Page 99 of Gave Proof Through the Night

Zoe cracks one eyelid at me from the beanbag she insists is ergonomically superior to every bed she’s ever owned. “If that’s the FBI,” she says, “I am going to be really miffed.”

Tanya throws the door open before any of us can fully surface, and there’s a beat where none of us know what we’re looking at. A very tall man in the hallway, rolling carry-on parked at an angle behind him, a garment bag over one shoulder, and a leather messenger bag crossed over his chest. Glasses. A face already lit up like Christmas morning.

Dale.

He has just enough time to set the garment bag down, before Tanya jumps and throws her arms and legs around him.

“Sweet Cheeks,” he says into her hair, like it’s the only word he knows.

I blink at the two of them. Then at Suri, who’s surfaced enough to prop herself up on one elbow. Then at Zoe.

"Tanya," I say, still groggy. “Did you know he was coming?”

Tanya doesn’t answer. Tanya is busy.

"She knew," Zoe says. "She knew and didn't warn us."

“Tater Tot.” Dale says it into her hair. “I wub you.”

“I wub you more, Big Mac.”

“No, I wub YOU more, Sugar Plum Fairy.”

Oh, here we go.

“I wub you so, so much, Schmoopy.” She pulls back just far enough to look at him, still wrapped around him like a koala. “So much.”

“I wub you so much more, Honey Pot.” He kisses her nose. Then her forehead. Then, for good measure, the tip of her nose.

This is a lot of feelings for six a.m. on an empty stomach. I need coffee.

“McMuffin.” She says it like an accusation of love.

“Marshmallow.” He nuzzles his nose against hers now.

Somewhere, a Hallmark movie producer just felt a disturbance in the force.

“You said you’d call from the airport,” Tanya says, finally letting him breathe.

“I did call. You didn’t pick up.”

“That’s because I was asleep. And had my phone on silent so it wouldn’t wake anyone up.”

“That’s okay, Pop Tart.“ He sets her down but doesn’t break contact.

Well. I glance at Zoe. There goes any hope of going back to sleep.

He turns, and looks from one woman to the next like he just noticed he had an audience. There’s that lopsided grin of his in place, like his whole face is saying welp, here we all are. I never noticed it before, but he’s kind of Brendan Fraser-coded. Like a young Brendan Fraser with a dad bod.

His eyes catch on the loft for half a second, at the worktable, the monitors, the recording rig, the scale model of the Four Seasons, and then move on just as fast. His face splits into that goofy smile when it lands on me.

“Erica!” He opens his arms, and I get pulled into a hug that’s too squeezy for this early in the morning.

Zoe’s next. He gives her a hug and a cheek kiss and a “Wow! Look at you.”

“You remember Ginger,” I say, and watch him commit to a hug he clearly needs half a second to place. “Ginger! Of course.” And I know he’s trying hard to place where he’s met her before.

Tanya’s engagement party. But there were a lot of faces that night. He’s too polite to admit he doesn’t remember her, so he just holds the hug a beat longer than necessary.