Again, thank you all so much for the kind remarks. You make me so happy and motivate me to keep going. Chapter 13 is ready for your reading pleasure. I hope you enjoy.

Pick Up on Aisle 10: Chapter 13

"Let's get married," she told him.

""Okay," he agreed "Let's do it. Why don't we go inside now and talk about it?" he asked gently. When she nodded, he picked up her phone, removed the keys from the ignition, and motioned for her to hand him her bag. After dropping her things into it, he reached across her to unbuckle her seatbelt, then rose. He pushed the button to lock the door, then offered his hand to help her out of the car.

When she stood, he pulled her into his arms. He felt her trembling as she leaned into his embrace.

"It's okay," he assured her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "You're here. I've got you."

"Thank you."

He reached to push the car door closed, then guided her up the walk to the front door where Henry waited, a look of concern on his face.

"Where's your coat, Lucy?" he asked.

She looked up at him, then down at herself.

"I guess I was in such a hurry to leave that I just left it at the hospital, she told them. "I didn't even realize it until now."

Frank sat her bag down while she slipped her shoes off, then he led her into the living room while Henry grabbed a folded quilt from the back of his chair. It was one Betty had made many years ago and was getting worn, but he often drew comfort having it draped over his lap on winter evenings. He shook it out and went to wrap it around the shivering woman.

"Did you eat?" Frank asked.

After considering for a moment, she nodded. "Coffee. Protein shake. Couple of bites of a granola bar."

"That's hardly enough to keep you going, much less grow those kids," Henry scolded mildly.

Her eyes filled with tears and she quickly dropped her head.

""I'm sorry," she whispered. "It just got so crazy…"

The older man stepped closer and rested a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm the one who should apologize, Doll. I didn't mean it as a criticism. We're just worried about you."

She looked up with a watery smile. "It's okay. I'm just a little overly emotional right now."

"I'll go fix you something," he told her. "Anything in particular you want?"

She shook her head. "I'm not really hungry," she told him.

"But you need to eat," he reminded her gently.

Finally, she nodded. "I do. Thank you. Whatever is quick and easy for you would be just fine."

"Not a problem," he assured her. His son leaned in and whispered something in his ear and he smiled and nodded as he headed into the kitchen.

Frank settled himself on the sofa, then reached to pull her down to sit on his lap, her back against the end and her feet on the cushion next to him. He watched the emotion play across her face as she struggled against another wave of tears.

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her over to rest her head against his chest.

"You told Danny you wanted someone to talk to when you had a bad day. I want to be that someone. It's okay. I've got you. It's safe to let it out."

As she finally let the tears flow, he pulled the band from her braid, running his fingers through the plait to loosen it, offering quiet support.

When she was cried out, she rested her head against his chest, finding comfort in his heartbeat and the gentle feel of his fingers in her hair. He grabbed a box of tissues off an end table and handed it to her.

"Thank you," she murmured as she wiped her face.

"Want to talk about it?" he asked.

"Eat first, then talk," Henry ordered, coming out of the kitchen. He had a tray in his hands, which he set down on the coffee table. A blanket was thrown over his shoulder and he shook it out before draping it across her lap. "Nice and warm. Fresh from the dryer," he told her.

She looked up at him, eyes wide and he nodded towards Frank.

"You remembered that?" she asked.

"Of course. I try to remember things that are important to people that are important to me. "

She reached up to stroke his cheek. "I'll say it again. You're a good man, Francis Reagan."

"He learned from the best," Henry told her, positioning the tray within her reach.

"Yes, he did," she agreed with a laugh, reaching to accept the mug he offered her.

"Chamomile tea," he explained. "Supposed to help you relax. And you've got a ham and cheese sandwich with lettuce and tomatoes with a pickle spear on the side and some chips."

"Thank you," she replied, taking a sip of the warm beverage.

The trio sat in comfortable silence while Lucy ate. When she finished, she sat back with a sigh.

"Better?" Frank asked.

She nodded. "Definitely. Thank you." She looked between the two men. "Thank you both."

Henry took her dishes into the kitchen, returning with more tea for Lucy and coffee for Frank.

"You want to talk?" the younger man asked the woman resting on his lap.

"I'll go ahead and turn in for the night," Henry told them.

"You don't have to have to do that," Lucy told him. "I don't want you to feel forced out of your own living room."

"I thought you might want some privacy."

She shook her head. "This actually is about a decision that affects you, too, Henry. It's going to involve some major changes in your life, too."

"Does this mean you've decided to marry Francis?"

Looking up at the man holding her, she nodded. "If he'll have me."

Frank leaned down to kiss her.

"Yeah, Pops. We're getting married."

"That's wonderful!"

"Though I am wondering what made up your mind," he continued. "At the hospital earlier, it seemed you were still wavering."

Lucy sighed. "I was. You know that accident that was coming in?"

It was his turn to nod. "Box truck versus sports car, if I remember?"

"Yeah. Box truck moving at a high rate of speed ran a red light and t-boned a sports car." She paused, remembering. "It was bad."

After a sip of her tea, she continued.

"It was a young family. Man driving. Woman in the passenger seat. Three year old boy in the back. The truck hit the passenger side door. Pushed it into a cement divider. Rescue had to cut them out."

She was trembling and Frank took the cup from her and set it on the table.

"The man was pretty banged up but was at least semi-conscious. Little boy was in a car seat that offered more protection, but he still had some pretty severe injuries. The woman was in pretty bad shape."

Her voice was starting to shake as she continued.

"She was pregnant, Francis. About 30 weeks."

Henry let out a sigh.

"She was losing blood almost faster than we could infuse. Stats were dropping. We were doing everything we could to stabilize her, but it just wasn't working."

Frank tightened his hold on her.

"The baby was in distress. His vitals were erratic as well. We did an emergency c-section and he was rushed to the NICU while we kept trying to stabilize the mother."

She looked down at her hands, her mind still seeing them covered in blood. .

"It wasn't good enough. I wasn't good enough and we lost her."

"It wasn't your fault," Frank assured her. "Sometimes, we do our best, we do all the right things, but it just doesn't work out the way we think it should."

"I went to check on the man. He was stable and the pediatrician was there talking to him about what was going on with the boys, and an older couple came in. They were yelling for their daughter."

"The woman's parents," Henry guessed.

Lucy glanced at him and nodded. "As it turns out, he wasn't the father of the three year old and they weren't married, and her parents don't like him, so they claimed that he had no rights to make any decisions about the care any of them received, no right to see them, and no right to even be given any information on their conditions."

"Oh, no."

"He claimed that she had no relationship with her parents anymore and wouldn't want them involved and there was no medical power of attorney on file, so the hospital brought in a DCFS caseworker to assume guardianship of the children until things could get sorted out."

She wiped at the tears streaming down her face.

"There are two little boys who are hurting and scared and alone who have a social worker making decisions for them. This man has just lost the woman he loved and he can't see his children. He'll have to get a paternity test to prove his relationship to the baby before he's allowed to even see him and who knows what will happen with the other child."

"That's horrible," Henry whispered.

"It is," Lucy agreed. She twisted around to face Frank. "I don't want that to happen to us. To our kids. I don't have parents or anyone else who is likely to challenge your rights, but I want to make it as simple as possible for you to be able to make decisions for us, to be able to be with our children, especially if something happens to me. I don't want social services anywhere near my children. My caseworker could not have cared less about me and I don't want that for them. I want them to feel safe and loved, Francis."

Her voice was taking on a panicked edge and Frank hastened to reassure her.

"That won't happen."

"You promise? You'll protect them? Look out for them?"

"Of course I will." He slid his hand under the blanket on her lap and rested it protectively on her stomach. "You can depend on me."

Still sniffling , she rested her hands on his.

"I know there are other options. I know I could get legal paperwork naming you the father and give you medical power or attorney and all that, but I don't want you to have to worry about paperwork if our babies need you."

"I understand. This is a better way. Simpler."

"Exactly," she agreed, sagging against him, exhausted.

Frank smiled, feeling her relaxing against him, and straightened the blanket wrapped around her.

Henry stood and gathered the empty cups and returned them to the kitchen. When he returned, he stood in the doorway for several moments, watching his son and future daughter in law.

As he indicated to Frank that he was going to head upstairs, Lucy sat up again and shook herself.

"I guess I should probably head home," she told the two men.

"No," Frank told her "You'll be staying here,"

She looked at him, her face unreadable.

"I will? We haven't even been engaged for an hour and you're already trying to tell me what to do?"

"Let me rephrase," he backtracked.

"Good idea," Henry told him with a laugh as he headed up the stairs.

"Why don't you stay here, instead? You're exhausted and upset and probably shouldn't be driving. You could call a cab or a rideshare or I could get my detail and take you home, but then you'd be home alone and I don't want you to be alone tonight. Do you want that?" he asked, leaning down to look at her.

Sighing, she shook her head. "No, I don't. I would love to stay, if you're sure you don't mind."

"Not at all. I prefer that you do," he told her, pressing a kiss to her temple.

"Thank you," she replied, returning his kiss before taking the blanket off her lap and standing up. When he stood as well, she nodded towards the couch.

"I suppose I can just sleep here."

"No, you can't," Frank started before shaking his head. "I mean, you could, if that's what you really want, but you don't have to. There are other, more comfortable options. We have several empty bedrooms upstairs and I think one of them has the bed made up."

"I don't want to be any trouble," she told him.

"Or…you can join me in my room. See what you think of it. Of the mattress. Get some ideas on redecorating."

"You don't think you might feel crowded?"

He laughed. "Lucy, I have a king sized bed. We don't even have to touch, if we don't want to." He stepped close again and stroked her cheek. "Though, I must admit, I really like the idea of falling asleep with you in my arms again."

Her skin tingled at his gentle touch,

"I'd like that," she told him.

Turning out the lights, he led her towards the stairway, detouring to check that the alarm was armed. While he was doing that, she reached into her purse and pulled out her phone.

"In case the hospital needs me," she explained.

"They'd better not," he replied as he wrapped an arm around her waist and guided her up the stairs. Stopping at the linen closet, he grabbed a washcloth, towel and a new toothbrush before leading her into the bedroom.

Looking around, she smiled.

"This is nice. Very relaxing."

He shrugged. "I like it, but I'm open to changes if you want."

"Maybe, but not tonight," she laughed.

In the bathroom, she washed her face and brushed her teeth, then returned to the bedroom where he waited.

"I'm not sure what you normally wear to bed," he told her, "but I can offer a t-shirt or a sweatshirt, if you want."

"A t-shirt would work. That's actually what I usually sleep in."

He opened a dresser drawer. "NYPD shirt okay?"

"Perfect," she replied, holding out her hand. "I may have to steal a couple from you. The ones I have are starting to get a little ragged after all this time."

He took his turn in the bathroom, allowing her privacy to change her clothes. When he returned to the bedroom, he found her sitting on the side of the bed, eyes closed as she ran her fingers through her hair.

"How are you doing?" he asked.

When she looked up at him, he saw a glimmer of unshed tears in her eyes.

"I'm just really tired," she told him.

"I know you are. Let's get you into bed."

He pulled her to her feet and wrapped his arms around her. Sighing, she relaxed in his embrace, resting her head against his chest. After several seconds, he pulled away, reaching over to pull the covers down. He directed her into the bed, then pulled the blankets over her before moving to the other side.

"There's a nightlight on in the bathroom so you won't have a problem if you need to go in the middle of the night," he told her as he turned off his lamp and slipped into bed, turning to face her. Reaching across the bed, he tucked a lock of hair back behind her ear. "Okay?" he asked.

After a moment, she nodded.

"You sure?" he asked, trying to figure out the pause.

She smiled. "I'm good. Thank you."

He propped his head up on his arm. "I want to be your home, Lucy. Your safe place. I want you to feel comfortable, to tell me what you need. What you want."

Chewing her lip a moment, she considered.

"You said earlier that the bed was big enough that we wouldn't even have to touch if we didn't want to."

He sighed, moving away slightly. "I did and it is."

She reached out hesitantly to rest her hand on his.

"But you also said that you'd like to fall asleep with me in your arms."

Frank nodded.

"You meant that?"

"I did."

"Because I'd really like that, too," she told him softly.

He grinned widely, lifting his arm to invite her closer. She scooted across the space between them, turning to press her back against his chest.

"Is this okay?" she asked.

"Perfect fit," he replied, curling himself around her.

Sighing contentedly, she laid her hand over the one he had draped across her waist, twining her fingers in his.

"You make a perfect big spoon," she told him with a laugh.

He kissed the top of her head.

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" he asked.

She turned her head to look at him.

"What wasn't?"

"Asking for what you want?"

"A little," she admitted. "It's not something I'm accustomed to."

"I know."

"What about you?"

"What about me?" he responded, puzzled.

"You're a provider. A giver. How hard is it for you to ask for what you want? How often does that happen?"

He sighed. "Not often," he finally admitted.

"Because I want to be that for you, too, Francis. I know you have a lot of people in your life that love you and would do anything for you, but I have the impression that you're so used to giving and doing for others that you don't feel comfortable asking for what you want. Or even need, sometimes."

"Maybe."

"I'm going to be your wife. Your help meet. Your partner. I know this marriage is going to be different than our previous ones. But I still want to be there for you. To be YOUR safe place. Someone that you can talk to. Vent to. That you can trust not to judge. Be your friend, at least."

He studied her for a few moments.

"Did you ever consider going into police work?"

Confused by the question, she shook her head.

"Honestly, after the things my father did. it was several years into counseling before I could see a uniformed officer or a police car without almost having a panic attack," she confessed.

He squeezed her hand. "I'm sorry. I never even thought about it, but I can see where that might color your perception of cops."

"Clearly, I got past it," she said, pulling at the NYPD t-shirt she was wearing. "But it still wasn't a line of work I ever considered."

"It's just that you seem to be really good at figuring out people. At noticing things that they sometimes probably don't even realize themselves."

She shrugged. "I suppose it's not that different from diagnosing and treating patients. You observe and listen."

"I suppose so."

"I'll make you a deal," she told him. "I'll work on being more open with you if you will promise to do the same for me."

He held her gaze, then nodded, leaning down to kiss her.

"Deal."

She returned his kiss, then yawned, making him laugh.

"Sweet dreams," he told her, laying his head on his pillow and pulling her back against his chest.

"See you in the morning," she mumbled.

"See you in the morning."

And that wraps up another chapter. It's a little bit short, but it seemed like a good spot to wrap up this section. I'm already hard at work on the next part and, as always, would love to know what you thought. Please and thank you.