AN: Here we are, another chapter here.

I hope you enjoy! Please don't forget to let me know what you think!

111

Carol was almost certain that she'd come to the wrong place upon stepping inside the trailer. The trailer Andrea had brought her to had been nice—very nice, and certainly much nicer than where she'd lived before—but this place seemed to be somewhere and something else entirely. It smelled wonderful, it was cool despite the heat outside, and it seemed so clean and picturesque that Carol could hardly believe it was meant to be her little home. It had been nice before, but now it really did seem like a home.

To top it all off, there was a candle burning on the coffee table, and Daryl was waiting in the kitchen with boxes of food—the smell of which made Carol's stomach growl viciously.

"Is this the right place?" Carol asked.

"Your new home," Daryl said. "I know you're prob'ly tired after a full day down at that diner."

"I feel like I'm always tired," Carol teased.

"If you just want to eat alone…" Daryl offered.

"No," Carol said quickly. "I mean—no. If you're—not—if you're hungry. Please stay. I could use the company. I mean—I'd like a little company, and that's really a lot of pizza. Unless, of course, you've got something else to do…"

Daryl looked very clearly pleased to be invited to share pizza with her. Carol was happy, too, at the prospect of sharing a meal with him.

"I could go for some pizza. You wanna change or…you got somethin' more comfortable…or…?" Daryl broke off. Carol could tell that he wasn't sure what to say, but she appreciated his effort. She nodded.

"Yeah. I think I'll change," she said. "Please—get comfortable. You can start without me. My house is, well, literally your house."

Daryl laughed.

"It ain't, neither, but I appreciate the sentiment and the offer to get comfortable."

"I mean—it kind of is your house," Carol said. "You're paying for everything…"

"I don't want you to think like that," Daryl said. "It's your house. I don't got any more rights here than what you just give me to get comfortable. OK?"

Carol smiled and nodded.

"OK," she confirmed.

"You want a beer?" He asked.

"I'd love one," Carol said.

Daryl gestured back toward one of the rooms.

"Master's that way," he said. "I put all your stuff in there. Didn't go through none of it. I promise."

Carol smiled and thanked him quietly. In the bedroom, she found what looked like an entirely new room, given that she thought the room had been empty when she'd seen the trailer before. She found her things, changed her clothes, and stepped into the connected bathroom to relieve herself. There was a new toothbrush, toothpaste, and soap in there. She washed her face with a soft yellow washcloth, and she patted it dry with a fluffy yellow towel. In the mirror, her reflection looked exhausted, but she couldn't help but smile at the feelings that simply being here brought to her chest.

In the living room, Daryl had put plates and beer on the table, and he'd put all the pizza boxes on the floor beside the coffee table.

"If you hate it," he said, "we can eat at the table. I just kinda thought floor-camping or something might be more fun."

Carol smiled.

"I love it," she said, joining him on the floor. "Did Andrea do all this to get the trailer ready?"

"No," Daryl said. He looked around the living area. "If Andrea had'a done it, it woulda prob'ly been damn near perfect." He opened the box and offered it in Carol's direction. "You said you loved the meaty one, so I hope you didn't lie."

Carol smiled and accepted two pieces out of the box and transferred them to her plate. Daryl did the same.

"I didn't lie," she assured him. "But—I have to admit that I don't always eat like a lady if I'm allowed to eat all the pizza I want."

He smiled.

"That makes two of us," he teased. "Besides—I prefer you to eat the food. That's what the hell I bought it for."

"You didn't have to buy me food," Carol said.

"Actually—that shit's in our contract," Daryl said. "Says that I do. Part of the agreement." Carol felt her face burn warm, and Daryl made a face that she couldn't entirely interpret. "But—even if it weren't? I woulda wanted to buy you the pizza. Besides, if you ain't noticed, I'm eatin' it, too."

"Did you hire someone?" Carol asked after she'd chewed through a large bite of pizza and let her embarrassment pass over having Daryl feel like he had to buy her food.

"Do what?" Daryl asked.

"Did you hire someone," Carol repeated. "To clean the house."

Daryl looked around again like he was just seeing the trailer for the first time.

"I cleaned it," he said.

"You cleaned it?"

Daryl laughed around his food. He had just taken a bite of pizza that was nearly half a slice, so Carol had to allow him a moment to wash it all down with a large swallow of beer.

"That so fuckin' hard to believe? I live by myself, you know. It ain't like I got somebody comin' in to clean the place every day or nothin'."

Carol shrugged her shoulders.

"My ex never did anything in the house," she said.

"Dishes?"

"Nothing."

"But—come on—like dishes and shit," Daryl said.

"Nothing," Carol insisted. She thanked Daryl when he offered her another piece of pizza as he helped himself to two more out of the box. He placed it directly on her plate, licked his fingers, and then looked at her like he was a little horrified.

"Fuck—I'm sorry. I think I licked my fingers before I touched your pizza."

Carol laughed to herself in response. She shrugged and swallowed down some of the beer. It was cold. It tasted bitter, but it was still good. It was refreshing. She didn't hate the fact that, having not eaten much that day, it gave her an almost immediate buzz before the pizza could catch up with what she'd drank already.

"I'm supposed to have a baby with you," Carol said. "Which means…I mean…coming into contact with a lot more than a little spit to get it."

Carol felt her face grow warm, and she saw Daryl's face run red. He cleared his throat around what he was eating, and Carol covered her own embarrassment with swallowing down a bit more of the beer than she'd intended. Seeing how far she tipped the bottle back, maybe, or simply because he needed something to do with his hands, Daryl got up quickly and went into the kitchen. He brought back another beer for the both of them and removed the lid from the bottles before Carol even had the chance to ask him to help her with the lid. It was the twist off type, she learned quickly, and not the kind that required a bottle opener. She wouldn't have needed his help, after all, but she appreciated it just the same.

She thanked him, in place of saying what she thought—that she wasn't sure why she'd let herself say what she'd said before.

Daryl saved her from her feelings, too, by redirecting the conversation.

"So—your ex didn't do nothin' around the house for real?"

Carol had never felt relieved to talk about Ed before, but at least it moved her away from a conversation that gave her a twisting sort of feeling in her stomach.

"Nothing," she said. "And—I mean he's in prison, now, so he wouldn't have to do anything. When he gets out, though, I can just imagine him living in absolute filth because he doesn't know how to do anything. He's always just expected that someone else would do it for him. He's always had someone else to do it for him."

"Guess that's the difference," Daryl said, swallowing a large bite of pizza and wiping his mouth with a napkin. "Never had nobody to really do all that shit for me. My mama—well—she weren't around all that long in my life. She was drunk a lot, too, and the old man would get all outta damn shape if the house weren't the way he wanted it—even though he was the one fuckin' it up half the damned time. Merle would do what the hell he could, but there was times that he weren't there neither. It was just me tryin' to keep the damned thing in order. Then, when it was me an' Merle, we kinda split things fifty-fifty. But when Andrea come along and Merle moved out—well, it weren't like I was expectin' her to come keep my house clean or some shit like that."

Daryl stuffed another bite of pizza into his mouth, chewed it, and then looked at Carol with something of a deer-in-the-headlights expression.

"I shouldn'ta said all that shit," he said.

"Why not?" Carol asked. "If it's true…"

Daryl shrugged his shoulders again.

"Maybe you don't wanna have a kid with some asshole whose mama…" He stopped short. "Weren't around that long and whose daddy was an asshole. I ain't like him—if it matters. At least, I try not to be like him. And I won't never be like he was with my kid. Our kid. You got my damn word on that. If I do—hell—you got my damn permission to shoot my ass or somethin'. I'll sign somethin'. If you didn't change your mind."

Carol smiled softly at his words. She was surprised to find that his words and his palpable anxiety made her chest ache.

"I don't want you to sign any such thing," Carol said. "And—I know all about assholes, Daryl. I was married to one. A first-class asshole. I had him put in prison, remember? For what it's worth, I can tell you're not an asshole. And—I didn't change my mind."

His shoulders slumped slightly in relief, and Carol allowed herself to start eating the third piece of pizza. She watched his face to see if he might judge her for eating so much, but he didn't look like he even registered that she was on her third piece. In fact, seeing that she was on the last piece that had been served to her, he took a piece from one of the boxes and placed it on her plate. She didn't tell him that she didn't want it. Instead, she figured she would eat as much as she could and simply leave what was left so that he wouldn't feel the need to keep refreshing her serving of food.

"Besides," Carol added when it was clear that Daryl was still trying to recover from his concern over what he'd said, "an asshole wouldn't have cleaned this house like this and ordered pizza for me. My husband never would have done anything like that for me—not in all the years we were married."

Carol realized she might have misstepped. Daryl's face blushed again, and she felt her own cheeks grow warm.

"Wanted you to have somewhere nice," Daryl said. "Somewhere nice to live and—and to grow the baby. For him to grow up. Or her, I mean—whichever one. And what I read said that there's all kinds of things that go into makin' babies, you know…take…and be healthy. You havin' enough to eat and all is important. But it's also important that you feel good. Safe. Relaxed. You got a good home. I just—wanna make sure you've got all that you need. You know—so everything goes good with you, and the baby, and all."

Carol smiled at his words and nodded her head.

"Thank you," she said. "You've—done a really good job."

"So, you feel—good? Safe?"

Carol laughed quietly.

"Yeah," she said. "Actually—I do. I feel safer than I've felt in a long time. And good, too. Really…really good."

Daryl looked pleased with that.

"You want another piece of pizza?" Daryl asked.

"No," Carol said. "No—I don't think I can finish all of this. But—if you…don't have anything pressing to do, I wouldn't mind having another beer or…maybe two? Work on that relaxing some. If you don't want to, though, that's fine. I totally understand if you've got other things to do…or…"

Daryl smiled.

"I don't got shit to do," he said. "And—I bought the twenty-four pack 'cause it's always a better deal. So, I think we could swing a couple more between us. Just—to relax and all, I mean."

"Maybe not quite that many," Carol said with a laugh.

"You can have whatever you want," Daryl said.

Carol smiled.

"I'll keep that in mind," she said.