We're back to the grind following our vacation and even though I spent six glorious days in paradise, I'm ready for another adventure.

"Sorry I'm late." Piper kicks the door shut. "My meeting lasted forever."

I give her a peck on the cheek, then head to the kitchen. "Did it go well?"

"As well as any meeting with federal employees can go."

"Was this the one about the cost of phone calls in prison?"

Piper nods. "We're making headway, but there's so much fucking red tape."

I stir the corn and zucchini chowder. "Which is why nothing has been done about that issue since the beginning of time."

"I received a very interesting phone call on my drive home just now..." She steals a slice of bacon. "…from my dad."

My brows creep up. "What did he want?"

"You." She chews the bacon.

I let out a quick laugh. "Excuse me?"

"His company is going through this whole rebranding thing, and the marketing firm advised him to update the website," she begins. "It probably hasn't been updated since I was in high school."

I'm pretty sure I know where this is going. "And you suggested I take a look at it?"

Piper shakes her head. "Nope."

"Ok…." I wait for her response.

"The marketing firm he's using, Kenwick and Company, gave him three e-mail addresses for web design firms." She opens the refrigerator, pulling out two beers. "Guess whose firm was among them?"

"Kenwick and Company?" My brows rise again. "They're the ones who worked with four or five financial services that I designed websites for. I think they're based here though. Why would your dad be working with them?"

"Apparently they're a global company." She pops open both bottles. "Their headquarters are in London, but they have branches in Columbus, Detroit and New York."

I point the spoon at my chest. "And they recommended me?"

"They did." She hands me a lager. "My dad called to see if you'd be interested in putting in a bid."

That is definitely shocking. "Are you just fucking with me?"

"No, I'm serious." She tosses her head from side to side. "He asked if I'd mention it to you."

I stick a hand on my hip. "There has to be a catch."

"He probably wants a family discount, but other than that, I don't think there is."

"Your dad hasn't accepted that I'm in your life," I counter. "Why would he want me of all people, the woman he's sworn to hate for all eternity, to update his company's website?"

"He doesn't hate you, Al. We've already gone through that." She takes a sip. "Maybe this is sort of an olive branch."

I take a long sip of beer, wondering if that could possibly be true. Bill told me in no uncertain terms that he would tolerate me but never accept me. Maybe he just wants to earn brownie points from his daughter, and he figures he'd be in her good graces if he hired me.

"Alright, well…I guess I'll give him a call tomorrow."

"Good." She kisses me. "What's for dinner?"

"I'm trying to use every last vegetable in your garden before the first frost." I dip the spoon into the soup, then bring it to her mouth. "It's a corn and zucchini chowder with a little bell pepper and spinach thrown in. We'll crumble bacon on top after it's in the bowls."

"So good." She wipes a dribble off her chin. "I'm starving."

"Are you nervous?"

If I had a dollar for her time Piper has asked me that question over the years, I'd be a wealthy woman.

"A little." I finish applying a coat of lipstick. "I'm glad you're coming."

"It'll be nice to see my former co-workers." She slips into a jacket. "And introduce them to you."

From what Piper has shared, her dad's employees were supportive when she came clean about serving time and having a prison wife. They were also appreciative that she gave her two weeks' notice before moving to Ohio to be with me.

"Ready?" I grab my purse.

"Yeah."

We head towards the hotel elevator. "Can Pam still show us the place in Tribeca at four?"

Piper hits the down button. "She sent a text an hour ago, saying she might be a few minutes late, but that'll give us time to check out the neighborhood."

"We walk in that neighborhood all the time," I say. "What else is there to discover?"

"Do you pay attention to everything we walk past?" she asks. "I want to know where the nearest grocery store is; what's the local pub and do they have happy hour; if there's a Subway stop within a block or two; which park is best for picnics."

We step out of the elevator and into The Beekman's lobby.

"Since when do we picnic?"

She shrugs. "We might do it more often if there's a park nearby."

I grin and hold the door open for her. "This unit has everything we're looking for, babe. If it's even half as beautiful as the pictures online, we should buy it."

"I know." She jogs down the steps to the Subway. "Pam is going to put an offer together before we meet and fill in the details after we see it if we think it's the right place."

I pass through the turnstile. "So, she's starting the paperwork just in case?"

"Yes."

We take the train three stops, then make our way to Bill Chapman's office. Butterflies begin to form in my stomach, but I remind myself it's just another business meeting. If I don't think of him as my father in law, which I don't think he sees as his role, I could do this presentation in my sleep.

I take a deep breath as we approach the front desk.

The receptionist greets Piper with a hug. "It's good to see you! You look great!"

"So do you. It's been too long." She smiles and steps aside. "Heather, this is my wife, Alex Vause."

I shake her hand. "Nice to meet you."

The other women file in presumably after hearing our exchange. One by one, they hug Piper, and then she introduces me.

A woman named Beverly nudges Piper with an elbow. "Even I'd go gay for her."

"You definitely married up," Joanne offers. "I've seen pictures of Larry…" She shakes her head and leaves it at that.

"I thought I heard your voice." Bill comes out of an office and approaches us. "Good to see you, honey." He hugs her, then nods at me. "Alex."

"Hi." I hold my hand up.

"Are you going to stick around for a bit?" He turns to his daughter. "I'd love to catch up after the meeting."

"I was planning to stick around, yes."

"We want to see wedding photos," Beverly says.

Piper mouths good luck before heading to the back office, which is where I assume she scanned documents for eight hours a day after she was released from prison.

Bill opens his arm. "Right this way."

I follow him into his office, and he shuts the door.

"I've prepared a presentation for you, but if all this is for show to get Piper in your good graces, I—"

He holds up a hand, stopping me from finishing my sentence. "It's not for show." Bill moves behind his desk. "I've looked at a few of the websites you've designed. They're great—functional, easy to navigate, not too much clutter…"

I'm taken aback. Surely I thought this was a rouse to please Piper by pretending to entertain my business plan. "Oh…ok."

"I want to see the prototypes you created and check out the ease of use, but as far as I'm concerned, the job is yours."

Now I'm downright flabbergasted. "Wow…Why are you making this so easy?"

"You're right, I do want my daughter to think highly of me for offering you this opportunity, but the simple fact is you do good work." He raises his shoulders. "It's a win-win."

He's said all the right things, but I still doubt his intentions. "This is hardly what I'd call tolerating me."

"I want to know why my daughter loves you," he says. "Clearly, you're a beautiful woman who now has a lucrative career, but there must be more to it than that."

I could take that two ways: One, he wants to get to know me better before swearing to hate me forever, or two, he wants to find flaws in me so he can point them out to his daughter.

"You'd have to ask Piper why she loves me."

"Show me. Treat me the way you treat her—without the romantic part, of course." He waves a hand in front of his chest. "I promised my wife I'd give you a chance to prove that you're worthy of Piper's love."

While it's not the most altruistic or flattering thing I've ever heard, in a fucked up way, it's his attempt to allow me into his life.

"I'm also going to treat you like a client, since, you know, you will be." I pull out my laptop and enter business mode now that the personal stuff is out the way.

"I'd have it no other way."

For the next hour, I show Bill three prototypes and the ways in which he can customize navigation on the site. He asks questions along the way all of which are common and easy to explain.

"I can give you a 20% discount." I hand him my pricing sheet. "Since you're family and all."

He winces at the term and it's not lost on me. Two steps forward, one step back.

"I'll be in touch next week to see which design you like most." I shove my laptop back in its case. "It might be helpful to have your employees and friends play with each of the designs to see which one feels best. I'll e-mail you a survey that you could send them to capture their feedback. Other clients liked the formality of the survey rather than just hearing their preferences in a sort of informal way."

He walks me to the door. "This was helpful. Thank you."

"My pleasure." I see Piper sitting on a desk and showing pictures on her phone.

"What are you all looking at?" Bill asks with a smile.

"I'm showing them photos of my garden." She hops off the desk. "Want to see?"

He takes the phone and scrolls through the pictures and while his head is bowed, I wink at her. She and her dad chat for another 10 minutes, but then I remind her about our appointment with the realtor.

"Alex and I are looking at a place in Tribeca," Piper states. "It has everything we're looking for, and the price is right. Cross your fingers this is the one."

"I hope it is. Maybe you could come over for dinner tomorrow night," he suggests.

"We have reservations at Keens tomorrow," she replies. "What about brunch on Sunday?"

"I'll check with your mom." He hugs her. "Good luck with the viewing." Then waves at me. "Thanks again, Alex. I'll be in touch."

We head out and Piper can't wait to hear how the meeting went.

"It was good—he's going to hire me."

She squeezes me in a side hug. "That's great news, Al!"

"I'm giving him a 20 percent discount," I say. "So, he's getting a good deal. We're already cheaper than most web design firms."

"Maybe you should consider raising your prices."

We talk about work on our Subway ride to Tribeca, and Piper has some good ideas for price restructuring. Sometimes I wonder if she should've been a consultant rather than an attorney—she's always filled with good ideas despite being a tad overzealous. If I get more clients in New York, I'll surely change what I charge; otherwise, some businesses might not take me seriously.

"What's the address again?" I ask as we take the stairs up the Subway platform.

She glances at her phone. "1129 Warren Street. Looks like the cross street is West."

"That's a busy highway," I note.

We pass a coffee shop, burger joint, Duane Reed, and a bank before turning the corner. "This is probably the nearest grocery store."

She points. "And there's an Irish pub across the street."

We continue walking around the block and taking in our surroundings. "There's a small park."

Piper reads the placard. "Washington Market Park—it's cute." She squints against the sun. "Haven't we had drinks at The Odeon before?"

"Yeah," I respond. "We're only six or seven blocks from the Beekman."

"I like this neighborhood more than I thought I would." She stops in front of a place with a blue door. "Here's the building."

I look up at what appears to be a four or five-story red bricked building. "Nice windows."

"It used to be a cannery." She pulls the listing up on her phone. "You can tell—it has those huge floor to ceiling windows. I wonder if any of them open."

"I'd hope so."

Our realtor arrives five minutes later. "Thanks for your patience. I took the Subway from Rye; it took forever."

"No problem."

She steps inside. "This one is on the top floor. There's a big freight elevator if you'd rather not take the stairs."

"I'm good either way," Piper says.

"I've been up and down stairs all day, let's take the lift," Pam responds. "I assume you've read the description."

"We have," reply. "It's listed at $985,000, which seems low. What's the catch?"

"The owner is hoping to entertain offers from multiple clients," she says.

"You mean he wants to get into a bidding war," I state.

"It'll go for over a million." Pam sticks the key in the door. "There are new laminate hardwoods throughout the space, but you'd have to look very closely to know they're not real wood. The kitchen went through a remodel two years ago and it has all new GE Signature appliances."

We enter the condo and it already feels like home. I glance at Piper, and her mouth is slightly ajar. She must've looked at the photos online at least ten times over the past week. I know she didn't want to get her hopes up, but so far, this is exactly what we're looking for.

"It has central air and heat." Pam walks towards the window. "I know that's something you were hoping to find."

I follow her and look at the peekaboo view of the Hudson. "If we put a sofa or a chair here, you can see the river."

Piper is in her own little world in the kitchen.

"Do the windows open?" I move to one on the far right.

"The two on the outside do. The center ones are one big panes of glass."

"There's a built-in wine cooler," Piper comments.

I move to the kitchen. "This is a nice space—it's not super crowded like the last few we've seen."

Pam ticks off other amenities as we move throughout the condo. The only negative I've seen so far is there's only one bathroom—no master bath. It's spacious though with a double sink vanity and a six-foot wide mirror above them.

"There's more closet space than I thought there would be," Piper notes. "More than we have now."

I slide one of the closet doors open. "We could also put in a shelving unit in here and have a smaller dresser against the other wall."

She nods.

"What do you think?"

"It's the first place I've truly loved," my wife replies. "I could see us living here."

"It's pretty close to perfect."

"Glad to hear it." Pam smiles. "I've preemptively drawn up the initial paperwork; all I have to do is fill in a few blank lines if you're prepared to put an offer in."

We return to the living room and sit on the staged furniture while discussing comparable homes in the area and how they're priced. Pam is right—this is surely going to go for over asking, so we want to be certain we put in a bid that would beat all others.

"I'm thinking $1.2 million," I state.

Piper runs her hands up and down her thighs—I can see she's nervous about spending so much.

"That would be a very good offer to start," Pam says.

"That's a lot of money," my wife replies. "We were hoping to stay under a million."

"We've discussed this, babe. We're not going to find a decent two-bedroom for that amount anywhere in the city," I respond. "We've toured 16 places over the past year. You know how competitive the market is."

"I know," she sighs.

I take her hand. "We already have the funds lined up for a down payment."

"Do you need more time to think it over?" Pam asks.

"No," Piper says through a sigh. "Let's go for it."

I raise my eyebrows. "You're sure?"

"Yeah."

"Very well then." Our realtor stands. "I'll fill in the blanks on the paperwork and have it into the listing agent in a couple hours."

"Thank you." I get to my feet and shake her hand. "Keep us posted."

"Will do."

Piper and I decide to give the Irish pub on the corner a try and talk about the merits of the condo.

"It's everything I'd hoped it would be," she says after ordering a Smithwick's on tap. "The master bedroom was even bigger than it appeared in pictures."

"I know you wanted to be on the Upper Eastside, but this place was too perfect to pass up." I take a sip of my Guinness. "Besides, we've become more familiar with Lower Manhattan since we started staying at The Beekman."

"I like the vibe down here," she replies. "It's quiet on the weekends and lively during the week."

"Exactly."

She glances around the pub. "This is the perfect spot for happy hour and it's only a block away from what will hopefully be our place."

"Don't get too far ahead of yourself." I place a hand on her knee. "There are bound to be multiple offers."

She sips her beer. "They'd be foolish not to take our $1.2 million with 20 percent down."

I lift my glass. "Here's hoping you're right."

This is the first time I've stepped foot in a church since I buried my mom, and I hate that I'm here on another sad occasion.

"To know Ms. Mabel was to love her," the minister says. "We all have our favorite stories, but mine was when she thought the chicken wings at the Church picnic were too dry, so she went home to fry a batch and brought them back for everyone to enjoy."

There are plenty of sounds of agreement and head nods. A few people share their favorite Ms. Mabel stories, and I watch Piper tear up and laugh simultaneously. Every story sounds exactly like the woman we knew and loved. She'd become like family to us, but particularly to Piper who relied on Ms. Mabel's company, albeit mostly crabby company, while I was in prison.

I take her hand and smile. She squeezes it and smiles back.

We attend the reception after the funeral, but the only people we know there are Jabari and Laney. We chat with them for a few minutes before bidding our farewell before the casket is lowered into the ground—Piper refuses to watch.

"You ok?" I ask as we pull out of the cemetery parking lot.

"I'll be ok," she sniffs. "This was as hard as losing my grandma."

I rub her arm.

"She was so full of life until her last day, you know?" Piper says. "But that's how she would've wanted to leave this world—not from a hospital bed."

"True."

"She finally gets to be with Earnest and her son." She dabs her eyes with a tissue. "That's something."

"I'm just glad we hadn't moved before she died," I say. "That would've been much more difficult."

She nods.

We return home and Piper stares at Ms. Mabel's side of the duplex. "Who's going to clean out her things?"

"She has a will," I reply. "I'm sure she covered that kind of stuff in it."

A week ago, Ms. Mabel told us that a distant cousin was the executor of her will and that it mostly covered her home and what little money she had in a checking account. Piper wanted to be more involved, but Ms. Mabel considered that "too big a lift" and didn't want to burden Piper with the legal stuff. Of course, my wife reminded her that she's an attorney, but Ms. Mabel brushed her off.

Piper decides to make a bouillabaisse tonight and tells me all about her first dinner with Ms. Mabel. We laugh, cry a little and celebrate her life with a toast of Pinot Gris—Ms. Mabel's favorite.

Our decision to move to New York became a lot easier after Ms. Mabel's passing. I felt an obligation to stay with her as long as she was alive, and there was nothing Alex could've done to make me change my mind. It was a weight I gladly carried.

"Do you like the chair or the sofa next to the window?" She steps to the side.

"If we put the sofa there, anyone sitting on it could see the river." I roll out an area rug. "I was worried the colors in the rug would be too bright, but they look perfect with the furniture."

Cal and my dad enter the condo with a king-sized mattress. "Which room does this go in?"

"The last one on the left." I sit on the sofa to check out the view. "Yeah, definitely keep it here."

"Piper, these glasses are gorgeous," my mom calls from the kitchen. "Where'd you get them?"

"At the home goods shop where I used to work." Alex joins her. "All our plates, silverware and drinkware came from Niche." She pulls out the margarita glasses. "These are my favorite."

"You have good taste."

I try socking that away for future gift ideas for my mom.

It takes two hours for us to get the place in good shape, but to be fair, we had most of the furniture delivered by Wayfair, West Elm and other furniture stores that offered free delivery.

Alex pops open a bottle of Champagne when we're finished with the majority of the heavy lifting. "Thank you so much for helping out today."

I hand the glasses to my mom, dad, Cal, and Neri. "We couldn't have done this without you."

"We're just thrilled you're back home," my father says.

Alex slings an arm around my waist. "Happy to be here."

While my dad hasn't fully accepted Alex into his life, he treats her with kindness and respect. He's impressed with her work designing his website, and I think that went a long way. My mom has been much more inclusive with my wife by inviting her to lunches, dinners and the occasional shopping adventures. Our next big test will be next Christmas when we all fly to Australia to visit Danny.

It's hard to believe how far Alex and I have come, but I find myself reflecting on moments in time regularly. Sometimes I remember the glory days when we traveled the world together, and other times I recall the horrible days when we fucked each other over. When those memories surface, I acknowledge them, then move on.

There's no question I'm finally living the good life—the one my parents always wanted for me. It's just vastly different than any of us expected.

"Hey, babe?" Alex calls. "Should we order Chinese?"

I smile. "Definitely."

The End

Author's Note: This was such a fun story to write! I loved doing the whole canonical thing up until I ran out of episodes to keep it that way. I hope you enjoyed the alternate universe I created for them. I'm pretending this is what happened to our favorite couple in a fictitious season 8. Oh, sorry for offing Ms. Mabel. I didn't want to do it, but having her pass away made it easier in my mind for Piper to pull the plug on Columbus. I toyed with the idea of going into the will and learning that she left the duplex to Piper, but I don't know how realistic that would've been. If you want your mind to go there, I'm fine with that. Thanks for the wonderful reviews!

As for my new story, it begins canonically, then ventures into AU. The catalyst for this one is the scene when Larry got the Kool-Aid Man tattoo, and later that night, Piper drunk dials Alex and leaves a voicemail message (S5, Ep12). That was a HUGE moment in their relationship, and I have much to say about it. This story will be riddled with angst, so be prepared for some difficult times for Vauseman. My best guess on when I might post chapter one would be the beginning of July, but I have several vacations planned that might fuck with that schedule. I appreciate your patience and your encouragement.