A note from me: First: This is my apology, I'm at the tail end of my sophomore semester in college and ran out of time to write this chapter, so it's a little late. Secondly: Are these chapters long enough? 3500 words are my minimum target for this story. Tertiary: Is there anything you *want* to, see? Anything you're expecting that I'm missing? I'm just a writer, you are the ones experiencing the story. Let me know.


"Circumstances may cause interruptions and delays, but never lose sight of your goal."

Mario Andretti

Friday afternoon, Dave was on a mission to take back his romantic weekend, for some reason that meant a trip to Saks Fifth Avenue department store for his tux fitting and the FAO Schwartz toy store; before an event held by his publishing company. Their special weekend was quickly becoming a dog and pony show, he'd take as much time with her as he could get. Meandering around the city and shopping for clothes sounded like fun.

"We could drive," Dave offered, tugging on his boots.

"Everything we need is across the street," Erin shook her head in the negative. "It would take longer to get the car from the valet."

"As long as you're sure…" He watched her every move and asked a million questions ever since they got to the hotel. "I don't want to wear you out."

"Let's go," she glanced out the window at the dark clouds rolling in. "We don't want to get caught in the rain."

"Yes, Ma'am." He stood, shoving his wallet in the inner pocket of his sportscoat. "Do you have the room key?"

"I do," she held up the key card before sliding it into her purse.

"Leave that here," he pointed to her handbag. "Put it in the safe."

The New York City sidewalks were riddled with cracks and uneven surfaces, it would take one smart-ass punk to grab the strap and knock her down.

"I got it, David." She assured him, clutching her bag protectively. "I'm not worried, I have you."

"Damn right you do." He led them to the end of the hallway and called the elevator. "Ladies first," he threw his arm across the side of the elevator, blocking the sensors as they stepped inside.

"Thanks," she grabbed the cool metal railing on the back wall as the doors slid closed. Squeezing her eyes closed as the metal box began to move.

"You, okay?" He covered her cold hand with his. His forehead knitted in concern.

"Uh-huh," she nodded, blowing out a breath. Resting her back against the metal rail as the tension eased there. "Elevators make me dizzy."

"Since when?" She rarely took the stairs at work; he knew that because they always walked out together.

"Eh," she shrugged, suggestively touching her stomach as the doors slid open. "Seven, eight months ago."

"Another unfortunate side-effect," he offered her his arm as they stepped out of the elevator and led them across the marble floors of the hotel lobby. Holding the door open, leading onto the street. Car horns blared and the permanent smell of decaying trash hung in the air like a noxious cloud. The incoming rain would either wash it away or make it worse, only time would tell.

"Ugh," Erin blanched, pressing one hand to her mouth. "I thought the smell was a myth."

"The humidity makes it worse." He eyed the overflowing trash cans, flies circling over the heaps of garbage dotting the sidewalk. "Looks better across the street."

She knocked her forearm into the button on the crosswalk and watched as the indicator turned white, clutching his bicep as they looked both ways before crossing.

Erin leaned in close enough to whisper in his ear, as they stepped off the curb. "I know you're not excited about the party tonight, but I love the way you look in a bow tie."

His voice took on a flirtatious tone. "Is that your way of suggesting that I wear one?"

She bit her lower lip, eyes suddenly sparkling with desire, her voice went low the way it did when she was flirting with him. "It's not a suggestion."

"Well, I like those gowns that make you look like this-" He took both hands and made the shape of a Coke bottle in the air in front of him. "That's an observation."

"You like it when I look like that, huh?" She teased him, flippantly waving her hands in the air. "Like that?"

He laughed and she joined in, ignoring the hustle and bustle of the city. The blaring horns of frustrated drivers and the permeating stench of trash on the street seemed to melt away.

"As long as you're pulling down my zipper at the end of the night-"

"That'll be the only zipper I'm pulling down." He teased. "We better get moving if we're going to make it back to the hotel in time."

They crossed the street at the crosswalk Erin made a beeline for the Starbucks walkup window. He stopped short just beyond the line. "What are you doing?"

"Coffee," she answered, fixing him with a look that said, 'duh.'

He knew better than to come between his woman and her caffeine, she carried a gun and wouldn't hesitate to use it.

"What do you want?" she asked, standing in line, debit card in hand.

He shrugged, normally, he'd argue that it was too late in the day for coffee, but they had an event to attend that night and Dave was feeling the midday lag. "Whatever you're having."

A few minutes later, with lattes in hand, Dave held open the door of Saks Fifth Avenue. The air conditioner sent a refreshing breeze through the door.

"Small?" He took a sip, wrinkling his nose. "We're on per diem, Babe. Go nuts."

"You said you wanted what I was having, and I've cut back." She countered.

"Take a cart," he pulled one from the rack and waited for her to take it. Before leading them to the baby section.

"This doesn't count towards the 'date' portion of this trip. He grabbed a car seat off the shelf. "But it is something we haven't bought yet."

Erin studied the box, copying the model number into her phone. "That's the Ferrari of car seats."

"Precious cargo," he explained, sliding the box under the cart. "We can cheap out on a lot of things, our kid's safety ain't it."

"Neither of us are what I would consider 'good, safe' drivers." Speed limits were strongly worded suggestions, at best and yellow lights were unspoken challenges.

"Speak for yourself, I have a perfect driving record," he boasted.

"You have never gotten caught," she countered, flipping through the rack of baby clothes. "That doesn't mean you're the better driver."

"You got a red light ticket last week."

"It was an emergency," she huffed, throwing a stack of baby outfits in the cart.

"An emergency?" He echoed, skeptically, raising an eyebrow.

Erin blushed slightly, "I was five minutes from our house and," Her voice dropped to a hushed whisper. "I had to pee!"

"What's all this?" He studied the stack of baby clothes in the cart, wrinkling his nose, "Put these back." He said, hanging the clothes back on the rack.

"They're cute!" She said, plucking them off the hangers and back into the cart.

"Nah," Dave wrinkled his nose, "Rossi's don't look good in yellow; it washes me out."

"Who says he'll look like you? He might be fair-skinned," Pointed out.

"Genetics," he shrugged, tossing a selection of navy blue and green outfits in the basket. "He needs socks."

"He'll just kick them off." Erin insisted, "if I had a dollar for all the socks each of the kids lost in their first year, I'd be a very wealthy woman."

"You're marrying me," He boasted, coming up behind her. With his warm hand across the small of her back. "That makes you a wealthy woman."

She could have melted through the floor as he swept a firm hand across her back.

"Keep doing that and I'll marry you on the spot." She mumbled, melting into his touch.

"More to the point, do you like your feet to be cold?" Dave grouched, grabbing three different types of baby socks. "'Cuz, I don't." He dropped the socks into the cart.

"Fair enough," she relented, "but we're not buying shoes until he can walk."

"Ouch!" He feigned hurt, pressing a palm to his chest. "You're talking to a man with more shoes than the Mall of America-"

"And Carlo will grow out of them before he can wear them-"

"I don't care," he argued, crossing his arms stubbornly over his chest. "I'm doing this book tour for money, but there's no point in making money if I can't spend it on my child."

"Okay," She gently touched his arm, knowing what their child meant to him. "You're right, buy the shoes," she walked over to the rack, "What do you want?" Flipping through the options, tiny boots, sneakers, sandals with straps across the heels. Dropping one of every size and color into the cart. "We'll come back once the seasons change."

"See, I knew you would give me what I wanted." He boasted, wagging his finger. "Why did you have to give me a hard time?"

"I don't know," she shrugged, giving him a soft smile. As they headed towards the formal wear. "It's fun."


"What do you think?" Dave held up a black bow tie to his neck. "Matte black or the silk emerald, green?" He asked, looking back between the mirrors that encircled him.

"Hmm…" Erin pressed a finger to her lips, thinking it over. "I like the black."

"But the green matches your gown." Erin had decided on an emerald, green, floor-length one-shouldered number with a tapered hemline that hugged her body in all the right places.

"Go with the black tie and green pocket square," she offered a compromise. "Did you bring your cufflinks?"

"Didn't think I'd need them," He shrugged off the tuxedo jacket, putting it back on the hanger. "I'll rent a pair."

"Wait here," she abandoned the cart and went to the jewelry counter. Spying the beautiful platinum and alexandrite cufflinks in the case. The dark green, purplish stones set off against the platinum. They would complement Dave's ensemble perfectly. He was the man of the hour, after all. A second later, a man dressed in all black with a Saks name tag, appeared behind the counter. "Can I help you?"

"I'd like those platinum cufflinks, please." She handed over her credit card and waited while he boxed up her purchase and printed a receipt.

"See anything you like?" Dave asked, sideling the cart up beside her.

"You don't listen very well," Erin complained. "I thought I told you to wait with the tux."

"I have the tux," he gestured to the second garment bag, draped in the cart.

"And now you have a lovely pair of cufflinks to go with it." She said, passing him the white gift bag.

"I said I'd rent them-" he argued, reaching for the receipt.

"You'll need them again." She assured him, crunching the receipt in her hand. "You don't need this." She said, in a singsong tone. "They're my gift to you."

"Erin-" He wanted to argue that already, he didn't need or want another $500 pair of cufflinks when he had three more pairs in the safe at home.

"Nope, David don't argue with me." She said, raising her chin haughtily.

"Let me see that," he argued, circling his hand around her wrist.

"No." She pulled back and he loosened his grip. "If you want it," she flashed him a glare, daring him to challenge her. Her hand deftly disappeared down the V-neck of her shirt, "come get it."

"Women," he clucked, shaking his head in amusement. As they headed towards the checkout line.

"Don't disrespect the mother of your child. Just take my gift and say, 'thank you, Erin."

"Thank you, Erin," he intoned.

"They're lovely Erin," She waited for him to repeat it.

He wrapped his arm around her waist, holding her close. "You're lovely, Erin."

"Thank you for noticing."


"What's going on over there?" Erin asked, from the bed across the room. Dave sat at the desk, sprawled out in his boxers and t-shirt, the shiny hearts printed on his underwear shone in the dim lamplight. While they procrastinated getting ready for the event. Someone would deliver their purchases, until then, they were killing time.

Dave had a smile on his face, that she only saw when he was writing to his relatives in Italy.

"Reading my most recent email from my mother." They kept in touch through email and the occasional video conference call with his mother and sisters. Despite the time difference, every Sunday, without fail, they spent an hour writing back and forth while he was winding down his day and Carmelina was having her third cup of coffee.

"Did you send her the most recent bump date?" Erin propped herself up on one arm, watching him type. She didn't take a lot of pictures, but they made sure that Dave's family in Italy got the highlight reel on the latest Rossi baby. Especially his beloved mother.

"Of course, he turned back to the email scanning the paragraphs. "Oh no," The laptop slammed closed, "No, no, no!" He groaned, dramatically dropping his head into his hands.

"What's the matter?" She sat to attention, "David what's wrong? Is your mom alright?" Visions of his spritely, 80-year-old mother breaking a hip, filled her head. "Tell me what's happened!"

"They're coming here!" He muffled his voice with his hands, "my mother and her sister, Are. Coming. Here."

"To New York?"

"My mother wants to be here when the baby comes-" He didn't bother to look up from his hands.

"What's wrong with that? We have three empty rooms-"

He popped up, eyes bulging out of his head. "And I don't really want our house overruled by overly opinionated old ladies- between my mom and Vera we won't see Carlo till kindergarten!"

"So? We put them all in my townhouse twenty minutes away," she said in a tone that said it was the most obvious solution. "They can argue over the hand towels and the way the toilet paper roll goes until their hearts are content."

"That'll never fly," one wrong move, and his mother would eat Vera for breakfast. "My mom will kill your mom."

"I don't doubt it," Vera was only rude to Dave because she knew she could get away with it. Carmelina Rossi, David's mother, wouldn't hesitate to put her in her place.

"We'll figure it out," he grumbled, checking the clock on the wall. "We better get moving," he groaned as his knees popped as he stood. Feeling more and more like a prized show pony as the day went on.

"It's not every day you get an invite to a red-carpet event. Dave mused, straightening his bowtie in the mirror for the third time in ten minutes.

"It's not every day that a red-carpet event is held in your honor, either." Erin reached behind him, smoothing the lapels of his tuxedo jacket. Cupping his cheek in her hand. "I'm so proud of you." Her voice took on a wistful tone. "It's the 10-year anniversary of your first book."

"It's a media ploy," Dave stepped into the bathroom spraying on cologne. "Either way, it's a nice touch."

"Ugh." Erin stood in front of the full-length mirror. "I should have tried it on after lunch." She gave the zipper another yank, twisting her arm awkwardly behind her back. "Dammit! David, don't laugh at me."

"I'm not laughing at you," he answered, eyes crinkling at the corners as he closed the bathroom door.

"You are!" She accused, flashing him a glare. "I carry a gun and I know how to use it."

"You know, you're not half as threatening with your ass hanging out." He crossed the room, coming up to reach her.

"Either help me or leave." She huffed, standing upright. "It doesn't fit, and I don't have anything else to wear."

"Breathe..." his hand cupped her cheek, brushing his thumb under her eye. "No tears, you'll mess up your makeup."

"It's waterproof." She sniffed, wishing she had thought to pack her shapewear and unhappy with the knowledge that no amount of spandex would shove her gut back towards her ribcage, enough to make the dress fit.

"You just can't reach it," he soothed, coming to stand behind her, with a steady hand on her hip. The other hand slowly pulled the zipper into position. "See? It's a perfect fit."

"Thanks." She went over to the nightstand and pulled out a box. "Here," she offered it to him. "Open this."

"What's this for?" He sat down on the edge of the bed, taking the box in hand.

"Just something to help you remember your night." She answered, sitting down beside him. "Open it. Who knows? You might need it."

"Hang on," he went to his suitcase and unzipped the side pocket, sliding the small velvet box into the pocket of his slacks. He'd ask her now, in the peacefulness of their time together. Then she'd have something new to wear to the party.

"Hotshot!" A familiar shrill tone came from the hallway, with a round of incessant pounding on the door. "Limo's five minutes out."

"Shit." He bit out, "I need to put a bell on her."

"You'd have to pay her extra," Erin deadpanned.

"It would be worth every penny."

"Open the box," Erin said, shoving it towards him.

"The limo is waiting..."

"They're paid to wait." She pointed out. "Open it, it'll just take a minute."

He flipped open the lid, sliding the Waterman fountain pen into his hand.

"Read the inscription." Erin gestured towards the gold lettering on the side of the pen.

"Is this your way of telling me that I'll be signing autographs tonight?"

"Only a few."

"A few?" He grumbled, unhappy with the thought. "I don't want to sign any."

"Would you read the damn pen, please?"

"To our next ten years." He read aloud, holding the pen aloft towards the light.

"Our?" He raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"Yes, our. Just to let you know that I'm not going anywhere."


"After you," Dave held the back door to the limo open, waiting for Erin to climb in.

"Who am I meant to be signing autographs for?" He asked, buckling his seatbelt as the driver weaved in and out of New York City traffic.

"You'll see," Erin pulled her phone from her clutch, checking her text messages as it vibrated.

Garcia: Ran that deep dive on Rossi's agent. Bad news bears. Visited Blake two weeks ago for a media interview. Advertising, nil.

"What are you looking at?" Dave tightened his arm around her reflexively.

"Nothing, uh." She deleted Garcia's texts and pulled up Cassie's. "My kid caught a fish." She said, showing off the photo of Allison with a decent-sized bass.

"Alright, Allie!" He beamed, focusing on the windshield.

Erin's phone vibrated again, she turned towards the door to read.

Amanda: Numbers are dropping. Hope you've decided what to do. Fake it till you make it. Nobody gets hurt.

"Did you know about this?" Dave looked around the Mezzanine of Gotham Hall. The space looked like it had been pulled straight out of a 1940s speakeasy. The room overlooked the stunning Grand Ballroom, the Mezzanine provided spectacular views of the opulent architectural details that are Gotham Hall. Expansive and majestic, the Mezzanine features floor-to-ceiling Corinthian columns, a gilded honeycombed ceiling, and two-story arched windows. Better than the view outside, was the crowd of people waiting for them. Everyone was dressed to the nines alongside the chairman of the board of his publishing company. Amanda stood with him, in the corner, no doubt brown-nosing her way towards a promotion.

"I helped," Erin admitted. As Dave made his way toward his beloved mother with his arms outstretched.

"Mama, what are you doing here? Your email said you weren't coming until… well… come to think of it, you didn't say when you were coming." He said, kissing her soft sun wrinkled cheek.

"I scheduled that email." Mrs. Rossi said, in her thick Italian accent. beaming with pride at her only son. "I wanted to surprise you."

"Mission accomplished." He chuckled, looking around the room. "You guys didn't have to come."

"Your mother's amazing," Penelope gushed, clutching Derek's arm.

"Bit of a backseat driver, though." Hotch deadpanned, winking

good-naturedly at Mrs. Rossi.

"You drive 'a too fast!" Carmelina complained, squeezing Dave's arm.

"Try riding with this one," Penelope teased, pointing at Derek.

"Ouch!" Derek feigned hurt, pressing his palm to his chest. "That's only because your beautiful vintage death trap can't go faster than 60 miles per hour."

"Leave Esther out of this!"

"Who is Esther?" Mrs. Rossi asked softly.

"I have a perfect record," Reid pipped in.

"Of course, you do!" The crowd groaned at once, "That's it!" Dave decided, "My kid and my mom are only allowed to ride with Reid."

"Uh," Reid blushed, "I don't think my car has anchors for a car seat."

"I… don't want to ride with anyone," Mrs. Rossi looked around the room, confused.

"I was joking, Ma." Dave patted her hand. "Speaking of my kid…" Dave trailed off, looking around the room. "Where did Erin go?"

While Dave was busy socializing, Erin broke away from the crowd. Her favorite place to be at parties was in dark corners with powerful men.

She weaved through the crowd of white-shirted catering staff, brandishing trays of appetizers until she found Amanda in the corner with a bored-looking publishing executive. "Excuse me, Mr. Collins. I'd like to steal Amanda away from you for just a minute." Erin flashed him a smile. "We won't be long."

"Oh," he took a sip of his brandy looking relieved, "Please do and take your time doing it."

"Mr. Collins-" Amanda tried again to catch the man's attention, but he'd turned his back.

"We need to talk," Erin hissed, steering Amanda by the elbow, out the door, and into the adjoining ballroom.

"What do you want?" Amanda hissed, crossing her arms.

"I don't care that you interviewed Blake, but you need to tell David the truth."

"Fake labor on TV." Amanda countered, equally stubborn.

"Why?"

"It'll make him look good. Keep the numbers steady. Do it and I'll come clean."

Erin's eyes narrowed; hands clenched across her arms. With venom in her tone. "Either you tell him that you're deliberately skewing the advertising, or I will."

"What I'm doing doesn't hurt him-" Amanda argued.

"You're not advertising his books or the tour until he's halfway on the road. How is that not hurting him? You're his agent, you're supposed to be helping him sell books!"

"Play my game and I'll play yours." Amanda leveled with her, "I'll talk to him after your interview tomorrow."

"Tell him now," Erin demanded. "Right now."

"Or what?" Amanda spat, narrowing her eyes. "Do you expect him to believe you over me?"

"David believes me," Erin said, with conviction. "Also," she leaned in closely, "when you're at an event like this, end conversations on a high note. The trick to schmoozing the fat cats is knowing when to get out."

PS. I took the description of the party venue directly from the website of Gotham Hall.