Chapter Eleven

It had been a slow day at work, no cows with mastitis, no horses with a broken leg, no pigs giving birth, and no pets to spay or neuter, so, instead of sitting around her office and harassing the nurses and receptionists by squirting water at them through needles, Caitlyn had decided to pick her kids up early, take them out for a ridiculously unhealthy afternoon snack, and let her sister have more time to get ready for her big family night that evening with Ryan. When she had dropped the boys off that morning, Marissa had seemed slightly distracted, but she had dismissed her concern. After all, how big of a deal was it to have dinner with an ex when your three kids were there with you? But, as she made her way up the driveway towards the entrance of the studio, she started to question her instincts. There was no one outside which was a rarity on a beautiful, warm February day, for Marissa always liked to take the kids out to play, and she couldn't hear any noise coming from inside the house either. Her sister's car was parked in the garage, she could see it through the windows, so she knew they were home, but what five young kids and one slightly sensitive, neurotic adult could be doing so silently, Caitlyn had little to no idea.

Surprising herself, she knocked. There was no sense in startling her already on-edge older sister. "Hey, what's going on around here," she asked, softening her voice when she realized Bailey was reading while he answered the door. "Kid, this place is quieter that the eighteenth green at Augusta National during the Masters when Tiger's attempting to sink his tournament winning birdie put."

She had to wait several seconds for her nephew to respond while he finished the sentence he was on, but, when he did put the book aside and look up at her, he was smiling. "Nice sports reference, Aunt Caity."

"I've been brushing up on my athletic knowledge now that Atwood's back and sniffing around. No one is going to one-up me."

Confused, the ten year old asked her, "why?"

"Because I'm the queen of quick quips and pop culture references, I'm competitive, and I really don't like your Dad. I just pretend to somewhat put up with him for your sake and your Mom's. But that's not what I want to talk about," she rapidly changed the subject. "Where are all the hellions?"

"Quentin and Carter are taking their naps up in my room," Bailey recited as if he had memorized a prepared report, "Rowan is in her own room watching that movie you made of her birthday party last year…."

"Well, her birthday's coming up in two months," Caitlyn interrupted, "she has to get prepared."

"And JJ's watching Scooby-Doo upstairs in the living room."

"So then where's your Mom? Isn't she supposed to be watching all of you?"

The little boy shrugged his shoulders. "She's in the closet."

"Oh, sweetheart, it's one torrid affair, a marriage, and three kids too late for that." His bewildered expression stopped the older woman in her tracks and made her pause to speak to him, once again, before continuing up the stairs to find her sister. "Do they still offer sex-ed in sixth grade?" Bailey nodded his head in affirmation. "Alright then, ask me about that comment in about two more years. It'll make more sense then. I'm going to make sure your Mom hasn't done something stupid….like give herself bangs. We might be a little while. Can you keep an eye on the brats for me until your Mom and I are finished? I'll make it worth your while if you can make sure we're not disturbed."

"How worth my while?"

Winking at her nephew, the aunt teased, "I'm talking about the Benjamin's, baby."

Intrigued, Bailey pushed, "you'll give me a fifty to watch the kids?"

"A fifty," the older woman shrieked, caught off guard, "are you crazy? I was just making a reference to monetary compensation. If you want a literal statement, I'm talking about the Lincoln's baby."

"Five bucks might have been worth it when you were a kid," the ten year old admitted, "but that was a long time ago."

"You're not scoring any points there, Junior."

"I'm just stating a fact," Bailey argued. "It's called inflation, Aunt Caity. Prices do go up."

"You're too damn smart for your own good, but I'm desperate. How does a $20 sound?"

Walking past her and up the stairs before she could say anything else or retract her offer, Bailey said, "it's a deal," immediately dropping his nose back into his book and dismissing the stunned veterinarian. Making her way upstairs and towards her sister's room, Caitlyn mumbled under her breath. "I see spending time with his father is already deteriorating his personality. Alright," she announced her presence, "what's wrong?"

Peering her head out of the closet, Marissa inquired, "what are you doing here?"

"Don't you think I should be asking you that, R. Kelly?"

"You're early," the older of the two sisters ignored her sibling's barb. "I wasn't going to be in here by the time you were supposed to pick up the kids."

"Boo."

"No, really, why aren't you at work?"

"Apparently, the local pets decided to take it easy on me today. There were no medical emergencies, and no one ordered the Bob Barker special for their four legged, furry friend," the auburn haired woman retorted, "so I decided to spend some time with my kids instead of pestering my employees."

Smirking, Marissa replied, "I'm sure they're very thankful for the reprieve."

"Alright, so that explains why I'm here, but you still haven't confessed as to why you're hiding out and talking to your shoes. Unless they suddenly have the answer to end world hunger or are offering you business advice, then I'm thinking something is wrong."

"I don't know what to wear."

Scrunching her face up in question, Caitlyn wondered out loud, "wear to what?"

"Dinner tonight," the blonde answered, "with Ryan."

"Yeah, and don't forget the little, seemingly insignificant details I like to call Bailey, Rowan, and Shetland. Tonight should be about them, especially Bailey, and not about you and Ryan, so I suggest you wear clothes…with lots of coverage."

"I know that," Marissa agreed, "I do, but I don't want to completely turn him off."

"I'm going to regret this," the younger sibling bemoaned, "but what do you want your outfit to say?"

"I want to present the impression that I'm a Mom first and foremost, but, if he's still interested, I want him to know that I am, too. Granted, we're just going to have takeout tonight and watch movies, but, besides the three guests under the age of twelve, that's practically a date."

"I don't mean to be the downer here. Okay," Caitlyn shrugged, "maybe I am, but you just revealed to the man not even two weeks ago that you kept his son from him for ten years. You're more than just three kids away from tonight being a date. You're also running short in the trust and honesty departments, and who's to say that Ryan even wants a relationship with you?"

"He did before I told him about Bailey."

"You said the key word there, Honey," the vet pointed out, "before. Who knows what he's thinking or feeling now."

"But that's just another reason why I can't figure out what to wear. I want my outfit to say I'm interested just in case he is, too, but I don't want it to be a blatant offer." Sighing in exasperation, the mother of three motioned towards her clothes. "To top it all off, I'm still not back into my regular clothes."

"Ah, those pesky final five pounds a mother has to lose after giving birth."

"I haven't exactly been focused upon working out, even with starting to give classes again. There have been a few other things on my mind lately."

"Understandable."

"I just…this is important to me, Caitlyn. I want to do this right. I want Bailey to get to know his father and learn to love him the way he should have naturally been able to if I had told Ryan the truth all those years ago, I want my younger two children to get to know and spend time with Ryan as well, because he's good to them, and I want Ryan with us, all four of us, all the time. I know it's selfish, I know that I have no right to hope for a relationship with him, but I've given him up and I've settled in my life one too many times, and I'm not going to do it anymore." Standing up from her position on the floor, Marissa continued. "So, I'm going to fight for him, for both me and my children. I'm going to show him that I want to be with him, that the four of us need him in our life, and that, if he wants us, too, we'll be here waiting for him for as long as it takes. That's why what I wear tonight is so important."

"Alright, alright," the younger woman conceded, "you twisted my arm. I'll help you figure out an outfit that attempts to say the monologue you just finished reciting, but I have to tell you, it'd probably just be easier to tell him how you feel instead of trying to show him with your clothes."

"I'm not brave enough to talk to him about how I feel yet," the blonde admitted. "I might be able to tell you all of this while we're standing in my closet, but to face Ryan and completely open myself up just for him to shut me down? Yeah, I'd definitely need some liquid courage to do that, and I'm still breast feeding, so no extra dry, dirty martinis for me."

"Just another reason little Friesian is my favorite nephew." Her sister's glare made Caitlyn hastily switch topics. "But, this isn't about me; this is about your fashion emergency. So, this is what I'd do. I'd wear something cute that's still casual and comfortable, but, just in case something starts to happen, I'd have some sexy lingerie on underneath my clothes."

"Lingerie," the older woman repeated after her sibling. "I can do that."

"Well, now that my job's done here and you can rejoin the company of those with fully functioning mental capacities, I'm going to get my kids and the three of us are going to go out for some greasy, fattening food." Pausing by the door, the auburn haired sister looked back in. "Oh, and go with blue lingerie. It'll bring out your eyes."

Crisis averted. With a laugh, she left to get both boys, so she could take them to get their snack. The only thing that served to dim Caitlyn's mood as she pulled out of the studio's driveway was the fact that she was $20 poorer than what she was when she had arrived fifteen minutes before. Bailey hadn't been lying. Inflation really had wrecked havoc on the cost of good childcare. Time, for more than one reason, really was a bitch.

The evening had gone well. Not only did Ryan have Chinese for them, but, thinking like a parent, he had been prepared for Rowan's complaints and picky nature, offering her a wide variety of kid-friendly foods. She and Bailey had settled and agreed upon macaroni and cheese, and, of course, Quentin was still nursing or taking formula. He had also selected a variety of movies, because he wasn't sure what they would like, and so, after several minutes of bickering between the two oldest children, they had decided to let Rowan choose the first film, because she would fall asleep earlier, and Bailey could pick the second. Despite Ryan's disbelief, she was not surprised when her daughter quickly selected Dirty Dancing, because, just as she had been at a young age, the endearing two and a half year old loved movies with music and dancing. Between the first and second films, Marissa had stepped into one of the bedroom in Ryan's new apartment to quietly feed Quentin in peace, knowing that he was ready to be put down for the night. Fortunately, he was a content baby, and, after getting full, he went easily to sleep in his carrier. By the time she rejoined them in the living room, Bailey had just put in the second film, Crocodile Dundee in Los Angeles, and Rowan was sound asleep on the floor beside her very wide awake older brother.

"Hey," a quiet Ryan nudged her shoulder in an attempt to rouse her. If asked, Marissa would swear that she had just closed her eyes at the beginning of the movie for a second or two, but, as she opened them again to peer at the father of her oldest child, she realized the second movie was over, all three of her kids were sound asleep, and that Ryan was watching her with thinly veiled amusement. "I guess you conked out there on me."

"Sorry about that," she hastily apologized, moving away from him on the couch and standing up. "I was up early this morning, and, with the kids, I really don't stay up that late normally."

"It's not a problem," he reassured her. "I was picking on you."

"Well, if you'll help me get them out to the car," she motioned towards the children, "we'll soon be on our way and out of your hair."

"You're not in my hair, and," Ryan dropped his eyes from hers and rubbed the back of his neck almost as if he was nervous, "I'd really feel better if you stayed here tonight. You're exhausted, and I don't want you out driving when you're this tired."

"I'll be fine."

Quirking his eyebrow at her in a challenging manner, he said, "humor me."

"Really, it's no big deal. I'll stop and get a cup of coffee at the convenient store down the street, and I'll even call you as soon as we get home," Marissa offered. "Besides," she pointed out, "you just moved in, and it doesn't look like you're ready for houseguests yet."

"Follow me," he asked her, surprising the mother of three when he took her by the hand and led her down the hallway towards his room. Liking the feeling of his hand holding hers, Marissa tightened her grip and smiled up at him, believing the intimate contact to be a start, even if just a minor one, for them. "Just in case something like this happened," Ryan explained, opening a door she hadn't been through yet and flipping on the light, "I set a room up that your kids can use whenever they want." Inside of the room was not only a set of bunk beds but also a portable crib, and it was decorated in baseball memorabilia. "It's Bailey's room for whenever he feels comfortable enough to stay with me," he elaborated, "but I wanted to make sure that Rowan and Quentin would feel welcome as well."

"Ryan," Marissa looked up at him with unshed tears of appreciation and adoration shining in her eyes, "this is wonderful, but where would I sleep if we stayed here tonight?"

"You can use my room, and I'll take the couch."

Protesting, she argued, "I can't ask you do that."

"You didn't ask; I offered. Now," he instructed, turning her back around and easing her towards his bedroom, "go and get ready for bed, and I'll carry all three kids into their room."

"Well, actually," Marissa admitted, grinning shyly, "now that I'm awake, it'll take me a little while before I fall back asleep. Do you think that we could at least start another movie?"

"Sure," he agreed with a grin. "I actually got Dirty Dancing for the two of us to watch after the kids nodded off, knowing your weak spot for chick flicks with dancing, but Rowan put the kibosh on that plan." Contemplating for a moment, he winked at her once he came up with an idea. "But I think I know what we could watch instead. It has a little something for both of us." Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, he walked them back into the living room, and, together, they put their son and her two younger children to bed. It was just another reaffirming moment for the mother of three, telling her that Ryan did, in fact, want to be a part of their family in every way he could be.

It was several hours later when Marissa woke up, once again, on the couch, but, this time, she and Ryan were alone, and he was asleep, too. They had watched A League of Their Own, a sports movie she could honesty say she enjoyed. Not only did it feature Madonna, but it also had humor and heart, not to mention the fact that some of the baseball moves the girls performed were thanks to detailed choreography. She had laughed and cried at various points of the film, and, when it was over, she and Ryan had sat together on the couch, cuddled closely so that their voices would not wake the children, and talked. They talked about simple things – the kids' and their own various tastes in movies, ideas of what they could do to spend time together the next weekend, and how, even so many years before Rosie O'Donnell had admitted that she was lesbian, her fondness for women was obvious despite the fact that her character was supposed to be straight. Some things were just apparent no matter what, and, she had mused silently to herself, that's exactly how she would describe their connection with one another. However, somewhere during their conversation, the two of them had ended up falling asleep, her head resting on his shoulder.

Not wanting him to sleep like that for the rest of the night, she rose, quickly stretched out her stiff muscles, and then gently shook Ryan awake. "Hey, come on," she urged, moving to pull him up after her, "let's go to bed."

"Wait," he resisted, "what do you mean? I'm sleeping out here, remember?"

"I know that's what you said, but it's ridiculous," Marissa argued. "We shared a bed for months platonically back when I lived in Seattle. There's no reason why we can't do it tonight, too."

"But that was years ago," Ryan pointed out. "A lot has changed since then. I mean, we have a son now."

"Exactly," she laughed. "I think we're past the point where we can be shy with one another. Come on," she pleaded, "don't make me feel bad for kicking you out of your room."

He stood up and moved towards her, standing so that they were just inches apart and making Marissa believe that he was going to give in. Reaching up to cup her jaw, he leaned his face in and rested his forehead against hers. "A part of me would like to," he confessed, "but I can't. We can't," he elaborated, "because it's too soon for us to be that close again. We still have a lot of things to figure out, and it would be wrong of me to do anything with you before I know how I feel….about everything."

"You mean about me," she said quickly, blinking away her tears.

"Hey, don't be mad."

"I'm not," she went to argue, swallowing several times before she could continue. "I'm not mad at you, Ryan; I'm mad at me." Shaking her head to will away her emotions, she pressed. "I really won't try anything, I swear. I don't want to rush you or force you to make any decisions you're not ready to make yet. It's just….you have a king sized bed. It's ridiculous for you to sleep on the couch and be uncomfortable all night long. We can even put a line of pillows down the middle of the bed so that we don't touch at all during the night."

"First of all," he responded, "the couch is fine. I've slept out here three times already this week, because I always fall asleep watching Sportscenter, and, secondly, as for your pillow idea," he chuckled before continuing, "trust me, if we were in the same bed together, no pillow could stop me from touching you."

Before she could offer a response, he surprised her even further by leaning in and kissing her. At first the embrace was soft, exploratory, just a simple brushing of their lips, but, after the first, initial taste, Ryan intensified their contact, prying her mouth open with his tongue and kissing her deeply. When neither of them could last any longer without separating for air, he pulled away, but, as she moved towards him for a second coupling of their lips, he backed several steps away from her and held out a hand to stop her progression towards him.

"I…. um….we….," he murmured, unsure of what to should say, "I'm sorry. That shouldn't have happened. I didn't mean to; I just…."

"It's fine," she quickly reassured him, blushing and turning away quickly. Hurt but feeling as if she had no right to be, Marissa simply left him standing there and made her way towards him room, but, before she could enter, he was there by her side, opening the door for her, and talking.

"Let me get you something to sleep in."

"I'm alright, Ryan. You don't need to get me anything." As she pulled down the blankets and stepped out of her shoes, he merely stood there and watched her from the doorway, too afraid to come closer but, apparently, unable to leave as well. "I'll just sleep in my underwear."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah." Once the bed was ready, she went to remove her shirt, but he was still standing there. "Ryan?"

"Uh….what?"

Frustrated with his mixed singles, Marissa gave up and simply undressed, paying him no attention and just hoping that he would leave before her tears started. It only took her a moment to pull her shirt and jeans off, tossing them aside before slipping under the covers. Once she had the sheet pulled up around her shoulders, she unhooked her bra and tossed it aside, making sure, during the process, that Ryan wouldn't be able to see her topless. Although she didn't look at him, she could tell he remained standing there in the doorway. Eventually, after several minutes had passed, the lights were turned off, and he turned around to leave.

"Night."

Unable to say anything for she was too upset, she rolled over onto her opposite side, buried her face in the pillow, let the scent of her former lover wash over her senses, and cried herself to sleep. She had no idea what he wanted from her, no idea what he was thinking about them, and no idea how to ask him to talk to her. After all, he had a right to be uncommunicative, to give her mixed signals, and to be unsure of how he felt, but, despite wanting to give him all the time in the world to work through the secret she had kept from him for so many years, Marissa didn't know how long her heart would be able to stay in one piece before his constant push and pull tore it apart for good.