Chapter Twenty One

"Right. Help me out here, baby, are we missing anything? Fruit salad?"

"Check."

"Orange juice?"

"Check."

"Blankets? Hats? Mark's sunscreen?"

"Check, check, check," said Libby, giggling excitedly. As if the notion of a picnic in Central Park wasn't enough of a thrill, they were meeting Benny and his family there for brunch. She figured it would be easier to meet for the first time in neutral territory, didn't think Alison would feel comfortable at their place yet (or vice versa, if she was being honest). Also, if Benny's sons were half as exuberant as Libby currently was, it was probably safest for everyone involved the kids would be out in the open, where it was less likely they would break something of value.

"Awesome. Go put your shoes on and I'll get Mark, we're running late. High five, Team Picnic!" She raised her hand to Libby who slapped her a high five before jumping off the counter, somehow landing safely on her feet. All morning the two of them were getting everything ready between work calls. It was something they used to do back in San Francisco, and as she was working intensely ever since they got to Manhattan, she found it crucial to spend some quality time one on one with her daughter. Mark couldn't join them anyway, as he shut himself in his study hours ago, finalizing things for the Life benefit which was to take place the following week. But it was getting late and she didn't know if he was even dressed. She double-checked everything they needed was in the huge bag she'd packed, then wandered across the living room to knock on his door. "Mark?"

There was a muffled come in coming from the other side. She pushed the door open; he looked up at her with the phone pressed to his ear. He smiled crookedly, but she saw right through it. Something was bothering him.

"Look, I gotta go," he told the person he was speaking to. "Yeah, exactly. You should go out too, the sun will do you good. Call me if you need anything, okay?" He listened for a second, then murmured goodbye and hung up with a sigh.

"What's wrong?" she asked, stepping inside. It used to be her favorite room in the apartment, with its shabby leather sofa, the hopeless mess on the desk and film reels in a box in the corner. Ever since the disastrous conversation she had with his mother, though, its glow had dimmed somewhat. She still couldn't go in there without shivering.

He swiveled in his chair a bit, as if he wasn't sure where to begin. "There's this guy in Life. He joined a couple of months ago. We kind of became friends over time. I'm worried about him."

She approached him, sitting on the edge of his desk as she took his hand. "Why?"

"He's HIV positive. Has been for some time. He seemed fine for a while, and then on our meeting last week, he said he wasn't feeling great. Then yesterday he didn't show up, and I thought..." His voice trailed off; the rest of the sentence was easy to deduce. He looked away for a second, then back at her. The sadness in his eyes was overwhelming. "It's like I can never stop it from happening."

She squeezed his hand encouragingly. "You can be there for him when it does, though. Sometimes that's more than enough." He hummed, unconvinced. "Is he okay?"

"Yeah, there was a delay on the subway and he ended up missing the meeting. You know me, though, I couldn't help thinking the worst has happened." He looked so upset. She leaned over to place a kiss on the back of his hand. Her mind wandered to Collins and Roger. She'd often wondered what it was like, towards the end, but she'd never dared asking. Although they had promised to never keep secrets from one another, this was different. It was so much more than just a secret; it was practically an open wound. She wasn't even sure she wanted to know the gritty details.

"Anyway, I'm guessing we're late," he said, offering a weak smile.

"Yes, Benny and Muffy will wonder where we are," she said with all the cheerfulness she could muster, bouncing off the desk like Libby had done in the kitchen, albeit much less gracefully.

"Alison, Maureen," he chided her, but couldn't maintain a straight face for long, especially not when she stuck her tongue at him. There was some accomplishment in making him properly smile.

"Mommy?"

"We're in here, baby!" Libby walked in, and Mark's smile widened just a tad.

"Did you take the kite we bought, Libby?" he asked her.

"The kite!" she said, slapping her forehead. She knew they'd missed something. "I think it's in our closet."

"I'll get it!" said Libby, rushing out of the room again. They heard her footsteps down the hall. She turned to face him, amused, only to catch him gazing out of the window distractedly.

"Hey, he'll be fine."

"Sorry," he smiled at her, and this time it seemed more genuine. "I wish you could meet him. He's such a great guy."

"I will meet him, at the benefit. Are you guys all set?"

"Finally, yes. Will your parents have Libby for the night?"

"Yes, and Arianna will cover for me in case of emergency at work. For one night only, I'll be all yours."

"For one night I won't have to share you with the entire Broadway community."

She rolled her eyes. "Umm, dramatic much, Mark? It's only two theaters."

"For now," he said with confidence.

"I love you for saying that," she murmured, pecking his lips before pulling him out of the room.

It felt rather awkward at first, although not for the kids. They ran about and disappeared almost immediately – even twelve-year-old Ben (Benjamin Coffin the Fourth, apparently it was a family tradition), whom she assumed would not be interested in the little ones' games. Between the kite and the boats Benny's sons had brought, the kids were plenty busy, and pretty soon it was just the four of them grownups. They found a shaded spot (otherwise Mark would melt, joked Benny) and set up everything. While Mark and Benny all but fell into each other's arms on first sight, Alison was sort of aloof at first, and really, she couldn't blame her. The last time their paths had crossed, she and Mark were all but sabotaging her father and husband's enterprise.

Although she and Mark went out of their way to make her feel included, for a while Alison seemed rather unsure about all this, scared even. Little by little, though, her voice had lost its hesitant tone, and at some point she even smiled. Her interaction with Benny was a sight to behold. She couldn't help but notice the way he took her hand absentmindedly and laced their fingers together mid-conversation. There was something sweet and intimate about it; she almost felt compelled to look away. Her gaze shifted to Mark, who now seemed more at ease himself. She caught his eyes and winked. She hoped his friend would be okay.

"So have you two set a date yet?" asked Benny.

"Well, it's getting dangerously close to be a summer wedding, an idea I absolutely abhor," she shuddered at the mere thought. She loved Manhattan with every fiber of her being, but the city during summertime could be a sweltering nightmare.

"To your question, no. You can see why," said Mark, rolling his eyes at her.

"Plus, the fact we've made zero plans as of yet."

"But it's happening," clarified Benny.

"It's happening," she confirmed, feeling herself blush.

"I keep thinking what Collins would have said about this," said Benny, chuckling.

"He would have said he's known all along," she replied, heart twitching. She missed Collins so much.

"Too right. Honey, maybe you can hook them up?" Alison seemed startled by the sudden attention. "Alison is actually a wedding planner."

Alison shook her head in protest. "I only started after New Year. I've been a stay-at-home mom for so long until I realized they didn't actually need me that much anymore, and this was something I've always enjoyed doing."

"How is it going so far?"

"Pretty well. I doubt I could hook you up though, most of my clients are the Park Avenue type and I doubt that's the direction the two of you want to go. I'll love to help any way I can though."

"Thank you. I'll let you know when we actually get into planning this beast."

In the distance, Ben was helping Scott and Libby operate the kite. The little ones squealed in delight as it caught a sudden gust of breeze.

"Does Libby like her new school?" asked Alison.

"Yes, thank goodness. I guess we've got Scott to thank for that."

"Likewise. He didn't really like this school until she joined the class."

"He was doing our heads in," added Benny. "And because I never saw Libby when I came to pick him up, I began to worry she was an imaginary friend."

"Oh my God, me too!" gasped Mark, and the two of them began to chuckle at their shared experience. She frowned and threw a pretzel at them. Benny grinned slyly, his eyes moving from Mark to her and back.

"So you're getting two for the price of one, huh?"

"Think carefully before you answer that," she warned Mark, but he didn't seem to be taking her too seriously.

"If she's as feisty as her mother over here, best of luck to you, Cohen."

"So we've got the meeting uptown tomorrow at ten, conference call back at the office at three, and what day is the dress rehearsal?"

"That's next Wednesday, I already put it in your schedule. There's also the tour in the factory next week."

"Let's get this week done with first, shall we?" She sighed wearily, and glanced at her phone. It was getting late. She turned off her laptop and began to pack her bag. "I'm off to meet my mom. Text me when the denim gets here so I can cross it off my list. And don't forget I have Mark's benefit on Saturday evening – "

"I set a reminder to forward all your calls to me."

"I don't know how I'd do it without you." She meant it. Arianna was an absolute godsend. And she used to think Kathleen was efficient, back in San Francisco.

"Are you going to look for dresses?"

"Not if I can help it," she replied tersely, rushing out with Arianna calling after her something in Spanish she couldn't decipher.

It was strange meeting with her parents mid-week, but that was one of the perks of them living pretty much only a river away. If he didn't get lost halfway there, her father was supposed to be meeting Mark to pick up Libby from school. She was to meet her mother at a café across the street from Carnegie Hall. She arrived breathless, and waved at her mother who was already seated, reading from a paperback.

"I was beginning to give up on you," said the older woman as she stood to greet her.

"Sorry, Mom."

"I don't need to ask how it's going at work; I can see it's quite hectic."

"As expected, really."

"So hectic you don't have time to eat?" Her eyebrow was raised with a hint of disapproval. She'd never told her parents about her last day at work in San Francisco, and all that had led to it. She thought they were better off not knowing. And she was getting better. She just didn't quite look it yet.

"Don't worry, Mom. Mark is looking after me like a hawk."

"I'm glad to hear it. Someone has to, apparently."

A waitress arrived and they ordered drinks. She asked for a slice of cheesecake as if to prove her point. "Have you spoken to Dad? Has he found Mark?"

"I believe so. He hasn't called in a panic, so he must have. He knows his way around the city better than he cares to admit, I suspect," said her mother, rolling her eyes fondly. "We're all meeting at your place later?"

"Yeah, we can have dinner."

"Didn't you want to look at dresses?"

"Not particularly." She chuckled darkly as she remembered her mad dash out of the office, a desperate attempt to avoid Arianna's wrath. "My assistant is constantly on my case about it, but it seems pointless to look at dresses when we don't even know when it's all happening."

She was embracing herself for another bout of hysterics about the need to get on with planning, but her mother just nodded calmly. "There's no rush. Whenever you're ready."

Well, that was refreshing. Even Tammy was beginning to look at them as if they were out of their minds for being so complacent. "Thanks, Mom."

"So, are you excited?" asked her mother once the waitress returned with their order, pouring milk into her tea.

"I don't think it's quite hit me just yet. Work is distracting."

"Mark is. I could see it when we were at your place on Libby's birthday."

She didn't doubt that for a second, but the conversation with his mother had left her annoyingly insecure. "This is really okay with you guys, isn't it?"

"What, the wedding?" She nodded, her eyes not leaving her mother's. "You love each other, don't you?"

"Of course."

"And you want to get married. Why does it matter if it's okay with us or not?"

It sounded so practical. And true, to an extent. There was still some comfort in getting a parent's blessing, a validation of sorts, confirmation this was not some colossal mistake. "It's just that... Some people see it rather differently."

"You mean Mark's mother?"

Her mother's intuition had never ceased to amaze her. "How did you – "

"The way you so ferociously jumped to his defense at the mere suggestion of us meeting his parents. As if you wanted to spare him the discomfort."

Her mother had always seen so much. She shook her head sorrowfully. "To say his mother is unsupportive would be a gross understatement."

"She'd always had a problem with you, I seem to recall."

"Maybe I was naive to think she would be over it after all these years. People change. Apparently, she hasn't, and she believes I didn't."

"Have you spoken to her?"

"Oh, have I," she chuckled bitterly. "She called our place by mistake a few weeks ago. I tried to reason with her. It only made matters worse."

"What's her problem?"

"Currently? Libby," she said through narrow eyes. As much as she tried to push away Mrs. Cohen's vicious words, they seemed to stick with her still. "She thinks she was the result of some drunken night or whatnot, which even if that were the case is none of her goddamn business."

"Didn't Mark tell her about…"

"Mark doesn't know the whole story. And even if he did, he was just looking for a way out. I don't blame him for telling her what he did. He understands what Libby means to me. His mother thinks she's my punishment."

Her mother visibly flinched. Libby was anything but that. "Oh, Maureen."

"It's okay. I don't care what she thinks. I just hate being the one who comes between Mark and his family, but I don't see any way around it. I don't know how to work this out."

"Is Mark having second thoughts?"

"I'm not forcing him into anything, if that's what you're implying, Mom."

"Oh, darling, of course not. It's just…" Her mother sipped her tea, then cleared her throat. "I guess I'm a little concerned because of… well, before." She could never bring herself to say his name again after he had walked out of their lives for good. Her parents had always been over-protective, but it seemed to intensify after the divorce was finalized, and even more so once Libby was born. "I just want to make sure it works out this time."

"I think it will. I know it will," she smiled, feeling new confidence. "We're meeting with Mark's lawyer next week to begin the adoption proceedings."

Her mother stared at her. "Adoption?"

"He's been looking into adopting Libby months ago. I hope that's confirmation enough about his feelings in all of this."

"Well," said her mother, her expression unreadable; "There's no wonder you haven't started planning anything with so much on your plate."

Some time later they hailed a taxi to take them back home. She opened the door to let her mother in. The older woman looked around and then back at her, nodding approvingly. A delicious smell wafted from the kitchen, and an unfamiliar song was playing in the background, and so she figured Mark didn't hear them come in. A tweed jacket was folded against the back of the sofa. The two of them exchanged an amused look at the sight of it. Not a moment later, her very breathless father, red in the face, came dashing into the living room, chasing after Libby, who was giggling madly. As soon as she noticed them standing there she halted.

"Grandma!" she shrieked, rushing into her grandmother's embrace.

"Hello, sweetheart. What trouble have you gotten your grandfather into?"

"We're just fooling around," he said defensively, then flashed an impish grin at her. "Maureen."

"Hi, Daddy," she stepped forward to peck his cheek and ruffle Libby's hair. And looking over her father's shoulder, there was Mark, standing there between kitchen and living room with a tea towel dangling from his shoulder. He smiled as their eyes met, and stepped further into the room.

Her mother's features softened when she noticed him. "Hello, Mark, how lovely to see you. I hope they're not wrecking your beautiful flat."

"Not at all, Mrs. Johnson."

"Mrs. Johnson? Absolutely not. You're practically part of the family now. Call me Elizabeth."

Mark's cheeks colored, and he nodded. Then he looked over his shoulder and smiled apologetically. "I'd better... I'll be right with you guys."

"Did you find it okay, Daddy?"

"I did, to my surprise. I don't know this part of town so well..." She and her mother exchanged knowing looks.

"I'll show you around, Mom."

"No, I'll show Grandma!" interjected Libby. "You can see the park from my room!"

"Is that right, little one? We'll have to see for ourselves, shall we?"

She looked after them, smiling, as they disappeared down the hall. Then she shed her jacket, leaving it next to her father's, before heading into the kitchen. Mark was engrossed in whatever the hell he was doing by the counter, swaying lightly to the music, and so he didn't notice her approach until she wrapped her arms around his waist.

"Don't I get a hello?" she murmured into his ear, and heard him gulp.

He had his back to her, but she could hear the smile in his voice when he replied, "I'm still trying to make a good impression on your parents."

"Well, they're not here right now, are they?" she asked, letting one hand drift to the top button of his jeans. She could feel his heart racing, and then he grabbed her wrist, gently yet persistently.

"Your mom will kick me out of the family after just having said I was part of it. Not to mention the fact your dad looks strong enough to kick my ass if I so much as – "

"Like I said, they're not here. Turn around and see for yourself." She gave his waist the tiniest squeeze. He gasped, but finally turned to face her. His cheeks were still flushed. She beamed at him. "Hi, you."

"Hi yourself."

"What are you cooking? It smells delicious."

"It's lasagna."

"Mmm… my favorite."

"I know. Don't distract me, then, if it stays in for too long it'll be ruined."

She gave him the best doe-eyed look. "Me? A distraction?"

His only reply was a chuckle. He placed his hand on her waist, gently pushing her backwards. She let herself be led, but for the control freak that she secretly was, it was extremely disorienting. She would bump right into the fridge if he kept it up.

And then her back did hit the fridge, and she realized that was exactly where he was headed. "It's hard to do this backwards," she noted.

A shadow of a frown crossed his face. He smirked, then replied, "You should try it in heels."

"What – "

"You don't want to know." He shook his head, then grinned at her. "How was your day?"

"Busy. The dress rehearsal is next week and there's still so much to do before we…" Words shifted into a soft moan as he pressed his lips to that spot beneath her ear. She grabbed his forearm, probably strong enough to leave a mark. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing," he replied, smiling angelically at her before resuming his ministrations.

"Now who's the distraction?" she murmured through hooded lids, throwing her head slightly backwards. A moment ago she thought he was being ridiculous, but now it occurred to her that her dad was strong enough to kick his ass were he to walk in the kitchen just now. And yet she couldn't bring herself to step away. She placed her hand against his cheek as he leaned in to kiss her again, and that was that.

Well, until she realized something wasn't quite right. Mark seemed to realize it at the exact same moment because he pulled away from her abruptly, his brow furrowed in confusion, then –

"Shit," he breathed, all but launching himself across the kitchen, somehow turning off the oven and opening its door in one motion. She watched with mirth the grayish-white smoke that emanated from within, and Mark's perplexed expression as he stared at it. He grabbed the oven mittens and took out the tray, his expression shifting from trepidation to dread. She joined him by the counter as they looked down at the ruined lasagna. Mark groaned. "Great. How will we explain this to your parents?"

Before either of them managed a reply, "Is something burning?" Her mother's voice echoed from the living room. She held back a giggle because Mark looked so utterly miserable. He glared at her, and she let it out.

"Come on, Mark, it happens for the best," she said comfortingly, because he seemed quite shaken. She reached for her phone. "Pizza it is then."

Before he could agree, her mother appeared in the doorway, her eyes darting between the two of them. "What's going on here?"

"A little cooking accident," she managed. Mark murmured something unintelligible and looked away, pretending to survey the damage, but she could tell he was blushing. "I was about to get pizza instead, is that okay?" she asked as they walked out to the living room, where her father was standing, carrying Libby on his shoulders.

"Maybe we could go out," he suggested. "I walked across a nice-looking bistro on my way over here."

"There's a gorgeous Italian restaurant just down the street," she said, glancing at Mark who joined them. "Okay?"

"Yeah, whatever you guys want." She was probably the only one who'd picked up on the bitterness his voice still carried. She sent off Libby to put her shoes on, and soon she and Mark were alone again. Mark had busied himself in pulling on his jacket. Still smiling, she walked over to him and helped him button it.

"What?" he grumbled adorably, refusing to make eye contact, but he couldn't fool her. She lifted up his chin, and sure enough, he was grinning back at her sheepishly.

"I love you," she told him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, before settling into his arms. Then, out of nowhere, she shuddered.

"What's wrong?" he asked, and she could feel his arms tighten around her.

"I don't know, I…" Her voice trailed off uncertainly as another chill ran down her spine. She was so utterly happy. The Life benefit would be over soon, and she would settle more comfortably into the responsibilities of her job, and they would finally set a date for the wedding. Mark would adopt Libby. Things could not possibly get any better.

So why this imminent sense of dread had suddenly settled in the pit of her stomach?