Having a broken foot was a perfect excuse for not leaving the house, but Marina found that after Ms. Hurst's visit, she received a flood of letters from concerned neighbors and friends, wishing her a speedy recovery, with not a few of them wondering why she hadn't made it known that she was injured so they could aid her. The Tuttles even sent her a large bouquet of flowers. She displayed them in a milk jug, as she had no vase, but they brightened up the kitchen very nicely all the same.

Mrs. Crane came every morning, bustling about with great energy. She more or less evicted Philip from the house and took over Celeste's care. "Don't you worry about a thing – I shall take it all in hand."

She went into the kitchen to make tea and smiled at the flowers. "Oh how lovely! Did Philip get you these to bribe you into staying in his house?"

Marina started at the mention of staying. She wasn't sure what exactly Philip had told his mother after all – or what Mrs. Crane had taken from the exchange anyway. "No, those are from the Tuttles, when they heard of my injury." She looked up at Mrs. Crane and smiled apologetically. "I hope you're not upset at my decision?"

Mrs. Crane sat down next to her. "I won't say I wasn't a little disappointed, but I understand it is your decision to make. Is it your decision isn't it? Philip hasn't somehow convinced you to stay to take care of him?"

Marina laughed at the thought. "No, he hasn't." These days he spent more time taking care of her than the other way around. She took Mrs. Crane's hand and nodded at Celeste. "I don't think Celeste is prepared to leave him. She loves him too much."

Mrs. Crane nodded. "Yes, you're probably right. Well, if ever you do change your mind, you are always welcome to come to me."

"Thank you."

Spending so much time with Mrs. Crane reminded her of why she wanted to stay though. It wasn't that they didn't get along, or that Mrs. Crane was not kind. She was just so different from Marina, and Marina never felt quite comfortable in her own house with her around. She loved Mrs. Crane dearly, but Marina always felt exhausted when she went home for the night.

When Philip came home that night, Mrs. Crane had made dinner. She didn't stay to enjoy her own cooking though – as usual she had made plans with a friend. She kissed Philip on the cheek, told him to be good (as though he was ever anything else), and sailed out into town.

Marina let out a relieved breath and settled further down in her chair in the parlor.

"I brought you something," Philip said, and he left the room.

Marina frowned after him, and turned to Celeste with a face. "What do you think it is? A new pen? A goat? Expensive jewelry?" She pulled funny faces and Celeste laughed.

Philip came back into the room and handed Marina a wooden cane. "Seeing as you refuse to stick to bed rest, I thought you should have this," he said.

Marina took the cane – a simply carved, sturdy piece of wood – and handed Celeste to him so she could try it out. It did make moving around less painful, and she hobbled around more confidently as she practiced. "Thank you," she said, but Philip was already engrossed with Celeste, blowing raspberries on her neck and making her giggle uproariously. Marina let him take over her care for the night, happy to take care of her foot instead.

That night she lay awake in bed until late, tossing and turning. Her mind kept turning on various things, worrying about Mrs. Crane and Philip. She tried imagining what her future with Philip would look like. They had agreed to continue living together, but what would that look like? Forever living mostly separate lives? She tried to imagine her life decades from now, with a young adult Celeste and her and Philip still the same, still avoiding each other. She just couldn't see how it work.

She wasn't the only one awake: there was still light coming from Philip's room.

She got up and knocked softly on the adjoining door.

"Yes?"

"May I come in?"

"Oh, yes." When she opened the door he was standing by his desk, though he had clearly been working. She sighed at his habits.

"Sorry to bother you so late…"

His mouth quirked up in a little smile. "Should I put cushions around all my furniture?" he asked.

"Very funny," Marina said flatly, though she couldn't hold back her own grin. She looked at his desk, and then gestured for him to take a seat again. He sat down, watching her warily as she fidgeted, not sure why she had come here anymore.

"I just wanted to speak to you about… our relationship," she said finally, cringing as the words came out of her mouth.

Philip turned his chair towards her and she froze under his gaze. "Oh?"

"Right. Because…" she paced a little, trying to contain her nervous energy. "Because we do have a sort of relationship, even if we didn't really choose each other." She winced, berating herself for bringing that up. "Still, we've lived together for over two years now and… I just think, if we're going to continue living together, and raising Celeste together, then we need to have better communication. You should tell me when you want something, or when you disagree. Don't just act as though it is all up to my decisions and desires. We are two people here. We should be on equal footing, here at least. So if you want something you should just… tell me." She finished softly.

"Just tell you?"

"Yes." Marina nodded. "Please. Before I break any more bones against your furniture."

Philip's lip quirked up in a smile and he nodded. "Alright. For the sake of your toes, I will let you know."

"Good." Marina stood watching him, but he just looked back at her, waiting for her to say something more. "Well? Do you have anything you want to tell me?" she asked.

He blinked, and looked around his room, trying to think of what to say. "I... Not at the moment, no."

Marina sighed internally and turned back to the door. "Very well. Goodnight Philip."

"Goodnight Marina." She opened the door to her room, and he said softly, "I am glad you decided to stay here with me."

She turned and smiled at him. "As am I."

Her foot slowly got better. Once the swelling and the colour went down, it was obvious that the orientation of her toe had veered off to the side in a decidedly unnatural direction. Perhaps if the doctor had put a splint on it when the break was fresh… But it was too late to have regrets about that. She could get around very well with the cane, though part of her missed leaning on Philip and watching him blush every time she leaned in too close for his comfort.

Mr. Locke retired while Marina was still using the cane. The town inn was rented out to host a celebration and farewell for him. As it was his partner who was retiring, Philip could hardly decline to go to that evening.

Marina laughed at him as he got ready to go out, putting on his coat with a long-suffering expression.

"One would think you're going out to face a firing squad – not a party for your friend!" she teased him.

He cracked a smile at that. "Are you sure you don't want to go?" he asked, not for the first time. "I could stay back and watch Celeste…"

Marina laughed and looked down at Celeste, already dozing in her lap. "No, you don't get to use her as an excuse this time. You go on; I'm sure you'll enjoy yourself once you're there."

"I'm sure…" he replied skeptically. He headed to the door, but turned back one more time. "Are you certain you don't want to come? I could get Harriet to come look after Celeste for a bit."

Marina shook her head. She knew what he was trying to do. She was no longer so afraid of leaving the house as she had been before Ms. Hurst's first visit, but she was looking forward to having the night to herself and Celeste. Besides, she found it amusing that he was finally the one to go out and leave her with Celeste. She thought it might be good for him, to practice being in company a bit.

By the look on his face as he left, he didn't agree with that sentiment.

She had a nice quiet evening with Celeste. She read a bit while Celeste napped, and then they played around when Celeste woke again. Hours later, once Celeste was properly down in bed, she heard Philip coming in the front door. She could hear him fumbling in the dark, and a thump that sounded painful, so she went downstairs with a lit candle to help him.

He was still standing by the front door, with his shoes off and one arm in his sleeve, the other hanging out. He blinked up at Marina, his eyes shadowed in the flickering light. "Marina…?"

She took a few more steps toward him, and then she could smell the alcohol on him. "Of course it's me – who else would it be?" she snapped. "Are you drunk?"

He was quiet for a long time, evidently considering her question, and then he finally nodded gravely. He struggled with his coat, and managed to fully disentangle himself from it. He tried once to get it on a hook, and after the second attempt failed he just shook his head and let the coat fall on the ground. Marina tried not to laugh at his feeble efforts, but she couldn't help giggling a little.

He frowned at her, and she quieted down, then he said, "I need to sleep."

She laughed. "You do need to sleep, but come to the kitchen and eat something first. It will help settle your stomach."

He nodded and headed for the kitchen. She grabbed his elbow when he swayed a little too far to the left and herded him to sit at the table. She put a thick slice of bread in front of him and started boiling some water. She had some mint hanging above the stove – she remembered her mother making mint tea for her father whenever he drank too much.

Philip was silent the whole time, methodically chewing his slice of bread. Marina had never seen him drunk before – had never known him to drink much at all – and she was curious what he would say in this state.

Nothing, apparently.

"Did you have a good time?" she asked him.

"Mm, yes."

"Did many people turn out?"

He nodded.

"And did Mr. Locke enjoy himself, do you think?"

"I think so."

Marina poured the boiling water over a mug of mint leaves and put it in front of Philip. Then she sat across from him and watched him, resting her chin on her hand. He had finished his bread, but he wouldn't meet her eyes, looking around the dark corners of the kitchen instead. He pulled the mug towards him.

"Careful, it's very hot," she warned him. His hands stilled on the mug.

"Philip."

He met her eyes finally, and she smiled at him. For a brief moment, he returned her smile, then he looked confused and looked away.

"I'm glad you had a good time," she said. She pushed off the table to her feet. "Drink all your tea before going to bed – it will help in the morning."

He nodded and she left him to finish his tea and went to bed. As she climbed into bed, she sighed. He was a very boring drunk after all.