This takes place on Valentine's Day 2019. It was supposed to be up on that day, but I spent the week in California and I woke up sick on Thursday, so between sleeping that off and my flight home publishing got delayed.

Chapter nineteen is the last chapter of part two (or three, depending on if you're going by publish date or not) of my Afterward series. There will be one more. It will take place after the events of A Conflict of Parallels, so if you haven't started that or haven't finished that, I would do so if you plan to read Part Four. It is partially written, but it deals with some topics that are difficult to write about (no one dies, happy ending, I promise) so I can't say when I will start publishing it. But look out for it if you're still around. Thanks to everyone who is still reading and reviewing. I hope you're enjoying my version of this show's future even a little bit as much as I am writing it all.

One final note: I know I owe some of you reviews. I owe even starting a story to some of you. I won't bore you all with my personal sob stories but I will promise that those reviews are coming.

It was raining. Some considered that romantic. Others felt uneasy, as if precipitation really did forecast (ha) the onset of bad luck.

Paige just viewed it as an inconvenience, especially since they had plans to walk to dinner. Thankfully, Walter had brought an umbrella to work that day. He was quite pleased with his foresight. Paige found that weirdly attractive.

"I apologize for the somewhat cliché plans," Walter said. "But I know how much you love checking out new restaurants, and this one has very nice reviews."

"Toby and Happy's plan is to revisit their historically inaccurate role play," Paige said. "Toby told me this quite delightedly before they left. I am down for a nice dinner knowing that was a potential alternative."

"Ah yes," Walter said. "He gave me a briefing of their plans as well. Right down to how they're out of condoms but don't technically need them, so and I quote 'we're just gonna go for it like a couple of reckless kids'."

"Watch her actually get pregnant," Paige said with a laugh. She touched his hand. "The adoption of Tad will be finalized soon. I haven't asked how that's making you feel."

"I suppose I haven't allowed myself to think about how I feel about it," Walter replied. "It isn't a fun feeling. But you were right – what, what you said before. Even if we'd stayed together, he still would have been theirs. I was caught up in a fantasy that I projected onto him that stemmed from my desire to have children in general. With you."

"I would hope with me," she said, bumping her shoulder against his as they walked.

"I know it's too early to talk about it," he said. "I'm not asking you if you're keen on it."

"I am, though."

He looked at her. There was an eagerness in his eyes. "You are?"

"Yeah," she said. "I don't mean let's go home and 'go for it like a couple of reckless kids' or anything. But we're only in our early thirties. We have time. And if we decide to adopt, our age won't matter quite so much." She grabbed his hand and squeezed it. "You know I wanted more children."

"When Ralph was younger. I wasn't sure if that extended to now."

"I don't know if I knew that either, to be honest," she said, laughing quietly. "At least not until recently. But I do. I do."

"Speak of 'I do'," Walter said, "let's get married first. Then talk about it more seriously."

"Yes. Decide which route we want to take. And then…"

"Go for it like a couple of reckless kids?"

"Sans the Marilyn Monroe and Sir Lancelot costumes our friends are breaking in tonight."

That got a laugh from Walter that Paige could only describe as hearty.

"Sir! Ma'am!" A teenage boy waved to them from the front of a shop, a broom in his other hand. "We have a special for Valentine's Day, on roses."

"Is this because it's Valentine's Day or because you're close to closing, it's raining, and you ordered too many?" Walter asked.

"Walter," Paige warned through her teeth.

The boy smiled. "All four, actually. My name is Joey, come on in."

"Your name tag says Scott," Walter said.

"Oh. Yeah. Funny story. So when I got here this morning – "

Paige watched as Walter's eyes glazed over, but to his credit, he did give a pro forma chuckle when Joey (turned out he was actually Joey) finished his tale, which was likely only funny if you were either Joey or Scott. At least, from the information at hand, it definitely was not funny to her or Walter.

Walter, who she was apparently starting to think like.

"Any big Valentine's Day plans tonight?" Paige asked. "Joey?"

"Nah. I don't really like Valentine's Day," he said. "I think you should love and appreciate your partner every day, and not just on some Hallmark holiday. This is an antique store. I don't know why we're selling roses today, but hey."

"That view is certainly one way to look at it," Walter said. "However, I have come to think that disdain for the holiday due to how you feel about your relationship isn't the best interpretation. Of course you love the person every day. But acting as if things are supposed to be happy and easy on twenty four seven basis is unrealistic and can lead people to believe that if their relationship isn't completely perfect all the time, that means something is fundamentally wrong. Paige and I have bad days. We fight. We disagree. That's part of being in a relationship. It's part of being human. But when I spend Valentine's Day with her, it's a time to celebrate that we make it through things like that." He looked at her and smiled, handing her the rose he had selected. "Because we're worth it."

"Aw, Walter," she said, her eyes soft. She wrapped her arm around his. She found herself realizing that line of thought applied to their team, too. Not just Ralph. Not just any children they might have in the future. But everyone. Cabe, Allie, Happy, Toby, Tad, Sylvester, and Florence, too. And if she knew Walter as well as she thought she did, his words were meant to be about her and about the family they had created with the others.

"Of course," Walter added, turning back to Joey. "Your description of Valentine's Day as 'some Hallmark Holiday' implies part of your derision comes from a place of criticism for capitalism and how it encourages people to be material, and I think that is a valid concern."

Florence was angry at herself for inviting Sylvester to spend the night on Valentine's Day.

No, that was wrong. She was angry at herself for pumping herself up to have the conversation she wanted to have on Valentine's Day. Who knew how long she would lose her nerve for if she didn't go through with it now.

But it was either do it now or wait. Toby and Happy had headed off over two hour ago, meaning they were likely already engrossed in their weird actress/knight story. Paige and Walter would be well through their dinner already. Cabe and Allie, given the hour, were probably asleep.

Which left Scorpion's newest power couple. It had been a long day, especially for her and Sly, as the case they were working on was much heavier in numbers and chemistry than any of the others' primary skillsets. She was bushed. Despite the likely intimate activities of the other couples, Florence had little interest in an encore of her and Sylvester's previous foray into a sex life tonight and she was getting strong vibes from her boyfriend that said encore was close to the last thing on his mind.

Although the idea of actually doing stuff in a bed was appealing. Perhaps tomorrow, if they slept well tonight.

Of course, she wasn't going to sleep at all if she didn't just get out what she needed to tell him.

"Valentine's Day is quite interesting, isn't it?" Sylvester asked. He'd gotten her flowers. They were pretty. "Considering the brutal fate of the saint the holiday is named after."

"There were actually three Saint Valentines who were martyred, perhaps even more. The history of it is quite interesting, if you're into that sort of thing. Which I'm really not. But I recognize the validity of it as a research topic for others."

"I didn't know there were that many," Sylvester said."

"Yeah." Florence wiped her sweaty palms on her pants. The cast of Monty Python and the Holy Grail screamed at her in her head. Get on with it. "So anyway. I realize…I didn't realize it was Valentine's Day. I mean, I did but I didn't realize…I had pumped myself up to talk to you and now I'm thinking today is a bad day to do it, but at the same time…"

"Hey." He sat down on the bed, his body language relaxed. Welcoming. It put her at ease, if only slightly. "Talk to me."

"So. I've been conflicted about something over the past few days."

He cocked his head. "Yeah? About what?"

Florence wrung her hands. "So…Megan. Your wife. You and her had this really…special relationship."

"Yes…" Sylvester's expression made it clear he was trying to jump ahead, to figure out where this was leading, and he was having no luck.

"And you've said you have no regrets with her. And I wish I could say the same thing, about us, but I don't know, I can't identify if I do or not, because I'm still not entirely sure…"

"Florence?"

"Uh. Yeah?"

"I have anxiety. If you're going to break up with me, please just say so."

Florence gave an exasperated sigh. "I'm not going to break up with you. I love you."

When Sylvester's expression changed from stressed to surprised, she realized what had spilled out. "I – I mean…" She cleared her throat. "I mean, that's not…that is what I wanted to say, but I didn't want to say it like that. That was…" She felt her face growing hot. "I messed that up. Can I start over?"

Sylvester reached out and took both of her hands, pulling her closer. She stepped between his knees. "You love me?"

She fought the urge to raise her chin, square her shoulders, deflect and brush this off. "Yes."

"And that…makes you conflicted?"

She shook her head. "No. No, I know it. I know it for sure. I love you, Sylvester."

Florence could hear the cautiousness in his voice when he asked, "then what…are you concerned about?"

She let out a long, slow breath, wanting to make sure she could get it out without her voice cracking. "It concerns me that you might think that I only said it because we slept together. That that encounter led me to elevated feelings, or that I feel you can't love someone unless you've been intimate in that way. Neither are true. I had these feelings before that. I almost voiced them several times. After we had sex, I started feeling like I had waited too long to tell you, and then I started thinking about how you never had a physical relationship with your wife, and then…"

"Lori." He squeezed her hands, looking up – an interesting thing for him to do given their height difference when standing – into her eyes. "I will always love Megan. But she was my first everything else. Please don't think that I'm not glad that this first was with you. Because I'm in love with you, too."

"I know. And that makes me…so very happy." She wrinkled her nose. "Though I hate the cliché of saying it for the first time on Valentine's Day."

"Well, I love hearing it," he said with a smile. "No matter the date."

She let go of his hands, sliding hers up to cup his face. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

And I love you, lovely readers.