With both hands holding tight, Eva tried to whip the light blue sheet into the air with the hopes of floating it neatly down like a parachute over her and Mason's bed. As a girl, she'd watched her mother do it once a week with an ease and efficiency that seemed to her could only be magic. But Eva could never get it right. The sheet lashed out and caught the mattress, bunching to one side, forcing her to circle around the bed, tugging the sheet into place.

Eva knew she wasn't a particularly good homemaker. She never had a need to be. Living on her own, she had learned to accept wrinkled, uneven sheets as a part of life, as a part of her own limitations, that needn't be corrected or worried over. And when she lived with Ghost, clean sheets and towels arrived on a weekly basis, with a certainty that she'd never questioned, the same way she never much questioned how the clothes she dropped on the floor one night, appeared cleaned and pressed, hanging in his closet the next.

But she and Mason's relationship didn't break down into the traditional roles her parents occupied in their marriage. They shared responsibility in their apartment, and while things weren't perfect, for the most part they were fine.

Eva bent over and finished tucking the last corner of the sheet beneath the mattress. With palms flat, she leaned forward and smoothed the sheet, trying to eliminate the ripples that appeared. It was good enough. Though she wished it were better. She straightened, set her hands on her hips, and looked towards the pillows that waited on the floor. There were some people who didn't have to do this. Did Eless change her sheets? Did Fio? Maranya? Probably not. Maranya was rich, wasn't she? If she wasn't before, she certainly was now, now that she had married two of the wealthiest men in RhyDin.

But why should Maranya have to change her own sheets? She was a successful career woman, wasn't she? She'd earned it. Eva sighed and sat on the edge of the bed, then flopped onto her back and stared at the ceiling. There was a part of her that was jealous. Not of the marriage. The marriage she didn't understand. Whatever made them happy was fine with her, of course, but it raised a lot of logistical questions that she couldn't get clear. Did they share a bed? Share a house? Would Alper move to Antonio's palazzo? Did the three of them sleep together? Take turns? Were they going to start a family? Did Antonio and Alper even like each other? Would they care if they weren't sure who was the father of a potential child? Did Antonio and Alper combine their finances? With all of that money though, would it even matter? Eva just didn't get it, she really didn't understand what exactly made their relationship a marriage, but in the end, it wasn't any of her business, was it?

Eva squeezed her eyes shut and pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes. Gold stars burst behind her eyelids and she watched them like her own personal light show.

It wasn't the marriage, or the money. Eva was jealous of the clinic. Jealous that Maranya had built not just a career for herself, but an institution. When Maranya had lost her license, Eva wanted to feel a kinship towards her, wanted to reach out and offer support, but deep down she'd known all along that it would only be temporary, that with her money and connections, Maranya'd be practicing again in no time. It may have seemed like an eternity to her to go without practicing, but to Eva, it was barely a blip on the radar. How long had it been for Eva? More than ten years at least. Almost fifteen.

Eva sighed and sat up. It didn't matter. She was an accountant now. Not a doctor. If that meant that she had to change the sheets every week for the rest of her life, that would be okay. Most people changed their own sheets. They washed their own clothes, cooked their own meals, and cleaned their own toilets. That was real life. And it was hers. Eva looked to the floor, sighed and pushed off the bed. Time to do the pillows.

Valentine?s Day had snuck up on Eva. In the midst of the usual how-was-your-day discussion, Mason dropped it like a wrecking ball: Valentine?s Day was on Monday. Ever since, Eva?s mind had been turning over ideas. Even when they agreed not to do anything big, Mason always did something sweet and charming, and since they had date plans, Eva?s guard was up. She had to do something. Anything.

Now, even after she had settled on an idea, she struggled. The plan was to write him a love letter. She knew how much it meant to him when she said the words, when she could get them out, when she could tell him how she felt. Even though he insisted that he could tell by all the things she did, she knew how much he liked it when she said the words. But writing it was even harder than she imagined. If she couldn?t say the words aloud, how could she write them down?

Every moment she could steal away, she was in her office. Working on a yellow pad of paper, she was drafting her letter. It began the way most begin. Dear Mason, but beside that she?d tried other options. Dear Biscuit, To Mason, To My Biscuit, All of those were crossed out, and only the first was left, the sole surviving salutation at the top of the page. Dear Mason,

Beneath was a long series of thoughts and phrases, mish-mashed, crossed out, over written, in places becoming more like a laundry list of things she liked about him. Her thoughts were chaotic. She?d put something down, then feel silly about it and cross it out and move on, leaving strings of independent comments, connected to nothing, a stream of consciousness ramble.

I like the way you make my oatmeal. I like the way your hair looks funny when you wake up in the morning. And the way you always make sure to be home on Wednesdays cause you know those nights are hard for me. I love watching you with my nephews. I like that you sit with me while I garden. And the way you help me find things in the kitchen. You never complain about having to go to the fridge to get ice for my bourbon even though you don?t drink yours with ice. You smell good, even when you haven?t smoked a cigar, but I like it when you do that too. You let me put my cold feet against your legs in bed. I like it when you put notes in my lunch, and I like the way you make grocery lists for me cause they?re easier for me to understand with all the directions, I like that. I love the way your beard feels on my neck. I love that you?re not embarrassed to hold my hand. I like it when you clean my gun for me, and when you remind me to get refills for my inhaler. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and you?re snoring a little, and I really like that cause it helps me fall back asleep. And I know you wake me up when I?m having a nightmare so I don?t have to dream bad things, and I never get to say thank you for that cause I?m sleeping, but thank you for that. I love dancing with you, even when we?re just fooling around at home. I love that you like real Christmas trees. You?re so good, your heart is so good, I never get to say that, but not everyone sees that.

The letter, such as it was, continued on for three pages like that. Once Eva was done she frowned at it, trying to figure out how to put the things she liked together into a presentable love letter. She flipped between the pages, trying to figure out what should go first, what sounded good. But it just wasn?t working, and too frustrating.

On Monday morning, she ripped the pages from the yellow legal pad, and hung them up on the fridge before heading out the door. She?d left them, just as they were, the entire mess of them. Only thing she had added was to the last page. Love E.

?I think he?s coming around.? Mason?s eyes fluttered open, his eyes trying to focus as confusion robbed him of remembering where he was. The first things that registered was that he was looking right up at a woman?s chest. Normally this would have been a good thing, it was a nice chest.The v-neck gave just a glimpse of cleavage. His head was throbbing. He was also aware of a hand holding his tightly. He knew it was Eva?s hand.

As the fog was lifting his brain started piecing things together. It was the cartoon figures on the shirt that covered the chest he was staring at that triggered it. Baby dragons and trolls, all of them with bright sparkling smiles and wielding giant toothbrushes. Then it all came flooding back to him.

It had taken a little bit of patience and cajoling when Eva had come home one evening and he could tell something was bothering her. He could tell she was struggling with something. When she finally got herself to ask the question he was relieved. His answer came quick, of course he?d go with her. Of course he?d sit there with her and hold her hand. Of course he would.

Now, as he was laid out on the cool hard floor he realized he should have mentioned that these places made him a little nervous too.

Mason had thought he was doing fine. He wondered why it felt so warm in the room as they sat down and got started. He wondered how they could work for hours wearing the mask and goggles they had insisted he wear if he was going to sit close enough to hold Eva?s hand. The longer he sat there the harder it seemed to draw a full breath through the fabric of the mask.

Then there was the sounds and smells. That minty covering over a layer of antiseptic. The discourse between doctor and assistant as they worked was hard for him to hear over the thundering of his own blood rushing through his body as his heart pumped faster. The sound of metal rasping against bone and tooth cut through that thunder though.

Mason wiped his damp brow on his sleeve and tried to look calm as he gave Eva?s hand a reassuring squeeze. But it was so hard to try and hold her gaze as that fiend, the dentist, aimed what looked like a flattened ice pick into her mouth and started to dig at her tooth. Mason blinked rapidly. Just exposing the roots?!? The assistants running commentary of what the dentist was doing wasn?t helping. She made it sound matter of fact even though to Mason it looked like he was trying to drive that thing through Eva?s jaw.

The worst sound of all was the drill. It?s high pitched whine simply screamed of pain and torture. The whine modulating as the dentist cut through the tooth, Mason held onto Eva?s hand. ?I got you, babe.? Surely this must be hell for her. Despite the mask, the water the drill was spraying out and the evacuator the assistant was diligently using in Eva?s mouth Mason could still smell the acrid scent of pulverized bone, tooth, whatever it was it made his stomach churn.

But he made it through all of that. They were in the home stretch the assistant assured them. The dentist just had to pop the sectioned tooth out. It sounded easy.

Mason?s eyes widened as the dentist picked up the extractors. Wait. What was easy about jamming a pair of pliers into his woman?s mouth?!? Well, they looked like pliers to Mason.

He stared at the dentist?s forearm, watching the muscles bunch and the arm twist as he pulled the section of tooth and root free. There was no gush of blood. No stream of crimson down the dentist?s arm as he pulled the instrument out of Eva?s mouth and held up the tooth and root so he and his assistant could examine to make sure the root was intact and he had gotten it all. Very little blood in fact. Just a vague coating of red on the root. But the sight of it all, it was just too much.

A wave of dizziness crashed over Mason, his breathing stuttered and his eyes rolled back. He was still clutching Eva?s hand as the tide of it had him slipping off of the stool and onto the floor. The last thing he heard was Eva?s voice. The word slurred because half her mouth was anesthetized and the tip of the evacuator had sucked itself to the inside of her cheek when the assistant had let go when she tried to reach to stop Mason?s fall.

?Mashuun!?

The assistant crouched down over Mason, she pulled off his mask and checked his pulse. She patted Eva?s arm. ?He?s fine dear, just fainted.? There was more than a hint of amusement in her voice as she looked at the dentist as he got back to work in Eva?s mouth. ?You owe me twenty, Doctor. It?s always the big brawny ones that fold like a house of cards.?

?I think he?s coming around.? She looked down to find Mason blinking then staring at her chest. ?You get a good look there, big boy??

Mason?s hand squeezed Eva?s, he was okay. ?Uh, yeah. They?re nice. Uh, what happened??

The assistant stood up and stepped over him. ?You fainted, sweetie. Now you just stay there. Looks like you bumped your head. The doctor is almost done.? She went to the counter and returned with a small paper cup of water. ?Drink this and just try to relax.?

Mason took the cup and drank it down. He glanced up at the chair beside him where Eva sat. ?Babe?? She squeezed his hand in reply, she was fine.

Later the assistant was going over the discharge instructions. ?Use cold compresses until the throbbing stops. Ibuprofen or tylenol for pain and make sure to take it easy. No bending, lifting, that sort of thing.?

Mason pulled the icepack from the bump on his head and glanced between the assistant and Eva. ?What about Eva??

?Oh.? She giggled, she actually giggled then handed Eva a list of home instructions. But she addressed Mason when she spoke again. ?Now don?t hesitate to call me if you have a problem.?

Mason slipped a quick glance aside to Eva. He could see her eyes starting to narrow. ?Okay, thanks. We?ll call if she has a problem.?

He walked Eva outside to wait for the cab the assistant said she had called for for them. Mason looked at Eva, his brow furrowed with a bit of worry. He pulled a sucker the assistant had given him out of his shirt pocket, pulled the wrap off and tucked it in the side of his mouth.?How are you feeling, babe?? This was all about her, after all.

Eva just stared at him as he stood there with his cheek puffed out because of the sucker.Their cheeks looked the same. But she?d had a tooth pulled, he didn?t. No, he got candy.

Mason pulled the sucker out when he saw the look she was giving him. ?What??

?You got candy.? The words slurred full of accusation.

Mason smiled around the sucker stick and reached into that pocket again. He had a few more. ?I got some for you too, when you can eat them.? Sure, the assistant had given him more because he had said she had a nice chest, but Mason?s intent was to get the candy for Eva. That?s all that mattered.

The cab arrived and Mason helped Eva into the back seat. As it moved along to take them home Mason looked over at Eva. ?How many wisdom teeth does a person have??

?Four.? She hoped this would be the only one that caused a problem.

?Four?! ****.? Mason groaned inwardly. Three more times of this, he hoped not. But then he saw the despondent look on Eva?s face, which looked more pitiful with her swollen cheek. Mason lifted his arm and curled it around her shoulders to pull her close to his side.? Don?t worry, babe. Now we know. Next time we bring a pillow.? He thought a second. ?... and bourbon.? He squeezed her with a hug, his voice a gravelly whisper just for her. ?I got you, babe.?

When Eva left for work on Thursday morning, she left Mason's Valentine on the counter next to his keys. It wouldn't look like much at first -- just the morning paper. On closer look, however, the paper was actually a few days old. She had folded it open to the classified ads. And around one particular ad, Eva had drawn a heart with thick, red marker.

COMMERCIAL REAL ESTATE 4 RENT:
Prime West End storefront. Reception + 4 offices + storage.
Apprx. 1600SF. Ideal for doctor/lawyer.
AVAIL NOW! 1ST MO. FREE!

Eva hadn't written anything beside the ad. She hadn't baked him cookies like she had the previous year. And she hadn't left a love note like she had two years prior. No, it was just the ad, surrounded by a heart. But she hoped it spoke to him.

Thank you. I love you. I'm listening.