"Mom, can you see if Elliot can come still come to my dance recital?" Noah had asked me yesterday.

The word still had surprised me because I didn't even know he had asked him on Christmas to come. But I had sent him a text asking him anyways. It had been a few days since we had spoken. The hot dog stand incident put a little bit of rift between us again and I'm sure he didn't know how to approach me without upsetting me. Elliot had responded quickly, had said he wouldn't miss it for the world.

So, here I am, sitting on one of the probably hundred chairs in the audience with my bag on the chair beside me waiting for him. My eyes keep scanning the entrances, keep scanning the room and I'm about to look down at my phone when I finally see him. I could seriously spot the guy from a mile away with that bald head of his.

Much like I was doing for him, his eyes begin to scan the chairs looking for me. Once they get close to me I put my hand up to wave and he smiles the moment he sees me.

"Hey," he says as he takes the seat my purse was occupying.

"Hi, thanks for coming."

"Like I said, I wouldn't miss it. He said he has a solo?"

"He does and it's so good."

"What I saw at my place, he's really good."

"He is."

"Can he sing too?"

I shrug, "Not as good as he can dance. Why?"

"Was just going to say he definitely didn't get those two talents from you."

Asshole. I glare at him and when he cracks a chuckle, I can't help but laugh. It's true. I can't sing or dance for the life of me. "Whatever. Don't act like you're that much better in any of those departments."

"I at least can hit a note."

"Yeah, well you still sound like shit."

He laughs and shrugs his shoulders, "Well it's a good think neither of us dreamed of being a singer or dancer. We would have never achieved it."

"If that's not the truth." We fall silent then and I check the time on my phone. Still another 15 minutes until the show starts and there's no way we can sit here in silence for another 15 minutes. "How's everything going? With Wheatley?" I know he's investigating the man again, for everything. Anything that will be enough to get him behind bars so he can be tried again for Kathy.

"Well, actually. He's an interesting topic right now. Paired up with the FBI to help with an investigation and called us in to help."

"What?" What the hell is this man trying to pull.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure he's taunting us. But we're keeping an eye on him, investigating him privately to see if we can crack him for anything. I just need you and the kids safe right now. That's my main concern."

I nod. Since the man has been released I feel like I'm checking my back way more than normal. Constantly looking in my rear view mirror, constantly checking the locks on my doors and windows, constantly scanning my eyes around the streets to make sure I don't see anything suspicious. To live in fear is a shitty way to live. And we have children to protect too. "And the kids?"

"They're okay. Eli is counseling. I go with him once a week, therapist said it would be good for me to join. Figure out ways to help him. Mama's pills are locked away, so is the alcohol."

"He'll get there, El."

"I hope so." He pauses, glances up at the stage once more and then looks back at me, "How about you? How are you doing?"

Me. It seems like this is a new thing for him. Ever since I called him out on not asking me about my life, he seems to make sure he never forgets to ask me how I'm doing. He's making it clear. This a two way street now. Not only one. "I'm okay. Feel like I'm consistently checking my six but I've already notified Noah's school, dance class and sitter to be on the look out for anyone or anything that looks off."

"You tell your security at your building too?"

He makes it clear. He's not only worried about Noah, he's worried about me too. He has always protected me. Has always made sure I was protected, even when I didn't want it. "Yeah, I have."

He nods, "Good. I would tell you to make sure you look through the peep hole before you open your door but I think you got that much already."

I smile, "I do."

"I'll make sure I keep you notified if we get any more information and when I figure out what the hell Wheatley is up to," he says.

He'll keep me in the loop and for that, I'm thankful. "And I'll make sure to tell you if I see anything off." When he nods, I smile and reach for his hand. He takes it without question, gives it a squeeze and it seems like we both don't want to release one another. I glance down at our joined hands, watch his thumb rub against my knuckle and when I look back at his face, he's giving me that look again. God, I can literally feel the warmth spread from the tip of my toes up and I need to say something or it's going to show on my face. "Um, we're going out to dinner afterwards. Noah's choice. If you want to join us."

He smiles, "I'd love to."

I'm thankful that the curtains open then because with the current look on his face and Jesus, I swear he just looked at my lips, I don't know what the hell was about to come next. We both break away from each other then, our eyes falling on the stage in front of us, our hands falling apart but our bodies seem to instinctively scoot closer to one another so that our shoulders are touching. I just wish this wasn't so complicated between us. I wish our history hasn't put us, me, in a pickle of doubt. Because like Bernie said, he's my person. I know he's my person. But it doesn't make this any easier.

We both watch Noah in awe. He hits every move perfectly, gives the best facial expressions, smiles and waves at us when he finishes and when Elliot bumps my shoulder in what I think is pride, I smile widely. "Yeah, he's pretty great," I whisper to him.

"He is."

"I want to go somewhere that has spaghetti," Noah tells us when we meet him at the stage.

"Of course you do," I say, taking his dance bag from his shoulder. I'm about to swing it over mine but Elliot is quick to grab it and swing it over his. I raise my eyebrows at him because I am perfectly capable of holding a bag and when he only grins and shrugs his shoulders at me, I shake my head at him.

Noah's voice draws his attention away from me. "Spaghetti is my favorite."

"I love spaghetti," Elliot says.

We're walking towards my car, weaving in and out of people with Noah's hand firmly in mine, his body in between both of us. "Mom makes pretty good spaghetti."

"You can make spaghetti?" His eyes have that stupid look of humor in them and God, i still want to hit him sometimes.

"It's not rocket science."

"Well neither is frying an egg."

Bastard. I swear to God, if Noah wasn't between us right now. "Mom can fry an egg too."

"Yes, I can. I can make a pretty good stir fry too."

"I'm impressed."

"We get delivery most of the time though," Noah adds and thanks son, thanks a lot.

Elliot chuckles, "I'm sure you do."

Whatever. I work a high profile job, I don't have time to cook dinner every night. That's what I say but really I know, and so does Elliot, that the real reason is that I don't like to cook. It annoys me. I'll do it sometimes, mostly to allow Noah to help but every day? No thank you.

"You want to ride with us? And I'll bring you back?" I ask him as Noah opens the door to the car.

"Yeah, if you don't mind."

Dinner makes me realize how much the two of them genuinely like one another. They never stop talking. Their conversation flowing with ease and at one point I'm about to pull out my phone and check my emails because obviously they have both forgotten that I'm sitting at the table too. But I'm in so much awe of the two of them that I watch them silence instead. Say a few words here and there when they address me. And decide to just let them bond.

Noah is getting older and as much as I know that I'm a good mother and that I am handling being a single mom the best I can, I know some positive male influence will be good for him. It still makes me nervous because him growing attached to Elliot and Elliot leaving will be a whole new level of heartache for him. He remembers Ed but briefly. Elliot? He'll most likely remember Elliot for the rest of his life. And I just want those memories of him to be good.

And when Elliot carries him on his shoulders back to the car, tickles him as he buckles his seat belt, my heart expands with a combination of joy and nerves. Once Noah's door is closed, leaving us alone on the street, Elliot gives me that look once more. "Don't hurt him, Elliot." Hurting me? That's one thing. Hurting my son? That's a whole other.

He steps closer to me, not as close as he would like, I can tell, but Noah is in the car waiting for us. "I won't, Liv. I'll never hurt him and I'll never hurt you again."

I give him a tight lip smile, the one I give when I'm trying not to cry and nod my head before heading to my door. One step at a time... we'll get there.