FQWL: Moving forward

[moonshadows]

Robert and I get a few odd looks as we file past other parents and take a pair of seats roughly across from where Amanda's likely to be perched in the bleachers once the seniors file out. Robert's got a reassuring amount of scruff back, but I think it's going to be another day or two before he's back to being scruffy. We chat about tomorrow's party preparations while waiting, and eventually the teachers file in to take their seats in the front row. I see Hugo, he sees me, we give each other little waves. Then the band starts playing, and the seniors file out. I guessed almost right, and Amanda's just a little to the side of where I thought she'd be. She gives me an excited, nervous pair of finger guns as she sits down.

Naturally, there's what feels like endless speeches to sit through. Then, finally, the seniors stand to file past and get their diplomas..or at least, the official cases for their diplomas. I wonder if Amanda's regretting having my surname instead of her mother's, but Ana was adamant about taking my name when we got married, so that's the one on the birth certificate. I snap a picture as my little girl gets her diploma case, and she beams as she follows her classmates and sits back down. Then there's even more speeches, and finally the band starts up again and the students file back off the bleachers and into the cafeteria where they'll be handing in their rented gowns in exchange for their actual diplomas.

Knowing that it's going to be a madhouse in there, Robert and I stay on the field and chat with Hugo, waiting for Amanda to finish her exchange and come to us. After several minutes she does, rocketing out of the throng with her diploma in one hand and her cap in the other to slam straight into me for the most enthusiastic hug I've ever gotten in my life. Robert and Hugo, having wisely stepped out of the way, give me enough room to spread my arms and brace for impact.

"I'm so proud of you, sweetie!"

"I did it, Dad, I did it!"

The hug lasts a minute or two, both of us just slightly incoherent in our excited babble, before she pulls back.

"Now what?"

It's a few hours until dinner, and another hour or two after that for the party.

"Ice cream," Robert announces.

It's a good idea, so we make our good-byes to Hugo and pile into the car. Robert knows about an actual ice cream parlor, and we gorge ourselves on loaded sundaes before heading back to watch a movie and digest until it's time to make the pizza. Dinner is warm, simmering with pride, and then Amanda throws on different clothes and dashes outside to meet her ride to the graduation party.

"So..." Robert says as we watch her climb into the car. "She made up with the bitchy friends?"

"Told them they had a choice," I confirm. "They chose to finish the year as friends instead of leaving for college with their friendship in ruins."

He snorts. "Good choice. You did a good job raising her, Jack."

"Val coming to the party?"

"Yeah."

"Nervous?"

He lets out a humorless laugh. "Can I use your backyard for a few minutes before I answer that?"

I slide an arm around his waist and lean my head against his shoulder. "Can I join you?"

Robert turns and hugs me. "Of course. Even if it weren't your yard."

Chuckling, we make our way out into the back yard to sit on the bench under the cherry tree.

===

Friday is a frantic rush of preparing things and then hiding them while Amanda's out with her friends. Friday night is a comfortable, lazy movie night that happens to go a little late and results in Robert sleeping on the couch. Saturday morning, we wake up to donuts and donut-shop coffee. It's a lazy morning. I casually suggest doing burgers on the grill for lunch, something Amanda is all for, but alas...we have no burger buns.

I send Amanda to the store for buns.

The instant she's gone, texts start flying. Brian pushes his heated grill down the street and into the backyard. Damien comes over with the ice cream cake and the icebox shortcake. Mat hustles music equipment from his garage to my yard. Craig brings the tables, Joseph brings the burners, Hugo brings the pans of mac 'n cheese. Everyone scrambles to get everything out of hiding - the tray of fruit in Robert's fridge, the cold drinks, the cooler full of ice, bowls of chips and plates of cookies - and set up before Amanda comes back.

Faintly, I can hear the car pull up. Through the open back door, I can hear the front door open.

"Dad? I got the buns!"

"I'm in the back yard," I yell, leaning into the kitchen. "Just bring them out here!"

Everyone clusters around the back door, just barely out of sight, and I let it close behind me as I join them. The instant it opens, we all lunge into view and shout SURPRISE!!

"Wh- Dad?" Amanda looks at me, startled and a little betrayed.

"You told me not to make a big deal," I say, stepping forward, "but you seem to have forgotten that my entire mission in life is to make a big deal out of your accomplishments, so consider this your graduation party." I take another step forward and hug my shell-shocked daughter. "Surprise, sweetie!"

"Dad!" she hisses into my shoulder. "Everyone's here!"

"Well, yeah. Everyone wanted to come and support you," I tell her quietly before stepping away.

Amanda takes a look around, sizing up the food and surveying the party-scape. "Is that...artisanal mac 'n cheese?"

"And an ice cream cake," Hugo announces. "The good kind, with the crunchies in the middle."

"Your father's icebox shortcake," Damien adds.

"Burgers already on the grill," Brian pipes up proudly. "Hot dogs, too."

She looks around at everyone. "I...don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything, sweetie." I give her a kiss on the head. "Just enjoy yourself."

Amanda hesitates a few seconds, then darts off to be the first one into...probably most of the food, to be honest. Everyone else starts milling around, following her lead while Brian goes to check on the burgers. I stand there, beaming, watching my little victory before a sound behind me makes me turn, and holy shit there's an angry-looking woman right behind me. I'm not sure which aspect of her is most intimidating: the fishnets and pointy-heeled leather boots, the dramatic black overcoat, the long, black nails, the jewelry made entirely of big, golden spikes, or the way the entire ensemble combines with her expression to scream executive producer whose time you are wasting.

Is there some Homeowner's Association no one told me about that I forgot to join and I'm breaking the rules of?

"Hi," I say, trying not to sound nervous. "I don't think we've met...?"

Her expression shifts to something that makes me think she sees a stain on her pristine white carpet, and I'm the stain.

"Oh, we've met," she says in a low, smoky voice dripping with derision. "Years ago. And I'm here for my revenge."

I'm halfway through a review of my life to see who I might have pissed off when I remember that Val is supposed to be coming to the party.

"You must be Robert's daughter." I give her a warm smile. "I'm Jack, Amanda's father. Nice to meet you."

"A pleasure," she says politely.

I gesture her to the backyard proper. "I'm glad you could make it."

"Yeah, well, my old man promised there would be free food, so that's kinda hard to pass up." She flashes me a smile. "Kidding. I've gotten pretty fond of Amanda in the last several weeks, and I wanted to meet her and her father face to face."

"Well, whatever the reason, I'm glad you're here."

Val gives me a serious, contemplative look. "I know we just met, but can I get real with you for a sec?"

My eyebrows arch in surprise. Of course."

"My old man's a real closed book, you know? Me and him, we got a long way to go. You don't erase decades of neglect in a few weeks, but..." She drifts off, scanning the crowd. Following her gaze, I think she's looking at Robert, who's got his arm over Amanda's shoulder and seems to be giving her tag-team advice with Mary. "He swallowed his pride and reached out to me. And he's been...better. A lot better. He wouldn't have done that on his own, and Amanda says you've adopted him, so whatever you said or did? Thank you. I'd given up on ever having a father I could be in the same room with and not want to punch. He's still got a long way to go before I can forgive him, but now I have hope that someday, I'll actually want to be around him."

"My dad was worse," I say quietly, not looking at her. "He got himself killed just before I turned eighteen. When Robert found out...that was the turning point. He didn't want to be anything like my father. I'm glad things are getting better between you. Robert means a lot to me."

Val smiles at me, a small, dry thing. "We don't talk a lot, but you mean a lot to him, too. I'm...glad he has a friend who'll put up with his shit and call his bull. Keep an eye on him for me, okay? Or else," she adds in a growl.

"Or else what?"

"That's all I've got," she confesses. "Just or else."

As we laugh, Amanda runs up and Val hugs her.

"Hey, kiddo, heard you made it to the big leagues!"

Amanda blushes slightly. "Well, I don't know about that. Maybe the middle leagues? Also wow, you look so much cooler than I pictured you!"

Val's staring pointedly at...Robert, who stops approaching and veers off to pile fruit on a plate. "Hey, Manda, my old man said he shaved. Was he pulling my leg?"

"Nope." Amanda grins. "Didn't see him the day of, but the morning after his stubble was way shorter and Dad kept shooting him weird looks." She directs the grin at me. "I think Dad likes him scruffy."

My blush speaks for itself, and Val chuckles.

"Alright. I'll let that slide."

"And I," I tell them, "am going to steal that plate of fruit and actually enjoy my little surprise party and let you two chat."

"Catch ya around, Pops," Amanda chirps.

Robert holds out the plate of fruit as I approach. It's all my favorites.

"Wanted to make sure you got some," he says softly as I accept it.

"Thanks, Rob." I smile at him, and some of his tension evaporates.

We turn away from our daughters and go over to the table with burger fixings, where Brian's setting down a plate of hot hamburger patties. Robert assembles one for me at my direction, takes a bite out of his, and puts them both on the same plate. We go over to another table to sit and eat.

"I can hear the bottle calling," he mutters once we're seated. "All I can think of is how much of a fuckup I am. That I shouldn't even try, I should just drown myself in booze."

"It's not that bad," I tell him soothingly. "Val was telling me that you've gotten a lot better, and she asked me to keep an eye on you."

Robert gives me a lopsided grin. "Did she threaten physical violence?"

"Uh...I'm not sure. She said or else, but she also said she didn't have a threat past or else."

He chuckles. "That's my girl. Hey, I'm gonna take my burger into the corner of the yard and smoke a clove, if that's okay."

"Of course," I tell him, smiling.

As soon as he stands up, Brian takes his seat with a burger of his own.

"Good party," he says heartily. "Thanks for letting me help plan it!"

"Thanks for helping plan it, and for grilling," I counter.

He laughs. "I've wanted the chance ever since Joseph started his cul-de-sac cookouts. How's the burger?"

"Even better than Joseph's," I tell him. "I don't know what your secret is, but as long as you keep grilling like this, I don't care."

That makes him laugh even harder, and he toasts me with a can of soda.

I circulate for a while, nibbling and chatting. Calling Craig to mediate when I see one of his girls going up to the ice cream cake for a third time, and I realize I'm not sure who got the first two pieces. Joseph tells me it looks like I've settled into the neighborhood nicely. I cheerfully tell him I couldn't ask for a better cul-de-sac and make neutral noises when he mentions seeing me at more church events.

Note to self: set up fishing weekend with Brian as soon as possible.

"And maybe if you aren't doing anything later we could...hang out sometime," he finishes, stepping into my personal space.

I chuckle. "I'll have to see. I promised Craig I'd try to help out with his business. Excuse me," I say, sidling off to the mac 'n cheese, where Hugo's standing. "Hey, man, give me some of that!" I hold out my burger plate and Hugo scoops some onto it. 

"The perfect cheddar-to-mac ratio," he says proudly.

"It smells amazing." I grab a fork and take a bite. "Mmmm."

Hugo grins. "Coming from a country boy, that's high praise," he teases.

I swallow. "We didn't have fancy cheeses in the country. So, I hear you and Ernest got a dog?"

"Yeah, a furry mountain named Duchess Cordelia. She broke out of the animal shelter and into our home, can you believe that? But taking care of her has given Ernest some desperately-needed focus for his energy, and we're...doing better."

"I'm so glad to hear that!"

Mat wanders up for mac 'n cheese. "Glad to hear what?"

"We have a dog," Hugo says."

"Oh..." Mat looks uncomfortable. "I thought you were talking about the music and was going to tell you all about the band."

I gesture at his plate. "Fill 'er up and tell me about the band."

Mat grins and we make our way to a table where he tells me about the bands and the songs he picked to play. After a few minutes, Damien joins us with a bowl of icebox shortcake. The music discussion goes in a different direction entirely, Mat and Damien comparing bands with Victorian tastes, and I excuse myself to grab some dessert before it melts. As I'm cutting myself a piece of ice cream cake and loading the rest of the plate with strawberries and whipped cream, I can see Robert and Val standing in the corner, but they don't seem to be talking. They're not even looking at each other, they're standing back to back and...texting?

Oh well. It's real-time communication, at least.

"Your girl's pretty sharp," Mary says from apparently having snuck up behind me.

"Ah...thank you?"

She snorts. "Chill out, cowboy. No claws today. Regardless of how I feel about rugrats, raising one into an intelligent, grounded young woman is an accomplishment and I respect that you managed to do it. Amanda's lucky to have you for a father."

Aaand I'm blushing. "Thanks, Mary. You know, if you ever need to talk..."

"I know where you live," she says dryly. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go trade stories with her." She points at Val with her chin.

The party continues, pretty average for a party. When it starts to get towards dusk, people gather their dishes and fill plates with leftovers and wander out with hugs and more congratulations for Amanda. Mat makes a few trips, packing up his music things, and Craig promises he'll be back for the tables tomorrow. Eventually, the only guests left are Robert and Val, and she informs me she's abducting my daughter for the rest of the evening. I say okay, Amanda and I exchange 'I love you', and then I wander over to join Robert on the bench under the cherry tree.

"Good party," he says quietly, sliding an arm around my waist.

I lean against him, head on his shoulder. "Thanks. I'm exhausted, though."

He nuzzles my hair briefly. "Hey, no blood was spilled. That's always a plus." He pauses while I laugh softly. "Got a chance to talk to Val. Well, over text, but still."

"I saw. How'd it go?"

"She still won't talk to me directly, but she was impressed that I was sober for the whole afternoon. Verifying Amanda's reports. And she said she'd give me a pass on shaving since I was doing it for you. Thinks it's cute. We're gonna keep trading voicemails. It's...progress."

I take his free hand and squeeze gently. "I'm proud of you, Rob."

"Don't be too proud of me yet," he says darkly. "I can't promise that I won't hit the bottle hard once I get home. Facing Val and Joseph sober was not easy and I'm out of cloves."

"Is there anything I could do that would help you de-stress?"

For a moment, he freezes. "Not that wouldn't make me feel worse in the morning."

"Okay." I squeeze his hand again. "Want me to keep you company? Or to watch a movie on my couch and spend the night?"

His arm tightens around me and he shudders. "I want to do something self-destructive to prove that I am as bad as I think I am, that everyone telling me I'm not a piece of trash is wrong, but I know it will only make me feel worse in the morning. I don't know what to do, Jack. I'm sorry I'm such a fuckup."

"You know what I do when I feel like a fuckup?" I ask softly. "I clean. And I bake."

"You're not a fuckup. You're the handsome prince. I'm the villain."

"Which one?"

Robert straightens and looks at me. "What?"

I sit up to look back at him. "Which Disney Villain are you?"

He thinks about it. Then he thinks about it some more. Helpfully, I suggest some. He shoots them down for various reasons - "I would never wear that", "I wouldn't hurt a child", "I'm not that big of a dick", and so forth. It turns into a discussion of Disney villains, what they've done, what they haven't done, and what Robert's done. We move inside once the sun sets, settling on the couch after a stopover in the kitchen while I make two mugs of hot cocoa.

"I guess I'm more of an anti-hero," he says finally, sipping at his mug and licking whipped cream off his upper lip. "I'm not actively malicious, I'm just...a self-centered ass. But not a huge one, you know?"

"So you're Kuzco?" I grin at him. "Yay, I'm a llama again! ...wait." It starts brightly and ends in a deadpan.

Robert giggles. "Does that make you Pacha?"

"Well, I do have a way with kids..."

"...and you did come from a tiny little nowhere town."

"I also know my way around the wilderness."

"And you're too damn forgiving. You know what? We need to watch that. There were some great lines in that movie."

Robert looks a lot better, and I smile at him. "You know Kuzco was the prince in that movie, right?"

Slowly, Robert blushes.

===

The rest of June proceeds pretty much the way it started, only with Amanda taking summer courses and really giving them her best effort. Screwing around with high school assignments is one thing, but she's painfully aware of how much each course would cost at Horne and determined to do her part by acing them for much cheaper at the community college and then transferring the credits.

Craig hooks me up with a business laptop and teaches me some of the things that are pretty simple, just time-consuming and need a human eye. The twins spend every other week with their mother now that it's summer, which gives him time to do things for himself. Fishing weekends with him, Brian, and Robert while Amanda watches Daisy start happening pretty regularly, just four men and a baby out in nature fishing and cooking on a campfire.

June slides into July with only the neighborhood cookout to make a ripple. Robert doesn't attend - spending the week out of town with Val, he says, but he texts me later to tell me he's in a hotel across town. I visit him a few times, just spending quiet time together in the room or in a nearby park where he drinks little bottles of liquor and smokes cloves. Weirdly, despite the summer heat, Joseph wore that blue sweater over his shoulders for most of the week and then stopped. I mention it to Robert, but he doesn't say anything.

Sunday nights are still spent at Jim and Kim's with Mary. Robert tells me that it's more about supporting Mary than it is about him getting drunk, and slowly between the two of them it comes out that Joseph is in denial about being gay but Mary, despite all her acting out and every reason not to, still loves him. The acting out, she confesses while Robert's in the bathroom, is to make Joseph so angry that he can keep it up and perform his marital duties. She's also been telling him that Robert and I have an incredibly active sex life because my predatory sense was right, Joseph is interested in me. Another week, she confesses drunkenly that she's hard on me because I'm everything she thought her husband was, and that aspect of her now makes sense. I still participate in church youth activities and events that allow me to bake - my mini pies are a huge hit - but I make sure to tell Joseph all about the things I do with Rob. When he's slept over, how much I love having someone else to cook breakfast for, how cozy it is when he joins us for dinner, the long walks together, everything that I make sound saccharine and innocent but which could be hiding sexual exploits.

Robert cautiously joins my team for trivia night, making it us and Hugo against Brian, Mat, and Daisy, and Robert's actually good at some categories although he says he's just there for the cheese and wine. He goes the whole way with me and Craig when he jogs with us in the mornings, although he only does that two or three times a week. We have tea with Damien and Mary to discuss the walking dog-adoption advertisement idea, and they love it. Damien was extremely nervous about confessing that he wasn't a Victorian Goth 100% of the time, but Robert pointed out that there's much worse things to be half the time than "normal and boring" and I added that no flower blooms all the time, and that seemed to put things in perspective for him.

We start walking dogs in the afternoon, when people are coming home from work, with pre-printed doggie profiles and adoption forms in our pockets. Mary tells us that adoptions are definitely up, and the number of people who come in with adoption forms we've handed them is heartwarming. She also mentions that a couple who "smell like money" have been asking about a Boston terrier named Betsy, and were asking about her eyes and discussing surgeons. For some reason, this sets Robert on edge but all he says is if Mary thinks Betsy would be happy, then he gives his blessing. He lights a clove as soon as we leave, and informs me that he needs to get drunk tonight. I give him a brief hug, and he chain-smokes cloves all the way back to my house. After dinner, we go over to his house and I watch, feeling helpless, as he hits a bottle hard and fast. Thankfully, he puts it aside and lets me get him water, but then he slumps against me and starts to cry.

Betsy, it turns out, has juvenile cataracts that make her nearly unadoptable because she needs either constant supervision or surgery. Robert's fostered her in the past, for a few days or a week, to give her a new lease at the shelter. She's the sweetest dog, he informs me tearfully, but he can't keep her because he's afraid he'll accidentally let her get into something she shouldn't while he's...not at his best. I do what I can to comfort him, but it's a valid concern and we both know it. He doesn't want to sleep on my couch that night. He wants to be alone and suffer, but he apologizes to me before he starts to hit the bottle again because he knows I'm going to worry. I put him to bed after another cup of water and sit there, stroking his hair, until he's fallen asleep. The next morning, he's passed out on my couch when I get up to jog with Craig. Amanda nearly tears up when I told her why he was drunk last night, and then disappears into her room. Probably to text Val ad tell her what a softie her old man is sometimes.

===

On a lazy late-July afternoon, while we're folding a load of clean towels, Robert asks if we can make cookies when we're done. Partially to surprise Amanda when she comes home from class, but mostly because he wants cookies. I'm a sap who thinks that's adorable, so I gather the stack of folded towels and tell him to check the pantry for chocolate chips while I put them away.

I'm hanging fresh towels in the bathroom when Robert storms in, furious, with a bottle in his hand. It's...wow, how many weeks ago did I buy that whiskey and then forget about it? Sometime in May?

"What the fuck is this doing here?" he demands, brandishing the bottle at me. "Don't you dare tell me you started drinking, Jack!"

"Of course not," I protest.

"Then why-"

Well, I thought that would have been obvious. "I got it for you."

That stops him dead. His eyes widen. "You..."

"I felt bad not having anything stronger than juice to offer you," I explain sheepishly. But, of course, he started bringing his own and then it was a moot point.

"No..." he looks torn between horror and fury. "No. NO! Damn it, Jack, NO! You're not..." Instead of telling me what I'm not, he opens the bottle and starts pouring it into the toilet.

"Robert-"

"God DAMN it, Jack, NO!" Blackly furious, he hurls the bottle past the shower curtain and into the tub, where it shatters. "I don't want to see this shit in your house again," he snarls.

"Robert..." I trail off, unsure what exactly I did wrong but terrified anyway, the words drying up in my throat.

"Don't. Just...don't. Leave me alone. I don't want to even look at you right now."

And before I can properly register what just happened, he's stormed out.

Numb, I flush the toilet and clean broken glass out of the tub before the world goes grey.

Some time later, a text from Amanda startles me back into the world. She's picking up burritos on the way home from class and wants to know what I want in mine. I try to make my thoughts move but all I can think of is how angry Robert looked and the fear that somehow, I fucked everything up.

I'm sitting on the couch eating a burrito, although I can't taste a thing. The burrito is my whole world. I sit on the couch and watch my hands when it's gone.

"I'm gonna do my homework, Dad." Amanda's voice. "You should take a nap."

A nap. Not-thinking. That sounds good. I kick my shoes off and stretch out in the recliner.

=

It's eleven at night when I get a text from Robert, followed quickly by two more texts, and sit up frantically to check them.

JACK

JACK HELP

I DON'T WANT TO BE ALONE

As I'm typing out a response asking where he is, another one comes in.

I'M SORRY

I add a second question mark to my text and hit send, holding my breath. Each moment feels like an eternity until the reply pops up.

BEDROOM

I'm out of the house in seconds, without bothering to either put on shoes or lock the door, sprinting down the sidewalk and worried about what I'm going to find. The door is unlocked, and I shuffle carefully through the darkened house, not wanting to fall on my face coming to Robert's rescue because I tripped on dirty clothes or empty bottles. It's hard to see him, even with my eyes adjusted to the darkness, because he's not where I expected him to be. He's on the floor, wedged between the bedside table and the wall by the closet, holding something to his chest and crying.

Oh my god, he's crying.

I have to shove things out of the way and sit partially in the closet to get on the floor next to him, but I do and I pull him into a hug, my cheek on the top of his head. It's a few minutes before his breathing evens out.

"You okay?" I ask softly, not sure if he's even still awake. He's pretty drunk.

"No," he whispers back. "I'm a mess. A failure. My daughter won't talk to me. My wife..."

He shifts, showing me the picture he's had clutched to his chest. A beautiful dark-skinned woman beams up at us, holding a robin's egg blue sweater up to her chest while a girl who looks a lot like Amanda smiles at her in delight. It must be Christmas, to judge by the decorations in the background and the torn wrapping paper on the box in the woman's lap.

"We moved here for a fresh start. Get away from...things. From my drinking. I was supposed to clean up my act. I never did. I never became the man she deserved." He starts crying again. "Don't let me go back to that, Jack. Please."

Things come together. "You want to stop drinking entirely."

Robert nods against my chest. I hug him tighter. No wonder he was so upset at what I'm sure looked like me enabling his drinking.

"Whatever you need, I'm here for you. You know that."

He nods again.

"Do you want help getting all the liquor out of your house?"

"No need. Drank it all."

Well, that's one way of dealing with it. I stroke his hair a little. "Okay. Let's get some water into you, then."

"Yeah." Robert sighs, but he doesn't move. "You're a good man, Jack. Good friend. Good father. Bet you were a better husband than me."

I think of Mary for a moment, and Joseph trying to be perceived as the best while ignoring reality. "It's not about better, Rob," I murmur. "It's about doing the best you can for the ones you love."

"My best is still crap," he mutters.

Something sour climbs my throat, and I swallow it back down. "You want to stop drinking," I tell him in a quiet voice. "That's better than my dad ever did."

"Your dad was a dick."

It still hurts to think of him in any negative way after all his conditioning, but...it's the truth. "Yeah. He was."

"You deserved better."

My throat closes up; I can't answer that.

"Help me up?"

Awkwardly, we get to our feet and I settle Robert on his couch with a plastic tumbler of water, waiting until he's drunk at least half of it before asking, "Are you going to be okay tonight?"

He gives me a haunted look. "I don't know."

That's a no. "Your couch, or mine?"

"Yours." Robert shudders.

I suspected as much. Robert finishes the water at my urging and leans on me as we make our way down the sidewalk and into my living room. I get him settled on the couch, pillow and blankets from the linen closet, big mixing bowl on the floor, aspirin and more water in reach. He gives me a grateful, if unfocused, look and then slips into unconsciousness. Amanda's watching from the hall when I stand up. I gesture her further back and join her.

"Sorry, sweetie, didn't mean to wake you up."

She gives Robert a worried look. "Is Knife Dad okay?"

I hug her; she hugs back a little desperately.

"You know how they say the first step is admitting you have a problem?"

She nods. "Mm-hmm?"

"The second step is asking for help. Robert's going cold turkey, and we're going to help him. Mostly me, because you still have classes."

"And by help him..."

"I'm prepared to drop anything I'm doing at a moment's notice if he needs company or distraction, no matter what or when that is."

She pulls away and gives me an intent look. "You...like him...don't you?"

"I..."

"More than Mom."

"...uh..."

"Daaaaad..." she rolls her eyes and smiles at me, looking so much like Ana at her age that it brings tears to my eyes. "You deserve to be happy. Robert makes you happy. I know you only married Mom for me. All I ask is that I get to be at least the flower girl when you marry him."

"Amanda Ann!" I chide as best I can through blushing and embarrassed laughter. "We're not even dating!"

"Yet," she points out. "I have eyes, Dad. It's just a matter of time."

There's nothing I can really say to that, so I pull Melodramatic Dad and imperiously command her back to bed.

===

Robert looks like death warmed over the next day, which is only to be expected. I start him off with aspirin and apple juice and dry toast, with a bendy straw in the apple juice. He doesn't even sit up until he's done with the first course of breakfast, and once he's upright, he looks like he wishes he weren't. I sit next to him and gently urge him to lean against me.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you," he says in a rusty voice. "You didn't deserve that, and I know you forgive me but I'm still sorry."

With 'I forgive you' on my lips, I close my mouth and just hug him a little tighter.

"Manda said you locked up hard. Told me whatever I did, I needed to fix it. I realized I was doing to you what I did to Marilyn. Hated myself. Was already drunk but started drinking harder because fuck, I'm trash, may as well roll in it. But then I realized that was the problem. Moderation won't work with me. Eventually, I'll remember what a horrible person I am and try to drown myself. It's all or nothing, Jack, and you're my all so that leaves nothing."

"Rob..."  I turn and pull him down to lay his head on my chest and for a moment, I just hold him. I'm his all? That makes me feel giddy and humbled. "I'd forgotten the bottle was there. I got it....weeks ago, probably somewhere in late April or early May, so I could offer you a shot or two with dinner. It was just hospitality, like making sure you had clean clothes to put on after a shower."

Robert sighs. "You were being nice and I fucked it up by being an asshole. Story of my life."

"Shhh." I stroke his hair a bit. "You're not alone anymore, Rob. I'm in this with you. Any time, any place, if you need help staying dry you call me. Got it?"

For a long minute, there's silence. Then, quietly, he says, "Thank you, Jack."

===

While Robert's showering, I send a group text to the other dads (except Joseph, who does not have my number) letting them know about Robert's decision and asking them to not make a big deal out of it. One by one they text back with promises to support him without bringing it up. As the week progresses, they make good on those promises - trivia night is as cheesy as ever, but sans wine; grill lunch with Brian pairs burgers with soft drinks; graveyard picnics are washed down with sparkling white grape juice. Robert asks me to chaperone his grocery shopping, what little there is, and insists I do mine at the same time. Then he pays for both, giving me a challenging look while I raise my hands in surrender.

Sunday is...tense. The church activity I agreed to help chaperone is fairly laid-back, and fortunately located in the park. Robert lurks just inside the woods while on the field, the youths color sheets of paper with their favorite Bible stories and then glue them to balsa wood frames to make kites, which they then do their best to fly. I don't think Joseph even knows Robert's there. I get a couple of curious questions when my kite design is purely geometric, and to Joseph's chagrin, soon have a circle of inquisitive teens listening to me explaining what it was like, being married to a Muslim woman who wasn't particularly religious. He doesn't seem very happy when I tell them that I'm not religious either, but that following a religion isn't a requirement for being a good person, or even just wanting to be a good person. But, of course, he can't exactly confront me about it in front of the kids.

Robert laughs when I tell him what I was talking about, and tells me how frustrated Joseph looked. We grab some take-out and spend a quiet evening with our laptops - me working for Craig, him doing something with stocks - before packing up and heading to Jim and Kim's to meet Mary. She's waiting for us in a booth, a glass of wine in front of her and two Cokes waiting for us. Robert slides in first as a silent statement that he's not going to secretly get himself something alcoholic while getting drinks because I'll be getting the drinks, and goes to take a sip of his Coke but stops and hands it to me.

I can smell the whiskey in it. 

"I'll get you another one," I tell him. "Vanilla okay?"

"Have him throw in a shot of grenadine," he says, and I nod.

Neil gives me a funny look as I walk up holding the glass. "Something wrong, Jack?"

"Rob's going sober," I say quietly. "Could I get a vanilla Coke for me and one with a shot of grenadine for him?"

"This may sound weird..." He slides the spiked drink down to a different regular. "...but good on him. Vanilla and grenadine coming right up."

He pours syrups into a pair of glasses and then fills them with Coke. I thank him and take them back to the table, where Mary looks like she's too sober for whatever Robert just said.

"It's not fair," she huffs. "How come you get the unicorn and I get the ass with a horn strapped to its head?"

Robert pauses, glass halfway to his mouth, and then puts it down and buries his face in my shoulder, laughing until he coughs. Mary looks like she wants to be annoyed, but she can't hide her smile. I give her an apologetic look.

"I just..." Robert wheezes a few times and gestures at his forehead. "The thing I gave you..."

Mary's lips twitch, and then she lays her head down on her crossed arms and laughs helplessly.

"Do I want to know?" I ask cautiously as Robert straightens up.

"Oh. Uh. Suction-cup dong."

I'm sure there's more to it than that, considering his flushed cheeks, but we sip our Cokes in silence.

"So you're forsaking the bottle," she says once the laughter has passed and been washed down with wine.

Robert gives me a shy little smile. "There's only room for one Jack Daniel in my life, and this one doesn't punish me in the morning."

I blush, like he knew I would, while Mary shakes her head.

"I can't argue with that. Just wish I could do the same."

"Mary-"

She shakes her head. "No, Jack. This is my cross to bear, but it's sweet of you to be concerned anyway."

The night continues roughly the same way our Sunday nights usually go, with the exception of Robert being completely sober instead of just mostly sober. We walk Mary home and watch as she makes her unsteady way up to the door and inside.

"Gonna be okay tonight?" I ask Robert quietly.

"Should be," he answers. "If not..."

"You have a key and you know where the linen closet is. Or you can call, but I might be sleepy and incoherent."

He smiles, making me melt in the cool night air. "Yeah. Good night, Jack. Sleep well. I'll see you in the morning."

"You too, Rob." I want to kiss him, god how I want to kiss him. I smile instead, and see him melt just a little. "Take care. See you in the morning."

We walk to our respective homes, wave to each other from the door, and finally go inside.

===

The August cookout is almost anticlimactic. Damien brings some sort of fruit punch which he insists Robert try, and Hugo engages Robert in a cinema discussion, and Joseph circles around the edges giving everyone confused looks when he thinks no one's looking. The two weeks following are more hectic, with Amanda finishing her classes and submitting digital paperwork to get her credits transferred and scrambling to make sure everything is in order to go to Horne. Robert tells me he knows a guy who can get him a good deal on a solid used car, and Amanda is beside herself when he drives up in a lightly-used SUV. Then there's a flurry of packing as the day grows close, plans and preparations, and all too soon the day's arrived, and I'm standing on the curb trying not to cry as my little girl hugs me one more time, hugs Robert, and flings herself into the driver's seat with promises to text and a shouted 'I love you' before any of us break down.

Then she's disappearing down the street and Robert's hugging me to his chest, leather and cloves in my nostrils, rocking slightly and petting my hair. He leads me inside and sits me down on the couch and I cry into his shoulder until my throat hurts and I feel numb. While I'm blowing my nose and cleaning the gunk out of my eyes, he texts someone and shortly after, Carmensita knocks on the door with an iced Chai Antwoord and a shy request for an early Italian Night because her dad's craving my ravioli. Robert helps me cook, and dinner is pleasant but wrong, Amanda's absence nagging at me like a loose tooth.

When Mat and his daughter have left, I find myself hugged again and that brings me out of myself enough to clean up with Robert, and he informs me sternly that he's staying the night. I wouldn't have objected even under normal circumstances, but tonight...I don't want to be alone. I can't, I'll shatter. After Amanda texts saying she got into her hotel okay and we exchange ILU/ILU2, Robert puts me to bed on the couch and stretched out challengingly in the recliner. "You've done it for me," he says in a no-nonsense tone that makes me feel just a little more safe and protected. "Now it's my turn to do it for you."

Sleep is...hard. When morning finally comes, I'm still exhausted. Dressing for the morning jog is accomplished only because it's rote by now, and by the last homeward leg I'm feeling alert enough to remember that I won't be cooking breakfast for Manda when we finish the run. Robert steers me to the Coffee Spoon before I can think about it too hard, and we have drinks and pastries. There's a text from Amanda letting me know she's getting breakfast at the hotel and that she'll text again when she hits the road. ILU, the text says, and I blink back tears as I type I LOVE YOU TOO PANDA and hit send.

Robert asks for my help in assessing his overgrown yard, and I gratefully throw myself into that complicated mess. It's eleven before I know it, and after a pair of showers we hit a burger joint for lunch. Then it's laptop time, and Amanda texts at about five-thirty letting me know she got in okay and is checking into the hotel but she's wicked stoked to be at Horne at last. Preparing and eating dinner is frequently interrupted by excited texts babbling happily about this or that as she explores her college town.

Once we're all finished eating, she calls and I put it on speaker and she confesses that it's exciting but terrifying to be on her own like this. Robert reassures her that she's doing fine and then tells her that he'd been herding me, making sure I didn't lock up, and she thanks him for that. "You can use my room while I'm gone," she says, but he nixes that. It's her room, he insists, and if he's sleeping over he'll stick with the couch or my room. That gets a beat of silence while I blush, and then she squeaks out, "Really??" Robert grins at me and says he's kidding, but that later he'll text her the pic of how badly I blushed at the idea. We wrap the call up after that, Amanda going to bed early so she can start moving in as soon as the dorms open, and we do our 'I love you' ritual. There's a part of me that wants to say those words to Robert, too, once I've hung up - but I don't. I think it's kind of understood at this point, and I don't want to push him before he's ready.

Just as we're about to head to Jim and Kim's, there's a knock on the door and it's Mary with a bottle of wine.

"Thought this would be easier," she says as I wave her inside. "According to Joseph, the youths really missed you tonight." She smirks. "He missed you more. Make plans for next weekend, because he was talking about his yacht and that's never good."

I sit next to Robert, who's gone still and tense. "Is this related to the Jimmy Buffet margarita thing?"

Mary flops down into the recliner. "Oh, so he did give you that spiel?"

"You know..." I glance at Robert and take his hand reassuringly. "I got the feeling he was trying to lure me into the idea of being in a tropical paradise with him, but I told him I don't drink and I'm not one for sitting around doing nothing, especially if I was there by myself. That's when he suggested being in a tropical paradise with someone special and I..." My cheeks are hot. "I kinda...thought of Robert...and had to go inside."

That gets both of them laughing, and Robert pulls me in to lean against him, his arms loosely wrapped around me.

"When was this?" Mary asks after she's calmed down and had a long sip of wine.

"Uh..." I have to think. It was my first time in the backyard, which was... "My first Monday in the house. After going bar bopping with you two and then Rob dragging me off for pizza and sneaking into a movie."

"Hey," he growls in mock-affront, "you were a very willing abductee."

"Stockholm Syndrome," I shoot back easily, smiling up at him.

Mary takes another drink and leans forward. "Are you telling me that you resisted my husband's charms because you'd already fallen for this unkempt loser?"

I scoff. "Your husband's lucky I'm not a violent man because I wanted to punch him in the face halfway through our first conversation."

That sets Mary laughing again, and Robert nuzzles briefly at my hair.

"Maybe he shouldn't make plans," Mary tells Robert with a fair amount of unholy glee.

Robert's arms tighten around me. "No," he growls, and he's serious this time. "No yacht."

"Seconded," I tell them. "No yacht. The first and only time I've been on the ocean was a whale-watching trip when Amanda was in sixth grade, and I got horribly seasick."

There's a few beats before Robert says hesitantly, "Maybe he shouldn't make plans," and Mary laughs until she cries.

"I'll leave it in Joseph's hands," I announce. "I'll decline once, warn him the second time that I got seasick, and if he asks a third time...I'll go."

Secretly, I'm kind of hoping Joseph is persistent. I know from a nasty bout of the flu several years back that fresh oranges are remarkably pleasant the second time, and in the years since, I'd learned that I'd done the worst thing possible before the whale watch and had a big, oily, spicy burrito for lunch. If I eat three oranges and stuff myself with Mexican food before the trip, hopefully I can turn the experience into something horrific for Joseph while minimizing my own suffering.

The night goes more quietly and pleasantly than I'd anticipated, with ice cream floats for me and Robert and Mary working her way through the bottle while we talk and joke. At eleven, she hugs us both and asks Robert if he's walking her home.

"I can if you want," he says, "but I'm coming back here to make sure Jack sleeps."

I start to protest, but he gives me a look of Really? and I close my mouth.

"You're a peach, Rob," she sighs. "Fine. Walk me home. Maybe he'll see you come back here after."

Robert glances at me.

"I'll be fine," I assure him. "Just going to brush my teeth."

He doesn't look convinced.  "Okay. I'll be right back."

Brushing my teeth goes without incident. Changing into my pajamas goes without incident. I lay a pair of PJs in the bathroom for Robert and go back to the living room just as he comes in. He smiles at me, turning me to melted chocolate, and locks the front door.

"We could do all kinds of things, and no one would be the wiser," he says in a low voice.

The parts of me that aren't melted are blushing. "But would you feel bad about them later?"

He grimaces. "Probably." Then his expression turns into a wicked smile. "Joseph doesn't need to know that, though."

I laugh. "You're horrible, and I'm no better."

"Hi, No Better," he says, grinning. "I'm Horrible."

He goes to the bathroom to change while I laugh helplessly, and then he herds me towards my bedroom.

"Sleep well, Jack," he says softly. "I'll be on the couch if you need me."

I hug him. "Thanks, Rob. You sleep well, too. I'll see you in the morning."

Sleep grabs me by the shoulders and drags me down, determined to make up for last night.

===

Amanda's daily texts are nice, but it's not a substitute for having her in my house and I'm looking forward to Saturday morning, when we've scheduled a nice, long call. Between Robert's decision to stay sober and my empty nest, there's a lot of texting and calling going on during the first half of the week. Sometimes it's him needing distraction to keep his mind off of the bottle; sometimes it's me that needs distraction. I busywork the hell out of Craig's company, and Robert insists on setting up a stock portfolio for me so he can manage it. Nights are the worst - nearly every night, after we've gone to our respective beds, one of us calls the other and we talk for anywhere from a few minutes to an hour and a half.

Joseph catches me Wednesday afternoon, while I'm tending the yard.

"Howdy, neighbor!" he starts with the usual false cheer. "Been trying to reach you, but you're never on!"

"Yeah, sorry..." No, I'm not. "Been trying to hold things together now that Manda's off at college."

He looks sympathetic. "Empty house, huh? Sounds rough. Maybe I can distract you, if you're free this weekend."

"I don't have anything planned yet," I say slowly. "What did you have in mind?"

"I was looking to get a last summer sail in on my yacht before the weather gets cold, and you look like you could use some company. Just you, me, and the ocean. What do you say?"

Well, to be honest, it sounds surprisingly like a trap. "I'm not on real good terms with the ocean, actually." I try to make it sound apologetic.

He grins at me. "Lucky for you, I am."

"Tell that to my stomach. Haven't been on the water since Amanda's whale watch in sixth grade, and that didn't end well," I warn him.

"I'll tell the whales to back off," he jokes. "Come on. Quick trip to a nearby island. A three-hour tour."

The words echo ominously in my head. Then I realize I'm remembering the Gilligan's Isle theme. Still slightly ominous...but he asked a third time.

"Okay," I say, not bothering to hide that this is a surrender. "A three-hour tour."

Joseph brightens. "Great! Meet me at the marina this Saturday at two."

"This Saturday at two," I repeat. "Got it."

As he turns back to his yard, I wonder which of us is going to regret this more.

===

The next evening, pizza night is...rough. I made a Hawaiian pizza, and it was good, but the last two slices haunt us until we eat them cold. Then Robert suggests an outing to Jim and Kim's, and it's not a surprise when Mary is already there. She and Robert are both amused and concerned when I tell them over soft drinks and wine about my conversation with Joseph the previous day. Mary encourages me to aim for her husband with a dismissive comment about him having clothes on the boat because he sleeps there some nights. Robert seems unhappily withdrawn, and I know that it's a struggle for him to not give in and get drunk. Whatever his history with Joseph's yacht, I don't ask. If he wants me to know, he'll tell me. Mary reassures him that I'll be fine, but while she's fetching the next round he tells me in a fierce undertone to not eat or drink anything on the yacht. I reassure him that I wouldn't be able to even if I were inclined, and he apologizes for being a paranoid wreck.

After we walk Mary home, I tug Robert into the backyard with me and sit with him on the bench under the cherry tree. For several minutes we just sit there, arms around each other and hands clasped.

"I'm still worried," he mutters, breaking the silence.

I lay my head on his shoulder. "Thank you for worrying. It feels good, knowing that you care."

Robert sighs and hugs me tighter. "Even if I'm a paranoid mess?"

"You stayed strong and didn't give in to alcohol. You've gotten a lot better, Rob, and I'm proud of you."

"You're special to me. I don't want anything bad to happen to you," he says softly, and oh god I want to kiss his neck, his jaw, anything.

"I won't say I'll be fine," I tell him softly, "because I'm going to be puking my guts out. But I doubt the trip will last more than an hour or two and if Joseph tries anything, I'll barf in his face."

Robert chuckles and rests his cheek against the top of my head. "I wish I could see that. I'd take video." He pauses while I giggle. "I know where Joseph moors. I'll be waiting when he brings you back."

But he doesn't know when we'll be back, which means- "You don't have to sit there waiting for me the whole time, Rob."

"Yes," he growls, "I do. If I'm not there glued to the dock waiting, I'll be getting drunk and that's not what you need to deal with when you get off that thing. As soon as you get off the boat, I'll be there to take you home and fuss over you."

He would really do that? He'd wait three hours and then take me home to fuss over?

Well...now that I'm thinking about it...yes. Yes, he would, and it makes me feel loved in a way I'm not sure I've experienced in the last thirty years.

"Thank you," I say quietly.

Then I yawn, and he yawns, and we both laugh.

"Time for bed, Jack," he says, releasing me with reluctance.

"Yeah. You gonna be okay?" I ask as I stand up.

"Yeah. Sleep well, Jack. I'll see you in the morning."

I smile at him, and want to melt when he smiles back. "Take care, Rob. Sleep well."

Slowly, he wanders out of the backyard and I go into the house. I still watch - awkwardly - through the front window until he gets to his door, and only turn to go to bed once he's safely inside.

===

I spend Friday being grateful for my understanding and supportive friends, and especially for Robert. Saturday dawns crisp and cool with a promise of warming up after lunch. Robert looks tense, which is only to be expected because I'm more than a little tense, myself. Amanda calls while Robert and I are having breakfast. We talk for nearly two hours before she dashes off to meet some friends for brunch.

"I'm only doing this in the hopes that he'll leave me alone afterwards," I tell Robert as we climb into his truck around twelve-thirty.

He grunts. "I hope it works."

We get to the marina area and Robert pulls into a parking lot, where he helps me peel my three oranges.

"Why three oranges?" he asks while I'm eating them.

"Helps fill me up. Also, hydration."

When I'm done with the oranges, we go over to Manda's favorite burrito stand and I order a pair of the biggest, meatiest, cheesiest burritos possible. Then I smother them in hot sauce and more cheese. Robert gives me concerned looks as I dig in, but doesn't say anything. It's a struggle to get the last bites down.

"You okay?" he asks softly as I wipe my mouth.

"I'm wound up because I'm about to get horribly seasick, and I've got about one burrito too many inside me," I say dryly. "Other than that, I'm fine."

Robert smiles softly. "Okay. Remember, I'll be waiting. Take care, Jack. Come back safe."

Tears that have nothing to do with hot sauce spring to my eyes. "Thank you, Rob. I'll do my best."

I want to say I love you, but the words stick in my throat. Mutely, I do the dumb teenager thing where I form a heart with my hands and hold them over my chest. Robert looks stunned, and slowly he forms his own hand-heart and holds it over his chest, too. We smile at each other like a pair of lovestruck idiots, and then the alarm on my phone goes off. Five minute warning. I nod at Robert. He nods at me. It's time to go find Joseph.

Fighting nerves, I walk along the marina looking at the boats and wondering which one is Joseph's until he hails me from the deck of the St. Peter. Inherited it from his dad, he tells me. A real fire-and-brimstone type who loved yachts. That explains some of Joseph being so deep in the closet. Warily, I climb aboard and take a seat in the sunken...sitting area. Joseph looks happier and more alive than I've ever seen him as he casts off and rings the bell and does other things I have no terms for.

"We'll be out of the bay soon," he reassures me before humming a song I finally identify as 'Brandy' when he bursts into heartfelt song at the line But my life, my love, and my lady is the sea.

The motion of the boat isn't too bad, and I'm starting to worry that I won't get seasick, but then we get out of the bay and the waves suddenly triple in size and my stomach feels like it's going to climb out of my body and swim back to shore. I close my eyes, clench my jaw, and grip the arms of the chair as though I were physically restraining the nausea.

"Jack?" Joseph calls. "Hang in there, the island's not far."

I hang in there. Every wave brings uncomfortable memories of the two burritos now churning inside me like the ocean in every movie that has a nasty storm while in the background, Joseph keeps singing enthusiastically. I keep my eyes closed, all my concentration on making sure the burritos don't make a break for freedom. An unknown length of time later, something touches my hand and my eyes fly open. I have just enough time to register Joseph crouching down beside me, a concerned look on his face. Then the boat bucks and when I open my mouth, what comes out isn't words.

The oranges didn't help at all. Maybe I just haven't gotten to them yet. On the plus side, my stomach is no longer over-full and the other burrito doesn't feel like it's desperate to leap overboard. On the minus side, that is disgusting, both to look at and to smell, and I'm over clinging to the railing in about three seconds flat. Behind me, I can hear Joseph get up and go...inside? Is that the right word on a boat? I don't really care because I'm trying to keep the rest of my lunch down. Eventually I hear Joseph come back out and do...something...something wet. Probably cleaning up my mess. Oh, that was the wrong thing to think about because now that's all I can think about and the other burrito is getting restless.

"Jack?" Joseph calls warily from behind me. "Are you...uh..."

About to puke my guts out? Probably.

Strike that. Absolutely.

"If you're going to be sick, I brought a bucket..." There's a sliding, scraping noise. "You don't want to be sick over that side, the wind's in your face."

Oh. Excellent point. I crack one eye open and gingerly look around, locating the bucket just as my stomach's decided enough is enough. With superhuman speed, I lunge for it and wind up on my knees, arms wrapped around a bright orange five-gallon bucket as my stomach turns itself violently inside-out.

Ah, there's the oranges. The silver lining to this whole thing.

Joseph is keeping his distance with the wariness only possessed by a man who has found himself wearing another man's lunch, although it looks like he's changed clothes. When it looks like I'm done he rolls me a bottle of water. I note the seal breaking as I open it, rinse my mouth, and then spit. He slides me a new bucket next, and I abandon my old best friend for my new best friend before retreating to another chair in the seating area. Joseph takes the first bucket, looks at me, and decides against dumping it over the side. Instead, he takes it back inside and comes out looking disgruntled. He's also definitely wearing a different set of clothes. I might be in danger of smirking if my stomach weren't still wanting to throw a fit.

"I guess we'll just head back," he says, and I nod weakly.

He tries to make a joke about how I wasn't kidding when I said I didn't get along with the ocean, but I'm not paying attention. Thankfully, having nothing left to expel keeps things to nausea without dry-heaving, but it's still a relief when the boat bumps to a stop. I have no memory of actually leaving the boat, as far as I'm concerned I teleported straight to the pier - dock? - whatever, I'm on dry land on my hands and knees drawing in deep, grateful breaths as the nausea subsides.

"You?" It's an incredulous statement as much as it is a question, and it's...Joseph's voice?

A familiar pair of boots walks up and Robert goes down on one knee beside me, his hand on my back. "Hey. You okay?"

"I will be," I answer in an undertone, "but he doesn't need to know that."

"I got you some ginger ale," he says casually. "It's a bit warm and flat by now, but that'll just make it gentler on your stomach."

Robert helps me to my feet and hands me the cup of ginger ale he'd been holding. I sip at it, relieved to find that it's not warm and flat, but I cuddle it and lean against him in a show of feigned misery.

"Let's get you home," Robert says with concern that's not feigned, and I nod weakly.

Joseph calls out to me, a vague apology and something about seeing me at...I don't even know, I'm not paying attention. Robert's arm around my shoulder surrounds me with the subtle scents of leather and clove, and I let him lead me away and out of sight.

"Thanks for the drink," I say once we're back at his truck. "I don't think I can face solid food for a while."

"Went that good?" he teases.

"Got him from neck to knees. He was afraid to get near me the whole way back. What time is it?"

He laughs. "Quarter of four. Plenty of time to get your appetite back before I take you out to dinner."

"Nowhere too fancy," I tell him. "I just want to have a quiet evening."

Robert smiles at me. "I know a good Thai place. You can have soup for dinner and have it be an actual meal."

I smile back at him. "You spoil me, Rob."

For just a second, it looks like he's going to lean in and kiss me. Then he turns away, blushing. "Well, someone has to," he says gruffly.

His (carefully-trimmed) stubble scratches my cheek as I hug him. "Thank you."

For a moment, he trembles, and then he hugs me tightly. "Thank you. Now get in the truck," he commands me, pushing me towards the door which he holds open.

Grinning, I obey and sip my ginger ale while he drives me home. A shower, a change of clothes, and we climb back into the truck. Dinner is quiet and intimate, tucked into a booth in what looks almost like a Chinese restaurant. I'm not entirely clear on what's in my soup, but it's creamy and spicy with chicken and some type of brown mushrooms and bits of other vegetables. It reminds me of Robert: a little wild, a little mild, and makes me feel warm and content.

I'm a sap.

Robert doesn't drive back to the cul-de-sac. Instead, he takes us out to his thinking spot and we whittle in silence, watching the sun say over Maple Bay. At one point, Robert excuses himself to "mark his territory" and when I imagine the Dover Ghost sniffing trees like a dog, I discover that it hurts to giggle.

On the way home, I drift off and wake up when we get to the cul-de-sac.

"I'm glad you're okay," Robert says as he walks me to my door.

It takes a significant effort to not lean in and kiss his cheek. "Thank you for being there, Rob."

He smiles, and yep, I'm a sap. "Sleep well, Jack. I'll see you in the morning."

"You, too. Although I don't know how well I'm going to be jogging."

Robert pulls me into a tight hug. "Sleep in if you need to. Take care of yourself, or I'll do it for you."

That makes me laugh, even though my abused muscles protest. "I will, I promise. Take care. Call if you need me."

He hugs me a little tighter. "For tonight," I murmurs, "I'm fine."

Oh my god I'm in love.