A/N: I bet you weren't expecting another update so quickly, were you? Well, I'm on a mission--finish this story by Saturday. Luck for me, chapter 13 is almost finished. Anywho, thanks for reviewing the last chapter. I know it wasn't Johanna Lindsey racy or Anne Rice racy, but more so than my usual offerings. Besides, there some rather young adults in the fandom. I try to be responsible. :D Anyway, you know the drill. Alexandri

Joan strolled through the china department casting surreptitious glances at Adam. He'd been quiet all morning, even distant. She remembered him muttering "Morning" when he'd picked her up. After that, she was sure he hadn't said a word since.

So much for her vision of a fun-filled day of gift registering. They'd already browsed the linens and kitchenware departments. She'd even taken him to the tool section in hopes of getting his attention. All she'd gotten for her troubles were absent nods and the occasional vague "hmm." Joan knew they should just call it a day and do it another time, but their schedules were so crazy, she didn't know when they'd get another chance to do this together. And she wanted very much to do this with him.

If only she could get a reaction from him.

"What do you think about this one?" Joan asked, holding up a hideously ornate plate.

Adam barely glanced at it before nodding. "It's nice."

At least he'd said something. Trying valiantly to keep her emotions in check, Joan continued browsing. Surely there was something in the store that was distinctly "them."

Thirty minutes later, she still hadn't found anything promising. Pushing back her sadness at this waste of a day (she'd taken off work so they could avoid the weekend crowd), Joan admitted defeat. There was no point in continuing. Without his input, she was reluctant to make a final choice and Adam just wasn't in the right frame of mind today. They'd simply have to find, steal, or create some time for this later in the week.

"I'm done," she said, her voice thick with disappointment. "We can go now."

When he didn't even "hmm," Joan looked up. He wasn't there. She scanned the china section, but he was nowhere in sight. "Adam?" she called, hoping that he was just hidden from view. He didn't answer. Fighting back panic, Joan searched the area, then the store at large.

She found him in the cookware department looking at copper pots. Initially, her relief at finding him was so great, tears sprang to her eyes. Then she noticed the focus with which he handled the pots. She'd shown him those same pots an hour and a half ago and he hadn't even glanced at them. Now he examined them like a master chef. Anger unlike anything she'd ever felt toward him exploded in her chest and dried her eyes.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Adam glanced up at her, his head cocked to the side like a curious puppy confronted with something inexplicable. "Looking at pots," he said cautiously.

"Looking at pots," she repeated darkly. "Looking at pots? When I showed you those pots, you couldn't have cared less. Now you want to look at pots?"

"About that . . ."

"Did you go to the linens section, too? Find any bath mats you like?"

"Jane, I . . ."

"How could you leave me like that?" she demanded. "Do you know how scared I was when I realized I was surrounded by ugly dishes and you were nowhere in sight?"

"I'm sorry about the dishes, Jane," Adam began sincerely.

"It's not about the damn dishes," she shouted. Drawing a shuddery breath, she tried to regain her composure. She trembled with the fruitless effort. "You know what? Just forget it. Let's go."

"Jane," he said, grasping her elbow.

Wrenching her elbow out of his grip, she glared at his penitent face. "Leave it."

"But . . ."

"I'm trying not to make too big a scene here. So just shut up and let's go." Turning on her heel, Joan marched off. She didn't even look back to see if he followed her.

The anger that had blazed in Adam since Joan's blowup in the department store had died down to mere irritation. He knew that her anger was justified. He should have been paying attention and he shouldn't have left her. What irritated him was the way she'd chosen to express her displeasure. As a result, they now sat in the bistro they'd settled on stoically eating their lunch and avoiding eye contact.

They were halfway through their entrées before the silence was broken. "I owe you an apology."

Startled by the unexpected sound of her voice, Adam glanced up to find remorse etched on her face.

"I-I shouldn't have thrown a tantrum like that," she stammered. "I'm sorry."

Adam nodded his acceptance while he let her words sink in. Then he said, "Why did you?"

"I was mad." The look Joan gave him said she thought that much was obvious.

"I got that," he said, his voice tinged with amusement. "What I don't get is why . . ."

"I yelled at you like that," she finished for him.

"Was it the stress of everything getting to you again? Did you feel overwhelmed by the experience? Had I done something in addition to not paying attention that made you lose it like that?" Reaching across the table, Adam laid his hand over hers. "What happened, Jane?"

She shrugged, poking at her salad. "I was really looking forward to registering," she said simply.

"I know. Why?"

"Because it's different than everything else."

"Go on."

With a sigh, Joan put her fork down and met his eyes. "It wasn't about the gift part or the shopping part. It was about the meaning behind it."

"You lost me."

"Registering doesn't have anything to do with the ceremony or the reception or the honeymoon. It's not about guest lists or menus. It's about our life together, our marriage. I really wanted to share this with you because this is the first chance we get to, I don't know, see what we want our life to look like. What we want it to be."

"Oh, Jane," he said.

She waved his sigh away. "I don't even care if we get a fraction of what we register for. That wasn't the point to me. This was an opportunity for us to get a glimpse of who we are as Mr. and Mrs. Rove. I know it's just the material, external part of us but it's a part of us we don't know yet."

Adam took hold of her hands. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," she said with a dismissive shake of her head.

"No, it's not."

"You have a lot on your mind. I understand that. You're bound to be a little preoccupied sometimes."

"So what? I knew we were doing this today. I knew you were excited about it."

"But you're not a shopper, Adam. I should have expected your interest to fade."

"Jane, I was looking forward to this, too. Not for the same reasons as you, but I was looking forward to spending some time together. My not being a shopper had nothing to do with my behavior."

She shrugged. "Still."

He squeezed her hands to get her attention. "Don't excuse this."

"What?" she asked, her eyes wide with surprise.

"This was important to you and I ruined it with my inattentiveness," Adam stated. "You don't have to excuse that. You shouldn't."

"So what should I do?" she asked, bewildered by the turn in the conversation.

"Admit that I hurt you."

Joan teased her bottom lip with her lips, looking like he'd asked her to sever a limb.

"I want to hear you say it, Jane," he prodded gently.

"Why?" she whispered.

"Because you have this strange image of me. On the one hand, you want to protect me like a parent protects her child. On the other hand, you seem to see me as this faultless being who can do no wrong. I told you last year that that's not me. I make mistakes and I do stupid things and I need you to acknowledge that. You don't have to excuse the hurtful things or the big, dumb things that I'm sure to do. You can be angry with me if you want."

She took a deep breath and slowly released it before meeting his eyes. "You hurt me."

"Now I'm going to apologize and you're going to accept my apology, okay?" Joan rolled her eyes and nodded. "I'm sorry I hurt you, Jane."

"Okay." Adam raised an imperious eyebrow at her and she giggled. "I accept your apology."

"Thank you," Adam said, smiling at her gratefully. Joan gave him a tiny one in return. "Now there's one more thing I need you to do."

"What's that?"

"Forgive me."

"Always."

"Is everything satisfactory?" Adam and Joan glanced up to find their waiter standing patiently beside the table. "Is there anything else I can get you?"

Adam glanced at Joan.

"I never turn down dessert. You know that."

"A dessert menu, please?" Adam said, trying not to laugh.

"Of course." The waiter cleared the table and returned immediately with the menu.

Joan ordered something fudgy. Adam didn't order anything as usual. He found that watching her eat dessert was far too distracting and much more satisfying that eating it himself. She didn't disappoint him.

"Adam." She sounded like she'd called his name more than once.

He blinked. "What?"

Smirking, she said, "I offered you some."

"I wouldn't dream of depriving you."

"Whatever," she said, giving the bowl of her spoon a slow, thorough licking.

Sometimes he swore that she made a show of eating just to torture him.

"Adam?"

"Hmm?"

"What were you thinking about?"

"Just now?" he asked, hoping that wasn't what she meant.

It wasn't. "At the store earlier."

"Nothing important really. It turns out that Dad has been dating since I went off to school. With you, not to New York. I just found out this morning," he finished with a shrug.

She was as surprised as he'd been. "Oh."

"I just couldn't stop thinking about it. I'm sorry."

"I understand."

"You know, I've changed my mind," he announced. "Let me have a bite of that."

Joan obligingly scooped up some of the moist cake and held the spoon out to him. "I think we both have things to work on," she said softly as he chewed. "I try to make you flawless and you try to protect me from your problems."

"What are you talking about?" Adam asked though he already knew what she meant.

"Talk to me. Tell me how you feel about this morning."

"He didn't have to hide it from me," he said finally. "That's what's so upsetting."

"Did he say why he didn't tell you?"

Nodding, Adam took another bite of Joan's cake. "Something about not wanting me to deal with his seeing another woman if the relationship wasn't going to last."

"He was trying to protect you."

"I don't need to be protected all the time."

"Sweetie," Joan said, rubbing his arm, "he's your dad. That's his job. He just didn't want to hurt you."

"I know, but I'm not a child anymore. I don't need to be coddled, Jane. He should have told me. I probably wouldn't have taken it too well, but I'd have come around." Adam paused, running his hand absently through his hair. "He didn't need to lie to me."

"I know how it feels to find out your parents lied to you."

"What am I supposed to do now?"

"Just what you told me to do: admit that he hurt you, accept his mistake and forgive him." She smiled at him. "It's actually pretty good advice."

Bringing her hand to his face, he pressed his cheek into her palm. She stroked his cheek in return. "It's good to have someone to share this with."

"That's what I'm here for." Suddenly, a mischievous gleam came into her eyes. "Speaking of sharing, you ate the rest of my cake."

A glance at the plate confirmed her statement. "Sorry."

"That's okay," she assured with a nonchalant shrug. "You'll just have to make it up to me. After all, you wouldn't want me to feel deprived, would you?"

"Certainly not."

"Good. Because what I have in mind requires a lot of effort on your part." Joan stood, gathered her purse, and came around to his side of the table. She leaned toward him. Adam raised his lips for her kiss. She surprised him by licking a smear of chocolate off the corner of his mouth. "And chocolate sauce," she whispered. "We're going to need lots and lots of chocolate sauce. I'll be right back. Think about it."