"He what?"

"Yeah, so he brings this girl, Abigail, over and says something like, 'why don't we all go back to my place, and see what happens?'"

"Wow, sounds like a real find, this guy."

Exactly a week from the wedding, Reese found herself in a coffee shop, on a sunny Saturday morning, sitting across from Tom, recounting to him everything that had happened at the wedding over a cup of iced tea (though after ordering, Reese found she didn't, after all, like iced tea, and it tasted nothing like the warm stuff you'd drink in winter, not in Hawaii, but she forced it down anyways).

"It was awful," Reese groaned, "and all that stuff about my mother wanting me to be like her -- I think I'd rather hang myself."

"Well," Tom chuckled, eyes shining, "if it's any condolence, I think your ass is fine just the way it is."

He had a blue baseball hat shoved over his head, so his dark hair spilled out the sides, sunglasses propped up on the brim. Reese suspected it was his best attempt at a disguise, and so far, to her knowledge, it had worked. Not one flustered girl had shuffled nervously over to them to ask for a picture, so far.

"Thanks," she laughed, "now just tell her that, will you?" Reese tipped the last mouthful of tea into her mouth with a smile and shoved the glass off to the side.

"Would you like a refill?" Tom asked, pointing to it.

"Oh, no, I'm great," she said hastily. "I'm super full."

Tom looked at her, amused. "You hated it, didn't you?"

Reese shrugged. "It doesn't taste like the hot stuff I know and love."

She had arranged one last meeting between them, as her flight was that evening, and she had no clue if they were every going to see each other again, despite their daily conversations on the phone.

"So," Tom said after a brief moment of silence, "you're heading home tonight, huh?"

"Yeah, LA. I have a small apartment, a job at a bar, nothing fancy."

"Maybe I could visit sometimes?" Tom said suddenly, smiling. "I'm not sure just talking on the phone would be satisfying enough."

"Really? You can't live without me, is that how it is?"

"Well, now that's a tad dramatic. I merely mean that, as a friend, I would like to get to know you further, and actually do friend things. In person. Not on the phone," Tom said with a flourish.

"Well, why couldn't you just hop on that private jet of yours and fly down to LA?"

Tom shrugged, lifting his mug to his lips. "Maybe I will. I'm not exactly filming at the moment. Though I do have other friends to visit, and family."

Reese waved him off playfully. "Psh, they're not important. I think we should watch the next Avengers anyhow. Put that at the top of your list."

"I'll do my best, darling."

Reese narrowed her eyes, leaned back in her chair, and crossed her arms. "Darling?"

"Yeah, that's what Jake called you, was it not?"

"Ugh, maybe once, or twice. Anyway, don't remind me."

"I can't promise that."

"You're awful."

Tom lifted his glass as if toasting something. "That's what friends are for."

"Hm, come to think of it, I have some friends who would probably love to meet you."

"Wow, introducing me already? I'm not sure I'm ready for that."

"Yeah, well, be prepared for endless criticizing, and teasing. Lots of teasing."

"The things I do for you," Tom sighed, draining his cup.

Out of the corner of her eye, Reese saw her phone screen light up from where it was sitting in between them. "I'd better get that," she said, reaching over and grabbing it.

"Yes," Tom said quietly, "you'd better."

Reese rolled her eyes, but swiped answer, holding her phone up to her ear. "Hello?"

"Reese Newhall?" A woman's voice.

"Uh huh."

"Er, I'm your father's caretaker, Emily. You probably don't remember me-"

"Oh, yeah, Emily, hi."

'Who's Emily?' Tom mouthed at her. She ignored him.

"I'm calling about your father-" was all she had to say before Reese felt a wave of panic flood through her.

"Is he okay? Is he hurt?" she asked hurriedly, cutting Emily off rather abruptly.

"No. no, he's fine," Emily assured her, "but... he could be better."

"What does that mean, he could be better?" Reese stuttered, scrambling to her feet. Tom tensed next to her, beginning to look increasingly worried.

"He's getting worse, and he's been asking for you all day, so I freaked out and called.. And..."

"He's been asking for me?"

"And someone named Delores?" Emily added.

"Oh," Reese said hastily, "that's my mother. His ex-wife-"

"Well," she continued, sounding more distraught by the minute, "I think you ought to come down. I'm not sure how I can comfort him alone, especially since he's been begging for you."

Reese swallowed the lump in her throat and ran a hand roughly through her hair. "Yeah. Yes. Okay, I'll come down as soon as I can. Tell him I'll be there, and he doesn't have to worry anymore."

She heard Emily sigh heavily. "Thank you so much," she said, sounding weary, but completely relieved.

"It's nothing," Reese choked, rubbing her stinging eyes. "Just take care of him, okay?"

"You can trust me," Emily told her confidently. "Take care."

"Bye."

As the line went dead, Reese stuffed her phone hastily into the pocket of her shorts and let her arms drop to her sides. Her father was officially getting worse; after nine continuous years of battling his disease, was he finally throwing in the towel? Would he even remember her when she got there?"

"Hey," Tom said softly, appearing next to Reese. He set a hand on her shoulder and pulled her into him, breaking her out of a trance she hadn't even realized she'd been in. "Everything okay?"

"I.. er.. My father-" she stuttered, suddenly completely overwhelmed with embarrassment. She was crying, in a coffee shop, in public, and Tom, who she'd only really known a month, was there to witness it.

"You have to see him?" he asked. Reese nodded slowly and reached up to wipe her eyes, the tightness in her throat making it difficult to talk. "Where does he live?"

"Um, he lives in Oregon," Reese managed, stepping out of the side hug Tom had enveloped her in a small attempt to save what little dignity she had left. "I have to.. Cancel my flight, and, oh God, what if I can't get there today? He's sick, and asking for me, and the stupid airline probably won't let me change last minute-"

"Reese, calm down," Tom said quietly, guiding her back over to her chair. "I'll take you."

She looked up at him suddenly, confused. "What are you talking about?"

"Remember that jet you we were joking about? It can actually fly, you know."

"But that's for important things, or meetings, or movies, Tom. I can't take your plane," she stuttered, standing up again and beginning to pace. "I'll just call the airline, and maybe I can get a flight in the next day or two. He can live two more days without me."

Tom strode up to her, grabbed her by the shoulders, and looked at her seriously. "Reese, is he actually as sick as you say he is?"

She stared at him, wide-eyed. "Yes."

"Then I'll take you," he said simply. "I've always wanted to visit Oregon anyway. Seems like a nice little state." This got a small laugh from Reese, and all at once she felt a wave of gratitude for her friend roll over her, and she pulled him into a hug.

"Thank you, so much, Tom," she breathed into his chest. He returned the hug without a moment's hesitation.

"No problem."

Reese pulled away clumsily, smiling all the same. "I think that's enough mushiness for one day, don't you think?"

Tom laughed and nodded, grabbing his coat off the back of his chair and slinging it over one shoulder. "I guess you should get packing then, huh?"

Reese stared at him. "We're going now?"

"Well, time is of the essence, is it not?"

"Yeah- yes, of course."

Reese followed Tom out of the shop, focusing on getting a grip on the thoughts and worries flying through her brain at a mile a minute.

***

"So do all celebrities just have hangers of private jets laying around, or what?" Reese asked as Tom hailed a cab.

"No, the company I'm filming with owns it, you could say I'm just borrowing it. It's not actually normal for me to have a jet, under any circumstances."

"Ah."

After the driver had finished piling Reese's luggage in the trunk, Tom yanked open the door of the cab and gestured for her to get in, then climbed in after her, and they were off. Reese actually called the airport to check the next available flight, her heart sinking when the woman told her Tuesday. "A day later than I'd anticipated," she grumbled, stuffing her phone into her bag.

"Well, I guess that means I'm stuck with you," Tom sighed, and Reese punched him lightly.

"Hey, you volunteered. No going back, or I'll be stuck here until Christmas."

They rode in silence the rest of the way, Reese busying herself by sending a long, detailed text to her brother, telling him about their father, and why she was leaving. Tom made a quick phone call to whom she assumed could only be the pilot of the plane, then settled for staring out the window and thankfully didn't try to console her further. She didn't want his pity.

Once they arrived, Tom graciously paid the man, waving off Reese's complaints, and helped her dig out her bags.

"So, what are we looking for?" Reese asked as they walked through the gates and onto a huge, flat, concrete expanse. They passed plenty of planes as they walked, lined up and out of the way of the runway, and Reese found herself (stupidly) imagining a large commercial plane as their ride.

"This," Tom said suddenly, stopping in front of a tiny white and red jet. "Is it smaller than what you were expecting?"

Reese shrugged and smiled, pounding up the set of stairs behind him. "Maybe a little."

"See, they downgraded me, after I crashed the big one they gave me," he chuckled jokingly over his shoulder. "And they took away my hanger of five other private jets -- can you believe it?"

"Really? How come they didn't just fire you?"

Tom shook his head, carefully setting Reese's bags down at his feet. "I guess they just love me too much."

"Well, it's lovely," Reese assured him, looking around. It, in fact, looked more like a fancy living room than anything else, with a few leather chairs scattered about, and little glass coffee tables set strategically in between them.

"Why don't you sit down," Tom offered, striding over to the closest chair. "We can't walk around until we're in the air.

Reese followed him, and took the chair to his left, pulling her legs up to her chest. They sat in silence until the driver came to let them know they were taking off.

"Reese?" Tom said suddenly, breaking the stretch of quiet.

"Hm?"

"He's going to be alright."