Chapter Fourteen

He woke up the next day not knowing where he was or how he got there. He vaguely remembered the rain resuming at some point of the night, but now pale sunlight streamed into the room through the curtains. This was definitely not his bedroom. The windows were on the wrong side and as much as he was encouraged to get in touch with his feminine side, he didn't own any floral bedding. Something smelled good, like frying or baking, but he couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, then ran a hand through his hair, although he knew it was hopeless. His head was pounding, and he felt this strange weakness all over. Even his eyes hurt.

As he put on his glasses and looked around the room, it all came rushing back to him, and a smile crept onto his lips. He was glad he had decided against telling Maureen he was coming over. Her expression when she noticed him sitting against her door was priceless. Being back with her was everything he'd yearned for, and more. He wished she could spend the evening with him and Libby; if he was being honest, he was a little apprehensive to be left alone with the little girl. He didn't even trust himself in the company of his niece and nephews back when they were Libby's age. What if she would resent her mother leaving? He had zero experience in abating temper tantrums.

As it turned out, though, there was no reason for concern; they spent a nice evening together. They had a tea party with her dolls, and afterwards he drew pictures for her to color, and showed her how to sign her name on them. At some point he raised his head from his sheet of paper and found her eyeing him curiously.

"What?" he asked her, smiling. She looked like a miniature version of Maureen, her dark hair streaming down her shoulders, her eyes gleaming in the yellow living room light.

"Can I ask you a question?" she asked kind of seriously.

"Sure, Libby. You can ask me anything." But he couldn't help feeling a little nervous. According to Cindy, kids Libby's age were infamous for their candid, on-point queries. Should he be on his guard?

"It's a secret."

"I won't tell anyone."

"Not even Mommy?"

"Not if you ask me not to."

That seemed to appease her. She scooted closer to him so she could whisper in his ear. "Are you my Daddy now?"

Wordlessly cursing his sister for knowing her stuff, he stared at Libby dumbfounded for a moment. What was he supposed to say? Yes, he was looking into the possibility of adoption with his lawyer, but he couldn't tell her that; surely not before he told Maureen. "Only if you want me to be," he said eventually. She nodded without breaking eye contact. "So yeah. I guess I'm your Daddy now," he told her, now somewhat relieved.

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

And if he assumed that was the highlight of the evening, he had another thing coming for him upon Maureen's return, when he learned her parents had placed a bet of them ending up together all those years ago. So yeah, as far as he was concerned, the weekend was already a success, even if he still felt like crap.

After a quick shower, which left him slightly more refreshed, he followed the smell into the kitchen, where he found Maureen and Libby having breakfast. Maureen smiled as she noticed him. "Good morning, sleepyhead." There was this glint in her eyes as she approached him. "You look tired. Someone exhausted you last night?" she asked slyly.

"Yeah. Someone." He leaned over to drop a kiss on her lips, then looked over her shoulder. "Good morning, Libby."

"Morning, Daddy." She giggled as he messed with her hair a bit, placing a kiss on the top of her head before sitting next to her. From the corner of his eye he noticed Maureen's hand freeze on the handle of the kettle. She recovered herself impressively fast, but he could see the questions in her eyes as she handed him a steaming mug.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like I was hit by a truck," he admitted. There was no point hiding it. The shower helped somewhat, but he was still feeling awful, and he was sure he looked it as well.

"Here, you should eat something. Eggs or birthday pancakes?"

"Birthday pancakes?" he asked in feigned surprise. "It isn't my birthday, Maureen."

"No, Mark, it's my birthday!" said Libby.

"Is it, really? I thought it's in two weeks."

"No, it's today!"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes!" she said, giggling. "Look, they're rainbow pancakes. Mommy made sprinkles inside."

"I'll have some eggs, thanks," he told Maureen. He wanted to tease Libby further, but suddenly he felt so dizzy. He buried his head between his hands and breathed slowly through his nose.

"Mark?"

He opened one eye; Maureen's face swam into focus. She was kneeling next to him. Libby was looking at him with concern. "I'm fine."

"Like hell you are. You're going back to bed."

He knew better than arguing with Maureen. He ate a little, then followed her back to her bedroom. "I wanted to help you cook," he protested miserably as she tucked him in. Libby walked in, carrying a glass of water and the box of Tylenol Maureen had sent her to find. She handed him both. "Thanks, Libby."

Maureen ran a hand through his hair. "Don't worry about it. Just rest."

"Mommy, can I watch TV now?"

"Sure, baby. Not too loud!" Maureen called after her as she ran out of the room. Then she looked back at him. "Okay?"

He took her hand and gave it a little squeeze. "I'm sorry."

She shook her head dismissively. "Take the Tylenol. You'll feel better in no time." She hesitated, and he guessed what she had wanted to ask. She had that look.

"She asked me yesterday if I was her daddy now. I really don't mind her calling me that, but if it bothers you – "

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

"Be careful, Miss Johnson, you'll catch a cold," he chided her as she slowly pulled away. It felt like the right time to tell her about his plans to adopt Libby. He put his finger under her chin, locking her eyes on his. "I need to tell you something."

But before she could even question his say, Libby was back in the room with a ringing cell phone in her hand, handing it to Maureen. "Thanks, baby." She glanced at the screen, then back at him, looking apologetic. "It's work, I have to..."

"Go ahead. I'll be fine." He could tell her later. It was probably for the best. He should really do it when he felt more like his old self again.

It was late afternoon when he next resurfaced. He lay on his back and stared at the ceiling. He couldn't believe he'd slept for so long. Cold medicine always did that to him; he felt as if he was floating. It was warm in Maureen's bed; the blanket wrapped around him like a hug. To his relief, he was feeling better. He didn't want to be stuck in bed when Maureen's parents arrived. Some first impression that would be. Just as he pondered getting out of bed, the door opened and Maureen sneaked in. She moved slowly, carefully, as if she didn't want to wake him. After opening and closing a few drawers in her dresser, she approached the bed and was about to lay a hand on his forehead, when she noticed his eyes were open.

"Shit, Mark, you scared me," she breathed.

"Sorry. What time is it?"

"A little after four. You look better."

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

"No, it's all done. Cake too," she smiled triumphantly. "I'm just on my way to take a shower." She winked at him. "Wanna join me?"

He sighed longingly. "I do, but it's probably best if I don't." He sat up, leaning against the bed board. "This is not how I planned out this weekend," he told her apologetically. He sure didn't mean to spend the precious little time they had together on sleeping.

"Mark, you're here. That's literally all I care about."

"I know, but..."

She silenced him with a soft kiss. "Stop... apologizing..." she murmured, trailing kisses along his jaw line. He closed his eyes, trying to resist her.

"Where's Libby?" he asked in attempted distraction.

"My parents picked her up hours ago." Her breathing was warm against the skin of his neck. "My offer for a shower still stands." She pulled away so she could grin at him naughtily as her fingers drifted underneath his tee shirt. The remainder of his assertiveness faded away as he leaned forward to kiss her fiercely.

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

He rolled his eyes at her. "As if someone has ever refused you before."

"Never," she replied, then pulled him out of bed.

He got dressed with extra care – dark jeans with a brown cardigan pulled over a white tee shirt. Maureen smiled in approval from across the room, then moved closer and straightened the cardigan over his tee shirt. Her burgundy oversized sweater brought out the green in her eyes and did wonders to her pallid skin.

"You look beautiful," he told her; he could never get enough of watching her blush.

"You don't look half bad yourself," she replied shyly, then chuckled. "I've never dreamt I'll say this to you. Back in the day it was as if you got dressed in the dark, but now... You can actually rock Geek Chic, who knew?"

"I'm sure there was a compliment in there somewhere."

"Stop stressing," she said, kissing his cheek. "They'll love you."

As Maureen ventured into the kitchen to check on the oven, he got himself busy with a more adult exploration of the small apartment. The previous day he was shocked to discover an enormous bookcase which occupied pretty much an entire wall. This was something he would never have associated with the old Maureen; as always, the change in her astounded him. The lower shelves seemed to contain all of Libby's books. The books on the higher shelves were organized by color, which was the coolest thing he had ever seen.

"I made you some more tea."

He jumped as Maureen's voice was suddenly behind him. She flashed him an apologetic grin and handed him a mug of tea. "Thanks."

"Do you want another pill?"

"Absolutely not. The last thing I want is falling asleep in your mom's lap, or worse yet, your dad's."

A shadow of a smile hovered over her lips as if the mental image amused her.

"I love this," he said, nodding towards the bookcase. "You'll have one hell of a task when you guys move in."

"Don't I know it," she sighed wearily, as if thinking of the challenge ahead. "Oh hey, what did you want to tell me?"

"What?"

"This morning. You said you needed to tell me something."

For a moment he didn't understand what she was talking about. The entire morning was a blur, if he was being honest. Unless she meant... "Oh. Right. Yeah, I – "

The doorbell rang. He started, then held on to his mug. Maureen giggled nervously, then excused herself and went to get the door. He turned his back so he could place the mug someplace safe, also wishing to give the family a bit of privacy. It was as if the volume in the previously quiet room intensified in an instant. Libby was like a little rocket, everywhere at once, excitable by the notion of her birthday. Maureen hugged each of her parents in turn, and he took the opportunity to take a deep breath and remind himself there was nothing to be scared of.

They looked just as he remembered them; Mr. Johnson had on a tweed jacket, his wife's hair was pulled back in an elaborated plait. Well, they were a bit older maybe, but older in the best way. This was how he had always hoped to grow old. Maureen approached him and slipped her hand in his, flashing an encouraging grin at him.

"Mom, Daddy, you remember Mark."

"Of course. Hello, Mark, it's so lovely to see you again," said Elizabeth Johnson, holding out her hand. Originally coming from England, her voice still carried that hint of British accent, one he was always secretly sorry Maureen hadn't inherited.

He shook her hand, remembering the bet she had placed with her husband. If only she had told him years before it would all end up this way. "It's great to see you too."

"Maureen said you're a bit under the weather. Are you feeling any better?" There was genuine concern in her eyes; he was touched.

"Much better, thanks. The girls took great care of me." He held out his hand for Richard Johnson a little fretfully. "Good to see you again, sir."

"And you, Mark. You owe me a twenty, you know."

"Daddy!" Maureen hissed furiously, blushing yet again. He figured he would have to get used to this. Suddenly he wished Roger and Collins had been there. They wouldn't believe their eyes.

Richard burst into hearty laughter, undeterred by his daughter's glare. "I'm only kidding, of course." But as soon as Maureen's attention was diverted, he leaned towards him and winked. "Since it's been over a decade, make it double." There was a glimmer of mischief in his eyes, hazel like Maureen's. So long as you don't loathe me for marrying your daughter, I'll pay you whatever you want, he thought wordlessly, bitterly, trying hard to keep his own mother out of his mind.

"Richard, leave him alone," said Elizabeth, shaking her head in dismay.

"Daddy, how about helping Libby with her bath?" Maureen interjected. He heard a lot about how her dad had doted on Libby, and it seemed the sentiment was mutual. Libby grabbed her grandfather's hand and pretty much towed him down the hall before he'd managed to even give his consent.

"Clever move, darling," said Elizabeth, then smiled at him apologetically. "He's just bitter about losing. You'd think he would know never to bet against me by now."

"How about we quit this talk of betting altogether now, shall we?" asked Maureen. He could tell the idea still horrified her. He couldn't help but feel amused by the whole thing. If nothing else, it was comforting. At least someone had faith in them from the very beginning.

As dinner progressed, he was beginning to feel like his old self, thankfully. He took endless pictures as Maureen brought forward the cake, and they sang for Libby and had her make a wish. Maureen had actually nailed the cake – she was practically glowing with her success. Soon afterwards they moved to sit in the living room, and Libby drifted off to sleep with her head in his lap. He caressed her hair absentmindedly as he listened to Richard's story about a student of his. He knew he was being watched. They were discreet, but he still noticed them. Every now and again Elizabeth or Richard would steal a glance at him as if to check on him, mostly during any sort of interaction with Maureen or Libby. He couldn't really blame them. Maureen was their only daughter; it made sense for them to be so protective given the way her first marriage had ended. It didn't bother him. He had nothing to hide.

"So. You will not get away with it, you two. Tell us how your paths came to cross once again."

He winced. Elizabeth had unknowingly repeated his mother's exact words. He couldn't help but think how different her tone was. There was not a hint of malice in her query. Despite his many attempts to push it out of his mind, he was still hurt by his mother's reaction. He just wanted her to be happy for him.

"Maureen visited my gallery in Manhattan, only she didn't know it was my gallery at the time. It was kind of weird, actually."

"Very weird," said Maureen.

Fuckin' weird, he thought, smiling to himself. "Then the next day we met again completely by chance, and I happened to meet this little one as well," he looked down at Libby, who stirred in her sleep. It felt as if eternity had passed since that afternoon at Macy's.

"And what is it you do these days?"

And so he told them about the gallery and the photography workshops, about Life. Normally speaking about himself made him feel self-conscious, and so he tried to do it as little as possible, but these were special circumstances, and he found himself desperate for their approval. Both Maureen's parents seemed impressed with his accomplishments. It seemed Maureen thought so as well, for she winked at him from her seat across from him.

"Perhaps we should meet your parents, to discuss wedding plans with them."

"Oh," he said, caught off-guard. "Umm, my dad passed away a few years ago. And my mom, well..." He let his voice trail off helplessly. How was he supposed to tell this nice woman his mother loathed her daughter and resented this wedding with all her might?

Luckily, Maureen's interjection was swift. "Mom, there's nothing to discuss." She had that resolute tone, the one he heard her use on people from work. The one she used on him all those years ago. "We don't want any fanfare. Most of our friends are gone anyway."

The sadness in her eyes was overwhelming. She must have brought her parents up to speed on Collins and Roger's passing, for Elizabeth nodded somberly. "Of course, darling. We'll do it your way."

"Something has just occurred to me," said Richard all of a sudden.

"What, Daddy?"

"I was wondering about the service. Mark is Jewish, you're not." There was curiosity in the comment rather than criticism.

"Honestly, I'll be fine with City Hall, as long as we get it done. But Mark wants a proper Jewish wedding, so we're looking into it."

"If it's okay with you," he added hurriedly, suddenly fearing he had overstepped his position.

"If you find a Rabbi who's willing to officiate, I don't see why not," replied Richard.

Elizabeth nodded her agreement. "Wedding vows are wedding vows."

He breathed a sigh of relief, wishing his own mother were as open-minded. He detected a shadow that suddenly clouded Maureen's expression, and he knew the same thought had crossed her mind.

"That went well, I think," Maureen beamed at him as they crawled into bed some time later.

"At least your parents won't stand in our way." He couldn't help sounding bitter. The warmth and acceptance of her parents made his mother's antagonism all the more poignant.

Maureen raised her head to face him, gently touching his cheek. "Hey…"

"Just forget it."

He could barely look at her, but she wasn't having it. She placed her finger underneath his chin, making him face her. Even in the dark, he could detect the seriousness of her stare. "Mark, please don't let her ruin this for us. You've done all you could. We both know it was a hopeless case."

"I know, it's just…" he let his voice trail off, then sighed. He only told her briefly what his mother had said, and only because she insisted. He left out each and every one of her insults, and he definitely didn't tell her what his mother had said about Libby. And looking up at her now, he knew he would never be able to. He could never hurt her like that.

"Mark, I love you," she told him earnestly. "Nothing of what your mother told you is going to change that. And I'll marry you with or without her consent. At some point she would have to come to terms with her precious son marrying a drama queen Shiksa." He smiled despite himself. "Please stop thinking about it. Go to sleep," she whispered, leaning down to kiss him.

He closed his eyes and wrapped an arm around her as she lay her head against his chest. He ran his hand up and down her back slowly. Even though he'd spent most of the day sleeping, he was exhausted, and the pill he'd taken half an hour ago was beginning to kick in. Nonetheless, his mind was too alert to fully give into its affect.

"What's wrong?" asked Maureen, a soft murmur in the darkness.

"I can't sleep."

"Want me to tell you a bedtime story?" There was a smile in her voice.

"I was thinking a lullaby."

"I don't know any."

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

"Shocking, isn't it? Libby had to put up with show tunes and old protest lyrics. I think she turned out okay, regardless."

"Fine, let's try those, then."

For a moment he thought she didn't hear him, or simply fell asleep, because she didn't say anything. His eyes fell close, and he could feel himself doze 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.