"Coming up next on Today, pop superstar Justin Timberlake stops by the studio to perform his latest single..."

The flat screen TV beeped and went black as Josh snapped it off, tossing the remote to the center of the glass coffee table. He winced as it bounced on the pane with a clatter, then sat up and looked around before relaxing again against the worn fabric of the futon. One of these days he was going to break that table and his wife would give him that look. The one he was kind of afraid of.

Every morning was a little bit of déjà vu-they always started the same way. He needed a little peace and quiet, some space, some time to wake up before jumping into the day. His ritual was to come downstairs--still in pajamas-- have some coffee, read the paper, watch the news. Celeste preferred to wrangle the kids on her own, if he would take over once they were dressed so she could dress in peace and have time to herself.

So he had come downstairs, where the sunlight spilled in between the vertical blinds off of the patio throughout most of the first floor- the open kitchen, the dining room with the large, oval eight person table that was actually full from time to time, the living room with the comfortable furniture that looked like it had been beaten down by tiny feet (because it had) and the indulgent flat panel TV that boasted about yet another pop superstar, living his dream.

His dream.

A familiar sound caught his ear. It was faint, but he heard it. His eyes traveled upward toward the ceiling, as if he could see through it. His son Jack had a new obsession, and that was jumping. Everywhere. All the time. He was jumping now, landing heavily on the hardwood floors, reciting something over and over, the way three year olds do for no reason at all. Just a few decibels under Jack, a soft voice called for him. How he heard it, he had no idea, but he did. He always did.

Josh shot out of the chair and padded up the stairs and around the bend. Matilda picked the color of her room-pink-which looked like a fairy tale had thrown up in it. Unicorns and Prince Charming and Princesses in pink flowing gowns and crowns that sparkled adorned the room. He had wanted his daughter to dream for herself past Beauty and the Beast, past living like a princess and waiting for some magical guy to come rescue you from your life, but he lost the battle when it came to her room.

Disney. Ever since he tanked that audition way back when, seeing anything Disney oriented was like being taunted everyday of his life, and now he had to look at it, every morning and every night and every time he walked by his daughter's room. It was hard to say no, though, when it was all she wanted. He'd long ago admitted defeat, but still felt a pang every time he crossed that threshold.

"What's up, buttercup?" He leaned against the doorjamb and smiled down at the six year old,  a copy of her mother with big, round hazel eyes and long, dark hair, fair skinned and soft spoken. She had a sweet smile full of missing teeth that melted his heart. Today, her face was painted with a frown, her cherry red lips in a dramatic downturn that made him laugh on the inside. Not on the outside. Never laugh at Till when she's upset.

"I want to wear a ponytail but mommy didn't do it right." Her poor little voice sounded so sad as she looked up at him, tears pooling in her eyes. "Fix it?"

"Please?"

"Please."

She handed him the ‘hair pretty'- her word for the colorful barrettes and ribbons and things that went in her hair. He'd never understand it all. Women weren't to be understood. Just loved.

Josh sat on the bed and moved Till in front of him, undid the perfectly fine ponytail and repositioned it. She liked it high and off to the side, so her hair fell over her shoulder. He shook his head-his daughter was already a sophisticate. She would want an updo when she was 8. He supposed he'd better learn how to do an updo.

"Oh you're fixing it? Good."

Celeste brushed by him to lay Till's jacket and backpack next to him, a faint whiff of her perfume tickling his nose. He tracked her figure out of the corner of his eye, looking delightfully tantalizing in her designer suit.

They'd met ten years earlier in the Architecture program through the University of Central Florida. She took a seat next to him in Landscaping on the first day of class. He hadn't let her out of his sight since then. He asked her out every day until she said yes. A year later they were engaged, and a year after that, they were married and after graduation, both found work at design firms. And then Matilda came along. Life just seemed to roll forward without effort. Celeste made it easy-enjoyable, even. If he'd met her today, he'd still not let her out of his sight until she agreed to go out with him.

"I think she just likes it when daddy does it."  Celeste winked and dropped a light kiss on his forehead, and then on Till's. "She whined the entire time I was doing it."

With a smirk, she headed across the hall, and seconds later, shrieks of laughter came from Jack's room. The Tickle Game was the only way Jack was getting dressed these days. You did what you had to do, to get the kid out of the house.

"Okay, sweetie." He gave her a pat on the back to signal he was done. She ran to the floor length mirror to check out his handiwork. There was an extra little thump in his heart when she turned back to give him a gap toothed grin and said,"Thanks, daddy."

"You're welcome. Go on downstairs. I'll get some breakfast for you." Matilda happily bounced out of the room and down the stairs. Josh followed, picking up her jacket and pink The Little Mermaid backpack. More Disney.

"Honey, I have Till's stuff!" he called behind him. Celeste answered that Jack was on his way.

There was nothing quite like the sound of kid voices babbling at the breakfast table. Josh rather enjoyed it. He sipped coffee and chewed on toast and watched Jack and Till scarf down a nutritious breakfast of eggs, toast, turkey bacon-- no sugared cereals for his kids-and listened to them talk about what dreams they had and their plans for the day. Kids had such important lives, so many things they had to do. People to see, places to go. He was amused by it all. If they only knew what busy really was.

Celeste rushed down the stairs, her hair in perfect waves framing her oval face, light makeup accentuating hazel eyes and fair tone, dazzling diamonds in her ears, stylish watch at her wrist. She looked every part the Young Executive and he was proud of her. She'd be a partner at the firm before she was 35. At least, she hoped to be one.

Celeste smiled brightly at him and tilted her head, letting him know she'd noticed his lingering stare. "Hi," she mouthed, filling her travel mug with coffee. He nodded and shot her half a grin, thinking he couldn't wait until she got home, later.

"Till honey, hurry. We'll be late."

Dropping Matilda at the small private school she attended was Celeste's job every morning, unless she was out of town. She was leaving anyway, and it was on her way to the office. Josh would take Jack to preschool at 9, work from home as usual, and pick them both up at 3. They had the routine down pat and the kids seemed ‘off' when it wasn't followed.

He kissed his girls goodbye, and then he and Jack stood at the garage door like always and watched Celeste back her car out of the driveway, Matilda strapped in the booster seat behind her. They waved, and Till waved, and then they closed the door.

And the world belonged to Jack.

His son made him laugh like no one else, rambunctious and loud and every inch a boy. If Matilda was the image of her mother, Jack was like looking into a mirror. A mop of thick, dark, curly hair topped his long, thin head. He had his father's blue eyes and a wide smile that made those eyes crinkle at the sides. Energetic and playful, Jack was almost always making noise. Singing or chanting or yelling or talking. He was outgoing, like Celeste. Matilda was quiet, like him.

"Hey buddy, let's go upstairs. Daddy needs to get some clothes on."

He led Jack up the stairs to the master bedroom, picked him up, tossed him playfully to the middle of the large bed and pointed the remote at TV mounted on the opposite wall. Jack sat criss-cross on the bed, already engrossed in Dora the Explorer.

"Tell me some Spanish when I come, out, ‘kay buddy? Don't go anywhere, I'll be right out."

"Vamos!" Jack yelled.

Josh chuckled, wondering if the boy was capable of being quiet, ever. "I'll be right back."

Showering was best done quickly if the kids were awake, especially Jack. He was easily bored, and though he always promised to not go anywhere, he didn't always keep that promise. Josh scrubbed as quickly as possible and hopped back out of the shower, relieved to hear Jack yelling random words and phrases in Spanish behind the closed doors. He toweled off, ducked into the walk-in closet and slipped into a pair of boxer briefs, jeans and a t-shirt-his usual uniform.

"Ready to go school, buddy? Let's go!"

He slid his feet into a pair of camel colored leather slip ons, tucked his wallet into his back pocket and picked up his keys. Jack scrambled off of the bed and ran to his bedroom to pick up his jacket and Tonka Toys backpack, and then bounded down the stairs. Then it was out to the garage, strapped into the car seat and on the way to school.

Josh worked every day from 10 am to 2:30. The corporate world of architecture was fine, and maybe someday he'd return to it. If he ever got tired of being his own boss and managing his own schedule and having the freedom to see his kids off every morning, pick them up every afternoon and play with them. If he ever thought he'd like to be stressed and pushed and shoved by bosses and deadlines and meetings and politics, instead of being calm and serene have the energy to be a good partner to Celeste-then maybe he'd return to the corporate world. It wasn't likely he'd be back anytime soon.

By the time he sat at his drafting table it was a few minutes after 10. The plans for the new Performing Arts Center were coming together nicely. His affinity for the Arts and his musical ear won him the contract and he was enjoying putting the building together. Today he'd work on the second level-- measuring, drawing, erasing, creating. The shape of the interior was important to the acoustics-the sound had travel along the walls, not be absorbed into them. The light had to brighten and illuminate but not overshadow the act on stage. The exterior had to be modern and New Age but still classic enough to attract seasoned theater patrons. And the entire project had to squeeze into a budget with little wiggle room. These were the challenges that filled his days and sometimes his nights. When he couldn't sleep, he'd come in this room, turn on the lamp, stare at the plans, pray for an epiphany.

Less often, he'd wander into the formal sitting room and sit at the baby grand. He wouldn't play, just stare at it. Run his fingers along the glossy wood. Finger the ivory keys. The melodies of unwritten songs, unsung harmonies circled him constantly, like ghosts of a former time. A former dream. A ridiculous dream, of making it big and being a superstar.

He'd always been told he had a great voice, people used to love to hear him sing. He gave it up though, after that audition. The one he should have aced, but instead was too shy to even get a word, a note, a syllable out of his mouth. He'd been embarrassed and ashamed and rarely talked about it, but he still relived it, over and over again in his mind. It was coming out in his dreams-had been for quite awhile.

His mom had tried to talk him into trying again but he'd psyched himself out. Told himself he had no skill or talent for music and never would, so give it up. Go back to whatever he wanted to do before he stood in that line at the audition dreaming of a life in show business. His talent was in the room with the drafting table. His future, his livelihood, how he put food on the table was part of the new school building across town, or the Kroger redesign or the new shopping plaza in Winter Park. That was his life. No time for make believe and wishing things had turned out differently for him.

He'd have never met Celeste and would have never been blessed with a full (albeit loud) life with two kids and a nice home, his own business, a comfortable living, had he followed that dream. No telling where he would be-maybe some washed up middle aged former musician living off of Sunset strip in a dirty studio apartment. Or worse, if he went for it and never really made an impact and had to fade into obscurity, again? Humiliating!

It was a scary thought, but one that crept back into his mind on an almost daily basis. He hadn't been able to get it to go away.

Josh worked steadily, watching the clock. Stopping briefly for lunch, then a phone call, and then back to work until 2:30 on the dot, when he snapped off the light, set down his drafting pencil and picked up his keys. He looked forward to the time spent alone with his kids, before Celeste rolled in a little after 5 and the full life of family took over.

The preschool smelled of fresh paint and French fries, a sort of sickening scent that faded as Josh walked down the hall. He was a little early, so he'd surprise Jack, and watch the smile crawl across his face when he looked up to see his dad there. Josh almost sped his steps at the thought, because he loved that smile. Jack would probably yell loud and run to him, which were against the rules but hey-- his kid was happy to see him. Rules, schmules. Ms. Menke wasn't likely to say anything to him about it. She'd be too busy flirting.

It was kind of a problem, with Jack's teachers and with Matilda's too. And with clerks at the grocery store and at Blockbuster and sometimes at church, when they went. He didn't get it-he wore a wedding band. Every day. Never took it off. Wasn't much of a flirter. Was pretty quiet most of the time. Yet it seemed like he couldn't divert attention from himself. That was another reason he was happy to work at home. The definition of uncomfortable was a client or support staffer surreptitiously unbuttoning an extra button, hiking up a skirt, winking, nudging, standing much too close, becoming way too interested in anything that involved him. He felt like meat. A rump roast, to be exact. Celeste, thank God, just laughed at it. Found it really, very amusing.

Jack's classroom buzzed with activity as he stepped inside, quietly, so as not to make a scene. He stood at the door, and didn't move for a moment, his eyes scanning the room for that familiar mop of dark hair. He heard Jack before he saw him, his voice always ringing out above everyone else's.

"Hello, Mr. Chasez." A feminine voice cooed behind him. Startled, he turned to find Ms. Menke standing uncomfortably close, staring up at him, all bedroom eyes and lowered voice. He gulped, and took a step back.

"Ms. Menke. Uhm... hi. Hi," he stuttered. "I-I know I'm early, I came for Jack." She stared up at him, blinked slowly, gave him a smile that would have turned him on if he was single. Since he wasn't, he felt a little sick. And a little warm. "I can wait, if you're in the middle of something."

She blinked rapidly, once or twice, which he guessed was supposed to be her batting her eyes. "We're just finishing up. Feel free to have a seat for a few minutes." She backed away from him, nearly tripping over a little girl and he made his way to the back of the room to wait.

Josh watched the end of the day routine with limited interest. It seemed like Ms. Menke was dragging things out so he would stay, and that was annoying. He had to pick up Matilda and at the rate she was going, he'd be late. He stood, getting antsy. She took the hint and nodded that he could go ahead and sign Jack out.

"Daddy!"

His heart skipped a beat at the sound of Jack behind him. He often thought of the day he met Celeste, and stared at her so hard she blushed beet red and almost moved seats. He didn't tell her until after they were engaged that he'd stared so hard because he could see having kids with her. He could hear them. They sounded like Jack, and Matilda-- he would swear that forever. That sound, that high pitched, yelling voice was the stuff his dreams were made of. He grinned as he set the pen down and grabbed the jacket and backpack from over the counter.

"Hey, buddy! How was your day?" It was a question that was bound to have a long answer-- it always did-- so Josh picked him up and carried him out as he babbled about every single thing he'd done that day. This was their daily routine. This was what he'd have given up, had he gone after the whole... singing thing.

It seemed a ridiculous prospect, while his son was babbling in his ear and the weather was nice and it had been such a good, productive day. But still... sometimes he wished he could have gone for it. Not that he'd want to give up this life, but it would have been nice if Jack could have come to see his dad sing, instead of crawl around the legs of the drafting table and ‘watch daddy draw buildings'.

Josh tucked the still babbling child into his car seat and snapped him in, then jumped into the driver's seat himself. Just a few miles down the road was the small grouping of grey stone buildings that made up the private K-12 school where Matilda was waiting to be picked up. He sat in the entry line for a few minutes, and then he was able to pull up in front of her building.

"Hi, Mr. Chasez!"  Bethany, the classroom aide, waved and smiled at him as she escorted Till to the car. "I'll buckle her in if you want, you don't have to get out."

"Thanks honey. Appreciate that," he said, halfway turned around while Bethany guided Till into the seat and buckled her in. Tousling her hair a bit, she ducked out of the car, and closed the door, then stepped back and waved. Bethany was a good egg. If he'd had to get out of the car, no doubt he'd have been surrounded by the teachers that ‘just wanted to say hi'. Right.

"Hi, sweetie," he said, turning around so he could pull away from the curb, but catching her eyes in the rearview mirror. "I'm happy to see you. How was today?"

It was Matilda's turn, then, to ramble about the very important events of her day. Her spelling test, and her reading assignment, and who she sat with at lunch, and what boy had said something to her about her ponytail, and how she shouted at him, ‘my daddy did my hair so shut up!' and stomped away. At least she knew how to stand up for herself.

It was straight home for a snack usually, since they'd be hungry. He eased the car into the garage and unbuckled Till and then Jack-because Jack would run off if you unbuckled him first-and let them into the house.

"Let's put away jackets and backpacks, take off our shoes, and then come have a snack." He didn't really need to say it, it was the same thing every day, but it seemed like they wouldn't do it unless he said it, so he did. He sliced apples and chunked cheese and set out crackers and glasses of milk for them and set places at the table, then sat with them. No TV during meals was the rule (though sometimes grandpa let them) so they talked more and he listened. And laughed. Kids were funny.

Josh couldn't really cook, past breakfast food and random things. He tried but it just didn't turn out well. If he was in charge of dinner, it was takeout or delivery. Celeste just knew that when she came home, she'd have to start dinner, so that's what she was doing at 5:30.

"Did Ms. Menke give you the eyes, today?" Celeste liked to tease him, to watch the blush crawl up his neck to his hair line. She kept one eye on him, and one eye on the steaming pot she held as she drained pasta into a colander, then spread it along the bottom of a casserole dish.

"She's so... inappropriate. I should say something, probably. I mean, I would but she's Jack's teacher and..."  He shrugged, letting his voice trail of. He'd never really say anything, anyway.

"Oh, honey. It's just some flirting. You can't help that you're hot."

He leaned against the center island counter and watched her spread a layer of chicken, and then a layer of tomato sauce, and then a layer of shredded cheese in the dish and slid the container into the oven. She glanced back at him while she washed her hands.

"Are you really bothered by it, or is that wrinkle in your forehead for my benefit? Because you know I don't care."

Josh kept one eye on the living room, where Till and Jack sat next to each other on the floor, watching a cartoon. "No, he said, shaking his head. "She really creeps me out. She like, snuck behind me, today. She could have grabbed my ass."

He caught Celeste's light laughter and laughed with her, then checked the living room once again. Both sets of eyes were glued to the TV-even Jack was quiet. He eased around the island and stepped behind Celeste, close to her, ran his hands down her sides and around her waist. She leaned back against him and angled her head, presenting her neck, which he took full advantage of, laying soft kisses down and back up, toward her cheek, nibbling on her ear. She closed her eyes and sighed, then laughed again.

He leaned closer to whisper in her ear. "What are you laughing at?"

"I'm remembering life before we had kids, when we could have sex in the kitchen and never did. And now that we have kids and can't, we seem to always be the kitchen when the mood--"

"Daddy, the cartoon is over can I please have some juice I'm hungry mommy!"

Jack careened into the kitchen and wiggled between them, wrapping his arms around Celeste's legs. She shot an apologetic glance at her husband and he stepped back, turned around and blew out a breath, adjusting himself.

"Dinner will be ready in a little bit. You can have juice, then. Do you want to go upstairs and play?"

"Yeah!" She laughed at his high energy, set the timer on the oven, picked him up and carted him upstairs.

The rule was that whoever cooked didn't have to clean, but they did have to give baths. Since Celeste most often cooked, she most often gave baths. Josh was feeling a little... interested... so they tag teamed the kitchen and the baths and the tooth brushing and the bedtime stories and the night time routine. Matilda and Jack were in bed in record time and Josh all but picked her up and carried her to the bedroom. He'd been thinking about her, about this moment, about having this time with her all day, most especially since right before dinner.

"Have I ever told you," she said, watching him unbutton her blouse, his hands shaking so badly he nearly ripped the delicate fabric. "That you are the world's best dad? There's nothing sexier to me than watching you read stories to your babies."

He'd reached the last button, finally, and practically tore the blouse off of her. Warm lips landed on warm, soft skin. He laughed lightly, mumbled against her. "I'll get ‘em back up and read to ‘em again, if it'll help."

"Don't even think about it." She reached behind her to unzip her skirt, letting it slide down her long legs and fall around her. Panties and bra followed, followed by his clothes on top, left in a random pile in the middle of the bedroom as they crawled into bed, one behind the other.

He groaned softly, breathing heavily in her ear, biting lightly at her skin. She arched her body up to him and he moved easily inside her, a satisfied sigh rushing through him, then striking a steady rhythm. Celeste did her best to stay quiet-Jack would be curious, and though the door was locked, his constant pounding was a mood killer.

Josh wasn't the only one who had been looking forward to a little alone time. It wasn't long before Celeste was heaving deep breaths and clutching him tightly and whispering "yes, yes, oh my God, yes," into his ear. The sounds and sensation of her reaching her peak always took him over, no matter where he was in the process.

"Shit," he whispered, panting, sweating, grinning as he laid back against the pillows.

"Exactly," she agreed, catching her breath, "Okay, maybe we can't have sex in the kitchen, but it's way hotter now than it was, back then."

"Mmmm..." He growled and nipped at a nipple, still erect and puffy and just... tempting. "A shower with me, Mrs. Chasez?"

"Why, Mr. Chasez, I'd love to." The pair giggled as they stumbled toward the bathroom, shushing each other so they wouldn't wake the kids.

He awoke with a start, the room pitch black. He glanced at the clock radio, blinking at the amber numbers. 3:54 am.

"You okay?" Celeste's sleepy voice broke his trance as she sat up and snapped on the side lamp. "Did you have the dream again?

He wouldn't call it recurring. The dream. Recurring wasn't quite the word for this constant companion, night after night, year after year. It had never left, just grew progressively more real over the years, until he had to force himself to wake up before it got too deep. He wiped at his face, a sheen of sweat coating it, and breathed deeply. Calming. He was fine.

"I'm okay. It's okay. Go back to sleep. Turn that off."

When the room was dark again, and Celeste had snuggled against him again, and her breathing had become slow and steady and deep again, he stared at the ceiling and willed his heart to stop beating out of control. It was just a dream. It wasn't real. It just felt real.

He was on a stage. In the middle of a giant stage, like a stadium stage. He was aware of a band, a full band, playing some song that seemed familiar, but he didn't know the words and couldn't place the tune. A wave of energy rushed toward him from the enormous crowd, and he could almost sense the vibration of the music under his feet.

It felt real to him but he had to make himself wake up, because... well, because he was afraid. Afraid that he'd prefer the dream to his real life, and start to regret not going after it, and not be thankful for the life he had.

Which he was, incredibly so. Josh loved his wife. He loved his children. He loved his job. He just needed to shake this nagging, lingering, dogged dream. He just didn't know how. And, he was ashamed to admit it, but he wasn't really ready to let it go, quite yet.