I awoke to the sound of the quick rap of knuckles against my door. I wearily squinted one eye open to look at the time. 7:30 am. I leaned into my pillow groaning before shoving the blanket off with one foot and twisting out of the bed. My foot got caught in the sheets which resulted in half of my body lying on the floor and my legs up on the bed. I sighed in frustration and kicked myself free, grabbing my robe off the chair next to me and walking to the door.

"Morning, Mr. Greggs," I greeted, yawning half way through my sentence.

He paused, taking in my appearance, "Good morning. Did I wake you?"

I shook my head waving him inside as I walked into the kitchen to brew some coffee, "I was getting up anyway."

I pulled two mugs out of the cupboard and set them down on my countertop, waiting for the coffee like a drug addict waiting on a high.

I noticed Mr. Greggs clinging onto a piece of paper that I gestured at, "What do you have there?"

He smoothed out a paper on my island as he took a seat, "This is a newspaper clipping."

I gave him a long stare, "Are you still collecting newspaper clippings?" I filled his mug with black coffee and slid it in front of him.

"Everyday," he responded taking a long sip.

"That's a strange habit, Mr. Greggs. I hope you know that."

He shrugged indifferently, "I thought this one might interest you." He passed the neatly clipped newspaper story to me, taking care not to crease the edges as he did so.

I reciprocated the gentleness of his touch on the paper and delicately read the title. Local small town sheriff, Ryan Johnson, being presented Medal of Honor. I looked up in surprise.

"That's your dad isn't it?" He asked.

I nodded, "He didn't mention anything to me. That's so typical." I could just hear my dad's voice telling me he didn't do the job for the clout it brought him, but for the justice it served.

I continued to read, "The Medal of Honor is being presented in his connection to the retrieval of TV famous judge Elliot Stevens' seven year son - kidnapped and held for ransom for twelve hours. Sheriff Johnson led a rescue team in the retrieval of the seven year old, unharmed. Kidnapper Louis Tosle will likely feel the grip of the justice system as he faces penalties against a judge's wrath.

I grinned at Mr. Greggs, "This is amazing!"

He chugged down his black coffee before standing up, taking the newspaper from my hands like it was a fragile piece of art and holding it flat against his palm. "I thought you might like it." He walked towards the door, "Anyway, I just wanted to stop by. Have a good day." He opened the door and hobbled out, paper in hand.

"See you, Mr. Greggs," I called before closing the door shut.

I pulled out my phone and scrolled for my dad's number before calling. He answered after the first ring.

"Good morning, Emily," he greeted, the sound of papers rustling. At the office again.

"Hello, Mr. Medal of Honor," I greeted. A knock sounded at my door and I opened it to see a bouquet of roses sitting at the entryway. I looked around and didn't see anyone so I brought the flowers inside, shutting the door behind me.

"Ugh. Don't remind me," my dad groaned. He hated the pomp involved with his job.

"That's what happens when you do a good job," I teased feeling around the flowers for a card. My fingers met with a stiff piece of card stock paper. I tugged it out. Miss you Emi-bear (these flowers did cost a lot, so maybe consider meeting up with me for dinner).

He was relentless.

"Now I have this judge on my back, calling me everyday to thank me for my services. Offering me cars and houses. Interested in a Hawaii getaway?" He joked.

"Yes, please." I placed the bouquet on my kitchen table. There was no reason I couldn't enjoy the flowers just because they were sent by my cheating, moronic ex who couldn't take a goddamn hint to save him life.

"Well, pay for it yourself because I don't do the job for clout-"

"-but for the justice it serves," I finished, deepening my voice to make my point. "I know dad. You literally say it constantly. I should get you a bumper sticker with that quote."

"I do not," he muttered.

"Well, I'm proud of you regardless. It's an amazing thing." I told him honestly.

"Thank you, Emily. I love you."

"Love you too," I replied before hanging up.

I showered and changed quickly before making my way to the bus stop and over to Daniel's with an extra large coffee in my hands to combat the fatigue.

I knocked on his door and wasn't disappointed to be greeted my a happy, grinning Daniel. I grinned back, his smile contagious.

"Good morning," he pepped, wheeling back to give me enough space to enter.

"You ready for your appointment?" Daniel had a physical therapy check up to make sure that he was doing what he needed to be doing.

He shrugged, "as ready as I'll ever be."

We left the condo and stepped onto the bus, "What are your plans for your date with Rebecca?" I asked as I sipped my now lukewarm coffee.

"I'm thinking dinner at Claire De Lune," he mused.

"Fancy," I responded. "How are you getting there?"

"I'm going to hire a chauffeur." He declared.

"That's.. excessive."

"And get her flowers," he continued.

"Very gentlemanly," I responded.

"And chocolate," he added.

"Hopefully not from your already existing stash."

"And a necklace?" He inquired.

"A tad overboard," I laughed.

"I'll wear my black suit and maroon tie," he hummed.

"Very snazzy."

"I'm going for hot, here Em. Like smoking, can't keep our hands off each other, hot." Daniel corrected.

"I don't know if it's legal for me to comment on your physical features."