Adam returns to his table, still amused. Eris, level-headed and damn brilliant, simply has a crush on Adam. It's that simple. It was always that simple. She's only twenty-five—not much older than Sarah, who Adam always considers immature. Eris may not be stupid, but she is just a kid.

Sarah is finishing up her meal, smiling at Daphne. They're talking about Daphne's birthday party, which is supposed to be some big bash. Adam shakes the feeling of Eris' words off and sits down.

Sarah smiles at him. She asks him if he likes his food. He hasn't eaten much of it, since Adam hates spicy food. He's only eating it because Daphne loves the little animals they make with the garnish at this restaurant.

Adam nods to her, slightly distracted. There's no way Eris was telling the truth. Her buyers just don't like that funding has been cut to her, so she's trying to get it back. There was no picture, no threat.

When they finish at the restaurant, Adam drives them home. Daphne falls asleep in the back of the car, exhausted from their day. As the city lights pass by, a song starts playing on the radio, and both Adam and Sarah perk up. It's the same song that was playing the night Adam took Sarah outside the city for a drive-in movie years ago. They'd stayed long after the movie was over, curled in the back of the truck Adam had borrowed from his uncle. In between kisses, Adam had asked to marry her, and she'd said yes.

Sarah looks over at him. She remembers it, too. She remembers the little spark of hope and excitement. The realization that this little affair was more than an affair. She remembers the way the diamond sparkled on her finger. That same diamond rests in her nightstand now, unworn.

Adam turns down their street as the song comes to the bridge. Sarah fidgets with her fingers. At the last second, alive with nerves, she reaches out and places her hand on his, resting on the console.

Adam lets her do it. He doesn't feel that shiver race up his arm anymore, but maybe that's jut because there's so much history. He curls his fingers around hers.

As he pulls into the driveway of the house, Sarah squeezes his hand. "Thanks for inviting me," she says quietly. "I know you wanted time alone with Daphne."

"I had plenty of that," Adam says, putting the car in park. He glances back at Daphne, her mouth hanging open in a snore.

"You want to come in?" Sarah asks tentatively. "I'll make you some tea."

Adam doesn't really drink tea, but he says yes. He takes Daphne out of the back and carries her to the door. Quietly, he tucks her into bed, then shuts off the light to her room and closes the door.

He makes his way to the kitchen, where the kettle is on. Sarah takes two teacups out of the cupboard, smiling at Adam. She has that I-don't-want-trouble-tonight look on her face—the same look she had when Adam would call her for a ride home from the bar.

"I've been thinking," Sarah says, leaning on the counter. "You said you weren't drinking anymore."

Adam holds her gaze.

"Well, it would be nice to have everybody together," she says. "And, you know. It's your house."

Adam feels his heart start to stutter. He'd thought it would take more convincing. He thought he'd have to prove he wasn't drinking.

Sarah looks down at her hands. "Look, Adam, I really want you here. Daphne really wants you here. But I need you to promise me that nothing like that will ever happen again."

That was a freak accident, Sarah, Adam wants to say. That had nothing to do with me drinking.

"Something like that will never happen again," Adam says.

Sarah smiles. She turns around and fills up the teacups, the comes around the counter and hands one to Adam.

"Are things okay at work?" she asks.

Adam takes a sip, but it's too hot. He's already thinking of places he can hide gin here so Sarah won't find it.

"They're fine. A little boring now that we're not really investigating Nyx anymore."

Sarah considers telling Adam about her conversation with Eris. But he would just get mad that Eris had people break into the house. He wouldn't see the whole picture.

Sarah isn't really sure what the whole picture is, though. Maybe she's just naïve, or maybe she has an instinct. But Eris hadn't said that she wouldn't hurt Daphne, or any of her people would hurt Daphne, she said she wouldn't let anyone hurt Daphne. And maybe Sarah's reading too much into the quote—maybe Eris just didn't think about the wording. But Sarah knows that Eris isn't stupid like her. She knows that whatever she said, she meant. And Sarah likes the idea of that apparently brilliant woman looking out for Daphne. And that instinct Sarah has here—it's not something Adam will understand.

Sarah takes a sip of her tea and smiles. "Maybe things will be easier when you get that office of yours back," she says.

Adam tries to match her expression, but there's something about this that feels confining. "Maybe," he says.

"Should we order a moving van tomorrow?" Sarah asks.

Adam shakes his head. "I don't have that much. Are you sure about this?"

Sarah isn't sure why he asked. "I thought this was what you wanted."

"It was—it is, I just..."

Sarah knows what he's thinking. Moving back in means they're together again. It means there's no bringing other men or other women home, especially since Daphne lives here, too. It probably means they'll get married.

Sarah doesn't really have a problem with that. She isn't much of an experimenter anyway. Adam knows her, and he knows what she likes. She'd never admit it out loud, but Adam was her first and since they broke up, he's also been her only.

"We don't have to get married now, Adam," Sarah points out. "We don't really have to do anything. We can just...be, for a little bit."

Adam feels like the house is smaller than it used to be. He looks past Sarah's shoulder, to the door. "You're okay with that?"

She shrugs. "As long as my daughter and her father are where they want to be, I'm okay with anything."

And that was the truth. Sarah didn't have her own wants, her own ambitions. She lived for Daphne's smile, Daphne's stories. She lived for Adam's laugh, for her friends' advice. She lived for her parents' approval, for anything but her own self.

Sarah looks over at the piano in the sunroom. She dusted it yesterday, but that doesn't make it any less unused. Maybe if Adam moves back in, she'll play again.

Adam is nodding slowly, his eyes sharp in the bright lighting of the house. He looks at Sarah.

Sarah looks back at him from the piano. Her parents will be so happy. They didn't understand why Sarah kicked him out in the first place. Children break their arms. It happens. Adam insisted it was an accident, that it had nothing to do with the liquor. But Sarah had a feeling in her gut that something was wrong, that he was a drunk and a liar to Sarah and to himself. He begged her, over and over. Don't tell the courts. Don't take my daughter from me. Don't do this.

And they'd never be that happy couple in the back of that truck again. Not after Sarah stood in front of that judge and said she believed Adam was unfit to be a father. He might move back in, he might agree to marry her again, he might pretend to love her like he once did, but they'd never be the same.

"You look scared, Sarah," Adam says. He can't place her expression.

She shakes her head. He isn't drinking anymore. If that had ever even been a problem or if it was in her head. Who knows? Sarah isn't very smart. It was probably an overreaction.

"I'm happy," she replies. "Very happy. Happy that we're going to make this work for Daphne." She reaches out and places a hand on his shoulder.

Children are best off with stable parents that are content with their own lives

But Sarah doesn't really know what makes her happy. Adam's laugh, Daphne's smile. So isn't she doing the right thing?

Sarah lifts herself onto her toes and kisses him. Soft and sweet, just like she was back when she met him.

Adam places the teacup on the counter, lifting his hand to her hair. Sarah is simple; Sarah is bland. Sarah possesses all those traits men think are fun when they're young but end up amounting to very little. But Sarah is Daphne's mother, so he kisses her back.

It makes Sarah happy. That much, she knows. This stability, this feeling of family, that makes Sarah happy. She brings her hands to her shirt, shaking a little. She hasn't done this in years. She isn't sure if she's going to do it right. She doesn't remember exactly how it goes from this to the other thing. She doesn't know if she's supposed to do some awkward walk backward to the bedroom, or if she's supposed to break the kiss and turn around to lead him. She doesn't know what would be considered fun and sexy. She feels like she doesn't remember anything at all.

Adam smiles through their kiss, knowing exactly what she's thinking. He used to love that tentativeness, that gentleness. He thinks it's repetitive now, but that's beyond his care.

He leans down, slides his hands under her knees and lifts her up. She laughs a little, wrapping her arms around his neck. She kisses him once, twice, knots her fingers in his hair as he carries her down the hallway, which is so much more fun than some awkward walk.

He lays her down, kisses her throat. Sarah unbuttons his shirt, and he lifts hers above her head. She lets out some sort of awkward laugh, and he smiles. Maybe she doesn't remember how to do this, but he does.

Sarah blinks as he kisses down her stomach. Before she came along, there had to be other girls. And in the years since—there was most likely more then, too. Adam probably doesn't like this high school-like love anymore. He probably wants to have a woman know what she's doing. He probably wants her to be all bendy and experienced. Confident and sensual. He's probably over this kind of thing.

If he is, he does a good job of hiding it. He doesn't push her; he only does the things he remembers her being okay with. It all feels very domestic to him, because there have been other women, before and since. They have been experienced and confident, and Sarah isn't. But that isn't something Adam needs. He's had his fun. Now he wants his family. If wild, exciting sex is out of the picture, then that's okay with him.

Long after he falls asleep, she runs her fingers over his arm, down his chest. She loves the way he looks, the way he moves. Maybe she can learn some of those bendy things. Maybe he'll teach her.

His face is serene, and she loves the way he looks. Things will be better now.

But as Sarah falls asleep, she gets that feeling again. That feeling that the arm was an accident, yes, but it wasn't a freak one. That Adam is a liar, to Sarah and to himself.