"No thanks," Ellie responded, her tone not nearly as polite as her words. "I like my hair the way it is." Lyla nodded, swallowing hard.

"Okay."

"When's my dad going to be home?" Ellie asked.

"Soon," Lyla assured her, turning back to her dishes. Opie's workdays had been becoming suspiciously longer ever since they'd returned from Charming. He clung to any reason he could find to stay at the shop later- from squeezing in one last job at the end of the day to needing to get caught up on paperwork to scrubbing the tile floor with a toothbrush. Lyla was starting to think he might change the shop hours to stay open twenty four hours, just so he'd never have to come home.

Her stomach began doing flip-flops when Opie pulled into the driveway. Having him home was almost worse than him being gone. There was always so much tension between them. Lyla fought back tears as she watched her husband hug both of the boys, then shoot hoops with them for a couple minutes before heading inside.

She kept her back turned when he entered the kitchen, hugged and kissed Ellie, and talked to her briefly about her day before sending her upstairs to work on her homework.

"I saved you a plate," Lyla told him without turning around. "It's in the microwave."

"No thanks," Opie replied, opening the fridge and taking out a beer. "Not hungry." This was how just about every night had gone in the Winston household for over a month. Next, Opie would make his way to the family room, sink into his recliner, turn on the TV, and zone out for the rest of the evening. Just the thought of it all made Lyla's blood boil.

She was trying so hard to give Opie his space and the time to process the horrible truth she'd dropped on him about her abortion, but enough was enough. She was all for making amends, but Opie wasn't even giving her that opportunity. They were just…stuck. And Lyla knew that despite what she'd done, she deserved better than that. So did Opie. And so did their children.

"Opie," she said, turning to face her husband as he closed the refrigerator door. Opie ignored her, and began to head out of the kitchen. Lyla snapped. She couldn't take it anymore. "Opie!" she yelled, throwing the plastic cup she was holding to get his attention. Thank God it was plastic. The cup grazed Opie's elbow before clattering the floor, knocking loose the beer he was holding, which then shattered on the freshly mopped linoleum, spilling foamy liquid all over the floor.

"The hell is wrong with you?" Opie growled, bending down to pick up the shards of glass.

"Leave it," Lyla insisted. Normally, he would have ignored her. But something about her tone caught his attention.

"You got something to say?" he asked. He pulled out a chair, dragging its legs through the puddle of beer, and took a seat.

"I have a lot to say, Opie," Lyla told him. "But you wouldn't know that, because you've been pretending I don't exist for the past month and a half."

"That's your fault, not mine," Opie said matter-of-factly. Lyla bit her lip, trying to hold back her temper.

"That may be true," Lyla admitted. "But I'm still your wife. I love this family, Ope. More than anything. And I want to work through this, but I can't do it by myself."

"So what do you want from me?" Opie asked.

"I don't know," Lyla said. "Something. Anything." She slowly walked toward her husband, ignoring the broken glass and spilled beer on the floor. "I miss my husband," she whispered, reaching down to slick Opie's hair back. It was the first time she'd touched her husband in weeks. Her heart was in her throat. Her eyes were confident, but her pulse was racing. It would kill her if he rejected her again. Opie didn't respond to her touch, but he didn't recoil from it either. To Lyla, that was progress.

"Lyla," Opie breathed. Lyla leaned down so that she and Opie were face to face, their eyes locked on one another.

"Just tell me how to fix this," she pleaded, slinking closer to Opie. She felt his hands come up behind her, felt the heat of them on her back, and closed her eyes as she waited for him to grab her around the waist and pull her onto his lap. Just as Opie's finger tips grazed the small of Lyla's back, his breath hot on her neck, the doorbell rang.

"Of-fucking-course," Lyla groaned, her heart sinking as Opie pulled back instinctively. He started to stand up, but Lyla stopped him. "I got it." She let out a frustrated sigh as she left her husband alone in the kitchen and sulked all the way to the front door.

She opened it just enough to see a young, nervous looking girl barely in her twenties standing on the other side. She looked vaguely familiar, but Lyla wasn't sure whether that was because she'd met her before, or simply because she was a textbook crow-eater, right down to the bad dye job and gobbed-on eyeliner.

"Can I help you?" Lyla asked, crossing her arms and stepping back from the door.

"Is Opie home?" the girl asked, her voice shaking and barely audible.

"Who's asking?" Lyla demanded.

"M-my name's Shana," the girl said. "Is this his house?"

"It is," Lyla admitted. "And I'm his wife. Is there something I can help you with?"

"Shit," Opie seethed, appearing behind Lyla at the door. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Hi, Opie," the girl crooned, her eyes lighting up. A sharp pain ripped through Lyla's chest. She knew. Opie squeezed past her, out the front door, closing it behind him. Lyla really wasn't interested in hearing their conversation, but she had no choice. She was trapped. Her legs turned to Jell-O as she sank to the floor, her back against the door. Their voices were muffled on the other side, but she could still hear every word spoken between Opie and the girl who'd come to destroy their lives.

"Lyla, please," Opie pleaded. "Open the door." It had been three hours since the gash from Charming had shown up on his doorstep and turned his entire life upside down, and Lyla hadn't emerged from their bedroom once. He'd gotten the kids ready for bed and tucked them in, cleaned up the spilled beer and broken glass on the kitchen floor, and even finished washing the dishes in the sink. He'd taken some time to himself to think about what the hell he was going to do, and had closed up the house for the night.

All that was left was getting his wife to talk to him. It was almost funny, how much the dynamic between them had changed over the course of the evening. For weeks, Opie had wanted nothing to do with Lyla. He wouldn't talk to her, wouldn't spend time with her, would hardly even make eye contact with her. And now that was all he wanted. To touch her. To see her. To hold her. To apologize to her.

"Go away," Lyla ordered, her voice sounding very far away. She was probably seated in the chair on the far side of the room, out of the danger zone in case Opie decided to break the door down.

"We need to talk," Opie tried to reason with her.

"No we don't," Lyla disagreed. "There's nothing to talk about."

"Baby, there's everything to talk about," Opie said, his voice breaking. It had been forever since he'd called Lyla 'baby,' since he'd shown her any sort of kindness at all. Just another thing for him to have to try to make amends for. His raw emotion seemed to strike a chord with his wife. He heard movement on the other side of the door, then the familiar click of the lock unlocking. Lyla opened the door slowly. She was a mess. Her face was soaked with tears, makeup running in streaks from her eyes to her jaw line. Her eyes were red and swollen and her nose was raw. "I'm so sorry," Opie whispered.

"She's pregnant, Opie," Lyla said, her words so simple, yet so complex. "You cheated on me and you got another woman pregnant."

"I know," Opie conceded. "I know. Will you at least let me explain?" Lyla stepped out of the doorway and retreated into the bedroom, back to her chair in the far corner. Opie followed her, kneeling at her feet.

"Explain," she allowed, curling up into a ball, her arms around her knees.

"When you told me…about the abortion," he began, the words still hard to say, "I was a wreck. I mean- a complete wreck. I felt so betrayed. I hated you. I fucking hated you, Lyla." Lyla glared at him.

"Great," she croaked, her throat swollen from crying. "Thanks for sharing. You done?" Opie shook his head.

"I left Clay's that night and went to the clubhouse," Opie continued. "I got shit-faced. I mean, I was completely obliterated. I won't lie to you and say I had no control over my actions, because I did. I made the choice to fuck that girl. But I wasn't thinking clearly. You hurt me so badly, I just wanted to hurt you back." Lyla laughed.

"Well, you win, Opie," she said. "Because of what I did, I can't get pregnant, so you went out and got someone else pregnant. Congratulations."

"Jesus Christ, Lyla," he sighed. "I never thought she'd get pregnant. I never thought me hooking up with her would blow back on you. I felt awful when I woke up the next morning and thought about what I'd done. Even as angry as I was with you, I knew I couldn't hurt you like that. I never wanted you to find out. I'm sorry." Opie took Lyla's hand in his and kissed it, then held it to his heart. It was the first time he'd shown her affection in way too long. "I'm so sorry."

"Opie," Lyla murmured, burying her head in her hands. Her head was pounding, and it made it hard for her to think. There was a part of her that longed to respond to Opie's touch, to take him up on his offer of comfort and allow it to lead them to their bed for the first time in what felt like forever. But there was another part of her that was completely broken. Her husband was having a baby with another woman. How could she ever forgive that? How could she ever get past it?

"Tell me what to do, baby. Tell me what you want me to do, and I'll do it," Opie pleaded. His words were nearly identical to the ones Lyla had been saying to him for weeks, he knew that. She'd be crazy not to ignore him and disregard him the same way he'd ignored and disregarded her for so long. "She wants money for an abortion. Do you want me to give it to her? I'll go call her right now and tell her yes. She left me her number."

Lyla lifted her head, meeting Opie's eyes. She looked so broken. Opie had only felt this awful one other time in his life- the night Donna died. But there was no place for Donna in his thoughts now. It was Donna's ghost that had kept Opie from fully giving his heart to Lyla in the first place. This woman who loved him, took on his children as her own, gave up her career and her entire life for him- she'd never had all of him. And now she never would. Not if this Shana chick had his baby.

"I get it now," he told her. "I didn't get it before, but I get it now. When she told me she was pregnant, all I could think was, 'how do I make this go away?' I wasn't thinking about having a baby, or being a father. I was thinking about the God-awful timing, about how I didn't want to burden you with it, about how to manage the problem. And I know that's probably how you felt. I was in Ireland, we weren't serious, Donna had only been gone a few months. You were scared, and confused, and unsure of where we were headed. So you did what you thought was best. I see that now." Lyla's eyes welled up with tears as she nodded.

"Yes," she whispered. "If I'd known…"

"I know," Opie said. "You made a decision, and you didn't have a clue that it would impact the rest of our lives. I did the same thing. Only difference is, you made your decision in an attempt to save us. I made mine trying to destroy us." Lyla's shoulders shook as she broke down sobbing. Opie pulled her into his arms, trying not to focus on how good her skin felt against his, or how badly he wanted to kiss her. Sex wouldn't fix this problem, which was a shame, because that was one thing he and Lyla had always excelled at together.

"How do we even know it's your baby?" Lyla asked, her face buried in her husband's shoulder.

"I'll demand a DNA test," Opie explained.

"And if it is?"

"I'll give her the money," he said. Lyla pulled away from him, taking his face in her hands.

"Is that what you want, Opie?"

"I want you," he told her. "I want you and our life and our family. And I'll do whatever it takes to save that."

"This can't be on me," Lyla said, shaking her head. "I already took one baby from you. I won't do that again. If it's yours and you want to keep it…"

"Then what?" Opie asked. "How the hell does that work?" Lyla bit her lip as she studied Opie's face, lost deep in thought.

"Then we keep it," she resolved. "I know girls like her. She's not going to keep that baby. Especially once she knows she can't use it to trap you. There's slim pickings for crow-eaters in Charming these days. Even less when you've got a kid. We pay for the DNA test, and if it's yours, we offer her ten grand to sign over full parental rights to you as soon as the baby's born, tell her she gets jack shit if she has the abortion. Once we have a healthy baby and full custody, she gets her money.

"Lyla?" Opie was confused.

"I can't give you a baby, Opie," Lyla explained. "We'd have to adopt or use a surrogate anyway. That's how I'll have to make myself think of her- as our surrogate. Nothing more, nothing less."

"Are you sure?" Opie asked. Lyla nodded, smiling encouragingly.

"Go call her. Set up the DNA test. We'll figure the rest out from there." Opie shook his head, unable to stop a lone, relieved sob from escaping through his chest.

"You," he began, "are the most incredible woman…"

"Second most incredible woman," Lyla corrected him, referring to the first Mrs. Winston, who was practically a saint, to hear Opie tell it.

"No," Opie insisted. "The most incredible woman. The only woman in my world."

"Yeah?" Lyla asked, grinning slightly.

"Yes," Opie assured her. He stood up, lifting her up out of the chair. She wrapped her legs around Opie's waist as he kissed her, tears running down his face. Of all the things he'd never be able to forgive himself for, taking Lyla for granted for so many years would forever be at the top of that list. He'd married her because he was lonely, and because his children needed a mother. How had he not seen until now how lucky he'd gotten? Donna was his first love, and there would forever be a place for her in his heart. But Lyla was his soul mate, his equal, his ride or die. He knew that now. And he would never forget it again.

Trinity awoke to the sound of snoring, just as she had for the past week straight. At first she thought it was cute, but now it was just annoying. She watched as the muscular, tattooed back facing her rose and fell with each snort and grumble. She smiled. She'd been doing that a lot lately. She took her pillow and playfully smacked her lover in the back of the head. His body jerked. The snoring stopped. He rolled over and grabbed the pillow out of her hands, hitting her back with it. She giggled.

"Is that how you say 'good morning'?" he asked, tossing the pillow aside and grabbing Trinity around the waist, tickling her as she squirmed.

"Simon, stop," she laughed, trying in vain to fight him off. He pinned her arms down, his face just inches from hers, his bright blue eyes fixed intently on her sleep-wrinkled face. He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. Trinity shivered with delight, running her hands through Simon's mess of thick bed head as she kissed him back.

It was funny how things worked out sometimes. Trinity had only agreed to go out with Simon out of pity, and partially to make Juice jealous. She was surprised by how much she enjoyed his company. He was a completely different person away from the shop. She assumed that was probably because her brother, Opie, and even Juice could be a bit intimidating at times. Simon was the outsider, the kid. His personality got swallowed up in their presence. But he was funny. And charming. And a lot more handsome than she'd ever realized. The kid cleaned up good. When he asked her out a second time at the end of their first date, she didn't hesitate to say yes, and this time for no other reason than that she genuinely liked spending time with him.

It was at the end of that second date that he kissed her for the first time. She was caught off guard by the effect it had on her. It was just one kiss- a sweet, long, unassuming kiss. But she felt it on her lips for the rest of the night. And she was still thinking about it the next morning when Simon showed up to work with flowers- daisies, her favorite. The thing that had bothered her the most about him, his youth, turned out to be one of the things she liked best about him. He wasn't jaded like most of the men she'd known in her life.

He had an innocence about him that was endearing, and made no attempt to hide his affection for her. That was refreshing, and not something Trinity was used to. All of her boyfriends back in Ireland had been too afraid of her connections to the Real IRA and the Sons of Anarchy to ever claim her publicly. Most of them were scared off by the life she lived after just a couple of dates. And her first dalliance in America, with a member of SAMCRO, had been a complete disaster. But Simon was different. He was sweet and thoughtful- safe, but still a bit mysterious. Trinity couldn't tell what it was about him, but he definitely had a bit of bad boy in him, a roughness around the edges.

A week after their first date, they made love for the first time. Since then, they'd been nearly inseparable. What had started out as a ploy to make Juice jealous had turned into something else entirely. Her former flame was hardly a thought in her mind any longer, and it drove him crazy. Like most men tend to do, Juice seemed to feel as if he had some sort of claim on Trinity just because they'd had sex, and the fact that she was dating someone else right under his nose made him insane. But that was just an added bonus for Trinity, and one that she hardly cared about anymore. She'd fallen for Simon. Hard. She feared she might even be in love with him.

"Hungry?" she asked as Simon kissed her neck playfully.

"Mmmhmmm…" he growled. Trinity laughed, pushing him off of her.

"Not for that," she scolded. "We have to be at the shop in forty five minutes."

"That's plenty of time," Simon protested.

"Maybe for you," Trinity teased. Simon let out a defeated sigh, then rolled back to his side of the bed. He got up, collecting his clothes from the floor. Trinity watched as he pulled on his jeans.

"Qui se vindicantibus," she murmured.

"What?" Simon asked, turning around quickly.

"The tattoo on your back, above the cross. What does it mean?" she asked. Simon shrugged.

"Can't remember," he said, a bit embarrassed. "I got it on my eighteenth birthday. I was trashed. I think it means something about being strong or independent. I don't know."

"We could ask Tara," Trinity suggested. "Pretty sure she took Latin in college. It is Latin, right?"

"I think so," Simon said nonchalantly. He pulled on the white tee he always wore under his work clothes, then made his way back to the bed, sitting down beside Trinity. "Can I ask you something?" he inquired, changing the subject.

"Sure," she said.

"Do you ever resent them? Jax and Tara?" Trinity's brow furrowed in confusion.

"For what?" she asked.

"You know," Simon explained. "You're his daughter, too. John Teller's. The motorcycle club, that's your legacy too, right? Doesn't it bother you that it was all just given to them, and they threw it away? What makes them anymore deserving than you? Why did Jax get your dad, the family, the throne? Why did you get cast off to Ireland, raised in secrecy by a single mother?" Trinity sat in silence for a long moment, stunned by the turn their pillow talk had taken.

"Wow," she finally said, her voice quiet. "It sounds like you've thought about this a lot."

"Just a little," Simon countered, shrugging his shoulders. "I hear a lot, you know. Shop talk. And it just doesn't make a whole lot of sense to me, the way things worked out."

"Huh. Well. Despite whatever you've heard, there's still a lot you don't know. There's a lot I don't even know. But what I can tell you is this- I love my mother, and I love my history. I don't care about the club, or any title or throne or what have you. I wouldn't trade my life growing up in Ireland for anything- certainly not to have been raised in Charming by JT and Gemma. I couldn't even imagine. And Jax and Tara have never been anything but wonderful to me. So no, I don't resent them. Not at all."

"Okay," Simon said, satisfied. He kissed Trinity on the forehead and smiled. He knew she was a sucker for his smile.

"Okay," Trinity agreed, still slightly unsettled. "Can we eat breakfast now?"

"Sure," Simon said. "Whatcha makin'?"

"Oh no," Trinity protested. "After that little curveball, you're on the hook for breakfast."

"No problem," Simon smiled. "McDonald's it is." Trinity giggled, throwing her pillow at him once more.

"Hey, babe?" he asked as he made his way to the door, headed for the bathroom.

"Yeah?"

"Think you and Tara and the boys might want to get away this weekend? The lake where my family has a cabin is beautiful this time of year. I'd really like to just leave town, decompress for a couple days. I'd love to take you guys with me."

"You are so sweet," Trinity said, smiling in surprise. "I'll talk to Tara about it tonight."

"Excellent," Simon said, blowing Trinity a kiss as he left the room.