"Sorry we're late! My roommate vomited as soon as we landed!"

"Kingston Maverick tell me you didn't just call my daughter your roommate—"

"Sorry, dad—"

"Kingston, don't be a spoon—" That was Everleigh. And, yeah, she sounded like she'd been ill. "—at least admit we were late in LA because you refused to shorten your shower."

"I have to listen to Purple Rain in it's entirety or it doesn't feel right, Everleigh—"

"Uncle Mav! Auntie Leigh!"

Navi, Raya, and Lyra were quick to tackle him in the front hall of Troy and Dawn's house. Didn't even give him a chance to react to their calling of his name before they buried him in hugs.

Troy and Dawn were calmer. Hugged the one they were actually related to first. Then again, they'd probably argue Maverick had been kicking around long enough that he counted as family, too.

"What were you doing in LA?" Florence asked as she and Roman joined the reunion in the front hall. (Either not noticing or electing to ignore that Everleigh and Maverick were actively giving their kids too much candy as they always did.) (Couple of shits.) "Thought you were in Ontario."

Maverick had already scooped Lyra into his arms while Raya and Navi hugged onto his leg and waist respectively. The smile that lit up his face was probably one of the many reasons Everleigh kept him around. "I actually died last night. In case you haven't seen the news."

"Kingston, you really need to give people more information."

Maverick looked like it was hard to speak with how wide he was smiling. "Well. We were always supposed to be in LA. I had a charity concert and auction that we were attending."

"Kingston—"

"ISangADuetWithEltonJohnAndCriedALot."

"You met Sir Elton bloody John and you didn't lead with that?" Dawn asked.

"What song?" Troy asked.

Maverick lip quivered despite his smile. "We closed out the night. It was Don't Let The Sun Go Down On Me."

"Elton calls him his little tea leaf."

"I thought that was cute until Everleigh told me that means thief here."

"He's joking."

"I know," Maverick said, smiling again. "It's kind of the coolest thing ever."

Maverick was still the only person who ever beat Elton John for an Academy Award. Might as well get a nickname from it along with the statue. Nobody else in the world got bragging rights like that, and Maverick didn't even brag.

"I thought you were retired," Troy said.

"Yeah," Florence said, "I thought Curtain Call was supposed to be the last one. Then you went and made the... other one."

"Resurgence," Roman and Everleigh corrected at the same time. Everleigh stared at him accusingly, Roman wouldn't meet her eye. She may only have been human, but sometimes it was like she could stare right into a soul if she made direct eye contact.

Maverick looked like there were a thousand things he wanted to say and yet nothing at all. "I had inspiration."

Roman's glance at Everleigh while everyone's attention was on Maverick told him she was aware she was the inspiration. A big stupid grin on her face had replaced the glare in his direction moments before. Florence used to look at him like that. Now she looked at him like she was exhausted.

"And wasn't your tour this year meant to be the farewell?" Troy asked.

"How do you know this much about Kingston's work schedule?" Everleigh laughed.

"Because he's my son, you twit."

"If Elton John asks you to sing with him," Maverick said, "it really doesn't matter whether you're retired or not, I think."

Troy tilted his head. "Fair."

"Are you actually retired now?" Florence asked. "Or is there a second-coming?"

"I think that it would have to take someone incredible to get me to come out of retirement," Maverick said. "Not many people can say their last live performance was with Elton John."

"Must be a hell of a person," Florence said. The girls were too busy moving from Maverick to Everleigh to notice anything else anyway. They buried her in hugs while the attention was on him. And for someone who didn't particularly like children, she gave each of them a tight squeeze.

Maverick smiled. "She is."

"Can I help you get anything out of the car?" Roman asked.

And there was that look again. Like Everleigh knew something that almost no one else in the room did. Because of course she did. Naturally, all Roman had to ask was if they needed help with luggage and she somehow magically figured out that something was wrong. She was a god damn genius and it pissed him off every single time she exhibited it.

"Yeah, can you grab Kingston's bags with me?"

"What—" Maverick started. (Last time Everleigh had left him alone with her parents, which was last Christmas, there was a heated debate about why they didn't live in London more than two months of the year.) (Maverick hadn't wanted to argue and had turned his cochlear implants off—that just seemed to make the debate involve a lot more hand movements so he couldn't avoid the argument after Everleigh had left the room in a rage.) (It resulted in Everleigh only wanting to spend two weeks in London which were, again, Christmas.) (There was also the fact they had their own home and there was no actual reason for her and Maverick to need their bags in her parent's house.)

"Goblins, your uncle's got more sweets in his jumper pockets. Find them."

That worked to free her from her nieces. It always did. And Maverick always had candy in his pockets when they visited. He never learned. Secretly, it seemed like he enjoyed being adored by them.

Roman looked at her, eyes wide.

"Thanks for the offer, Rome," Everleigh said.

Roman swallowed quietly. "Any time."

The front door had barely shut when Everleigh demanded her answers. "When did you and my sister break—"

Roman slapped a hand over her mouth like he was in a painfully unrealistic TV cop show and trying to chloroform her before he dragged her to the car. At least the bark of old man Dewey in the back seat would cover their discussion. "Not so loud."

Everleigh swatted his hand, though she did listen to him. She shout-whispered when she spoke again. "Clearly someone's got to tell my parents if you two turnips haven't."

"Leigh, it's more complicated than that."

"What could be more complicated than not telling them?"

"Florence asked me to help."

Everleigh searched his eyes. Read him like a book. "Oh, don't tell me she told you to fake it."

"I've never faked anything around her." What a confession.

Everleigh slapped a hand to her face. "We know. That's why you have three of those things."

"Leigh. Please. I'm asking you to not blow this."

"You need to tell them."

"That's something only Florence can do."

"Why are you putting yourself through this?"

Roman took a step back. Dewey barked louder. "Through what?"

"You're looking at her like she's the stars in the night's sky," Everleigh said, "and she's not looking at you at all."

"Is that really so different from how things used to be?"

"You really don't know how much she stared at you, do you?" Everleigh asked. "How often she would smile like some dumb lovestruck teenager any time you spoke? And, you've said some stupid shit, and I'm—you know—in love with Kingston Maverick."

"You're not helping."

"Do you really not know how much she loved you—"

"Everleigh, you're being mean."

"You've made it entirely too obvious, I'm surprised no one else has clocked you."

"Frankly, I'm glad someone else knows. This is..." Roman sighed. "This is killing me."

"What about your kids?"

"Now I know you feel bad for me, you're not even calling them goblins?"

"Only to their faces," Everleigh said, "Can't have them think I actually like them."

"Except you bring presents every time you visit."

"You're avoiding the question."

"We told them it's just a Christmas get together."

"That was Flo's idea, wasn't it?"

"It's not that bad."

"There's a reason you two always lose Trivial Pursuit," Everleigh said. "You don't think with your brains."

"We don't always lose."

Everleigh waved her hand dismissively. "That's not the point."

"Think you're being hyperbolic."

"Roman."

"At the very least, untruthful."

"You've beaten us once in nearly nine years."

"That means not always losing—"

"And it was because you shook the timer—"

"I did not—"

"You did, but that's not the point."

"I think it's exactly the point."

"Why the hell are you pretending you're still—"

"Are we okay out here?"

Troy was a porch dweller. Always had been—at least, for the 25 years Roman had known him. The first time Roman was introduced to him, they'd all had dinner at the Meadowlark's house. Roman had wanted to kiss Florence as they were leaving, Troy had opened the front door right as Roman leaned in. Excused himself for the interruption, walked out to water the plants. At nine at night. When he had already been out there watering them when Roman and Florence had arrived in the first place. It was how they'd met Maverick in the first place, too. Troy was always right behind the front door, ready and willing to cause panic.

"Leigh, please—" Roman was moments away from getting on his knees and clinging to her leg while he begged. Like his kids when they wanted a chocolate chip cookie. Kind of pathetic.

"You told me once I needed therapy—"

"I'm in therapy."

"That's somehow worse." Everleigh looked around the car. "Hi, Pa! We're fine!"

Roman blew out a loud breath. Everleigh elbowed him in the stomach. Gave him a very pointed look that clearly told him to shut the fuck up. When he hadn't even said anything. Nice.

"You sure?" Troy asked. "I can take the dog."

Everleigh rolled her eyes. Looked like she was damn close to closing her head in the trunk. Roman considered joining her.

"Yes," Everleigh said. "You can take Dewey."

"Thank you."

"Is that all you wanted?"

Troy shrugged and tore open the door, letting Dewey jump into his arms after patting his chest with his hands. (That was another reason Everleigh argued with Troy last Christmas—they had trained Dewey not to jump on people and Troy insisted it wasn't a big deal.) (It didn't take much to get Everleigh to put her dukes up.) "Maybe."

"He can walk," Everleigh said. "He has a leash."

Troy planted one too many continuous kisses to the top of Dewey's head and flashed a peace sign at his daughter. "Whatever, pisswizard. Leave me and my only grandson alone."

Everleigh sighed.

"That's a hint, Roman," Troy said. "We've given up on Everleigh."

Roman nearly whimpered at the idea. Guess the divorce and the vasectomy were off the discussion list at the last Meadowlark family AGM.

"Thank God, honestly. Crikey."

Troy made his way back inside since he had grabbed Dewey.

Everleigh gripped the edge of the trunk a little too hard as he walked away. Knuckles whiter than they usually were.

Roman frowned. "Are you okay?"

Everleigh grabbed a box from the trunk, red and green tissue paper sticking out the top, gently resting it against her hip. She'd made it some kind of strange tradition that the girls got their stockings from her and Maverick as soon as they landed. Even with Christmas only a few days away, she didn't like to make them wait. Another reason Everleigh was somehow the worst and best aunt they could've asked for. Roman didn't have the heart to tell them it was so that they would show Troy and Dawn all their new candy, and usually some stupid moose, beaver, or Canadian goose plushie and Everleigh didn't have to deal with them asking her when she and Maverick were going to get married or have kids.

Troy might've said he'd given up but he never did. And sometimes it felt like only Roman and Maverick noticed how much it irritated her. Even Florence talked to Roman, saying how she wished Everleigh would let Maverick propose. As if that was something he would want for them if it wasn't what she wanted.

(Maybe that argument had been one of the surely many reasons they were now ex-spouses.)

"I'm fine."

"That's always what people say when they're actually fine."

Everleigh swatted him in the stomach. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Does it have anything to do with the fact that you've seemingly been ill for almost a week?"

Everleigh wouldn't look at him. She always knew more than anyone else did.

Roman swatted her in the stomach for it and Everleigh nearly keeled over. Probably would've if he hadn't caught her shoulder. She winced. Everleigh never winced. He'd smacked her in the back of the head a 1000 times harder before and, by God, it hadn't phased her. The only time they'd ever had a problem with... well, with the way they were, was when Everleigh had accidentally swatted him in the arm when he had a Dexcom there early on after his diabetes diagnosis. (She had apologized profusely.) (Roman went to a CGM per physician recommendation after that.)

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Roman said, hands on her still, steadying. "Leigh?"

Everleigh looked like she was going to be sick again—she pressed a fist to her lips for a moment. Swallowed hard. Looked him in the eyes and silently pleaded for him to do something that got lost in translation. Never once had he never been able to decode one of those messages, but there was always a first for everything.

"What can I do?"

"I can't sit through happy family right now." Everleigh drew in an exhausted breath. "I just—I can't... and, God, Kingston—"

"Okay," Roman said, interrupting her before she could spiral. He gently pried the box for the girls from her arms and held it away from her when she tried to reach out again. "I'll think of something."

"You don't have to."

"Frankly, Leigh, I'm mad I didn't think about leaving," Roman said. "Today fuckin' sucks."

Everleigh managed a small smile. "Thank you."

"Now I know you're ill," Roman said. "You're being nice."

Everleigh swatted him again.

"Now you're more yourself." Roman closed the trunk.

"I hate you."

"I hate you too."

"Can we go Christmas shopping?"

"Are we leaving Mav here?"

Everleigh shrugged. "He has Dewey."

"Throwing him to the damn sharks, Leigh."

"Well. Yeah. Mum likes him more than she likes me and I came out of her. He deserves it for being... him."

"Brutal." Roman shook his head.

"At least I would never divorce him and then force him to play pretend."

"Firstly," Roman said, "You can't divorce him. Because you're not married."

Everleigh's eyes widened slightly. "Canadian common law, then. I guess. Whatever. Same difference."

"Secondly," Roman said. "Ouch."

Everleigh rolled her eyes. "Your secret's safe with me, you fiddlehead. But I still think you should tell them."

"I've already had this conversation with my Meadowlark."

"Steady on," Everleigh said. "Into the fire."

*

As it turned out, the girls wanted to come with them. Which meant that grumpy old fart ass auntie Leigh wanted to be the cool aunt—even when she was the only aunt they had. That was how Roman ended up in a god damn Build a Bear too close to Christmas with Everleigh spending his money on her nieces. Nobel laureate was pretty great at convincing the girls they "have to get an outfit for your Father Christmas bear, Nav, it's important that he's ready to deliver gifts."

Everleigh was a shithead but the girls looked happy and that's what mattered. At least she paid for the bear she built for Maverick. (She saw a sparkly pink microphone and sprinted across the store, practically bulldozed a toddler, and had a moose stuffed before Roman could tell her to slow the fuck down because they had all the time in the world.) (She'd somehow convinced the poor worker that it was totally fine if she recorded fuck you on one of the electronic hearts because "my boyfriend's going deaf, I just need this one thing recorded, please.") (The sad thing was, Maverick would probably love it.)

It wasn't until Roman was paying that Everleigh told him she was stepping outside the store.

It wasn't until after Roman had paid and walked out with the girls that he realized she'd left because she was about to be sick. Again. (Roman had texted Florence immediately, asking if she could watch the girls because he had errands to run with Everleigh.) (Florence said Maverick had happily volunteered to give her the day off to Christmas shop, which meant the girls were having homemade cupcakes for dinner and there wasn't a damn thing anyone could do about it.) (Even worse, they'd probably destroy Maverick and Everleigh's place, and Roman would hear about it later.)

It wasn't until after Roman had dropped the girls off, Maverick had asked Everleigh if she was okay, she'd said she was fine, Maverick had frowned at her before Roman silently promised him that he'd deal with it, and Roman had driven to the nearest Co-Op, walked in by himself to grab a couple things, and come back that Everleigh finally admitted she wasn't, in fact, fine. Shocking. Revolutionary. Never been realized before.

That subsequently meant that Roman couldn't go throw the contents of his grocery bag because Everleigh broke down into tears and hugging her seemed a thousand times more important than anything else at that moment.

"Don't be mad when I ask you this," Roman said, finally, once Everleigh had pulled away.

Everleigh swallowed hard, ran her thumbs under her eyes. "I'll do my best."

Roman bit his lip. "Does that mean there's still a chance of you smacking me?"

"Always." Everleigh laughed weakly.

"Leigh," Roman said, digging into the bag, held the box but didn't pull it out. "When did you start getting sick?"

"Roman, I have a PhD in nursing practice and a Nobel Prize, you don't have to—"

"More than a month?"

Everleigh sighed. "Almost a month."

"If you hit me when I ask this, I'm not helping you anymore."

Everleigh rolled her eyes and knit her fingers together.

"No," Roman said. "Sit on them."

"What the hell are you asking me—"

"Sit on them."

"Fine." Everleigh shuffled in her seat, shoving her hands under her thighs. "What?"

"Have you taken one of these?"

The box Roman pulled out wasn't unfamiliar territory for him. With work especially, he had to buy them to have in his office before he ever had to buy them for Florence. There were even a couple of times in high school he'd needed to go buy one for now-ex-girlfriends only to have a false alarm revealed. (It was worth the price.) (He never asked for a cent back.)

But, it still felt different with Everleigh. Closer to the high school girlfriends, but still not quite the same. Roman had known Everleigh for a long time—and in that time, gotten to know her adamant stances on many things, including the fact she did not, ever, want to have children.

Holding a box of pregnancy tests in front of her felt like telling her someone had died.

Everleigh sniffled, sat still. Stared at the box before she looked away. "I know I should've..."

"Don't," Roman said. "I'm not asking so you can beat yourself up, I'm asking so I know where you're at."

"I've been avoiding it," Everleigh said. "Think I already know the answer."

"Do you want to go to your place or mine?"

"Roman." Everleigh wrinkled her nose.

Roman bopped her in the head with the box of pregnancy tests. "For the test, you idiot."

"You still need to work on your phrasing."

"You think after over 20 years—"

"Oh, God, do not remind me."

"—I'd choose right this second to say I wanted to sleep with you?" Roman asked. "Disgusting. I hate you."

"No, you don't."

Roman started the car. "We're going to yours. Pee in your own damn cup."

"That was romantic," Everleigh said. Like the little shit she was.

"Oh, now she's feeling better." Roman tossed a hand in the air.

"Thank you," Everleigh said, "for buying tests."

Roman rolled his eyes and tossed the bag at her before pulling out of the stall. "There's chocolate in there too, but I swear to God, if you eat all of that Terry's chocolate orange without giving me some while I'm driving, I'm ending our friendship."

Everleigh opened the box promptly and smacked the chocolate orange on the dashboard, causing Roman to nearly leap out of his skin.

"Jesus Christ," Roman said, "what the hell are you doing?"

"Opening the fucking orange, Rome—"

"With the airbag?"

"Did you want me to use your head—"

"Everleigh—"

"It's thick enough—"

"I hate you," Roman said. "Honest to God."

Everleigh opened the wrapper of the orange and popped a slice into Roman's mouth while his jaw hung open.

Roman chewed. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"I hope you washed your hands."

"I hope you choke."

*

When Florence and Roman had decided they wanted kids, waiting for two positive pregnancy tests was exciting—they did at least two because they wanted to make sure there wasn't a false positive. On the days where there weren't any positives, there were bad days. Florence cried a lot, Roman did a lot of listening, a lot of buying tests, and a lot of recommending that Florence see a counsellor because he clearly wasn't helping her when she blamed him some days. (She was in distress, it wasn't personal.) (She always apologized after; when she'd calmed down.)

It was the opposite with Everleigh. Waiting for those last few minutes to pass, a pin could drop and it would sound deafening. Everleigh sat on the covered toilet, head in her hands. Roman leaned against the sink, arms crossed. Waiting for his phone alarm to go off beside the cup she'd placed her test in. Roman ignored that Everleigh was crying, Everleigh pretended it wasn't happening.

Tapping two fingers on his forearm, he tried to fight the urge to whistle. Or click his tongue. Anything to pass the time. The last thing he needed was to piss her off while she was on the brink of a panic attack.

It was strange, sitting in Everleigh and Maverick's bathroom. He'd never really considered decorating his, spare tissues on the counter in case of crying—the bathroom was always a good spot for doing that. But Maverick and Everleigh made every room in their place feel lived in, feel occupied. There was eucalyptus tied to the shower head, pressed flowers hung on the walls. Maverick kept music in every room, so it wasn't shocking there was a Bluetooth speaker that sat on the back of the toilet, ready for anyone to connect for a shower concert.

The phone alarm made Everleigh jump. Roman shut it off quickly.

"Do you want me to look at it, or do you want to look at it?"

"I want you to throw it out the window."

"Probably not going to help."

"Will you hate me if I ask you to look at it?" Everleigh pressed her palms into her eyes.

"I've done this a couple times with another Meadowlark, you know," Roman said. "It's up to you."

"Please."

Roman pushed off the sink. Took a breath while picking up the tests, checking the box for how it would appear. If nothing, to stall for time. "I have good news and I have bad news."

Everleigh practically whimpered. "What's the good news?"

"Abortion's legal here and I know a great doctor. She'd probably let you in soon since you're in healthcare and she always keeps emergency slots open."

"Okay." Everleigh sniffled loudly.

"... Do you need me to say the bad news?"

She shook her head. Stood up. Walked the couple steps to where Roman was and buried him in a hug. "Thank you."

Roman hugged her back. "Do you want to see for yourself?"

"Not at all."

"Okay." Roman tucked the capped tests into his back pocket before quickly replacing his arm around Everleigh.

Roman once read while planning a trip to Disneyland—one that was subsequently cancelled when he was handed divorce papers—that the actors who were friends with characters were taught to never let go of a child who wanted to hug them, because they could never know how much that child needed that hug.

It was kind of like that with Everleigh. No, she wasn't a child. But whenever she hugged him? It was a last resort. It was the cheap motel on a road trip that people only stopped at because they were too exhausted to drive anymore, and they needed a bed and a roof for the night. Everleigh only hugged people who weren't Kingston Maverick when she was at a loss for anything else she could do. When she really needed a second to breathe and desperately needed comfort from someone else.

"Leigh."

"Mhmm?" (The shoulder of Roman's shirt was already soaking. A sponge for the tears she hadn't wanted to admit she'd shed and for all the ones she was okay with letting him know.)

"Do you want me to call?"

"Can you?" Everleigh squeezed him a little tighter. Like she was wincing with her arms at her own fear of the phone call.

"For someone who's studied the inside of her boyfriend's ear through and through," Roman teased, "you sure are squeamish about a phone call."

"Mhmm." Not even a comeback. Usually one was on the tip of her tongue before he'd even finished his sentence.

Roman hugged her a little tighter. "It'll work out."

"Thank you."

"I'll drive you."

"You don't have to."

"Maverick will fawn all over you," Roman said. "Not a moment of peace."

Everleigh laughed. "That's true."

"I'll push you in the nearest snow pile the moment you're out of the clinic. Just so you know."

"Perfect."

"Leigh."

"Yes?"

Roman's hand made a few slow circles between her shoulder blades. "I know you probably know this, but it's quite literally one of the safest medical procedures that can be done. You're going to be fine."

Everleigh pulled away and wiped under her eyes. "Jesus."

"I don't have to text her if you've magically decided you want kids."

Everleigh looked like she wanted to puke at the suggestion. "Absolutely the fuck not."

Roman laughed. "Mini Maverick's would be hard to take care of."

"Children get most of their DNA from their mother."

"Even worse."

"Shut the fuck up." Everleigh laughed.

"I'll call," Roman said. "No Meadowlark-Maverick crotch goblins for you."

"Roman, can I tell you something—"

"Not right now."

"Why not?"

Roman looked her in the eye. "Because you're clearly stressed and I don't think you're in the right mind to be confessing things to me right now."

"You're stupid when you're right,you know that?"