I'm so sorry for the long delay in updating this story. It wasn't my intention to have it go so long, but well, writing is difficult. I just want to say thank you to all of you who have continued to show an interest in this story, thank you to those who left comments and messages even when months had gone by with no update. To know you were still interested was a huge encouragement. I have every intention of finishing this story – it just may take longer than we all would like. Thanks again for reading.

Marital bliss Abigail had said. Helena isn't so sure spending hours packing boxes with various items of her apartment can be construed as such. And yet, Myka is with her to help, looking beautiful even in a simple t-shirt and ragged jeans, her hair loosely tied into a ponytail as she carefully removes books from shelves to place in boxes.

"Helena? What is this?" Myka asks holding up a pile of papers, tied with twine, dog-eared and riddled with notes.

Viewing the object in Myka's hands, Helena's eyes widen and she takes a step forward, attempting to take the papers from Myka but she isn't given the chance when Myka takes a corresponding step backward, a grin forming on her face as she reads the title page. "'Stargazers: by Helena G. Wells'. You wrote a novel?" she asks stunned. "How did I not know about this?"

Helena tucks a strand of hair behind her ear before folding her arms across her chest. "Because I wrote it many years ago. Even attempted to have it published, if you can imagine," she says with a strained laugh.

"What happened?" Myka asks gently though she's pretty sure she knows the answer.

"No one wanted to publish it. Not that I can blame them, it's pure drivel."

"I highly doubt that."

"You shouldn't," Helena responds, moving on to pack another box.

"May I read it?" Myka asks quietly.

Helena looks up surprised. "I don't know why you'd want to."

"Because you wrote it," Myka answers as if it should be obvious.

Helena shrugs, trying to settle the rising flutter in her stomach at the thought of Myka reading words she wrote years ago, not sure whether the sensation is built on nerves of anxiety or anticipation. Likely both. She is torn between wanting, needing to let Myka see this part of her and also terrified. "You may if you like, but I'm afraid it will only be a waste of your time," she warns.

"It won't be a waste of my time, Helena," Myka smiles, holding the pages reverently in her hands, looking as if she'd love nothing more than to sit down and devour it on the spot. Instead, she places it carefully in a box on top where she can easily pick it up once they return home.

Helena clears her throat from the rising emotion and turns away to look about the disarrayed apartment. "I don't know how I've managed to accrue so many items in my three years here," she shakes her head with an air of defeat at the work still left to do.

Myka laughs. "You're human, it's what we apparently do, collect things to fill up spaces. It really isn't too bad," she says looking around the room. "Most of your things are books, easy to pack up and move."

"And the bookshelves to hold them?"

"Those won't be as easy," she concedes, running a hand along her brow.

"I can't possibly attempt to move them," Helena bemoans.

"I wouldn't expect you to."

"And I don't want you to move them either, Myka," Helena says sternly, knowing the taller woman is contemplating just that.

"We'll hire movers then," Myka answers resolutely. "I hate to think of the expense of that though, especially knowing Pete would help us move at the low cost of a couple pizzas."

"And cookies," Helena adds with a smile.

"And cookies." Myka agrees, carefully arranging another stack of books inside a box to set by the door.

"Which leads me to ask, what should we tell Pete and the others about our new living arrangement, should they happen to discover it?"

Myka sighs picking up a small crystal apple being used as a bookend and stares at it thoughtfully, biting her lip as she contemplates the question. "I haven't exactly figured out what we'll tell Pete and the rest yet. Because even if I can come up with some excuse why we're sharing an apartment, I haven't been able to come up with a reason for sharing a bed," she laughs nervously, diverting her eyes from Helena's astute gaze, choosing instead to focus her attention on carefully wrapping the apple in tissue paper.

"Perhaps we should just tell them all we are married," Helena suggests causing Myka to look up from her task in surprise.

"What?"

"We've already created one lie. I just think it will be easier sticking to that one rather than trying to create a separate lie for our friends and coworkers."

"And you think they'll just go along with that and believe we got married so suddenly after what, secretly dating?" Myka huffs.

"Why not? Your family did," Helena points out.

"Helena, we hardly see my family. We see Pete and Leena and the rest of them five days a week, sometimes more. They know us."

"I'm not saying they won't be a little surprised by our sudden marriage, but they're our friends, so I'd imagine once they get over the initial shock, they'll be nothing but supportive."

Myka recalls her brief conversation with Pete at the office regarding her relationship with Helena. "You're probably right about that actually, considering Pete already told me he expects to be my best man at our wedding," she confesses.

"What?" Helena asks completely flummoxed. "When did all this come about?"

"A week ago Friday when I told him we aren't dating after he told me the talk around the office is that we are." A brief silence descends and Myka can feel her heart begin to race within her chest in anticipation of Helena's reaction to that bit of information.

After a momentary loss for words, Helena repeats slowly as if trying to understand each word, "They think we're dating?"

Myka nods helplessly, unable to meet Helena's gaze.

Helena is startled by the information, though she supposes she really shouldn't be. Their friends are observant, even Pete with his childish ways, has vibes that can be uncannily perceptive about some things. Likely Helena's desire for something more than friendship with Myka is evident on her face when she so much as looks at the woman. How could it not be? Myka is stunningly beautiful, mind, body and soul. Only Myka remains unaware or rather unwilling to see Helena's desire, seemingly content with their relationship as it is. Any subtle attempts Helena has made over the years to initiate something more between them has failed miserably. Myka just isn't interested.

"Well then," Helena says a little too brightly, "our marriage won't seem so unfounded after all and they'll be more likely to accept it."

"Except I lied to Pete," Myka groans in frustration.

"No you didn't. You told him we weren't dating, that was true."

"Not if we're going to tell him we're married now. The implication being that we had to be dating at some point."

"Myka, do you want to just tell Pete the truth of the matter? I'd be alright with that if you do."

Myka shakes her head. "I don't want him to be involved in this. I don't want him to risk getting into any kind of trouble with Immigration Services. Besides, you know Pete, he'd try to help sell our case only to manage saying the wrong thing at the wrong time to the wrong person and we'd all end up behind bars."

"Yes, that is probably accurate," Helena sighs.

"Besides," Myka continues, "it just means more explanations when we get the marriage annulled. It's already going to be difficult enough trying to explain to my family why our marriage didn't work out, I don't want to have to explain it to our friends too."

"Yes, of course, the annulment," Helena agrees, her thumb absently grazing her wedding ring at the thought.

"Isn't that still the plan?" Myka asks biting her lip with an outrageous, fleeting hope that Helena doesn't want an annulment after all but maybe instead wants to pursue this…whatever it is between them. "I mean, once Immigration Services is satisfied we haven't broken the law," she laughs nervously.

"Absolutely, the plan is still in place," Helena quickly answers. "And you're right, it would be better to keep our marriage as quiet as possible, avoiding any unnecessary complications."

Myka nods resolutely, the earlier hope vanishing. "And it's not like our friends are in the habit of coming by either of our apartments without notice anyway."

"Except you told me Pete dropped by your apartment the night before we were married," Helena points out.

"Only because he was worried about me," Myka protests.

"And what about the movie nights we all take turns hosting?"

"Pete is the only one who might come by unexpectedly, the others only come over when invited, so we just don't host movie nights for a couple months, hopefully enough time for Abigail to determine there is no case against us."

"And you don't think Pete will notice the extra furniture in your apartment if he does happen to come by unannounced?" Helena prods.

"He's Pete," Myka shrugs. "The only thing he's likely to notice is how much food is in the fridge."

Helena has to once again concede that assessment is probably accurate. "Fair enough."

Myka sighs. "Anyway, it's just for a couple months. What we really should be concerned about is convincing Abigail we married for love and not for your citizenship. Once we do that, our problems should fall away."

"Of course," Helena agrees tossing a book rather carelessly into another box. Everything will fall away then, she thinks.


They work all morning, cleaning, sorting items, packing clothes, books and various trinkets Helena has collected. Aside from the furniture, most of Helena's belongings are neatly packed in the back of Myka's Jeep ready to be taken to her apartment to then be unpacked. Already tired, Myka nearly groans aloud at the thought of having to do everything they've done this morning in reverse once they return to her apartment. Moving is such a pain.

"Helena, is this box going too?" Myka asks from the doorway, slightly out of breath from her latest trek to the Jeep and back.

Helena glances briefly at the small box before looking away. "That's up to you, Myka."

"Why is it up to me? What's in it?" she asks confused, seeing apprehension in Helena's eyes when she finally looks up again.

"Mostly trivial things really," Helena tries to brush off.

"Okay, you're being cryptic," Myka accuses with a nervous laugh.

"I suppose I am," Helena sighs as she walks towards the box, removing its lid to reveal several items. A bright red scarf, a stainless steel travel mug, a battered copy of "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy", a small opened bag of white chocolate truffles, (a candy Myka knows Helena dislikes), and a faded grey t-shirt with the words "Keep Calm and Dream On". A shirt that is so overly large it can only be worn as a sleep shirt and since Myka knows now what Helena sleeps in…

"Oh," Myka breathes in realization, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. She knows now what this box is, what it represents. The realization is only confirmed when she watches Helena reach into the box to pull out a few loose photographs, briefly thumbing through them with an expression on her face Myka can't quite decipher. Is it pain, regret?

After a quick glance, Helena lets the photos fall back into the box, hastily replacing the lid. Clearing her throat, she states simply, "As you've likely gathered, these are a few of Giselle's things she left behind."

Myka swallows hard, trying to tamp down the unpleasant coiling in her stomach. "It's been weeks since you…I mean she hasn't asked for them back after all this time?" she asks perplexed.

"No. I thought she would have by now, but no," she smiles wanly. "I would just as soon get rid of them, but well, the book has a sentimental value to her, you know how that is, and I didn't want to dispose of it knowing that one day she will want that back if nothing else. And if she asks for the book to be returned, it seems like I should have the other items on hand for her as well…" Helena rambles looking uncomfortable by the entire ordeal, her eyes searching Myka's, pleading for to understand and mercifully end her rambling.

Myka nods, she does understand. Helena still cares for Giselle, of course she does. She vaguely wonders what items of Helena's are in Giselle's possession but quickly pushes the thought away not wanting to know.

"Right," she manages to breathe at last. "It's a small box, I'm sure we can find a place for it in my apartment. There's probably room on a shelf in the hall closet where you can store it."

Helena relaxes only minutely, grateful for Myka's acceptance of the situation but also aware of the way Myka rubs at her neck, her body rigid.

"Thank you, Myka," she says sincerely. "I know I've already asked so much of you, to add this is…"

"Not a big deal," Myka interrupts with a resigned shrug of her shoulders. "Let's just finish up here. I think we've done enough for one day."

"Of course," Helena responds quietly, the regret in her eyes evident if Myka would only look. But Myka turns away from the woman she's in love with, at the moment too afraid her own eyes will expose the pain she feels. Gathering one last box, Myka steps out of the apartment, Helena following silently behind with the little box clutched in her arms.


They are both exhausted by the time they return to Myka's (their) apartment after hours of work. Myka collapses onto the bed, legs and arms sprawled out as she exhales a long sigh, her aching body appreciating the comfort of the mattress.

"You really should have allowed me to help you more. I can't believe you insisted on doing all the heavy lifting to carry my things," Helena admonishes her eyes wandering over Myka's form, taking in a dust-streaked face and eyes drooping with fatigue.

"And risk you to hurting yourself further? I don't think so. You're still healing, Helena," Myka says tiredly, her eyes drifting closed.

Helena purses her lips knowing Myka is right. Her back is certainly better than it was a week ago, even days ago, but it is still tender, still mending. "Well then, is it all right if I shower first?"

Without opening her eyes, Myka nods. "I can use a moment to rest. Just please be careful."

It's a plea Myka hasn't failed to express every time Helena does take a shower. Helena would roll her eyes at the plea, finding it a nuisance coming from anyone else, but she knows how sincerely Myka means it. "I'll be careful and I won't be long," she promises.

Helena doesn't linger in the shower, only long enough to soothe the minor ache in her back, the warm water offering just the right amount of relief. Once finished, she pulls on her robe and steps into the bedroom, intending to find something more substantial to wear, but finds instead Myka curled onto her side, sound asleep on the bed.

Drawn to the sleeping woman, Helena can't help the soft smile that forms on her lips watching Myka in sleep. Myka's lips are slightly parted to draw in breath, one arm tucked against her chest, the other lying loosely along the pillow and brunette curls at last let loose from the confines of a ponytail earlier, cascade wildly about her face.

Myka worked so hard all morning, packing boxes and carrying them down the elevator to load into her Jeep, time and again with little complaint. Helena can't believe how fortunate she is to have a Myka in her life. Lifting a stray curl from Myka's face, Helena's thumb gently caresses the soft skin of her temple, drifting down to brush over the beauty mark high on her cheek.

She very nearly leans down to brush her lips against the enticing mark, but catches herself before she can follow through on the desire to feel soft skin beneath her lips. Helena steps away on a sigh, leaving Myka alone to her dreams.


The apartment is quiet when Myka stumbles out of bed hours later. It's only after showered and dressed in clean clothes that she hears the soft jazz music filtering down the hall where she stops abruptly at the sight of Helena sitting on the floor of the office, boxes, books and papers strewn all around her in a glorified mess.

"Helena?" Myka asks quietly from the doorway.

Glancing up at the sound of her name, Helena takes in the sight of Myka now dressed in a clean t-shirt and leggings, her curls still damp from her shower. "Myka," she greets fondly. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah. Sorry I slept so long."

"Nonsense, you needed the rest after working so hard."

"It looks like you've been working hard too. What have you been up to?"

"Organizing; or at least making the attempt to. I also took some measurements and though it will be a tight fit, I'm fairly certain with a little rearranging my desk should be able to fit in this room too. That is if you're still alright with that?"

"Yeah, of course," Myka answers with a quick rub at still tired eyes.

"Good," Helena nods. "The bookshelves however are another matter. There isn't room in here for them too, so they'll have to go in the living room. Or if absolutely necessary, I suppose I could try selling some of my books."

"Absolutely not. You're keeping your books, we'll make room for them," Myka says adamantly, stepping further into the room to sit down on the floor beside Helena.

"Married me for my book collection, I see," Helena quips with a grin.

Myka just shakes her head, ignoring the tease. "One can never have too many books. Room for those books however," she sighs.

"Indeed," Helena replies smiling, grateful for the easy banter falling between them especially after the earlier tension the morning brought.

"You haven't been doing any heavy lifting have you?" Myka asks glancing around the disheveled room at boxes that litter the floor.

"I promise you I haven't done any lifting. Pushing boxes across the floor with my foot, perhaps," she says with a shrug in the interest of full disclosure.

"Helena," Myka groans. "Didn't I tell you not to do anything to risk hurting your back further? You should have waited for me."

"Myka, you already did more than enough for me this morning. I promise you I was careful and no harm has been done."

Myka frowns but refrains from commenting further, instead beginning to help sort through boxes.

"I must say, you certainly are organized," Helena says gazing about the room where Myka's bookshelves are sorted alphabetically by author and her desk is neatly arranged with not so much as a pen out of place. "I hope it won't be such a shock for you when I move my desk in here with all the chaos that brings."

"I work with you, Helena, I'm used to it," Myka deadpans earning a mock glare from Helena.

"I suppose that's fair," she sighs. "I'll try to be tidier, for your sake."

"Says the woman who practically has to have every cooking utensil, pot, pan, bowel and ingredient set on the kitchen counter all at once when she cooks," Myka laughs, shaking her head equally exasperated and amused.

"I like to be well prepared while I cook," Helena protests.

"I know, Helena. Just be you. I know you and how you work and how to work with you…or live with you as the case may be. Don't change a thing," Myka says sincerely as she reaches across the space between them to give a gentle squeeze to Helena's arm before returning to the task of sorting boxes.

Helena doesn't anticipate the strong pull in her stomach Myka's words and touch bring. Myka is the only person she knows who accepts her just as she is, flaws and all, and seemingly likes her for them. It's a bit overwhelming and she rises unsteadily to her feet, trying to concentrate on the soothing strains of the saxophone and piano music still playing, rifling through the papers on Myka's desk just as a distraction from the emotions rising within her.

Helena is startled from her thoughts as her fingers come in contact with a notebook. "Myka, what is this?" Helena asks beginning to leaf through it.

Looking up from her work, Myka's eyes widen in panic at sight of the book in Helena's hands. She moves quickly from the floor snatching the book from Helena. "It's nothing," she says clutching the notebook to her chest.

"Clearly," Helena replies sarcastically, her brow lifting with amusement. "Myka?" she gently prods for an explanation.

"Really, it's nothing interesting."

"I think we both know if that were true, you wouldn't be holding onto it so tightly, protesting so much."

Myka sighs resignedly. "Fine. It's not nothing, but it's just scraps of paper, pictures."

"Of?"

When Myka doesn't elaborate, Helena slowly steps forward.

"Okay, I guess since you're going to let me read your manuscript, it's only fair I share this with you. Just, please don't laugh?"

"Myka, you know I would never laugh at you," Helena says, gently prying the notebook from Myka's arms with ease. Myka watches intently as Helena flips through the pages. Pages that are full of pictures of houses, exterior designs, landscapes, and interior designs of kitchens, bathrooms, bedrooms, living rooms and so on.

"What is all this?" Helena asks looking up at Myka confused, noticing the way she bites at her lip anxiously. "Are you looking to purchase a house?"

Myka bites her lip in contemplation, studying Helena's curious face for several long seconds. "The thought has crossed my mind," she finally admits. Helena gives her a pointed stare. "Fine, more than crossed my mind."

"Why haven't you ever mentioned you wanted to buy a house before?"

"Because it isn't a big deal. I didn't even realize I wanted a house until one day I was organizing these scraps of paper I'd collected into a notebook. I've lived in apartments my entire life and I've been fine with that. Still, a part of me would like something more. To have a nice yard, big enough for a dog to run around in – maybe with some trees."

"A dog?" Helena asks, brows lifting with surprise.

"Yeah…maybe," Myka shrugs self-consciously. "I just think it would be nice to come home to someone."

"You have me to come home to now," Helena points out.

Myka feels her breath catch in her throat with that outrageous hope again, but then remembers the small box sitting in the hall closet. And however intimate their days spent together may feel to Myka now, those generic items in that little box bespeak of another intimacy Helena felt for someone else not too long ago and possibly still feels.

"For now, yes. But that won't always be the case, will it?" Myka asks green eyes searching Helena's brown ones.

"I suppose not," Helena says glancing away and Myka swallows down her disappointment at the concession.

"Anyway, I've always thought having a dog would be…comforting," Myka continues. "I wanted one when I was a kid, to have a loyal friend like I was sure a dog would be, but my dad didn't think it would be a good idea when we didn't have a yard. The same reason I'm keeping myself from getting a dog now," she muses. "And, as for a house, it's only me, so even though I can probably afford to buy a house, it still seems a bit…excessive for just one person," she says folding her arms across her chest.

"Myka, if a house is something you want, that you would love, it's not excessive. You should never be ashamed or embarrassed to want something that will make you happy," Helena says emphatically.

Myka nods. "I'm trying to come to terms with that."

"And this notebook?" she questions.

"Ideas," Myka shrugs, "for what I would like my home to look like, the kind of kitchen cabinets I'd like, countertops, the flooring, what kind of furniture, that sort of thing."

"So you'd like to build a custom home?"

Myka smiles wide at the thought. "I would love to have a custom home built, but finding property that's affordable and have enough to build my dream home is proving to be difficult. I'll probably just end up buying something I can work with – refurbish it if need be."

The thought occurs to Helena that together they could build that dream home, but she pushes the thought aside as soon as it comes. She may be married to Myka now, but it won't be forever as Myka only reiterated moments ago.

"Well, whatever the house is, I'm sure it will be lovely, Myka because you'll make it a home for you and whomever you share it with," Helena says softly not really wanting to visualize Myka sharing a home with anyone…that isn't her. "I just hope I shall always have a welcome place beside your hearth," she says a little too brightly.

"You know you will," Myka responds, unable to voice her desire that Helena have a permanent place beside that hearth.

"Good," Helena smiles before quickly turning away to begin sorting and organizing again.


Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, Myka tries to tame her curls into some semblance of order but her task is forgotten the second Helena breezes in to stand beside her at the mirror, leaning forward over the sink to touch-up her make-up. Myka forgets taming her curls altogether at the sight of Helena wearing a soft blue cashmere sweater, the v-neckline plunging just low enough to reveal a hint of cleavage.

Myka feels her face flush and forces her gaze away. "That's what you're wearing to dinner?" she asks, her throat dry.

Helena looks down at her attire, smoothing down black slacks. "Is it alright? Would you rather I wear a dress?"

"No…yeah…I mean," Myka takes a frustrated breath, "that sweater looks good on you, Helena. It reminds me of the sweater you wore the first time I brought you to my parents' home for dinner."

Helena's dark eyes sparkle at the admission. "I thought you'd notice that little detail."

Myka's eyes widen in surprise. "It's not the same sweater is it?"

"No," Helena laughs lightly, "That one unfortunately didn't survive the night, or rather didn't survive the red wine."

Myka looks chagrined, remembering her embarrassment from that night. The way she'd been so distracted that she'd tripped carrying a glass of red wine, spilling it over the very cause of her distraction; Helena in that blue sweater.

"But since you seemed to like that sweater so much, I decided to acquire a similar one to wear this evening as a sort of a homage to that first dinner with your family, and now tonight the first dinner with them as your wife."

Myka doesn't know what to say in response and aware that Helena is watching her through the mirror, she quickly draws the brush through her hair again for something to do, trying not to wince when the bristles snag on a curl.

"You look lovely, Myka," Helena says taking in Myka's own sweater of deep purple with a scooped neckline that reveals the soft swell of her breasts. "Very lovely," she says her eyes lingering longer than they probably should.

"Thanks," Myka smiles self-consciously. Setting down the brush she intends to reapply a little blush to her cheeks but a quick glance in the mirror at a face already flushed she decides she likely won't need any more blush tonight. Instead she grasps lip-gloss, focusing her attention on applying it to her lips trying to ignore the fact Helena stands just beside her. Helena who is now leaning across Myka, her arm brushing along Myka's and her beautiful face so close as she reaches across the sink to grasp a bottle of perfume. As Helena pulls back, lightly dabbing her wrist with the perfume, the scent that wafts through the room is as soft and intoxicating as Helena is and Myka can't ignore the way her stomach pulls pleasantly at the sweet fragrance she has long come to associate with Helena.

"Sorry," Helena apologizes as she reaches across Myka again to put the bottle back in its place. "It's a bit cozy in here, isn't it?" she smiles.

"Yeah it is," Myka breathes still clutching the lip-gloss in her hand. She laughs lightly. "If I had a house, we'd likely have a master bathroom with two sinks so we could each have our own space. I mean hypothetically speaking. Not that you and I would…or wouldn't…"

"Of course, I know what you mean," Helena interrupts. "A master bathroom would afford us enough room that we wouldn't get in each other's way, hypothetically speaking."

"You're not in my way, Helena," Myka is quick to refute. "And there's something to be said for sharing a small space. It's intimate," Myka says before she can rein in the words. She glances away from Helena's penetrating stare in the mirror to finally put the lip-gloss away.

An awkward silence falls between them as they studiously try not to glance at each other in the mirror as they continue to get ready.

"I thought we should stop on the way to get your mother flowers," Helena breaks the silence.

"Helena, you don't have to do that."

"I want to, Myka. She's going to all the trouble of having us over for dinner, it's the least I can do."

"Except it's no trouble for her. She's the one who wants us there, remember?" Myka smiles. "We're the ones that are going to go through trouble, believe me."

Helena regards Myka silently for a moment, noticing the way she rubs at her neck, her face reflecting a slight trepidation. "You're really worried about tonight, aren't you?"

Myka scoffs. "Aren't you? We're going to be scrutinized. Talk about being interrogated by Immigration Services, dinner with my family will be so much worse."

"Myka, they're your family. Your mother and sister we already know are delighted by our nuptials."

"Delighted, yes, which means now they'll want details, explicit details about our relationship, our marriage, our future. Details they asked me for last weekend that I managed only to divert them from with the excuse that we would talk about them at this dinner when we were both present."

"So we'll tell them the details then. We did have a ceremony after all, we can elaborate on that."

"And what about my dad?"

"What about him?"

"He hasn't called since my mom told him the news. I don't think it bodes well for us that he hasn't called."

Helena shrugs her shoulders at this. "Perhaps he just needed time to process the information and would rather extend his well wishes in person," she says hopefully.

Myka looks back skeptically. "My dad?"

Helena laughs. "Yes, your father. Give the man a little more credit, Myka. He does love you, you know."

"He has a funny way of showing it sometimes."

"Some people just aren't comfortable voicing their feelings. It doesn't make those feelings any less valid, does it?" she asks softly.

Myka shakes her head.

"So then, what are your mother's favorite flowers?" Helena asks returning to the original topic.

Myka takes a moment to consider the question. "Glads I think."

"Gladiolus?" Helena asks surprised.

"Is that significant?"

"Not significant. Coincidental perhaps. They were my mother's favorite as well," Helena says softly in remembrance.

Myka reaches out to gently touch her arm and offers a sympathetic squeeze.

Helena covers Myka's hand with her own, grateful for the gesture. "I used to give her flowers on her birthday. She loved the red ones best. It will be nice to give gladiolus again to a mother, albeit mother-in-law," she smiles softly.

"She'll love them," Myka assures, feeling her chest constrict with rising emotion.


They are twenty minutes from the Bering residence when Myka starts to fidget unconsciously. Seemingly unable to get comfortable as she drives, her eyes are trained on the roadway but her mind runs rampant, worrying about all the possible things that could go wrong tonight at dinner with her family; with her father.

It isn't until she feels the soft touch of Helena's hand on her knee that she's finally pulled from her thoughts, looking down at that hand, to the wedding ring gleaming on a slender finger before looking back up to meet Helena's eyes looking at her with amusement and a hint of concern.

Myka flushes with embarrassment, realizing Helena was probably speaking to her, saying her name with no response. "Sorry," she apologizes automatically.

"For what? I merely asked if you were all right, called you by name four times trying to elicit a response. I'm delighted to know when all else fails, my touch at least does garner a response from you," she smirks.

Myka bites her lip, feeling the heat of Helena's hand radiating through her slacks where it still rests on Myka's knee.

When Myka doesn't say anything, Helena goes on. "They're your family, Myka, there's no need to be so nervous. You already know your mother and Tracy are supportive, ecstatic even about our marriage."

"Yeah, but my dad…"

"I'm sure will be fine with it too. Your mother did say she and your father expected us…that we would happen," Helena says gesturing between them to indicate some sort of intimate relationship.

"Because you are the only person I've ever brought home?" Myka asks incredulously. "What kind of logic is that? I mean, thank god I never brought home Pete or…or Claudia, I mean can you imagine?" Myka laughs nervously.

Helena sighs at obvious deflection, removing her hand from Myka's knee to trail it through her hair, unaware of Myka briefly lifting her gaze from the road to track the movement. "Somehow I seriously doubt your parents or indeed anyone for that matter would see anything more than a platonic attachment between you and Pete or Claudia."

"Yeah, you're right," Myka answers softly, aware that her words may have injured Helena's pride in some way, but uncertain how to fix that without giving away her true feelings. "I suppose it's just as well they do see that...energy between us."

"Oh?" Helena prods interestedly.

"Yeah. I mean, given the circumstances, their viewpoint can only help the situation. We are married and if they already think it's believable, then we don't have to work so hard at pretending to be actually married."

"We are actually married."

"You know what I mean, Helena. We can just be ourselves around them. Act normal."

"You mean without demonstrating any public displays of affection?" Helena tries to clarify, a smile pulling at her lips.

Myka shrugs, feeling her heart begin to race at Helena's devious smirk that belies any intention that she will in fact act normal. "I'm just saying, we don't have to do anything extra to sell our case; they're not Abigail."

"Yes, that's true, though I should point out, we haven't really done anything extra as you say in front of Abigail either, which may be part of our problem and why she still feels a need to investigate our marriage."

Now Myka sighs heavily. "I know, you're right. But it's all so awkward with her observing us. I feel like anything we do will look forced anyway."

"I know what you mean," Helena acquiesces. "I've thought the same way, but Myka, we're going to have to 'up our game' as Pete likes to say if we truly are to get Immigration Services off our backs. I have no desire to be locked in a room to be interrogated about every detail of our marriage, waiting for authorities to pounce the second I give the wrong answer about the color of your toothbrush!" she complains.

"I don't think Abigail mentioned anything about locked doors. And she called it an interview, not interrogation," Myka corrects Helena's dramatization with a grin.

"I'm reading between the lines, Myka," Helena says exasperated. "It will be an interrogation, locked doors or not, and if we don't get all the answers right, it will mean imprisonment, likely for us both."

"I know, I know, you're right," Myka says seriously. "And I have no intention of letting it get that far, Helena," she assures, reaching to grasp Helena's hand in hers to offer comfort. "We'll 'up our game' or whatever it takes to make Abigail believe our marriage isn't a fraud."

"Even if that should include a little PDA?" Helena inquires with a raised eyebrow.

Myka turns to briefly meet Helena's dark eyes and feels her breath catch at the sight of those eyes looking at her with equal part amusement and affection. "Even that," Myka exhales as she turns down the driveway to her parents' home.

"Good," Helena responds as Myka parks the Jeep and turns off the ignition. "We can practice a little PDA tonight then," she says with a wink as she exits the passenger door, closing it before opening the back door to grab the bouquet of flowers they brought with them. Noticing Myka hasn't moved since they parked, Helena asks, "Coming, darling?"

"Uh…yeah," Myka responds making movement to exit the vehicle only to be snapped back into her seat.

"I believe you may have more luck unbuckling your seatbelt first," Helena quips.

Myka quickly does just that before finally meeting Helena in front of the Jeep as they make their way up the driveway together.

Helena looks on appreciatively at the landscape. "Your parents have certainly transformed this garden. Hard to believe it's been less than two years since they bought this place, the garden looks as if it's been decades in the making."

"Yeah, who knew they both had such green thumbs? But I'm happy for them, finally to have a house after all the years they lived above the bookshop. They're happier here than I've ever seen them."

"Well that may have something to do with retirement as well, don't you think?"

"Probably," Myka agrees.

"I imagine they still miss the bookstore though."

"Some days. But I think they were also ready to retire, at least my mom was," she amends, "and when the offer came up, it was too good to pass up. I think they're better for it, truthfully, and I've never seen my mom happier than she is now in this house."

"Little wonder why," Helena says admiring the modest two-story structure with dormer windows and a large front porch.

They linger there on the walkway, Myka already anxious for the evening ahead and Helena suddenly becoming so. Ignoring the inevitable for the moment, they instead admire brightly colored chrysanthemums and asters that adorn the way.

"The flowers are pretty but do you really intend to stay out here all evening to admire them?" Jeannie Bering asks amusedly from the open doorway, shaking her head at them.

Startled, both women look up with sheepish expressions giving away their consideration of doing exactly that.

"It's too cold out here to linger long," Jeannie admonishes, rubbing her arms to ward off the chill of the evening air. "Come on inside where it's warm. We've all been waiting for you."

Myka quietly groans that their interlude has been broken, but when Helena turns to her, offering a sympathetic smile and takes her hand to lead her to the remaining few steps to the door, Myka doesn't mind the interruption quite so much.

"My fault entirely, Mrs. Bering, Jeannie," Helena apologizes. "I was just telling Myka how lovely your garden is looking. It's quite remarkable all the work you've put into it."

"I'd hardly call it work when I enjoy it as much as I do," Jeannie laughs as she steps back to allow the women entrance into the home, taking the flowers Helena offers her. "Gladiolus! My favorite flowers – thank you. They're so lovely," she says admiring the range of colors.

"Myka told me they're your favorite. They happened to be my mother's favorite as well," Helena says smiling softly.

"Were they? Well that makes two things your mother and I share then. Our love of gladiolus and you," Jeannie smiles warmly.

"Oh, yes?" Helena breaths shakily, caught off guard by the affection Jeannie so readily offers. Myka steps beside her, discretely touching her arm to offer a squeeze as if to say, 'all right?' Helena swallows down the sudden emotion, and turns to smile at her.

"Of course we have that in common, dear," Jeannie continues. "Warren! Myka and Helena are here," she calls down the hall. She looks from Myka to Helena and back again with a wide smile. "Oh, it's so good to have you both here," she gushes, engulfing Myka in a hug. "And Helena, dear," Jeannie addresses, laying a gentle hand on her arm, how is your back – better I hope?"

"Considerably better than it was last weekend. Myka has taken great care of me, making sure I don't overexert myself, much to my annoyance at times," she grins at Myka. "I'm afraid I'm not a very patient, patient."

"You haven't been so bad," Myka states helping Helena remove her coat before slipping off her own, handing them both to her mother to hang in the closet.

"Well, I'm glad you're feeling better," Jeannie says stepping forward then to embrace Helena in a hug as well. "Welcome to the family, dear," she whispers against her ear.

Helena, caught off guard again by the open display of affection from Myka's mother awkwardly returns the embrace only to startle away from it at the sound of another voice.

"I hear there are newlyweds in our midst," Warren greets wryly. "Thought I better get a look at you – see if you look any different."

"Hi, Dad," Myka says stepping forward to offer him a brief hug.

"Myka, Helena," he nods at them, taking in their appearance, the way they stand so near each other, wearing similar sweaters, matching rings and matching expressions of nervous anticipation with just a hint of defiance glimmering in their eyes.

"I admit I was floored when Jeannie told me you'd gotten married so suddenly, but I suppose with the threat of deportation looming it's only natural you'd decide to get married so spur of the moment – with no time to let your family know of your plans."

"Warren!" Jeannie rebukes.

"Seriously, Dad? We haven't even sat down yet," Myka says perturbed.

"What? All I said was the marriage was sudden. That's a fact isn't it?" Warren observes the rising color in Myka's cheeks whether from anger or embarrassment is uncertain, but either way, it's for Helena's sake.

"Now that you've been properly welcomed," Jeannie says shooting her husband a pointed look, "come make yourselves more comfortable in the living room. Tracy and Kevin are already here, eager to see you."

They follow the Berings down the hall, Myka looking apologetically at Helena who gives her a reassuring smile in return.

Kevin quickly rises from his chair to greet the women when they enter the room. "Tracy tells me congratulations are in order for you two," he smiles. Stepping close to Myka he wraps her in a hug. "Congrats, Myka. Helena is a catch," he winks at her as he pulls away.

"Yeah, thanks, Kevin," Myka smiles bashfully, catching a glance at Helena.

"And you!" he directs at Helena. "I guess this makes us family now too, Sis."

"Oh dear, just what I need, another meddlesome brother," Helena says with an exaggerated eye roll, but a grin betrays her true sentiment on the matter.

Kevin pulls her into a hug too, telling her," You're lucky to have Myka."

"I well know it," she agrees with an affectionate smile for Myka before directing her attention back to her new brother-in-law. "At least I won't have to worry about you flirting with my wife unlike my brother Charles, so that's a point in your favor."

"I wouldn't dare. Tracy would disown me," he says returning to his wife's side who playfully slaps his shoulder.

"I'd do no such thing. Someone has change this baby's diapers after all," she jokes.

"I see. I'm only good for future diaper duty, is that it?" he asks her.

Tracy pretends to give the question serious consideration. "Hmm. You might be good for a few other things."

"Well at least you'll keep me around until we meet the little fellow," he says laying a gentle hand along her growing stomach.

"Wait, fellow?" Myka asks surprised. "You found out the sex?"

"No," Tracy laughs. ""Kevin alternates calling the baby little fellow to little lady. This just happens to be a fellow day, that's all."

"Well, have you settled on names yet?" Helena asks interestedly as she sits beside Myka on the sofa, laying her hand along Myka's thigh, smiling when she feels the muscle under her hand tense with surprise before relaxing.

"We have a few picked out, both boy and girl names, but nothing set in stone."

"That's only because Tracy keeps looking up new names everyday," Kevin explains with a look of fond exasperation towards his wife. "We have enough names now to field a baseball team."

"You'll know the right name when the baby comes," Jeannie assures. "That's how it was naming the two of you," she says looking thoughtfully at her daughters.

"That leads me to ask you, Jeannie, how did Myka come by her name?" Helena asks interested.

"It's a family name actually. Warren's grandmother's name name was Micah, named after her father who died in the war before she was born. And like her father, she went on to serve during World War II as a nurse. The stories she would tell," Jeannie sighs in remembrance.

"I briefly considered studying medicine in college because of the stories Dad would tell about her," Myka explains to Helena, "but soon realized medicine just wasn't for me."

"Nor was law, apparently," Warren adds.

"No, it wasn't," Myka agrees tersely. "But I've always loved literature, a love you instilled in me, Dad and now I couldn't be happier with my career. Even more so that it led me to Helena," she adds with a soft look for the woman beside her.

"And I'm very grateful for your love of literature," Helena replies, caressing the thigh beneath her hand, smiling when Myka covers her hand to halt her ministrations.

"Anyway, Warren and I both liked name, liked that it could be for either gender. Though we did decide to change the spelling once we realized we had a girl."

"Well I'm certainly glad you chose the name, it suits Myka perfectly," Helena says looking at Myka.

"I've always liked the name," Warren says. Clearing his throat, he asks, "Jeannie, how much longer before dinner is ready?"

Jeannie glances at her watch. "About another twenty minutes, dear."

"Good," he nods with approval as he rises from his chair. "That will give Helena and I a chance to have a little talk."

"Oh, the talk about intentions," Kevin sighs. "I had the same talk when I wanted to marry Tracy. Good luck, Helena."

"Wait, what? Why do you need to talk?" Myka asks instantly alarmed as she too rises from her seat. "There's no need for a talk, we're married, you know her intentions," Myka states adamantly.

Warren raises his brow at his daughter's outburst but remains silent as he observes Helena trying to soothe Myka.

"It's perfectly all right, Myka," she says standing and linking her fingers with Myka's to offer a reassuring squeeze. "I'm more than happy to discuss any subject matter with your father and to discuss you in particular," she smiles.

Myka ignores the way her pulse races at Helena's words, her panic over what her father could possibly want to discuss with Helena overriding all else. "Helena, you don't have to do this," Myka says, her eyes pleading.

Helena smiles warmly at the worry in reflected in green eyes. "I want to speak with your father, Myka, set him at ease about us. You know I'm more than capable of taking care of myself, so let me do this now, all right, love?"

Myka's eyes widen in surprise at the endearment. 'Love' isn't something she's heard from Helena's lips directed at her before and she's struck by how much she wants to hear Helena say it again. Looking into brown eyes, Myka sees serenity there and slightly mollified she simply nods. "Okay, but if he says anything to upset you…"

"I'll be fine," Helena assures, stepping forward to place a swift kiss against Myka's cheek, causing her to blush knowing full well her family is watching. "Save a place for me beside you at the table for dinner?"

Myka just nods.

"I'll be back soon," Helena promises as she follows Warren out of the room. Myka watches her out of sight, wanting nothing more than to follow her.

"Myka, come with me into the kitchen," Jeannie entreats as she makes her way out of the living room. "You can mix the salad, help keep you from worrying over 'the talk' as Kevin says."

"I seriously doubt anything will keep me from worrying," she mutters but obediently follows her mother into the kitchen. Arms crossed defensively across her chest, she watches her mother gather various ingredients for the salad, a head of lettuce, tomatoes, carrots, before placing them on the counter near the sink.

"If nothing will keep you from worrying over what your father will say, maybe the view will offer some insight," Jeannie says laying a gentle hand along her daughter's shoulder before retreating with a knowing smile.

Myka glances sullenly out the window that overlooks the backyard. She straightens when she sees Helena with her father walking through the yard at a leisurely pace. Myka sighs at the sight. Now at least she can watch over them both and if Helena shows any sign of distress, Myka won't hesitate to go to her.


"Your garden is lovely, Mr. Bering," Helena speaks admiringly, glancing at the surrounding flowers and bushes that refuse to sleep just yet for the approaching winter.

"Yes, it is," he agrees. "That's mostly all Jeannie's work. She has a knack with flowers."

"Myka tells me you do as well."

"No, not really. Jeannie just tells me where to dig the holes for some of the larger plants and I simply follow her direction. She's the one who nurtures the flowers, encourages them to grow."

"The flowers wouldn't bloom and grow without the soil you dug to make room for their roots," Helena points out.

Warren stares into brown eyes for a long moment, gauging her expression and contemplating the meaning behind the simple words. "Maybe not," he finally concedes. "At any rate, if you think the garden looks lovely now, you should have seen it earlier this summer when it was full of color."

"Well there's always next year," Helena remarks lightly.

"I sincerely hope you mean that, Helena. For Myka's sake."

"Ah yes, the talk," Helena sighs. We've finally arrived at it now have we? Well then, what exactly do you wish to talk about? You must know my intentions."

"Do I?" Warren counters.

"I should think so, especially considering Jeannie as much as told Myka and I you both expected that we would become something more than friends."

"That was before."

"Before what exactly?"

"Before Jeannie relayed the fact you married my daughter so suddenly to avoid your imminent deportation," Warren states.

Helena remains silent under the implied accusation; under the justified accusation she amends.

"You know, Kevin came to me to ask for Tracy's hand in marriage the way a proper suitor should," Warren goes on and there is an underlying anger in his words that Helena can't help but notice.

It strikes up Helena's own anger. "A bit old-fashioned to ask the father's permission for what is ultimately the daughter's decision, don't you think?"

"It was respectful."

"With all due respect, Mr. Bering, I respect Myka's decisions as her own to make. I asked her to marry me because the thought of leaving her was unbearable and she said yes because she wanted to."

"I just don't want to see her hurt," Warren speaks lowly.

"I don't either and I would never intentionally hurt Myka, I assure you."

"Intentionally, no I don't believe you would. Unintentionally however…" he trails off with a heavy sigh.

"I don't know if you realize it, but you're the first person, the only person, Myka has every brought home to meet us. Yes, we've heard all about her other coworkers, but when she asked if it was all right to invite you to that first Thanksgiving dinner years ago, Jeannie and I knew there was something different about you, something special. And then we saw the way Myka was around you and I can't even begin to describe it. I've never seen her look that way at anyone else."

"How does she look at me?" Helena asks curious.

"Contented. As though you're the most important person in her life."

Helena is startled by the conviction of his words, in his voice. "Oh," she breathes, at a loss what else to say.

"Please tell me that your sudden marriage to Myka isn't just to evade deportation."

"Myka and I have known each other three years. We've worked side by side and have become best friends and were just beginning to explore something more. In that respect, there's nothing sudden about our marriage. When the issue of my possible deportation arose, what was sudden was the realization that I couldn't possibly leave Myka. It was simply unthinkable," she smiles wanly.

Softly she continues. "The circumstances for our marriage may not have been ideal, but it doesn't make our decision to marry as we did any less valid."

Warren remains silent a moment, mulling over her words. "You've neglected to say that you love her. Do you love my daughter?"

Helena has expected the question to come from the moment Warren initiated this talk, but the blatancy of it still has her floundering for a sufficient answer, a truthful one.

"I should think my feelings for Myka are very obvious, but if you need to hear me say the words, yes, I love Myka, I always have." It's not a lie, Helena can take comfort in that. Myka is her dearest friend, of course she loves her. The exact nature of that love, Helena won't allow herself to examine.

Regardless, Warren seems satisfied with her answer as he nods his head approvingly. "Well then, we better get back inside. It's too cold out here to linger and Myka hasn't looked away from the kitchen window since we stepped out here."

Helena turns sharply to glance back at the house, seeing Myka standing at window watching them just as Warren said. She smiles at the sight of Myka being so protective and anxious for her.

"You might as well go to her and try to set her at ease."


Helena silently watches Myka at the counter, apparently mashing potatoes for dinner. She has a desire to simply step behind her and wrap her arms around her slender waist to pull her to her. The urge to do so is so great she's uncertain she can refrain from doing just that. Then again, they are married, her family knows they're married, it might be better to act on her desire to help sell their case as it were.

Finally decided, Helena steps behind Myka and slips her arms around the taller woman's waist, pulling her gently to her.

Myka gasps with surprise at the feel of an arm slipping around her waist and tries to turn around, but instead she is pulled closer to the slim body behind her.

"It's just me, darling," Helena husks into her ear and smiles when she feels Myka shudder involuntarily.

"What are you doing?" Myka asks, her voice a whisper.

"I should think it's rather obvious. I'm showing my wife affection," Helena replies, brushing a soft kiss against the side of Myka's neck, smiling wider as Myka slowly exhales.

"You don't have to do this," Myka says.

"And if I want to?" Helena counters.

"Helena…"

"I'm simply upping our game, remember?" Helena whispers against Myka's ear, pulling her intimately closer to her.

"My family isn't Abigail," Myka whispers back.

Helena laughs. "Practice, darling. Besides, your father voiced his doubts to me just now about the sincerity of our marriage, believing we married to avoid my deportation."

Myka groans. "Of course he doubts our sincerity. Though, he's not wrong, is he?" Myka asks furrowing her brow.

"No, not entirely," Helena concedes.

And before Myka can ask Helena to elaborate on her use of 'entirely' in that statement their conversation is interrupted by a sound of glee from behind them.

"Oh, you two are so sweet together," Tracy enthuses, grinning at the sight of Helena's arms wrapped around her sister.

Myka steps out of the gentle embrace self-consciously. "Hey, Trace, you need something?"

"No, I'm sorry for interrupting," Tracy hurriedly apologizes, "I just came to get a glass of water for dinner."

"Myka, haven't you finished the mashing the potatoes yet?" Jeannie gently admonishes entering the kitchen to gather serving spoons. "The table is all set except for those."

"Mom, cut the woman some slack. She's a newlywed now and Helena is a considerable distraction," Tracy grins at them.

Jeannie shakes her head fondly at her daughters. "Well newlywed," she addresses Myka, "you know how your father loves his roast beef with mashed potatoes so hurry along."

"They're nearly finished," Myka says turning her attention back to the task.

"Tracy, take this bottle of wine to the table, please," Jeannie tells her, placing the bottle in her arms.

"Oh, wine," Tracy sighs, "how I've missed you. It's been far too long since we were acquainted," she says looking at the wine bottle longingly.

Helena laughs. "Isn't the baby due next month? It won't be too much longer before you can indulge again."

"Yes, next month thankfully but then I plan to breastfeed, so no alcohol for the duration," she sighs.

"Ah, you have my sympathy then," Helena smiles. "Still, you're having a baby, your child. That should make all the sacrifices worth it," she adds thoughtfully glancing at Tracy's protruding stomach.

"Yeah, it will," Tracy agrees, rubbing the soft swell, laughing when she feels a kick. "He/she has been active all day, kicking up a storm. Do you want to feel, Helena?"

"Oh, is it all right?" she asks hopeful.

"Of course," Tracy laughs, reaching for Helena's hand to place it over her stomach. Helena waits several seconds before she feels the gentle vibration of a kick against her hand. She laughs at the sensation. "It feels as though you've got a little football player in there."

Tracy shakes her head with a laugh. "That's one sport I don't want my kid playing. Too dangerous."

"She means soccer, Trace," Myka explains.

"Oh, right, you're English."

"Incurably so," Helena quips with a grin at Myka who shakes her head, trying not to grin in return and failing.

"I'd be okay with soccer but I think Kevin has his heart set on this one being a baseball player."

"Maybe the child will choose dance over sports or something else artistic like music, art, or drama," Jeannie adds her two cents. "You girls were so different from each other. You with your cheerleading and track and Myka with fencing and ice skating."

Tracy laughs. "Whatever the baby wants to do is fine by me, but it will be a few years before we have to worry about all that thank goodness."

"Myka, have you felt the baby kick?" Helena asks, her hand still hovering over Tracy's stomach.

"Yeah, but it's been awhile," she admits.

"Come feel the baby now, Myka," Tracy entreats. "When you felt it before the kicking was hardly a flutter, now there's some oomph behind it," she laughs.

Myka places her hand near Helena's over her sister's stomach, waiting for the kick to come. When it does, Helena laughs delightedly, her face radiating such awe and unfettered joy that it momentarily takes Myka's breath away.

"So, any chance you two will give this little one a cousin or two to play with in the near future?" Tracy asks smiling.

Myka drops her hand away and Helena slowly removes her hand as she looks at Myka dubiously. They touched on the subject of children very briefly that morning in the clerk's office applying for their marriage license but they are hardly in a position to answer such a question as a couple. They both entered into this marriage with the knowledge that it would be temporary; a means for Helena to retain residency in the country, nothing more. Myka's family are all under the impression her marriage to Myka is one that was entered into for love. It's an impression that she and Myka are working to instill even now and with Tracy looking at her so expectantly, hopefully, it leaves a feeling of unease in the pit of her stomach. She doesn't want to mislead this family and yet she has to.

Helena tucks a strand of hair behind her ear as she tries to formulate an adequate answer. "Well, we haven't really decided…that is to say…"

"Tracy, it's really too soon to discuss children, don't you think?" Myka interrupts Helena's uncharacteristic mumbling. "I mean we've only been married a little over a week."

Tracy observes their startled looks and clamps a hand over her mouth. "I'm sorry," she quickly apologizes. "I don't mean to pressure you…it's just…you are so perfect together and I think you would make great moms, if you choose to have children that is."

"For the record, I agree with Tracy, you'd make wonderful mothers and more grandchildren would be a welcome addition to the family," Jeannie smiles at the newlyweds who still look at a loss for words. "But talk of children can wait, dinner can't so come along girls," she says gathering the bowl of mashed potatoes and gently guiding Tracy out of the kitchen. "Oh, Myka," she says turning again, "did you bring the wedding photos as you promised?"

"Yeah, I did, Mom."

"Good, bring them to the table so we can all have a look at them over dinner, all right?"

Myka nods as she watches her mother and sister walk out of the kitchen, finally leaving Myka and Helena alone for a moment.

"Well that was unexpected," Helena says.

"So unexpected," Myka exhales. "I did warn you that this dinner with my family would be worse than any interview by Immigration Services."

"You did."

"Do you think we could sneak out without them noticing?"

"I doubt it. They mean well, Myka, they just want to see us happy. It's quite lovely actually and I think that's what makes this all so difficult. I regret that I'm misleading them about the reason for our marriage," she says soberly.

"Hey, we're in this together, Helena," Myka says stepping forward to lay a comforting hand along her arm. "Yes, it's regrettable misleading them but I don't regret marrying you."

"You're still sure about that?" Helena asks. "Even after all that has just transpired?"

"You're still here aren't you? Not four thousand miles away. That's all that matters to me right now," Myka replies softly taking Helena's hand in hers to lead her out of the kitchen towards the dining room.

"Righty-ho then," Helena replies heartened.


"Let's see the wedding photos, Myka," Jeannie says eagerly reaching to take them from Myka. At the first glance Jeannie clutches at her heart. "Oh, Myka, you look so beautiful, you both do," she says looking at her eldest daughter and new daughter-in-law. "I wish I could have been there."

"You really didn't miss much, Mom," Myka tries to assure, taking a sip of wine. "The entire ceremony couldn't have lasted more than fifteen minutes. You would have spent more time driving to the ceremony than actually attending it."

With one last look, Jeannie passes the photographs to Tracy to look at, Kevin glancing over her shoulder to view them too.

"Still, it was your wedding, Myka. It's one of the most important days of your life and I missed it," Jeannie sighs.

"You have to let us give you a bridal shower, Myka, to make up for missing your wedding," Tracy insists.

"Yes, please let us do that for you," Jeannie entreats.

"Really, that's not necessary," Myka says. "Helena and I have everything we need."

"More than we need," Helena adds. "We spent most of yesterday morning packing my things, trying to figure out how it will all fit into Myka's apartment."

"Do you need help moving?" Warren asks without looking up from the photos he now has in his hand.

"I think we've got it covered, but thanks for asking, Dad."

Warren nods. "These pictures…do you think you could have copies made to give to your mother and I to keep?"

Myka is surprised by the question, glancing at Helena who nods her encouragement. "Yeah, I…that shouldn't be a problem."

"I just thought one of these might look good on the wall next to Tracy and Kevin's wedding picture is all," he explains returning the pictures to Myka.

"A photograph would be wonderful," Jeannie readily agrees. "And very soon we'll have the baby's picture to add to the wall too," she says reaching to pat Tracy's hand.

"Since it's only a few weeks before the baby arrives, now is the opportune time to give you that bridal shower," Tracy mentions again. "Speak now or forever hold your peace because after the baby comes along I have a feeling I won't have time for anything else for awhile."

Myka sighs in defeat. "Let Helena and I think about it, okay?"

"Just don't take too long thinking about it. The clock's ticking and I really just want an excuse to throw a party," she winks.

"That's very sweet of you, Tracy," Helena says, "and I promise you Myka and I will give it some consideration. In the interim, thank you for dinner tonight, Jeannie, it's lovely."

"You're welcome, Helena. I had thought to bake a cake for you in celebration, but I didn't know your favorite cake and I also know cake in general isn't one of Myka's favorites, so I decided to make what is her favorite dessert instead."

"You made apple cobbler?" Myka asks hopeful.

"I did, special for you," Jeannie smiles at her daughter. "We have to celebrate your marriage to Helena in some way after all."

"What's this?" Helena pipes up. "My wife who professes not to eat sugar loves another sugary treat?" she smirks earning a good laugh from Tracy and Jeannie and a blush from Myka.

"It has apples," Myka protests. "They're healthy."

"Yeah, pretty sure they're not when they're mixed in with butter, sugar and cinnamon," Tracy points out. "But it is oh so good."

"I'm just teasing, love," Helena says leaning forward to brush a kiss at the corner of Myka's mouth, grinning as she pulls back to see that mouth slightly parted in astonishment. "Jeannie, you'll have to give me your recipe so I can make it for Myka in the future."

"I'd be happy to," she beams.


It's late when they finally arrive home. Myka is already in bed, looking longingly at Helena's manuscript that still sits untouched on her nightstand, when Helena finally makes her way across the room to get in her side of the bed. The nights are colder now and both of them have traded sleep shorts for flannel pajama pants. Myka regrets the change of clothing only because she misses the sight of Helena's shapely legs each night, but she is consoled that Helena still prefers to wear a thin camisole to sleep in.

"I can't believe Tracy insisted on showing you every item of clothing, stuffed animal and baby blanket. I thought we'd never leave," Myka shakes her head exasperated. After dinner at her parents, they had of course had to go to Tracy's home to see the nursery. They'd spent much longer there than Myka anticipated they would. She had hoped to return home at a somewhat decent hour to at least get a few minutes of reading Helena's novel before having to go to bed. Those hopes had been dashed the minute Tracy started pulling out the baby clothes.

Helena smiles. "Tracy is understandably excited about the baby and I didn't mind, Myka. I enjoyed it actually," she says beginning to rub lotion onto her hands.

Myka has to admit, Helena did appear to enjoy looking over everything in the nursery, fingering the clothing and blankets with such care.

"I need to go online to see if I can find something to add to the jungle theme of the nursery. I saw a giraffe lamp once in a catalog I think would go nicely," Helena says shuffling under the covers.

"Tracy would love that. You were good with her tonight, with all of my family really, thank you."

Helena turns on her side to face Myka. "There's nothing to thank me for."

"You had to endure a talk with my dad about your intentions towards me," Myka huffs.

"I could have done without that," she agrees. "But it wasn't so terrible. Your father has your best interest at heart, I can understand that," Helena replies. "And your mother, she more than made up for any discomfort the talk with your father may have spurred. The way she…embraced me into your family, Myka, I didn't expect such affection so soon, but it felt good to have that from…a mother again."

"Mom has always liked you," Myka says squeezing Helena's hand comfortingly.

"I do think however, if we are to have dinner with your family again as your mother suggested, we should consider Saturday night rather than Sunday. We can always oversleep your seven-thirty grocery shopping schedule but I don't think Artie will appreciate us coming to work late Monday morning if we should happen to oversleep."

"You don't have to attend more family dinners, Helena. It'll just be more of the same."

"And that's a bad thing?"

"Isn't it?" Mom was great, but do you really want more personal questions from my Dad? Not to mention Tracy pestering us about a bridal shower and if we're going to have children. Really, when you think about it, returning to London might be preferable to be subjected to more dinners with my family and all that comes along with that. I wouldn't blame you if you'd prefer to call off the marriage right now."

"Nonsense, you're just being ridiculous now," Helena rebuts sleepily, curling naturally into Myka's side. "I adore your family."

"Why?" Myka asks truly perplexed.

"Because they're part of you," she says yawning, her eyes closing as she rests her head comfortably in the crook of Myka's neck, breathing in the soft scent of her body lotion and sighing contentedly.

"Oh," Myka breathes out. "Well," she clears her throat of the unexpected emotion rising there. "They adore you too, you know."

"I know," Helena replies sleepily, and Myka would laugh at the matter of fact reply but stills instead as Helena's head becomes heavier against her shoulder as sleep overtakes her.

Myka waits in the silence, feeling Helena's steady breath against her neck, certain she's asleep before she whispers, "And I adore you too." She places a soft kiss against dark hair before closing her own eyes at last.