It's been a long time since I've shown compassion to a biological parent. Maybe it's because I've been in the child welfare system for so long that it's given me a warped perception of the people I get into custody battles with.  While I hate to say it, ninety percent of them are losers who will never change their ways. It took me all of five minutes after I dropped Jason off to realize that he wasn't the washed-up loser I'd made him out to be.  Something hit me hard while watching him play with his daughter.  

There was something about Jason Houser that stuck with me.  It was something I liked.  Those feelings made me want to go easy on him if I could.

Sure he's a little vulgar, very rough around the edges, but that's to be expected. He was on drugs, and in prison for a couple of years. That can change a person, make them hardened, feel alienated by the rest of the world the moment they're released. He doesn't have a lot of people on his side right now, and it makes him bitter. I'm sure I haven't been helping things, but I'm brutally honest when it comes to taking care of the kids. It's my job and--I suppose Ava is more special to me than the rest.

I hope Jason can get his act together before his six-month ultimatum draws to a close. Ava deserves her father back in her life, if at all possible, and I guess I feel bad about underestimating her feelings for him.

I underestimate a lot of things, so it seems.

He's not such a bad guy after all.

"So, we've booked the reception at the Beverly Hills Hotel for the third weekend of July," my future mother in law smiles and pushes an agenda at me.  "They want you to come for a tour next week, and the wedding coordinator will meet with us there, so you can meet her then. How does that sound?

Eloping sounds better. Now I'm going to be stuck in a fancy ballroom, with high heels from hell, surrounded by six hundred of my fiancee's nauseating family and friends. Since they've offered to foot the whole bill to "save my parents some hardship," I guess I don't have a say in anything. They offered to help with the wedding too, my parents, but the venue options I showed Sandra last week, gave her this 'not over my dead body' expression. A few days later she called my mother and told her that she and Eli wanted to pay for the reception, and that was that.

I smile at Sandra and take a delicate bite of my salad. "That sounds wonderful, Sandra. Thank you."

"Have you started your guest list at all?"

"Well, my mom and I started it over the phone, but she and my father want to take a long weekend, come out here, and get some more things done, and of course see you and Eli."

"Oh, how wonderful! We'll set up the guest house, make a real occasion out of it, right darling?"

"Mm." Eli grunts and clears his throat, but doesn't look up from his Wall Street Journal as he takes another gulp of his coffee.

I've never had a real sit down conversation with the man. Every time I've been around him, he's always been in the middle of a call, or reading the paper. When Preston sat both his parents down to tell them about the engagement, the only thing Eli wanted to know was if we could schedule the wedding date around his court dates.

I try to like him but it's so hard.  I pray to God that my fiance doesn't turn out like him in ten or fifteen years. I don't know how Sandra puts up with it, but considering she's always dressed head to toe in the latest fashions, I don't think she cares how busy her husband is. She's materialistic, loves to host luncheons and benefits with her gaggle of girlfriends, and is content that way. Eli doesn't seem like the type of man who would put up with a nagging wife for very long.

"Hey, sorry I'm late." Preston rushes out to the veranda where we've been sitting having brunch, and kisses me quickly as he takes a seat next to me. "James was on the phone."

"What'd he have to say?"

It's the first time Eli has joined the conversation today.

"Well, you know that big case looming in Chicago? The one we talked about?"

"Of course."

Preston smiles proudly and sits up taller for his father. "They wants us to represent their corporation."

"Wonderful son!" Eli reaches across the table and gives his son a hearty pat on the arm. "See what a little networking can do for your career? I'm glad you made that call. When do you start pre-trial?"

"I have to fly out, end of next week." He stretches his arms out, smiles at me lovingly, and drapes one of them over my shoulder. "There's no telling how long I'll be away for before the wedding, but, I should be able to get away on the weekends before that"

I stare at him now. Honestly, I've been so busy that I haven't brought up what's been going on at his job, but now he's going away on business for who knows how long when we have a wedding to plan? "Pres..."

"We'll talk about it later, baby," he whispers it like it's not a big deal, and kisses my cheek as a plate of food is brought out for him.  He immediately digs in.

"Oh, it won't be so bad, dear," Sandra tries to reassure me in her superficially sweet tone. "You'll be able to have more time to plan the wedding with this one out of your hair for a few weeks. Eli, you were away on business up until the week of our wedding, weren't you?"

He straightens his paper. "Mhm."

I force a smile, but can barely look her in the eye. The fact that Preston didn't tell me there was a possibility he would have to go away on business is bugging the hell out of me. He was annoyed that I decided to take an extra shift on Saturdays, and now he's going to be gone for weeks?

I just don't get it.

To him my job is vapor.  Preston feels his career is more important than making wedding plans. I glance at my diamond again and think about what it means.  I begin to wonder if he really cares, or if he's just getting married because it's what his parents want.

"May I be excused?"

Preston stops chewing and stares at me.

"Of course," Sandra smiles.

Eli doesn't acknowledge that I exist, and I take it as my cue to get up and go back inside the house. I walk through the large sitting room, and through the grand foyer, before reaching the immaculate french doors. They're opened for me by one of the maids, and I nod at her appreciatively as I step outside. The large circular driveway looms before me, and I see my car parked there, waiting for me. I'm so angry that I debate just taking off.  

It's like he doesn't even care.

"Bets."

I turn slightly, see him standing there with his hands shoved in his pockets. The look on his face is telling me he feels shitty, and that's my Preston. The version I fell in love with, not the one who was just inside talking to his father. "What?"

"Look." He steps forward after a moment and sighs. "I was going to tell you."

"When?" I cross my arms and glare at him. "The night before you flew out?"

"This is a big deal, Betsy. It's national news, and it's going to do a lot for the firm, and for us. I have to do this."

"And in the meantime, what? I'm just going to plan our wedding without you?"

He laughs. "Bets, you know I don't care about all that frilly shit. Whatever you want, that's fine."

"I'm glad our wedding is just a bunch of frilly shit to you."

He steps up to me and pulls me closer to him. I'd love to pull away, leave, but I can't. When I stare into those eyes and watch him smile as he takes in every part of me, I fall in love all over again. That guy I fell in love with is there, in some form, and I can't help but kiss him back when he presses his lips to mine.

"I love you Betsy. You know I love you more than anything else, right?"

"Is that why you want to marry me?"

His brow furrows. "Of course it is. Why would you even question that?"

I shrug. "I just want to make sure this is what you really want, Preston. Once we say our vows, that's it. I don't want to end up like your parents. Nothing against them, but I feel like they barely have a relationship."

"You're right," he chuckles. "But I'm not my father, Bets. I don't read the Wall Street Journal at the table, and I'd like to think you and I have things we can talk about when we're alone. My mother isn't like you, you know? There's no depth to her, but that's what my dad likes. He'd rather not have to worry about what's going on with her. When they got married, things were different. He came from a prominent family and so did she. They were practically married from the moment they were born."

I just nod. Everything he's saying sounds great, and I know he's trying hard to convince me we're making the right choice. It's not everyday he gets deep like this. When we were a little younger he used to, but lately, that part of him has been showing itself less and less.

"It could take about two months, depending how smooth the trial goes. The first couple of weeks will be rough, but after that, I should get weekends off to come home." He strokes my face and hair while looking at me seriously. "You're in the middle of stuff at work anyway, so this might be for the best. Please don't be angry, Bets. I promise, after this we'll have the wedding, and I'll be all yours."

I press my forehead against his. "I guess sometimes I think that I'm going to lose this part of you."

"What part of me?" He laughs and checks himself over. "I'm here."

I nudge him slightly. "The down to earth part," I smile.

"Oh, so my ego is finally coming between us?"

"Maybe.  A little bit."

"You can just smack me when I'm getting like that, you know. I'll understand."

"I'd hate to bruise this face." I allow my smile to come back. "Maybe I'll just wear a chastity belt until we get married."

"You wouldn't. That would just be wrong on so many levels, Bets."

"You wanna try me? I can be pretty stubborn when I want to be."

He pulls me back to him, smiles, and kisses me once more. It's different this time though. It's what I remember from years past when his whole heart was focused on us instead of a career. "You wanna get out of here?"

I stare at him, amazed. "You're going to ditch Sunday brunch? What will Sandra think?"

He smirks. "I think she'll get over it."

I laugh as he pulls me along, and guides me over to the car, making sure to kiss me passionately before opening the passenger door and gently guiding me down into the seat of his convertible. It's been months since he's been this sporadic with me.

 I can't deny that it's putting me in a better mood.

"I guess I could do some volunteer stuff to keep me busy," I say after we peel out of his parent's estate. "There's some soup kitchens that have been begging for extra help."

He squeezes my thigh and shifts gears. "I don't know where you get all this good samaritan stuff from. If I ever run for president, I guess you'll fit right into the first lady category. Maybe that's good, right?"

"You for president?" I laugh. "Never happening."

"I'd get in on my boyish good looks."

"You're such a nerd." I sigh and lean against him as he throws his free arm around me. "I guess you can't help who you love, though."

"So you're stuck with me?" I feel his lips land on my head.

"I guess so."

"That's great, because I don't know what I'd do without you, Betsy."

I look up at him then, and I know he's being serious. Something is telling me he got scared before.  He knows that I could call this whole thing off if I really wanted to. "I'm right here, Pres."

"Yeah but you know, half the guys I work with are divorced. I don't want that for us."

"Then be here for us," I say.

"I plan to be."

There's a hint of uncertainty in his voice, and I quickly remember why I was annoyed with him in the first place. The truth is, he's scared about what will happen once we're married and if he'll be able to be that husband that I want him to be. Only, he won't come right out and say it. He can't because that's not who he is.  Preston is proud.

Too proud at times.

 I don't push the subject further, preferring to enjoy our day together.  Preston takes me to all the places around town that I love and we force ourselves to talk about anything besides the wedding and work.  It's relaxing, fun, and by the time we get back to our place, I'm all lit up inside as he holds me in his arms and guides me into the bedroom for another night of passion.

I don't want to let him go. God, I don't. But come tomorrow, he's going to go back to work, and all too quickly the special times we shared today will be pushed to the back of his mind. Then he'll leave for Chicago, and I'll be here, alone. It'll be a test for us, perhaps a good one, that will show me how life will be once we're married.

I hope I can handle it.