Disclaimer: I own nothing.
I am so sorry for the delay. I hope everybody's great and smiling. I know I've missed writing for you angels. Again, sorry for the delay.
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Silence rang out in the dining room, Deanna's eyes to glued to her plate, Reg had left to chase after his youngest, and Spencer released another soft sigh. Carol wasn't sure what to say or how to get pass this moment. She knew they had no expectations from her, so when she rose from her seat and departed from the room, no one really protested.
She hovered in the hall between the kitchen and the living room, seeing the front door ajar, and she exhaled, leaning against the wall and inhaling deeply. She hadn't expected this when she was invited to dinner. She didn't know what she'd feel or think or want from this. She only agreed for their sake, after all. Their sake...
Spencer took the space in front of her and offered her a weak yet brotherly smile, which she returned, an odd feeling settling in her chest as this sisterly smile was normally aimed at Caesar. He tilted his head to the side, and she noticed he was quiet...dashing, perhaps was the word. Like a male Cinderella, desperate to cling to hope that he could will things better and smile through the cruelty life had to offer. At least one of them could stagger on.
"Well, it's awkward as all hell," he announced brightly, almost as if he expected this outcome. "I doubt you're hungry, so let me take you out."
"Take me out?" She arched a brow, amused by him.
"Yes. I know a bar not to far from here with decent music and people. It has... Well, an atmosphere—not a great one, so don't get your hopes up—but it has atmosphere." She laughed now and ducked her head. "Least I can do since our pissy brother stormed out. We can catch up, and there's booze involved."
She opened her mouth to object when he pushed off the wall and nudged her arm. She continued to dissuade him, "I'm not much of a drinker, to be honest."
"Well, you may have a different last name, but you are a Monroe, and we're drinkers." He smirked. "First one's on me, and if you hate the company and the slight atmosphere, I'll bring you back and we can part ways and never talk about it again, all right?" He searched her eyes. "Just...give it a chance."
She had heard me instead of it, seeing the concern of an older brother in his eyes. He wanted to know what had become of his little sister over the years. He wanted to know about her time on the streets, her ups and downs, her likes and dislikes, what made her tick, what made her who she was. He wanted to hear all about her and her new life. He wanted all the gory details she wasn't sure she could part with. There were far too many to discuss in one evening alone, and to be honest retreating to the safety of her hotel room was so tempting. Twenty steps to the left and it was over. Twenty steps.
But there was a glint in his eyes that begged her to take those twenty steps with him, to tell her about her prom night, about her graduations and her first "love". She knew it couldn't be avoided, not without hurting him—hurting them—more than she already had. Aiden had thrown down, but Carol had pushed him to that point with her icy mask. She couldn't simply walk out and have that be it, could she? They wouldn't let her. This nagging ache in her chest wouldn't let her, and for the life of her she couldn't figure out why.
She had a mother. She had a brother. She had a sister-in-law and a niece. She had a daughter. She had all of the things she needed in life, and she was content. She didn't long to enlarge her family. She couldn't stand to try and mesh her two worlds together. They were like water and oil, and it made her dizzy to try and picture Caesar and Spencer laughing at stupid jokes over a bowl of eggnog while Andrea and Deanna looked over pictures of Carol as a girl. She couldn't see Reg starting a fire while her little girl begging to lend him a hand, and she didn't see Aiden grasping Mika up in his arms and laughing with her as he pestered her to make a snowman out in the yard. She didn't see herself wrapped in a blanket with Keira, sipping hot coco and watching old Christmas reruns and laughing at their favorite parts, the room aglow with the lights, the tree, the gifts, the many scents of the holiday surrounding them.
Yet so easily didn't shifted to couldn't—wouldn't—refused to. She had her family slots filled up and others blackened out. She kept people at a distance to protect them and herself. If she allowed herself to let the Monroes enter and be in her life, she was opening herself up to the love and affection and joy that they could surely bring, to the flood of stories and jokes from a life she didn't recall. They would welcome her daughter in with open arms and perhaps even Daryl, definitely Mika, her brother, his wife and children. The more the merrier, she suspected. They wanted her life now to blend with theirs, and she knew it might work. It might be bumpy and awkward with a few fights between her and Aiden tossed here and there, but it might work out. Laughs, smiles, good memories, a home away from home. Somewhere to send Sophia during the summers, somewhere to head on Christmas and Thanksgivings that wasn't Andrea's or Gloria's, wasn't take-out.
On the other hand it might be an unmitigated disaster. If the truth behind her refusal to drink alcohol became known, it might open a world of regret and self-destruction and self-loathing, as her kidnapping had. If they saw the sorrow in her eyes when discussing her life as a kid, they might discover the truth behind her childhood, behind Karen, and the route would be the same. They would blame themselves and wish to save her from a past which scarred her to the core but she loved. She was the woman she was today because of her childhood, and she didn't want them to wish it away or blame themselves for the tragedies she and her family had faced. They shaped her, made her stronger, better, and yes, she would love to undo a lot of horrors, but certain things—certain people—wouldn't exist without those horrors, and she would never wish them away. She couldn't bear to. And because of that, they'd fight. Not intentionally, not to hurt her or their newly formed relationship, but it would happen. Someone who step too far, and it would truly be the end. She couldn't bear for that to happen. To lose her to time was an accident, but to lose her due to an unchecked comment? They may not recover from that at all. They scarcely recovered from her kidnapping.
She searched those deep, pleading brown orbs that reflected his failure as a big brother to protect his little sister, that told her he wanted a relationship, wanted to be friends at least. They told her all of the things Caesar's eyes told her, only each items was filled to the brim with pain and panic. She didn't have to agree to anything. She was a grown woman, and she had no reason to stay, to accept his offer, to be kind. That was likely what he was thinking right now. Her thoughts weren't so easily deciphered, but she knew if she let things end here, after Aiden's outbursts, after her coldness, she wouldn't forgive herself. She was raised to have manners, and with this knot in her chest the size of the moon and growing, she knew she couldn't protect herself from this part of her past. She honestly wasn't so sure she wanted to after tonight. Maybe exposing a little piece of herself to someone who still, after all this time, viewed himself as her big brother wasn't the end of the world.
"It's on me," Carol replied. "It's the least I can do."
"You don't have—"
"I do." She offered him a smile for cutting him off and stepped toward the living room. "Who's driving?"
"I am." He swiped his keys from the table by the door and let her to his car with a hopeful smile curled to the left of his mouth.
The bar with the slight atmosphere wasn't too terrible. It reminded Carol of one she occupied during the two worst and blurry years of her life. The music wasn't too bad as Spencer had aforementioned, it smelled better than the one she used to drown in, and the lightening was an improvement. That and the company might save this evening from being...well, awkward was putting it lightly. She only had Aiden—and herself—to blame. Oh, and that pesky thirty-some gap and her kidnapper. She had that fucker to blame too.
Spencer had let her buy the first drink surprisingly, and he picked a booth in the back for them to settled down to talk in. Carol hadn't pegged him as a whiskey man, but she barely knew the guy seated across from her. Her detective instinct was off tonight, hopefully only for tonight. She couldn't afford for her judgment to waver, nor could she linger on her preference. It was easier that way.
Carol rested her hands on the table and searched his eyes. "So...how's...life?"
He chuckled and kept the smile that came with it. "It's been...one hell of a ride."
"Oh, yeah?"
He nodded and dug out his wallet, flicking through it and finding what he was looking for. He freed it from its protective plastic cover and held it out to her. Grasping it, she discovered it was a picture. "That's my little girl," he answered. "She's a bit bigger now. Twelve years old and a handful." He ran a hand through his loose curls and chuckled. "I can barely keep up."
"She's beautiful." Carol could see Spencer shining in the girl's eyes and smile and cheeks, proudly showing off the puppy in her arms. She looked happy and grateful, and Carol could sense he was an overprotective, worrywart of a father but a damn good one. She handed the picture back to him.
"She wasn't intentional," he confessed, sliding the picture back. "I didn't want kids, not after..."
Carol nodded, assuring him he didn't have to finish that sentence for her to know.
"But...she happened, and it was the worst and best news of my life." Sorrow shimmered in his eyes, and Carol noted he didn't have a wedding ring on. "Her mom...died in childbirth. We weren't married, but we'd been together...forever. We never talked about it, even after we found out we were having a child. We just didn't consider it."
"I'm so sorry." She grasped his hand.
"It's been twelve years," he remarked. "I miss her, but I see glimpses of her in Leslie all the time. I tell her, and her eyes light up like she's won the jackpot." He chuckled in memory. "She likes Ali a lot, especially since Ali doesn't try to replace her mom. She's content to play second fiddle in that department."
"Ali?" Carol cocked her head to the side as he downed the last of his whiskey.
"My fiancée," he replied. "Sorry. I forgot to mention her."
"Wow, I can barely make a commitment to a coffee brand, and you have a fiancée?" He chuckled again. "She must make you happy," Carol commented, seeing the earlier sorrow gone without a trace. "Good for you."
"Thank you." He cleared his throat. "Not a fan of whiskey?"
She smiled thinly. "Not really."
"What would you like then?"
"I'm fine for now." She leaned back in the booth. "I have a daughter too."
"I heard. Mom couldn't stop...gushing about it," he told her. "She's always wanted tons of grandchildren, and Aiden isn't with anybody, and Ali and I...have an uh, an agreement, so... Well, she's happy to hear she'll have more than one grandchild to boast about."
Carol nodded. "Sophia's ten. Er, I don't have any pictures of her. I left my purse back at the hotel, and I don't think I've ever touched the camera on my phone."
"I'm not a fan of pictures either. Leslie loves to take...uh, selfies. Ali encourages her and even joins in, but not me." He shook his head and helped himself to her glass of whiskey. "I bet she looks just like you."
"I think she favors both me and her father," Carol argued, her tone light and friendly, a gentle correction. "She...grew up with him mostly, and they mirror each other." A ghost of a smile played on her lips in memory, peeking in on them once when she visited Daryl in the hospital.
"You weren't in her life?"
"It's...complicated."
Seeing she didn't want to linger on it, he decided to come back to it later, and he rushed off to order another drink for them. She couldn't even argue that she didn't want a drink, he was already at the bar. She knew it was going to be rough. She never liked to spend time in bars. After that last night with Daryl, Carol swore to only enter a bar if an investigation call for it. Typically Caesar would go in alone and relay the information for her, especially in the beginning. She wasn't able to resist, but Caesar had been a rock. He had stood by her through it and curbed her urges by piling on leads and paperwork and rehashing all of Andrea's nagging that Carol needed to get her ass over for dinner and to spend time with her. He could have been laying it on thick, but it didn't matter now. It worked, got her head out of the gutter and back where it needed to be.
If only he were now, she swallowed hard, her eyes falling the amber liquid on the rocks an inch above her right hand. She knew exactly what he'd ordered for her this time, and his guess was right this time. Mostly. She went back and forth, on the rocks, neat, but the drink remained the same. And there it was within her grasp, the angle of the lights above causing the damn liquid to practically glow, and a familiar, long-buried—or so she'd thought—tremble began to spread through her.
– – –
Daryl had spent the day lunching arrows at Axel and Abe, Rosita had used her laptop to dodge the one he tried to hurl at her, earning only a slight glare from the target and amused chuckle from Sophia. He apologized after she threatened to snap the plastic arrow in half, and she handed him his lunch. It was healthy and a sight better than what the hospital had given him. Well, he did like the Jell-O, which was occasionally swamped with pudding. If he woke up before someone tried to swipe it, that was. Asshole. He was injured and wiped from PT, and they were gonna steal his food? Assholes.
"Heard from Mom?" Daryl causally inquired as he worked on the meal before him.
Sophia shook her head and lifted her eyes from book in her lap. "She's busy. I get it. Uncle C told me about what she was doing, and...I hope she's okay."
His brows shot up. "Uncle C?"
Sophia flushed. "Well, what else am I supposed to call him? He is my uncle. Sorta."
"Didn't know you two were so close is all."
She pressed her lips together. "No, we're not really close. He's nice and funny, and he hangs out with us sometimes. I like his daughter a lot. I know her better than I know him, but I noticed he likes when I call him Uncle C." Her eyes revealed there was more behind the nickname.
"Sophia, you okay?" He studied her. "Is—is...he all right?"
"No. He isn't all right at all." She met her dad's eyes. "Sometimes when we're playing, I'll take a break and see him sitting on the couch or looking out the window, and his eyes...are kinda hollow. Like he's thinking about someone he lost, and it's killing him. I dunno if that's it, but I think he's struggling with something. I noticed, though, that he smiles, genuinely smiles, when I call him Uncle C, so I do."
He smiled at her. "Got your mom's instinct, you know that?"
"I do?" Her eyes lit up for only a second before she narrowed them. "How would you know?"
"I just know."
She shook her head and murmured something he couldn't make out, turning the page to the book she was obsessed with.
"What are you lookin' at?" He reached over and lifted it to see the name only to find it was a photo album. "I didn't know you brought any of these from home. Let me see." He saw his daughter pale before his eyes. "Sophia?"
She swallowed hard and hugged it to her chest. "Don't be mad."
"I wasn't gonna be till you said that. Why shouldn't I be mad?"
She lowered her gaze and handed it over. "It's Carol's."
"Carol's?" He moved the tray aside and set the book in his lap. "You went through her belongings?"
"I wanted to unpack her room," she hastily explained. "I thought I was helping, and I came across a couple of these. I thought...maybe I'd catch a glimpse of him, but I dunno any of those people. They're all dead, and I wanted to know why she had these pictures." She opened her mouth to continue, but his frown only deepened, and she dropped her eyes again. "I'm sorry."
"It ain't me you need to apologize too," he corrected. "You don't go through her things, Sophia. I know you wanna know her better"—so did he—"but this isn't the way to do that. Unpacking was a nice thought, but leave it to her."
"She hasn't even called," Sophia whispered, "why would she talk to me about anything?"
"Sophia—"
"She keeps me at a distance." She raised her eyes, a sheen of tears in them. "I've always wanted to know my mom, and now that she's in my life...it's like there's never time. She's too busy with work or personal matters she won't tell me about. I only found out about Sam, because of the trial! And I only found out about pictures in her locket of me and my brother, 'cause you talk in your sleep!"
"I don't talk in my sleep."
"When they pump you full of drugs, you do," she retorted.
"That ain't the point. Sophia, Carol loves you. She loves you so much, and in a way that can't be explained. You're...everything to her, and when she gets back, it'll be different. I promise it will be. She has a lot to work through, sweetheart. I know it's rough, but it'll be better."
"When?" She searched his eyes. "I know...she has to heal and all of that, but...I've waited ten years for my mom, Dad. Now I know who she is, and...she's out of town for I don't know how long, and it's not fair. It's selfish, 'cause I know what's wrong, but I just want my mom. To know her and...catch up." Tears prickled up in her eyes again. "Does that make me a terrible person?"
"No." He set a hand on top of her head. "It doesn't make you a terrible person. I get wantin' your parents around, to just love you and be with you. I do. I can't summon Carol back or fix her problems so she'll hang around, but I know once she's back, you'll be sick of her she'll be around so much."
"That's not possible," she muttered.
"C'mere." He patted the spot beside him, and she climbed onto the bed. He wrapped his arm around his daughter and squeezed her shoulder. "She has shit to sort through, Sophia. Once it's done, it's done. It'll be you and her till I get outta here then it'll be the three of us."
"Four," she corrected. "Mika."
"Fine, the four of us," he smirked. "We'll be a real family."
"A real family," she repeated. "Even though you're not married to each other?"
"Me, you and Merle were a real family," he told her.
"Well, yeah, but Merle isn't my mom," she challenged. "Carol is, and I've seen the way you look at her, Dad."
"How do I look at her?"
"Like Uncle Merle looks at good whiskey," she joked, and he nudged her side as they shared a laugh. "But seriously, why do you look at her like that?"
"I didn't know I looked at her like anything," he confessed.
"Well, you do, and it's confusing." She made a face that was similar to the one Carol had made when she stumbled out into the hall the first time they met. Well, the third time. "Rosita says not to get my hopes up, but then you look at Mom like you do, and...I think maybe I won't have to go from your apartment to her loft every other week or weekend."
He ran his fingers over her hair. "I dunno know about that, kid."
"Did you ever love her?"
He blinked. "Where's this comin' from?"
"Well, Rosita says when two people love each other deeply, they get married and sometimes have kids. Not all couples have kids, but..." Trailing off, she pulled her legs to her chest and hugged them. "But you and Mom had me."
"Rosita says a lot, don't she?" he bitterly uttered, knowing Sophia didn't hear him. He needed to have a talk to her. From the sound of it, she was putting ideas in her head. Ideas she warned him against yet turned around and spewed to Sophia, getting her hopes up. He didn't know what he and Carol were, let alone if they were going to wind up married. Christ. What the hell was Rosita thinking?
"Do you love her? Did you ever?"
"It was complicated between us," he answered. "We weren't together before or after we had you."
"So, you didn't love her." Her lips pursed to the side then she nodded in understanding.
"It wasn't that I didn't love her," he said, not liking the way she was looking at him. She didn't understand at all. "I couldn't afford to. You know what our lives were like, what you went through just a few months ago, and I didn't want Carol to live her life through that. It wasn't till later I even knew she was pregnant with you. I chose to take you in."
"Well, why me and not Mom? Why not both of us?"
"Because Carol's a cop first," he replied. "Wasn't gonna make her pick between me and her morals. I...liked her too much to even consider the possibility of us. I let her go...and was rewarded with you nine months later." He ended with a small smile, only find Sophia grinning at him. "What?"
"You liked her?"
He watched his tone as he spoke, not trusting what she'd take away from it. "Yeah, I liked Carol when we first met. What wasn't to like? You can see she's beautiful, brilliant, a good person with good instincts. She's a good mom too. You'll find that out yourself." He picked up his cup to get a drink of water. "Just be careful before you bring a date home." She would either be normal and happy, or find out everything about them and their parents and their parents' parents the second she got the name. Lucky for the kid though, Merle was in jail so they didn't have to endure the hell Merle had been planning since Sophia wrapped him around her little finger her third day at home. Christ, that kid was screwed.
"You think she's beautiful?"
"It's obvious," he continued. "And it don't mean anything."
"Pretty doesn't mean anything," she retorted. "Beautiful does."
"Says who? Rosita?"
She shook her head. "Uncle Merle did. He said when he calls me beautiful, it's because he means it and because he loves me."
"Huh." A lot of things made sense now. He'd never really heard Merle say I love you to anybody, not even Sophia really. He did call her beautiful, every night he tucked her in or passed by her room. He made it a code for I love you? What the hell? He couldn't just tell her? It wasn't like anybody would judge him. Hell, only he and Rosita were in the house that late. Most of the time Rosita was practically had an caffeine IV just to stay awake to finish up her work, and she had to make notes to remember important details. She didn't bother with them, only to toss a good night to Sophia, and most of the time she did it with a wave. Why did Merle have to be so weird with his affection? Christ. Well, he wasn't one to talk, but at least he told Sophia he loved her with the actual words. Odd that Merle couldn't say that. Not that he judged him. He was sure Merle had his reasons. He'd given up a lot, not surprising that was on the list.
"Still doesn't mean I love her."
She huffed and crossed her arms. "So, I was an accident then?"
"A good one."
"How was I an accident?" She turned to him. "I mean, how did you and Mom even—?"
Alarms went off in his head, and he held his hand up. "Talk to your mom about that. I can't answer that question."
She slid off the bed. "Fine. I'm gonna go call her." She stopped in the doorway when she caught a hint of sorrow in her dad's eyes. "It's okay if you don't get together. We're a real family no matter who I stay with. I just want you guys to be happy, and if you could be happy together...well, that'd be great, but it doesn't matter. You're my dad, and she's my mom, and that's good enough for me. Besides I get a little sister either way."
He chuckled as she ran off to find Rosita to borrow her phone. He wondered how bored these girls were to keep pestering him about feelings he may or may not have. He did feel something for her, that was evident. Be it love or attraction, he couldn't say. Back then he knew it was attraction, knew it could have been more than that were they different people, but they weren't. And it was no longer "back then". He would talk to her when she got back. Until then he wasn't going to linger on it. If he did, he would remember that first meeting. Her beautiful yet sly grin, that twinkle in her eye, why not?, when their lips met and they somehow decided to go back to her place. He could still remember the scent of her perfume. Or soap. He wasn't sure what it was, but it made his skin tingle in memory. Heh, that was one hell of a...whatever it was.
––
Caesar opened the door, Keira bolted inside, dropping her backpack on the floor as she went, and he'd normally reprimand her and have her pick it up. Today he was too tired. He set it on the armchair and noticed Andrea wasn't in her normal spot on the couch. Normally after he dropped Keira off, she was curled up on the couch with a case file or working on her favorite book with a cup of tea. It was her day off, he was positive. Not that the woman knew the meaning of "day off". She was just as bad as Carol, always tinkering on a case or calling a client or consulting a colleague. He'd asked her to take it easy, but that was like trying to make water not be wet.
He loosened his tie and climbed the stairs, heading to the room at the end of the hall that normally served as a guest bedroom. It was now the nursery for their unborn child. He told Andrea to let him handle it—painting it, assembling the furniture, adjusting the many, many stuffed animals Andrea had bought just this past week due to cuteness. If she didn't stop, the entire room would be a collection of stuffed rhinos and elephants and owls and whatever creatures she'd brought, and there'd be no room for the actual baby.
Sure enough Andrea stood in the middle of the room in a long-sleeved shirt stained with paint, a pair of old jeans he didn't knew she owned. Huh, they weren't new, that was obvious. They were...nice. Fitting, the way they hung on her hips...
"Either you have bad news you can't tell me about," Andrea spoke without turning around, "or...you're staring at my ass." She turned to peek at him over her shoulder, smirking at him.
"Well, it's a lovely sight to stare at—er, all of it." He closed the space between them and grasped her hips. "What are you doing?"
"Thinking."
"Mmm, thinking, right."
"What's with that tone? I am thinking."
"Andrea, I didn't make detective on my good looks," he teased. "Besides you left the closet door ajar, I can see the box."
She sighed and leaned against him. "I just want a head start. You know I hate to leave things to the last minute."
"Says the woman I have to practically force feed."
"That was before. When I get distracted, I forget to eat, forget I'm even hungry."
"That makes me have to stay up till two or three in the morning, making sure you've eaten."
"And I appreciate that." She turned her head to nuzzle her face against his neck. "I just want to set it up soon, okay?"
"Okay." He held her closer. "Remember when you stayed up till four in the morning trying to to set up Keira's crib?"
"I insisted on doing it myself for about two more hours then...I gave in and let you help." She chuckled. "And we still needed your mother to help with the damn thing."
"She still won't let us live that down. Just last night she called and said she was available from six to eight if we needed help with the crib."
"That's good, but I've got it covered."
"Meaning?" Andrea was by no means helpless with building things and tools, but she wasn't the best at it. Neither was he, to be honest. He knew cars and guns and a few other basic things he'd picked up from both Dale and Shane. So he wondered who in hell was coming to help her, and given her pause, he knew who that person was. "Please, tell me this is a joke."
"Will that make you feel better?"
He groaned and released her. "When does he get here?"
"Tonight." She faced her husband. "Amy too. They ought to be here by ten."
"Amy? Well, that's good. At least she likes me."
"Dad likes you," she argued. "He just..."
"Hates me?" he offered.
"No."
"Andrea, I heard him over the phone when word got out that you had been kidnapped—that our daughter had been kidnapped. He isn't exactly my biggest fan right now, not that he ever was, but especially now. God, he's gonna kill me." He rubbed the back of his neck.
"He's not angry at you," she stated. "Dad was just angry in general. Can you really blame him? I'm his daughter, and you know how much he loves Keira, his granddaughter. He doesn't blame you. He never did. Only you blame yourself."
"I don't blame myself."
"Yes, you do. Don't lie. You don't lie well to my face."
"Fine. Maybe I do, but if I did, I'll take it up with my therapist. She wants to explore that too." He shook his head. "Next week oughta be fun."
She closed the space between them and wrapped her arms around his waist, lacing her fingers together at the small of his back. "Caesar, it'll be a rough week regardless, and don't worry about Dad. He's only here for a few days to help set up the crib and visit with us. Amy's here for three days, but it's partly a business trip, so we won't see much of her."
"Is your mom coming too?" he groused. Her mother didn't hassle him, simply had to know everything about their lives right down to what type of vitamins they took in the morning, if any. She actually checked his blood pressure last time she visited them. His blood pressure.
"Not this time. She's swamped at work, so she's decided to wait until after I have the baby." She searched his eyes. "Don't be so grouchy. Mom's sending cookies, and I made sure she made your favorite."
"Really?" He arched a brow. "Why cookies?"
"Because she wants the baby to come out all cute and fat." He sucked air in through his teeth, and Andrea nodded. "And Dad has to report whether I ate them or not. She...wants to get the head start she never had with Keira, so the next nine months are going to be pure hell."
He laughed and pressed a kiss to her lips. "Don't worry. Keira and I will help with the cookies. I can talk Mika and Sophia into eating some too."
"Good, because I heard there were dozens."
"Definitely bringing in the kids." He pursed his lips. "I bet Judy and Carl would like some."
"I bet so too." He waggled his eyebrows, and she laughed, pulling away from him. "So, what shall we do about this room?"
"Perhaps wait until we know the sex."
"I meant the furniture. How do we want it to look? We can't have a repeat of Keira's nursery. It was a hot ass mess, and I'm pretty sure that evil rocking chair you brought home was possessed."
"What the hell kind of ghost possesses a rocking chair?"
"The one that can't get a doll." She shrugged. "It was always in the wrong place, and you nearly broke your toe on it five times. Plus the cat kept smacking it then ran out like it'd be shot."
"The cat is crazy, and it was dark, because you didn't leave the nightlight on."
"Keira couldn't sleep when it was on. She always fussed throughout the night if I left it on."
"Kinda funny 'cause she has to have a nightlight now."
"I think she just likes the princess on it."
"Mine was baseball," he recalled. "Carol used to hide it. I think...Karen was in on it too, but she'd never say. She laughed every time I came storming through the house, trying to find it, and Carol would...take off upstairs to her room. Mom would find it in some obscure place, like freezer or somewhere. Karen only laughed harder, and I could hear Carol laughing her ass off when I passed her room."
Andrea smiled at him, clasping one of his hands. She rarely heard stories of his childhood, and when he did share, he avoided Karen altogether. It was a good sign. Maybe everything would be okay. Maybe. "You had a nightlight at eleven?" Her tone was light, teasing, and she got the response she wanted.
A flush crossed his cheek, and he grumbled, "If you had terrible siblings like those two, you'd sleep with a nightlight too."
"I was the big sister, and Amy's too sweet to do anything."
"Lucky."
"I am." She released his hand. "So, the changing table. Where should it go?"
He groaned softly. "I think Keira has homework she needs help with, so I'm gonna...just help her."
"Caesar."
"What? You always seem to know what's best, and with my hours, you'll likely be the one in here the most."
She sighed. "Fine, but you're painting it."
"When? Tomorrow?"
"Actually, yeah. Dad wants to help, and you guys can bond." She socked him in the arm playfully. "I'm gonna pick up the paint on the way to taking Keira to school."
"Christ, Andrea. We don't even know what we're having."
"So? It'll bother me until it's done. I have more important things I should be worried about, don't you think?"
"You're ridiculous."
"Yes, I am, because last time our baby nearly had to sleep in a laundry basket!"
"Hey, we set it up in time!"
"Uh-huh."
He ran a hand through his hair and waved it away. "I'm going to help Keira with her homework. I'm making dinner tonight too, so you can just rest."
"Caesar, in the time that we've known each other," she reached over and tugged his tie free, "have you ever known me to rest?"
"Could you just try?"
"Only if you're with me," she gazed at him, her blue eyes spewing suggestions that didn't involve actual rest, and she flashed him a sweet smile. "Hmm?"
He narrowed his eyes at her, standing two feet in front of him, his tie curled around her fingers. He didn't know if she holding arms up purposefully so her shirt would reveal a teasing line of skin, but he had a feeling. "You tortured Amy when you were kids, didn't you?"
"What?" She hadn't expected the conversation to take this turn. Was he avoiding the subject? Or did that mention of Karen spark something?
"You were the mean sibling."
"Where is this coming from?"
"From that look and the smile." Behind the seduction, there was a hint of something mischievous.
She shook her head. "Now who's ridiculous?"
"And correct."
"I wasn't mean," she argued. "It was all in good fun."
"Guess I'll find out when Keira becomes a big sister. She does favor you."
"Only sometimes. She's a little you otherwise."
"I can't help that my genes are stronger." He reached over for his tie. "I was gonna wear that tomorrow. Keira's parent-teacher meetings."
"I thought I was going." She let him take it then saw the look in his eyes. "Okay, don't." She walked out of the nursery and checked in on Keira, who was working on her homework at the kitchen table. She met Caesar halfway down the hall and crossed her arms.
"Don't what?"
"Act like I'm fragile. I've been pregnant before, and I won't be smothered. I'm perfectly capable of multitasking. I don't stress as much as you do."
"All I want is for you to take it easy."
"I can take it easy when I'm dead. Until then I won't let you try and take on all of my responsibilities. You have a demanding job too, and you can't take on murders and parent-teacher conferences. There's a reason I handle this. God, her teachers don't even know what you look like."
"Ow."
She tilted her head with a wry smirk. "It's true. So just leave it to me, and you can do Keira's career day."
"Are you bargaining with me?"
"No, because that implies you have a choice." She patted his chest. "I'm gonna help Keira with her homework."
"Hey, now that's my thing. If there's nothing else to do—rest. Please."
"Rest is so dull, Caesar."
"But it's good for you. You've been up since six, and you haven't been down since. I'll make you some tea."
"Actually," she confessed, "I passed out when you guys left this morning."
His brows rose. "So, you do know how to rest."
"Why don't you watch TV, and I'll help Keira with her homework?"
"No, it's still our thing, but once we're done, I can think of a few things to preoccupy your time."
"Oh, yeah?" He nodded. "Fine. I'll...watch something. Or maybe read something."
"Haven't you read all the books we own?" He headed downstairs.
"Unfortunately." She greeted Keira with a smile and kissed the top of her head. "You want something to drink, baby?"
"Yes, please." Keira smiled back at her mom. "Are you painting?"
"Not today." She filled the cup Caesar handed her with apple juice and set it on the table, sliding into the chair across from her. "But Dad's painting tomorrow. With Grandpa."
Caesar lifted Keira up and took her seat, setting her on his lap and reviewing what she'd already done. "And Daddy's so thrilled about it."
"Grandpa's coming?" Keira's face lit up. "Grandma too?"
"Not this time, but soon. Aunt Amy's coming."
"Because of my baby brother?" Keira watched her dad erase a few of her answers.
"Baby brother?" Andrea turned her gaze to her husband who focused on wiping away bits of eraser from Keira's homework. "I didn't know you were clairvoyant there, Caesar."
He lifted his head with a shy grin. "A man can hope, can't he?"
"We don't know if it's a girl or boy," she reported, her tone very matter of fact. "But yes, that's why they're coming. Grandpa wants to help set up the baby's room since your parents cannot build a crib to save our lives, and Amy wants to see her niece."
"Hey, I was doing pretty well," he defended. "Sorta well."
"You keep telling yourself that, Martinez."
He chuckled once, not amused and turned to his daughter. "Okay, let's get to work on this then we can watch TV." He handed her the pencil and returned to the first one she'd answered incorrectly, explaining why and how to do it properly.
Andrea observed her daughter and husband, noticing how seriously Caesar took this. She had only popped her head in once or twice when they did homework, just to make sure they weren't goofing off. They never were. She even noticed he knew exactly what he was talking about and explained it to her in a way she could understand it. Andrea suddenly wondered if perhaps he spoke with the teacher, because his knowledge on this subject was too textbook. Huh, maybe they did know what he looks like, she thought as she leaned back in the chair.
About half an hour later, Caesar sent Keira to pick out a movie to entertain Mommy while he started dinner, and Andrea refilled Keira's cup, helping herself to a glass of mineral water. Caesar zipped up Keira's bag after securing her homework in the horse folder marked Homework. He set the bag in his seat and pulled out the ingredients for dinner.
"You called Ms. Webb, didn't you?" Andrea placed the jug of juice in the fridge and collected the glasses.
"Homework's changed since we were in school," he replied. "I want to make sure she gets it and gets good grades, so yeah. I call her from time to time." He reached around her for an onion. "She says hi, by the way. She hasn't seen you in a while."
She shook her head but wore a smile. "I didn't know you...were so invested in her education."
"I struggled through school," he admitted. "Karen was the smart one then Carol, and I had too much pride to ask for help. I didn't want Keira to do the same. Thankfully she seems to have her mother's smarts, so it makes it easy."
Andrea leaned against the counter. "I didn't know that. About you and school."
"The things we talk about when you're resting." He widened his eyes at her, feigning surprise, then smirked. "Want some popcorn for the movie? Dinner will be a while."
"Sure, but not the sweet kind. I want butter."
"Sure that's good for the baby?"
"It's good for the mother."
"We must keep the mother pleased," he nodded. "Does the mother want dessert?"
"Before the dozens of cookies arrive and threaten my health?"
"Yeah, let's pretend I didn't offer that."
"No, we can have dessert." She peered at him through her lashes. "After dinner and once Keira is tucked in."
He kissed her temple. "Sounds good."
Andrea joined her daughter in the living room, Keira hopped up on the couch while Andrea put their drinks down and swiped a blanket off the back of the couch to wrap them in. Caesar tossed in a bag of popcorn and began to make dinner, clearing off the table and finding his favorite knife. Andrea hated it and tried to throw it out on many occasions, but they made a deal that she could keep that ratty old jersey from her high school—which he knew an old boyfriend had given her—and he could keep this knife. The knife came from a set Carol bought when they lived together. He has fond memories attached to his knife, and at least an ex didn't give him the damn thing. Fucking number 14.
The microwave beeped, he emptied the bag of popcorn into a bowl and Andrea came to claim it. She paused before she rejoined Keira and inquired, "Hey, have you heard from Carol?" She suddenly remembering that she hadn't heard from her in a couple days. She didn't know why she thought of her out of the blue, but now that she had, she was worried.
"No, I haven't." His brows furrowed then tried to brush the feeling creeping up on him away. "She's probably swamped. You know how she gets when she's determined."
Andrea nodded, though not entirely convinced. "Maybe I should call her."
"I thought it was my job to worry about Carol."
"Yeah, well my maternal instincts are in overdrive now." She handed the bowl to Keira and picked up her from the table, dialing Carol's number. She pursed her lips when it sent her immediately to voice mail, so she tried again, but the results were the same. "Her phone must be off."
"She could be at dinner with the Monroes and turned it off to not interrupt their conversation. She could have left her phone at the hotel."
"Are those excuses for me," Andrea sent a text, "or you?"
"They're not excuses. She went to find answers, and there are perfectly good reasons why her phone is off."
She locked her phone. "I sent her a text to call me tomorrow." She curled up under the blanket with Keira and scooped out a handful of popcorn.
"Is Aunt Carol okay?" Keira nibbled on a piece of popcorn, big brown eyes locked on her mom.
"Yeah. She just has a lot on her plate. She'll call us tomorrow, and you can tell her about the fun you and Grandpa had."
"Speaking of, do we have to pick him up at the airport?" Caesar ran water over the tomatoes.
"No, but he'll stop by before he checks into his hotel room."
"Great." He would have to get the Dale face tonight. He could handle his mother's glares of disappointment and annoyance until the world ended. Same went for Carol and Andrea's, but Dale? God, it seared itself into his brain. The first time he saw was when he and Andrea went down the Florida to tell her parents they were getting married. He was never fond of Caesar to begin with and learning he was permanently in his life didn't seem to sit well with him. (Or so Caesar's anxiety told him, as Andrea corrected him, stating Dale liked him time and again.) That would have been fine if later that night Andrea hadn't gotten in the mood and that face kept flashing in his head. He slept on the floor the rest of the trip. He wasn't in the doghouse or anything, just stayed there of his own volition. Andrea kept trying to talk him into sleeping with her, but it was futile. She did get mad until he told her why then she laughed herself near to the death. Dale walked in then, Caesar was on the floor leaning against the bed, and Andrea was rolling around on the mattress. He didn't know what the hell had happened, but he seemed more comfortable with their relationship. He wondered why for the longest time, but he knew it was Dale being protective of his daughter and her happiness.
He cut into the peppers and thought back. He understood where Dale was coming from now. Caesar was a total stranger to him, and all he knew was his profession and the dangers that came with being a cop. Once he learned more about him, he lost that look and treated him like family. It was more natural than before. Dale was a kind man, a kindness that he passed on mostly to Amy, so he treated Caesar well enough. Once he got a read on him and his love for Andrea, he lowered his guard and Caesar actually felt like family. Now after the kidnapping, Dale face would be back in full force, and Caesar likely would be shunned.
"I can feel the stress pouring off you." Her sudden voice made him jump, and she giggled. "Some cop."
"You shouldn't sneak up on a guy with a knife," he huffed.
"I have fast reflexes, and you wouldn't hurt me." She studied his face. "Don't worry so much about Dad. I knew what I was getting into when I married you."
"He told me to protect you from that part of my job, and I didn't." He furiously chopped the vegetables in front of him. "I was four steps behind."
"And we're fine." She caught his wrist and made him look at her. "You can't blame yourself for everything under the sun, Caesar. You aren't God. Bad things happen every day, okay? You need to let this go. Keira and I survived. We're having another child. Don't make me call your therapist."
He chuckled despite himself. "Sorry."
"Don't be sorry, just be my husband. Happy and goofy and ridiculously arrogant, not filled with self-loathing and guilt."
"I'm not...that arrogant."
"And we're having twins," she mused.
"Don't even joke about that."
She laughed as his bronze skin dropped in hue, a cringe working its way through him. "Why not? I thought you wanted a big family."
"I do, but not all at once."
"We're not, so don't look so terrified." She watched him channel his attention to prepare dinner, his shoulders more tense than before, and she dropped her gaze briefly. "Dad doesn't blame you. He blames the assholes who broke into our home. He's glad you're here for us. You know he loves you like family."
"Only your mother loves me."
"Your mother doesn't love me," she shot back.
"What?" He laughed outright. "My mother loves you."
"Not at first."
"She was warming up to you. She'd only heard me talk about you. She had this image of you, and when she met you, it wasn't exactly as she thought, but she loves you. My entire family loves you."
"Right." She remembered the cookout she went to after they told Gloria they were getting married. She knew he had a big family out there somewhere in New York, but she didn't know how big until that day. She met so many of his cousins, learned so many names and mixed so many of those names up. She'd gotten hit on by one of his cousins too. Or two of his cousins. It was hard to tell, because she was so focused on trying to remember which one she was talking to and not their faces. He practically ditched her in the midst of second or third cousins. She wanted to strangle him for that, but she'd found her way to the less flirty and more affectionate part of his family. She was then told she'd good birthing hips and they're kids would adorable angels. Talking about children she and Caesar hadn't even talked about at that point was awkward. She tried to escape the conversation many, many times, but was trapped by a picnic table and a dog. At that point in obviously trying to escape, Gloria saved her, and she'd never loved the woman more.
"Well, they were right about one thing."
"Who?" Confusion tangled in his words. "And were right about what?"
"We did have an adorable child. Your aunt or cousin told me that I had good birthing hips. I guess that's right too."
"Well, I'm fond of 'em," he chimed, brow arched.
She rolled her eyes. "More to the point, your mother wasn't fond of me in the beginning, like Dad wasn't fond of you. Gloria and I spent a lot of time together when I was planning the wedding, and she learned to love me then. Dad respected you when he saw how happy you make me, and that hasn't changed. You're family to him and pretty much till you die or we somehow divorce."
"Divorce?"
"I'm not exactly a churchgoing woman, but I hear you Catholics aren't too fond of divorce. So keep me happy and accept that my father considers you to be family."
"Don't let my mother hear you say that. She still thinks we go to church every Sunday." He had to cook around her, which he was used to, though not fond of in her current state.
"Oh, shit." Andrea pushed off the counter and grabbed the calender off the wall. "Oh, crap!"
"What?"
"Dad'll be here through the weekend, and Gloria invited us over for Sunday dinner. It's one of her mandatory family dinners too." She buried her face in her hands. "Damn it."
"Our parents have met before."
"Caesar, it's you, me, Keira, your mom and my dad in her kitchen for two hours. Dad and Gloria haven't spoken since our wedding, and we can't just ditch Dad for Gloria." She sank down into the chair behind her. "Dad and Gloria both different want things for the baby—and Keira. You know Gloria will want to baptize the baby, and Dad..." She groaned at the headache forming on her left temple. "Two hours."
"You're overreacting."
"Have you met your mother? Have you ever known her to back down?" His head cocked to the left, his eyes deep in thought, and his lips parted in a wince as he caught up to her. "Now toss in my dad and two hours."
"Think we can flee New York before ten?"
"We can try, but Keira's pretty into the movie." She gestured to where their daughter sat nestled in blanket on the couch. "We'd have to drag her away."
"I'm willing to try."
"Me too, to be honest, but the more I smell dinner the hungrier I get for it."
"Fine, we'll just pretend like we're not home then."
"Yeah, that'll work." She ran a hand through her hair and tucked it behind her ear. He'd probably find the hidden key.
"Hey, do you want spicy or no?"
"Mildly spicy. My stomach's...been shifty lately." She slid out of the seat. "I don't know how I'll handle Sunday. I don't know how you handled growing up actually."
He laughed. "It's not that bad."
"It's not just me who thinks that. Keira does too. She got a stomachache last time, because it was too much."
"Well, I could fix that if you let me."
"...the thought of that gave me heartburn." He laughed even harder. "Asshole."
"I can always tell Mom we made plans this Sunday with Dale, you know. She'll understand."
"I'd say yes if Carol were here. She tags along sometimes. But she's not here, and we can't ditch her. It's cruel. We barely visit enough as it is."
"Hey!" He clapped his hands, and Andrea stared at him. "Sorry, I just have an idea. Sophia! We drag her along. Mom's gonna wanna meet her, and it'll stifle the tension of their plans for our baby. Plus she might as well meet her Grandma."
"So Carol can come back and kick our asses for introducing her daughter to your mother?"
"Sophia's itching to learn more about Carol, and Mom wants to meet her. It's a win-win, and Carol can chew me out when she gets back."
She shook her head. "It's your funeral, but...okay. I'll bring the Tums."
"You Harrisons and your weak stomachs."
"You Martinezes and your spicy food."
"I'll show you spicy food." He came at her with a spoon of sauce he was making, and she tried it. "Is it mild enough for you?"
She forced a fake and dramatic cough, and he glared. "Yeah, it is."
"You have some on the side of your mouth," he leaned over and kissed the corner of her lips. "Wait, missed some." He kissed her again. "Got it."
"You sure?"
"Maybe not." He pressed another kiss to her lips.
"Mom!" Keira called excitedly. "C'mon, this is the best part!"
"Coming." She set her hands on his chest. "We can finish this later." She hurried back to keep Keira from hassling her and to not miss "the best part", ignoring the fact that she'd pretty much blocked the beginning out and missed some of the middle.
Caesar smiled to himself, returning to the stove, and he hoped Carol didn't mind that he was taking Sophia to meet Gloria. It wasn't that big of a deal, right? She would meet her sooner or later, and it wasn't like the kid had many plans. She could learn about Carol as a kid, and Mom could get to know her granddaughter. It would keep her off his back for a time. Knowing how curious and desperate for details Sophia was, he knew it would work. It was terrible, and Carol might be pissed at him, but oh well. What's the worst thing that could happen? Sophia might find out Carol was a terror to him when they were kids? Hell, he could have told her that. Her and Karen, the worst tag team ever.
He exhaled and hoped Carol was all right with whatever was happening with those Monroes. He didn't want to consider what the worst thing that could happen there would be. He didn't know her back then, and neither did she anymore, so there was no point in guessing, but he hoped they brought her closure and good memories. Lord knew she didn't have enough of those.
