A/N: hey guys, once again, thanks for your amazing reviews. You might get the feeling that the story moves a bit slow. Sorry about that. I promise that there is major drama on its way so just keep reading. I'll get there. Promise. It's not gonna be all fluff forever.


Chapter 3

He woke up the next day without knowing where he was or how he got there. The rain had stopped sometime during the night, and sunlight invaded the room through the half-closed curtains. This was definitely not his bedroom. The windows were at the wrong side of the room and he didn't know the blankets that covered him up to his waist. He only wore his boxers, which was odd, yet he wasn't cold. It felt as if the heat was on. There was this sweet smell in the air, like frying or baking of something, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was exactly that was being cooked. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, then ran a hand through his hair, although he knew it was hopeless. He had the most terrible headache that was pounding right through his temples and he felt this strange weakness all over. It was as if he was hit by a truck.

As he reached for his glasses and put them on, he remembered where he was, and a small smile crept onto his lips. San Francisco. Rainstorms. Maureen. He was glad he decided against telling her he was coming over. Her expression when she opened the door was priceless. He was sorry she couldn't spend the evening with him and Libby, but she had already set up that meeting with her parents. Not that he didn't enjoy spending time with Libby, because he did. She was so amazing. He gave her a bath, and afterwards she showed him all her rag-doll collection and invited him to have a tea party with them. They had sandwiches with peanut butter and strawberry jam for dinner. Then he drew pictures for her to color, and taught her how to sign her name on them. At some point he raised his head from his sheet of paper and caught her looking at him curiously. Her hair was streaming down her shoulders in tangles because he had no idea how to braid it the way Maureen did, and also because he loved the way it was; long and curling at its edges. She was wearing a pink pajama. She looked so adorable. A mini Maureen. He smiled. "What?"

"Want to ask you something," she said kind of seriously.

He wondered if something was wrong. Maybe she wasn't feeling okay. "Sure, Libby. Ask whatever you want."

"It's a secret."

He smiled. "I won't tell anyone."

"Not even Mommy?"

"Not if you didn't want me to."

"Okay." She sat closer to him so she could whisper in his ear. "Are you my Daddy now?"

He stared at her dumbfounded and completely speechless for a moment. What was he supposed to say? Yes, he discussed the options of adoption with his lawyer, but he couldn't tell her that. Not only because he didn't think she would understand, but also because he still didn't tell Maureen about it. "Only if you want me to be," he said eventually, looking at her seriously. She nodded. "So yeah. I guess I'm your Daddy now," he said smiling, and kind of relieved.

"Good," said Libby, wrapping her small arms around his neck.

He smiled to himself as he remembered it. He slipped out of bed and grabbed some clothes from his bag, then headed to the bathroom. After a quick shower he followed the smell into the kitchen, where he found Maureen and Libby having breakfast. Maureen smiled as she noticed him.

"Good morning, sleepyhead." She got up and walked over to him. "You look tired. Someone exhausted you last night?" she asked slyly.

"Yeah. Someone," he smiled, giving her a quick kiss. Then he looked over her shoulder. "Morning, Libby."

"Morning, Daddy." She giggled as he messed with her hair a bit, placing a kiss on the top of her head.

Maureen's jaw dropped. She shot him a questioning look. He just shrugged and sat next to Libby. "Seriously, Mark, you don't look too good. You caught that cold, didn't you?" she asked, giving him that accusing look.

"I'm not-" Sneeze. Oh shit. "-sick."

"Oh great," Maureen rolled her eyes as she set a plate in front of him. "Does that mean you won't help me cook for that dinner tonight?"

"Of course I'm gonna help you. I'm okay, I just-" Sneeze. "-need to-" Another sneeze. Crap. Libby handed him a tissue. She looked sad to see him like that. He gave her a reassuring smile. "Thank you, Libby."

"You are going back to bed," said Maureen. "Next time check the weather report before you go on a flight, Mark."

"I did check the weather report. I just ignored it." He felt weak and tired. Even his eyes hurt. He put his glasses on the table and rubbed the bridge of his nose. His headache was getting worse, and his throat felt sore all of a sudden. And now he was also upset for making Maureen upset.

"Libby, be a good girl and bring Mark some pills from the bathroom closet. The ones in the blue box, okay?"

"Okay, Mommy."

"Damn it, I can't believe this," he said once Libby was out of hearing range. He took Maureen's hand and pulled her onto his lap. "I'm sorry."

She ran a hand through his hair. "That's okay. Take a pill, you'll feel better in no time." She hesitated, then asked slowly, "What's this thing with Daddy?"

He could tell it was bothering her. She had that look. "She asked me if I was her daddy now. I really don't mind her calling me that, unless you don't-"

"Mark, shut up," she smiled, leaning forward to kiss him.

"Be careful Miss Johnson, you'll catch a cold," he smiled after she pulled away. It looked like the right time to tell her about his plans to adopt Libby. He took her hand. She looked at him questionably.

"Mommy, I can't find it!"

"I'm coming, Libby." Slowly she let go of his hand and got up. "Go back to bed when you finish here, okay?"

"Maureen-"

"Don't argue. I want you healthy when you meet my mom and dad this evening."

The last thing he wanted to do was to be sick when her parents were there. He nodded and she left the kitchen to get him the pills.


It was late afternoon when he woke up next. He laid on his back and stared at the ceiling. Those pills did have an affect. It felt as if he was floating, but it actually helped. He felt better. He couldn't believe he was asleep for so long. Just as he thought of getting out of bed the door opened and Maureen walked into the room. She moved slowly, carefully, as if she didn't want to wake him. She walked to her dresser and after opening and closing some drawers, she sat at the edge of the bed and gently laid a hand on his forehead. Only then she noticed his eyes were open, and gasped, startled.

"Oh shit Mark, you scared me," she said quietly.

"Sorry. What time is it?"

"A bit after four. You look better."

"Yeah, I feel better. Is there anything else in the kitchen I can help you with?"

"No, there's not a lot left. I just came in to take my stuff for a shower." She looked at the door and then back at him, and winked. "Wanna join me?"

He smiled. "I do, but I'd better not." He sat up, leaning against the bed-board. "I'm sorry I ruined this weekend for you," he said quietly, seriously.

"What are you talking about?"

"This cold. Coming here and sleeping all day was not how I planned to spend this weekend."

"I've already told you before. That's okay. At least you're here."

"Yeah, but I-"

She cut off his protest with a kiss. "Stop… apologizing…" she muttered, trailing her kisses to his neck.

He closed his eyes, trying to resist her. "Where's Libby?" he asked, hoping to distract her.

"Asleep…" she murmured against the skin of his neck. "Sure you don't wanna join me in that shower?" her hands were drifting under his sweatshirt, sliding up and down his chest. Her voice was a seductive whisper in his ear. "Come on, I'll let you wash my hair…"

He opened his eyes to meet her gaze. Her greenish-brown eyes had that naughty sparkle he remembered from so long ago. The remainders of his assertiveness faded away as he leaned forward to kiss her fiercely.

"That means a 'yes' then?" she asked breathlessly, slowly pulling away.

"Like someone ever refused to you before."

She smiled and pulled him out of bed. "Never."


He agreed to check on everything in the kitchen while Maureen got dressed in her bedroom. Libby was in the living room, watching cartoons. As he was moving from the stove to the counter, the doorbell rang.

"They're here! They're here!" called Libby, already racing to the door. Maureen got there a second before she did, reminding her that she shouldn't open a door without knowing who was on the other side.

He heard Maureen open the door, and only then he realized that he was nervous. It was silly, he knew. He remembered he loved Maureen's parents. They were nice and interesting. He remembered he talked with her father for hours after dinner on that day he went to Jersey with her. And if Maureen said they set that bet back then, there was nothing to worry about, right?

He just stood there, in the kitchen, giving them a chance to say hi to one another. He listened to the mixture of voices; Libby's constant giggling, Mr. Johnson's deep voice and Mrs. Johnson's singsongy accent. He remembered Maureen once told him her mother was originally from England, before she came to study at the States, where she met her future husband.

Mustering all his courage and reminding himself everything was okay, he left the kitchen and joined them. All but Libby got quiet when he walked in. They looked just as he remembered them; Mr. Johnson in a tweed jacket, his wife with her hair tied back in a tight bun. Well, a bit older maybe, but older in a good sense. This was the way he always hoped to grow old. Maureen approached him and slipped her hand in his.

"Mom, Dad, you remember Mark."

"Of course. Hello Mark, good to see you again," said Elizabeth Johnson, holding out her hand. He shook it and smiled, remembering the bet she set with her husband. He wished she would have told him years before it would all end up that way.

"It's good to see you too."

"What do you say, princess? Is he a nice man?" asked Richard Johnson, who didn't seem willing to let go of his little granddaughter, who was still in his arms.

Libby shook her head. She was smiling broadly. "He's my Daddy now, Grandpa!"

"Oh is that so? Then I'd say he's very lucky," said Maureen's father, looking straight into his eyes. "Great to see you again, Mark."

"You too, sir."

"You owe me 20 Dollars, you know."

"Daddy!" Maureen hissed furiously. He smiled when he realized that she was blushing. This was something he figured he'd have to get used to. Suddenly he wished that Roger and Collins were there. They wouldn't believe their eyes.

Richard burst out laughing as Maureen glared at him. "Just kidding, my dear," he assured her as he let go of Libby, who ran to her mother. After seeing that Maureen was well distracted, he turned to him suddenly, and winked. "Since it's been over 10 years, make it double." His eyes, pretty much like Maureen's, were sparkling with mischief.

"Richard, leave the boy alone," said Elizabeth, ushering her husband to the table that was set for five.

"I sit next to Grandpa!" stated Libby as they all took their seats.

Maureen smiled and turned to look at him. "You. Help me in the kitchen," she commanded softly, grabbing his arm.

He brought her hand to his lips, returning her smile. "As you wish."


Dinner was over hours ago, and they moved to the living room for coffee and cake. Libby was worn out and eventually drifted off to sleep on his lap. He caressed her hair absent-mindedly as he listened to Richard Johnson's story about a student of his. He knew he was being watched. They were careful and discreet but he still noticed them. Either Elizabeth or Richard were glancing at him every once in a while as if to check on him. Mostly they did it when he was talking to Libby or Maureen. He guessed they were just over-protective after the way Maureen's first marriage ended up. It didn't bother him. He didn't have anything to hide. He loved both of them so much.

"So. You will not get away with it, you two. Tell us how your paths came to cross once again," said Elizabeth. He flinched. Elizabeth Johnson had no way of knowing this, but these were his mother's exact words back then when he came over to talk to her. He couldn't help but think how different her tone was. Even though he anticipated her reaction, it still hurt. He wanted her to be happy for him.

"I have a gallery in New York. Maureen didn't know it was my gallery when she first got there. It was kind of weird, actually."

"Very weird," said Maureen.

Fuckin' weird, he thought, smiling to himself. "So anyway, this is how we first met. Then the next day we met again by accident, and happened to meet this little one as well," he looked down at Libby, who stirred in her sleep. He thought back of that afternoon at Bloomingdales, and the way he helped her to reach for that doll she wanted even before he knew who she was.

"Is that what you are doing those days? This gallery?"

"The gallery, and directing, when I get an interesting project. I also instruct some photography courses every now and again, and lately I joined a group that promotes the awareness for AIDS."

Richard Johnson looked impressed. So did his wife. He looked at Maureen, who was sitting across from him on an armchair. As their gazes locked, she flashed him an encouraging smile. Everything was going pretty well so far.

"Do your parents already know about you two? Maybe we should meet them, to discuss the wedding and everything," said Elizabeth, obviously unaware of his mother's reaction. He guessed Maureen didn't tell them about it.

How could he tell this nice woman that his mom hated her daughter, among other things because she wasn't Jewish? Luckily, Maureen was faster to respond. "Mom, there's nothing to discuss," she said seriously. "We don't want anything big or flashy or anything. Just us. Most of our friends are gone anyway," she ended quietly. He knew she missed them too.

It seemed as if her mother understood. She knew Collins and Roger from before, he knew. She must have been sorry to hear they were no longer with them. "Of course, darling. We'll do it your way."

"There's another thing that had just occurred to me," said Richard all of a sudden.

"What, Daddy?"

"Well, I was wondering how you were going to perform the service, with two different religions." He didn't sound as if he was criticizing them. More as if he was truly interested. Well, they actually thought about that one.

"We discussed that. Mark wants to go by the Jewish service and I have no problem with that, as long as you don't have any objection."

Richard looked at him questionably. "Is it possible? Legally speaking? Even though Maureen is not Jewish?"

"It is," he said. "People are doing this all the time, I have several friends how did."

"Well, I don't see a reason for us to have an objection. What do you say, Liz?"

"I agree. Wedding vows are wedding vows, no matter in which religion." He wished his mother could understand that. He detected a shadow that suddenly clouded Maureen's expression, and he knew she was thinking the same.


Maureen's parents left with a promise to come back the next day and pick Libby up so that she would spend the entire day with them. They left the dirty dishes in the sink, thinking they could take care of it the following morning. Maureen put Libby in bed while he turned off the lights and checked that the door was locked.

"I think my parents liked you," said Maureen jokingly as they crawled into bed couple of hours later. She laid her head on his chest.

"At least they won't stand in our way," he said kind of bitterly. He had no hopes he would be able to change his mother's mind.

She raised her head to face him. "Hey…" she started, gently touching his cheek.

"Just forget it."

She looked at him seriously. "Mark, don't let her spoil this for us, okay? You've done all you could. You know as well as I do that this was nearly hopeless."

"I know, it's just…" he sighed, his voice trailing off. He only told her briefly about what his mother said, and he only did that because she insisted. He never used his mother's exact words. Nor did he tell her what his mother said about Libby. Maureen didn't know he even mentioned her. She knew perfectly well what his mother thought about her; she didn't make a lot of efforts to hide it from her back then, when they first met. And still… he wasn't sure how Maureen would take it. She always acted as if she didn't give a damn for what other people were thinking, but he knew that she did.

She moved a bit so that her face was just above his. Even without his glasses on, she was still beautiful. "Mark, I love you," she said seriously. "Nothing of what your mom told you is going to change it. And I'll marry you with or without her consent. She'll just have to get used to the fact that her precious son is married to a drama queen Shiksa." He smiled in spite of himself. "Please stop thinking about it. Go to sleep," she said, leaning down to kiss him.

He closed his eyes and wrapped an arm around her as she laid her head again on his chest. He ran his hand up and down her back slowly. He was exhausted, still under the affect of the pills he took earlier that day, but he couldn't sleep. He sighed.

"What's wrong?" Maureen murmured.

"I can't sleep."

"Want me to tell you a bed-time story?" By the sound of her voice he knew she was smiling.

"I was thinking a lullaby."

"I don't know any."

"You have a five-year-old daughter and you don't know any lullabies?"

"Libby had to put up with my protests' lyrics, I'm afraid," she laughed softly.

"So will I, if I really have to."

For a moment he thought she didn't hear him, because she didn't say anything. He closed his eyes again, feeling himself dozing off, when she began to sing softly, huskily, "Only thing to do, only thing to do is jump, only thing to do is jump over the moon…"

He fell asleep in no time, a small smile curling on his lips.