This is crazy. It's the third time I've done this: hopped on a plane for a flight to Wisconsin. Just so I can go get a cup of coffee. I have been flying over 800 miles and spent $500 each time just to grab a $3 cup of coffee with her.

Helena has no idea I've been flying all this way to see her. She thinks I have been passing through or on a case or any number of reasons I would be in the vicinity of where she lives. No one from the Warehouse knows; well, perhaps Mrs Frederic since nothing seems to evade that woman. I keep telling everyone I'm going to a spa or to see my sister, but am always careful to never mention it when Steve is in the room. No need to set off the lie detector.

Every day, I try to convince myself that I am not trying to deceive: I just don't want to talk about it with them. Pete tries the hardest, but I'm not ready to offer up my emotions to him on this. He's trying to be so supportive; however, I'm not entirely ready to lean on him in this matter. I don't expect them to understand how I feel about her. I don't want there to be something else for everyone to worry about. I got this.

I vary it up, either flying in Friday night to ensure I'm there for Saturday morning coffee or Saturday afternoon for a Sunday morning coffee. Most of the time, I fly in Friday night after getting off work an hour early to be ready for my morning coffee with her. It's juvenile, ridiculous and so unlike me to be playing these little games. Then again, I'm not the Victorian inventor and writer playing house in 21st-century Middle America.

This particular Saturday morning, I'm up early. I read, I lounge around, I walk, I take a shower all before I decide to text Helena. I check out of my room, load my small bag into the car and send a text once I am in the driver's seat.

Passing through. Coffee? Usual place?

A couple minutes pass. My heart sinks a bit, thinking that perhaps she's away or not interested this time. My mind filters through her past statements about her plans and I am fairly certain she's around today. I listen to the radio, tuning in to find NPR or something that won't be playing sappy love songs that keep reminding me of her.

The phone buzzes 15 minutes after that initial text.

I'm leaving now. 10 minutes?

Sounds good - see you then!

The five-minute wait in line alone ensures I am going to smell like coffee for the next few hours and what Pete likes to call "deep-fried goodness." Luckily, patrons are only popping in to get some coffee and donuts to go, so there are plenty of tables throughout the shop. Each time we get together, it's here. Turns out, Helena really likes the coffee rolls. When I order my coffee, I take note of the baked goods on the racks in front of me. Just one coffee roll left. Helena's not here yet. I take the liberty of procuring the last one for her. As soon as I get the largest coffee I can get my hands on, I scamper towards a table in the back, but close to a window. My cell phone is precariously placed on the table, face up so I can be aware of each notification.

I spend a good ten minutes watching customers come in and out, listening to the radio, watching the staff poorly sing along to the pop tunes. Occasionally one or two people will still down just to finish their coffee and donuts, but they aren't lingering like me.

Once she appears at the door, opens it and strides in, she is quickly looking for me at our usual table. I would also know the sound of her boots clicking on the tiles anywhere.

"Myka." My name so pleasantly drops from her lips as I stand up, opening my arms to this flustered and hurried woman before me.

"Helena." I say as I envelop her in my arms. Our hug lasts only a moment, but it seems like forever when I take in all the sensations of having her close to me. I have grown to adore her hugs; her arms hold me to her so tightly each time we greet one another. I love the feel of her against me, even though we touch for only a few seconds.

I sit down and Helena turns her attention to the board with the drinks. "Oh, I almost forgot." I thrust the bagged coffee roll towards her. Helena peers inside and smiles. "It was the last one. I didn't want you to miss out."

"Thank you." she says with a grin and gestures towards the counter, silently walking away to go order herself a drink. I'm patient, sipping my own (now dwindling) beverage as I wait for her to come back to the table. I watch her look at the board with all the drinks listed, she looks indecisive over all the options. Helena stands at the counter, waiting for her coffee, fiddling with her necklace. I watch her fingers twirl through the gold chain, flicking up and down. It's curious to see her do that; I haven't seen her touch the necklace for quite some time.

I wonder if she's as nervous as me.

Helena patiently waits for her coffee and comes back over to the table with her drink and some paper napkins. Once she sits down, she adjusts her shirt and brushes something off her wrist. Watching her motions is a delight.

"So..." I trail off a bit, lost in watching Helena tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. I follow the motion of her hand all the way from the coffee cup to her ear and back down again to grip her drink. Once she has stopped moving, my eyes shift back to her face. I hold my breath for a moment, quickly hiding behind the fact that I need to pick up my coffee cup yet again as a distraction. She totally catches me, but I could honestly care less. Helena does not appear even in the slightest to be bothered by my focused ogling. "...how's work?" I manage to stammer.

Helena lets out a brief sigh and looks away from me. I can't tell if she is annoyed at my question or irritated at the thought of the work she is doing. "It's good, quiet week though. Only one boating incident."

"Only one?" I laugh.

"I have the distinct impression that once it gets warmer, they will increase. Maybe I will even need an assistant."

I take a sip of my coffee and put it back down on the table. Without much thought, I swipe my tongue across my lips to collect some of the coffee that feels stuck to my mouth. Helena's eyes immediately divert themselves from my eyes to my lips. She's watching me ever so subtly; however, completely obviously looking at me, just as I had done when she tucked the strand of hair behind her ear. Her breath hitches once I finish moving around. She's not doing a very good job of concealing her appeal for my errant tongue, inwardly making me smile.

"How are things back h-?" Helena abruptly stops herself.

Oh God. She can't even get herself to say the word. She falters just from nearly saying "home" to me. I silently let her know that I knew what she was going to say by pausing and then just answering her question. "Yeah, things are good." My head nods without really thinking. I try ignore the fact that she almost said "home." Home. As in me, Pete, the Warehouse, Claudia, goo. Endless wonder. When did I get so sentimental? "Met Steve's ex-boyfriend last week."

Her eyebrows raise as she takes another sip of coffee. "Ex-boyfriend?"

"US Marshal." I say and swirl my coffee around again. "Good looking guy too."

"I had no idea."

"That's Steve for you." I chuckle. "We got to deal with some lava in a parking lot in Arkansas."

"Lava? In Arkansas?"

"Yeah. It was an artifact from Pompeii, someone who survived the eruption. I've seen stranger things though - we've seen stranger. You ever been there?"

"Pompeii?"

"No, Arkansas."

"No, can't say that I have."

"Pete loves it. He ate barbecue and fried chicken every day." My mind wanders to thoughts of Pete wearing a checkered bib and gobbling up ribs, chicken and pulled pork at nearly every roadside dive they came across. "I have no idea how he can pack all that away." I say with a gesture to my stomach.

I can tell Helena laughs at memories of Pete with food, those few times all of us sat down at a table together. "You didn't like it?"

"No, not my sort of place."

Helena opens up the paper bag with the coffee roll and sets it out in front of her. "Would you like a bite?"

"No, all yours."

She opens the lid of her drink to expose what smells like almond or hazelnut coffee. Apparently, Helena likes to dip things into her coffee. I had no idea. "Since when you do you dip food in coffee?"

"Since I discovered how delicious it can be." I can't help but smile at her. Chatting with her like this reminds me of when she lived at the Warehouse with us.

And then another part of me asks myself what the hell I am doing sitting here chatting with her like nothing has ever happened, like artifacts, astrolabes, lava in the middle of Arkansas are completely normal facets of life. How is it that we are so unphased by the thought of these things? How can she just be business-as-usual knowing things like this happen and exist? Here we are, both sitting in a donut shop, drinking coffee, eating snacks and chatting like nothing happened the past three years we've known each other.

On the other hand, it has taken me about three years to come to the realization that I absolutely love this woman sitting in front of me; dipping a strand of coffee roll into her drink, tucking strands of raven hair behind her ear, fiddling with her necklace.

We're quiet. Sitting in a fairly comfortable silence. Drinking our coffee, looking out the window, watching parents and their children pick out donuts together.

Which reminds me, I ought to be relatively polite and ask.

"How's Adelaide?" It comes out much faster than anticipated. I'm trying not to sound completely awkward.

"Adelaide is..." Helena straightens up a bit in her seat and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear again. It was already behind her hair, but she reaches for it again when talking. "...doing very well. Last week, she earned her yellow belt."

"Ah." I try to sound enthusiastic. "Tell her congratulations from me."

"Of course." Helena slightly bows her head at me. "She took a liking to you, Myka."

"Me?"

"She's impressed by the badge."

"I think she's impressed by you." Helena coyly smiles when I say this.

I muster up some courage once more. This is the question I always hate asking. I have to ask, I have to be polite, I have to act like I just don't care about that, like it's totally fine that she's living with...this guy. As Pete pointed out to me, jealousy does not suit me well. "And, uh, how's Nate?" I do the best I can to make him not sound like a villain in an evil lair of doom, but I fear I'm failing at it each time. This is always the hardest part of these visits: asking about Nate. Out of spite or my stubbornness, I enunciate his name a little too clearly.

As always, whenever I ask Helena this question, she pauses, looks off in the distance for a moment and carefully selects her words. Rather than answer, she laughs a little, maybe even snorts, then finally speaks. "Nate's...Nate's..." Helena doesn't answer right away. She scratches the back of her neck, her hands move errantly around her head and shoulders. She's nervous, she's hiding. "It's complicated."

I reach for my coffee and it feels unnervingly light. Crap, I'm out of coffee to sip when I'm nervous. What do I do? Go get more or just pretend as though there's coffee in there and keep sipping the empty container?

"Myka." Helena pauses for a moment, thoughts running through her mind, words meticulously chosen, gestures perfectly crafted. "I miss you."

My mind is racing with what to do about the coffee when I realize what Helena has said to me. I do my best to stop my thoughts from taking over everything and focus on her words. That when I realize, I'm not entirely certain what to say. My thoughts are conflicted as I remember weeks, months without hearing from her. Time spent alone, worried about her, wondering where she is. I'm not even bringing into my mind what happened when we showed up in Boone a couple months ago. It would be easy to disregard.

I break down. I get honest with myself and Helena. Fiddling with the corners of my coffee cup, I sigh and stop lying to myself. "I miss you too." I say quietly, avoiding her gaze by looking at the table top. Helena's right hand inches forward over to my side and taps for me to grasp onto her. My own hand saunters forward and our fingers lightly mingle with one another. A sudden boost of clarity and confidence surges through me as we're joined and I look up at her. I've never touched her like this before. The sensation of her skin against my own makes my heart leap. "I miss us."

Helena looks at me. Now she's unsure what to say. Rather than say anything, she tugs my hand and begins stroking the palm of my hand with her thumb. The gestures melt me.

"We haven't really had an us though, have we?" I say with a bit of laugh.

Before Helena can answer, her phone rings, interrupting whatever progress we seem to have been making. She lets go of my hand.

"Hello?...This is she." Helena pauses for a moment and continues listening. "Oh, my...We'll be right there."

"Everything okay?"

"Adelaide. She broke her arm and jammed a couple of her fingers."

"Oh, no. Is there anything I can do?"

Helena looks around, checks the time on her phone and runs fingers through her hair. She always does that when she's nervous or worried. "I, uh...Nate...has the car, so..."

"I can drive you, Helena. That's no problem."

She smiles at me and I return the gesture. We gather together our cups and napkins, tossing everything out at the front door before we head over to pick up Adelaide and take her to the emergency room.

We drive to the kenpo studio in silence. Helena is worried about the little girl, I'm worried about Helena. She knows very well that Adelaide will be alright, but it's the mere thought of her being hurt that shakes her. Despite knowing that the little girl has been hurt, Helena is coping surprisingly well. She now knows how capable Adelaide is.

A couple hours later, Adelaide is sitting in the backseat of my car with her arm in a sling and we're headed back to her house. Honestly, this was the last thing I wanted: to be headed back to that house.

Helena goes to open the front door while I pick up Adelaide and carry her inside, placing her on the couch with a fluffy blanket. "Thank you, Myka." she says with a smile.

"No problem, little lady." She settles down with her book and does her best to ignore all of the grown-up talk Helena and I are having in the entryway.

Helena is concerned, and rightfully so, making this the most inopportune time to finish our conversation from earlier. I so badly want to, but it's not the right moment.

"I wish I could stay longer, but you know, Adelaide needs you right now and..." I shake my head. "I'll give you a buzz next time I'm in the area, okay?"

Her arms quickly go around me, catching me off-guard and resulting in me awkwardly wrapping my arms around her too.

"Thank you."

"Anytime." I am still holding her, not letting go. It's that warm, comfortable, sweet, relaxing everything that she is that makes me completely incapable of letting her go. What am I doing? I pull myself away as nonchalantly as possible. "I have to get back."

"Oh." She's disappointed. I can't linger here, not with Adelaide injured on the couch, and definitely not with Nate bound to be home as soon as Helena tells him his daughter has been hurt. I don't belong in that picture. I don't belong here.

It's never enjoyable to say goodbye to her, never knowing if I can strike up the courage to once again make the flight, rent a car, stay overnight somewhere I know I don't belong and know that she doesn't belong. All I know is that I get to hold her, even if it's only for a moment, before we part ways. For now, those moments have to last a lifetime.

So for a few hours once a month, I get to play my own game of denial. I fear that on one of these visits, the whole truth is going to catch up with me. Perhaps it will catch up with us both.