That's How You Know

Music's Power

Well, does he take you out dancing, just so he can hold you close?

Dedicate a song with words meant just for you, ooo-ooo…

He'll find his own way to tell you, with the little things he'll do!

That's how you know, that's how you know…

He's your love… he's your love…

"T.G.I.F.," Morgan sighed, flopping onto the couch as the trio arrived home.

Giselle, still holding the flowers, looked at Robert quizzically.

"She's saying she's glad it's the weekend," he explained. "You know – Thank God It's Friday." He looked at his exhausted daughter. "So, how was your karate lesson?"

Morgan shrugged.

"It was fine, I guess. Just boring like always." She frowned. "Why do I have to do it?"

"Self-defense classes are very practical – especially in a city like this," Robert insisted. "Besides, you know I can't pick you up till six."

She lifted her chin defiantly, challenging: "You did today."
"I left work early," he admitted.

"But Dad," Morgan moaned, "I don't like it there. Nobody talks me." Her eyes dropped. "I don't think anybody likes me."

Giselle's eyes widened in concern.

"Don't worry, Morgan. I'll protect you," she said, enveloping the girl in a hug.

"From what? I recall us rescuing you not too long ago… from a certain fall off a billboard," Robert reminded her. "Morgan's a big girl. She needs to learn good habits – staying with something, independence, how to make friends. It'll be good for her."

Straightening up, Giselle put on her angriest face.

"Why do you have to be so serious all the time? Morgan's just a little girl, not a… a…"

She faltered, not knowing the phrase.

"…businesswoman?" Robert guessed.

"Yes," she snapped, flustered.

Morgan, tired and bored, rolled her eyes and went off to her room, grumbling.

"Morgan is my child and I will make the decisions regarding her activities," Robert declared.

"She just wants to have fun!"

"Life isn't about just having fun, Giselle," Robert said sternly, turning to remove his wet coat and place it on the nearby rack.

"It's not just about work and money and what you think is right, either!" Giselle insisted, sounding more upset than mad. "Robert, she's only eight. And she won't be for long."

Robert froze.

"Does she know you love her, Robert?"

"What?"

Giselle heaved a great sigh, like a long-suffering mother. She knew he had heard her.

"Does she?"

"Of course she does," Robert said quickly, recalling this conversation from before, about Nancy. But if was different now. Of course he loved Morgan. He loved her more than anything else in the world. He just wasn't so great at saying so.

Oh, God. That's exactly what his client at the divorce agency had said…

"Of course," he repeated, briskly. "She knows. I don't have to tell her. She knows."

Biting her lip as if unsure, Giselle looked at him patiently.

"You know," she said quietly, "my bunny friends back in Andalasia are lucky. Their mouths are very large, but their ears are even bigger. And they're the happiest creatures I know."

"We'll talk about this later," Robert said, lowering his eyes. "You should go get changed before you catch the flu."

Giselle huffed and shoved the flowers at him.

Exhaling, Robert sat down on the couch, running a hand through his hair. Being with Giselle was an emotional roller coaster. If only she hadn't discovered the feelings of anger and sadness. But he supposed excessive happiness could be just as annoying.

The longer he thought, the harder it was to be mad at Giselle. And the more invasive her song became.

She was changing in his bedroom. He crossed his leg over the other and jiggled his foot. He smiled slightly at the remembrance of their crazy day in Central Park – the whole city had sung along with her.

That's it.

Morgan knew that she loved him. But did Giselle?

He stroked the flower's petals and set the vase on the coffee table so he could get up.

Then he cleared his throat.

"How does she know, you love her?"

His voice cracked slightly at the pause, and he cleared his throat again. He had a very nice voice, in actuality, but he didn't use it frequently, and for some reason he was sweating. Though that shouldn't have affected anything.

"How does she know, she's yours?"

He heard a distinct giggle and shied away from the open door to Morgan's bedroom. He flushed, realizing that she was listening.

"Morgan," he hissed, sneaking into the room. "I'm trying to apologize here."

"Sorry, Dad," she whispered loudly, pretending to be discreet. "I've just never heard you sing before…"

Robert pursed his lips and tried again.

"Well, does he take you out dancing, just so he can hold you close?"

This chorus was particularly memorable, as he was particularly opposed to it. Singing and dancing just weren't his thing. He guessed they were, now.

Giselle, in a large nightshirt of Robert's, poked her head tentatively out from behind the frame of his door.

"Robert? What are you doing?"

"Dedicate a song with words meant just for you, ooo-ooo!"

"Robert!" Giselle cried, leaping out into the hallway and taking his hands to swing him around. "You're singing! Again – again!"

Chuckling, Robert patted his throat with mock concern.

"I don't know… have to keep my voice in shape."

"C'mon, Daddy, please," Morgan begged.

"Well, we have to go somewhere for dinner, don't we?"

Giselle's face lit up.

"Let's go to the Italian place!" she cried insistently.

"No. I have something better in mind…"

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When everyone was warm and changed, Robert intended to make good on his melodious promise.

So he did.

Somehow, rather mysteriously in his opinion, the rain had stopped. Giselle was in his arms and they were on the dance floor in the middle of Central Park and they were dancing. To his surprise, it was going rather well.

Her head was on his shoulder and she was humming along to the song that was playing, even though she didn't know what it was. They were circling lazily around on the hardwood, with Morgan in sight as she danced around on her own. Both of his girls looked beautiful, Morgan in her princess dress, and Giselle in an equally beautiful and dramatic pink poofy thing of some sort. He decided not to bother explaining it to himself and just concentrated on the pattern of his feet.

"Onetwothree, onetwothree…"

"You're counting," Giselle reminded him softly.

"Sorry." He had been trying not to.

"Just let yourself sway to the music."

Robert relaxed and did as told, letting his dance partner guide him around the floor as the stars twinkled above.

"Good," Giselle murmured, snuggling closer to him in the crisp night air. She looked at him, curious, as she recognized the tune that he had begun to hum.

"That's how you know…"

"That's how you know…"