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Scheduled for Friday
by Anton M.

53: A Dramatic Ending

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Thursday, February 16 (cont.)

"I was fifteen!"

"Oh trust me, I remember! But you asked me why I did a DNA test. I answered. For once, your age is irrelevant."

"I never cheated on you."

"I never said you did. But you can't conveniently forget that you never had your period between me and the first half a dozen guys you were with!"

"I didn't get regular periods until I was eighteen! Based on the ultrasound, they calculated—"

"I was not there, Renée!" Garrett shouted. "What the fuck do you expect of me, not having that information?! You weren't fucking sure at the time." Garrett took an unsteady, controlled breath. "I am not shaming you for having other partners, Renée. I am explaining why I did a DNA test. I gave you money because you were in trouble, you were fifteen, and we agreed it was a mess! You can throw a lot of shit in my face but do not question that DNA test or why I didn't tell her. I kept it from her out of curtesy to you, for fuck's sake. Do you not understand that I put everything on the line today to have a shot at a relationship with her?!"

I stood, frozen, not having intended to listen in but unwilling to interrupt them. Quietly, I slid off my shoes, sat down on the hallway floor and rested my back against the wall next to some moving boxes. The conversation wasn't meant for my ears but I couldn't risk alerting them of my presence by opening the front door again. (Well, that, and I was a nosy little shit.)

"Why are you here, Garrett?" mom asked with a tired edge in her voice.

"I want to understand how I only now discovered that I've had a kid for sixteen years!"

"What, you want me to go back in time?! You want to be dragged through court for statutory rape? You want me to have had some shady illegal abortion because I would've needed my parents' permission? What? Which part of this are you so desperate to change? You didn't even want kids!"

"For fuck's sake, Renée. She exists now. What I did or didn't want is beside the point. Knowing her as you do, tell me you'd feel indifferent to the idea of missing sixteen years' worth of life events of your own daughter? You have my private email. Fuck, you might even have my number, I've never changed it. You could've told me privately. Do you understand what it's like to find out you could've changed your daughter's life with pocket change but instead her mother is so proud she'd rather her family be on food stamps?!"

"Why, because depositing money in your ex's bank account when she's in trouble doesn't raise any eyebrows!"

"The how is irrelevant! I could've sent you cash. I could've set up an LLC of an LLC of an LLC. There would've been infinite options for me to support you without anyone knowing about it. I would've wanted to help, Renée. I could've easily bought you guys a house, made sure Bella never had to go without—"

"We did not need your money!"

"You mean you didn't want to owe me."

"Fine!" mom snapped. "We didn't want to owe you! And I'd do it all over again if your biggest gripe with the situation is that you couldn't shower her with money."

"The fuck it is, and you know it."

The silence that followed made my heart nearly skip a beat, and I kept my ears alert for Edward's motorcycle on the driveway, but the pause was followed by Garrett's heavy sigh.

"I didn't come here to argue with you."

"Then why did you?" Mom's painfully clear voice was on the edge of emotional. "I can't go back in time, Garrett. Whatever you think I coulda, woulda, shoulda done is a moot point. We can argue all day about the risk of me contacting you during Bella's first seven years of life, or why I wasn't eager for her to contact you. Last we spoke, you didn't want kids. I couldn't have predicted your reaction, and Charlie and I didn't want to have a heartbroken kid in our hands. Neither were we eager to get sued and have our lives blow up in the tabloids. We could never risk losing her. So why are you here, Garrett?"

"I want you to allow me to have a relationship with my daughter."

"That's not up to me. Bella is free to do whatever she wants."

"And you won't turn her against me?"

"If we shit-talked you every step of the way she would've never agreed to come on a walk with you," mom retorted. "No, Garrett. But there are at least two things you must consider before you waltz in and amaze her with your money and network."

"Like what?"

"Did you apologize to her?"

"For what?"

"For having private investigators spy on her like a fucking creep, Garrett! I don't care you have the means to do it. I don't care about your intentions. It's creepy."

"I made sure she knew that I did what I needed to do."

"That's not an apology." Mom's laughter was hollow. "Ooh, boy. Some things never change."

"She understood what I meant."

"I don't care!" mom snapped, and the sound that escaped her was suspiciously close to a groan. "You have to learn how to apologize, Garrett. 'I'm sorry' is not as hard as you think it is. Because kids, they're not dates, you don't throw them off your yacht if they fuck up or if you fuck up. You fuck up and you apologize. She's too impressionable, and a man who waltzes in and never admits he's wrong isn't the kind of role model we're eager to have in her life. Not only that, but she will tear you a new one if she feels it's warranted."

"Oh, I'm aware."

Mom's voice was amused. "Yeah? Where'd you fuck up already?"

Garrett paused for so long that I thought I'd missed his response, but instead, he ignored mom's question and asked, "And your other concern?"

"I'm sorry for what happened to your sister, but Bella is not her. Don't treat this like a do-over."

"I'm not—"

"No expensive gifts, no spontaneous international flights, no treating her to—"

"That's not fair. You've been keeping her on food stamps and you're not even letting me treat her to what she deserves?!"

"It's not a matter of what she deserves, Garrett! It's a matter of raising a good human! Charlie and I have made very conscious choices to keep her feet on the ground, you do not get to dazzle her with diamonds and spoil her rotten after we have worked so hard to keep her level-headed."

"You can't possibly—"

"Garrett," mom warned. "I remember how much you enjoy showering people with presents, but Charlie and I are her legal guardians. We are her legal parents. Until she's eighteen, you must get our approval for whatever expensive shenanigans you want to involve her in."

"What if she wants to be involved? What if she wants diamonds and spontaneous trips and what what?!"

"Then we'll discuss it together! But good luck with that. She's just getting her grades back under control, she's now allowed to be 12 hours on set a day, and she just got herself her very first boyfriend. I'd love to be a fly on the wall if you suggest she ditch her last chance to be a normal teenager to eat éclairs in a French chateau with actors who have more real estate than brain cells. I don't have to ask her to know she'd rather spend that time with her boyfriend."

"A boyfriend you allowed to sleep over while she was still fifteen! How do you not see the parallels or how awfully this could've ended for the boy?!"

"I am not having this discussion with you!" mom yelled, her voice scathing. "It's complicated, I trust her, and she's sixteen now! I refuse to deny them a safe environment. Or do you not remember my mother?!"

"Your mother!" Garrett shouted back. I stood up, prepared to intervene to prevent the two from killing each other, but I stopped when I heard Garrett's silent huffing turn into wheezing, deep laughter. Even more unexpectedly, mom joined in. Listening to the halted, laughing, random words they managed to choke out, something about a "rooftop," "teaspoon" and "diarrhea," and the two were in such stitches it nearly gave me whiplash. I knew that the two had (obviously) dated, but to learn that they had stories together that made them lose it in the middle of an argument was another thing entirely.

Recovering from the absolute 180 Garrett and mom had done in less than a minute, I considered revealing myself to them, but dad called me. I declined it before my phone could buzz. Texting with Edward on the side, I told dad to show up at Edward's aunt's place with his car so that Edward wouldn't have to make seven trips to get Riley's essential stuff to our house. Dad gave me a thumbs up.

Mom and Garrett, meanwhile, presumably recovering from whatever funny memory they'd shared related to my granny, sniffed but stayed otherwise quiet. Furniture scraped across the floor, and Garrett let out an audible, humming sigh, catching his breath.

"Whatever else, I don't have any criticism of how you've raised her," he said in a soft voice. "She's beautiful. Emotionally intelligent, thorough and ever-tenacious about making her point. I've had lawyers less thorough than her."

I could just imagine mom smiling as I stifled my own.

"And so loyal," Garrett finished, hesitating. "I'm not perfect, Renée, and I don't like a lot of what you're telling me but I will concede if I must. All I really want is the chance to get to know her. That's it. If we can go over your rules and what Bella would be comfortable with, I'd like that, and I'll learn not to shower her with gifts."

"And to apologize," mom continued. "And to shrink your bountiful ego. And—"

"I'm an actor, Renée, not a miracle worker."

Mom laughed just as I muffled my own against my fist. The house got quiet before mom walked around the corner with raised eyebrows, annoyed but unsurprised.

I gave her a sheepish smile as I stepped into the living room. Garrett was sitting in the armchair, elbows on his knees, mouth open in surprise at the sight of me.

"She's also terribly, terribly nosy," mom said, assessing me. "How long have you been here for, sweetie?"

I grimaced. "A while."

The two locked eyes, probably going over everything they'd revealed in all their arguments. Wanting to move past the awkwardness as quickly as possible, I said, "Since Garrett explained why he did a DNA test."

Elbow resting on her closed fist, mom began to tear at her hair just as Garrett stood up, and both whispered my name at the same time.

"It's fine," I said, ever the people-pleaser, not actually sure if that's how I felt. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was here. My only question is—how'd you do it?"

Garrett had an apology written all over his grimace if not in his words. "A PI swiped your saliva off a glass after you left a restaurant."

"How very movie-like," I replied with a pursed-lipped smile. "I get why you did it even if I'm not thrilled about it." I turned to mom. "And I'm not upset that you didn't tell me that there were other… possibilities for, you know. But, also, can we never talk about it again?"

Mom chuckled before she hugged me. "Thank you, honey, for being so kind to us both."

Garrett stared at us as if our level of openness was unheard of, but the corner of his mouth twitched. "I'm amazed you didn't run in here guns blazing seeing how protective you are of your parents."

"My mom is no damsel in distress. She doesn't need saving."

"A shared trait, no doubt."

It was a tentative truce after their hostile beginning, but they behaved almost like normal humans as mom offered Garrett sweet tea and we discussed our mandatory united front for tomorrow's chemistry read. Garrett was a lot more apprehensive around me than he'd been during our walk, and while he was no doubt presumptuous and had an ego, his wish to get to know me felt sincere. It felt like such betrayal to dad, but with all his flaws, I wanted to get to know Garrett, too.

Twenty minutes of small talk later, the front door opened to reveal a chattering Riley, my haunted-looking dad, and my tired-yet-alert boyfriend. They all carried bags.

Garrett ordered his bodyguards to help take the plastic bags full of Riley's stuff from the car to the house before he held out his hand to my dad.

"Garrett," he said. "Our daughter has informed me in no uncertain terms that I am to cuddle you to pieces if I am to be allowed in her life."

"Charlie." Dad blinked, unfazed by Garrett's attempt at humor. He glanced at me before he gave Garrett a nod. "Refresh my memory—have we met before?"

"If we have I have no particular recollection of it."

Still taken aback, dad agreed, and the two men shared a few inconsequential words before Garrett's bodyguards, done with carrying bags, settled behind the front door again.

"I really must get going, I don't want to keep David Fincher waiting," Garrett said (why, why, why would you say that in front of my dad?). He slipped into his shoes, straightened, and turned to me. "Can I get a minute of your time?"

Nodding, I struggled into my own boots. Wordlessly, Edward put his gray jacket on my shoulders and squeezed me before he turned his attention on Riley tugging at his jeans, and I walked Garrett to his fancy Cadillac. It was surreal, insane, incomprehensible that the man was really here, but my heart hurt for my dad and the clear exhaustion in Edward's eyes. I was desperate to make sure my little family inside was okay.

Garrett motioned for his bodyguards to enter the car before he crossed his arms and leaned against the back door. "I do not blame your mother for anything that happened. Legally, the fault is and always will be mine. It is also true what she said—I never wanted children, but, like I said, I don't regret that you exist."

I gave him a nod, now noticing a distinct lack of I'm sorry in his speech as mom had pointed out, but it would've been ridiculous to presume to change the man with my mere existence.

"What's more, expect our time and location for tomorrow's chemistry reading to change. If I were Tanya, I'd pull it into the early, early morning to lower the possibility of either of us being followed by paparazzi and what what. Take an Uber or a taxi if you can."

"Okay."

Garrett gave me a small smile.

"Can I hug you?"

It was a surprisingly tentative request, and my response should've been of course, but really, it was a bit awkward. I didn't know the man much at all.

"Sure."

We hugged. Garrett, like Emmett, was a fit man, but where Emmett was shorter and stockier, Garrett was more proportional, his cut muscles more esthetic than focused on strength.

Garrett kept a hand on my shoulder when we pulled back. "Still up for getting to know me?"

"Only if you never show up at my school unannounced again."

He sighed, but his gaze was surprisingly vulnerable. "Fine, fine. Consider it done."

"Then I'd like that. But I need to get my dad on board. I need to make sure he's okay."

"Of course."

I saved his number on my phone before he stepped into his car.

Watching the taillights of his Cadillac disappear behind other houses, I realized that no paparazzi had, thankfully, discovered where we lived. Not yet, anyway.

Either that, or I was grossly overestimating public's interest in Garrett Kamwanga's secret daughter.

I wanted nothing more than to return inside, cuddle up on the couch in Edward's arms and eat four bowls of phở Edward-style because I was ravenous, but I couldn't. Dad usually refused to move from the living room after he'd showered, so I jogged inside and found my parents hugging in the kitchen, talking quietly as they swayed.

"Dad," I interrupted sheepishly. "No hurry but I'd like to go on a walk with you before the living room armchair wins you over."

I left without looking back. Riley was playing with empty boxes in the living room while Edward sat on the couch, swiping on his phone. He looked up.

"Are you okay with my mom and Riley for a little bit?"

A smile broke through his tired expression. "We've stayed here before, Bella. Go do your thing."

Two minutes later, dad and I stepped into the dark, cloud-covered evening. It was six thirty PM.

"We can't go far," dad said, zipping up his construction jacket. "The social worker from foster care should arrive any moment now."

Jesus, so much was happening I'd forgotten half of it. In a day, Riley had turned into a foster kid, and my parents had been emergency-approved to take him, however Garrett had made that happen.

We agreed to only circle the nearest cul-de-sac and walk no further than Hickory Log Road.

Dad wore a permanent frown and his gaze focused on our neighbors' homes rather than me. I wrapped my elbow around his and squeezed his arm.

"Say the word and I'll refuse to have a relationship with him."

Dad huffed, shaking his head.

"That's not how it should work, sweetie."

"I'm serious."

"I believe you," he replied with a sad smile. "But it is not your responsibility to take care of my feelings. It doesn't matter how I feel."

"Of course it matters!"

Dad stopped walking and stepped in front of me. The small smile he attempted wasn't even close to believable, and his voice was gruff. "Do you want to get to know him?"

I hesitated. I could've lied, obviously, but I didn't want to.

Quietly, I replied, "Yes."

"Then that's all there is to it." He took a shaky breath, eyes searching mine, and his lips disappeared behind his beard. "Don't worry about me, honey. I'm okay. It's okay."

"Dad," I cried, throwing myself in his arms. "I love you, dad."

"Methinks the lady doth protest too much?" dad asked in a broken voice, hugging me back. I shook with desperate, sad laughter.

"You calling yourself a lady would be a lot funnier if it wasn't the day my dad started quoting Shakespeare. That's nuclear level discomfort, dad. If King Lear is next I'm driving you to the hospital."

Dad laughed but didn't let go.

"Many a true word hath been spoken in jest," he replied.

"Was that King Lear? Tell me that wasn't King Lear."

"Why, my actress daughter doesn't recognize Shakespeare?!"

"Shut up. If I'm ever playing Juliet I'm telling everyone he's my favorite playwright and a genius and I quote him in my sleep."

Dad laughed.

"Wait, how do you know Shakespeare, anyway? I thought you found theater painfully dull." I paused. "You had some YouTube obsession some time ago, didn't you?"

"How dare you insult my genius."

I grinned, squeezing him tighter.

"I love you, honey." Dad pressed his cheek against my hair. "But he'll have so much to offer you. He has money and world-famous friends and all the extended family your mother and I could never give you. He can offer you the world."

"No, he can't. He can't give me a childhood with the funniest dad ever even if said dad does have boundary issues and spends more time watching YouTube than could possibly be healthy."

"I bet he's not even scared of spiders," dad said, sniffing sharply. "What an asshole."

My laughter was short-lived.

"I don't want to hurt you, dad. Promise, promise, promise you'll tell me if he starts playing weird power games or makes you feel bad about anything."

We pulled back and looked at a beige Toyota turning to our street.

"Promise, dad."

Dad squeezed me against his side. "Honey, you can't expect—"

"Promise."

Dad paused to stare at my face before, finally, he said, "I promise."

"Thank you," I replied, watching the car pull up in front of our house but not letting dad go. "Also… you don't have to come tomorrow now that he already knows I exist. Mom or Emmett can take me."

"In your dreams, honey. I'm coming."

I did not like his answer given the heart-breaking father-daughter scene Garrett and I had to perform tomorrow, but to fight dad would've given my reluctance too much meaning. Besides, a woman was exiting the Toyota and we needed to go introduce ourselves.

Riley, of course, was having an epic melt-down when we entered the house, but as little credit as Edward was willing to give himself, he slowly managed to calm Riley down as dad small-talked our visitor to death.

Shannon, a large black woman and the social worker assigned to our case, gave Edward and Riley a smile but looked otherwise undisturbed by Riley's crying as she sat down in the living room. Anxious but hopeful, my parents faced her on the couch and squeezed each other's hands as they answered Shannon's questions and went through an extensive check-list that I was sure they should've fulfilled prior to getting Riley. But because this was an emergency placement, my parents made arrangements to meet whatever criteria was pending (or outdated) in the upcoming weeks—although I didn't know how the hell they'd find the time for all of it. They had (yet) to participate in foster parent orientation, pass (new) drug screens, attend IMPACT foster parent training program and so many other little things it was no wonder dad had been flabbergasted when Edward had thought that Riley would've been just given to him.

Fostering was, apparently, serious business, and while Shannon was concerned about our current living arrangement (a two-bedroom for four people), she was encouraged by our near-immediate plans to move and Edward's remaining presence in Riley's life. None of us corrected her assumption that Edward wouldn't be staying with us.

I didn't know if the private foster care agency allowed for concessions because Garrett had donated some stratospheric sum to them, because this was an emergency, or because keeping Edward in Riley's life was more important than a few temporarily unfulfilled requirements, but I didn't question it. Instead, when I saw that Shannon wanted to include Edward in her discussion, I crouched next to Riley and whispered, "Do you want a banana?"

"Yes!" Riley shouted, running to the kitchen, and I excused us before I followed him. Unfortunately, we literally only had one banana for him, and I scavenged our fridge for food before admitting defeat—we'd all taken yesterday's leftovers to school or work—and ordering four family-sized pizzas for the six of us. I had a pile of notifications on my phone but Riley was already digging out his favorite dragon book from his backpack and I wasn't sure I would've had the heart to see the world's reaction right now, anyway.

Flipping through the pages, Riley rested his neck against his palm and his chin on the table, slouching. "Is my mommy going to prison?"

Feeling a bit light-headed, I sat next to him. "I don't know, Riley. She's in custody."

"What did mommy do?"

I didn't know how to explain that she'd attempted to extort millions from my biological father by threatening to expose the fact that he'd had sex with a fifteen-year-old seventeen years ago. How much was one supposed to bend the truth for five-year-olds?

"She tried to steal money."

"But why?"

I almost laughed. "I don't know."

"I'll ask her when we visit," Riley replied, dead serious. Then, he stopped slouching, eyes wide and lip wobbling. "Is that lady here to take me away from you?"

"No, Riley." I hugged him. "She's here to make sure you stay with us until your mom can return."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," I said, tempted to slouch on top of the table just like Riley had. "Do you want me to read to you until our food arrives?"

To save my voice, I read to him in all the silly voices except for Yamamï's. In the distance, I heard my parents praising Edward for getting into MIT, for his chess and for being such a great role-model for Riley, and I couldn't tell when I zoned out but I heard a blood-curdling scream and found Edward's face swimming in front of mine, his palms clutching the back of my neck and voice miles away.

"I think she's coming to," he was saying. Blood rushed in my ears as I began to focus on his face above me. The floor felt cold. With the side of my head pounding, I attempted to sit up.

"I'm so sorry—"

"S'okay, baby. Don't move." Edward unzipped the bag my parents had handed to him and made me eat salted nuts while he slid his palm over my head. "Are you hurt?"

"Just a bump," I replied, scooting to sit up. Edward kept me squished against his side as I drank water and felt everyone's eyes on myself. Mom crouched next to us, dad held Riley, and the social worker Shannon stood next to dad, frowning, clearly concerned.

"Are you sure you're okay, sweetie?" Edward whispered directly in my ear, sending warmth through me. I squeezed his thigh.

"I just wanted to make sure we'd have a sufficiently dramatic ending to this dramatic day."

Dad laughed.

Riley's face was pink and stained with tears.

"I'm sorry I spooked you, Riley. I'm sorry, all. Nothing to see here—go, go. Papers to sign, checklists to go through."

"Are you pregnant?" Riley asked, voice louder than the question had any business being. "Mrs. Brannen had a big fall when she started growing a baby. Are you also growing a baby?"

Edward facepalmed. Dad held his breath.

"No, Riley. I'm not—I cannot be pregnant. We haven't—"

"Of course we haven't," Edward rushed to confirm, not finishing the sentence as he cringed against my hair.

Dad took a long, relieved breath while Riley prattled on, "Mommy said that the man has to put a teeny-tiny baby seed inside the woman's tummy. Did you not do that, Edward?" An embarrassed grin peeked out from behind Edward's facepalming while Riley hugged dad's neck. "Wait, how does the man do that?"

It was Shannon, then, who burst into laughter before my parents joined in.

"How about we solve that mystery some other day," dad told Riley before he gave me and Edward a look brimming with meaning, warning or gratitude or relief.

Edward looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole but he still wouldn't let me get up on my own. Back in the chair I fell from, I suddenly realized how this situation might've looked like for the social worker.

"I have low blood pressure—genetic, probably—and it's been a while since I ate or drank anything. Totally my own fault. I faint super, super rarely. It's been years. My parents always, always feed us lots of food—Edward and my friends, too—please don't take, like, points off or whatever or think you should be concerned or anything. My parents are the best."

"She's right," Edward continued, scooting his chair closer so that he could wrap his arm around my shoulders and force-feed me more salted peanuts. "I still have some leftovers in the freezer from when Bella brought them to my house on Saturday. Bella's parents feed us better than—"

Shannon raised her arm to stop our nervous rant. "You guys have no idea what kind of families we're forced to take kids away from." She smiled. She was wrong, of course, but maybe it wasn't the best idea to include Edward's dad into the conversation. "You've nothing to worry about. It's natural to be nervous on a night like this but emergency placements are always awkward. We'll check up on all y'all but you have a real advantage, knowing the boy. There's a lot of love in this family, and as long as Charlie and Renée renew their trainings, I see no reason to raise any red flags."

My parents shared a look so full of happiness and love they might as well have started glowing, but all they did was kiss. Riley, still in dad's arms, looked bored enough by the kiss to complain about the lack of dragons when the doorbell rang.

"I ordered pizza," I explained, once again finding myself staring at our social worker. "Do you knock points off of unhealthy food? My parents cook almost every day, I promise, usually we only have take-out on Mondays but today was just—"

"You're adorable," Shannon answered, quite nearly rolling her eyes. "But if an evening of pizza knocked potential foster parents off the list I don't think we'd have any foster parents left to choose from."

My parents fussed over my health before I made them join Shannon in the living room. They took two pizzas and left Edward and I in the kitchen with the other two. I began stuffing my face with one of them, Edward-style—because who needs teeth, anyway?—while my lovely boyfriend brought me frozen peas. He lifted my knees on top of his thighs, nuzzled my hair, and held the frozen peas against the bump I'd surely get on the other side of my head. The ache was dull and nothing bled. I'd be fine.

"You scared me shitless," Edward whispered, his low voice a bit hoarse. He squeezed my waist with his other hand. "I'm going to build you a helmet pretending to be a hat so that you never hit your head when you faint."

I pressed a slightly oily kiss against the corner of his mouth. "I can't wait."

"When did you last eat, baby? Or drink water?"

"I'm tempted to say lunch, which was…" I checked my phone. "More than eight hours ago. Feels like eleven years, though."

"I know. It's been a long-ass day." Edward groaned. "We have to build some snacking routine into you." He rubbed my side and kissed my shoulder. His proximity felt so amazing I almost snuggled into his lap. "Have you checked your Insta or TikTok, yet?"

"Not at all. Not even unanswered calls. No time. Will you check them with me, later?"

"Of course." Edward observed my face with his tired, attentive, toe-curling gaze. "Will you tell me how it went, with… Garrett Kamwanga? And… all the rest?"

I choked on my pizza as I grinned. "Just call him Garrett, Edward. It's too weird."

"It is weird."

His eyes were full of questions, no doubt mirroring mine, but I cupped his jaw and pressed another oily kiss against his soft lips. "Later. Later, baby. Now eat before I start to suspect that you've taken up chewing as a hobby."

I practically melted at the affectionate, tender look in his eyes in response to my moniker. He lifted me into his lap and continued to hold a bag of frozen peas against my head as he started to inhale pizza with me.

…

A/N: I've missed you! Lots and lots and lots. Thrilled to be back :) How're you all?