I preen my finger along my hair. Smoothing down the final flyaway.

I can’t wait for today, to see everyone’s face, so many toasts to be had. I hope the food’s good. God, please make sure Aunt Meredith hasn’t made her _famous_ cheesecake. I’m sure she just confuses concrete mix with sugar.

“So everything’s been finalised?”

“Everything, every detail. It will go as planned, I promise, baby.” Dean strokes his finger across my jaw, my eyes fluttering closed as I breathe in his scent, smoky musk, a little woody.

I take in the sight of him, he’s yet to change out of uniform, if it were up to me I would glue it to him.

I exhale my pent up breath, I’ve been planning this for years. I can’t wait to celebrate as a family especially. To show them off. Tia, Jack, Dean, I love them an unhealthy amount yes, but you can never say I’m not dedicated.

“I’ll go get changed. You look exquisite.” He comments, placing a light kiss on my bare shoulder.

I fill my glass with water, chugging down every drop, nearly choking when I hear a thump on the stairs.

“I’m fine!” Tia shouts, my heart then stuttering when she comes into view.

“What d’you think?” She smooths her hand over her pinafore, indecision in her gaze.

“You look beautiful, sweetheart.” Tears well behind my eyes at the fact I’d made this creature.

My phone dings, twenty minutes to go.

“Jack! You ready bud?”

“Coming!” I hear continuous thumps along the stairs, signalling his arrival.

“If those trousers are scuffed young man, I won’t be happy!” I attempt to sound scolding but my cool exterior is immediately melted when his dinosaur-patterned feet come into view.

“Daddy will help you with the tie.” I chuckle, ruffling his hair

He sits with a clunk, gathering his jigsaw pieces together.

“I can’t wait to see them! It’ll be so fun!” Tia squeals as she applies some tinted lip balm.

“It will.” I nod. It will. I haven’t seen my mother in months, not since the divorce. She and my aunt have been galavanting abroad, posting pictures of their tropical whereabouts. Fruity drinks on sun loungers. I’m proud of her. She’s always been in this shell, overshadowed.

I can’t quite remember when it began, I think I was maybe eight. It was my first holiday abroad, I’d had the most gigantic crush on the waiter, Michaèl, his tan skin, his slicked hair. Of course, I thought my Hannah Montana swimsuit would entice him.

I sauntered down the hallway towards my parents outside, sashaying my hips as only an eight-year-old could. So of course Michaèl rushed to me asking if I’d injured myself. Ugh the shame.

I walked outside towards the sun loungers, met with hushed rushed voices, my fathers’ in particular standing out to me. “How is that meant to make me feel? Practically throwing yourself in his face. You’re pathetic, you’re nearly forty and let’s face it, passed your peak. It’s embarrassing more than anything. You didn’t _actually_ think he’d be interested? ” He, and it confused me so much back then, he laughed. To laugh whilst wearing such an expression, one of wrath, fury.

I knew then, by the churning of my gut and the wrenching of my heart, that something was severely wrong with my father.

“I’ve told you, he told me a joke in Spanish, I was just ordering a drink.” My mother’s hurt expression pained me deeply.

I lingered a moment longer, even then at eight sensing the tension i couldn’t intrude on. My father's anger poured from him, his dark red face blistered from the sun.

“So it wasn’t him you were wearing that whorish dress for then hm? You know what, forget it, We’ll talk about this later.”

My mother stuttered, her lip quivering as her words were lost on what was essentially a brick wall, though at least they had a use. I won’t ever forget her face that day, defeat, but something else, something that darkened her once shimmering blue eyes, what I now understood to be dread.

A knock at the door pulls me from my thoughts, a silver Mercedes catching my eye on the driveway.

I open the door with a brimming smile, reluctant to allow anything to ruin this perfect day. Ah shoot, speaking of perfect, my red velvet is due from the oven! It’s my third attempt, it has to be edible at the least.

I’m met by a suited man, though I don’t miss the badge hoisted on his belt.

“Mrs Keaton?” His barren voice matches the smile that refuses to meet his eyes, I don't trust him.

“Yes, is everything okay?” I move my body closer to the door, closing it with me, a silent gesture signalling his unwelcomeness. Not today.

“I’m Detective Lane. Could I come in, I’d like to chat with you if that’s okay?” His tone clips, it isn’t a question.

“Ah, I'm sorry! We’re just about to head out, is it something important?”

I bite the skin of my cheek, tugging on it so as not to fumble with my hands instead.

“Everything okay here detective?” Dean calls out, coming up beside me whilst adjusting his cuffs. My mouth near watering at the sight of him.

“Mr Keaton I take it? I’d like a word with your wife, alone.” His mouth curls with irritation.

“Sergeant. When on duty. I’m certain I could be of use in your inquiries. Anything you need to say to my wife, you can say to me.” His hand slips to my waist, his thumb stroking leisurely.

“I’m afraid that won’t be necessary. Sergeant. Just a quick conversation.” His fingers flex repeatedly, for a detective, a high-stress job, he severely lacks the ability to be patient.

Dean steps in front of me, with no anger, no irritation, just a cool indifference. “Detective Lane, _I’ll_ say this once, because apparently my wife’s decline wasn’t enough, you are welcome to come back at a more convenient time, but that isn’t now. And it will be in my presence. Have an excellent day.” He no less flashes his canines with the pearly smile he offers up, shutting the door in his face, damn I married well.

He turns to me, cupping my face.

“I had it covered.” I smile at him, tapping his chin.

“Oh, I know. You enjoyed watching though, no?” His eyes simmers with heat.

I flush, even after these years, unable to hold his gaze when he looks at me like _that._

“Tia, get the icing out of the fridge please!” I step out of his embrace trailing my fingers down his chest as I walk away, enjoying the knowing throaty chuckle that comes.

We pull up outside the venue, people pouring in, sharing whispers and intense conversation.

“Ready?” Dean says, pulling me from my thoughts.

I can't believe it’s really happening, elation floods through me, my skin humming.

Nodding, I take his hand, a child on each of our sides, smiling and waving at everyone as we walk by them.

“We’re gathered here today, to celebrate the life of Derek Keaton. He was loved by many, A family man, most would say.” The vicar drones.

Aunt Meredith snorted, my mother then elbowing her into silence.

I turn to Tia, to Jack, and finally to Dean.

Our eyes speak for us.

“I love you.” He whispers, his eyes sparking with such intensity my eyes prick with tears.

“There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you.” He raises my hand to his mouth, his plump lips caressing my knuckles softly.

I beam at him—I’m sure, like a madwoman.

“I know.”