Self Service

Greek Holiday

Priscilla lay on Scott's shoulder as they boarded their plane, his arm around her waist. When they got to their seats, she rested her head on his chest. "Are you okay, sweetheart?" Scott asked softly.

"I'm trying to be."

Scott massaged her hand, his thumb rubbing circles in her hand. She was silent awhile, staring straight ahead at the blank screen in front of her. She wiped her face.

"I want to celebrate turning twenty-eight. And I know that I should. But twenty years is a long time to share something and have it ripped away. Most people will never have to experience this. Even fewer this young. I've tried not talking about him, and that doesn't work. But neither does crying. And some days are better than others, but not a day goes that I don't think of him."

Scott didn't know what to say, and decided that saying nothing was the best option here. Priscilla seemed to be reflecting and not looking for conversation. His presence right now was enough for her at the moment. She'd let him know when she needed anything more.

"I want the baby to be a boy," she told Scott. "Can we name him after my brother?"

"If the baby is a boy, yes, chère. We can name him after your brother."

"Thank you."

Scott just kissed her head and continued massaging her hand. She closed her eyes and sat back in her own seat as they were instructed to buckle up for takeoff, but Scott kept her hand in his.

"I was thinking, Scilla."

"I get worried when you think, Scott."

"How do you feel about buying a fixer upper?"

"A whatter what?" she asked, opening her eyes and looking over at him like he was insane.

Scott didn't say anything until the plane was coasting and they were advised that they could take their seat belts off. He took his tablet from his carry on and showed her the house he'd fallen in love with and Priscilla raised a brow.

"Scott, it's a 2,400 square foot dump."

"Right now," he added.

"Scott, that house is a piece of shit. No."

"It's a piece of shit because I haven't worked on it yet."

"No."

"You haven't even heard me out yet," he told her, pouting like she did.

She shook her head, not understanding why he didn't get by now that pouting worked on him, not her. But she rolled her eyes and decided to humor her husband.

"Fine, Scott."

"It's called a fixer upper. This house is not beyond repair. It just needs a good set of tools, a good pair of hands, and some love. It's in a good suburban neighborhood, has plenty of room to build the patio kitchen you want, the pool I want, and the playground for the baby. It has a three car garage."

"Scott, what is the draw for you to this house instead of us just buying one that is already well-put together and sturdy? You have too much time on your hands."

"That doesn't sound like no." He began to grin and she rolled her eyes, shaking her head.

"We buy this house, I get to have a new car."

"That's your compromise, Priscilla? A new car?"

"Do you want this house?" she asked, raising a brow.

"Fine, Priscilla. You can have a new car."

"Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Nolan."

She took her headphones out and turned on Leona Lewis, closing her eyes again as Can't Breathe began in. She didn't realize she'd fallen asleep until she woke up to the dire urge to have to pee and hunger. "Hey, get me something to eat," she told Scott, climbing over him and heading towards the bathroom.