Chapter Fourteen: La Dolce Vita

Running my hands over my skirt, I closed the door to my car, stepping around the passenger side to open Casey's door. She stood, her hand sliding in mine to give me a reassuring squeeze. I had never met anyone's parents before – at least, not in the capacity in which I was meeting Novak's parents. I had met the politicians and the executives who had parented my exes, sure, but never with the thought of impressing them as their child's girlfriend. I had always aimed to impress politically or with my own management skills. Casey's parents were a very new kind of meeting for me. I only wanted them to think that I was good enough for their daughter.

"You'll be fine," Casey whispered in my ear. "I adore you. They will, too."

I smiled and gave her a nervous peck on the cheek. "Thank you," I murmured, reaching out and ringing the doorbell.

A few moments later, the door was opened by an older woman in her early sixties with red hair that was beginning to grey and a set of pale sea green eyes. I blinked a couple of times. "Casey!" the woman exclaimed, pulling her daughter, and Casey was most obviously this woman's child. "So glad you finally made it to dinner." Beaming, she grabbed me as well, hugging me tight against her. "You must be Alex."

Tentative, I hugged her back. "Yes. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Novak." I had never been hugged by my date's mother before. When Casey had told me about her coming out to her parents, she had mentioned that they had managed to come to terms with it despite their biblical beliefs. I had imagined that it was reluctant, that they were more standoffish with their gay daughter, but that was absolutely not the case. I could see in the elder Novak's eyes that Casey was loved one hundred percent by her mother.

"Come in, come in," she said, waving us both in. "The lasagna's almost done. And, please, Alex, call me Margaret. Tony, come on, Casey and Alex are here."

Anthony Novak was most definitely former military. He had a lean body, still muscular; his dark hair was close cut in the military fashion and he looked me over with these intense green eyes. I had initially thought that Casey's eyes had come from her mother, but looking at her father, I knew his were the dominant genes. I held out my hand, my gut instantly telling me that he was the stand offish parent. While standing there, I believed he loved his daughter, I could not tell if he was happy about her bringing home a woman or if he just blanket thought that no one was good enough for his daughter. If I were a parent, I would lean toward the latter – no one would be good enough for my child. "Pleasure, Mr. Novak," I said, holding out my hand.

He took it, his grip firm and strong. "Alexandra Cabot," he said, as if trying my name on my person. At that moment, I knew he had researched me. He had probably asked a military or DOD friend of his to look me up. "I've heard a lot about you."

"Good things, I hope," I quipped with a small smile. Diplomacy and tact. Diplomacy and tact.

"Some," he mused.

"Daddy," Casey whined.

At the same time, a scolding voice chided, "Tony."

He did not get defensive. Instead, he simply raised a brow, gave me a hard look, and then walked away. Something in the back of my head said I was supposed to follow him, and when I glanced at Casey, she nodded, gesturing for the same. So, I followed him into a small office den off the living room. It was not nearly as massive as my own adoptive father's had been. Still, it was well used and well cared for. And, like my father, he kept a customary bottle of scotch. He poured me a glass and himself a glass, gesturing for me to sit down. I did, glass curled in my fingers.

"You don't drink scotch," he asked me by way of statement.

I nodded. "I do," I answered. "Thank you."

"Why my daughter?" he asked, blunt and straight to the point. I understood the reason for the scotch. I might need it to help calm my nerves. But, I was determined to not let him break me. Fortunately, I had experience in this. Unfortunately, he had more experience breaking dates. He had other daughters.

Shrugging, I glanced back to the door. It was only habit. I was not looking to make sure we were alone, but I was looking, out of habit, for her to be there, smiling, so I could smile back. In the few days she had spent at my home, I had discovered her uncanny ability to just be there whenever I turned around, like a quiet ninja. "Why not her? You're asking me to quantify why I am attracted to Casey as if there might be something wrong with her. But, there's nothing. I couldn't tell you why I am attracted to her any more than I could tell you why I am not attracted to any other woman."

The patriarch raised his brow at me. "You're an attorney." Again, a question by way of statement, and I nodded. "What exactly do you do?"

"I am the Senior Assistant District Attorney supervising the Special Victims Unit," I answered, aware that if he understood Casey's role at the DA's office, then he would instantly understand that I was, technically, her supervisor. Bad things, but only if Jack found out. He nodded, and I could not tell if he understood what I had just told him or if he simply did not care. I figured it might be some combination of both.

"Casey said you spent the better part of last week with her in the hospital except when you had work." Again, I nodded. "Did she tell you about her illness?"

"She was reluctant to, at first," I admitted. "She thought it would drive me away. She was afraid I wouldn't even want to be her friend any longer because of it."

"Obviously, it didn't," he said. "What happens when she's too sick or sick too often for you to want to be with her anymore?"

I bit my lip. I was probably going to regret this, but I already hated the way he had addressed Casey's illness first. "With all due respect, sir, you sound like you're asking me how I feel about dating whatever T-cell deficiency syndrome Casey has, not how I feel about dating your daughter. Casey is a human being, no more and no less than anyone else. First and foremost, she deserves to be treated and loved in that manner. Second, she is my girlfriend. And, as such, she has my undivided attentions. I want to make her happy not just because she deserves to be happy but because it makes me happy to see her smiling. Our relationship will progress as it will because we are two people exploring such possibilities together. While her being sick may mean we spend a lot of time in the hospital or I have to wear a mask or I have to cook differently when I do cook for both of us, it does not change the fact that I fell for her. For her as a person. Yes, her medical needs will change how we approach certain situations, and I believe it initially changed how she approached a romantic relationship. Yes, it saddens me to think that it is more likely that she will die before me as opposed to the other way around despite that I am older. The fact remains, sir, that I am blessed enough to have your daughter in my life now. She is here with me now, and that is what I intend to focus on. Whatever that may mean."

"Hm," he grunted, leaning back in his seat. After a few thoughtful seconds of silence, he rocked the seat forward again and looked at me hard. "I have three other daughters, all married with children. From first boyfriend to husband, I have had a lot of men back here stumbling over my questions, trying to prove themselves worthy. Never have I had one of my daughters' dates tell me off, let alone with such a passionate argument. If you treat Casey the way you sell yourself, then you and I will never have any issues. If you'll defend Casey's humanity to her own father, then I have no doubt you'll defend her to the rest of the world."

I smiled, sinking back into the chair. It had been a put on. He had wanted to see how I reacted, and I apparently impressed him. That had not really been my aim. I had thought he was serious, and that had pissed me off. For the sake of our relationship, I was glad he was just a good actor.

"You really should drink more scotch," he teased.

Glancing down at the glass still in my hand, I noted mine was full and his empty. "Oh," I mused, tossing it back. I did not grimace. I was accustomed to alcohol.

He grinned. "That's better. Tell me about yourself. The real you, not the prosecutor or the politician."

For a good twenty minutes, we talked. Once he was satisfied with my answer about who I was, we talked sports. We talked politics. Casey and I were both liberal conservatives. I erred on the side of conservatism. She erred on the side of liberal. It had been one of the conflicts between us at first. Her father was all conservative, though, and I could only imagine that some of the things she had said and done to placate me in the office were things she had done to placate her father as well.

As we chatted, I realized we had a ton in common except that he was ex-military, and I had never joined. I had once thought about joining the Marines, something I had not told even Casey and I did not tell her father. If law school had not worked out for me, I would have. I was grateful law school worked out. Until Casey came along, my athleticism was nil, and from my understanding, Marines were incredibly in shape.

Truth be told, we would have continued talking except for a hesitant knock on the office door and Casey sliding in. She had that look on her face as if she were not sure whether or not to be terrified.

I gave her a reassuring smile, and held my arm up. She smiled back at me and sat on my lap. I inhaled the scent of her shampoo and body wash as she cuddled up against me. "Your dad was just telling me about how he talked you into going hang gliding."

She grinned at me. "We have to go sometime. You'll love it."

"Nope," I murmured knowing she would not be able to go because of her vision problems. "Not my cup of tea. I'll tell you what, though, we'll go down to the Yucatan and do one of those dolphin encounters, evening horseback rides, tour of the ruins, whatever vacations. As long as my feet stay on the ground where they belong."

Casey's eyes lit up like it was Christmas and she was ten years old. "Really?" she asked.

I chuckled. "Of course. We'll figure out the details later on."

She let out a soft, controlled squeal. We were both so different out of the office. Fire and ice in the court rooms, but a substance much softer and malleable when outside the eye of the law. Beyond her, I caught her father's eyes. Tony Novak rolled his eyes and mimicked sighing as he shook his head. I had the distinct feeling the military man was rarely so casual.

"Perhaps we should join your mother. She's going to wonder why no one is in the dining room to enjoy her fabulous cooking," the elder Novak said as he stood up from his desk. Casey rolled off my lap, standing as she moved.

Casey's father left the room first, giving me the opportunity to wrap my arms around her middle as she began to walk away. I spun her in my arms, meeting her with a kiss. I knew it was appreciated when her hands touched my cheeks, pulling me closer, her tongue flicking over my lips.

"My dad likes you," she murmured, resting her head against my shoulder as she slouched into me.

"Good," I said. "I need to set the standard very high for your next girlfriend."

She glanced up at me, frowning slightly. "What next girlfriend?" she asked.

I laughed. "Hey, you might get tired of me. You never know."

Playfully, Casey swatted at my arm. "I would never."

Smiling, I gently nudged her toward the door, following her out. "Project Impress Novak's Dad," I whispered in her ear, "Phase One Complete."

Casey chuckled softly, leading me into the kitchen.

"What's so funny?" her mother asked as she handed me a giant bowl of salad and two large forks.

"Nothing," Casey said, flushing. She always had a tell. There was no hiding it unless she was working. Then, there was nothing. It was both hilarious and adorable.

Margaret gave Casey a look indicating she knew it was a total lie. Casey only blushed harder. It was all I could do to keep from laughing as I escaped the kitchen into the dining room. Hurriedly, Casey followed behind me, setting out plates and silverware. "Usually, there's more people here," she joked.

"Yes, well, we thought the first time we met Alex, she shouldn't be bombarded by the entire clan," Casey's mother replied. "That would even scare me off. Sit, sit. Alex, do you pray?"

"Um." I hesitated. "I haven't for a very long time." I had been born into a Catholic family but adopted by an atheist one. Jenna, bless her, had been Protestant and had tried to foster my continued interest in the church, but I had not felt up to it.

"Would you like to?" Margaret asked.

Slowly, I nodded. "Sure," I said, taking up the customary position. Tony lead prayers, and I murmured my 'amen' as appropriate.

"When did you decide to stop praying?" Tony asked. Ever blunt, he was. I saw where Casey got it from.

I pressed my lips together, considering how much to say on my first trip to the Novak household. "I was five, and I was adopted. The family that adopted me was not Catholic." I felt my heart in the pit of my stomach, and I hoped that would be the end of the conversation.

"Hm," Tony grunted. "Reasonable."

"Well, if you ever decide to return to the church, we'd be more than happy to save a space in the pew," Margaret said, her voice cheerful and non-judgmental.

I smiled. "Thanks. Maybe." I tended to shy away from discussions surrounding religion. It was certainly not something that Casey and I had discussed at any great length. I knew how she wanted to be buried. She knew I wanted to be cremated. That was about the length of it.

Dinner conversation was surprisingly smooth. I imagined Casey had told her parents about me before we had arrived so that they could steer clear of topics she thought I might get a little heated over. There weren't many, but they existed. Her parents never asked either of us about work except to ask how we first met and how we decided to start dating. I think it surprised them to find that Casey and I met when she had accidentally charged someone with my murder without knowing I was actually dead. I did not go into detail about my time in Witness Protection. In part, I was not allowed to. In part, I did not want to revisit that time of my life. Fortunately, they did not press.

In fact, they were very easy going. I got the sense as we talked that Casey's father was disappointed that he had missed out on so much of Casey's childhood. With him being away for so long in the military, he had not had the opportunities to make as many memories with her as he would have liked. From their talks, it seemed like he had been able to make up for some of it once he retired, but Casey was an adult with her own responsibilities. It was not quite the same.

Even after dinner, though, things seemed so easy that we all chattered until Casey pled being tired and asked to go home. I sensed she did not want to. Having been regularly sick growing up, I imagined she had a closer connection to her parents than most children. She felt secure around them. I hoped she could feel even remotely secure around me. But, since she had spent the better part of the last hour at her parents' house laying across the couch, her head in my lap, arms around my waist, I had to think that, on some level, she trusted me implicitly.

Uncurling herself from me, Casey hugged her parents good night, promising to see them soon. I went to shake Margaret's hand, but she hugged me. To my surprise, Tony did, too. "Take care of her," he murmured in my ear before adding, for everyone else, "It was so good to meet you, Alex. You two drive safely. Next time, you'll have to meet Casey's siblings."

I smiled. "I look forward to it," I purred, wrapping my arm around Casey before guiding her out of the house and to the car.

Buckling herself in, Casey looked at me, a small smile planted on her lips. I could not help myself; I leaned over and kissed her chastely. "Yes?" I murmured.

"My dad has never taken to anyone any of my sisters brought home quite the way he took to you. I didn't ask earlier because I didn't want to be accused of complaining, but what did you say to him?" She tipped her head and gave me her innocent eyes. I had no idea if she knew she did it or not. A part of me wanted to say that she did not know she was doing it, and that made her all the more dangerous because it was inadvertent manipulation. But, then, I had seen those eyes a couple of times in court, and I was left wondering. All the same, she would win me over every time, hands down.

I shrugged. "He must just know that I am amazing," I said, feigning being conceited. I was vain, but I was not that bad. And, it worked. Casey giggled. "Seriously, though, I genuinely care for you, Casey, and I think he realized that. It's a lot easier to like your daughter's date, I would think, when her date truly cares for her wellbeing and happiness."

Casey smiled. "I knew you were a keeper," she said before she yawned.

Brushing her hair out of her eyes, I kissed her forehead. "Let's get you home, Firefly," I mused, pulling out of the driveway and onto the neighborhood street.

At my apartment, Casey cuddled up to me in my lap, her head resting on my shoulder as I played with her hair. For the most part, she was very nearly asleep, so I had said nothing for quite some time. I had just thought, replayed the night in my mind. Everything had gone well. I believed that her parents truly did like me and that they were not at odds with their daughter bringing home a woman. Margaret's stance on the assertion that her other children would like me as well was reassuring. I would not have minded if Casey's family did not like me so long as Casey did and I knew I was not hurting Casey, but to know that she had their support as well was incredible. Casey's father, though, Tony, was more at the forefront of my thoughts.

He had missed the opportunity to take care of Casey when she was a child. Like the rest of his children, she had grown up out of his reach. Such was the curse of a military parent. But, he loved her no less, and that was the mark of a good father. I could appreciate that. And, I thought, I could appreciate how difficult it must have been for him to tell me to take care of Casey. To entrust me as her warden would have to be a big step for any father. I thought about the few boyfriends I had taken home in my day and how my father had been with them.

"You're thinking awfully hard," Casey whispered, and I looked down at her, her green eyes staring up at me from her place on my shoulder.

"I didn't realize you were awake," I whispered back.

Casey shrugged. "I wasn't. But, then, I woke up and you had this strange look on your face, like you were contemplating the stars."

"Maybe I have good cause to try," I murmured into her hair before flashing her a soft smile. "But, now that you're awake, why not head to bed? That way, I don't have to try to carry you and you don't wake up with a large knot on your head."

Casey grinned at me. "You've carried me before."

"When?" I teased. Of course I had carried her before, several times in fact. She was not a heavy woman by any means and her frame was even lighter than I would have imagined. I had even carried her once after she had fallen asleep. Or, at least, she was feigning sleep. Her actual lack of consciousness was debatable.

She just smiled and kissed my neck. "Sleep with me tonight?" she asked. I bit my lip. I had been couch crashing which was fine by me. Most of the actual sleeping that had gone on while we were snuggled in bed had been with her asleep on me in the hospital. Despite the months we had been seeing each other and the fact that the 'L' word was being used regularly in conversation between us as if neither of us could quite wait to remind the other that being loved was about as spectacular as loving, we had not really slept together. Not at either of our apartments, anyway. I had figured that a hospital room was one thing, but a bedroom was another level of intimacy all together.

"Alright," I said after a moment of consideration.

Biting her lip, she looked at me. "Are you sure? You – you hesitated."

"I'm sure," I said, kissing her temple.

She looked at me, and it was that look like I was walking on the very cusp of her heart. I did not understand it, but that did not make the possibility of hurt any less real for her. "I can sleep on the couch tonight. I just – I feel safe when you hold me."

"Are you afraid tonight?" I asked, curious.

Shaking her head, she shrugged. "No. I just need you."

I pressed my lips together, watching her closely for some time. Finally, silently, I stood up. We had both changed into pajamas when we had gotten back to the apartment, so I felt no need to pause as I pulled her along with me to the bedroom, turning off the living room light as I went. Casey offered me a bare smile as she crawled between the covers and I crawled after her, turning off the light with the switch by the bed. I had been elated with the feature and chosen the spot for my bed based on the fact that I did not have to walk to bed in the dark. As a child, I had not been afraid of the dark so much as the things in the dark. Some fears really never leave, not even in adulthood.

Lying against Casey, I wrapped my arm around her middle and pulled her close into me. "I won't let anyone get you," I whispered, pressing my face into her neck. Her fingers curled around mine at her hip, and she drew my hand up to her lips. She didn't say anything, so neither did I, but I was more than familiar with the hot burn of tears, and they fell against my skin like fire. And, here, I had thought everything was going so well.