Although they never said anything of the like, Roman felt like he was cramping Everleigh and Maverick. They'd given him his space in the guest room. Any time that he came into the living room, there was always a spot on the couch for him. They always made extra of whatever meal was being made so that Roman had plenty to eat. For a couple who didn't want kids, they were sure as hell good caretakers.

It was suffocating.

"Does everyone have everything for everyone?" Maverick said, fingers pressed a little too hard into a too expensive candle they'd bought for Dawn while Everleigh tried to tape it down.

"I didn't get anything for you," Everleigh said.

Maverick mockingly laughed at her. "Good thing I paid for my tattoos with our joint account."

"Happy Christmas, hope you like it."

"FUCK YOU." Roman didn't mean to hug the moose. He just wanted something to hold while he laid on the couch pathetically.

"Sorry."

"It's fine, man," Maverick said. "Don't sweat it."

"I don't have anything for Florence," Roman said.

"I..." Maverick trailed off. Looked at Everleigh for help, she looked just as lost.

"I mean," Roman said, "I shopped with the girls. We got stuff from them. But... was I supposed to buy something for her?"

"I guess that's up to you," Everleigh managed.

"Do you want a gift for her?" Maverick asked.

"I don't know."

"FUCK YOU."

"Maybe?" Roman said. "I haven't the faintest what to get her."

"Should frame your divorce papers and give them to her."

"Everleigh," Maverick chided. "Not helping."

"I'm just saying."

"Get out."

"My house."

"Our house. Out."

"Why?"

"Because you're the only one here who hasn't been dumped by someone they were ready to be married to forever."

"Well." Everleigh crossed her arms. "Dump me and then I get to stay."

"No. Don't be a cauliflower."

"Cauliflower?"

"Cauliflower."

"Fuckin' spoon." For whatever it was worth, Everleigh stood up. Took a couple steps away before walking back and kissing the top of his head. "I love you."

"Love you too, turnip."

"Call me when you've reached a decision."

"Bye now."

Everleigh left the room, Dewey following close behind. Maverick looked at Roman; who was somehow still curled up with a stuffed moose in his arms.

"Okay," Maverick said. "Talk it out."

"Ew."

"Come on. You're a counsellor. You know this is how it works."

"Do I have to pay you for your therapy services?"

"Consider this one a Christmas gift," Maverick said.

"I wouldn't," Roman said. "You're gonna hate what I got for Everleigh."

"I'm making the decision for you," Maverick said. "If you got something for Everleigh, you gotta get something for Florence."

"It was mostly because I don't think anyone else in the world would buy what I did but she'd think it was funny."

"What the hell did you get her?"

"I'm delaying my death until Christmas Day, so I unfortunately can't tell you."

"I respect that."

"That was a cheap therapy session."

"You should talk to Everleigh about MARS if you think one session was cheap." Maverick laughed softly to himself. "Here if you want to talk more about it. Also free of charge."

"You said tattoos," Roman said, electing to change the subject. "I know about the sun..."

"You're asking me about tattoos instead of letting me counsel you?"

"Think letting you counsel me is malpractice on my part," Roman said. "Could lose my job."

Maverick pulled his shirt over his shoulder and turned a little so Roman could see. Along his trap was a tattoo that was starting to scab, but it was undeniable what it was: the letters N, R, L, and B. Roman could've cried.

"We might not want kids of our own," Maverick said, pulling the shirt back on, "and... you know, I've won two albums of the year. Two Tonys. An Academy award. Being their uncle? Greatest honour of them all."

Roman had the feeling that Maverick hadn't told Stevie yet. Billie was barely a year old and she already meant the world to so many people.

"They should be honoured they get you as their uncle."

Maverick smiled. "Get you as their dad. And... step-dad."

"Right," Roman said. "I need to call my husband soon and check up on him."

"Might get stuck babysitting."

"I'll leave that to Uncle Mav."

Maverick laughed. "That's only for your kids."

"No way Stevie's trying to get Billie to say Kingston."

"Spoon, actually," Everleigh said, walking back into the room. "You two were taking too long. Are we going to the mall or would we rather watch a movie and not want to kill ourselves?"

"I might need something for Florence."

"That's the wrong answer."

"It's not like we're actually together, but..."

"Thought you wanted to be," Maverick said.

"Helpful, Mav," Roman said. "Thank you."

"Guess we're shopping."

"Don't ditch us like you usually do," Maverick said.

"I won't, I promise."

*

Roman was almost thankful when Everleigh inevitably ditched them because he didn't have it in him to tell her he'd forgotten his insulin and blood sugar monitor at their house. And with all his drinking the last couple days? He could've really used it. She was going to kill him. His unfortunate reaction to being depressed was to stop caring about himself. That was never a good thing.

"So... because you didn't answer," Maverick started. "How are you? I get the depressed feeling, but what else?"

"You really don't have to..."

"But I want to." Maverick motioned to his ears. "Got my implants on and everything."

"How are things going with you and Everleigh? How's marriage?"

"How's fake marriage?"

"Shit. You?"

"Care to elaborate?"

"Nope. Your turn." In fact, Roman thought he was going to vomit. He was nauseous enough that late shopping for Florence was enough to make him want to curl into a ball and fall asleep until his stomach felt better. He would've loved if Maverick talked about his relationship and Roman could try to ignore the pain in his stomach.

"I didn't think I could love her any more and then she got insulted by a man in a bar," Maverick said, "and instead of leaving, she beat him in a hot wing eating contest. Kicked his ass, actually. And... and I realized that I've been falling in love with her a little more every day when I already thought I loved her the maximum amount I could. And that feels special."

"And we're talking about Everleigh, right?" Roman asked. "Like, gave you a moose build a bear that says fuck you Everleigh?"

Maverick laughed. "One in the same."

"I get why you need to be high around her."

"Nah," Maverick said. "That's for the panic, not for her."

"For Her," Roman said, "Ha."

Maverick pointed at him. "You know, that's exactly why I called it that."

"Really?"

"Any time anyone in the world says For Her," Maverick said, "they get a little glimpse of Everleigh. The whole world gets to sing her a love song in little fragments."

"How did..." Roman sighed, rubbed at a pain in his stomach. "How did you know it was time to leave... I'm sorry, I don't know her name. The first fiancée. When did you know it was time?"

"Honestly, I didn't. Um." Maverick pressed a finger to his top lip, artfully dodged a frantic Christmas shopper. "She actually left me. Said we'd fix it and that she'd be back... never was in the same capacity. We mostly just hooked up whenever I was in New York after that. No romance, just... sex."

"Oh, perfect," Roman said. "Guess I'm in that stage."

"I don't think you are."

"No?" Roman yawned. "Now you're a love guru and not my therapist?"

"Certifiably, I'm both."

"You're something."

"But, no, I mean..." For someone so talented when it came to song-writing, Maverick sure had a hard time putting together words when they didn't rhyme. "When she and I would hook up, it wasn't something to feel good about after. Um. It was almost like it was a routine, like a job. You settle into your nine-to-five and that's kind of the end of it. And, yeah, it was good. Fine. Great, even. But it got so... monotonous. Like there wasn't anything to be excited about because there weren't any feelings involved.

"For a while, it was okay. Sex... usually is." Maverick shrugged. "I'm not explaining this well."

"You're explaining it fine."

"You didn't look that way," Maverick said. "First day you came to ours. You looked like you regret whatever you fought about, but you didn't look like you regretted how you got there. I think that's the difference."

"I didn't look like I regret it?"

"You looked like you would go back and do it again night after night because at least it meant you got to see her," Maverick said. "I don't think I felt that way after she left the first time. And it's probably good because if I settled for less, I wouldn't have found Everleigh. Almost did lose her to less. So believe me, I'm the leading expert."

"The science is... sound," Roman said.

"I'm saying this as your friend," Maverick said. "Not your brother-in-law."

"We're technically not anymore."

Maverick gave him a look.

"Okay."

"Going back to Florence is accepting what you deserve," Maverick said, "which is the best. And I'm willing to bet she thinks the same."

"You don't have a good track record with bets."

"I have a decent track record knowing when people are supposed to be together. And you and Florence are."

"You're saying that because we're almost related."

"How's that if you're not wanting to acknowledge your marriage?"

"I'm acknowledging your marriage."

"Touché."

Roman grit his teeth together. Rubbed his hand into his side.

"Are you okay?"

"I read somewhere that stress manifests in weird places—"

"Hey, baby—" He hadn't even seen Maverick take his phone out, let alone dial Everleigh's number. "Um. Roman's got... stomach pain?" Maverick nodded as she talked on the other side of the line. He looked at Roman, pulled the speaker away from his lips. "Any other symptoms?"

"Um. No?"

Another nod. "Everleigh wants to know if you're lying and you feel sick."

"Did she actually say that?"

"Her words were full of shit."

Roman felt like he was having another panic attack. Like only a quarter of the air he was sucking in was actually reaching his lungs. "A little."

"A little," Maverick repeated.

"What?"

Roman and Maverick looked to their left. Naturally, Everleigh was walking past them. God damn it. Maverick pocketed his phone. Everleigh nearly toppled over a stroller trying to rush over to them.

"Um. Hi," Maverick said.

"Hi, babes." Everleigh looked over. "Roman. Symptoms, now."

Roman dropped his hand from his side. "It's not that bad."

"When did you take your insulin?"

"Uh—"

"Roman."

"You're on vacation. Fuck off."

Everleigh gripped his bicep. He didn't want to meet her eyes, he knew she'd look worried. She led him away from the middle of the crowds, sat him down near an old man waiting for someone in one of the stores nearby, and crouched in front of him. "I'm not fucking kidding, you need to tell me what you're feeling. Rate it on a pain scale. Right now."

"Why?" Roman pulled his arm out of her hand.

"Are you asking because you're confused or are you asking because you're being a pain in the ass and you know it?"

"Everleigh," Maverick chided. "Bedside manner."

"Not the time." Everleigh stuck her finger out at Maverick, almost ruder than telling him to shut up. "Talk."

"My... my stomach hurts. There's... a pain in my side. Feel kinda pukey."

"Are you stuttering because you're nervous or because you can't catch your breath?" Roman didn't like the way Everleigh's eyebrows knit together. He didn't like her cold fingers on his wrist as she pulled her phone out to count his pulse. And he hated the way she looked him in the eye when that minute—the one that felt entirely too long—was over, the way she expected an answer that he didn't want to give.

"You're interrogating me."

"That's not an answer."

"Both."

"Up. We need to go." Everleigh snapped her fingers.

"Go where?"

"The fucking emergency room, Roman," Everleigh said. "Where's your insulin?"

"I..." Roman hoped he looked as guilty as he felt. "It's at yours."

Everleigh might've been a phenomenal nurse. But there was no hiding how stressed out she looked. It was evident when she swallowed hard, looked at Maverick. "Do we still have a backup?"

Maverick shook his head. "I think ours was expired. You got rid of it when we got here."

"Fuck." Everleigh ran a hand through her hair. Grabbed it a little too tightly. Bit her lip.

"Leigh, it's not your responsibility."

"I should know better." Not the lip tremble. The tightened jaw.

Maverick silently put a hand on her shoulder and rubbed it gently. A quiet balm to the burn.

"Can you drive to St. Thomas'?" Everleigh asked, looking up at Maverick.

She might as well have asked him what the atomic mass of krypton was. "I know we used to live here but that doesn't mean—"

"I will give you directions, Kingston. Are you able to drive or should I call an ambulance?"

"Um, oka—"

"Good." Everleigh was surprisingly strong for someone who didn't weigh a ton; she hauled Roman off the chair before he could take his next shaking breath like it was nothing.

"I'm fine," Roman tried. "I think I'm just stressed out."

"Please don't refuse care—" Everleigh practically begged him.

"The emergency room will be packed, Leigh."

"Do I have to say I think you're going into ketoacidosis, or will you trust me that I know how the hell to do my job, Roman?"

"What does that mean?" Roman asked. He hated that he was digging his heels in as Everleigh struggled to make him walk to the car. Maverick had flanked him on the other side, merely following her lead.

"It means that you need insulin."

"Or?"

"I didn't say there was an or." But her expression did. The way her eyes scanned where they were going like she was looking for the quickest escape route out of the mall—like she was already miles away, planning their route to St. Thomas'.

"There's always an or," Roman said. There were times where no news was good news; but when it came to Everleigh, no news was terrible news.

"I'm sorry that I don't have any insulin with us." Everleigh looked at him; eyes full of fright and worry.

"It's not your fault."

"I should know better—I do know better."

"So do I."

"Ketoacidosis is potentially life-threatening if not treated in time," Everleigh said. "So, can we please get going?"