“You’re…you’re leaving?” I ask, my voice hollow to my own ears as I watch him pack from the doorway.

“I gotta go, baby,” he replies easily, folding one of his shirts, one of the one’s I bought him, one of his favorites, and he lays it gingerly into the case. “I got meetings in Brentwood and then this thing in Vegas.”

My heart tugs. I hate it when he leaves. I hate that his job has him all over the place and not with me always. I still don’t know how I went ten years without him. He looks up and his face softens and it’s only then I realize I’m frowning, well, pouting really. I bite my lip and look away.

“I’ll be back in a few days, Sky,” he says softly, and when I don’t look at him I hear him sigh, his feet padding across the carpet as he comes to me. “I have to be,” he tips my chin up and my eyes crash into his. “We’re leaving for your parents place, remember?”

He smiles and I can’t keep from smiling myself. He brings his lips to mine and I let myself get lost in it for a moment before he pulls back and rubs his thumb along my cheek bone before going back to his suitcase.

“Is your meeting important?” I ask, chewing on my bottom lip and he smiles.

“I’m draggin’ myself away from you, aren’t I,” he smirks and I blush.

He’s good at that. Making me feel like I’m the most important thing in his life. I’m not. But he still makes me feel that way. With Justin, his career is number one. But he loves me. He adores me. I’m the closest any woman has gotten to number one and the fact that he was comfortable enough with me to tell me this is a blessing in itself. So I don’t mind not being first, because he makes me feel that way anyway.

But I want him to stay. It’s selfish, I know. But part of me, that ten year old girl that stands on the front porch of a little farm house in West Virginia watching her father’s car drive away, never wants him to go. I want him to stay when I ask him to. I want him to want to be with me always. But I don’t tell him this. I barely tell myself this. It makes me feel needy and broken and neither of us needs that.

“Come on, Sky,” he sighs as he zips up his bag, “don’t make that face.”

“What face?” I ask, trying to pull my features into something different but I’m not sure if I accomplish it.

“The ‘you just kicked my puppy’ face,” he sighs, a small smile tugging at his lips and I glare at him.

“I did not,” I argue, a smile pulling at my lips and he grins.

“Put whatever spin you want on it, babe,” he replies, condescension in his voice and I scowl at him but it melts when he walks past me and pecks my cheek affectionately.

I follow him through the living room of my apartment. Well, our apartment really but we don’t call it that. He stays here when he’s in town. He keeps his clothes here, his shirts in my closet, his underwear next to mine in the drawer. His toothbrush is next to mine in my little holder and his shoes are taking up the majority of my closet. He lives here. But he’s a man so he needs to think he doesn’t. I kinda love that about him really. How completely committed he is but how he kids himself into thinking he’s not.

“I’ll be back in a few days,” he says when we reach the door and as he opens it he pauses and cups my cheek in his large hand. “I’ll miss you.”

I smile up at him, standing on my tip toes to kiss him. He deepens it, dropping his bag to the floor with a thud, allowing him to wrap his arms fully around me, pressing my body to his. My palms flatten against his back as his tongue dips in to taste me and I can tell this could go somewhere pretty fast. His fingertips dig into my lower back as he pulls away breathlessly, licking his lips and I reach up to kiss him again softly.

“I’m gonna miss my flight,” he chuckles and I sigh, nodding slightly.

He picks up his bag and kisses me softly on the cheek as he steps out the door and moves to walk toward the elevator. He pauses, frowning and turns the other direction to take the stairs instead. He grins at me sheepishly as he passes. He told me once he doesn’t do elevators when leaving if he can help it.

“Justin,” I say just as he’s pushing the door open to the stairwell and he looks back at me questioningly. I bite my lip. “Don’t go.”

It’s quiet and kind of pitiful and I hate myself for doing this to him. His eyes soften and he walks back to me, cupping my face in his hand again. He kisses my forehead, both my eyelids, the tip of my nose and eventually my mouth before he speaks.

“Skylar, I have to go,” he says, his voice soft and deep and I sigh, nodding.

“I know, I’m sorry. I know you hate it when I do this,” I say, looking down at his pristine sneakers.

“It’s okay,” he replies, his nose nuzzling mine and then he hooks his finger under my chin, forcing my eyes to meet his. “Three days,” he says, his eyes boring into mine and I smile, nodding. “I’ll call you when I get off the plane, okay?”

“Okay,” I say nodding and he grins.

“That’s my girl.”

I giggle as he tilts his head, nibbling at my neck a little before pulling back and grabbing his bag again. I softly call goodbye and he raises his hand in acknowledgement but does not look back, not trusting himself to leave if he does.

“You nervous?” I ask, not taking my eyes off the road as I navigate the winding two lane highway that leads to my hometown.

“No,” Justin says simply, looking out the window, his finger tapping against his leg in time with the radio.

“You sure about that?” I ask smirking at him, watching him from the corner of my eye and he gives me a condescending smile.

“No, Skylar, I’m not nervous,” he says slowly, as if I was dimwitted and I giggle at him.

“Not even a little? I mean you’re meeting my parents for the first time,” I prod and he shrugs.

“They’re just people, Sky,” he says but a shadow passes over his face.

“You’ll like my dad,” I say forcing my smile down. “He’ll wanna show you his shotgun collection as soon as we get there.”

Justin’s face blanches slightly but he doesn’t crack. “I grew up in Tennessee, Skylar. Everyone has guns there.”

“Oh you’re no fun,” I pout and he smirks at me from the passenger seat.

“Do you want me to be nervous?” he asks and I giggle a little.

“Well, of course not,” I sigh, shaking my head at him. We’re quiet for a moment.

“Wait,” Justin says after a moment. “Are you nervous?”

“Me?” I ask, my voice jumping an octave. “Why would I be nervous?”

“Because I’m meeting your parents for the first time,” he states simply and I scoff but my stomach ties in a knot and I realize what he’s known for a full minute before me.

“They’re going to love you,” I say nodding, my wrists flexing as I twist my clenched hands around the steering wheel.

“Damn straight,” he says nodding and I eye him. He’s such a cocky bastard.

“You’re a cocky bastard,” I smirk, not being able to stop myself.

“You love my cock,” he deadpans and I nearly crash into oncoming traffic from shock. Justin tenses. “Want me to drive babe?”

“No,” I spat and we’re silent for a moment before we both burst into giggles.

The countryside gives way to subdivisions and before I know it I’m turning onto our street and a warmness settles over me as I travel the familiar road. I pass the Jenison’s house, the marker for how far I could ride my bike when I first learned. I see the Whitikers’ mailbox is still dented from where I hit it when I was learning how to drive. I smile, the memories flooding me as I pull into our driveway, the old farmhouse weathered but cozy.

It’s a pity this is the first time Justin is seeing it, trees bare and flowers withered and gone. In the spring our front yard is a burst of color, Great Laurel bushes nestled against the wide porch, tulips lining the walk, the sugar maple trees lush and green. I unbuckle my seatbelt and Justin does the same, trotting around the back of the car to pull our bags from the trunk.

I wait for him to step up next to me before making my way up the walk, remembering games of hide and seek and summer days spent running through the sprinklers. Those days are gone now though and I shiver as the winter wind whips through my jacket. I loop my arm through Justin’s, one of the suitcases bumping my thigh but he’s warm and he feels good. He pecks my forehead as we take slow steps towards the front porch. I hear Justin snort.

“Great, now I’m nervous,” he grumbles and I laugh openly which causes him to glare at me.

“You’ll be fine, babe,” I say patting his forearm but his face is dark and he’s pouting slightly.

I stop just at the steps to the porch and rise up on my tip toes to peck his cheek, fully prepared to tell him how wonderful he is when a hard voice calls from the doorway.

“Skylar Jane! You’re past curfew young lady!”

I cringe as my mother’s warning voice floats to my ears and I look up to see her standing just outside the screen door, hands fisted on her wide hips, a smile tugging at her lips. I break into a smile, squeezing Justin’s wrist as I tug him up the steps of the wide wrap around porch, letting go only when my mother envelops me in a hug.

“It’s so good to have you home,” she whispers into my hair before pulling back and eyeing Justin, who’s setting our bags down on the top step.

“Momma,” I say, somewhat shyly, reaching to take Justin’s hand, tugging him forward. “This is Justin.”

“Hello, Mrs. McKibbons,” Justin says, his voice deep and low, the only indication he’s nervous because his smile is dazzling.

“Oh don’t be silly,” my mother says, waving away his outstretched hand and pulling him into a hug. “Call me Vivian.”

He chuckles, wrapping his arms around her and I feel my heart swell. This is what I wanted. For him to be accepted with open arms and for her to genuinely love him, not just because I love him. I smile softly. It’s impossible not to love him.

“Well, just look at you,” my mother says pulling back finally and holding him at arms length. “Handsome thing isn’t he?” he asks me and Justin dips his head in a blush.

“Oh Momma stop!” I scold, but only half heartedly because, frankly, I agree. I wrap my arm through his, leaning into him, savoring the warmth of his body.

“Okay, okay,” my mother says, eyeing the two of us before turning back to the door. “Come on lets get inside before we catch our deaths.”

Justin lets go of my hand and picks up our bags again as we step inside, the screen door smacking shut behind us. I look around, the house relatively the same since I last came home, except for a few thanksgiving decorations here and there.

“Well, you got here just in time for dinner,” my mother says, pushing a limp curl back from her forehead as her eyes flit down the long hallway towards the kitchen. “Why don’t you take Justin upstairs and put your bags in your room?”

I nod and Justin gives my mother a small smile before turning to follow me up the stairs. He’s following close behind as I lead the way to my childhood room, moving down the hall, passing my mother’s sewing room and my parents room before stopping at a closed door at the end of the hall. The wooden placard with my name painted in bright green and blue still hangs from the push pin I’d placed there in high school.

I open the door and it’s like stepping into a time warp, taking me back to side ponytails and stonewash denim and I’m seventeen years old again, coming home from school to drop off my bag before running to Cosway’s Diner to meet my friends for some French fries and a strawberry shake. I’ll have to remember to take Justin there later.

I step inside and he stands in the doorway, looking in bemusedly and I smile at him, bidding him to enter. He steps inside and sets the bags on the foot of the bed as I instruct him, before moving around and looking at things, fingers brushing perfume bottles, reading old notes that have grown yellow tacked to my bulletin board for years. He scoffs at my shelves crammed with trophies and certificates, medals and ribbons hanging from tacks that I shoved into the wood.

“You really were an overachiever huh?” he chuckles, turning to me as I begin to unpack my suitcase and I narrow my eyes at him.

“Um, excuse me Mr. Four-Time-Grammy-Winner. I’ve seen the trophy room in your house.”

He smirks, moving to fall onto my bed, bouncing a little and the springs squeak quietly under his weight. He screws up his face and his back arches as he reaches beneath him to tug out a lump of worn gray fabric. My eyes widen in alarm.

“What do we have here?” he asks amusedly, holding the old stuffed rabbit by the ear.

“Give me that!” I say snatching at it but he swings the threadbare toy out of my grasp and my stomach lurches at his carelessness.

“Friend of yours?” he teases gently, examining the mismatched button eyes.

“Don’t hold Bun Bun by the ear!” I scold, snatching the toy and holding it against my chest, my stomach unknotting now that he is safely in my arms and a slight sense of sheepishness washes over me.

“Bun Bun?” he questions, raising an eyebrow at me and I glare at him, patting Bun Bun’s head affectionately before setting him gingerly on the chair next to the window.

“Don’t even start,” I say and he laughs openly. I smirk. “Shall we discuss your Simba pillow?”

The smile wipes right off his face and he scowls at me before grinning good naturedly. He lays against the pillows, staring at the ceiling and humming an easy tune as I unpack my things, placing them in the empty drawers, the only indication I don’t actually live here any more.

“You want me to unpack yours?” I ask and when my eyes meet his I find him staring at me intently. I freeze because I know that look.

“Am I the first guy you’ve brought home?” he asks, his fingers playing over the fine stitching of my quilt.

“Um…what?” I ask and his eyes meet mine again, smiling.

“Am I the first guy you’ve brought home to meet your parents?”

I open my mouth to protest but I snap it shut as I think back. I never allowed my high school boyfriend in the house for fear of embarrassment. I didn’t really date much in college and after that I’d met a few of my paramours’ families but they’d never met mine. Justin’s grinning widely at me and I purse my lips.

“Well, don’t you just feel so special,” I tease and he nods, his smile fading into a predatory look that makes me swallow hard.

“Am I the first boy to be in your bed?” he poses the question innocently, almost as if he were simply asking me where I had put his golf glove.

I don’t realize my mouth is hanging open until he gives me a look that causes me to snap it shut. I swallow hard as he rolls onto his side, propping his head on his hand and letting his eyes lick over my body. My eyes flick to the open door apprehensively, listening for anyone who may be just down the hall.

“Come’ere.”

My eyes snap to Justin, who’s smiling softly at me, his hand smoothing over the open space next to him and I’m thrown back into the memory of him across the room in some hotel in some city, knowing we had to get through a section. I lick my lips at the thought of what had happened next.

“Justin,” I say, warning in my voice and he gives me that innocent look that I still can’t believe he can pull off after all the things he’s done to me.

“Skylar,” he says back grinning. “Come on, we’re both grown.” He smirks. “Well…now we are.”

“Justin!” I exclaim like I always do when he refers so cheekily to our past.

“You wanna scream my name you need to get over here,” he grins and before I can even respond he darts up and snatches me to him.

I struggle against him, laughing and pushing against his chest feebly before he rolls me onto my back, pinning me against the mattress, his hips pressed flush against mine. His mouth hovers above mine and the lust in his eyes softens with affection as he nuzzles his nose with mine. He presses our mouths together, tongue dipping in lazily and my arms snake around his neck, one of my legs slipping between his. He hums softly, pulling back just slightly and I lick my lips before kissing him slowly, again and again.

“Skylar!” my mother’s voice wafts up stairs and we both freeze, muscles tensing. “Dinner’s ready!”

“Coming!” I call after a beat and Justin smirks, dipping his head to nuzzle my neck.

“Oh you will be,” he replies lowly causing my stomach to coil.

“Justin!” I giggle, pushing at his chest and he rolls off me, allowing me to sit up. “What has gotten into you?”

“I dunno, something about this room,” he says looking around, his tongue sliding against the inside of his bottom lip. “Thinking about you losing your virginity in here…”

“I did not lose my virginity in here,” I say laughing and shaking my head.

“Oh really?” he asks raising his eyebrows in a way that tells me I’m going to regret having told him that. “Then where, pray tell,” he reaches to push my hair back off my shoulder, his fingers grazing my neck just slightly, “did you lose it?”

I can feel myself beginning to blush and I stand abruptly. “We’re gonna be late for dinner.”

Justin smirks at me and I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear nervously. He sighs, pulling himself from the bed and walks towards me. He leans into me, his scent enveloping me as his lips hover near my ear, not touching me at all.

“Tonight I’m going to fuck you in that bed, you know that right?”

My jaw drops and he just smirks at me, his eyes smoldering before he saunters out the door, leaving me to chase after him, dry mouthed and dazed.

“There’s my girl!” the loud booming voice of my father greets me as I step into the dining room, Justin tucked behind me and his hands immediately drop from my hips.

“Daddy!” I exclaim and I’m ten years old, running into his arms after he’d been gone on a long business trip.

He’s just slightly taller than me, his body thin but warm as I hug him tight, the smell of pipe tobacco and talcum powder invading my senses. I pull back and he holds me at arms length looking me over thoroughly. I bite my lip, suddenly wondering if my sweater is severely rumpled from mine and Justin’s roll in bed.

“Where’s my little girl?” he exclaims brightly and I grin at him. “I could have sworn the last time I saw you, you had pigtails.”

I dip my head, blushing and smiling under my father’s attention. His eyes flit past me and he stands a little straighter. I look back to see Justin standing in the doorway to the living room, his face pulled into a pleasant expression but nervousness shows in his eyes.

“And who is this young man?”

“Daddy, this is Justin,” I say, holding my hand out to him and Justin steps forward taking it and nodding at my father.

“Honor to meet you Mr. McKibbons,” he says, his voice low, his shoulders back and he’s standing tall, stretching every inch of his six foot one frame to its full height.

“Ah, Justin…” my father says, nodding and shaking Justin’s hand firmly. “My wife says Skylar talks about you constantly.”

“Dad!” I exclaim blushing.

“Oh, did I botch this already?” my father teases me, letting go of Justin’s hand and smiling at me. “I’ve never done this before. What is the proper thing to say to the first boy your little girl brings home?”

My face is on fire as Justin turns to me smirking and I wish the floor would swallow me whole.

“Oh Jim stop!” my mother exclaims, rescuing me in only the way mothers can. “Dinner’s getting cold.”

We move into the dining room and I see that we’re eating off of my great grandmother’s wedding china, reserved only for the most special of occasions. I can only remember eating on it once in my entire life and that was when my father had gotten his promotion from District Manager to Regional Director when I was fourteen. I grin, squeezing Justin’s hand in mine before letting go taking my usual chair closest to the door. My father moves to his chair in front of the china cabinet and my mother moves around the table to take her usual seat closest to the kitchen. Justin sidles around taking the empty chair in front of the window.

I take a look at the spread before us, fried pork chops and mashed potatoes and corn. The salad is in the crystal salad dish instead of the usual plastic tupperware container. Slices of bread are fanned out neatly on a serving plate instead of one of us having just tossed the bag on the table for consumption. My eyes flit to my mother and she smiles at me, her eyes a little nervous, wondering if all of this is satisfactory and I smile warmly at her. It’s more than I could have ever hoped for.

“Well, lets bless this mess,” my mother says with a sigh and her eyes fall on Justin. “Would you like to say the prayer, Justin?”

I tense my eyes falling to my lap. Justin has a quiet faith, the kind he rarely advertises and while I know he prays he never does it aloud. When I look up at him, fully prepared to save him, he’s smiling and pulling his arms from underneath the table to reach for mine and my mother’s hands.

“I’d love to,” he says and I grasp his hand and my mother does the same, our other hands reaching to my father who takes them and we are joined as we bow our heads. “Father God,” Justin begins and clears his throat slightly before going on, “Thank You for giving us safe travels today and for bringing me here to meet Skylar’s family.” I squeeze his hand and he squeezes back. “I thank You for all that You’ve given us, Lord, especially for this meal and please let it nourish our bodies as You nourish our hearts and bless the hands that prepared it. In Your name we pray, Amen.”

We all pull our heads up and let go, but I wait a beat, running my thumb along Justin’s knuckles before releasing him and we begin to pass the food around chatting easily, Justin charming my mother into giggles, my father watching bemusedly from the head of the table.

“So, Justin,” my father says as our laughter quiets and we’re tucking into our food. “Viv tells me you’re a musician?”

Justin jaw works slowly over the food in his mouth as he nods and when he swallows he says, “Yes.”

“Good money in that?” my father asks and I cringe.

“It’s not bad,” Justin replies, smiling slightly and my father grins.

“What kind of music?” he asks and I wonder if he’s ever heard Justin’s music before. I seriously doubt it since the only thing he listens to is talk-radio and a few old Johnny Cash records.

Justin takes a drink of his water. “Oh all kinds. Pop mostly. Some R&B…electronica, it really just depends on the vibe of the session.”

“Vibe huh?” my father says, his eyes cutting to me mischievously. “You’re younger than Sky yes?”

I nearly choke on my food, swallowing hard and Justin shifts in his chair. “A little, yeah.”

“Dad,” I say, dipping me head and he smirks at me.

“Oh Jim stop,” my mother sighs, rescuing me again and I love her more than I ever have before.

“Pop music huh?” my dad says, pushing us back into something a little more neutral. “Like that dancing in unison malarkey?”

Justin laughs openly. “Yeah I used to do that,” he grins good naturedly, “Now it’s more of a choreographed freestyle. Which I guess is an oxymoron.” He chuckles at himself and I beam at him.

“A what?” my father asks, quirking an eyebrow at Justin, leaning a little into the table and Justin swallows the bite he just took.

“An oxymoron? Like combining two contradictory words-”

“No, I know what an oxymoron is,” my father says, smiling slightly and Justin shuts up immediately his face pinkening. I wish I could reach for his hand. “I mean this dance business.”

“Oh it’s just…um…” Come on Jus baby you can do it. His face changes and his mask slips on. Interview mode. “It’s just free you know, but we still have the dancers so we have to have some kind of order.”

“Dancers?” my father asks and Justin nods.

“Yeah, like on the last tour we had nine dancers and we would all be doing things on different parts of the stage but it was all somewhat unified.”

“Uh huh,” my father says, eyeing Justin warily and his eyes flit to me and my heart drops a little.

His eyes are questioning and I know he’s wondering what the hell I’m doing with this kid. His eyes say “a dancer Skylar? Really?” and I look down at my lap. I really wanted them to get along. I wanted them to sit on the front porch and talk about sports and play golf together. My chest lightens.

“Daddy, Justin loves golf,” I say suddenly and both men look at me as if I have just spoken in tongues.

“Yeah,” Justin says looking at me and smiling a little. “I do. Do you play, sir?”

“I’ve played a little in my time,” my father says, leaning back and pushing his empty plate forward which cues my mother to stand and take his plate along with hers into the kitchen.

“Are there many good courses around here?” Justin asks, adding more mashed potatoes to his plate and shoveling them into his mouth in that way he does when food tastes good to him. I grin.

“We’ve got a pretty nice club the next town over,” my father says. “What’s your handicap?”

“Um I think I’m around a six now,” Justin says hanging his head slightly.

My father’s eyebrows raise. “Really?”

Justin nods. “Yeah I was at four at one point but I’ve just been so busy. Haven’t had that much time on the links.”

They launch into a conversation on golf courses, Justin telling my father about the different courses he’s played, my father asking questions occasionally and regaling Justin with his tale of how he once got a hole in one. Justin listens, seemingly enthralled, watching my father with admiration. It’s all I can do to keep from grinning like an idiot. This leads into talk about the perfect golf clubs and the right form and when Justin finally finds a way to slip in that he shot a 98 at Torrey Pines I can see my father coming around slowly.

“Are you finished, honey?” my mother asks, returning from the kitchen and reaching for Justin’s plate.

“Oh, yes ma’am,” he says, sitting back and allowing her to take it from him. “Do you need some help? I can-”

“Oh hush,” my mother says, patting him on the shoulder and I grin.

“I’ll help, Mom,” I say, standing now that I know things are going better between the men at the table.

“Are you sure?” Justin asks, looking from me to my mother. “Because I can-”

“You don’t move a muscle,” my mother scolds lightly and Justin looks down in concession.

I smile, running a hand across his shoulders as I pass behind him enroute to the kitchen. He cranes his neck to watch me and I can feel his eyes on me as I pass. My father is standing from the table and opening the bottom cabinet of the large curio behind him.

“What’s your drink of choice, Justin?” he asks and I stop in the doorway to the kitchen. I know where this is going.

“Jack Daniels,” Justin says, nodding his head, puffing his chest out slightly and I fight my grin.

“Jack Daniels!” my father exclaims, “that sissy stuff?”

I cringe and Justin just blinks back at him. It’s a challenge. I know this because this is how my father is. He pushes and prods, trying to get a rise out of you, testing your breaking point. Justin clears his throat nervously before his mask comes up again.

“Well, it’s the drink of choice in Tennessee,” he grins good naturedly and shrugs. “I grew up on it.” My father raises an eyebrow and Justin’s smile fades. “Not that I drink a lot…or at a young age…I mean…”

His ears turn red and he looks away. I open my mouth to save him but my father speaks first.

“Well, come here and have a glass of this,” my father says and I see him setting a dusty bottle on the table, the liquid inside clear and ominous and I know what that is.

“Dad, Justin doesn’t want that,” I say as Justin stands and rounds the table to stand next to my father.

“Skylar, go get me some glasses from the kitchen,” he replies uncorking the bottle.

“Justin,” I say and he gives me a slight shake of his head, his eyes telling me to shut up and let him do this.

I sigh, trudging into the kitchen and setting my plate on the counter next to the sink where my mother is washing them by hand before putting them in the dishwasher. I have tried to explain that this is unnecessary but she doesn’t listen. I sigh, opening the cabinet and pulling out two tumblers.

“How’s it going in there?” my mother asks and I sigh.

“Pissing contest,” I reply and my mother laughs.

“His baby girl won’t be taken without a fight,” she responds.

I stop to look at her and she hasn’t even turned, her back still to me, washing the dishes diligently. They say there’s a time in every girls life when you realize you’re mother is a genius and I think this moment is mine. I never really thought about it in terms of losing but in terms of gaining. My father isn’t losing me to Justin. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll always be here waiting on the porch for him. Just now I won’t be doing it alone.

I step back into the dining room and my father is explaining the concept of making moonshine.

“…and then they run it through the still again…Ah there’s my girl,” he says holding out his hand and I give him a hard look.

He takes the glasses and fills them until they are about a quarter full and I fold my arms across my chest. My father hands one to Justin who takes it, swirling his glass and eying the liquid inside. I want to tell them to just stop this because I know what’s in that glass. My father gave me some in high school after I had stumbled in drunk from a party. I didn’t drink again until I was in college.

“Cheers,” my father says, clinking his glass with Justin’s, who nods his head before they both toss the drink back.

My father comes back up smacking his lips and he eyes Justin who struggles to swallow, his face white, sweat breaking out across his forehead. He coughs a little, pushing air out of his lungs the best he can, knowing the second he inhales he’s going to hack and sputter. He breathes in through his nose and puts his hand to his mouth and tries to mask his cough as he shakes his head from side to side.

My father claps him on the back, grinning widely. It seems Justin has finally made it into his good graces. I roll my eyes. Boys and their games. My mother scuttles in from the kitchen, grabbing more plates from the table. She straightens when she sees the bottle on the table.

“Jim, what are you doing to the poor boy,” my mother scolds and my father grins.

“I was just showing him what good whiskey is, Viv,” he replies and my mother gives him a stern look. “He took it well,” my father adds, patting Justin’s shoulder. “No chaser or anything.”

Justin is holding onto the table, looking very green and I itch to go to him and touch his face.

“Skylar, get him a glass of water before he passes out on the rug,” my mother says and I nod turning to go into the kitchen.

“No,” Justin says, his voice a low croak in his throat and I stop turning to him. “I’m fine,” he says forcing a smile at me. “I’m good.”

He clears his throat, swallowing hard and my father beams at him.

“See, he’s fine,” my father says and my mother shakes her head, handing me dishes and I take them, watching Justin blink hard and breathe through his nose and out his mouth slowly.

We’re back in the kitchen, setting the dishes on the counter when the phone rings. My mother wipes her hands on a dishtowel before going to pick up the extension that’s attached to the wall. I grab a glass and fill it with water, shuffling back into the dining room where my father and Justin are back to sitting at the table, Justin now in my seat still looking a little shell shocked. I move around the table, taking a sip from the glass as I do so and set it on the table at his elbow when I reach for one of the serving bowls on the table.

“I don’t need water, Sky,” Justin says, cutting his eyes at me. “I’m fine.”

“I know,” I say, nodding innocently at him. “That’s my water. You can’t have any.”

He smirks at me and I grin back. This doesn’t go unnoticed by my father who eyes us bemusedly.

“Jim?” my mother’s voice calls from the kitchen, her head peeking around the doorframe. “Phone for you.”

My father sighs, pulling himself up from his chair and ambling into the kitchen, both my parents disappearing into the room. I set the dishes in my hand back down on the table and walk back around the table, picking up the glass of water taking a small sip. Justin looks up at me and I grin, holding the glass out to him. He snatches it from me and downs it in one gulp, setting the glass down, his hand going to his chest as he swallows, a small derisive sound pulling from his throat. I bend down and kiss his ear, my arms snaking around his neck as I nuzzle his cheek gently.

“Feel better?” I ask and he cuts his eyes at me, glaring playfully.

“Shut up.”

“You’re a big strong man, Jus,” I giggle, nibbling at his earlobe and he tugs away from me, pouting slightly. “You sure showed him.”

“Yeah, I did,” he replies and his eyes turn dark as he looks at me. “I’m gonna show you, too… later.”

My jaw drops and he smirks at me, causing me to swat at his shoulder as my mother re-enters the room. She eyes us knowingly, reaching onto the table for the dishes and I duck my head, collecting silverware. Justin stands too, wobbling slightly but I don’t think my mother notices. He begins to gather dishes as well, politely ignoring my mother’s insistence that he stop. Between the three of us we gather the rest of the dishes in one trip, depositing them on the counter.

“Justin, go sit down,” my mother scolds and Justin just smiles at her.

“Now you just made me one of the best meals I’ve ever had. I’m not about to let you do the dishes,” he replies, a charming lilt in his voice that makes my mother blush. “You go on, now. Sky and I have got this,” he says, picking up a dish and turning to the sink and the matter is settled.

“…all right. Okay. Bye now,” my father finishes, and hangs up the phone with a sigh. I look back at him, as I scrub at a dish, Justin waiting patiently for me to finish so he can rinse it and put it in the dishwasher. “Justin, why don’t you come back into the den?”

Justin looks back at my father and then to me, a slightly unsure look on his face. My father grins and tilts his head backward in a beckoning gesture before disappearing back into the dining room. Justin dries his hands quickly before following, pausing to press a kiss to my cheek and then trotting after my father. I giggle slightly before turning back to the dishes. My mother sidles up next to me, taking Justin’s place, taking the dishes from me and rinsing them before putting them in the dishwasher.

“Who was on the phone?” I ask and my mother doesn’t respond right away, her mouth pressed into a line.

“Just Carl,” she responds after a moment and my stomach drops at the mention of my father’s boss.

“What did he want?” I ask, trying to sound unaffected.

“Oh you know,” my mother, says waving a hand before taking another plate from me. “The FDA may approve this new drug sometime soon.”

“Not this week though?” I ask, knowing what this would mean. “Dad has the week off.”

“Yes,” my mother says slowly, “He asked for this week off, but you know how these things are, Skylar.”

“He’s not leaving is he?” I ask, slight panic in my voice. He can’t leave. We have so much still to do. We’ve barely been here three hours and he’s already leaving.

“Well, he’ll certainly try not to,” my mother responds and I grit my teeth, not responding as anger wells inside me.

“All I asked for was one week,” I say, trying to keep my voice even but the bitterness is evident. “Just one week but he can’t even do that. I mean he’s barely met Justin-”

“Skylar,” my mother scolds and I quiet instantly. “He’s here. He’s trying. Don’t be mad at him for something that hasn’t even happened yet.”

“But it will happen,” I grumble, scrubbing viciously at a dish. “It always does.”

“Will you stop pouting,” my mother chides and I sigh. “We just made you a wonderful dinner and your father is doing everything in his power to run Justin off.” My mother chuckles. “I’d say things are going rather smoothly.”

I snort. “I can’t believe Dad fed him the moonshine.”

“I can’t believe he didn’t pass out on the carpet,” my mother replies and I nudge her with my elbow. “He’s precious, Skylar.”

I beam at her. “You like him?” I ask, even though I know she does. I just need to hear it.

“I adore him,” my mother grins, taking another plate from me. “He’s a charmer.”

I giggle. “Yeah, he is.”

“You never told me how you two got together,” my mother prods gently and I nearly drop the glass I’m washing.

“Oh…we... um…”

“Skylar what are you doing letting this woman do the dishes after the meal she just cooked,” it’s Justin’s voice from the doorway and we both turn to find him grinning as he saunters in.

“I was perilous to stop her,” I quip, sharing a smile with my mother as we both eye him.

“Vivian, I want you to go into the living room,” Justin says placing his hands on her shoulders and looking her sternly in the face. “and sit down and relax.”

My mother laughs and reaches for the towel to dry her hands. “Okay, okay.” She pats Justin’s cheek. “Such a sweet boy.” She makes her way to the doorway. “And handsome too,” she adds before disappearing down the hall. Justin dips his head in a blush.

“Your mom is great,” Justin grins, watching her leave. “I now see where you get it,” he adds, his arms slipping around my waist and hugging me back against him.

“Get what?” I grin, turning my head to try and see him better.

“Your ravishing good looks of course,” he whispers lowly, nibbling at my ear and I giggle at him.

“Oh stop,” I scold half-heartedly and he sighs, pulling his arms from around my waist and resuming his position next to me, rinsing the dishes I have washed.

“Your dad’s a trip,” he says, placing a bowl gingerly in the dishwasher.

“Oh god, what’d he do to you now?” I ask, grinning.

“Just you know…asking about my intentions,” he replies smirking and my heart stops.

“Oh my god, really?” I ask, looking at him horrified and he grins.

“Yeah,” he says, taking the last pan from me and slipping it into the dishwasher. “I just told him, you know, we have a pretty casual thing.” He nods trying to suppress his grin.

”Oh yes,” I say, the corners of my mouth turning up. “Very casual.”

“Yeah, I mean I tried to express how I’m just in it for the sex,” Justin sighs and I swat at his chest, bumping my hip with his to move him out of the way so I can start the dishwasher.

“Oh is that all?” I ask as I turn to face him, my arms crossed over my chest and he smirks, pushing me so that his hips trap mine against the counter.

“I dunno,” he sighs, licking his lips slowly. “What do you think?”

“I think you put up a big front,” I reply, my hands smoothing down his chest and back up again to rest on his broad shoulders.

“Is that so?” he asks, regarding me amusedly and I nod, one finger trailing down the middle of his chest, rubbing over the polo player embroidered on his breast pocket. “You think I…” his finger hooks under my chin, his eyes crashing into mine, “love you or some crazy mess like that?”

I grin at him nodding and he grins back, his mouth brushing mine before kissing me fully. His hands fall to my hips, squeezing gently as he presses me back harder into the counter and I push on his chest lightly, nervousness settling in my stomach at the fact that my parents are in the other room. He pulls back slightly, licking his lips.

“What you usually like it when I hoist you up on the counter,” he smirks and I blush, tracing a finger down his chest.

“My parents…” I whisper and he nods at me, still smirking.

“I guess you’ll just have to wait till later,” he grins and leans forward, his eyes mischievous as he whispers in my ear. “And there will definitely be a ‘later.’”

It’s cold as hell as I sit on the front porch swing, staring out onto the front yard. The sun is setting, casting everything in an orangey glow and it’s familiar. I’m home. My mother is inside cooking frantically, having just gotten the call that my father will be arriving home within the hour and Justin is upstairs on a business call. And I’m out here on the porch, under a thick blanket, waiting.

Today was one of those days where I can’t quite explain it but everything has changed. Taking Justin to the meadow and being with him there it was like a weight had been lifted from me. A weight that had been on me since I had talked to my mother a few days ago. I don’t need a man with a nine-to-five job anymore. I need Justin. I can’t explain it but for some reason that makes sense and it’s enough. He’s enough.

“Hey.”

I look over and see Justin standing tentatively in the doorway and I smile at him. He grins back, letting the screen door bang behind him as he steps out, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jacket, his breath coming in little white clouds.

“Whatcha doin?” he asks, standing next to the swing and following my gaze out over the lawn.

I tighten my arms around myself under my blanket. “Waiting.”

“Oh,” he says, nodding slowly and he seems nervous, awkward. I glance up at him perplexed. “Um…is this seat taken?” he jokes, smiling but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“No,” I say, scooting over a little and he settles in beside me, folding his hands in his lap and I regard him curiously for a moment before looking out over the lawn again.

“Viv said your dad’ll be home soon,” he says and I nod, smiling slightly to myself.

“What did your publicist want?” I ask and I hear him snort.

“Some promotional thing. I told her no,” he says dismissively and I nod.

We fall into silence then and I’m happy just to have him with me, to feel his body warm next to mine. I could stay like this forever, just he and I watching the sun set over my sleepy little subdivision.

“Are we okay?”

His voice is soft, gentle and my head snaps to him, finding him squinting out at the setting sun and I realize his body is tense next to mine. He won’t look at me.

“Yeah,” I say my hand slipping out from under the blanket to rest on his thigh, warm through the denim of his jeans.

“Are you sure?” he asks, squinting more and his face is contorted into a grimace as he shifts next to me. “Because…” he trails looking down at his lap and my brows knit turning on my hip to face him.

“What Justin?” I ask softly the hand on his thigh squeezing gently as my other reaches up to brush through the hair at his temple.

He tilts his head away and I blink startled by his aversion to my touch. Something’s bothering him. Bothering him enough to pull away from me and I frown as I let my hand rest lightly on his shoulder. He must sense my panic because one of his hands moves to mine on his thigh, picking it up and holding it in his, examining my fingernails.

“You’ve just been…” he pausing sighing as he runs his thumb over my fingernails and I give his hand a squeeze.

“What?” I prod gently and he sighs, releasing my hand and I feel my heart begin to race. I wish he would just tell me.

“I can’t…I can’t really explain it,” he says, looking at me for the first time and I can see he’s not angry at me, but scared and confused. My hand goes to his face and he winces I move to pull back but he reaches up to hold it there. “Your hands are cold.” He holds it in his hand and blows, his warm breath heating my frozen fingers momentarily.

“Justin,” I say and he sighs, letting our hands fall to his lap where he looks at them, his fingers tangling in mine as he takes another deep breath.

“When…when we were together…b-before…” he stutters and I tense next to him but give him a short nod of understanding. “You would…you would get this look on your face…every time you would tell me that…” he pauses his fingers tangling more tightly in mine and it almost hurts but the panic blooming in my chest hurts worse. “that we shouldn’t be together anymore,” he finishes in a rush and his face relaxes a little but his eyes are intense as he turns to me. “It was the look you had at breakfast the other day and then at the diner. It’s the look you had when I came out here.”

“Justin-”

“Is there something wrong?” he asks, his fingers curling more tightly around mine, wringing his hand in mine nervously and I have to pry my fingers from his to press a hand against his chest. “I mean if I did something-”

“No…” I say, shaking my head firmly. “No…it was just… this thing with my dad.” I sigh heavily and my breath comes out a little white cloud. “Him leaving just…just does something to me I don’t know…”

I let my voice trail, pulling back to look back out over the lawn again and my arms cross over my chest, shivering in the cold. Justin’s arm wraps tightly around my shoulders, pulling my body against him and I’m warmed instantly, smiling as he fusses with the blanket, trying to get it to cover more of my body, tucking it under my thighs and I love him. How could I have ever doubted it or let myself think that something like his job could change that. Even if it hurts me sometimes, even if it’s hard it’s just something we’ll have to deal with. Because I love him. And that’s just going to have to be enough.

I let my head fall to his shoulder, my arms wrapping around his torso and he settles next to me, pressing his face into my hair and inhaling deeply, before pressing a kiss to the top of my head and we watch the sun paint everything pink and gold. Nothing is more perfect than this moment.

“I’ll never leave you,” he whispers softly and I feel my body tense just slightly, “and I’ll stay if you ask me.”

“Oh Justin don’t,” I say, moving to sit up but he doesn’t let me, his arm still firmly around my shoulders.

“I promise,” he says, squeezing me. “If you need me I’m there. No matter where I am or what I’m doing, I’m on the next plane.”

“Don’t,” I say, tears pricking at my eyes, knowing this isn’t true. Knowing if he’s working he won’t come. I’m second. I’m content with second, but I won’t be if he promises me first and falls short of it. “Don’t.”

“Why?” he asks, his finger hooking under my chin, trying to get me to look at him. “Why not?”

“Because it’s not true,” I whisper and I wish it was darker so I can’t see his brows knit, can’t see the hurt in his eyes.

“Yes it is,” he says, his thumb stroking my chin softly. “I mean it.”

“What if you’re in the studio? In the middle of an interview? On stage?” I sigh and he presses his lips into a line. “It’s fine, Justin!” I say because it is. It has to be because this is how it is. “It’s how you should be. Just don’t promise me you will when you can’t.”

“But I will,” he says, his face grave and I shake my head but he holds my face steady. “You’re the most important thing in my life, Skylar.”

I laugh, trying to shake my head again but his grip is firm.

“I’m serious,” he says and his other hand comes up to smooth my hair back from my face as he adds quietly. “I’ve…I’ve thought about it.”

I eye him skeptically, not allowing my hopes to rise just yet. Not allowing myself to believe that he would put me first. Although he’s never lied to me. He’s never made a promise he hasn’t kept. But I know him. I know how much he loves the music, how he lets it take him where it leads and how a lot of times that’s far away from me. How he views it as a regrettable side effect but that doesn’t stop him from going. And I don’t begrudge him that. And that’s the difference. That’s what makes it tolerable. I don’t want him to stop. It’s too much a part of who he is, part of the man that I love. I love him too much to force him to let it go.

“Skylar,” he says softly and I shake my head. “No listen to me,” he says and his eyes are deep and earnest as his hands reach for mine under the blanket. “I love you. I’ve always loved you. I was willing to give it up for us then and I’m willing to do it now.”

“No,” I say firmly and he sighs. “Justin…I…I don’t want to change you,” I say my fingers squeezing his and I can tell he’s frustrated. “You don’t have to change for me.”

“But I will,” he says desperately and I sigh forcing out a laugh. He’s so intense sometimes.

“I’m glad you’re willing but I’m not going to do that to you,” I say. “I’m not giving you an ultimatum. I’ll deal with it.”

“But it hurts you,” he says, his voice earnest as his hand comes up to cup my face. “Don’t deny it Skylar it does.”

“It does,” I admit softly and his face crumples in guilt his hand falling from my cheek. I reach up to smudge my thumb along his cheek bone. “But it’s okay.”

“It’s not okay,” he growls forcefully and his eyes are hard in anger. “I want us to have a life together. I want us to…to…”

“Yes?” I ask my heart pounding and his ears redden shifting.

“I don’t know. You know how I get with all this…this…forever bullshit,” he mutters and I giggle reaching to run my fingers through his hair and he chuckles a little himself.

“I’m not asking you for anything Justin,” I say gently and his shoulders slump. “I can tell you want to. But I’m not going to ask you to quit something you love just because it’s hard on me. It’d be harder on me to see you miserable.”

He sighs, leaning back and then eyeing me skeptically. “You’re sure?” he asks, his eyes searching mine and I nod.

“Its different Justin,” I say and I glance around. “It’s different then this.” He nods looking down at his hands. I smirk. “Now if we decided to have kids-”

“Whoa!” he exclaims, like he always does when I say stuff like that. “Slow down there. I’ll jump off that bridge when we come to it.” I smack him with the back of my hand and he chuckles, throwing his arm back around my shoulders and I throw the blanket across his legs covering us both as I press my face into his neck.

“You’d quit your job at the museum if I asked you to right?” he asks and I smirk, feeling him shiver as I press my cold nose against his pulse point.

“No,” I say simply and I can practically feel him frown as he struggles to look down at me.

“What?” he asks his voice jumping an octave and I giggle, snuggling closer to him. “I’m willing to give up music, my passion,” he says pressing a hand to his heart dramatically, “and you can’t give up your nine-to-five.”

“Justin,” I say, resting my chin against his shoulder, my finger tracing down the zipper of his coat. “Can you imagine what I would be like if I didn’t work at the museum?” I watch his face contort as he tries. “Do you know what your life would be like if I couldn’t talk about art all day with colleagues and collectors?” His face blanches.

“I would never ask you to quit your job at the museum,” he says quickly and I grin, pecking his cheek softly.

“Exactly.” I sigh, resting my head against his shoulder again and he can’t help but smile, his arm tightening around me. “We’re okay, Justin.” I add softly and I feel him nod against me, his body finally relaxing completely.

It’s almost completely dark now, the street lamps turning on as a familiar car pulls onto our street. I watch as it creeps down the road, slowing as it turns into our driveway and I press my face to Justin’s neck, inhaling deeply before pulling back. I don’t jump up and run down the steps. I don’t fling myself at my father as he steps out of the car. What I do instead is wait, savoring the warmth of Justin’s body beside me as long as I can before I stand up and reach for his hand, happy that even though I still wait, I’m not alone anymore.

The End