Remember When

insurance cop's car was at the end of the drive with Laine's.
    Eyes narrowed, he studied the house. No lights glowed in the windows. It was near two in the morning. A man's car was parked in front of his daughter's house.
    His little girl was... he searched for a word his father's mind could handle without imploding.
    Dallying. His little girl was dallying with a cop. To Jack's mind a private investigator was just a cop with a higher annual income than the ones who carried badges.
    His own flesh and blood, with a cop. Where had he gone wrong?
    With a huge sigh, he stared down at his feet. He couldn't risk breaking in a second time with the PI in there. He needed privacy, damnit, to talk some sense into his Lainie.
    Cop had to leave sometime, Jack reminded himself. He'd find a place to stash the car, and wait.
    ***
    It was a testament to her love, Laine concluded, that nudged her into altering her morning routine in order to see Max off at five forty-five A.M. She liked to think it also demonstrated she was flexible, but she knew better.
    Her routine would snap right back into place once she and Max became more accustomed to each other. It might take on a slightly different form, but in the end, it would be routine.
    She was looking forward to it and, thinking just that, gave him a very enthusiastic kiss at the door.
    "If that's the goodbye I get when I'm only going to be gone a day, what do I have to look forward to if I have to be out of town overnight?"
    "I was just realizing how nice it's going to be to get used to you, to take you for granted, to have your little habits and quirks irritate me."
    "God, you're a strange woman." He took her face in his hands. "Am I supposed to look forward to irritating you?"
    "And the bickering. Married people tend to bicker. I'm going to call you Maxfield when we bicker."
    "Oh, hell."
    "I think that'll be fun. I really can't wait until we fight about household expenditures or the color of the bathroom towels." And as that was perfect truth, she flung her arms around his neck and kissed him enthusiastically again. "Travel safe."
    "I'll be home by eight, earlier if I can manage it. I'll call." He pressed his face into the curve of her shoulder. "I'll think of something to bicker about."
    "That's so sweet."
    He eased away, leaned down to pet Henry, who was trying to nose between them. "Take care of my girl." He hefted his briefcase, gave Laine a quick wink, then walked to his car.
    She waved him off, then, as promised, shut the door and locked it.
    She didn't mind the early start. She'd go into town, take a closer look at her stock to see what she might want to transfer to her home. She'd take Henry for a romp in the park, then make some calls to see about repairing some of her damaged furniture, and make arrangements to have what she considered a lost cause removed.
    She could indulge herself by surfing some of the bridal sites on-line, drooling over gowns and flowers and favors. Laine Tavish was getting married! Delight had her doing a quick dance that inspired Henry to race in mad circles. She wanted to buy some bridal magazines, but needed to go to the mall for that, where she could buy them without causing gossip in town. Until she was ready for town gossip.
    She wanted a big, splashy wedding, and it surprised her to realize it. She wanted a gorgeous and ridiculously expensive dress. A once-in-a-lifetime dress. She wanted to spend hours agonizing over flowers and music and menus.
    Laughing at herself, she started upstairs to dress for the day. Snapping back into place, she thought. Her normal life had taken a hard, unexpected stretch, but it was snapping right back into the normal. Was there anything more normal than a woman dreaming about her wedding day?
    "Need to make lists, Henry. Lots and lots of lists. You know how I love that."
    She buttoned up a tailored white shirt, slipped on trim navy pants. "Of course, we have to set a date. I'm thinking October. All those beautiful fall colors. Rusts and umbers and burnt golds.
    Rich colors. It'll be a bitch to get things organized in time, but I can do it."
    Imagining, she twisted her hair into a single French braid, tossed on a jacket with tiny blue-and-white checks.
    A romp in the park first, she decided, and slipped into comfortable canvas flats.
    She was halfway downstairs when Henry gave a series of alarmed barks and raced back up again.
    Laine froze where she was, then rolled to her toes as her heart slammed against her ribs.