April

It's bitter cold for the time of year; rainy, and dark by late afternoon. The place is crowded with people looking for refuge from the weather. He blows into the coffee shop with a gust of wind, and spots her across the room immediately, hair pulled up in a casual mess of curls.

Liz's eyes are closed, and she smiles slightly as she relishes the steam from the cup of tea that she holds in front of her. Jack watches as she breathes the rich aroma then frowns as if she is unable to decide whether she likes it. Liz opens her eyes to face the window, probably searching for his figure in the street outside. She doesn't notice him approaching her table, and jumps a little when he announces his arrival with a deep kiss.

"You're late, Jack."

"I'm sorry. I got caught up."

He orders a coffee, and they catch up over the next few minutes. While they discuss plans for a new nursery, Liz continues to add sugar to her drink.

"Lemon, are you trying to give yourself diabetes?"

"I know it's bad, but I just can't get used to this stuff. I miss real caffeine."

"I'm sure a cup of coffee wouldn't kill you."

She frowns. "Jack, I'm trying to do this right. Don't tempt me."

This is true. She's been good; laying off the junk food and being very open-minded about her doctor-approved foods…for the most part ("Asparagus? No effing way, Jack."). Liz likes to sneak chocolate chips into her Greek yogurt when she thinks he isn't looking.

They chat for a while, and people-watch. Jack zeros in on a couple standing in line, loudly driving everyone else nuts with a never-ending stream of endearments. During the five or six minutes that he has been watching them, they've called each other 'hon' or 'babe' or 'baby' at least two dozen times. If they keep it up, he just might lose his mind.

"Do you know what you want, babe?" asks the male half of the excessively happy couple, smiling at his female companion as they near the counter.

The woman smiles back. "Not yet, hon. I'm still deciding between a cappuccino or a light cappuccino. The light isn't as yummy, but a girl's got to watch her figure, you know."

The man laughs and shakes his head. "You don't need to watch your figure, baby. You're beautiful. You're the most beautiful woman in the whole world."

Jack rolls his eyes. The woman is pretty, but she is hardly the most beautiful woman in the world. He would (maybe) give that title to a certain comedy writer who has more brains than these two combined.

"And you're the most handsome man in the world," the woman says, slinging her arm around the man's waist.

"Love you, baby," the man says.

"Love you too," the woman echoes. They share another goofy grin, followed by a lengthy kiss.

"Yechh," Liz comments. She's just taken a sip of her modified tea, so Jack can't be sure what she's referring to.

"What's wrong, darling?" he asks, a saccharine smile on his face. In case she hasn't been paying attention, he jerks his head towards the couple at the counter.

She grins, eager to play the game. "I'm afraid this tea is making me fat, sweetheart."

"Relax, my love, nothing could ever spoil your perfection."

"Gosh, I'm just the luckiest," she says gleefully. A moment later, she frowns. "I think we should stop. I kind of feel like throwing up."

He winces. "Yes, likewise. That reminds me. I meant to ask, did you…? This morning?"

"Yeah, unfortunately. I mean, they say five to twelve weeks. It's been, what, eight?" she sighs.

He covers her hand with his own. "Hang in there. It'll be worth it."

"Yeah, easy for you to say. You're not the one barfing your guts out everyday," she grumbles.

Jack winces. "Lovely."

"Fine, it's not all bad. I haven't started getting fat yet. Well, except in my boobs."

He studies her chest, unable to really tell through her thick sweater, and is merely reminded that they've been unable to have sex lately. They are both to blame for being so busy, but he makes a mental note to wrap things up early tonight at work.

"You won't 'get fat', Lemon. You're growing a baby, which is hardly a disorder. Though you do eat like that of an obese person."

"Maybe I'm just eating for two, Jack."

"Yes, in that case, two obese people. I admit that it's one of the things that I love about you, though."

"Aww. That's sweet. Can I have your muffin?"

…

Daffodils appear at the corner grocers, and Jack trades his dark navy ties for…light navy ties. Soon, the last week of April is upon them, and Liz begins freaking out.

"Why did we think a May wedding was a good idea?" she says, ripping the seal off of the light pink bakery box. Despite her words, her actions indicate that she does not have an issue with sampling wedding cakes.

"Lemon, relax. It will merely be us and a couple of friends in front of a priest. Not a big deal, and exactly as we planned."

"That was before your mother decided to get involved." Liz stuffs a petit four into her mouth.

"I tried to tell her at the last minute, but Colleen is psychic, Lemon. She called, and I couldn't very well keep it from her!"

He takes a bite of cake, frowning.

Liz swallows. "Yes, well, now she's arranging florists and caterers and—"

"At least she approves of you. Our lives could be made much more difficult than they are."

"Yeah, I'm so glad that I'm allowed to marry you, Jack," she grumbles, and reaches for another pastry.

"You should slow down. You have to fit into your dress—"

"And tuxes are one size fits all, right? Shut up, Jack."

…

"Jack, I have something to tell you."

"Enlighten me, Lemon."

"Okay. I'm telling you that I have written my last book."

"Haven't you only written one?"

"Actually, I just finished the second Dealbreakers book. So that's two."

"I'll bite. Why is this the last one?"

"Because I don't want to write any more books."

"I see. Again, why?"

"Because I don't need to."

"Of course you don't need to. Money certainly isn't an issue now—"

"No, that's not what I mean, Jack. I'm trying to say that it doesn't make sense for me to write anymore books that focus on ending relationships. Because I've found my own. A good one, that I don't want to end."

"So you no longer need to project your bitterness into the literary world. Is that what you are implying?"

"Well, that sounds mean, but yeah. Pretty much."

"I'm proud of you, Lemon."

"You're just happy that I can't insult you by writing you into my books anymore."

…

They sit on a bench in Central Park, a cup of coffee in Jack's hands, a cup of tea in Liz's, and a cinnamon roll between them. Jack's plastic fork spars with hers as they heatedly debate over the rights to the gooey center of the pastry. Just as he is deciding to allow her to have the best bite, the flood gates open and a torrent of rain pours down from the skies onto the unsuspecting couple.

Jack shouts out and Liz gasps, their cinnamon roll melting instantaneously between them. He leaps up and tosses out their cups and the rest of their trash, cursing under his breath at the abrupt change in weather.

"What the hell!" Liz whines, holding her arms around herself. "I have a budget meeting upstairs that I can't be wet for, and I don't have time to change."

If there wasn't rain pouring all around them, he would stop and stare at her until she realized how she sounded, but there is no time. Shrugging off his jacket, he drapes it over her head and slips an arm around her waist, guiding her forward.

"I can't really stop the rain, Lemon," he shouts over the noise as he propels her towards the waiting town car.

The traffic conspires against them and they are forced to wait as a steady stream of cars rush by before they can cross the street.

"This sucks," Liz grumbles.

Jack points out, "You could have brought an umbrella…"

"No, I'm kind of just mad about the cinnamon roll. I wanted to eat it."

Jack looks over at her, her face in a childish pout, her hair drenched and clinging to her head. He watches as the spring rain drips down her face, following the line of her nose and down to her lips. When she stomps her foot, he laughs and reaches out to drag her into his arms. One of his hands moves to her face, pushing the wet hair out of her eyes.

There isn't much that is soft or gentle about his kiss as he presses his lips to hers, but he keeps his mouth closed for the six seconds that he holds her against him. This turns out to be a bit of a challenge, because he is pretty distracted by her soaking blouse.

When he releases her, she steps back, astonished and flushed.

"What was that for?" She breathes, the rain forgotten.

He shrugs. "You are cute when you're angry."

Even though he's said in the past that she's too old to be cute, she seems to accept this answer.

…

"Jack, come on, just try one."

"No."

"Please?"

"Even I draw the line somewhere, Lemon."

"You have to. It's Easter!"

"Again, no. And you don't celebrate Easter."

"Well, they're not just for Easter, Jack. They're for…spring."

"Forget it."

"Aright, fine. I don't care."

"And I don't think you should be eating those. The sugar coating alone is probably giving the fetus heart palpitations."

"Can't you just say 'baby'? 'Fetus' is weird."

"Why? It's a perfectly accurate term."

"Whatever. Are you sure you don't want one?"

"Lemon, I'm not going to eat Peeps."

"More for me."

…