He'd been avoiding Bradley's calls for weeks. He couldn't muster up the courage to tell her whatever had been between was over; it was easier to let it fade into nothingness. So far, it was successful and Norman thanked God for that. He hated letting people down. As for Norma, well, he couldn't quite figure where he was on her radar. Boyfriend, yes, but she hardly gave him anything to work with when it came to her personal life. He supposed he couldn't blame her. He knew all about the urge to keep people at bay.

He didn't want what he had with Norma to be like that, but he'd give her the time she needed if that's what it took. Meanwhile, he had to deal with his family's inquisitions. Tonight was the dinner that could make or break his future with Norma. He'd shrunk away into the kitchen when his mother finally took a breath and found Dani sitting at the table, coloring in the blue around Spongebob's eyes.

"Hey, short stuff. What's going on?"

"Coloring." She kept her focus on what was in front of her.

Norman felt the unease. It made him shake. "Are you okay?" Dani shrugged as Norman settled into the seat beside her. "What's wrong, Dani?"

"I'm not supposed to tell you."

"Tell me what?"

"About Ms. Calhoun's boo boo."

Something cold burst in his blood stream. "Is she all right? What happened?"

"She ran into a door. She isn't hurt bad, Uncle Norman."

He took a sharp breath and chuckled. "Don't scare me like that, kid. Geez."

"Sorry, Uncle Norman."

"You're fine. Go back to coloring."

She couldn't decide how she wanted to present herself tonight. Wholesome? Infatuated? Did it matter? Norman would defend even if she showed up in full hooker garb. Norma took comfort in that thought as she pulled her favorite blue and white floral print dress off a hanger. A cardigan would finish off the ensemble and she'd come off harmless and innocent. Perhaps that was for the best.

Her bedroom door creaked open and John stood there, studying her studying the dress. "Where are you going?"

"To a friend's house. She runs a book club."

"Oh. How long will you be out?"

She looked at him, her eyes icy, her fingers squeezing around fabric. "A few hours at most. Don't worry. We won't get into any trouble."

"I believe you."

"I'm glad, honey." She brushed her lips on his cheek. "Now, let me get dressed so I can go and come back. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Okay."

Never in her life had she ever seen Norman more nervous. He fiddled with his tie – and yes he was wearing a tie to a dinner party in his own house – and surely began fiddling with his shoelaces, then his hair, then the parts of his shirt that were tucked into his pants. Emma grabbed at his hands and led him to the couch. She couldn't take it anymore. "Hey, hey. Would you stop? You're making me anxious."

Norman's ridiculously blue eyes fixated on her. She could see him on the edge of yelling at her, but he instantly relaxed when she smiled at him and smoothed out his tie for him. "Everything's gonna be fine."

He went silent for a while, just listening to his mother move around in the kitchen. Clanging pots and the sound of the fridge opening and closing. On the air, there was the thick smell of her specialty pot roast. Norman slid his fingers through Emma's and pulled her into an embrace, her head cradled into the space between his neck and shoulder. He leaned back into the cushions and sighed. The TV was playing a rerun of Family Ties; he found that strangely appropriate. "I'm sorry, cupcake."

She rolled her eyes at the overly affectionate and snarky nickname he'd given her in middle school. "Jerk-off."

"I would, but it'd feel much better if you helped."

She lifted herself away from him and smacked at his arm. "Jesus, Norman."

"That is what you would be saying. Good impression." He winked.

She hit him again and again while he playfully struggled to catch both her hands. She collapsed to his chest and laughed. There was a knock on the door. "Come in! It's open."

Emma continued to giggle against him as she tried to extract herself. Norman let her. The new person cleared their throat. "Hey."

Norman blushed hard at the realization that it was Norma and stood to greet her, his eyes still alight with mirth. "Hi." He kissed her softly, only kind of annoyed that she barely responded.

Beside them, Emma was readjusting herself and shaking her head. Norman put an arm around Norma's shoulders. "Emma, this is Norma. Norma, this is Emma."

Emma put out a hand. "It's nice to meet you. Norman hasn't stopped talking about you."

Something like smugness threw a shadow over Norma's features as she cuddled a little further into Norman's embrace and took Emma's unspoken offer of a truce. "Good to meet you. You know, I think Norman was a little scared to bring you up to me. I can see why. You two seem…close." She was trying not to sound jealous. Fuck, she really was. Still, it burned in her guts and weaved itself around her heart and her windpipe and her sanity. Why the hell did it matter so much? She had no answer.

Emma's grin became somewhat uneasy. "We've known each other a while." She locked gazes with Norman. Norma caught the silent words that passed between them. After a long second, Norman cleared his throat. "Come on. I want you to meet my mom."

Dylan thought maybe he'd stepped into an alternate reality. One where his brother actually smiled and seemed at ease. It was refreshing for Dylan, who was so used to his wrecked, brokenhearted little brother who never got his way. It made Dylan smile, too, as he sat across from Norman and his new girlfriend, their hands entwined on the tabletop, both of them engaged in conversation with his mother.

Dani sat on the other side of Norman, her eyes intent on Norman's profile. She called his name and he turned to look at her, his smile suddenly all the brighter for it. Dylan had never in his life felt such peace.

"So, Mrs. Bates, what do you do?"

"I'm an accountant. Have been for almost twenty years now."

Dylan noted his mother's joy, too. She seemed so excited that Norman had finally let the past go. Even if Dylan knew better, he loved seeing his mother's usual stone demeanor melt. Norma nodded and squeezed down on Norman's hand.

"How long have you been teaching?"

Norma broke her intense look with Norman to address their mother again. "About ten years. Believe it or not, it wasn't the first thing I wanted to do."

"No?"

"No. I wanted to be a writer. That didn't work out so well."

"I'm sure you were fine at it, babe." Norman cut in.

"You're only saying that because you're obligated." Norma shot back knowingly.

"Of course I am." He laughed. "I wouldn't be a good boyfriend otherwise, would I?"

Dylan was sure he was the only person at the table who saw Emma's clenched fists on the table and the hard lock of her jaw. He was trying to remember a time when he'd seen her like this; nothing came to mind. She'd always been so accepting of Norman's…endeavors. Dylan filed the reaction away for later and decided he would ask her about it. The next thing he tuned into was Van's voice from beside him. "You know, Norman used to write, too. In high school."

"Oh, really?" Norma trapped Norman in her crosshairs again. "You never told me that."

"That's because it's embarrassing to admit that I wrote poetry. Thanks, Van."

"No problem, sweetie." She winked at him. "It's what sister in laws are for."

"Honestly, I think you read the wrong handbook."

Dylan chuckled and pressed a kiss to his wife's shoulder. "I think he might be right on this one, honey."

"What do you know?"

It was such an easy atmosphere that even when it faded into silence, it wasn't awkward or unwanted. It was calm. Norma was the next one to speak. "This is really fantastic, Mrs. Bates. You think I could get the recipe?"

"Oh, absolutely."

"I don't know, babe, my mother's pot roast is famous. I'm not sure you could replicate the magic."

Norma shot him a teasing glare. "Do you doubt me?"

"No, I do not. Just…"

"I'll show you."

Norman brushed her lips with his own. "I can't wait."

His mother stood from the table. "Come with me, Norma. The recipe's in the kitchen."

Now, the silence was awkward and it was concentrated between Emma and Norman. From her place beside Dylan, she visibly fretted. "Norman?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I talk to you for a second? Alone?"

"Sure."

"I don't trust her."

His face twisted into disbelief. "What?"

"Come on, Norman. You don't see how phony she is?"

"No. She's been perfectly kind all night."

Emma scoffed. "That's exactly my point! She hit all the right notes at all the right times. No one does that, Norman. She knows how to work a room."

"You're being ridiculous, Emma. And, frankly, a little paranoid."

"I'm not. There's something off about her, Norman. I'm telling you."

He held up a hand to stop her from going any further. "I don't want to hear anymore. If you're gonna insult my girlfriend than you can leave."

"What?"

"You heard me."

"Fine. I'm going. Whatever."

He couldn't watch her leave, so he slinked back to the dining room, where Dylan studied his obvious melancholy. "What was that all about?"

"Nothing. Don't worry about it."

Later, when everyone was gone and the kitchen was clean and the world was quiet, Emma's worries gnawed at his mind. Norma was curled into his side, quietly watching the old movie that was playing on TV. Every once in a while, she shifted to get more comfortable, giving a warm smile as she did. Something about the way she was was handcrafted, he knew. She was almost too kind and too understanding and too soft. Emma was right. But, then again, Norma was a teacher. She was forced to smear on the empathy a little too thick.

Norman kept telling himself that over and over. Eventually, he could even convince himself of it. Another question came to the surface. If Norma was truly playing him and his family, what was she hoping to gain? That was one thing he couldn't figure out and within that confusion, he found the comfort he needed. There was nothing he could give her. "Norma?"

She rose at the sound of her name. "Yeah, baby?"

He hesitated. "Tonight went well, didn't it?"

"Yeah. Totally. Your family's great."

"They are. They are. Norma?"

"What is it?"

Again, his question stuck in his windpipe. He coughed. "Um…do you like me?"

"Why would you ask me that? You know I do, baby. In fact, I really, really like you."

"It's just…Emma had this ridiculous idea that you…"

"Why would you let Emma tell you how I feel?"

"She's my best friend. She's been looking out for me my whole life."

"So what? Emma's not in this relationship. You are. I am. This is us. Don't question us. Please." She cupped his face and touched her forehead to his. "Listen to me. I have feelings for you. Okay? I care about you. Don't let anyone tell you different."

"Okay."

She kissed his lips soft and beamed at him. Her eyes sparkled in the light from the TV set. "Good."