Author's Note: I'm really enjoying this lighthearted story and I hope you are too.


"Life is a flower of which love is the honey."

Victor Hugo

"We're not staying here," Dave insisted. "I don't care if we have to sleep in the car."

"I wouldn't go that far," Erin said, Curtis' toad-like face lived rent-free in her head, on a good day. If she walked back into that hotel room, it might never leave. Her instincts for self-preservation ran deep, but not deep enough to sleep in the car.

"Contrary to what you believe, Hotshot, I listen when you speak," Amanda's voice rang through the car's stereo system. "The problem is, you're not the only celebrity in town this week. I called every hotel within a five-mile radius of the studio. You can keep your room at the Fair-hope or sleep in the lobby of the Super 8. I've been there, you do not want the Super 8."

"Try 10 miles!" he argued. Glancing over at Erin, trying to gauge her reaction. She sat ramrod straight in her seat, waiting for him to make a decision.

"This is New York City, there has to be another hotel."

"You're on the waiting list for three other places," Amanda assured him, "You have a better chance at winning the New York lottery than you do of finding a pet-friendly hotel room for Father's Day weekend."

"So, you're telling me that there's no room at the metaphorical inn? Let's keep looking," Dave glanced over at Erin again. Her hands clenched at her side, just when he thought they were making progress, he wasn't about to let a hotel room force her back to square one.

"Hang on, I'm getting another call." The phone line clicked as Amanda switched to the other line.

"Are you okay?" Dave reached over, taking Erin's cold hand in his, squeezing her fingers.

"Let's go inside-" She reached for the door handle; her bladder screamed in protest. "We can stay here."

The line clicked, "The two of you, better buy that lottery ticket, then head over to Rockefeller Center, you have adjoining rooms across from the film studio."

Dave felt relieved, lessening his grip on the steering wheel. "Thank you."

"That's what you pay me for," Amanda trilled, before ending the call.

"Sometimes I wonder if I pay her too much," Dave mumbled, shaking his head. "Something tells me I'll be paying extra for that."


"I thought you listened when I spoke," Dave paced the length of the conference room. "Erin doesn't want to be on T.V."

"Make her." Amanda argued, "your career needs this-"

"Sales are up 3 percent-"

"Yeah, but you need them to skyrocket-"

"I don't." Sales were steady and that was fine with him.

"You're not trending anymore-"

"On Twitter?" Whatever that meant, he didn't care and didn't care to know.

"Anywhere." the word dropped like a rock, a judge's gavel sentencing him to another meeting with his accountant to rearrange the budget. He would not tell Erin, making her worry about money wasn't an option.

"My family isn't a publicity stunt-"

"That's a good quote," Amanda glanced up from the notepad in front of her, laying down her pen. "Can I use that?"

"No! This isn't up for debate-"

"This isn't up for debate," Amanda mocked him in a high, squeaky voice. "Yeah, yeah." He'd complain until the cows came home, then she would do whatever she needed to do to save his ass. "You'll thank me later."

"Why don't I like the sound of that?"

"If Erin loves you like you say she does, she'll parade that baby-bump in front of the cameras. The media loves a pregnant lady."

"Goodnight, Amanda." Dave ground out, annoyed at the thought. "I'm not asking her to do that."

"You shouldn't have to."


While Dave was in the conference room down the hall, Erin made herself comfortable in the suite. Mudgie's crate took up the corner of the room, closest to the bathroom. His snores seemed to fill the room; they were as annoying as they were reassuring. She wasn't alone this time.

With that thought in mind, she pulled out her laptop, she'd googled David Rossi many times over the years when her curiosity got the best of her. This time, she wasn't being nosey. She was diligent.

What she found was…. Disappointing, at best. Clicking her tongue, she found her phone, calling in reinforcements.


"Chief Strauss?" Penelope grabbed the silk sheet, wrapping the soft fabric around her body. She couldn't talk to her boss with her tits hanging out.

"Agent Garcia, do you know anything about online advertising?"

"Umm…" Penelope paused, unsure of what to say. "I know how to manipulate the advertising."

"That's what I need. David needs this tour to go well," Erin explained. "He's not coming up on social media. You have to look for it. He has a solid fan base, but he needs fresh faces-"

"Rossi's never asked for my help before-" Penelope said. "I can make sure all the social media outlets are advertising the book tour." She grabbed her tablet and went to work, making the Google algorithm her bitch was child's play.

"He doesn't know I'm asking for help-" Erin said quickly. "I'm sure his publicist knows what she's doing, and he doesn't even know that I know-"

"He doesn't need to know." Penelope agreed.

"I just… I know he's never needed help and short of having this baby on live T.V., I don't think my story is going to do any good for his book," Erin said, "And I don't want to give Blake any more time in the Press." She scrolled through the Google results. They didn't need the money, but if this appearance flopped… well… he barely wrote now. He'd stop completely if the book wasn't well-received by the public. He loved writing; it was his way of processing things… who would he be without it?

"It might help his image…" Penelope offered, "show the press that not only is he the total badass FBI agent… he's…" She turned to the side, meeting Derek's gaze from the other side of the king-sized mattress. Derek's warm fingers trailed distractingly down her arm. Her breath hitched; the words caught in her throat as his mouth moved higher… "Rossi's …. a family man."

Mudgie ran out of the crate, stalling in front of the door, ears perked up. Growling low in his throat.

Erin swung her legs off the bed, and the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. She stood up, looking out of the peephole. Relief swept through her; Dave was back. She stood back, waiting for him to open the door.

"It couldn't hurt. Thank you for your help."

"I'll get it done," the phone dropped from her hand, onto the floor, Penelope hoped and prayed the call had hung up.


"You can't do that-" Penelope bit out, without heat. She was too busy enjoying the fire flickering under her skin as Derek's hands swept down between her legs.

"Watch me," Derek countered, working his way down her body. "Call her back, let her hear you orgasm-"

"You're awful!" She teased, biting her lips. "Just…. Deliciously…awful."


"Hello?" Erin paused, but the phone was silent. She hung up and shoved her phone into her pocket. Just in time for Dave to stroll into the room, holding a bag of take-out.

"I went across the street and got us some food," he announced. Laying the Styrofoam boxes out on the table.

Erin wrinkled her nose as the pungent smell of Chinese food permeated the room.

"How was your meeting with Amanda?"

"Eh," He dropped one shoulder, in feigned nonchalance. "Apparently I'm not trending enough."

"What's the plan?" Erin pulled up a chair and sat down across the table from him. "Is there anything we can do?"

"She thinks she can paint a heroic image of me if we talk about what happened-"

"Do you think it'll work?"

"Probably," he shrugged, "but I don't want to," He said stubbornly. "Not gonna happen."

"Why not?" Erin pressed, "you should do what she says."

"I'm not doing it, Erin. I'm not exploiting what happened to you to sell books-"

"What if I want you to?" She countered. Pulling up a chair across the table from him. "If Blake can tell her story, we should tell ours-"

"It's not the same thing-" He shoveled a forkful of lo-mein in his mouth

"How so?" She helped herself to the container of miso soup that she knew he wouldn't eat.

"I can't use your story to market my book when I wasn't even there to stop it!"

"Nobody has to know that. Amanda's whole job is to make sure your books sell. You should trust her."

"She'll have to find another way," he dug in his heels. "Either the book sells on its own, or it doesn't-"

"What happens if it doesn't?"

"Then I'll write another book." He said, dropping his shoulders like it was the simplest thing in the world.

"Here," he passed her another bag across the table. "I got your staples." He waited for her to open the bag, then rattled off the contents. "Goldfish crackers, Sprite, pickles, and Oreos. Weirdest combo ever." He teased, with a light in his eyes. He'd done a decent job of keeping track of her more recent cravings. "The only thing they didn't have was the canned pineapple."

"It stinks in here," she complained. She opened the door leading to the adjoining room. "I'm going to take a shower, while you work on your speech." She grabbed her suitcase from the corner of the room, before pecking his cheek. "David Rossi, I love you as much as life itself, but you stink! Old fry oil and fish paste are not aphrodisiacs."

"Sorry," he shrugged, pulling out his notepad. "Fish paste is better than pickle juice and Oreos."

"Whatever," she rolled her eyes and lifted the jar from the bag. "Pop it for me?" She asked, holding it out.

"I got you, Babe…" He sang out, taking the jar and effortlessly turning the lid.

"Thank you, I'm taking my snacks and three of your egg rolls." She reached across him and snagged the corner of the container.

"Two egg rolls," he offered a compromise, stopping her hand.

"You have six-"

"And I want four." He argued, pulling the container towards him.

"I'm growing a whole new person in my body." She hissed through clenched teeth yanking the container back. "You can have as much Sweet and Sour Chicken and greasy noodles as you want. You owe me two and a half egg rolls."

"Fine," He relented, dramatically shaking his head, and snagging two egg rolls between his fingers. "Take the box."

"Thank you," she huffed, "We both know you were going to give it to me anyway. Why do you have to give me a hard time about it?"

He stood up and grabbed her suitcase in one hand and her laptop under his arm. "Because it's funny," he joked, wheeling the bag into her room. He sat her laptop on the nightstand. "I need to work on my speech."

"Go ahead," she toed off her shoes, setting out her feast on the table near the window. "I'm going to shower."

"Want the door open?"

"Close it, please." She directed, pulling the T.V. remote from the nightstand drawer. "Find me when you're done."

The door clicked, and Dave's footsteps padded into his own room.

It didn't take long for her phone to ring. She didn't know how Amanda got her number, but it didn't matter. "Hello?"

"Listen to me," Amanda said forcefully. "David doesn't give a shit about book sales, but I do, and I think that you understand me when I say that he's in trouble."

Erin's attention peaked, "What is it?"

"He needs attention. Book sales, social media trends, people need to watch his T.V. segment-" She ticked off the list, "I'm not saying he can't hold his own-"

"What are you saying?" Erin leaned in; manipulation was her strong suit when the need arose.

"He needs to play up the loving husband angle, housewives love a strong, successful man, who's already taken."

"Do you have a plan?"

"You need to go into labor on T.V-"

"What?" Erin's mouth dropped open in shock. She'd made a joke about it, but it wouldn't work… "I'm sorry, what?"

"Think about it, you two would be a YouTube clip in the first 30 seconds- the universe will know his name in a minute and a half. Fake it, in the middle of the interview."

"And when David figures out that I lied on live television. he'll kill me!" Erin said, unzipping her suitcase.

"He'll get over it. It's not that hard," Amanda shrugged. "I've done it four times. Just touch your stomach a lot, wince like you're in pain, and crack a few jokes…"

"You're out of your mind!" She heard the shower cut off from the wall between her bathroom and Dave's. It wouldn't be long before he came knocking on her door.

"I'm playing Chess while your man is playing Checkers and he's betting your new house on a book that didn't do so great at the start of this tour and isn't projected to do much better-"

"I'll think about it." She would not think about it, it was a terrible idea.

"Better hurry and decide. You've got 2 segments. Tomorrow and Saturday."

It was a terrible idea, but if it helped Dave's career… maybe it was worth it?

Amanda said, ending the call. Erin sat back with her back against the headboard.

"What do you think, Carlo?" She ran a loving hand over her stomach, "Do you think I should try my acting chops, for daddy's numbers?" A kick was her only response.

"That's what I thought…"


The next morning, Erin sat in the studio, watching David charm the pants off the network producers was her highest form of entertainment.

"Rolling!"

"We're LIVE in…5…4…3…2…1! ACTION!"

The talk show host flashed a wide and sparkly grin in Dave's direction. She was the kind of person who was made for TV. Bubbly, without being artificial, kind without being overbearing…. The perfect television host. Erin sat in the front row, with the live studio audience. She was convinced that no man on Earth looked better under the high-resolution lighting.

Dave sat on the sofa, across from the host. His tie was only slightly crocked and the collar of his sportscoat lay perfectly flat. The camera beside her panned over to the host of the show, "I'm Lisa Robinson and I'm here with Supervisory Special Agent, David Rossi. He's an author, an agent of the Behavioral Analysis Unit, and most recently…

Lisa Robinson trailed off dramatically.

"I'm a dad," Dave spoke into the microphone, the pride in his voice was evident, catching Erin's eye across the stage, his chest puffed. It was the look she'd been waiting to see. She missed whatever else was said because she was too busy burning that look of tenderness into her memory, saving it for later.

If Amanda had anything to say about it, Erin would need to remember that David still loved her. Erin pulled her cell phone from her pocket, another text from Amanda.

His numbers aren't much better. He needs you to pull this off. You're on the next segment. Need to sell 100 tickets for the signing. Not good odds.

Huh… Erin scrolled through her texts from Garcia, Rossi's numbers are WAY up. He's trending on Twitter and tickets for his book signing sold out this morning.

Erin frowned, Garcia had no reason to lie, but why wouldn't Amanda want her to know the truth?

"You did great," Erin smiled up at Dave as they walked out of the studio.


"Sorry it took so long," he unlocked the car and held open her door. "Lisa's a bit of a diva." They had to shoot a few extra takes because the host kept flubbing her lines.

"I think it was great," She slid into her seat and pulled on her seatbelt. "The vet called…"

"And?" His eyebrow rose suggestively.

"Apparently, the dog we found is on her way to the kill shelter."

"So, we're turning our new house into a dog sanctuary?" He wasn't thrilled with the idea.

"We don't even have a new house yet," she pointed out. "Why can't she stay with us until we find her a home? We have the room."

"And we have a baby coming," he pointed out, checking the mirrors before backing out of the parking spot. "I'll get up for our son, but I draw the line at nursing puppies."

"Then I'll take care of the puppies." She assured him, "three-hundred thousand dogs are euthanized each year. It wouldn't be that hard for us to reduce that number by a little bit."

"Fine," he relented, they had the space, and the kids, especially Allison, would flip her lid over a new puppy. He plucked the GPS off the dashboard, passing it to her. "Put the vet's office in the GPS."


An hour later, Dave set up a dog pen in Erin's room, the stray now had a collar, leash, bed, and her own food bowls.

But the dog still hadn't left the crate. Erin sat on the edge of the bed, with the kids on Facetime.

"Family vote on the new dog's name," Erin said, angling her phone to show the kids their new dog. The vet gave her a bath and trimmed her fur, leaving her short yellow coat soft and shiny.

"She's so cute! Call her Gracie!" Allison said called out.

"She looks like a Max," Paul cut in, appearing over Allison's shoulder. "Think about it, Max and Mudgie have a nice ring to it."

"No," Cassie said with authority. "I think her name is Wendy since you found her at the Wendy's."

The dog in question stood in her pen, without reacting to any of the suggested names.

"I don't think so…" Erin said, "that makes me think of Peter Pan and Wendy."

"We found her on Old Bridge Road," Dave offered in suggestion.

The dog stepped cautiously out of her crate, moving towards Dave. "Old?" He tried again, to gauge her reaction. "Bridge?" The dog stepped closer to him,

"Bridget?" He guessed as she lay down at his feet. "Look at this," Dave called out, ruffling Bridget's ears. As Erin turned the camera around. "See, Dave?" Allison teased in a singsong voice. "She loves you."

"He's used to that," Paul chimed in. "I saw you on T.V. today…. It suits you."

"Mom's on tomorrow," Dave pointed out, with a smile. "What are you guys doing this weekend?"

"Fishing, tomorrow." Allison gave a bored shrug. "Maryanne is coming with us." Erin frowned, Pete dating her assistant was one thing, having Maryanne around the kids when it wasn't a committed relationship, was something else.

"Are you taking the boat out?" Erin asked as Cassie disappeared from the frame.

"Dad's gonna let me drive it!" Paul jumped in excitedly.

"Don't forget your Dramamine, Girls," Erin teased, "your brother's going to hit all of the waves."

"Every single one," Paul nodded his head. "Go big or go home. The girls might want to stay on the dock."

"That's the plan," Cassie chimed in, rolling her eyes at her brother.

Just as Bridget jumped up on the bed and dropped her head in Erin's lap.

"What are we going to do with the puppies?" Allison asked, suddenly timid.

"We're going to find them good homes, once they're old enough," Dave answered, from across the room. "Bridget will stay with us."


"Okay," Dave pulled up a chair beside Bridget's crate, across from Erin's bed. The kids had ended the call, long ago. There were no more distractions. "We need to talk about the elephant in the room. What's your plan, Erin? You better hope that you and Bridget, don't pop at the same time." He asked, leaning back in his chair.

"That won't happen," Erin said, lovingly stroking Bridget's ears. "The puppies will come first."

"You have no reason to think that." He argued, "I agreed to keep the dog," he reminded her, "It makes me nervous thinking about all the newborns coming all at once."

She nodded, only because his argument made sense. "What do you want to do?"

Not this. Dave had the good sense not to say it. "We need to come up with a backup plan. I'd feel better if Bridget were home with your mom. If she had the puppies at home, someone would be around to take care of them." And he could focus on Erin and Carlo, he didn't say that, knowing that Erin would tell him not to worry about it.

"Pull out your notepad," Erin directed. "We're making a birth plan."

"For the dog?" He rose an eyebrow in disbelief and flipped to a clean sheet of paper.

"For me…" She answered, "and the dog."

Do you have a theory on what will happen next? There's a clue, did you find it?