REAGAN WOKE UP the next morning reaching for Dave's side of the bed. Her fingers curled around empty air, dragging along the bare threads of her sheets as she held her hand out limply, searching for him in her half-awake fog.

It was only when she grabbed at nothing did she remember.

They'd fought the night before. Dave had hoodwinked her into a promotion at DGC. She hadn't earned it on her own at all.

It had been him, working behind the scenes the entire time.

She sat up with a thickness in her throat that made it hard to swallow. Usually, when Dave was home from touring, she woke up before he did. It always allowed her time to snuggle closer to him, to kiss his face as he slept and groaned for her to come closer.

Waking up to find him gone hurt worse than a physical blow to the abdomen. She didn't know where he was, though it was likely that wherever he'd run off to, it was somewhere where he could lose himself in the therapy of music.

Reagan got out of bed and checked on Gracie, who was still fast asleep in her crib. Soon enough, she'd wake up calling for Reagan like she did every morning. Reagan wondered if Dave had kissed Gracie goodbye on his way out, sliding the bars of her crib down and brushing his lips against her forehead.

Her chest ached and she forced herself not to think about it. She didn't want to imagine that she'd run him out of their home together. He had every right to stay but even then, he'd also her monumentally pissed her off.

Dave might not have understood why she was angry, but to Reagan, the gesture that he'd made acted as a kind of confirmation of all her self-loathing doubts.

She couldn't make it anywhere on her own. No one saw anything in her that was worth commenting on. If it hadn't been for Dave, she would still be at Wilson's, being drooled over by Tommy and kicking around on grease-stained floors with a broom in her hand like some kind of pitiful Cinderella.

Truthfully, Reagan really did want that promotion at DGC. She'd thought about it as she'd fallen asleep, imagining herself as someone who had an actual say in what they did for a living. She loved music, as she had her entire life, and Dave had said one poignant thing to her the night before that had made her practically burst with longing.

If she worked in the music business, then she could be as close as possible to what she loved without having to commit to a band. She could dip her toes into the one passion that had taken hold of her life while still being a mom and a person who existed outside of a band commitment.

There was no college degree, no hard-earned experience that Reagan had to prove she knew what she was doing. But she had the drive. She'd always wanted more for herself and while she'd gotten the luck of the draw with Dave and Gracie, it was high time that she settled her inner turmoil about what other purpose she had aside from being a wife and mother.

As she got ready for work, she decided that she would go ahead with her meeting with Todd. She was as stubborn as could be, but she wasn't that stubborn, and she really didn't want to stand Todd up when he'd ultimately gone out on a ledge for her.

"Dave still sleeping?" Sarah chirped happily as Reagan walked out into the living room. She was making Gracie's breakfast, looking right at home in the kitchen as she cut up a waffle into bite-sized pieces. Gracie was on the floor, banging two wooden blocks together as the television played cartoons.

"He left early. I don't know what he's up to," Reagan said, ignoring the pain that seized her. She bent down and kissed Gracie on the head. If only she could have stayed home that day, ignoring all of her previous engagements and finding comfort in her daughter instead. That would have been the easy way out.

Ten a.m. rolled around faster than Reagan would have preferred and before she knew it, she was standing in front of Todd's office door, smoothing her skirt down and taking deep, timed breaths.

The door opened and Todd welcomed her in, grinning in pleasure and oblivious to the grim tilt of Reagan's lips. She sat in front of his desk and crossed one leg over the other.

"Coffee? Tea? Water?" Todd rattled off.

"You wouldn't happen to have anything stronger, would you?"

He barked out an amused laugh. Reagan supposed that she should have been relieved by his reaction, but it didn't matter. Her tongue had sharpened itself into a fine point and whatever filter she'd used previously in the work place was gone. There was little to prove to Todd, anyways. She could have had an arm sprouting of her head and he would have promoted her still.

All because of Dave.

"I'm glad you followed through with the meeting, Reagan," Todd said. He dipped himself down into the tall leather chair behind his desk, folding his fingers neatly against his chest. He was still smiling at Reagan, which was almost unnerving. He unknowingly didn't have to play the role that he'd been forced into any longer. There was no reason for him to be smiling at her as if she were a Christmas present come early.

"Of course," Reagan answered stiffly. "I'm happy to be here."

Todd launched into his spiel, speaking with his hands and giving Reagan what she would have called a crash course into the music business. It wasn't the version of the business that she'd already been in for two years. Compared to what Todd was saying, Reagan had barely skimmed the surface of what working at a label fully entailed. Some of it she knew, thanks to Dave and his inability to not ramble about everything and anything, but other points were foreign to her. If she'd felt more seriously about the offer on the table, she might have brought along a note pad and pen.

He droned on and Reagan listened, bobbing her head when he took a short breath in between sentences and meeting his eyes determinedly. The least that could come from the interview was the reward of walking away with her dignity intact. She'd show Todd that in some immeasurable way, she cared. Beneath the broil of her anger were the remaining dregs of hope, carried over from the night before. But that was when she'd thought she was being taken seriously.

Todd racked up nearly fifteen minutes of spewing information before pausing, evaluating Reagan's face.

"Any questions so far?" he queried.

She sat up straighter in her chair. This was it. This was her moment to take back what little power that she held in the situation. One of her fatal flaws was peeking through — her contempt for being embarrassed. And she had been in embarrassed, in a way. She'd been whittled down to nothing more than baggage on the arm of an important man.

Fuck that.

"Actually, yes," Reagan said, clearing her throat.

"Fire away," Todd grinned, holding out his hands as if to give Reagan the floor.

She drummed her fingers on her kneecap before stilling her fingers. "Todd," she began, "I know that Dave spoke to you."

"He sure did," Todd said breezily. "Reached out about a week ago to tell me all about you. The kid's obviously in love."

Ignoring the flaming heat in her cheeks, Reagan pressed onwards. "Yes, I found out about that. I want you to know that this is unnecessary. You absolutely do not have to hire me because of Dave."

"Of course I don't." Todd chuckled and reached for his Starbucks cup, tipping it to his mouth. Of course it would be Starbucks that he chose for his morning coffee.

"So . . . I guess that's it then," Reagan said. Her voice faltered. "It was nice speaking with you, though. I learned a lot. Thank you for that."

Todd watched as she started to stand from her chair. His eyes widened and he hastily set down his coffee, a little wave of it splashing through the opening.

"So you don't want the promotion?" he asked, astonished.

"I don't think it's appropriate for me to be given that role. It could go to someone more qualified."

"But I'm offering it to you."

"I know that people already whisper about me getting my desk job from Dave. Imagine what they'd say if I moved up with no credentials. No experience."

"And you care about what other people have to say?"

Reagan flinched agitatedly. It was an insulting thing to hear.

"No," she said firmly. "I don't. But I can't accept a position when it's being handed to me for no reason besides nepotism."

"Ah. You're one of those prideful types."

When Todd saw the responding expression on Reagan's outraged face, he laughed with ease. She felt her hand twitch into a fist and suddenly, she wanted to slap him. Here she was, trying to be honorable about the whole thing, and he was laughing at her.

"Reagan, I didn't have to listen to Dave, you know," Todd said, still chuckling with amusement. "He may be part of the biggest band to come out of Seattle in god-knows how long, but I am able to say no. You understand that, don't you?"

"You would have said no then, if that was true," Reagan countered.

"Why would I do that?"

Her patience was thinning into dangerous, rivet-like strands. She could feel them snapping within her as Todd kept that genial smile plastered in place.

"Because I'm not qualified," she said. "Why would you pick me when there are other people more deserving?"

"I didn't single you out solely because of Dave," Todd insisted. "I've heard talk here about you. You've made suggestions about some of our clients, even from behind that desk. Many of them have turned out to be incredibly helpful."

Reagan clenched her jaw. "I didn't know that anyone was taking me seriously. I shouldn't have said anything. I was speaking out of turn."

"Maybe," Todd shrugged. "People were impressed with you, nonetheless. And then Dave calls us up one day, smooth-talker that he is, and starts saying that you could be a real asset to the label. I believed him. I believed it even more when I brought you with me last night."

"Look, Todd. If you really wanted me to be a part of this label, I would accept, but I can't do that knowing someone basically made the decision for you," Reagan argued. She was no longer worried about impressing him or maneuvering around the conversation with the respect required of her. He wasn't understanding her point and she would do anything possible to make him understand, even if it meant raising her voice and making an ass out of herself. There was no way she was budging on her stance.

"Dave didn't make the decision for me. Hell, if I hadn't heard your name being tossed around already by my coworkers, I might have blown him off. He had great things to say about you, though. His call only set my decision in motion. Trust me Reagan, someone would have sought you out eventually. You're a hard worker."

"Yeah, keeping everyone's schedules in check is real hard work," Reagan quipped sarcastically. "It's a great example of signing up and coming artists."

"You're painfully unaware of yourself."

"I am not!"

"If you weren't, then you would be able to see the effort you've already given to be promoted. You would have heard yourself dropping comments around about the bands that come onto our radar. You've been unconsciously promoting yourself this entire time."

"I would never," Reagan said. Her mouth wasn't working properly and her denial came out weakly, defused of her previous indignation.

A montage of her time at DGC replayed like a short film in her head. Had she been nudging her way deeper into the folds of the label without even realizing? There had definitely been times when she hadn't kept her lips zippered shut. As she'd gotten more comfortable at work, she'd offered her opinions on more than one occasion when they had seemed called for. In private niches that held only one or two employees, she'd never been afraid to make remarks about certain clients, scattering her knowledge about the industry and music itself in bits.

"Here, I'll give you some advice," Todd said. He gestured towards Reagan's chair and after a moment's hesitation, she sat down again. He leaned across his desk.

"Don't discredit yourself," he instructed. "Open your eyes a little. Dave isn't the one pulling strings, not anymore. You made a name for yourself without realizing it. I won't deny that being married to the person that you're with gives you some leverage around here, but that's not enough. Can't you believe for a second that I see something in you? Even if you don't see it in yourself?"

She didn't know what to say. Her fingers twisted themselves into knots in her lap as she turned over what Todd had said, suddenly feeling like a major idiot. The entire time, she'd evidently been fighting against an imaginary unjust assumption about herself. In fact, she was the only person to blame for shunting herself into a corner as Dave's wife, slapping the title over her own head and presuming that everyone saw her as so. Her own doubts had been the one to betray her in the end.

Which in turn meant that she'd bitten Dave's head off for virtually nothing.

Reagan took a deep breath, filling her lungs to the brim and resisting the urge to shake her head at herself.

You dumb bitch, she thought. She had discovered a new talent that she possessed, a talent for self-sabotage.

"I believe you," she finally uttered. She rolled her shoulders back, trying to muster the return her assured confidence.

"Good," Todd said. Her looked at her with appraising eyes, maybe waiting for more pushback on her end, but once he saw that she'd finally stripped away her preconceived notions about why she was there, he smiled calmly.

"I'm guessing that means you're ready to take on more responsibility?" he pressed.

"Well . . ." Reagan chewed the soft inner skin of her bottom lip.

"Good lord," Todd bit off, raising his fingers to his temples. "Do I have to compose a song and dance for you to listen to me? Or should I call Dave?"

"No," Reagan said instantly. God, no. "Don't call anyone. I wasn't going to say no, I was just going to mention that I don't know how much I can really do for you. I don't have the capacity to travel right now. If Dave was at home, maybe, but he's away so much and I can't leave my daughter with a nanny. She needs at least one parent at home."

"We need you here, actually. Every major label across the continents are fiending to find the next comparable thing to Nirvana. It's big right now, this whole 'grunge' movement, it's what listeners want to hear. Seattle is a good place to start looking, considering the success we've had with bands coming out of the Pacific Northwest. Pearl Jam, Soundgarden . . . no doubt there are more bands like that lurking around, waiting to get signed."

"So I could stay? I wouldn't have to leave?"

"I'm guessing it's out of the question for you?"

Reagan shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "Right now, yes. Maybe when Gracie gets older, but that's years away."

"California is another obvious market for this kind of thing," Todd said. "Los Angeles, would of course —,"

"No, not Los Angeles," Reagan said, cutting him off.

Todd snorted, though he retained his smile. "The City of Angels isn't for you?"

That was an understatement. Reagan had never been to L.A., though she'd visited northern California with her family when she'd been in elementary school. California was a far cry from what she was accustomed to, with its barren, rolling hills and dry heat. L.A. was a whole other story. She sneered at the idea of living so close to the nation's focal point of wealth and celebrity, where empty-headed stars studded every block and designer food was an actual thing. She preferred the grayness of her Washington skies and the plight of rain and cold, even if it meant having perpetually pale skin.

Washington state was home. California, specifically L.A., was a hell hole that she refused to be dragged to, even if she were kicking and screaming.

"I like it here too much," she supplied. "Seattle is home, now."

"Understood. We can make it work. Are you ready to make things official?"

It was a loaded question, but the answer came easily to Reagan, settling on the tip of her tongue without forethought. Perhaps she had known the answer all along.

"Yes."
__________

When Reagan got home from work, the house was empty. She walked through the door and removed her shoes, calling out for Sarah, but no reply came. The living room was spotted with Gracie's toys and the television was off, an oddity since that had come to be Sarah and Gracie's rallying point during the day.

A pinprick of worry jabbed at Reagan as she looked around, waiting for Sarah to pop around the corner with Gracie toddling at her heels. Sarah never left the house unless an off day came along where she felt like taking Gracie to the park or into the city for ice cream. If she did ever leave, she would always let Reagan know of her plans beforehand.

"Sarah?" Reagan called, roaming into Gracie's room. The lights were off and there was no sign of Gracie.

Now properly panicked, Reagan dashed back out into the living room, her chest beginning to heave.

It was every mother's worst nightmare. Her child snatched when she wasn't looking, right into the hands of ill-willed monster. And Sarah too, she could have been in trouble . . . had the house been robbed?

Reagan was starting towards the phone when her eyes scanned the glass doors that led out back. In one of the chairs present on the elevated deck, she could see the outline of someone sitting, their head lolling to one side. It was Dave.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Reagan pried the doors open and walked out into the cool, evening air. In the distance, Elliot Bay stretched out in an expanse of dusky blue water, rippling under the haze of dying daylight. She might have paused to take in the sight of it, but she staggered into an unknown object blocking her way. It collided with her knees and toppled over and the clang of guitar strings being disturbed rang out. One of Dave's Gibson's now laid flat on the deck.

The commotion woke Dave, who opened his eyes lazily. Reagan abruptly noted that Gracie was on his chest, her legs and arms slung around his waist and her cheek pressed right to his breastbone. Her tiny rosebud mouth was just barely open, half her face mushed against Dave as she slept. Immediately, Reagan found that she did not want to wake her from the peaceful state that she was in.

"If you're still mad at me, you could have said so. You didn't have to take it out on the guitar," Dave said, his voice hushed so as not to stir Gracie.

"Sorry," Reagan murmured. She crouched down and righted the neck of the Gibson against Dave's chair. "It came at me first."

In spite of the uncertainty of Reagan's mood, Dave offered her a small smile. He shifted slightly, placing one hand on Gracie's back to keep her steady.

"I forgive you. So does the guitar."

His words stung like the beat of cold rainfall against her face. Reagan lowered her head in shame, realizing that she'd been waiting for this. She had been anticipating his forgiveness all the way home, hoping that it would come easily after everything she had said to him. He was forgiving her for the wrong item of abuse, though. A knocked-over guitar didn't encompass all that Reagan wanted to be forgiven for.

She slipped into the empty chair beside him quietly and removed the plastic band at the base of her braid, combing through the plaits and watching the cloudy skies. It was difficult to know where to start. Her embarrassment was too overwhelming.

"I was playing for Gracie," Dave said, explaining himself as he looked out into the distance. "She fell asleep, so I took a nap with her."

"I see."

He closed his eyes again tiredly and stroked the tips of his fingers against Gracie's onesie-clad black. He looked exhausted, which only worsened Reagan's guilt.

"Dave, I'm sorry," she finally whispered. "I didn't mean to freak out on you last night. I shouldn't have been so quick to judge you."

"You don't have to apologize. I'm over it."

"I do have to apologize. I was wrong. You were only trying to help, and I was being a prideful ass. I talked to Todd today. He said that you weren't the only reason for all of this. He said that they'd already noticed me."

"Mhm," Dave said between his lips. They turned into a smile, his eyes still closed. "How could they not have noticed you?"

She reached out and touched his arm. The contact of their skin meeting brought her immediate warmth. "I should have handled it better."

"It's fine, Reags. I get where you were coming from. You don't take handouts. You'd think I would have known that, being married to you and all. I overstepped. I'm sorry."

"Please don't say that," Reagan whispered tightly. "Don't say sorry when you shouldn't have to."

"I want to," Dave insisted. He opened his eyes and angled his line of sight towards her. "I never wanted to hurt you and I did. I made you think that you weren't worth the promotion on your own."

"I did that to myself. I turned the whole thing into something it wasn't. I'm the one who should be grateful that you care enough about me to go out of your way."

"It didn't feel like I was going out of my way. I was just making sure that they knew what they had right in front of them before it got away. You're special. You shouldn't be sitting behind a desk answering phone calls when you're worth more than that."

Reagan leaned across the distance between them and kissed Dave's cheek. It wasn't his lips, which would have been comparably better, but it was tender enough to let him know that she loved him. She loved him as much as she ever had.

"Thank you. Thank you for believing in me. It was . . . a really gentlemanly thing to do."

Dave laughed, the motion causing Gracie to shake on his chest. "Do you think my mom would have let me leave the house as a kid if I didn't learn how to be a gentleman first?"

"Well, you are. You're rough around the edges, but it works."

"Hey," he scowled, "I try, okay?"

"Yes, you do."

He jutted his face out expectantly, which Reagan took as an invitation to finally kiss him. Their lips met softly and she closed her eyes, feeling every muscle in her body contract and relax.

"So, did you say yes?" he murmured against her mouth.

"I did. I am officially leaving the desk and joining the world of artists and repertoire."

"It's a great fit. You're an artist and you're great with music. You're good at creating rapport with people. I don't think I would have dated you if it weren't for your rapport."

"Yeah, alright. If I remember correctly, not a lot of rapport took place in that broom closet."

"It was a different kind of rapport."

Dave stretched out his neck as far as it would go without disturbing Gracie to kiss along Reagan's jaw, his hair tickling her cheek as he did so. She caught her breath and then suddenly remembered something Todd had said to her in their meeting.

"Todd said that when he talked to you, he could tell you were in love with me," she told Dave. "What did you say to him?"

"You want the PG or R-rated version?"

"Dave!"

He laughed again and drew away from kissing Reagan's face. "I didn't say anything that I wouldn't say to anyone else asking about you. I told him the truth."

"Define 'truth.'"

"The truth is that you're the most special person in the world. You understand a lot about music, but the important part is that you love it. I told him we would have never ended up where we are if it hadn't been for music. It's a part of who you are. When you talk about it to someone, even a stranger, you make it so hard not to fall in love with you. They're even more shit-out-of-luck if they see you play. Then they're really in trouble."

He was melting her inside and out. She could feel the flush of it throughout her body, draining precisely into the center of her chest where her heart was nestled. Her heart, which irrevocably belonged to him and would never change hands for as long as she lived. That she was sure of. The universe had pushed them together and now, no matter how many other people walked the earth, Reagan was sure that she would never be able to love another soul in the way that she loved Dave.

"You're making me blush," she mumbled.

He reached out and caressed her cheekbone with his thumb, grinning ear to ear.

"That's what I'm here for."