Thanks for reviewing, everyone! Here's the next chapter! Btw, don't think I will be able to update next week. My left shoulder is inflated, which means that I can only type with my right. Since that's not going very fast, I won't have another chapter ready. Hope to see you in two weeks!


"Babe, stop fidgeting."

His hand stilled above his sling. "How do you know that?"

"I know you."

"You're on the phone. You can't even see me."

Dee shifted gears and turned a corner. "You have that distracted tone again. It means you're fidgeting. Stop being nervous. There's nothing to be nervous about. They'll love you."

"I don't have anything to offer you."

Sighing, Dee shook her head, knowing he'd pick up on it. "Babe, we've been over this. I don't care about the luxuries. I've got all I ever wanted. My parents are going to be happy because I am happy."

"We can't tell them about my job."

"You work in security."

"What are they going to say about my past?"

"They're going to admire that you've made something of yourself, despite everything that's happened."

"What are they going to think of the house?"

"They'll love the house because we love the house."

"My arm?"

"Anybody can have an accident." She parked the car and turned the engine off. "Grisha, stop putting yourself down. There's nothing to be ashamed of." She muttered something he didn't get.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

He wasn't going to get her get away with it. "No, what?"

Taking a chance, she came out with it. "Start living up to the image of the husband that I have in my head, okay? He looks exactly like you, but with a bit more confidence."

That startled him. Husband? She honestly thought he was husband material? "Husband? Me?"

"Love of my life, husband, father of my children. Preferably all three."

He could hear her smile. "Okay." He could live with that. "Okay." If she thought that highly of him, maybe it was time that he started to believe in himself a bit more, too. His worries put at ease, for now, he let her go. "Go and get your parents. I'll go downstairs and see if Jess can use my help. Or at least, my company."

"You do that. Make yourself useful for a change." Looking up, she handed her car keys over to the valet and went inside. "I'll see you in a little bit. I'll be home in time for lunch. We'll do dinner with them tomorrow."

"Yes." The next words out of his mouth were becoming a habit. "Be careful. I love you."

"I love you, too." With a smile, she disconnected the phone and greeted the receptionist. "Good morning, Frank."

"Good morning, Ms. Barrow. How are you?"

"Wonderful, Frank, thank you." Toying with her sunglasses in one hand, she straightened her skirt with the other. "Did they have a good trip?"

"According to your mother, everything was lovely. She seemed well rested."

"Yes, well, my mother is not one to worry about things, except for me. How was papa?"

"Mr. Barrow seemed a bit stressed, but I believe that everything was better this morning. They're having breakfast on the patio."

Deja nodded, taking the key card he offered. "Still the Stone Canyon suite, Frank?"

"As always, Ms. Barrow."

Fondly, she reached over and tapped his hand. "Thank you for the wonderful service, as always. I'll go and greet them."

As she found her way down the familiar halls, she shook her head at the extravagance of it all. Her parents always stayed in the same suite, in the same hotel, for as long as they'd been coming here. And as much as she wanted to see her parents, and as much as she was familiar with the hotel and its people, she'd much rather be at home, in their garden, for breakfast. This wasn't her anymore.

Opening the door with her card, she wondered through the suite over to where her parents were sitting, outside. Her father, as always, buried in the London Times, ever the Brit, and her mother with her face up at the sun.

For a moment, she savored the peaceful picture her parents presented and grinned, shaking her head. It was always good to see them in the flesh. "Good morning," she softly said, approaching them.

Her mother's eyes popped open and she was out of her chair before Deja could step out of her way. "Hija!"

The rapid conversation about how she was, and the inspection of her appearance that followed in quick Spanish, were lost on her father. Even after almost thirty-five years, he'd never completely mastered Spanish. Especially not in the tempo her mother was speaking. So she told her mother about the basics and then went over to her father.

"Good morning, papa."

Alistair Barrow wrapped his daughter in a short hug. "Good morning, darling." Keeping her at arm's length, he inspected her. "You look wonderful. Every bit your mother."

Rolling her eyes, she nodded. "Thank you." Inspecting the overloaded breakfast table, her eyes rested on the teapot. "Is there some tea left? I've had breakfast, but tea would be great."

"Of course."

Her father pulled her chair out and she sat down. "Did you have a good trip? How was Amsterdam?"

Maria Barrow let her husband do the talking as she poured tea for her daughter. The two weeks they usually spent in LA always were too short. Of course they tried to find time to Skype and FaceTime, but seeing her live was always such a treat. Her eyes were happy, and calm, which was always a good indicator of how she felt. They had been like this for months now, and Maria could only be grateful. Maybe there was finally someone in her life that deserved her.

Finally, Alistair put his cup down. "And what about you, darling? How have you been? How is everything at the café? Still not tired of it?" he teased, knowing that his daughter was probably never going back to London.

Deja traced the rim of her cup and shook her head. "Still not tired of it. It's still exciting and I still love the weather around here, and the people. Lindy is still my best friend and business is booming." She took another sip. "How's Nanna?"

"Still strong. Hoping to see you sooner rather than later."

"She always does. Maybe we can take ten days at the end of the summer, but I'm not making any promises."

Her mother caught on. "We?" she prompted.

Deja felt a blush creeping up her cheeks. "I said that, huh?" It had become such habit around other people to include Grisha, that she had stopped noticing. Taking a deep breath, she put her cup down on its saucer. "I've met someone." Maria's smile encouraged her to continue. "I've met someone, and I haven't mentioned it because I wanted to see if it was going to be serious."

"Is it? Going to be serious?"

Her face barely contained her smile. "Yes, it's getting pretty serious."

Alistair narrowed his eyes at her. "Engagement serious?"

"Moving in together serious," she said. "Which, considering we've only been dating since November is a thing."

Maria nodded as she took in her daughters posture. Her eyes were calm, her smile was radiant, her voice happy. Of course she'd had the feeling something was going on in her daughter's life, but she decided that Deja had to be comfortable enough telling her. So now she was.

"Where have you met him?"

"At the café. He came in to eat, and he was so touched by the borsjst that it opened a sort of conversation. He started coming regularly after that, and one thing led to another." More blushing. Then she sobered up. "One thing, though." She shifted in her seat and faced her father.

Alistair raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"

"Promise me you'll keep an open mind? He's nervous about meeting you, about wanting to make a good impression. I keep having the same conversation with him about how he thinks he's not good enough for me and…"

"Is he?" her father interjected. "Is he good enough for you?"

Not missing a beat, she answered. "He's more than I dared to dream about."

His father was not as easily convinced as Maria was. Call it old fashioned, but Alistair Barrow was raised to respect women by his father and his grandfathers. Kevin Paulson had failed miserably. From the moment that Deja had filed for divorce, Alistair had been extra cautious about his only daughter's whereabouts and friends. He just wanted her to be happy. Happy and with someone he could be certain was not going to treat her like her ex-husband had. "Then why the open mind?"

Her heart still clenched whenever she thought about all that Grisha had endured. "His upbringing was less than ideal. He's done a lot to overcome all that, and he's turned out this gorgeous, wonderful, kind human being. But it's left him with a sense of insecurity about himself, and I fear that he'll either put up a front, or that he'll respond to questions differently out of fear for not making a good impression."

Maria understood. "He's been damaged."

"He has been. More so than I probably know."

She only wanted to know one thing. "He's not putting up a front now? With you?" She reached over for her daughter's hand. "I'm sorry for asking, querida, I just want to make sure after all that happened with Kevin."

"He's not. He's been wonderfully himself, slowly. It's been a process, but he's not that kind of guy. Even his friends vouch for that, and Marty has had the almost same upbringing as he had."

Seeing the conviction in her eyes, Maria nodded. She looked at her husband. "Alistair? Anything you would like to ask her now, then?"

Alistair shook his head, needing time to process her request and her reasons behind it. "I'll try and keep an open mind. But he better treat you like a Princess."

Deja beamed. "Oh, papa, you have no idea."