She's overbearing, abrasive, and arrogant. And she's leaving in four weeks, you remind yourself. You wonder who she thinks she is, throwing out these deep psychological questions about the effects of cartoon violence on children's wellbeing. It's Wake Up, San Francisco, for crying out loud, not CNN! It's a breakfast-time talk show. You do fluff pieces; that's the whole point! But Little Miss I've Won Two Emmys for Investigative Reporting is putting her own spin on things and it's driving you crazy. She's driving you crazy because as much as you can't stand her, you also really like her. Even Joey can see that. But she's leaving in four weeks.
You watch her walk back out to her car, smiling smugly to yourself. Sure, it hadn't been the ideal first date, but she admitted that she had fun and even commended your parenting, calling you a terrific dad despite the fact that your youngest daughter had stowed away in your car. But she was so understanding about the whole thing and so sweet with Michelle. And that goodnight kiss was - you stop yourself. You work together, and she's leaving in three weeks, and then you'll probably never see her again. You both agreed not to mix business with pleasure, but that had gone out the window when you took her out to dinner and kissed her goodnight. Now you can't stop thinking about that kiss, and you realize that you don't want to. You want her, but she's leaving in three weeks.
She's leaving today for The Windy City, to pursue her dream anchor job. You know it's for the best, and as much as you want her to stay, you don't want her to resent you. You know long-distance is going to be hard, but it's worth it. She'sworth it, so you're determined to make this work. You give her the first of many goodbye kisses and watch her hurry to the gate, not knowing exactly when you'll see her next. When she returns moments later, you think she's lost her nerve and encourage her to be strong but laugh a little when you realize she's back because she doesn't have a ticket for the flight that's about to leave. You hold her close and sway to the music as Jesse leads a group of elderly musicians in an odd rendition of Chuck Berry's Rock and Roll Music. Even though you know another goodbye is coming and you have to brace yourself, at least she isn't leaving today.
She's leaving for the airport and nearly forgets to kiss you goodbye, despite kissing everyone else in the vicinity including Kimmy and Steve. Once she's gone, Michelle asks you why you don't just marry her already if you love her. You try to explain that it's not that simple, but as the words come out of your mouth, you realize that it really is. All you have to do is ask her, and hope that she'll say yes. When you find out that she'll be able to get away from work for two days to join the family in Orlando the following week, you decide to ask her then. When you do finally ask her after a day full of interrupted attempts, she nods enthusiastically, tears spilling from her eyes as she does say yes. In that moment, it doesn't matter that she's leaving for the airport again tomorrow, because she just agreed to be your wife and start a new chapter of your lives together where she'll never have to leave again.
You walk her out to her cab and pause before opening the door, unsure of what to do or say next. You give her the last of many goodbye kisses. She says she's sorry, again, and so do you because what else do you say? You open your mouth to tell her that you love her one last time, but you stop yourself. You stop yourself because she's leaving, and you know that telling her that now is only going to make this harder on both of you. She's still crying and as much as you don't want to let her go, you do because this is her dream job, and you couldn't possibly ask her to give it up just for you. So you open the door for her and wish her good luck, then stand and watch helplessly as the cab drives away. You bow your head and swallow, knowing that you still have to go home and tell the girls. You wanted so badly for this to work, not only so the girls could have a mother but so you could have a wife again. You hadn't fallen that hard for anyone since Pam. She was The One and now she's leaving. She left. Some hotshot New Yorker was going to be a very lucky man one day.
You feel like you're floating on a cloud as you give her a ride back to her hotel that night. She's leaving again tomorrow, but this time with your phone number and a promise to stay in touch. As friends, for now, but you'll take what you can get. After the year you've had, with the divorce and losing your job, tonight was exactly what you needed. You thank her again for accompanying you to the party, apologetic that the venue wasn't exactly what you had anticipated. She smiles, assuring you that she had fun, and that, as strange as it was that the Tanners still named their parties, she missed being part of them. You tell her she's welcome back anytime she'd like, and she agrees to take you up on that, so long as you ditch the ridiculous Miami Vice suit. You concede but point out that her floral ensemble isn't exactly in style either. She laughs and you laugh, and for a brief moment, it feels like she never left.