A/N: Hope you like it! :)


I turned the key and thrust open the door. All the familiar smells of home rushed up to greet me like an abandoned puppy desperate for love and attention. It had been months since I had stepped across the threshold of my Connecticut home, but at the same time, it felt as if nothing had changed. The layout of my house was so familiar to me I could have walked through it blindfolded without ever bumping into a single wall or piece of furniture. The familiarity lightened the load on my heart.

As it so happened, I was locked in an internal battle, as I had been ever since Chris and I had bonded in front of his mother's grave. It hurt me to know he had felt like such an outcast after his accident, and I didn't want to contribute to that by keeping him a secret year after year. My father needed to know about Chris. About us. And the way I saw it, there was no time quite like the present.

The floorboards creaked as Chris followed behind me, and he shut the front door to stop the cool air from filtering inside. I shoved my hands into my jeans pockets and spun around in a slow circle, marveling at the place I had spent so many years of my life, all alone. At the time, it hadn't upset me to be by myself, but now, I was a bit sorrowful about it. The past decade and a half felt wasted, like a span of time I should have spent with someone special. Someone like Chris.

I tucked some hair behind my ear and mulled over my options. Chris and I were on our way to Haines City to enjoy our vacation at the rental property we had booked, and passing through Connecticut was a simple detour that was all a part of a larger plan. I had wanted to check on my home, and I appreciated that Chris had obliged without putting up a fight. Now that we were in town, though, decision time had fallen upon us.

Either we could leave my house and journey ahead to Florida as if nothing else mattered, or I could bring Chris to headquarters with me and introduce him to my father not as Chris Jericho, but as Chris Irvine: My boyfriend. The whole ride from the airport, I had swatted the idea back and forth in my head like it were a tennis ball and my brain a racket. I'm sure Chris sensed that something was up, because each time I got too terribly lost in thought, I'd be pulled back to reality by his hand rubbing my leg or my arm.

When our eyes would meet, he would gaze at me all full of unspoken questions and I'd pretend not to notice their presences. Chris found the silence unsettling and busted through like a pit bull through a plywood fence. "You've missed this place, haven't you? Oh, what am I saying? How could you not? I mean, this was the first place you ever bought for yourself once you got out on your own after college. We should come down here more often to check on it."

"I want to tell Dad about us," I rushed out.

Believe me, I was as shocked as Chris when the words left me in such a fluid rush. The odd thing was I hadn't even intended to speak them aloud. It was like they had played in my mind for so many minutes that they decided to voice themselves, whether I had other plans or not. I was glad it was out there, in the open air, for Chris and me to process together. I faced him while we stood at the bottom of my stairs, but he had frozen like a Popsicle.

Then it happened. It began with a slight twitch at the far corners of his mouth, then his lips relaxed until, finally, he was smiling with all the brilliance of a thousand suns. Never before had I witnessed Chris in such a happy state. I wasn't even aware he had the physical capabilities to beam like that, his blue eyes sparkling and alive as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, kind of in the same way a person did when they had to pee really badly and were trying to hold in their urine. Then he rushed over, picked me up in his arms, and spun me around while cackling like a maniac.

I closed my eyes to keep from growing dizzy, and I held steadfastly to Chris's shoulders. He lowered me back to the floor soon after, and I opened my eyes again, jumping a little when I found that his face was a mere inch or two from mine. He met me the rest of the way and kissed me so hard my lips ached, but I still smiled into the smooch and stroked the back of his hair, right near his neckline while he held me in his arms. We pulled apart and he went back to watching me, but this time his eyes were bubbling over with a tangible type of love that I could literally see and feel from him.

"I'm gonna marry you. I swear, I don't care what it takes, you will be my wife one day," Chris declared. He reached for my cheek and started stroking it with his thumb while I giggled at his enthusiasm. "I'm serious, babe. It doesn't matter if other people are happy about us or not, because we're happy about us, and that's all that counts. It's awesome that you're finally telling Vince. What made you decide on it?"

Of course, I knew the answer to his question, because I had considered it during the entire plane ride to Connecticut. I decided to share a little of my insight with him. "When I think about telling my dad we're together, it sort of makes me want to cry, because I've always been so close to him, and I feel like telling him I'm with you is going to cause a separation. He'll still call me and check in on me, I'm sure, but I know we won't be as close as we normally are, because he won't agree with my decision. His reasons are silly, but they're still there, and I can't change his mind in one day. It will probably take some time, but eventually, I see him warming up to you. I really do."

"So why tell him?" Chris asked, then quickly amended, "I mean, not that I don't want you to, but I'm just wondering, what made you decide now is the right time?"

"Well, at first I talked myself out of it, because confronting my dad and telling him this is going to upset both of us, for entirely different reasons, but still. But then, I imagined not telling him and the rift it would put in my relationship with you, and I don't want that, either. I couldn't handle it if we broke up again. That first time when...things went down...and we were apart, I cried so much. I was sad, I was closed off, and I feel like all I did was wallow in my despair," I shared. Chris clutched my waist and rubbed my left hip bone. "It was devastating for me to fall in love with you the way I did and then have you ripped away from me over something so trivial, and I won't let it happen again. I love you too much."

"I know I can't ever make it up to you, but I'm so sorry I wasn't there, Steph, in the aftermath of it all," Chris said, ducking his head down. "I don't even deserve you."

"Stop," I murmured. "It doesn't get us anywhere to dish up the past. All I'm saying is that every part of my body hurt when I was without you, and I couldn't think about anything back then except figuring out a way for us to be together again. I got what I wanted when I moved to Winnipeg with you, but if I want to keep this amazing life we've built, that means I have to tell my dad about us. I just do; there's no other way around it."

"So you're telling him so that we won't break up again?"

"Exactly," I nodded. I shifted on my feet and looked at the floor. "And also because I think people should know about us. I'm not ashamed of you, but you're starting to feel like I am, and I can't have you believing that. It's just not true."

"I don't feel that way all the time," Chris said. He scratched behind his right ear and averted his gaze when I looked back up. "Only when you won't even mention me in conversation while you're talking to Vince. It's just weird, like, seeing you talk on the phone with him in my house, where you're living and sleeping and everything else, but you won't say a single word about me while you talk to him. I'm not trying to be a dick about this, but seriously, how would it make you feel if you invited me to live here with you and I came, but every time I called back home to talk with my dad, I didn't bring you up in conversation even once? How would you like it if I did that to you?"

"I wouldn't. That's why I want to tell Dad."

"Good. You should."

"But our rental in Florida is — "

"The rental can wait. I don't care about a damn vacation house. I care about you," Chris interrupted. "I booked the rental and it's ours for the next 10 days, so whether we get there sooner or later won't affect anything. Either way, they're getting paid. You take as much time here as you need. If we need to extend our vacation once we get down there, I can check into that, but this comes first. Our lives always come first."

I ran my hands down my pants and my stomach grumbled, almost right on cue. I had eaten on the plane, but only snack foods. Fruit, cheese, and the like. Nothing that was going to hold me over for any significant amount of time. "I'm hungry."

"Weird."

"Why?" I asked, my features twisting and contorting in confusion.

"Because you usually don't have an appetite when you're nervous, and this whole decision to tell your dad has to have you on edge."

"Not really."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, because right after I finish telling him, I get to leave and go on vacation with the man I love, and that's good enough for me, no matter what the outcome of this whole thing is. I told you already, I have what I wanted," I said. "I prayed for you, and I got you."

Chris gathered me up and we stood kissing in the foyer until I lost track of all space and time.

My throat was so dry it hurt to swallow. I made a mental note to grab a bottle of cold water before I went in to see my dad, because my terrible case of cottonmouth would only get worse as the minutes ticked by. In front of my office, I stood with a single tear lingering in my right eye, blurring my vision as I ran my fingertips over the name on the plaque fastened to my office door: Stephanie McMahon. Those sixteen letters were so much more than a name.

They captured who I was as a person. My surname said it all. It told people right on sight about all the qualities I undoubtedly possessed as Vince McMahon's daughter. I was bold, bright, courageous, spontaneous, fearless, wily, cunning, charming, masterful, and maybe even a little timid to boot. But only in private, where nobody could see me. I stormed through the hallways of Titan Tower and people automatically knew who I was, from the higher-ups to the interns. They all knew what I was about, and maybe I loved holding that power over people.

I suppose I enjoyed being part of a business where my intentions were known, where my talents were spoken for without my having to say a single word. Titan Tower was the first place I had ever held a job, the first building in which I had been given my very own office, and even the first place I had kissed a boy, but that's another story for another day. Yes, I've told Chris the story about my first kiss, and he thinks it's hilarious how the whole thing panned out, but now I'm getting a wee bit off track, so back to the topic at hand. This place, Titan Tower, was my home away from home and now that I was back, I wanted to reclaim it.

I glanced left, then right, noting that I was the only soul in that entire passageway. Chris had made the smart decision to wait for me back at my place, knowing it wasn't exactly safe for him being in the same building as my dad once I dropped the latest bit of news on him. In my balled up right hand, I clutched a set of work keys that gave me access to just about every room in the building, and I singled out the most important one of all, sliding it into the lock. I turned it slowly, agonizingly so, and wound the knob.

The door creaked open and I stepped inside, a fresh and powdery smell there to greet me. I smiled at the second plaque on my desk that bore my name, closing the door softly behind me. My potted plant was still in the corner, and clearly, someone had been watering it, because it was still alive. Soft sunlight trickled in through the open blinds at the window behind my desk, which I was sure someone had opened so that my plant could get some much needed rays. I wondered who dad had been sending in to look after my office, because clearly, I hadn't been the last person there.

Walking along the front edge of my desk, I ran my finger across the wood and brought it right up to eye level to inspect it. Not a single speck of dust in sight. All was neat and tidy, just as I had left it. From the various writing instruments residing in a ceramic cup, to the papers and files I had been working on last, to the desktop computer I primarily worked from. All was well in Office McMahon, and I was proud that my dad had cared enough to make sure it was still there waiting for me, itching for my big return.

My swivel chair creaked when I sat in it, and I imagined the sound was its own little greeting to me, asking where I had been and begging me not to leave again. That was likely a whole lot of projection on my part, because I was the one who never wanted to leave. It was like I had been bitten by the work bug all over again, and this time, it wouldn't be so easy for me to walk away. I loved Chris dearly, but I also loved my old life, and I was missing it beyond measure. To think, all it had taken was a visit to Titan Tower for me to realize all of this.

I didn't belong in Winnipeg, applying to random jobs in random salons. I was Stephanie McMahon, and my place was in Stamford, working in the family business. I pondered how to break it to Chris, how to make him understand that I needed to move back home, but my entire thought process was breached when I heard movement in the hallway. Voices. I popped out of my chair and rushed across the room, pressing my ear to the closed door. My office in general was built in a pretty noise-canceling manner, to where I didn't get a whole lot of background noise filtering in. But if I wanted to hear out badly enough, I could.

The voices were deep and male, but neither belonged to my father, whom I had assumed it might be. They were two execs whose identities I couldn't pinpoint, so I stepped away from my door and let them pass. I should mention that I didn't want to attract a whole lot of attention to myself. I had had to check in downstairs at the front desk, so word that I had arrived would travel fast, and I wanted to get in and out before people had a chance to stop me and ask questions. Questions were the enemy, because then I would be forced to provide answers I wasn't ready to give.

As much as it pained me to leave so prematurely, I brought my right hand to my lips and kissed my fingertips, pressing them into the top of my desk. Speaking aloud, I left with a single promise. "I'll be back soon."

And then I was gone, scurrying down the passage and rounding more than one corner until I came to Dad's office. I could feel his commanding presence even through the door. I knew he was back there, and he would be happy to see me, until I told him everything I had to say. Then, he might pick me up and launch me out of an open window, but at least he would finally know the truth. And Chris and I wouldn't have to live in fear anymore of his finding out. He would know, and we would be free.

Free at last.

I knocked, Dad answered, I entered, we hugged. It was joyous, really, and I don't say that sarcastically. Dad and I had always been very attached, ever since I was a little girl. We had the classic father/daughter relationship that every girl dreams of having — the kind where she can do absolutely no wrong in the eyes of her father. Even the way Dad looked at me was filled with such love and pride. It reminded me of the way Chris had looked at me when I had first told him I was going to see my dad.

I've always known how lucky I was, and still am, to have two men in my life who love me so dearly. Some people don't even find one person who loves them, so I realize I'm blessed. Dad sat me down and offered me coffee, which only served to make me realize I had forgotten, in my haste, to grab a water bottle from the break room, but it was fine. Coffee would do, and besides, I was in need of a little caffeine boost anyway. I was left alone while Dad slipped out, and he brought back two paper cups filled with the hot beverage, his black and mine with a little sugar and cream.

"It's so good to see you back here," Dad said. Tapping his desk with his finger, he said, "This is where you belong."

"That's the same thing I thought when I first walked into my office this morning. I didn't realize how much I missed it until I came back," I said. I took a sipped, stalled for a few seconds, then asked, "Who's been cleaning in there? It's so spotless."

Dad raised his brow comically. "You expected to return to a big mess?"

"Not a big mess, no, but I thought my poor plant might be dead and that it might be a little dusty and run down in there. I didn't know you would have it cleaned every day."

"I have every office in this building cleaned by a crew that comes in overnight. You know that."

"Yeah, but I didn't think they would bother with my office anymore, considering I'm not even using it."

"That has no bearing on them doing their jobs," Dad answered. He looked at me sideways and shook his head, wearing a crooked smile. He sipped from his coffee and smacked his lips a few times as he frowned at the liquid, this time shaking his head in disgust. "I don't know who made this pot, but it's garbage. Not strong enough."

"I can make a new one," I offered.

"No, I'll call for someone," he said, holding out a halting hand. "You stay here and let me look at you. You're even more beautiful than I remembered."

"Yeah, well I take after you, Daddy," I said in my most charming tone, raising my shoulders as I fluttered my eyelids at him.

We both laughed and he extended his hand once more, prompting me to hold it. He rubbed my fingers with his thumb and watched me over the rim of his cup as he continued drinking the same coffee he had just complained about. I gulped, and he saw it. He actually noticed the sharp movement of my throat, stopped in mid-drink, and lowered his cup while his eyes narrowed to slits. Now here's the thing about my dad. I can sneak anything past him when we talk on the phone, play it all up the way I see fit, but when we're face-to-face, he sees right through any and all facades.

In a nutshell, I was screwed. But there was a silver lining to my rain cloud, and that was the fact that I could no longer change my mind or chicken out on what I was doing. Now, he knew something was up, and I would have to tell him about Chris. If I made a false confession, Dad would know it, and he wouldn't let me leave until I came out with the truth. We were still holding hands, and he squeezed mine as he placed his cup down, scooting his chair all the way up to the desk. He leaned over the glazed wood and stared into my soul, or so it seemed.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing's wrong."

"You came here today. What for?"

"Under normal circumstances, I'd probably tell you I just came for a visit, but you and I both know that's not true, so I'll just cut to the chase," I said, licking my lips. I didn't know how he would react, but it wouldn't be pretty, and I was already internally plotting my escape plan as I spoke. If need be, I could even pull the fire alarm to distract Dad long enough for me to slip by and wait his anger out. Now that's a legitimate thought that crossed my mind that day in his office, but obviously, it was only tongue-in-cheek. Kind of. "For the past few months, I haven't been at home. I haven't been staying here in Connecticut like I told you I was."

"Where have you been?"

"Canada, actually."

"Canada?" Dad asked. He crooked his neck and wrinkled his nose, then his face cleared of all emotion and he shrugged. "Well, I guess it's a nice enough place for a visit. Just clearing your mind up there, were you?"

"And searching for answers to life's questions, and finding myself," I added. "All of the above, I guess."

"So what happened in Canada?"

"Nothing happened there," I said. "I was just up there living my life. It's what happened before I went to Canada that I need to come clean about. I would have told you sooner, but, Dad, you just overreact sometimes, and I didn't want to deal with you lashing out at me for something that, really, in the scheme of things, isn't bad at all. You'll think it is, but it's not."

"Why don't you leave that for me to decide?" Although Dad expressed this in question form, he meant it as a statement. I nodded and suckled on my bottom lip while I gathered the last bit of my courage. The easiest way to do this would be getting to the point fast. The more I shied away from the truth, the harder it would be to come out with it.

"I moved to Canada to be with my current boyfriend, and that's why I had to take the leave from work. This guy and I started dating, then we broke up for a while, then we got back together again after I ended things with Mikey. This person — the man I'm dating now — is actually the reason Mikey and I broke up. I wanted to be with this other guy instead, and he lives up in Canada and invited me to stay with him, so I moved up there right after Mikey and I ended. I've been in Winnipeg ever since," I admitted. Instantly, Dad's eyes contracted and gleamed like a snake's, and he may as well have flicked his tongue like one, because he was ready to strike. Winnipeg hit one of his nerves, rung a bell. Everyone knew Chris was from Winnipeg. Chris Jericho, that is.

"Who's in Winnipeg?" Dad demanded. He put it all together before I even told him, which he admitted to me later on, but he needed confirmation. The second I had mentioned Winnipeg he knew, but I spoke the answer into the great wide open and left no room for doubt.

"Chris Jericho. Chris Irvine, actually," I stressed. "He's my boyfriend."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm not. I love him, Dad. He treats me well and we're happy together."

"What's really going on?"

Dad wanted a different answer. The one I had given was as genuine as could be, and he knew it, but he wanted to rewrite history, so he thought questioning me over and over again would be the answer to that. It only strengthened my resolve. "That is what's going on, Dad. I'm dating Chris, and we've been living together, which is working out really well. It's tough to go from living by yourself to suddenly being in someone else's space, but we get along great and I think we go together. We fit each other, I mean, our personalities and stuff."

"You expect me to believe that?" Dad scoffed. He released my hand and skidded back in his chair, his chest heaving as he looked at me with wild eyes. He was frantic now, knowing that he was losing control. In actuality, he had lost control of me long ago. "Tell me the truth for once."

"I am."

"No, what you're doing is coming in here and trying to rile me up for no apparent reason."

"I can call him and have him come in here to see you if you don't believe me," I said. "He's at my house right now because I didn't think it was a good idea for him to come in here. I didn't want you picking a fight with him, but if you need me to call and get him here so you can see for yourself what the truth is, I can do that."

"Sure you can," Dad shot back. He was one step away from losing it on me, I could tell. His cheeks were red, sweat beads were popping up on his face, and he was breathing like he had just run a marathon. Soon, this would be ugly. I went back to plotting my exit strategy in my head, but before I could complete the full circle and make a decision on how I would leave, Dad interrupted me. "Are you trying to embarrass me, huh? Is that what you want, Stephanie? To make fools out of this entire family?"

"No. All I want is to have a life with someone who makes me happy."

"He doesn't make you happy. He's not even a real man," Dad griped. He had risen from his chair and was pacing now, maniacally stalking from one end of the room to the other. It was uncomfortable to watch. "He's a spectacle."

"I don't see how you can be as smart as you are and not realize how stupid it is to judge a person based on the way they look. He was burned in a terrible accident, and yes, he has scars. What does that have to do with the type of person he is? What does it have to do with the way he treats me?" I demanded. "You're acting ridiculous, Dad!"

Dad stopped walking and turned to me, jabbing out a stern finger. "Don't you speak to me that way in my own office!"

I held my hands up in a peace offering. "I didn't come here to fight with you. I came so I could at least give you enough respect to tell you the truth in person. You don't want to hear it, and that's fine. I expected as much, but I think in time, you'll come to see that it really doesn't matter how Chris looks. It's all about how he treats me, and he makes me feel like a queen every day of the week. I would hope that you would be happy for me, but if you can't be, then maybe this isn't the right place for me. It's such a shame, though, because while I was in my office, I realized how much I miss this place, and I was thinking of coming back, but..."

Realization washed over Dad's face. A wicked smile shone through with such brilliance I actually quivered in my chair. He scared me when he was like this. Dad crept to his desk and placed his palms on top, leaning over so that he was hovering above me. He needed to be dominant in a situation he knew he was losing his say in. "You're using him to make me angry. You're upset with me because I didn't try harder to get you to stay. What, you want a more prestigious job title or a higher salary? Maybe both? I haven't given you what you want, and so you're with Chris because you knew it would piss me off. So tell me, what is it you want?"

"To be happy with my boyfriend and to have you accept it and allow me to come back to work. That would be my 'perfect world' scenario," I replied.

"You want to come back to work? Fine. Come back."

Now was my turn to narrow my eyes. "It's that simple?"

"Yes, why not? You want to come back to work, come back."

"And…?" I asked waving my hand. Dad waved his back at me.

"And...what?"

"What's the catch, Dad? Where are you going with this?"

"Nowhere. You asked to come back and I said you could."

"And if I ever want to bring Chris backstage with me to a show, or if I want him to visit me in my office, he's allowed to?"

"You can have any guest you like. Surely you don't believe I can stop you."

"I'm dating Chris Jericho," I repeated, drilling my point home. I felt like he was glossing over the facts, and it didn't sit well with me, so I thought I would say it one more time for clarity. Just to make sure he knew.

"Yes, you've stated that already."

"Okay, so...you're fine with it?"

"Yes, sure, fine," Dad shrugged.

"Okay, and if I want to come back to work, how soon can I start?"

"Whenever you want to start, honey. Call and let me know," Dad said. He paused and took a breath, then backed away from the desk again, rubbing his hands together to warm them, I suppose. "I hate to cut this short, but I've got meetings. I can meet with you later or, like I said, you can call when you're ready. Sound good?"

"Okay, but — "

"Good."

Dad cut me off by rounding the desk and kissing my hair. He grabbed his briefcase from the side of the desk and even tossed in a special wink for me before leaving the room. Having known him for all my life, I recognized that this wasn't natural cheer. He believed every word I had said, and he was playing nice because he was up to something, whether that was to try and break Chris and me up, or worse.

I shuddered and grabbed my phone after Dad's office door swung closed behind him. I called Chris and he answered right away. Not only was he probably bored all alone in my house, but he would certainly be worried about what was happening. I imagined the suspense was killing him. Chris spoke in a merely mild panic.

"Hey, you okay? How'd it go?"

"Weird," I answered. "Really, really weird."

"How do you mean?" Chris asked.

"He was super calm and didn't seem to care. I talked to him about maybe working here again sometime soon, and he said I could have my job back whenever I wanted. I asked if you would be allowed to come see me at the office or on the road whenever you wanted to, and he said yes. It's just all very awkward and weird, because he was so upbeat about it," I said. "I don't trust him, and that's sad to say because he's my dad, but I just feel like he's up to something."

"Yeah, he probably is, but as long as he didn't upset you, I'm cool with it. I had already decided that if he made you cry, I was going to drive down there and kick his ass."

"No, it was fine, but just, like I said, weird," I finished. Scratching the front of my head, I peeked out through the open blinds and asked, "Would you be upset if I came back to work here?"

"How could I be? It's your family's company, and I don't expect you to stay away forever."

"But what if it means moving back to Connecticut? We've talked about this a little bit, but I'm wondering if you've changed your mind. Would you come with me or would you stay in Winnipeg? Like as a long-distance type of relationship?"

Chris said something next that I'll never forget. Not for as long as I live. "Steph, wherever you are is where I want to be. If you need to move back here to do your job, I'll move here, too. I'm just glad it went okay. You're not upset, which is the opposite of what I was expecting, so yeah, I'm happy with the outcome. Are you?"

"Yeah, I guess so," I said. "I would be a lot happier if he weren't being so sneaky about the whole thing, but, I don't know, whatever. I'll worry about it later."

"Right, because we still have a killer vacation to get to. Let's not forget about that. This is a small detour inside of a huge, exciting trip. Come home, baby."

"Okay, I will."

"And bring hot food, for fuck's sake."

"Chris!" I gasped, falling into a laughing spell.

He joined me until we were both all laughed out. He had a point. We both had fairly empty stomachs and would need to eat before we caught our next flight out. Then, I had an idea. Dad had the corporate jet, and if it wasn't in use, he might let Chris and me use it. It would allow us to skip the airport crowds and be able to fly peacefully, all by our lonesome. I would have to wait until Dad's meeting ended in order to ask him, but then again, I could call him from home and ask later. I told Chris, and he loved the idea.

"Definitely ask him," Chris urged. "It doesn't hurt to try."

"Okay, well I'm coming, then. Where do you want food from?"

"Just like Burger King or something."

"Chris," I sighed, "this is Stamford, and I live in Greenwich. Do you know how many exquisite restaurants there are here? I can get us a really good meal, and actually, I can come pick you up and take you out somewhere fancy." I was interrupted by a groan. "What? You don't want to come out with me?"

"Not that. I just want you all to myself. Just bring something and we'll eat it here together and watch some TV until you can ask your dad about the jet. If he says yes, I'll cancel our flights."

"Okay, I'm on my way, then. See you soon."

"You will," Chris promised. "And, hey, I'm really proud of you for today, for following through with it."

"Yeah, of course. It needed to be done."

"Sure did. Love you."

"Love you squared."

"Bye, honey."

"Bye," I said, hanging up the phone. It's an insignificant detail, really, but I still remember what I picked up and brought home for us to chow on, our typically healthy diet falling by the wayside yet again.

Two 20-piece chicken nuggets with barbecue sauces, two orders of French Fries, and two soft drinks. It was technically the start of our vacation, though, which meant we could splurge along the way, right?

Right.