He's motionless, nearly suspended in time while I watch him, and he seems to forget to blink as his eyes remain focused on the TV screen. The news anchor moves on to a story about wildfires in northern California, but Phoenix doesn't appear to notice. He finally does blink, but other than that, he still doesn't move. After what must be a full minute of him standing in the center of the kitchen, holding a forgotten plate in his hands, I put my mug on the table, get up from my chair, and approach him.

"Hey. Are you okay?"

The gentle touch of my hand on his shoulder brings him back to our current surroundings. He looks at me, and recognition and awareness return to his eyes. His chest rises and falls when he takes a breath and lets it out.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to let the food get cold." He continues on his path to the table and sets the plate down. I follow him there and am about to sit again, but he places a hand on my shoulder this time. "I'm fine. I just didn't expect that."

He holds my gaze for a few beats, almost like he's trying to convince me, or maybe he's trying to convince himself. What I see in the depths of his eyes sends a twinge right through me, like some sort of sympathy pain. Then his hand falls away, and he returns to the counter to grab the other plate, along with forks and knives. I sink into the seat and try not to make it obvious that I'm observing him in my peripheral vision.

He seems present in the moment and collected now, despite what I just witnessed, and even though there has been a detectable shift in his mood since a few minutes ago. But when he joins me at the table and passes me the cutlery, there's the slightest tremble in his fingers. It reminds me of when I asked him if he thought Len was alive during our coastline cruise on my birthday. No, he isn't fine. Not totally.

I get it, because the news has to be jarring. He must be wondering what the break in the case is, if it means Len has been located, and if she's dead or alive. If it was someone I'd been close with, I would be out of my mind. I set the fork and knife beside my plate, then reach over and cover his hand with mine. He looks into my eyes again. What I glimpse in his now isn't what I saw before, but it tells me he received the unspoken message that I'm here for him if he wants to talk.

He turns his hand so we're palm to palm and runs his thumb along mine. His touch is steady, reassuring me that the emotions that momentarily had him in their grip have passed. When he draws his arm back and reaches for his fork, I mirror him and do the same, and spear a piece of egg from my plate. After a minute, he speaks again.

"Have you heard from Ava since last night?"

It takes me a second to follow the change in subject. When I register that we're talking about Ava, and presumably about her well being, something in me softens even more. Here we are, confronted with the announcement about a break in Len's case. It's clearly brought up raw feelings and unanswered questions, and yet he still wants to check on Ava, even though he's aware it wasn't that long ago when she would have volunteered to pour concrete into his shoes if someone had wanted to throw him off a bridge, and she still isn't exactly sunshine and warmth in his presence.

"You really are concerned about her, aren't you?" It's again reminiscent of how protective Torin is with me. There's something oddly sweet and endearing about this, and it's why I hold back on repeating what I said last night about Ava knowing what she's getting into if something happens between her and Nash.

"I am. It might end up being my fatal flaw."

I can't help but laugh. "You and me both," I assure him. "Yes, though. We texted earlier. She stayed at Torin's house last night. She said she passed out in his guest bedroom, even though she didn't think she had that much to drink."

His eyebrows lift at that, and his jaw tenses. It's a curious physical response, since he should be happy to learn Ava didn't hook up with Nash, but maybe it's a knee-jerk reaction to hearing Torin's name.

"She's okay today?" he asks.

"She seems to be, but all I know is what she put in her message. I'll get the full story from her later. The main thing is she's fine, and no, she didn't spend the night with Nash. It sounded like Torin didn't think she was in any kind of shape to decide about leaving with him." I pause for a moment, then give him a teasing smile. "It's proof he isn't only overprotective of me."

Phoenix nods, and I can't tell if it's relief that eases the crease between his eyebrows, or approval, or both. "That's not always a bad thing. I think Torin and I might agree on something in this case."

"Careful," I joke. "The next thing you know, you two will be best friends."

This elicits a smile. He reaches for a slice of toast. "I'd settle for him not wanting to tear me from limb to limb when he sees me with you, but that's on me and I don't blame him."

The smile fades as he takes a bite and chews, and his eyes hint that he's retreated into more serious thoughts. Discussing Torin, Ava, and Nash, the memories of last night before we left Torin and Nash's show, and the news report about Len are all sobering reminders that our lives aren't contained solely within these walls, even if everything else but the two of us faded into the background for a while. I would give anything for a few more blissful hours of forgetting the rest of the world and holding on to how things were when we woke up today, and to distract Phoenix from what neither of us has an answer to and can't control.

It could be my selfish desire to sustain a more playful mood for as long as we can during the limited time we're together this weekend, or maybe it's the oxytocin still flooding my brain. Whatever the reason, I don't hesitate to nudge his foot with mine under the table to get his attention, or to fix my gaze on him and say the first subtly suggestive thing that comes to mind.

"Torin has to get through me if he wants to lay a hand on you. I'm pretty invested in your body staying in one piece."

He swallows his bite of toast, contemplating me, and I congratulate myself when I spot the sparkle of mischief in his eyes and upward pull of his mouth.

"Any parts of my body in particular?" He nudges my foot back and leaves his resting against mine.

I shrug, doing my best to appear angelic and completely innocent. "We could go through them one by one after we eat."

"Tempting. Are we going to make it out of the house today?"

"Outside is overrated," I inform him. "There are all those other people."

"So you're telling me no return visit to the Strip or a Cirque du Soleil show tonight?"

"Any acrobatics this weekend will not involve stage performers, thank you."

"Hmmm. Who should that involve?" He strokes his chin, and I can tell he's doing his best to look serious, but he's failing.

"If you have to ask, I should probably pack up and go home to L.A."

Phoenix doesn't reply, but instead pushes his seat back and gets up from the table. I assume he's going to get himself a cup of coffee or something else to drink, but he stops when he's behind my chair. He bends down to drop a kiss on the crown of my head.

"Please don't, unless I'm coming with you. Monday is already too soon."

He presses his mouth to my hair again, then slowly straightens up. His soft footsteps make their way across the kitchen, and I listen to him put a coffee pod in the Keurig and then the sound of water streaming into a mug. All kinds of responses flit through my mind, mostly along the lines of how much I already wish he was coming with me when I go home, and different ways to ask if he has any updates about when he'll be done with what he's working on here. Those are all too serious for me in this moment, though, and perhaps he senses what I'm thinking, because his voice breaks into my thoughts.

"Does this also mean you don't want me to take you to Thunder From Down Under?"

I turn my head and catch his impish grin. God, I missed the way we used to kid around with the greatest ease, exactly like this.

"I handed you the acrobatics comment, and you totally dropped it. You'd better not be fishing for something about male stripteases now, or who should be part of that."

"You thought about it, though."

I shake my head, watching him saunter back to his chair, mug in hand. "You are trouble, and I'm here for all of it."

The truth is, I really am. Even after the drama of last night, and even with the news about Len, there's something about being with him and doing the most mundane things, like sharing a meal, which makes me feel a kind of contentment I can't put into words.

༺☆༻ ༺☆༻ ༺☆༻

By the time we finish eating, Phoenix has convinced me we should leave the house for a very non-specific time span of "a little while," hinting at something he would like to show me. When it's clear that's all he will disclose and that he would rather leave our destination shrouded in secrecy, I stop asking questions and focus on the effort of showering and getting ready for what's left of the day. Vegas may technically be in the Pacific time zone, but it definitely runs according to its own offbeat clock.

He comes upstairs with me and shows me where the towels are. There's a moment when I'm tempted to pull him into the bathroom, my mind conjuring up long ago flashbacks of us showering together, but I doubt we'll make it out the door today if that happens. So instead, I command my body to chill out for a bit, collect the travel bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and body wash I brought with me from my bag, and leave Phoenix where he's perched on the edge of the bed, reading something on his phone.

After I shut the bathroom door and start to run the water, I think I hear him say something. I shut the water off again and approach the door to ask him if he can repeat what he said, then hear him speak more clearly this time and realize he's talking to someone on the phone and not to me.

"What's going on?" I hear him say as I return to the shower. "Is everything still cool, or should I be worried?" There's a pause, like he's listening, and then he continues speaking. "Today isn't good. My girlfriend is visiting from L.A. Can we try for Monday, or is that too much of a risk?"

That's when I remember the text I saw earlier. He must have seen the message and probably called Dalton. It sounds like a business conversation from what I overheard, but his question about if he should be worried and if waiting a couple of days for whatever they're discussing is too much of a risk are flags for me. I hope he isn't jeopardizing a job or something related to his career because I'm here.

I debate waiting for him to wrap things up on the phone and telling him this, or mentioning it after I shower, but then decide against it. Only he knows what's best for him and any upcoming work, and besides, he doesn't know I saw the message or that I'm eavesdropping on his phone call right now. I should relax, enjoy the day and what he has planned for us, and stay out of it.

Besides, I'm a little too schmoopy and in the clouds about overhearing him call me his girlfriend to someone else. It's silly, especially since we defined that last night and I realize I'm behaving like an infatuated teenager, but I can't help it and I'm not about to put a damper on how incredible this feels. All I want between now and Monday is to bask in this beautiful afterglow with Phoenix for as long as we can, and to savor every second of being together.

༺☆༻ ༺☆༻ ༺☆༻

Any ideas about where Phoenix, our favorite planner of surprise and secret romantic outings, plans to take Del? (*plasters face with a mysterious expression*)

I don't really have an author's note beyond that for this chapter. I only want to say thank you, as always, for being here and reading as this story continues to unfold. I love and appreciate you all!