Thanksgiving break ended, which means it's time to go back to work. On one hand, it gets me away from having too much free time, but on the other hand, it also means that I have to face Lourdes about what is pretty much undeniable at this point. Negan and I are churning butter. I'm not gonna lie, I got a little smashed last night at the thought of it, so that's why Jolyon and I were running late this morning.

I jump a little at the tapping on my window. I sigh when I see Negan standing outside my car. Quite frankly, the last person I want to see right now. He taps again when I don't roll down the window.

"I don't want to let the heat out!" I shout at him through the window.

Negan rolls his eyes and walks off. I pick up the other half of an egg and cheese sandwich I hastily made this morning before heading out. Before I can take a bite, the passenger's side of the car abruptly opens and I nearly drop the sandwich onto my lap.

"What the fuck?"

"I was gonna ask the same thing," Negan gets in and shuts the door, "But I can fucking smell the goddamn gin on your breath."

"Get out!" I gripe, opening up my center console to rummage for some mints. "I don't need anyone to see us together."

"Lourdes?"

"Get out of my car."

"The car's facing away from the school. No one can see us."

"Well, I...I don't think we should hang out as much at work anymore."

"Hang out?" He laughs huskily, "You mean fucking in my office?"

I roll my eyes. "Don't be so mild...but yes."

"Why?"

"Because I-"

"Does this have anything to do with Lourdes?"

"You already asked me that."

"You didn't answer me."

I scoff. "You let some of the heat out of the car."

"Pippa," Negan sternly looks at me, "Come on."

"...I went over to her house the other night for dinner and everything was going swell, until you called me. She saw your name on the caller i.d."

"How the fuck is that my fault?" He huffs, fiddling with the door handle. "I didn't know you were at... Wait, is that why you called me?"

I chuckle at him. "You wanted to meet up, because your wife was driving to D.C. That's why I called!"

"Yeah, Friday morning, knowing fully fuckin' well that you can't call me at home." Negan gives me an incredulous look. "Was that a revenge call?"

I huff, shaking my head. "Do you really think I'd called you at home, where your wife could possibly catch you, simply because you accidentally called me at Lourdes' house?"

"Yes, I fucking do."

I laugh, "Well, you were right on money."

Negan laughs as well. "You fucking asshole."

"Did she suspect anything?" I ask with a more serious, somewhat shameful tone.

"Nah," He waves his hand, "She was making breakfast in the kitchen."

First bell rings and even from the parking lot I cringe at the sound. "I guess we better go."

"Afraid your gal pal is gonna give you the cold shoulder?"

I don't answer him, I just get out of my Jeep and wait for him to do the same, so I can lock the door. Time to face the fucking day. And Lourdes.

...

The morning goes by at a snail's pace and I feel miserable, both because I'm still a little hung over and because I haven't seen Lourdes all day. At lunch, I muster up the courage to go to her classroom to talk with her. Negan's words get to me as I go down the hall. What if she doesn't want to be my friend anymore? That'll suck. I really like Lourdes and I don't have any other friends aside from her. When I get to her room, I peek inside to see her eating lunch at her desk. I knock gently on the glass window, before cautiously opening the door.

"Hi," I meekly smile.

"Hey." She replies, stiffly.

"Can I come in?"

Lourdes nods her head. "Sure."

I close the door behind me. "Whatcha eatin'?"

"Leftover tortellini." She drably answers.

"Sounds good," I clasp my hands together, "I only had time to make Jolyon's lunch today. We were running late, so I was gonna drive down to the taco truck with- by myself."

"Oh," Lourdes nods again, "That place is pretty good."

"Yeah." I bite the corner of my lip. I can't believe I almost dropped his name. "So, how was your Thanksgiving?"

"My parents told me that I wasn't invited over to their house again, until I left Simon. So, I guess I'll be saving money on Christmas presents this year."

"Yikes, I'm sorry to hear that."

She shrugs her shoulder, stirring her fork around her Tupperware. "I'm sure my mom will call me soon. How was your Thanksgiving?"

"I got tipsy and my sister sent me to bed before dessert."

She breaks out a little laugh. "Damn."

I softly chuckle, before I clear my throat again. "Um, are we okay?"

Lourdes looks up from her food at me. "Sure, why wouldn't we be?"

"Because I know you saw that it was Negan who was calling me," I lean on the a desk across from hers, "Lourdes, I-"

"It's fine."

I sigh, heavily. "Lourdes, I didn't mean for you to-"

"To find out?" She arches her brow.

I wring my hands. "Yeah."

"So, you and him are having sex?"

"...Yes. It just sort of happened."

Lourdes' tongue glides across her teeth behind her lips. "Okay."

"Are you mad at me?"

She glances back down at her lunch and shakes her head. "No."

"I understand if you are," I tell her, "I know that you and him had history and that-"

"It's fine, Pippa," Lourdes scoffs, "It's not like I have any claim to him."

"You're not going to yell at me? Tell me that what I'm doing is stupid?"

"It's none of my business," She responds, "You're an adult; you can make your own decisions. And plus, I'd be the pot calling the kettle black."

"Okay." I say, shamefully.

"But," Lourdes gives me a square in the eye, firm look, "I will tell you this; he's not the man you think he is."

"I think he's an asshole." I dryly joke.

"I mean that it's fun now, but just wait," She takes a bite of her food.

I want to explain to her that I'm not the slightest bit the fool for his "charms", or even remotely interested in him beyond causal adultery, but I don't. I just nod my head.

"I'm warned," I simply exhale, "Are we still friends?"

"Yeah," Lourdes snickers derisively, "Birds of a feather, right?"

I chuckle, slightly uneasy. "Sure."

...

"Gran, look what I got!" Jolyon runs over to her with a glossy postcard in his hand.

"Oh, wow! What have you got there?" Mom picks him up.

"My dad sent me mail!" Jolyon gives it to her to see.

Jolyon loves getting mail. I don't know why it's so exciting to him, but he fucking loves it. He even likes getting those reminder cards in the mail when he's due for a shot at the doctor's.

"This is really cool, baby!" Mom smiles at him, after she read the back.

"Mom let me put it on the fridge." Jolyon wiggles free and runs back to the kitchen to put it back up with a magnet.

Mom looks over at me. "That was nice of him."

"He didn't call," I snottily retort, buttoning up my Lorelei's uniform, "A call would've been better than a stupid card."

"But Jol likes getting mail," She smiles, "He probably figured it'd be more special."

"It's late," I argue back, "A Thanksgiving postcard seems a little less special when it's two weeks late."

"Don't be like that. It probably got lost in the mail."

"Sure," I huff, "Alright, so I'll be by as soon as I get off."

"Okay, have a good night at work."

"Yep."

Lorelei's is empty, as it always is this time of night. I don't care, though. I didn't come here to wait on tables. I agreed to take Mindy's shift, because I knew Dwight stops by here almost every Friday night when he gets in from a delivery, so he won't wake Sherry up in the kitchen at home. I told him I was working and he said he'd show up. It's currently one a.m. and I'm eating the pecan pie out of the pan, waiting for Dwight.

I can't help but think back to earlier, when my Mom came over to pick Jolyon up. I know she, along with everyone else who knows, thinks what I did was wrong back in Texas. But no one's ever really had it in them to give me a piece of their mind about the subject and I prefer it that way. I don't need any fucking lip from anyone. I had my reasons, which in retrospect were shitty and disingenuous, but still have some validity.

His truck pulls into the parking lot about twenty after, so I check the back to see if Louis is snoozing. He is. I get up from the barstool and sneak out of the diner; careful not to let the bell at the top of the door jingle. Dwight's breath can be seen as he breathes into the cold air.

"Hey." I shiver, cursing myself for not bringing my jacket.

"Hi," He rubs his hands together, "It's cold."

"Yeah," I huskily chuckle, "Um, do you wanna sit in my car?"

Dwight looks back at his truck with a camper shell. "We could go to mine."

"Okay, sure." I grin and wait until he awkwardly sets the pace to the truck.

"Do you wanna sit in the back, or the front?"

"The back," I reply, "I mean, unless you want to sit up front."

"No, the back's good," He opens the back up and glances at me, "You first."

"Thanks." I uncouthly climb into the back of his truck and turn myself around to sit on the hard floor of the hatchback.

Dwight gets in and closes both parts. He then turns to me and I suddenly feel as bashful as he looks.

I look over at the diner through the small side window. "Are you gonna eat before you leave?" God, if I were with Negan instead of Dwight, I know what his quick-witted answer would be.

"What's so funny?"

I return my gaze to him. "Oh, um, nothing. I was thinking about something...stupid."

"Oh." He nods, sliding his legs out from under him.

"So, are you gonna stay for some coffee and two a.m. breakfast?"

Dwight thinks for a minute. "I don't know. Probably not."

"Okay." I breathe. I notice a thin flannel blanket neatly rolled across from me.

"You can use it, if you want," Dwight tells me after following my eyes, "Seeing as it's colder than shit in here."

"Yeah, I thought it'd be warmer, too."

His finger taps faintly on his left knee, as if he's thinking of what to do, or say next. "Um, how's your kid?"

"He's good," I reply, "He got some mail yesterday, so he's telling the whole town about it."

Dwight smiles a bit. "Who from?"

I glimpse down at the goose bumps on my legs and reach for the blanket. "His dad."

"Oh," He pauses for a second, "Is that a good thing?"

"Yeah, yeah," I inspect the pattern of the blanket as I unroll it, "Jolyon loves getting mail and he hasn't heard from him in awhile so..."

"Is it always that way? Not hearing from him for awhile?"

I aloofly shrug. "Sometimes. More so lately."

"Does he...pay child support?"

"No."

Dwight scoffs low. "Is that why he gave up his parental rights? So he wouldn't have to?"

I shake my head. "No, he's offered to give me money, I just haven't accepted it."

His eyes meet mine, puzzled. "Why not?"

"I don't need it," I murmur with stubborn pride, "I do just fine on my own."

He nods. "Well, then if he wants contact with Jolyon and has offered to give you money, then why did he-"

"You know, I don't really want to talk about it, Dwight," I exhale, frustrated.

"Why'd you bring up then?"

"I didn't, you did."

"No, I didn't." He claims.

"Yes," I insist, "You did."

"No, I asked how your son was and you told me he got a postcard from his dad."

"And then you proceeded to ask questions."

Dwight goes to argue, but stops himself when he realizes I'm right. "Okay, whatever."

I look out the window again. "Do you wanna have sex now?"

He sighs through his nose and then nods. "Yeah."

I get up and crawl closer to him. Dwight shifts my way and soon we're face to face in the dark with only the lit parking lot outside to give us some sight of each other. We both hesitate, staring, examining one another. I gently lean forward and kiss him, which he returns, softly at first, but then as our lips keep on with each other, he becomes more fervent. I can hear it in his breathing.

I push back a little, so that I can straddle him. My uniform rides up my thighs and I can feel Dwight's hands trail up my legs, finding the end of the dress and sliding his hands under. I start to unbutton my uniform down to my navel, until Dwight finishes the rest. He peels back the polyester dress and one of his hands fishes into his jacket pocket. I put my mouth on his again and move down his neck when he attempts to remove his jacket.

"Do you need me to get off?" I ask after I notice his struggling.

"Uh, yeah." He tosses he jacket to the side.

I fumblingly back off of him, waiting for him to take his shirt and shoes off. I get the blanket and hold to my chest, since it's fucking cold back here. Dwight gets up and leans my way, kissing me again, so I recline backwards. He hotly peppers my thighs with kisses, trailing up to my hip, my stomach, breasts, neck, and finally my mouth. I softly move my hand against his skin, down below the belt, causing a groan from him.

Dwight tries to continue kissing me, but he halts after my massaging proves effective. He sits up and unwraps the condom from his jacket. I note the tattoos under his arms, or at least try to, until he hovers over me. He brings my leg up and our bellies touch as we resume making out. His hand reaches down to position himself and a moment later I gasp at the pleasing feel of him inside me.

His kisses become softer and what I thought would be hot and heavy is more tender and mild. I gently tuck some hair behind his ear, so I can palm his face more delicately. Dwight goes slowly, easing in and out, which I have no problems with. I like this pace. It allows me to take him in and remind myself who he is to me. His eyes meet mine and he kisses me. It's like a tidal wave crashing over me. I know I still love him. Undoubtedly and pathetically, I do. His touch makes it clear that I've never loved anyone like I've loved Dwight and, in all likelihood, never will.

My body shutters under him and I cry out in soft, yet potent ecstasy. "Oh, Dwight," I faintly sigh.

He moans against my flesh and he stills, cursing under his breath, "Fuck."

I caress the back of his head, planting a sentimental kiss on his cheek. D pecks my lips, before sitting back up. Despite exchanging body heat, the cold of December still lingers in the back of his truck. I take the blanket and drag it across me. He rolls to the side, pulling some of the blanket over him.

"You sure I can't get you coffee and a menu?"

Dwight chuckles. "I'm good, thanks."

I smile, rolling over to my side. "Can I ask you something?"

"Yeah, sure."

"I..." I think about the consequences that could befall me for asking a question I might not want the answer to, "Uh...never mind."

He furrows his brows a little. "Are you sure?"

"Definitely," I answer, looking at the slightly foggy windows, "We should probably let some air in."

"In a minute." His fingers reach under the blanket and traipse my skin.

"I love you."

Dwight smiles and kisses me. I instantly feel humiliated by his usual response and I can't help but to express it. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing." I lie.

"I can tell when you're lying," He snickers, "You were always really bad at pretending like you're not bothered, which apparently hasn't changed."

I look over, trying not to seem like I'm pouting. "Are you ashamed of what we're doing?"

D's smile dies out and he look at the roof. "We shouldn't be doing this."

"Then why are we?"

"Because..." He exhales, sitting up on his hands, "Because ever since you got back, all I think about is you."

I sit myself up as well to see his face. "What?"

Dwight opens up the window of the camper shell and letting in the cold. "I don't know, I didn't think it'd affect me this badly," He pulls out his cigarettes and lighter, "But when I'm on the road, my head keeps finding you and then I start to remember things from before you left."

He offers me a cigarette and I accept it as well as the flame he extends. "What sort of things?"

"Like the time you made a cake from scratch for my eighteenth birthday," Dwight's smile slowly returns, "I can still remember how dry it was."

I laugh, taking a drag from my cigarette. "You ate it anyway."

"It wasn't bad, just hard to swallow."

"Did you do anything for your thirty-second birthday?"

He blows smoke out of the window. "Just what we do every year. Dinner and cake and..." He side glances me.

"Sex?"

Dwight swallows and puts his cigarette up to his mouth. "Yeah."

"How spontaneous." I dryly say.

"Sorry we don't live on the edge like you." He scoffs.

I exhale smoke. "I have a kid. The only thing I'm on the edge of is making chicken soup for when flu season hits the daycare."

"Fun."

"It kind of is," I faintly remark, "I mean, I hate when he gets sick. I feel so terrible for him, but I also like it when he wants me to hold him and sway him in my arms." I glance back to Dwight. "If he's anything like me, then it won't be long before he won't want me to coddle him anymore."

"That's not such a bad thing," Dwight replies.

"No, I guess not."

"That was one of the first things I liked about you."

"Really?"

He nods his head, examining the cigarette between his fingers. "Yeah, I remember when we were in the second grade and we had to pair up for that field trip to the zoo."

"That's when we became friends." I smile warmly at the memory.

"Yeah," He agrees, "We knew each other since kindergarten, but I guess we never clicked until then."

"Mhm, yeah."

Dwight smiles at me. "You walked right up to me and asked if I wanted to sit with you on the bus."

"I remember," I snicker, "I think you were a little shocked about being asked so forwardly."

"I was shocked because a girl asked me to be her partner." He chuckles.

I laugh. "You said yes, though."

"Yeah, and you just said 'cool' and offered me your hand."

"That was a good day." I drag from my cigarette.

Dwight nods. "I was afraid to go into the nocturnal house, because it was dark and you took my hand and told me it was the only way I was gonna get to see the bats." He flicks his cigarette out of the truck. "You lead me in, no fear. Well, until that owl turned his head our way and you squeezed my hand."

"And Sherry said you had a shitty memory." I cackle, taking one last inhale from my cigarette.

D's eyes lower, as he reaches for his shirt. "I do."

"That seemed like a vivid description of something that happened twenty-four years ago to me." I pull on my uniform and start to button down.

"Yeah, well, I can't seem to hold onto things that I should," He clears his throat, "Now, anyway."

I pause on a button and look up at him. I think I understand what he means by that and I don't know if I should be glad, or really saddened by it. I rake a hand through my hair. "Oh."

"Um, Sherry's gonna probably call you next week to see if you want to come over."

"Okay," I nod my head and then think about it, before glancing back at him, "Is that okay?"

"Why wouldn't it be?" Dwight fiddles to get his pants back on.

I shrug my shoulder. "Because we're sleeping together, Dwight."

He fixes his belt. "Then tell her you can't make it."

"Do you want me to?"

"I don't care what you do."

I sigh through my nose, irritably. "Then, I guess if she calls, I'll tell her I'd be happy to come over for dinner."

"Fine, great."

"Cool."

Dwight runs his hand down his face. "I guess I should go home."

"Yep," I itch my nose, "I guess I...am going to go finish off that pecan pie." He chuckles at that. "Shut up."

"I wasn't laughing at you."

"Then what are you laughing at?"

He opens the door. "Nothing."

I look him over and nudge him on the shoulder. "Well, then wipe that smirk off your face."

Dwight laughs more buoyantly. "It's fucking cold out."

"Sure is." I hop out of the back of his truck and that's when I realized I never took my sneakers off.

He gets out of the back as well, shrugging on his jacket. "Maybe I should get some coffee for the road."

I turn my head towards him. "Need a menu, too?"

"Nah, just coffee."

"Okay," I nod, "If you want, I can bring it out to you."

"No, I'll walk with you."

"Alright."

So, the two of us walk into the diner together, nonchalantly. Louis is awakened by the bell and peers out of the kitchen window, somewhat confused. I mildly smile at him as I walk behind the counter to the coffee pot.

"Shit," I curse, "The coffee's cold. It's been sitting here awhile." I look over my shoulder at Dwight. "It'll take about ten minutes for a fresh pot."

"I can wait ten minutes." He shrugs, having a seat at the counter.

I set the coffee up to brew and walk over to where he's sitting. He smiles, appearing casual, as he lightly spins the sugar container. In the background, Sam Cooke's "You're Always On My Mind" is crooning out of the jukebox. I think I'll take Jolyon for donuts in the morning, instead of pancakes.

Hope y'all enjoy this week's chapter! I know it's a little short, but got swamped with school and work this week and had very little time to do anything else. Yay for The Walking Dead coming back Sunday!

CLTex: You're right, Lourdes would have been hypocritical to scold Pippa, which is why I didn't have her flat out yell at her. But her warning to Pip is valid...