Derek frowned at the knock on his door.

No one knocked on his door.

No one except that girl from the diner bringing him his lunch. And, lately, the librarian who inexplicably seemed intent on turning his life upside down. (And, to be honest, he couldn't find it in himself to be all that upset about it, though he'd never admit that to anyone.)

With a growl low in his throat, he threw the door open, fully prepared to send the interloper skittering off like a scared rabbit...only to find a familiar beautiful face staring expectantly at him.

"Oh..." he said lamely, faltering in his prepared anger. "It's you..." He hoped the smile that wanted to break out at the sight of her didn't show on his face, afraid of giving away too much of himself.

"You sound disappointed," she teased gently, playful smile on her lips, eyes twinkling with mirth.

That seemed to throw him even more off balance – no one was ever playful with him... "It's, umm..." He paused, cleared his throat. "It's not lunch time," he said lamely, then winced at his lack of eloquence.

"I'm actually here to ask you a favour," she said, perhaps a little hesitantly, unsure what response to expect from him.

"A favour?" he repeated skeptically. No one had ever asked him a favour before.

She nodded. "I need a rose. Well, not me – her," she gestured behind her to where Clara had sort of hidden herself from view.

"Her?" he repeated, if possible more skeptically, eyeing the girl up and down and wondering why the sight of her sent a twinge of familiarity and longing pinging through his chest.

Clara gave a half-hearted wave, but said nothing.

"She's getting married today," Emily explained for her. She flashed Clara an almost maternal smile over her shoulder.

"And?" Derek asked, not meaning to be gruff, but unable to help himself.

Taking a tentative step forwards, Clara offered him a pleading look as she explained, "Before we started dating, Henry – my fiance – he used to bring me a single rose after every ballet performance because he was too shy to tell me he loved me. And after he finally got the courage to ask me on a date, he would bring me a rose for every anniversary, every special occasion, every holiday...even though we were both poor teenagers." She shrugged shyly. "I just... I thought it might be nice to have a rose for our wedding too."

For a long moment, Derek said nothing. He cleared his throat once, twice. Eventually, he gestured for the two of them to follow him into the garden.

"What can I get you today?" JJ asked Emily, settling into the booth across from her.

For several moments, Emily seemed to stare off into space, apparently not having heard her.

"Earth to Em?" JJ said, louder this time. "Hello in there?"

"Hmm?" She shook herself back into awareness with an apologetic smile. "Sorry...I guess I'm a little distracted." She bit down on her smile, trying not to give away too much of herself. "I'll have the usual," she ordered, handing JJ the menu. "Oh, and a glass of water, please."

JJ raised a brow. "A glass of water?" she repeated skeptically.

"For the flower..." Emily explained, holding up a single crimson rose.

If possible, JJ's brows arched even higher on her forehead. "Where'd you get that?" she demanded.

Cheeks pinking, Emily's gaze dropped to the flower, no words forthcoming.

Gasping sharply, she hissed, "OMG it's from him, isn't it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about..."

"I know it sure as hell isn't from your husband, so spill," JJ ordered, settling back in her seat.

With a dramatic sigh, she said, "It's from Derek... Clara – you know, that new girl – wanted a rose for her wedding, so I went with her to ask Derek for one since he has the only roses in town. Then, just as we were about to leave, he handed me this rose...

"He said that his mother planted the roses when he was just a boy and she tended them with love until the day she died. Since then, he's never let anyone touch them, let alone pluck one. But he said this one was the most beautiful bloom and he wanted me to have it." She shrugged, cheeks the same shade as the flower.

JJ's smile got soft and perhaps a little smug. "That's so sweet," she declared. "He must really love you."

"Whatever," Emily scoffed. "He barely knows me."

JJ's expression made it clear she didn't even begin to buy that excuse. "Em, that man has lived alone for as long as anyone can remember. He doesn't come out of his house, doesn't speak to anyone. He barely tolerates me and that's only because I bring him his lunch. But you..." She paused, shook her head. "You show up on his porch one day out of the blue and suddenly he's opening up parts of himself he's never shown to anyone. I don't know about you, but that sounds a lot like love to me."

Trying to resist rolling her eyes, Emily shook her head slowly. "That doesn't change the fact that I have a husband who, by the way, would kill me if he knew I saw Derek today." She hoped her quivering voice didn't let on how small an exaggeration that was...

"I've said it before and I'll say it again: you need to leave his ass."

"It's not that easy..." she whispered.

"Em, your happiness has to count for something," JJ murmured, reaching over to squeeze her hand. "And for as long as I've known you, I don't think you've ever once been happy with him. You can't keep living that way."

Keeping her gaze fixed firmly on the table so JJ couldn't see the tears sparkling in her eyes, Emily let out a shaky breath, but said nothing.

Understanding perfectly, JJ stood, patted Emily's shoulder. "Just...think about it."