It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia.

A nightmare jerked Bristol awake. Her hands trembled; beads of a cold sweat ran down her back and moistened the skin just above her brow. The quick pulse within her chest matched Bristol’s ragged breaths as she tried not to wake Danny. He lay beside her, his head resting gracefully on the pillow as his chest rose and fell in an even rhythm. She envied him; why had she been the only one robbed of the simple task of peaceful sleep?

Pushing the heavy duvet off her warm body, Bristol swung her legs off the bed before resting her feet on the cool hardwood floor. She rested her elbows on her shaky knees as she ran her fingers through her damp hair. Bristol wouldn’t dare close her eyes; although she never saw his face, it still terrified to think this stranger haunted her dreams. She let out a self-soothing breath as she trekked into the bathroom. With Danny still asleep, she didn’t turn on the light. Running the cold water in the sink, Bristol splashed her face and dabbed it dry with the hand towel that hung on the towel bar. Bristol had appreciated Danny’s taste in décor. The matching towels, organized vanity and semi-messy closet made her realize living with him was like living with a male version of her own self.

Bristol had yet to decide whether that was a good thing or not.

Feeling calmer than she had just two minutes ago, Bristol left the bedroom unable to put herself back in bed. It was nearly four in the morning anyway; maybe she would run on the treadmill and catch the beginning of the news back in Chicago on WGN-America. Thankfully, none of the steps creaked beneath her feet as Bristol yawned her way down. Through the windows in front, she could still see the darkness of night. It wouldn’t be long until the dim light of dawn began to flood the quiet New Jersey town.

In the kitchen, Bristol was surprised to find the light above the island to already be on. Her eyes adjusted as she made the other body out to Claude. Maybe she hadn’t been the only one with sleep troubles. Not a word was exchanged between the pair as Bristol filled a glass with water and slipped into one of the bar stools. Both were still tired, not in the mood for any deep conversation. Bristol watched Claude as he smothered two pieces of wheat bread with chunky peanut butter and neatly placed banana slices into the rich spread. “You want half?” He asked. Bristol didn’t have much of an appetite but the sandwich reminded her of Nick. They ate peanut butter and banana sandwiches throughout most of their grade school days.

“Yeah, thanks.” Bristol took a sip of her water as Claude grabbed a paper plate and knife. He cut it diagonally before handing her half over.

She thanked him again as both took a bite. Claude’s words were muffled, but Bristol understood what he was trying to say. “Couldn’t sleep either?”

“Nightmare,” she tore a piece, “it’s the same one I’ve been having since I was like, sixteen.” It was a vivid dream which taunted her sleep, but the problem was every time Bristol would try to tell someone about it, or describe the man chasing her, she could never remember any details.

“Reoccurring dreams. I studied those in my high school psychology class.” Claude finished eating before Bristol. He got up to pour himself a tall glass of milk. “Can’t remember anything I learned though.”

Bristol agreed. She had taken the class too while at Lincoln Park, but her time there felt like a blur. Four years of lost memories; the only thing she did remember was that she had better things to do than sit in a classroom all day. If it hadn’t been for her thirty-two year old boyfriend—who would later become her husband—a powerful man in the corrupt City of Chicago, Bristol would have never graduated.

It always amazed her what some people would agree to when money was waved in their face. It was also he who had gotten her into DuPaul; the Assistant District Attorney didn’t want the citizens to know his girlfriend/wife was a party-animal with no real ambitions. After two years, Bristol told David to fuck off; she was tired of living in his shadow and transferred to NIU. From there, the rest is history.

“Well,” Claude interrupted Bristol’s train of thought. She blinked her eyes, bringing back to reality. “I’m headed back to bed.”

Bristol bid him goodnight, she had no intentions on heading back to bed herself. She’d sleep till noon if she did. Watching Claude climb the stairs, Bristol waited for no particular reason but once he was out of sight, she jumped up. Tossing the plates away, putting the tie back on the bread; capping the jar of peanut butter. She gave him props for remembering to put the knife in the sink. No matter the age or maturity level, Bristol found all males had a hard time cleaning up after themselves.

Grabbing a cold Red Bull from the fridge, Bristol popped the top, letting the sweet energy drink slip down her throat. It was too early to make coffee; everyone was still sleeping and if she made a full pot, Bristol would end up drinking it all before Danny even stirred. In the family room, Bristol settled on the sofa. The XBOX and its games littered the floor; the boys had forgotten to pick it up when they left and the mess has since gone untouched. When the television screen lit, the flickering light glowed in the open room while the low hum of voices spoke of a new diet pill. Changing the channel, Bristol found an infomercial about an interesting new blender.

After a long night of drinking, Bristol wasn’t allowed to watch television. Kris had learned that the hard way; his apartment quickly became filled with crap she bought over the phone via The Home Shopping Network.

She had had enough of paid programming after a good two hours. The sun was low in the sky, giving way to a pink, orange sky with a few scattered clouds. If the temperature didn’t get too hot, Bristol had a feeling it would be an over all comfortable day; good for shopping. She was leaving for Mexico in a little more than twenty-four hours. Danny hadn’t taken the news lightly but Bristol knew it had to be done. She did it like taking off a band-aid. Quick and painless—except it hadn’t been painless.

Turning off the tube, Bristol headed down the hall to the room which had been made into a gym. If Danny and Claude weren’t in Voorhees or playing outside with the boys, she knew she could find them in there. Lacing up her running shoes, Bristol stepped onto the machine and started warming up. She was no longer lethargic but she wasn’t like Danny who could go right into a full sprint if he wanted to. He was always trying to get her to go running with him along the beach.

Bristol flipped through the channels on the flat screen until she found something remotely interesting to watch. On any given day she would settle on cartoons but, she wasn’t feeling like herself and focused her attention on the news, rather than the burning in her calves.

By her third mile, Danny had woken up and almost caught up to her on the treadmill beside hers. Bristol was beginning to curse herself for accepting his five mile challenge. Although she had been a mile and a half ahead of him before he started, Bristol had a feeling he was going to win. He had completed three miles in 30 minutes. Looking to her left, Bristol couldn’t help but stare. Danny had removed his shirt only ten minutes in to the run; her eyes followed the beads of sweat that rolled down his sculpted chest. The muscles in his abdomen tightened each time he increased the speed.

A crooked smile toyed with Danny’s lips as he looked over to Bristol. She was struggling. He wished she would have worn shorts, but the fitted yoga pants hugged her hips and thighs. It didn’t take long for him to notice that the sports bra she wore under her tank-top did little to keep her breasts down. “How are you doing?”

“Fuck you.” Bristol pulled the sport-top of her water bottle open with her teeth before squirting it. She swished the water around her mouth before swallowing. Glancing over to read his machine, Bristol knew she was going to lose. He was half a mile ahead of her; there was no way in hell she was going to now. Her legs were going to hate her in the morning; but she had a swimsuit that had to be worn.

It took Danny five minutes to finish the last half mile, he cheered himself to victory and somewhat enjoyed the look of defeat on Bristol’s face. She didn’t lose often. Slowing down to a cooling walk, Bristol wiped the sweat off her face with her top.

“Well,” her breath was ragged, “since you won, you can make me breakfast.” Bristol stepped off the machine and offered a sassy smile while pulling the top off her torso. She could tell Danny was straining to catch a glimpse in the mirror as he found the right set of weights. Her skin was flush; Danny could almost taste her salty skin on his lips as he imagined kissing up her belly, through the valley between her breasts before finally nibbling at the flesh on her neck. He had no problem making her breakfast. In fact, Danny almost dropped a dumbbell on his foot because he couldn’t rack it fast enough to get into the kitchen. It was the last day he would see Bristol for another week, and he planned to make every second count.

The entire house filled with a sweet aroma as Danny finished another batch of pancakes. He could feel his own stomach growling for food as he waited patiently for Bristol to emerge. It always amazed him how long it could take a woman to get ready in the morning. But, when he realistically looked at reality, it did make sense Bristol would be slightly slower considering there was still a cast covering her dominate hand.

Danny glanced at the clock, it was almost eleven. He had dozed off a little longer than he had planned to after his run. Now it seemed it like he was working on borrowed time. Sylvie would be dropping the boys off in a couple hours. With Bristol leaving the following morning, he asked his ex-wife to bring the rugrats over a day early so they could spend some time with her. Danny would never admit it, but he couldn’t help but misplace the slight feeling of jealously when it came to Bristol and his boys. Since they had been gone, Caelan, Carson and Cameron—mainly Cameron—had called her more times than him to wish her a goodnight or bid her a good morning before heading off to school.

With her hair slicked back in a tail and dressed comfortably in jeans and a tee, Bristol smiled as she sat down. A hot stack of pancakes steamed in front of her as she took a deep breath through her nose, savoring the aroma. “They smell good; I guess you don’t need me to cook anymore.”

He hopped she was teasing. If it weren’t for Bristol and/or Claude’s “cooking” skills, he’d be stuck eating cereal and toast. Danny thought she looked adorable—like a teenage girl—as she tucked her legs underneath her while smothering her pancakes with butter and real Canadian maple syrup. Every year for Christmas Danny always made sure his mom FedEx’d a few bottles. It was easy to grow sick of the processed syrup he found in the isles of the local supermarket.

“What time are they boys coming over?” Bristol took a sip from the orange juice Danny placed in front of her. She was getting way too comfortable in the Brioux household, the thought of having to leave scared her.

Danny took the chair next her, placing his hand on her upper thigh as he cut into his food. He felt Bristol begin to slightly wiggle under his touch. “Around two. I wanted to make sure they had enough time to hang out with you.”

“Sweet!” Bristol unconsciously slipped back into a teenage mindset, Danny wasn’t surprised, and by standards of society she still was an adolescent. “My brother, Sean, sent me Black Ops, I haven’t had a chance to play it yet and I’m sure the boys would like to. And, I’ll make sure I’m home by then, I still have a few errands to run before I start packing.”

Danny still wasn’t too keen on the idea of her going to Cabo. It wasn’t Daniel who scared him; Danny knew she’d stay away from him. Jeff Carter, her roommate, was what had almost given him an anxiety attack. When he expressed his concern, Bristol had given him an answer he hadn’t quite prepared himself for.

”Who do you think you are, my father?

He’d be lying if he said it hadn’t bothered him. When he first laid eyes on her Danny knew the age difference was a problem. Bristol was looking to have fun; drink tequila, sun-bathe in a two-piece and stay up all hours of the night. While she was there, he’d be stuck in Philly. Playing mister mom—washing, cooking and cleaning. He also had a golf tournament to plan for his charity.

Getting up, Bristol grabbed her plate and placed it in the sink. She hummed to herself while looking for her shoes and bag. “I should only be gone two, three hours.” Bristol kissed Danny’s lips, an action he had not expected. “Au revoir.”

Danny kneaded the paper napkin between his fingers as he felt his cheeks burn. He repeated the French goodbye, he was surprised he could actually talk; his brain had become paralyzed. Bristol fished her car keys from her bags as she waved him goodbye—Danny made himself a mental note to replace the Blackhawks lanyard her keys held with a Flyers one. When she closed the door, he left out the breath he had been holding. Danny rested his chin in his palm as he made swirls in the syrup with his fork. Under his breath, Danny whispered the words he wished he had said instead, “Je t’aime.”