The girl stumbled down the stairs and into the kitchen, breathing in deeply and taking in the heavenly scent of the strong black coffee as it brewed. She scratched the top of her head and mumbled under her breath, waving to her parents. She yawned and stretched as she stood in front of the Bunn coffee maker. Elisabeth rubbed her foot against the back of her calf and placed her elbows on the counter, watching the liquid drip down into the pot.
"Kiddo, it won't make faster if you watch it."
She ignored her father and rubbed at her eyes.
Lindsey chuckled and rubbed the small of Stevie's back, leaning down to her ear. "Just like you."
"Leave her alone. You're only cheerful because you've had your coffee. I told you to leave her a cup," she admonished and flipped the omelet over in the skillet.
"I didn't, but I made a fresh pot," he returned and moved to the refrigerator. He pulled out the carton of Coffee-mate, pushing it towards his daughter.
Libba dipped her head in thanks and stretched on her toes retrieve her favorite mug from out of the cabinet. She jerked her head as her father cleared his throat. She followed his line of sight and grinned appreciatively. He'd placed her mug by the maker, but she hadn't noticed. Lindsey never understood why that ugly ceramic mug was his daughter's preferred cup. He watched her pour the right amount into the dark olive mug with odd atomic starburst patterns in shades of purple, orange, and yellow adorning the sides. Elisabeth glanced at him, dumping in enough creamer to make the black liquid turn tan. "Your coffee never had it so good," she reiterated the television commercial and tossed sugar into her cup.
"Want breakfast? Your mom's making omelets," Lindsey informed her, giving her a spoon to stir her coffee.
"Want one, baby?" Stevie asked, smiling at her daughter as she pulled out a chair at the kitchen island.
"I can make it," Libba answered and tapped the spoon on the rim of the mug.
"No, you won't. I hardly ever cook for you anymore."
Elisabeth told her mother what she wanted in her omelet and drank her coffee. "Where's nana and papa?" she inquired, getting more awake.
"Out for breakfast," Lindsey answered.
"Linds," Stevie said, sliding a cooked omelet onto a plate. "You aren't buttering the toast."
"I buttered your bread," he joked, howling when she failed to lash him with a dishtowel. "Missed!" Lindsey laughed obnoxiously.
Stevie hated that laugh. It grated on every nerve in her system. She readied the towel and whipped it through the air, popping him on his pajama covered rear end.
"Woman!" Lindsey yapped and massaged his assaulted butt. His lips curved into a sneer, noting how pleased Stevie was with herself.
She good-naturedly rolled her eyes, laughing at him. "Shut up and butter the toast, Buckingham."
He saluted her and took a seat on the stool next to Elisabeth. He began slathering butter on the pieces of white bread, painstakingly making sure the butter reached every corner evenly. Libba scrutinized her father's motions with the knife and shook her head. "Daddy, it shouldn't take forty-five minutes to butter a slice of bread."
"Leave your old man alone," Lindsey said. "I have one job to do, and I'm going to do it well."
"Let him be," her mother advised. "Is Andrew going to want breakfast?"
"He likes cold cereal in the mornings or leftover pizza," Libba replied and shivered. She rubbed her upper arms and furrowed her brows. "Why is it so cold?"
Lindsey placed a piece of toast on the pan and fleetingly glanced at Stevie as she averted her eyes. He chuckled. "It seems as if today your mother will be freezing penguins out of the Arctic."
"What?" Libba asked, dumbfounded. She felt as if her teeth would be chattering within seconds.
"A side effect of living with her when she's pregnant," he further explained and counted bread slices.
"I need a sweater," she decided and hopped off the barstool, disappearing up to her room.
Stevie sighed and looked at Lindsey. "Is it really that cold? I still feel hot."
"Babe," Lindsey said, sliding out of his seat and approaching her. He settled his hands onto her hips and squeezed. "You are hot," he whispered and kissed her neck, smiling as her laughter hit his ears. "I'm fine. I'm used to it. Libba isn't. To me, it's only brisk."
"I can't help it."
"I know," he murmured and eased his arms around her, tapping his fingers against her belly. "It's all their fault. I don't know how you do that."
"Do what, Linds?"
"Flip it over like that. How does it not spill out and make a mess?"
"You have to wait until the right time. Something you've never been the greatest at."
Lindsey smirked and pinched her ribs. "Smartass."
She turned her head and kissed him on the lips, cupping his cheek and stroking her thumb over his day-old stubble. "I can't help that either. Get a bowl out and all the cereal boxes out for Andrew, please."
"Can I put the toast in the oven first?"
"Yes, Lindsey," she answered him and took a bite of her ham, cheese, and pepper omelet. Stevie looked down at her dog and gave her a tiny piece of ham. "I know, Sully. He's a child too." The dog barked, gobbling the piece of meat and turning her ears back. Stevie sighed, shaking her head and hearing the boxes fall to the floor within a minute of Lindsey setting foot into the pantry. Stevie disregarded his choice words and smiled at her returning daughter. "Baby, I'm sorry I'm freezing you to death."
"It's fine, mama," she told her sincerely and pulled her hair out from the sweatshirt, tying it up in a ponytail. "I'll understand it one day. Not anytime soon though," she added, tilting her head as her father emerged from the pantry. She decided not to ask questions as he dusted rice krispies out of his curls.
"Fine with me. I don't want the title of grandmother just yet."
Libba giggled and made a second cup of coffee. She checked the toast and grabbed a mitt, taking the pan from the oven. She smiled at Andrew as he finally came into the kitchen. "Hey baby," she greeted him, smiling wider as he beelined to her and kissed her cheek.
"Morning," he spoke and nuzzled his nose against hers. Andrew shivered and whispered to his girlfriend. "I thought you were joking. I'll be back."
Stevie yelled out her apologies and handed Libba her plate. "Lindsey, get yours. Oh, get a bowl out for Andrew too."
"You told me that, Stevie."
"I did?" she breathed out, frowning at the amused look on his features. "Oh, shut up...you know my memory these days," she mumbled and sat at the table.
Lindsey refilled his coffee cup and lined the boxes of cereal on the counter, putting the bowl and milk in front of the boxes for his daughter's boyfriend. He joined his girls at the table and dug into his plate of food. He glimpsed at Andrew sit down at the table with his bowl of cereal. "Got any plans today?"
Andrew looked at Elisabeth. "Do I?"
Lindsey laughed heartily at his instinctive reflex to check with his other half. It had taken him years to learn to do that simple gesture. "Smart, Andrew."
"Daddy! Shut up," Libba scolded. "No. Do whatever you want. Wait," she paused and turned to her father. "Why are you asking if Andrew has plans?" She always felt like her father had an ulterior motive when he wanted to spend time with her beau.
He shrugged his shoulders. "Thought he might like to go to the studio. Look at the equipment."
She raised her brow suspiciously and chewed her food slowly, glancing at Andrew wipe milk off his chin. He awkwardly cleared his throat. "Yeah. Cool. I'm free."
"Good."
Stevie took a drink of orange juice, looking at the men. "The two of you better be back before dinner."
"Are we still going out?" Libba inquired, leaning back in the chair.
"No," her mother answered. "I thought it would be better to have dinner here. I'm going to do a pot roast."
Elisabeth's blue eyes flashed happily. She put her fork on her plate and grinned at her mother. "With creamy spinach and mushrooms?"
"Yes, Libba." She knew she had to make her daughter's favorite side dish. Stevie lifted her finger and caught Lindsey's eyes, knowing his thoughts before he opened his mouth. "Before you ask, I'm making potato gratin too."
"What about me?" Andrew asked sarcastically.
"You have cereal," Stevie teased.
He laughed and put his bowl in the sink, rinsing it before washing it. "Why aren't we going out?" he asked, scanning the faces staring at him as he glanced over his shoulder. "Oh, paparazzi." Andrew laughed at himself and washed the soap off his hands. He forgot most of the time that Libba's parents were famous. He excused himself, jogging upstairs for a shower and change of clothes while the others finished breakfast and cleaned the kitchen.
In no time, the men were preparing to leave the house. Andrew tapped his foot and looked at his girlfriend. "Does it always take this long?"
She laughed and shrugged her shoulders. "No idea. I'm not used to it," she admitted, watching her mother and father talking on the sofa. "Go on out to the car and get in," she instructed. "Honk if he's not out in five minutes." She kissed him and took the keys to the Mercedes, handing them over. "I love you. Don't let him drive you crazy."
"I won't, Lib," Andrew replied.
Elisabeth turned and walked into the room, dropping onto the unoccupied end of the couch and overhearing the whispered conversation. She smiled at her father's overprotectiveness.
"Lindsey, I won't overdo it. I'll have Libba to help me," Stevie told him. "Get out of here."
He kissed her temple. "I worry about you when I'm not here."
"I know but go. You haven't been in your studio in weeks. You and Andrew better not lose track of time. Do not be late for dinner," she stated sternly, pointing her finger at him.
"We won't be late," Lindsey promised and leaned over the arm of the sofa, tenderly kissing her on the lips. He flinched at the loud noise of the car horn blowing. "Goddammit."
Stevie laughed against his lips. "Bye, Lindsey."
As soon as the door slammed, she turned her head and grinned at Elisabeth. "C'mon," she said, reaching out and squeezing her hand. "I need a nap." Stevie moved to the edge of the cushion and prepared to push herself off the couch.
"Mama, what about nana and papa?"
"They'll be fine. Mom's probably dragged him to shop for baby clothes," she guessed and failed to move.
Libba shook her head and sprang off the couch, offering her mother a hand. "Need help getting up?"
Stevie nodded gloomily and took her hand, heaving herself from sitting. She swayed as she regained her center of balance, slipping her arm around her girl's waist as they walked up the stairs. Stevie touched her daughter's shiny, dark cocoa-hued locks. "Have I told you how much I love your hair being back to normal?"
Libba groaned, putting her hand over her face in consternation. "Mama, don't remind me. I still can't believe I chopped my hair off and colored it that color." She had left her hair alone except for trims to help grow the lost inches. With a lot of deep conditioning and an amazing colorist, her hair was close as it could be to her natural color. She glanced at her mother and decided to change the subject. "My classes end on May 11th. Finals will start a few days after that. I'll be home before your birthday hopefully."
Stevie nodded her head. "Honey, we have a way to go before my birthday." She didn't want to think about turning a year older.
"I know, but I wanted to let you know the dates. My internship doesn't start until third week of June, so I won't miss anything."
Stevie placed her hand on the doorknob and slanted her head towards her daughter as she stepped into the bedroom. "What are you worried about missing?"
"Mama, seriously? What you do think I'd be worried about missing? I want to be here for the birth. You're due on June 6th, right?"
"7th," her mother corrected with a soft chuckle, smoothing her hand around her belly to soothe the wild movements. "Baby, it doesn't work that way," she told her and pulled the mix of comforter and blankets back.
Elisabeth's brows wrinkled in confusion as she climbed into bed. She snuggled underneath the warmth of the blankets and rearranged the pillows against the headboard. "What do you mean?"
Stevie tugged her bottom lip between her teeth to prevent herself from doubling over with laughter. "Exactly what I said, sweetheart. It doesn't work that way," she repeated and settled into bed, sticking her numerous body pillows underneath her for comfort. She stirred until she was comfortably reclined.
"But you said June 7th. Why are you laughing at me?" Libba inquired, folding her arms over her chest.
She ceased her laughter, recognizing the same muddled, offended expression that would settle on Lindsey's face. "Libba, babies come when they want to. A due date is a guess."
Her eyes widened at the information. "A guess? You don't know? How can you not know? I thought that was the day."
"It's not," Stevie replied with a shake of her head. She rubbed her brow, wondering how she had never fully explained these facts to her daughter. Perhaps she shouldn't have gone into such detail about intercourse and preventing pregnancy when Elisabeth was a teen. Stevie realized she should have explained it all. She sighed and draped her arm around Libba's shoulders, pulling her bewildered child against her. "Do you honestly think the doctor told me you'd arrive on September 14th, Elisabeth?"
The twenty-year-old opened her mouth and closed it. She peered at her mother, searching her brown eyes. "Is this a trick question?"
"Just like your father," she murmured. "Answer the question."
"Well, that's what I thought. Clearly, I was wrong." Elisabeth slipped down and burrowed into the blankets.
"By a week," Stevie acknowledged, sliding underneath the covers and gingerly turning to face her.
"The 7th or the 21st?"
"21st," her mother told her, slowly trailing her finger along her cheek. "It didn't bother me at all that you were early. I was beyond ready to meet my beautiful girl."
She smiled warmly and cuddled as close as she could. "My brother and sister could be a week early or a week late."
"More likely early. The babies could be weeks early, sweetheart."
"Mama," Libba whimpered pitifully. "I don't want to miss it."
"I can't control it. It'll happen when it happens," Stevie grumbled, positioning a pillow under her hip. "It could be how I spend my birthday this year," she mused. Stevie hoped she wouldn't spend her forty-fourth birthday in labor.
"This sucks," Elisabeth mumbled.
"You don't have to go through the pain, Libba. That really sucks," she said and brushed Libba's hair out of her eyes. She was grateful that Elisabeth wasn't having a meltdown at the possible prospect of missing her siblings' arrival.
Elisabeth smiled softly as her mother kissed her on the forehead. She nestled her cheek into the pillowcase and observed her mother stifle a yawn. "Mama, don't fall asleep yet. I want to talk."
"About what, baby?" Stevie asked, letting her eyes close.
"I'd love to name my sister if you let me. I think I came up with the perfect name for her."
Stevie opened her eyes, meeting the hopeful, blue orbs of her oldest. "Tell me."
"Emily but spelled with an A instead of an I and instead of a Y an IE on the end," she explained.
"Emalie," Stevie repeated, letting her hand drift to her belly and rest over where her unborn daughter kicked gently. "I love that. What about a middle name?"
"Reese."
She shifted and tapped her fingernails against her round belly. "Emalie Reese Buckingham. Do you approve, little one?" Stevie laughed softly at the strong kick and focused her gaze on Elisabeth. "I think she does."
Elisabeth grinned from ear to ear. "That's her name?"
Stevie nodded her head, smiling as Libba covered her hand over hers. "I've been worried about you and this," she revealed, motioning to her middle. "I don't want you to feel left out."
"I won't. I promise."
"Libba, you can't make that promise. I know things will be different, and our relationship may change as much as I don't want it to. I don't want you to think I'm too busy for you or that I won't be there if you need me."
"I could never think that. You've always been there. Don't worry," she said, glancing up from drawing circles around her baby sister's foot.
"I will worry. It's my job," Stevie acknowledged and suppressed another yawn. "If you wake up before I do, wake me."
Elisabeth sighed and watched her mother lose the battle with sleep. "Goodnight, mama," she whispered. She fell into a restless sleep for an hour and a half. Libba pulled herself out of bed, creeping out of the room. She found herself in the kitchen, searching the cabinets for the dutch oven her mother had owned since the 70s.
"What are you looking for, honey?" a voice behind her inquired.
Libba shrieked in surprise, loosing her footing from her awkward position of being halfway in a bottom cabinet. She landed on her butt and glanced up at her grandmother, blushing with embarrassment. "Dutch oven."
Barbara Nicks smiled and moved to the cabinet next to the oven. She bent, pulling the cooking pot from the cabinet and placing it on the counter.
"Nana, how'd you know that's where it was?"
"It's where I keep mine. What are you doing with it?"
"Mama's making a pot roast. I thought I could help her out and cut the vegetables."
"Libba, do you know what you need to do?"
Elisabeth bit her lip sheepishly, realizing she had no idea. She knew the components of a pot roast but had no clue about the prep work. Libba made a mental note to improve her skills in the kitchen. "Well, I cut the carrots, right?"
Barbara confirmed with a short nod. "What about the onions?"
"Chop?"
"Peeled and halved," Barbara told her. "I'll help you. I know the recipe. We won't start anything else without your mother," she said, pushing up the sleeves of her blouse.
Libba grinned and opened the fridge, pulling out the bag of carrots. Her arms were full as she joined her grandmother at the table. She caught her nana up on her life, answering all questions asked. Her grandfather returned from making a phone call to Phoenix. She handled his grilling about her classes and summer internship in San Francisco.
"Jess, give her a break," Barbara admonished. "She's a smart girl. She knows to work hard," she told him, giving her granddaughter a wink. "Go wake your mother up. The chuck roast needs to go in soon if we're going to eat by six."
"I'm not done talking to Libba," Jess declared to his wife.
"You are."
Elisabeth hopped up from her seat, taking the opportunity to leave the kitchen as her grandparents bickered. She snuck into the master bedroom and stood at the side of the bed, giggling as she heard a swear word escape from her mother's lips. "Is that directed at me?"
"No. My bladder," Stevie huffed and rolled to the side, struggling out of bed and glancing at the time. "You didn't wake me up. How long have you been up?"
"Long enough to get peeling, halving, and cutting lessons from nana. And survive the third degree from papa."
Stevie trudged into the bathroom, using the toilet and washing her hands. She pulled her hair back with a clip and tugged her top down. "Don't tell me this is getting too small," she complained and walked to Libba waiting for her by the door. "Have you heard from Andrew?"
The brunette shook her head. "Nope. I don't know if I should be worried or not."
"Don't be. Your daddy's probably playing him every track from the album," Stevie predicted and slowly managed down the stairs to join her parents in the kitchen.
Before long, the pot roast was in the oven. The side dishes would be made closer to dinner time. She enjoyed a cup of tea and conversation with her mother and father while Libba took a phone call from one of her girlfriends. Stevie began making the side dishes with her mother's help.
Her mother looked at her. "Get off your feet. I'll finish this up."
"I can do it," she stubbornly replied.
"TeeDee, listen to your mother. I know best."
Stevie let out an annoyed breath and shook her head. She stalked to the refrigerator and took a bottle of water out, cracking it open. She took a sip and grimaced at the discomfort in her lower back. Her mother was right. Stevie waltzed into the living room, leaning against the doorway.
"Take a load off," her father called to her, patting the spot next to him. She smiled at her father and eased onto the cushion next to him.
"Where is Lindsey? He hasn't been here all day."
"He wanted to show Andrew his new studio equipment."
"He should be here with you."
"Daddy, he has been here with me. Don't be so hard on him."
Her father's expression softened, and he placed his hand over hers. "I want him to do right by you this time."
"He has," Stevie said earnestly and squeezed her father's hand. "We're different now." She ignored her father's skeptical look. "Daddy, we are."
"He's hurt you before."
"And I hurt him. It's never been easy for us, but we're stronger than the first time we were together."
Jess shook his head. "Tee, are you sure?"
Her breath hitched in her chest. She blinked rapidly at her father's question, pulling her hand out of his grasp. "I'm sure. It's in the past."
"Past mistakes can happen again and again," Jess said. "I wish the two of you hadn't rushed into getting back together."
She turned her head, swiping at her eyes and composing herself. She took a deep breath and faced the man that was her biggest fan and toughest critic. "Daddy, I don't regret anything that has happened between me and Lindsey. I'm happy – happier than I've been in years," she confessed and stood to her feet. "I hoped you would have seen that during your visit."
"Tee," he yelled to her as she ambled away from. "Stephanie! Don't walk away from me. You took what I said the wrong way. I want you to be happy, but I worry that -," Jess closed his mouth. His words were useless, and he hadn't vocalized his concerns as delicately as he should've. He watched Stevie disappear up the stairs. The loud slam of her bedroom door reminded him too much of her teenage years. He shook his head, catching his wife's harsh glare out of the corner of his eye. He held his hand up. "Don't say a word, Barbara."
She huffed and wiped her hands with the dishtowel, tossing it aside and following her daughter. She knocked on the door and peeked in. "Tee, it's mama," she announced.
"I don't want to talk," Stevie said, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue as she sat on the chaise lounge by the window. She was hurt by her father's judgment. Stevie pulled more tissue from the box and hunched forward as she sniffled, replaying the conversation in her head.
"Honey," Barbara soothed, stepping towards her daughter.
"Mama, please," she uttered softly as her voice cracked. Stevie shook her head and blew her nose.
Barbara stopped in her tracks and let her hands fall to her sides. "He means well. You know that...don't you?"
Stevie felt suffocated and smothered by her mother's attention. She wanted to be alone. "Mama, please," she repeated.
"I'll leave," the older woman said, slinking towards her and kissing the crown of her blonde head. Barbara retreated from the room and closed the door, resting against it and hearing the choked sobs.
Stevie cursed herself for letting her father's words get to her. She didn't need his concerns causing doubts to take root in her mind. "Dammit," she muttered and sat up. It was her life to live – not his. She'd made plenty of mistakes in the past, but a second chance with Lindsey wasn't a blunder. She stood and walked to her closet, deciding to pull herself together. She rifled through her closet, thumbing through her clothes and wiping tears from her eyes. Stevie pulled a knit kimono styled maxi dress from the rack and held it up. "Maybe," she spoke to herself and undressed, carefully slipping into the dress. She gazed at herself in the full-length mirror, running her fingers over the pleating at the waist. A pleased smile tugged at her lips as she turned to the side. "This will do." Stevie fixed the split detail of the sleeves and startled as the bedroom door pushed open. She hoped it wasn't her mother checking on her a second time.
Lindsey shuffled into the room and caught a glimpse of Stevie. He whistled and grinned at her. "Hello sexy," he cooed.
She giggled at him. "Like it?"
"Love it. Is that new?" he asked. Lindsey couldn't recall seeing the black dress before. He thought she looked like a goddess in the flowy material. He walked to her and ran his fingertip down the slit of the sleeve. "You're beautiful."
She shivered underneath his touch, feeling his fingers pull her long hair away from her neck. His lips grazed her ear. She relaxed against him as his arms enclosed around her. "I missed you," she murmured, breathing in deeply. An unmistakable scent invaded her nostrils and caused her to wrinkle her nose. She stared into the mirror, examining him.
He cradled her belly and felt her eyes burning into him. "What?"
"You're high," she surmised.
"No," he blatantly lied.
"You are. You bathed in cologne, but I can still smell it, Lindsey!"
Lindsey slid his hands down to her hips and hid his face into the crook of her neck. "I needed to relax."
She combed her fingers through his curls and resisted the urge to snatch out a handful. "Why?"
He limply shrugged his shoulders and lifted his head. "Jess," he answered simply. "Are you mad?"
Stevie shook her head and turned in his arms. "No, I'm not mad. I wish I could smoke to take the edge off."
Lindsey kissed the middle of her forehead. "Did something happen?"
She pressed herself against him, circling her arms around his waist and placing her cheek against his chest. "Daddy was himself."
He rubbed her back and rested his chin on the top of her head. "Baby, I'm sorry," he whispered. Jess Nicks was the reason he had to get stoned. Lindsey felt like an immature twentysomething year old kid around her father. The man was traditional and old fashioned. His morals were solid and unyielding. Lindsey was certain he'd be raked over the coals for not doing what Jess thought he should. He led her over to the bed and sat down with her. Lindsey took his hand in hers, letting their fingers tangle. "It's me and you. That's what matters, angel."
"I know," she whispered, falling into his chest. "Hold me for a while, please," she requested.
"I can do that," Lindsey replied and let himself lie back, taking her with him. He held her close, twirling her hair around his fingers as she nestled her body into him. Lindsey caressed the curve of her side, sliding his palm up and down to help relax her. He stared at the ceiling and didn't mind the silence falling around them.
Lindsey lifted his head, hearing a knock on the door. "Who is it?"
"Me," Libba said from the other side of the door.
"Come in, kiddo." Lindsey pressed his lips to Stevie's temple and squeezed her shoulder.
Elisabeth cracked open the door, popping her head in. "Dinner's almost ready."
"We'll be down soon."
"Okay," she replied and closed the door, opening it back up a second later. "Thanks for getting my boyfriend high," she said to her father and closed the door.
Stevie thumped Lindsey's chest and pushed herself up, looking down at him. "Did Andrew need to relax too?"
He smirked. "Yep," he answered quickly and sat up as Stevie moved to her vanity to do her makeup. He watched as she went through her minimal routine and waited patiently. He wouldn't let her go downstairs to face the music alone.
She stole one last glance in the mirror and sprayed perfume before turning to him. "Well?"
"Me and you," he told her and slapped his hands on his thighs before hoisting himself from his spot. He sidled up next to her and offered his hand to her. He looped his fingers with hers and ventured to the dining room. Lindsey pulled out Stevie's chair and smiled at her, mouthing he loved her. He passed through the door and into the kitchen to take the delicious food to the table. He startled at the feel of Jess's hand clapping him on his back. He hastily recovered and knew what was coming.
"Lindsey, when are you planning on making an honest woman out of my daughter?"
He looked at the older man and felt like he was transported to 1971. Jess had asked him the same question back then after Stevie told her parents she was pregnant. Lindsey lifted the potato gratin off the counter and hid the smirk playing at his lips. "Stevie's the most honest woman I know," he responded with the same wiseass answer he'd given over two decades ago. Lindsey took the food into the dining room. He was confident he'd survive dinner, and he started a countdown to when he'd drive Jess and Barbara to the airport.