There was a knock at the door.

"I'll get it," Roger said aloud, even though Mimi had fallen asleep against him. He got up, quietly and went to answer the door. He was surprised to find Mark standing there in the doorway.

"Hi," Mark said, flatly.

Roger stared at him. "Hi…"

Mark produced a Tupperware bowl of chicken soup. "Maureen wanted me to bring this up. For Mimi, I mean." He paused. "It's not a 'forgive me' gift."

"Oh. Thanks," Roger said, taking it and turning to put it in the refrigerator. Mark followed him inside.

"How'd she doing?" Mark asked.

Roger shrugged. "She's asleep. Her fever rose to 102 when I checked it last."

"Are you taking her to a doctor?"

"Collins said Frankie has the same thing. It's just a bug."

They were both quiet for a moment.

"I know you didn't just come over to give me the soup."

Mark blushed.

Roger sighed and sat down on the barstool by the counter. "I'm sorry I exploded at you."

"Well, you had good reason," Mark said, remaining where he was.

Roger looked up. "Mark…do you know if she loved me…towards the end, I mean?"

"She always did," Mark said, softly.

"She was always seeking shelter from somebody," Roger said, snorting a little. "I guess that time that somebody turned out to be you. Does Maureen know?"

Mark nodded. "Yeah. She was the one who convinced me to talk to you about it."

"Oh."

"She knew for a while. She just never brought it up until now."

Roger smirked. "Hell of a time to bring it up. A little late, too."

"I know."

"I just keep getting new outlooks on what our relationship was," Roger sighed. "And I know it's been almost two years since then, but she was the first girl I ever really loved, you know? It's hard, finding out stuff like this."

"Yeah…," Mark uncomfortably began to clean his glasses.

He snorted. "Well, that's that, you know? That was then, this is now."

From the other room, they heard Mimi call Roger's name, sounding like a child who'd just had a nightmare calling for their parent.

"I should go," Mark said, replacing his glasses. "Mimi needs you."

Roger nodded.

"I'll talk to you later?"

"Sure."

"Alright. Bye. Make sure she gets the soup. Tell her it's from Maureen."

"Okay."

Mark left, and Roger returned to the bedroom, where Mimi awaited him.

When Roger put his hand to Mimi's forehead the next morning, she felt much better than she had the night before.

Mimi slowly opened her eyes, and looked up at him. "Hey," she smiled, sleepily.

"Feeling better?" he asked, running his fingers gently through her hair. She had thrown up in the middle of the night, previously.

"Yeah," she said. "A lot better than yesterday."

He grinned. "Is it okay to kiss you, then?"

Mimi grinned back at him. "You missed it?"

"Yup," he sad, and leaned in to kiss her lips, gently.

Mimi pressed her face against his cheek and sighed, contently, wrapping her arms around him.

"What do you want for breakfast?" Roger asked, playfully tugging at strands of her hair.

"What do we have?"

"Well…Maureen made you some delicious chicken soup."

Mimi faked hacking sounds and rolled over onto her side.

Roger laughed. "C'mon," he said, smacking her on the bottom underneath the covers. "Let's go get breakfast."

Mimi groaned into her pillow and threw off the covers, slowly sitting up.

"You know, you're sexy the morning after throwing up," Roger told her.

Mimi smiled and held out her arm to Roger, who pulled her to her feet.

"Let's go, sexy," he said, laughing as Mimi nudged him hard with her foot.