like the Marvin Gaye song

He was waiting for his daughter. He hadn't understood all the secrecy, but if she asked for it, he'd give it — a father would do anything for his daughter — though a text asking to meet for coffee that her mother couldn't know about had struck him as a little alarming. Maybe it was for a surprise or something; he wasn't the planning type. That was usually his wife's department.

The terrace was nearly empty. Nice day out, his coffee was going cold, and his girl was running late. A man approached — young, big, handsome — and sat down across from him.

"Sorry, I'm waiting for—"

"Your daughter. I know."

He didn't like the sound of that at all. Where was she? Every alarm bell in his head started going off. The young man held the back of his right hand up in the air. He saw the ring.

"I'll kill you." The coffee cup shattered against the table as he shot up from his chair — a father's fury has no equal anywhere in the universe.

"Her too, in a minute, and that little tramp friend of hers, I knew it, knew she was a bad influence, told my wife so, she said no, but I knew it, and now this — how could she do this to her mother? Some guy we've never even met, no word to anyone, after everything she dreamed of for her — this is going to break her heart, I don't even know her anymore..."

He kept pointing at the man, who didn't flinch, just stared at the ground, looking more sad than anything. And if something bad had happened to her, and this was him coming to break the news — panic surged through his whole body.

"Is she okay? Tell me she's okay, you son of a bitch, or I'll gouge your eyes out."

"Completely fine. She doesn't know I'm here — took a lot of work giving her the slip and getting you here at the same time, a lot, you know her."

That calmed him slightly — at least this guy knew her — but the ring was still too much.

"I need you to hear me out first, and then, if you want to hit me, I won't fight back — but I hope it doesn't come to that, for everyone's sake."

He considered hitting him first and dragging the rest out of him by force. Changed his mind.

"You'd better tell me something good."

"I love her. With all my soul. That's the first thing you need to know. You don't have to believe it, but it's true."

Its Something, at least.

"I used to be... an awful man. The worst kind. To everyone. Her included—" Not helping his case. "The exact kind of man you swore to protect her from the day you watched her born. But she... has no resentment in her, no cruelty, nothing that isn't love. I was a genuine son of a bitch, and instead of giving me what I deserved, she gave me a smile that lit up my whole life. You know what I'm talking about. I'm sure of it."

"...Yeah."

"And she asked for nothing in return. But you already know that — you know there's only one thing a wretch like me could possibly do, when given so much for so little."

The man kept turning the ring around on his finger. He understood him. His murderous rage started to ease, a little. For now.

"If you're even a fraction as sharp as she is, dancing around this isn't going to get me anywhere." He really did know her.

"That, she actually gets from her mother."

"That's why I'm here. She doesn't want me to come, but she misses you — both of you. She wants you back in her life for real, without having to hide what makes her happy, how we live at home."

"Jesus Christ, I'm going to kill that whore..." He pressed his hands to his temples, his imagination running wild.

"I know her mother will understand — she's a mother, after all, and there's nothing your girl could do that would scare her off. I was a poor excuse for a son myself, and my mother never gave up on me, not for one second..." He paused. "I lost her. Too soon."

Questions piled up in his head — he didn't know if he wanted answers, or if he just wanted to kick down a door and drag his little girl straight home.

"I'm planning to bring your wife, let her see the place — I swear on my mother's grave, no one will lay a hand on her. I just want her to see how her daughter lives. How happy she is."

"...It had better be true."

"And afterward, your wife will come back, and you'll have to do what every husband married to a woman of that caliber has to do — close your mouth, listen, let her do whatever she needs and wants to do, and protect her along the way. I know you're a man of God, so I'm asking you to have faith in God, and in how present He is inside them... far more than in us. In your daughter especially — it's like He speaks through her smile sometimes. Clear as day."

That comforted him. The man didn't seem to be lying — seemed like a believer himself, and knew what he was talking about. His girl was a blessing from God, without a doubt. It stood in stark contrast to the depravity running through his head. Maybe it wasn't as bad as he'd feared.

"I'm here for her, because she's carrying a very difficult job, and when she's ready, she'll tell you about it herself. She's going to need everyone close — everyone who loves her, and there are a lot of us — and I swore to serve her, till death set us apart, and if it depends on me, beyond"

He had courage, he had faith, and he loved his girl. Still wanted to punch him, though.

He thought about it a while, and simply nodded.

"I'm glad. You have no idea how glad. I have to believe we're capable of change — all of us, every last one — for them... and if someone like me could manage it, a good man like you, a good father, a good husband, should have it easy. I needed the most incredible creature in the world to fall into my lap, sent straight from a higher power. Others won't be as lucky. But we have to try."

He sighed.

"...She is really an angel, isn't she" he said to the stranger — his son-in-law — who rolled his eyes for some reason.

"Had to come from somewhere," he muttered.

He was nervous. She couldn't smell it, but she could see it — hadn't expected him to pull something this crazy so soon, but he was clearly up to something, and if he wasn't telling her, it was because he didn't want her to suffer over it. But "till death do us part" was non-negotiable — she was going to get it out of him if it was the last thing she did.

Her husband sat up in bed — that tattoo would never stop amazing her. She'd thanked the artist for it, many times, in many different ways. She'd taken to using her incredible skills too — the feather now sat between her shoulder blades. She'd tried on that red dress from their first date, the one with the open back, ten minutes after Helen finished it — thought it looked elegant, everyone did, even Nick eventually admitted it was beautiful, then added that basically anything on her skin turned into a Diego Velázquez painting. She hoped he never stopped saying things like that.

"How well do you know your mother?"

"Oh no... what are you planning..."

"Hey, I got the damn wings and everything, have a little faith."

"...Sorry."

"You say you know how much they love each other."

"A lot. My dad, he also... stand by every word — my mom still blushes at her age, it's almost a miracle these days, maybe is an actual one, I don't know, I try not to go down that road, it's endless."

"And do you think..."

"I have no idea, hard to even think about, as you can imagine, but I'm not worried."

"I am."

Jennifer burst out laughing.

"I don't think she'd jump you. She'd stare, that's a given, can't be helped — unless your not into men."

"A hundred percent sure?"

There was the sound of a car in the distance, coming up the drive.

"Two hundred percent. She's been married for three centuries and hasn't so much as looked at another man. Believe me, she's simple in that particular department."

"Yeah, well, until she isn't...I'm suddenly feeling the urge to run like Usain Bolt."

"You're terrified — wait. What?"

"Get dressed. Modestly. Just in case."

"What did you do, Nick, my father..."

"Already handled. He's a good man — pretty terrifying temper, but he loves you like crazy, loves your mom too. They'll be fine. Though I think we're going to have to get married 'properly' at some point — could be worse."

"This is too much, Nick, you can't—"

"Relax, it's just your mom coming — I hope. If she changed her mind, I really hope the whole three-bullets-to-the-chest thing is true."

The questions started piling up fast — no time. She sprinted for the closet.

"Why, why would you do that, Nick, this is so reckless."

"Because you need them. You think I'm an idiot... and I am, and I'm late to the game, but I'm here now, and now that I'm here, the games are over. Your dad and I understood each other — he knows what it's like being married to an unstoppable force of nature. And when your mom gets home, she's going to keep his mouth shut and give her whatever she asks for. End of story."

She stared at him from the closet, frozen.

He tried to sense her mood — prayed she wasn't terrified. Instead, she smelled like enough need that he wanted to take her right there among the hangers — a shame there was no time. The doorbell rang.

"Well, aren't you handsome."

"Mom..."

"What, a woman has eyes."

She was the spitting image of her daughter — well, her daughter was the spitting image of her, technically — older, though not by much, with gorgeous ice-blue eyes. She'd aged in a way that seemed almost impossible given her actual years. For Nick, planning to grow old alongside his wife, that was excellent news; he felt a little shallow having that thought, but hey — no matter how much insight into femininity got poured into him, he was still a sack of testosterone underneath it all. Some things never change.

"Thank you." He was actually terrified, trying not to show it.

"I was expecting a hippie commune, but this is really nice — it's like an English manor. How can you afford all this?"

"Alex makes a lot of money. The house belongs to Rose — her family's."

"And you?" She looked at him.

He opened his mouth, but his wife beat him to it.

"He doesn't. He's busy the whole time, nonstop."

Her mother raised an eyebrow.

"With you."

"With everyone."

Nick wanted to bury his head in a hole for two weeks straight.

"Ah-ha..."

Well, she hadn't run for the door. That was good. But that "ah-ha" had weight behind it.

"It's... different, yes. We're married, and yes, we love each other very much."

"That's what your father thought too, but—"

"He's not lord of the manor here, if that's what you mean, it's just... natural here. I do it too, Mom. Everyone does what they want, girls, guys, doesn't matter, the important thing is being happy."

"There aren't any other guys here though." She was already showing that signature familiar sharpness.

"That's why Alex is the one making the money, and he's got this full-time job — but it's more than that, Mom, way more. Stay the night, talk to the girls, you'll see what I mean."

Caroline sighed.

"Well, sweetheart, if you're happy, I'm happy — but I won't lie, the secret wedding was like a knife in the chest..."

"There wasn't a wedding," Nick finally worked up the nerve to speak. "But there will be, if that's what you'd like — I mean, if it's what your daughter wants. I just loved her so much I couldn't wait to bring you here and explain how this all works. It's my fault, I hope you can forgive me someday, but she only wanted to make me happy. Please don't think badly of her." In that moment, he could smell his wife — how much she loved him rushing to defend her. He'd do it every thirty seconds if he could.

"Well, would you look at that, you've even got a lovely voice when you decide to use it."

The level of intimidation Nick was experiencing was completely off the charts.

"I don't know how you talked my husband into this, but you must have something."

"We just talked."

Her gaze was piercing, probing — just like her daughter's, but full of devoted warmth for him underneath it, and the pale blue color didn't help with the terror at all.

"That's what he says too, and he doesn't know any specifics, but he knows this isn't an orthodox marriage in any way, shape, or form, and you're still standing here alive."

"Barely, but people can talk things through. He's a good man."

"Yeah... he is, but not exactly open-minded."

"Give him time miss Miller."

"Call me Caroline, please, you're making me feel old."

"I don't know why, you two could pass for sisters."

"Ha... flatterer..."

He almost called her a pervert right there out of pure instinct. Jennifer shot him a look — she'd panicked for a second.

The day went on. They showed her the house and grounds, and she talked to all the girls, everyone more covered up than usual that day, even more than the first day Helen arrived. She was a genuine detective, pulling exactly what she wanted out of each of them. She seemed to relax pretty quickly once she saw firsthand how happy everyone was, how they did whatever they wanted, on every level, how safe they felt with Nick nearby, and how satisfied when he was very nearby — except Helen, for obvious reasons. Caroline and Helen connected easily; she asked her every question imaginable, having never known an openly gay woman before. Jennifer loved that — figured it was a good sign that her mother took the same approach with her husband. Though she also used the opportunity to grill her with questions about him, figuring that since Helen was the only one not sleeping with him, her opinions would be the least biased. She was Jennifer's mother through and through, inside and out — no question about it.

"Fine, I give up, you all seem happy."

Caroline had caught him hiding out in the kitchen, and now they were talking at the table — Nick genuinely liked it there more than anywhere else in the house, except the bed he shared with his wife, even though he had zero ability to actually cook anything. Something about it comforted him — ever since remembering his mother cooking, being in a kitchen made him feel close to her, somehow.

"I'm glad. We are happy."

"There's something..."

"Since the moment she walked in the door, it's like the weight of the world lifted off her. She wants to do things she didn't know she wanted, or wanted and had buried."

"That's... exactly right."

"That's what we do here — and what we can't do outside, because it'd be dangerous. We're looking for a fix for that, but it's complicated."

"How, I figured it'd be like the Marvin Gaye song, but nobody's touched me."

"Your daughter already told you that part's incidental — what do you want? What do you desire — I mean, if that's not too personal..."

"I don't have any interest in sleeping with a woman, if that's what you're asking. Or with you."

"Thank god..." He let out a breath.

"Though I understand why she loves you so much."

"I don't, but I stopped asking myself that and just decided to devote myself to making her happy no matter what."

"You sound just like her father. Even say the same dumb things... don't ever stop saying them to her, okay?"

"I stand by every single one."

"God, you're making me... miss him. In fact, I'm not staying the night, if you know what i mean."

"Of course. Look — I this is going to shift how you see things a little. Your husband, I'm sure he'll resist at first and then end up thrilled once he sees you happy, but the rest of us can't be sure of that. Be careful, and get straight to this house the second you sense anything's off, or call me and I'll be come flying."

"So that's wheat the wings are for."

"...Shit."

"There's a photo in Helen's studio. You should have seen my daughter's bedroom as a hormonal teenager — those posters were divine. Literally."

"It's... it's a gift for her, yeah... god, so embarrassing..."

"It's something more, isn't it. The feathers, the fact you're not telling me why I've suddenly got the urge to throw myself into my husband's arms like I'm twenty years old again, or sign back up for singing lessons, and I'm not setting foot in church again on a Sunday."

"It's complicated, and hard to believe. Jen will tell you herself, whenever she thinks the time's right — I'm not going to get into it. But it's good. Very good. Only good things come out of this house, I swear."

"I believe you. There's just one thing... look, I want grandkids, you know, but..."

"Yeah, we've talked about it a few times, this isn't the place, we know that. We have plans, but there's still a lot to do... honestly, I wish there wasn't so much left to do... I want it. More than I want this, sometimes, believe it or not."

"That's good, very good. Now call me a taxi, urgently."

"Yes, ma'am."

They walked her to the door.

"Never mind, it's really just a formality at this point, doesn't feel as important anymore. What matters is that you two love each other. Really."

"But if you want the wedding, Mom—"

"No."

"You don't have to leave, stay."

"No, things to do."

"Please be careful," Nick said.

She grabbed his cheeks and planted a loud kiss on him.

"Oh... what gorgeous grandbabies I'm going to have."

"MOM!"

She walked off toward the taxi, laughing. Nick started banging his head against the door frame.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck."

"What's wrong with you now?"

"She smells almost exactly like you."

"And?"

"And she misses your father — a lot, a whole lot. You wouldn't be able to walk straight."

"Oh — ooooh, wow, good for Mom."

"Yeah, but it's incredibly weird — every other time I smell this exact thing, it means you're about to jump me. That's your MOTHER, YOUR MOTHER."

He was about to genuinely hurt himself against that door.

Jennifer completely lost it, laughing uncontrollably.