The days have begun to blur together for Laura and Bill while they're on maternity leave. Is it Tuesday? Wednesday? No, wait, it must be Thursday already. Emilee has quickly learned who her parents are and how to get their attention. There's the soft babbling cry when she wants to be held. An overly dramatic cry when she's hungry, which is quite often, Laura deciding she must have Cheryl's appetite. Then there's the screaming-at-the-top-of-her-lungs cry that she unleashes when her diaper is dirty. The little girl prefers a dry bottom, and who can blame her?
Laura has reached the incredibly painful, sensitive stage with her nipples, wincing every time Emilee latches onto her breast. "Bill, get me that cream," she orders, too tired to ask nicely. The jar is almost empty, and she lectures him again that if he and Saul hadn't gotten so drunk, then she'd still have plenty left. It's not the kind you can find in stores. They've placed an order for more, but it's currently out of stock, and the cheaper versions aren't as helpful.
After she scolds him for the umpteenth time, she then relents. "I'm sorry, Bill. I'm just so tired, my nipples are almost bleeding, and I keep taking it out on you."
"It's alright. Let me burp her for you." He reaches for Emilee who now has a very round tummy, a little milk dripping from her mouth, and a sleepy look on her face. "Can you give daddy a big burp?" he asks softly while gently patting her back. "You'll sleep better if you belch."
He watches as Laura snaps her nursing bra into place and begins to button her blouse.
"I've been reading that when your nipples are that sore, it might help to give them some air," he informs her.
"I've read that, too. I suppose it's worth a shot," she says before unbuttoning her blouse and shrugging it off, then removing her bra so that she's topless.
"Ouch," Bill says when he sees how irritated her breasts are. "They say the first month is the worst, then it suddenly gets better. You're over halfway there."
"I just hope I can make it that long. Has she burped yet?"
"Nope, still working on it, aren't we, Precious?" He feels her draw in a deep breath which is usually the first sign that she's working on dislodging a gas bubble. "Here we go," he announces.
Suddenly she retches, and instead of a burp, vomit spews from her mouth and drips down Bill's back and onto the floor.
"That's a really wet one," he says, shocked at the amount of milk that came out of his daughter.
"Ew, yeah, and it smells really bad, too," Laura says, jumping up to help clean the mess. "You're going to need another shower, and throw your clothes in the wash."
Emilee makes a pouty face, then begins to fuss. "It's okay, sweetheart, daddy's not upset. You just swallowed too much air when you ate. There, there," he says patting her back some more.
His attempt to soothe her doesn't help. After her body stiffens in his arms, she grunts loudly, and following a string of farts, her diaper explodes with diarrhea, dripping down her legs and onto Bill's frontside.
"Oh, Bill," Laura says in a sympathetic tone, looking at him as he holds Emilee out away from him, poo still dribbling down her legs and dripping onto the floor in a stinky puddle. Emilee coos and blows some bubbles out her mouth, looking at her father with big innocent eyes.
Laura lets out a long wheeze, then doubles over in laughter.
"Honey? Can you help me get cleaned up? I'm afraid to set her down because I don't know what's going to come out of her next," he says, trying to remain calm.
Her laughter grows louder as she goes to the kitchen to get a roll of paper towels. "Wait, hold on," she gasps. "Let me get her plastic bathtub. That way the mess will be contained if she does more."
When she returns with the tub, she doubles over in laughter again.
"What's so funny?" Bill chuckles.
"Look how satisfied she looks! And you're standing there covered in barf and poop, and I'm over here topless with bloody nipples! If I can't laugh about it, I'm going to cry, but it's funny, so I have to laugh!" she explains as Bill places Emilee in the tub.
"Did you poop all over daddy? Did you?" Bill teases his daughter, who responds with more diarrhea. "Honey, I think you should lay off the spicy noodles for a while," he informs Laura.
"That's a good idea. Is mommy's milk too spicy for you?" she asks Emilee.
It takes them almost thirty minutes to clean up the mess, sanitize the floor and tub, and bathe Emilee. While Laura's rocking her to sleep, Bill showers for the second time today. By the time he's done, Em is sleeping soundly in her crib and Laura is resting comfortably on the bed. All this before 2 pm.
"Bill, come here." Laura motions for him to come to the bed, where he sits down next to her. "I'm sorry I laughed at you."
"It's alright. I was laughing with you, believe me," he says giving her a quick kiss.
"Will you lay here with me?" she asks sweetly. "You don't need to get dressed, just crawl under the covers."
"Um, okay," he replies, curious about why she doesn't want him clothed. It's only been a few weeks since Emilee was born, and sex has been the furthest thing from their minds, plus Laura is not healed enough yet anyway. "Are you feeling okay?"
"I just need some cuddle time with my husband."
"Naked?"
"Sure, why not? We can make out a little. Unless you don't want to."
"I'm just surprised you want to," he says slipping under the covers and placing his arm around her.
"Remember that first time I saw you in your uniform? I told you that was the sexiest I've ever seen you."
"How can I forget? You dragged me to bed and had your way with me." She snuggles into him, and he responds by placing a kiss on her forehead.
"And then I saw you in your flight suit, and that was even sexier." Her hand plays with the hairs on his chest, tracing patterns as she thinks about how amazing he looked.
"I remember. But I picked you up and dragged you to bed that time."
Turning to face to him, she places a kiss on his lips. "But the way you take care of our baby? That's way sexier than either of those other times. I could watch you two together all day and wonder how I got so lucky to find someone like you, Bill. I've fallen even more in love with you."
It was four days after Dave spent the night with both Amy and Shayla that Sandra confronted him about his sexual exploits. She had told herself she was going to mind her own business, but after finding two different shades of lipstick on the same pair of pants, she could no longer hold her tongue. What began as an angry conversation suddenly grew silent when she stopped and stared at him. "I don't know who you are anymore, daddy. Maybe I never did." She then shook her head and walked away before saying something she'd truly regret.
Even though he considered it none of her business, her words struck a nerve. The disappointed look on her face before she left his study also drove her point across. And he had to admit, he didn't know who he was anymore, either, at least when it came to relationships. There was the longer-term relationship with Larissa that ended with a whimper, then nothing else but one-night stands and sexual conquests followed. Jen had warned him one night that that type of lifestyle can become habit forming which can then interfere with the ability to become emotionally close to people. This was based on her own personal experience, and it was something she was determined to overcome.
Tonight, Dave is accompanying her to a Chamber of Commerce banquet where she will receive an achievement award for her restaurant's continued success and commitment to fair labor. He's honored to be her fake date and incredibly proud of her.
She's stunning in her bright blue dress when she answers the door to her home. Dave offers his arm as he walks her down the steps and to his car, sneaking a few glances at her along the way. As he drives them downtown, he sneaks a few more looks at her, until she asks, "Is there something wrong?".
"You look fantastic."
"So do you," she replies, reaching for his hand that is resting on the center console. A few minutes later they pull into a reserved spot in the civic auditorium parking garage and instead of taking his arm when he helps her from the car, she grasps his hand again.
Local politicians, chamber leaders, business people, celebrities, and media darlings fill the crowded auditorium as the festivities begin. It's a lengthy awards show with several intermissions that make the evening longer, but Dave doesn't mind. He enjoys Jen's company. It's nice to be the fake date and not the center of attention for a change. When she accepts her award, he's the first to clap for her, standing from his chair without giving it a second thought.
Following her brief acceptance speech, she returns to the table where he stands again to pull her chair out for her. "Congratulations, Jen." After placing a peck on her cheek, she sits down.
"Thank you," she replies, leaning in close to him when he places his arm on the back of her chair.
At the next intermission, they walk together to the bar where Jen orders a glass of wine, knowing it's safe to have some alcohol now that she's given her speech. They chat with some other restaurant owners before turning to walk back to their table, accidentally bumping into someone crossing paths with them.
"David," the woman says in surprise.
"Larissa, how are you?" he asks.
"I'm surprised to see you here." She then turns her eyes to JJ, remembering how they argued the last time she saw her. "Congratulations on your award," she says with a diplomatic smile and a few ounces of chagrin.
"Thank you. Congratulations on your nomination," JJ says in return, the awkwardness of the situation not lost on any of them.
"Well, I suppose I should be getting back to my table. Have a good evening."
Once she's out of earshot, Jen whispers to Dave, "You look like you've seen a ghost. You okay?"
"Yeah. You think she's wondering if I was cheating on her with you?"
"Probably. Does that bother you?"
"No, actually, it doesn't," he says after giving it some thought. "I didn't like the way she treated you at the restaurant."
"Does this mean you're going to fight for my honor? How chivalrous," she giggles.
"No, it means I'm comfortable with her thinking we're a real couple," he replies taking her hand in his.
"Me, too."
Another hour passes, then the banquet comes to a close. They chat with some of the other award winners before deciding to call it a night. It's getting late and Dave must be in the office early to go over some budget items for the research group.
When they arrive at her place, he helps her from the car and walks her to the door, just as he's done a dozen times before. But tonight feels different, maybe because this was her event instead of his. It was the first time he was around her group of people in the restaurant industry, and he took note of how they admired her. He admires her, too, and not just because she's a shrewd business owner. She's personable, intelligent, has a quirky sense of humor unique to her that he adores, and the more he discovers about her, the more he wants to be around her.
"Thank you for coming with me tonight," she says before turning to unlock her front door. "I hope you weren't too bored."
"Oh," he shakes his head, "I wasn't bored at all. I enjoy spending time with you." There's so much more he wants to say, but his sense is to remain patient.
She knows him well enough to read on his face that he's holding something back. Lingering by the open door, she waits for him to speak. When he doesn't say anything, she finally steps inside.
"Jen?"
"Hmm? Yes?" she turns back to him perhaps a little too eagerly.
A smile flickers across his face at her reaction, then fades, disguising the warmth he felt. "Have you given any more thought to Cheryl's banquet? It's coming up in a few days and she'd love to have you there."
"What about you?"
He takes a small step towards her. "I'd love to have you there, too."
"Then I'd love to go."
"We can pick you up at 5:30 if that works for you."
"That sounds great." Again, he appears to be holding something back. "Is there anything else?"
There's a tinge of hope in her question, or at least he thinks so. He opens his mouth to speak, then closes it again, blinks slowly, and meets her gaze. "That's a really great color on you. Have a good night, Jen."
Four times during the night Bill rose to take care of his baby daughter. Even though he and Laura had decided to take turns, he couldn't bear to wake her when he saw how soundly she was sleeping. Twice he had to because it was time to nurse and Emilee doesn't like to take breast milk from a bottle, preferring it nice and warm directly from the source. The sleep deprivation is beginning to have an effect on him which is amazing considering some of the shifts he used to pull as a viper pilot during combat. But he at least had adrenaline flowing during the war to keep him alert. Not much adrenaline flows for diaper changes and feedings.
He recalls Laura getting up once during the night to use the bathroom, or maybe he dreamt it. Nights are a blur just like daylight hours. You sleep when you can, a few hours here, a few hours there, maybe just fifteen minutes every once in a while.
Dreams vary from the bizarre to the mundane. One time when he closed his eyes, he was on a giant cat that was running in a forest, and it could speak to him and for some crazy reason it sounded like Saul. Another time he was washing his clothes, then he burped Emilee, and had to wash his clothes again. This cycle went over and over like he was stuck in an infinite loop of baby vomit and laundry that there was no escape from.
But his dream this morning is remarkably different. Pleasant, sensual, erotic, passionate, intense. It's been so long since he's made love to his wife that he has trouble maintaining control. A deep moan rumbles from him while his hands twist the sheets, it feels so frakking amazing. His chest heaves with every breath as he slides in and out of her until he mumbles "Laura" as he climaxes. His eyes pop open when he realizes what's happened. The last time he creamed his sheets was when he was 14 years old. He'll immediately start the day with an embarrassing load of laundry. He lets out a sigh, thoroughly disappointed in himself.
That is, until he hears Laura's soft giggle from between his legs. "I thought for sure that'd wake you up."
"Gods, I thought I had a wet dream," he says relieved.
"Do you have those often?" she giggles again. "I thought they usually went away after puberty. Do you want me to wake you before I put my lips on your cock next time?"
"Not necessarily. I like having a sexy alarm clock."
"Everyday?"
"You offering?"
"As long as I wake up before you. We'll see."
"She's being really quiet this morning," he observes, nodding toward the crib, not sure if he should be grateful or worried.
"That's because I fed her and changed her half an hour ago. I decided to let you sleep since you didn't want to take turns during the night. But then I decided to have a little fun after she fell asleep."
"Did you enjoy yourself?"
"Hmmm, did I ever," she replies, placing kisses along his shaft. "It's a lot easier to do this when I don't have a huge baby belly in my way. I've missed being intimate with you." She crawls the short distance up his body to face him, lays on top of him, and kisses him thoroughly.
They're interrupted by Bill's phone. "I need to take this," he says after glancing at the screen and seeing it's Admiral Emery. "It's work." He slips out of bed and wanders into the baby room, shutting the door behind him.
Ten minutes later he returns, Laura looking at him nervously. "Pirates? Cylons?" she asks.
"No, nothing bad. I'm getting promoted."
"Oh! That's great news! What will you be? A Commander?"
"No," he chuckles. "You're not familiar with military rank, are you?"
"No. I married a military guy and I know absolutely nothing about it. So what will you be?"
"Lieutenant Colonel. And it comes with a generous pay raise. They'll have a ceremony on Picon next month and family members are invited to attend. I'd love it if you and Emilee can be there."
"Bill, we wouldn't miss it. I'm so proud of you!"
Cheryl's a handful all morning, anxiously awaiting the banquet in the evening. Sandra watches Viper Squadron II with her while their dad works a half day on campus, and, for the first time, Cheryl barely pays any attention to the movie. She's obsessed with the league stats, going over them several times, hoping that the coaches interpret them the same way she does. "Ohhh, I wanna be MVP so bad!" she exclaims.
"You already are," Sandra tells her. "You lead in almost every stat category and your team is ranked number one. You're the MVP. If they don't give you the award for that, then they're stupid."
"You really think I'm the best player?"
"Of course you are! You're amazing. I hope you get the trophy but if you don't, then it means they based their decision on politics and not who is clearly the best player. So hold your head high no matter what happens. What's important is that you continue to refine your game and that you're enjoying yourself. Trophies are just a treat."
"I guess. But I'd still like to have a trophy of my own. You and Laurie have some."
"I have a feeling there will be plenty of trophies in your future, little sis. We could always frame the results of your IQ test and hang it on the wall. Then everyone would know you're the smartest person in this house."
"Nah, I'd rather have a trophy. Everyone figures out I'm the smartest as soon as they talk to me. They don't need to see it on the wall."
"You're so humble."
"But I am the smartest. You're the most creative, the most artistic. I wish I could draw like you but I'm not talented."
"That's a really nice save, Cheryl. You have my vote for most manipulative, too."
"It's true, Sandra! I'm not trying to manipulate you."
"Hmm, okay, if you say so. Sounds like daddy's home," she says when she hears the door from the garage to the kitchen open.
"Daaadddddyyyyyy!" Cheryl yells, barreling toward her father, leaping into his arms.
"This is quite the greeting! It's good to see you, too," he says, giving her a big bear hug.
"What's for lunch?"
"Is that why you're so happy to see me? Let me get changed and then we'll see what's on the menu."
Sandra follows him to his room, having just gotten a text from Willow that she'd like to discuss. Summer session starts next week, and the dorms open this weekend. The two best friends miss each other and are hoping that Willow can stay a few days until she can move into the dorm.
"So you're picking her up tonight?" Dave asks.
"Yeah, she doesn't have a car. I'll bring her straight back here, or maybe we could get something to eat on the way back?"
"Sure," he replies. "But don't stay out late. Text me when you get home. Can you hand me my wallet?" he asks, pointing toward the dresser. "Here's some cash. Don't let Willow pay – she's our guest."
"Can I keep the change?"
"How about you say 'Thanks, dad, that's very generous of you.'"
"Thanks, dad, that's very generous of you. Can I keep the change?"
"Ha, ha, you should quit while you're ahead. Now get lost, I need to make a phone call."
"But can I-"
"YES! You can keep the change. But you have to use it to fuel up your SUV," he smirks.
"Ah! You're no fun!"
"It's part of my fatherly duties to suck the fun out of your life."
"Oh yeah?" she asks, stepping over to him to stare him down. "Well, guess what? I'm not gonna let you!" She places her arms around him and hugs him firmly. "I'm in too good of a mood with Willow coming over. So there, you don't win," she says, giving him a kiss on the cheek and a sweet smile. "Love you."
That's music to his ears because after she admonished him for his sexual escapades, she barely looked at him for several days. It helps that he hasn't seen Amy and Shayla again. Between Sandra's disappointment in him and Jen's warning, he decided it was time for some self-reflection.
"Love you, too. Let your sister know I'll be fixing lunch in a few minutes."
Dave knocks on Jen's door at 5:28 pm, Cheryl standing next to him in her pyramid team jersey, capri pants, and bear ears on her head.
She opens the door and motions for them to come in. She's on the phone looking stressed as she listens intently to the caller. Covering the microphone, she whispers to Dave that a refrigeration unit failed at the restaurant this afternoon and she's been talking to the repairman for the last hour about the quickest way to get it fixed. She finally decides on a course of action that will keep the unit working for a few days until they can replace it with a brand new one.
"I'm sorry, I know I look a mess," she says as she's standing in front of them in an old t-shirt and leggings. "Give me a couple of minutes and I'll be ready."
"No worries, we have plenty of time," Dave assures her before she disappears up the steps.
Cheryl tugs on his hand. "Daddy, I need to pee."
"Bathroom's down that hall, on the right," he points. "The light switch is just inside the door."
The fact that her father knows these details makes her curious. Lucky guess? She also noticed that he didn't need to use his GPS when driving to her house. After carefully washing her hands, she sees a lotion dispenser on the vanity, pumping a little into her palms. It smells like roses and instantly makes her think of her mother.
Dave is sitting on the sofa when she returns to the living room. A few minutes later, Jen comes down the steps. "I'm ready, just let me grab my purse and keys," she says, going to the writing desk near her kitchen.
When he stands and turns to her, his eyes sweep over her from head to toe. Her blouse is almost the same color as the dress she wore two nights ago, the one that kept him busy sneaking glances at her. Jeans that hug her figure and heeled sandals complete her outfit. She's wearing her hair down and it's brushed out, spilling down her shoulders and back.
"Is something wrong?" she asks when he stands motionless, staring at her. "Did I forget to put something on?"
"He thinks you look smokin' hot," Cheryl states. "Right, daddy?"
Of course Cheryl can read his mind. She's just as perceptive as her two older sisters. He makes a mental note to have a conversation with her soon about not blurting things out. "You look lovely, Jen."
The directions on the GPS take Sandra to a part of Caprica City she has only heard about but never visited. It's notorious for drug deals, prostitution, gang violence, murders, and all kinds of criminal activity. Twice she stops to double check the address, finding it hard to believe this is the part of town that Willow resides in. She even texts her to ask if she's in the right area, Willow replying in the affirmative along with a request to hurry up.
She almost turns around and leaves when a drunk man arguing with himself tries to climb in the passenger seat but thankfully her doors are locked and she's able to slowly drive away, leaving him behind shaking his fist at her.
The address is for a seedy run-down hotel that looks more like a brothel based on the attire of the men and women standing around outside. "I'm out front, red SUV," she texts.
Suddenly a hooded figure in sunglasses appears with a duffle bag in one hand and a backpack on her shoulder, pounding at the passenger window when the locked door fails to open. "Let me in!" she says.
"Gods, Willow, I didn't even recognize you," Sandra says after unlocking the door. She immediately locks it again after Willow tosses her bags in the back and fastens her seat belt. "What's going on with you?"
"Just drive. I'll explain later but I prefer we get out of here," she says pulling the hood around her face and slumping down in the seat.
Once they're out of the bad neighborhood, Sandra pulls over into a mall parking lot, which is where she was going to suggest they get something to eat. "Will, talk to me. You haven't said two words since you told me to drive, and I'm really worried about you."
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I don't want you to freak out."
"Why would I freak out? What's wrong?"
"Okay…just…promise me you'll stay calm."
"That depends on what you're going to tell me."
"Sandra! Please…stay calm. You still need to be able to drive us to your house – I don't have a license. Can you stay levelheaded enough to drive?"
"I'll try. My dad gave me some money so we can eat here. Do you wanna go inside and we can talk in there?"
"No, I think we should either drive through somewhere or order pizza when we get to your place."
"Are you in some sort of trouble?"
"No. But I need to show you something…and explain." She slowly pulls the hood off her head and turns her face to Sandra, revealing a large purple and black bruise on her right cheek.
"Will!" Sandra gasps.
Next, she removes her sunglasses. Her painfully swollen right eye matches her cheek.
"We're going to my house right now. We can order delivery. And you're going to have to tell me who did this to you."
"It was my dad," she whispers like it hurts too much to say it. "He's drinking again."
Sandra's breath hitches in her throat, but she forces herself to remain calm, telling herself she can fall apart once they get home. Putting the vehicle in gear, she drives out of the parking lot.
Pizza, brownies, cookies, soda, candy, pretzels, popcorn, and a neglected vegetable tray fill a long buffet table in the large conference room off the junior pyramid courts. Cheryl's on her third piece of pizza, nibbling sparingly on the carrots and broccoli her father insisted she take to balance out the endless supply of junk food. "Can I at least have some dip?" she whines.
"You can have a spoonful as long as you eat all the vegetables on your plate."
"Okay," she grumbles, taking her plate back to the table to slop some dip on it.
"Can I at least have some dip, too?" Jen whispers playfully to Dave in the same tone that Cheryl used on him.
"One spoonful, but you have to eat everything on your plate. And no arguing, Jen."
"I want two spoonfuls," she says defiantly.
"I said no arguing."
"Or what?" she asks, leaning in close to him. "You'll put me over your knee and spank me?"
Her flirtation comes as a surprise - she hasn't engaged in any since they sent inappropriate selfies to each other. Why is she flirting at a kids' athletic banquet? He chooses his words carefully. "Not that it bothers me, but I thought we had agreed on no flirting."
"You're right, we did, because I knew we'd get into trouble someday if we kept it up. But Cheryl's with us tonight, so there's no way we can get into trouble."
"Your reasoning is sound. I said one spoonful, or I'll put you to bed…hungry."
"That has all kinds of possibilities, especially if you join me." On her way to the buffet table, she gives him a sultry look over her shoulder.
A minute later she returns with Cheryl who is looking sheepishly at her father, her plate covered in dip.
"I said one spoonful, sweetheart."
"It is one spoonful! I used the biggest spoon I could find and then filled it."
Jen places her hand over her mouth to hide her smile.
"Finish your carrots. No dip," he orders.
"Look! They're doing skills games. See ya'!" Cheryl says before scampering off toward the pyramid court.
Dave rolls his eyes as Jen sits down next to him. "She doesn't listen to me. Neither does Sandra most of the time. And now that I think about it, Laurie didn't either after a certain age. Maybe Emilee will listen to her grandpa." With a heavy sigh, he shakes his head.
Jen smiles warmly at him, using one hand to console him by rubbing across the top of his shoulder while the other one grasps his hand. "Dave, your daughters hear every word you say. They may not do what you ask, but they hear you. I've told you before that you're a wonderful father and nothing I've seen has changed my mind. You're a damn sexy one, too. Now, look at my plate. Does that look like one spoonful to you?"
"It's hard to tell since it's sitting next to a plate with an entire lake of dip on it."
"Well, here's a spoon," she says, waving it in front of his face while a devilish grin forms on her lips. "Let me clean it off so you can get a better idea of how much it holds." Turning it over, she slides it into her mouth, slowly pulling it down in a sensual manner, cleaning it with her tongue and lips before showing it to him. "What do ya' think?"
Taking the spoon from her hand, he stares deeply into her eyes. "That would have been a lot sexier if you didn't have broccoli stuck in your teeth."
Snickering at the realization that she took something sexy and made it thoroughly unsexy, she asks, "Do I really?"
"Unfortunately, you do," he informs her with a smirk.
The rich quality of her laugh is pleasant to his ears, and she laughs so hard she has to rest her forehead on his shoulder for a few seconds. "I should use the ladies' room to make myself more presentable. Excuse me."
After she leaves, he pushes Cheryl's plate aside, disappointed that she tried to pull a fast one on him. It's loud in the facility with hundreds of children running around and playing, adults talking, and the buffet table being disassembled. Realizing the awards portion of the night is to start soon, he decides to hit the men's room before it begins.
He finds Jen in the hallway looking at team photos when he leaves the restroom.
"Did you ever play?" he asks.
"No, but I wanted to. My school didn't let girls on teams back then. I tried to start my own but my friends lost interest after a while, so it never went anywhere. None of the boys' teams would play us anyway. I'm happy that Cheryl has an opportunity that a lot of us never had. She's such an amazing child. I really admire her."
While she was speaking, he slipped his hand into hers. Having grown so accustomed to it, she didn't think twice about it, but now he's pulling her along with him further down the hallway.
"Dave, where are we going?"
All he can think about is getting away from the laughing children, away from parents discussing the upcoming tournament, away from everyone, and alone with her. Satisfied that he's found a secluded spot in a dimly lit area far from the banquet attendees, he pulls her to face him, slipping one arm around her waist and using his other hand to smooth her hair off her shoulder. The air around them crackles from their chemistry as he backs her up against the wall. Her hands explore him, palms rubbing his chest, one of her legs hooking around his as her breathing quickens.
"No trouble," she mumbles half-heartedly, unwilling to resist him, her face nuzzling his hand that has moved to her cheek while his thumb strokes down her lips.
His breath is hot on her ear as he leans into her whispering, "When we're together, there's always the possibility for trouble." Sliding his hand underneath her thigh, he positions her leg over his hip.
Having him between her legs is intoxicating and she can only imagine the euphoria she would feel if they weren't clothed. The heat from the friction of her jeans sliding against him combines with the warmth from her core, quickly overtaking her body. She always suspected they could create a fire between them, but this is more like an inferno, threatening to pull the air from their lungs, promising to scorch them all the way to their souls. She snakes an arm around his waist, pulling him further into her while her other hand grabs a fistful of his shirt.
"Jen, is this what you want?" he breathes in her ear.
"Yes."
He must be certain. Moving his face so he can stare into her eyes, he asks, "Are you sure? Because if this is something you'll regret tomorrow, then we have to stop right now."
"Will you regret it tomorrow?" she asks, cupping his cheek in her hand. A flicker of hesitation occurs simultaneously on each of their faces as they reconsider their actions.
Someone taps on a microphone in the conference room, the loud thuds echoing down the hallway from the PA system. It's the reality check they don't necessarily want but both need. Like a splash of cold water, it forces them to step back from each other and try to compose themselves.
What they were doing, what almost happened, what still hangs between them invades her thoughts as she forces herself to focus on why they are here. "We need to support Cheryl," she finally says.
He nods in agreement. "Together," he says offering her his hand.
The exhaustion from the last 48 hours has taken its toll on Willow. Falling asleep with her head against the passenger window, Sandra has to awaken her when they get home.
"I'm sorry," she mumbles. "I haven't slept much in the past few days."
"Let's get you inside. You can stay in my room with me, unless you want your own space, then you can use the bedroom and bathroom in the basement."
"I'd rather stay with you. I need to feel safe."
"Sure," Sandra says touching her arm. "Will, you're safe now. You can relax at our house. Nothing bad will happen to you here," she assures her with a smile.
They each take one of her bags. Sandra leads her through the kitchen, pointing out the layout of the house, then takes her to her bedroom. "My bed's big enough for both of us, and the bathroom is right through there. I share it with my little sister, so lock the door on the opposite side if you don't want her walking in on you. Just make sure you unlock it before you leave."
"Um…I haven't showered in a few days because my hotel room didn't have a private one and the people there were creepy. Can I take one now?"
"Yeah, sure, I'll get you a towel. If you want, there's a diner a few blocks away and I could order some cheeseburgers and fries and pick them up. I'll be back by the time you're out of the shower."
"That sounds really good. Thank you. I'll pay you back."
"No, you're my guest. Daddy told me not to let you pay, and he gave me money so I'd kinda like to spend it. Will, when was the last time you ate something?"
"Mmm, I don't know. I haven't felt much like eating. But I'm hungry now."
"Okay, that's good. You can use my shampoo and conditioner, and my combs are here. Do you have a toothbrush? Is there anything I can get you while I'm out?"
"No, I don't think so. You have a really nice house and I feel better now that I'm here. I'm sorry, I'd smile but it hurts my cheek."
"That's okay. Here's your towel. I'm going to drive over there now. I'll lock the door."
It only takes a few minutes for the diner to make her food, and she adds some pie to her order – one slice of apple and one slice of cherry since she's not sure which one Willow will want. When she gets home, Willow is combing out her hair so that it can air dry. The bruising on her face appears darker and more swollen, probably because of the hot shower.
They sit at the kitchen island eating their food, Willow savoring each bite like she hasn't eaten in days. Several minutes pass and they've discussed everything from the diner, how great the food tastes, the two slices of pie Sandra brought home, other snacks in the house in case they get hungry later – everything except Willow's father hitting her.
"I'm surprised you haven't asked me what happened yet."
"I was afraid you'd lose your appetite. You can tell me when you're ready."
"There's not much to tell. Dad lost his job and went out drinking. When he got home, he picked a fight with mom, which is usually how it goes when he's drunk. He started hitting her. And I…I just couldn't let that happen again. So I tried to get between them and he elbowed me in the face and then punched me in the eye."
It's Sandra that loses her appetite as she listens to her friend's story. How could her father hit her like that? "Will, I am so sorry. I had no idea it was like that at your house."
"Yeah, I know. It was okay for a while when he got out of rehab and was working again. But then something bad happened, and he went right back to drinking. It's his only coping skill. Can I have the cherry pie?"
"Sure. You can have the apple, too, if you want. I'm getting kinda full. So what happened after he hit you?"
"I locked myself in my room and called the police. The neighbors had already called when they heard my mom screaming, so they got there really fast."
"Is he in jail?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because when they showed up, my mom refused to press charges. She defended him and it was their word against mine. I couldn't stay there so I packed what I could in my bags, got on a bus, and checked into the only hotel I could afford. It was a scary place, and I didn't sleep much."
"Did you try calling Brad?"
"He's off planet on a hiking expedition somewhere, and his roommate always leers at me so I'm not comfortable staying there without him."
"Have you talked to your mom since you left? Maybe she's come to her senses-"
"No, I'm done. I can't do it anymore. She chose him over me. Now that he's hit me and gotten away with it, I'll never be safe there. I need to move on and do what's best for me. Are you sure you don't want the apple pie?" she asks after finishing the slice of cherry.
"No, go ahead. I'm sorry, Will. I feel like I haven't been a very good friend to you."
"Sandra, don't say that! You didn't know. You're being a really good friend right now. I've had a lot of time to think over the past few days and come to terms with what happened. The happiest I've ever been in my life has been when I was at college. And that's because I could focus on me and do what I wanted to do. I didn't have to worry about what was going on with my parents. I'm almost 19 years old and I'm ready to be on my own. It sucks the way that all of this happened, but something inside of me has known for a long time that it would come to this. So don't feel bad. I didn't tell you sooner because I was happy to leave that part of my life behind when I was at college."
After they finish eating and cleaning up the kitchen, Sandra offers to watch a movie with her, but Willow decides to go to bed early hoping to make up for her lost sleep from the past two days. Sandra suggests taking some pain reliever to help with her inflamed bruise and the low-level headache that has accompanied the damage to her face.
Cheryl's team accepts the trophy for first place in the regular season and being the number one seed in the tournament. The MVP award is last, and kids are getting anxious to hear who the winners are in each age level. They start with the youngest group first, which means Cheryl will need to wait for the fourth presentation.
She wiggles with excitement in her seat, but her anxiety grows as a girl that she considered to be the best player in a younger age group is passed over for a boy player that she wasn't that impressed with. The first three MVP trophies go to boys.
Her wiggles stop as she is faced with the realization that these MVP decisions may very well be based on politics like her sister suggested. But she vows to hold her head high and be happy for the winner, just like Sandra said.
As the list of nominations is read in her age group, she becomes subdued. Dave and Jen make sure to cheer loudly when her name is read and that makes her smile for a second, then she hangs her head as they say they will announce the winner next.
"The MVP for the 6-year-old age group is…Cheryl Roslin!"
"I won?" she asks, looking at her dad.
"Yes, you won! You did it!"
Her teammates give her a standing ovation as she walks to the front of the room to get her trophy and say a few words.
"Thank you! This is for my coach and my teammates because I wouldn't have won this if it wasn't for them. And I want to thank my daddy for bringing me to practices and games and cheering for me. I promise I'll eat my vegetables from now on."
When Cheryl mentioned her father, Jen placed her hand on her chest feeling her heart swell. "She listens to you," she whispers, giving him a quick hug. "I'm so proud of her."
Her coach helps her carry the enormous trophy back to her table, telling her congratulations, and shaking Dave's hand. "You've got an amazing kid here," he says before going back to his table.
Taking the remaining carrots out of the puddle of dip on her plate, she sets them on a napkin and rolls them around to remove the excess dip.
"Hey, kiddo. How about sharing one with your dad?"
"Okay," she says handing him one.
"Can I have one, too?" Jen asks.
"Is that okay, daddy?" Cheryl asks, knowing that it leaves her with only two carrots.
"Sure," he replies. Beneath the table, his hand moves to Jen's hand, lightly brushing against the back of it as they help finish off the carrots and listen to the rest of the MVP awards.
After the last one is awarded, the winners and their parents are invited to have their photos taken with their trophies. Dave stands with Cheryl in front of him, the trophy next to her.
"JJ, come on!" Cheryl says, waving at her to join them. Dave motions his approval, so she stands next to him and behind the trophy. With his arm around her and his other hand resting on Cheryl's shoulder, the three of them beam for the photographer.
"Alright, kiddo, time to get your jammies on and get to bed," Dave says, carrying the MVP trophy into the kitchen with Cheryl next to him. "And good job on the speech. I'm very proud of you for recognizing that your coach and teammates helped you win this."
"And you, too, daddy."
"Thank you, sweetheart. I'll tuck you into bed in a few minutes."
The house is quiet, which seems odd to him. If he hadn't seen Sandra's SUV in the driveway, he might have suspected she wasn't home, especially since she forgot to text him earlier. He assumes both girls must have turned in early.
After thumbing through the unopened mail sitting on the counter, he locks the kitchen door and turns out the lights, then checks in with Cheryl who is climbing into her bed. He sets the trophy against the wall opposite her bed since he knows she will likely wake up in the night to look at it, making sure she didn't dream that she won it.
"Did you brush your teeth?" he asks.
She replies by opening her mouth and pushing her lips around with her fingers, letting him examine them for leftover food. "I even flossed."
"You're quick. Sweet dreams. Love you."
"Love you, too, daddy."
After a kiss on her forehead, he pulls the covers up around her, then turns off her lamp and leaves the room. A few minutes later she's sound asleep.
Placing his wallet, wristwatch, and cell phone into the tray on his nightstand, he then takes his lounge pants and t-shirt into the bathroom with him to prepare for bed. His mind fills with thoughts of his evening, particularly of Jen. The way she lifted him up when he felt Cheryl wasn't listening to him, her laughter that tugs at his heart whenever he hears it, the warmth of her body pressed against him in the hallway, the way their hands have a way of finding each other – all these things and so much more sum to a single conclusion, one he won't be able to keep from her much longer.
When he leaves the bathroom, he finds Sandra standing in the doorway of his bedroom.
"I assumed you were in bed," he says.
"No. I've been waiting for you to come home."
"Did you have a good time with Willow tonight?"
She glances away from him, uncertain how to answer his question, causing him to feel uneasy.
"Sandra, is something wrong?"
"I need you to know that I really love you," she begins, her eyes filling with tears. "I know I don't always act like it, but I wouldn't trade you for anyone."
"Did something happen?" he asks, alarmed by her strange demeanor.
"It's Willow. When I picked her up…" A gasp keeps her from finishing her sentence. "Her face," she says motioning to her right cheek. "It's bruised, and she has a black eye." Her expression crumples as sobs escape from her throat. "Her dad hit her."