For you, I do

by holtzbabe

Summary:

Erin's conniving mother cuts her out of her father's will unless she gets married, so she does the only logical thing...and fake-marries Holtz. This can only go well for the both of them, right?

Chapter 1

Erin’s phone won’t stop ringing.

The four of them are out decompressing at their favourite bar after a very long and messy bust. They’re all on their second round except Erin, who has been staring at her first half-finished beer for the better part of half an hour without taking so much as a sip. 

On cue, her phone lights up for the fourth time since earlier that afternoon. Holtz doesn’t have to be a super-sleuth to see the big letters on the screen that say PAULA GILBERT and know that once again, Erin is screening her mother’s calls.

Erin flips over her phone to face the table but lets it continue to ring. 

“Why don’t you turn it off?” Holtz suggests quietly.

Erin glances at her, biting her lip. “I’m waiting for her to leave a message. If it’s really that important, she should leave a message.”

Across the table, Patty and Abby are talking paranormal to each other—Patty recounting something she read the other day that she thinks closely mirrors something they dealt with in the field today. They don’t seem particularly bothered by Erin’s ringing phone.

Erin grabs her beer and downs a big gulp as the ringing finally stops. A few seconds later, her screen lights up again for a second.

“She left a message,” Erin murmurs. “Finally.”

Holtz busies herself as Erin dials into her voicemail—she tries to tune into Abby and Patty’s conversation to give Erin some privacy, but she can’t help it that they’re sitting very close together and Erin has the call volume up all the way.

She can’t make out every word, but she can make out the gist. 

“Since you’re refusing to answer your phone, I guess you leave me no choice but to tell you this over your voicemail,” comes the tinny voice from the other end. “Your father passed away early this morning.”

There’s more, but it’s interrupted by Erin knocking her beer over, cracking the glass and flooding the table with warm beer. Abby and Patty are broken from their conversation. Abby immediately pops up to go fetch more napkins while Holtz and Patty quickly throw the damp napkins from underneath their own drinks onto the spill. 

Erin sits frozen, her phone still pressed to her ear, staring blankly ahead. She only reacts when Holtz picks up the broken glass and accidentally cuts her palm. 

“Holtz,” she says, her voice flat. “Your hand.”

Abby, back with the napkins, passes one to Holtz. “Here.”

Holtz presses the napkin to her bleeding hand, but her eyes are on Erin. 

“You should go clean that up,” Patty says. 

Zombie-like, Erin slides out of the booth to let Holtz past. Holtz shuffles her way across the seat and stands, searching Erin’s blank face for a moment before slipping past her.

In the bar’s cramped bathroom, she has barely got the tap running when the door opens and she catches Erin’s reflection in the mirror. Holtz looks over her shoulder. Erin still looks absent, even confused as to how she got there, and Holtz wonders if she followed her on autopilot. She turns back to the sink and focuses on cleaning her hand.

“Are you okay?” Holtz asks, biting back a wince as she runs her hand under the tap. The cold water stings her palm. 

Silence. 

Holtz glances back again to see that Erin is now sitting on the bathroom floor with her back against the wall, looking lost. 

She shuts off the tap. She’s cleaned off enough of the area to see that there’s no shards embedded in her skin. She waves her other hand under the paper towel dispenser and tears off a section, which she clumsily folds one-handed and then presses to the cut. 

Then she goes and sits next to Erin on the floor, applying firm pressure against the cut and holding it above her heart. 

“My dad’s dead,” Erin says flatly. 

Holtz isn’t good with things like this, with emotions and comfort and saying the right thing at the right time. So, she just leans her shoulder against Erin’s so there’s steady contact. That seems to unfreeze Erin a bit, because she curls into Holtz.

They’re not there for long when the door swings open and Patty appears. “Abby sent me to make sure you weren’t bleeding out in h—what’s going on?”

Holtz looks up at her, then at Erin, unsure what the etiquette is. Is it rude to announce someone else’s loss? All Erin does is shudder against Holtz and that’s when she realizes she must be crying. 

Holtz clears her throat quietly. “Time to call it a night.”

A beat, and Patty nods and steps inside the room. “Yeah. Right—uh…you wanna meet us outside? Or should I stay?”

Holtz glances at Erin again. Nothing. 

Patty crouches in front of them. “Erin? I’m here, baby—you want some help getting home?”

Erin nods without lifting her head. 

“C’mere,” Patty says, looping an arm around Erin and hoisting her up. 

She walks her out of the bathroom while Holtz trails behind, listening to Patty murmur consoling things to Erin and wondering why she doesn’t know how to do that. 

“You settle up with Abby, we’ll meet you outside,” Patty says to Holtz as they cross the bar. 

Abby is seated back at the bar nursing her beer when Holtz approaches. 

“How’s the hand?”

Holtz has all but forgotten about it. “Fine—we need to settle our tab. Patty’s outside with Erin.”

Abby catches her tone of voice. “What’s wrong?”

Holtz swallows, once again debating ethics. “Erin’s dad died. This morning, I think.”

Abby pales. She opens her mouth to say something, then closes it again. 

“My wallet’s in my back pocket. Could you grab it?” Holtz holds up her bleeding hand, still holding it firm. 

Abby exhales, still pale. “Don’t be stupid,” she grumbles, grabbing her own wallet and throwing some cash on the table. “Come on—let’s go.”

Patty is in the middle of hailing a cab when they get outside. 

“I’ll take her home,” Abby announces. 

Patty nods grimly and helps Erin into the cab that has pulled up. Abby walks around and gets in on the other side. 

“Did she tell you?” Holtz asks as the cab drives off.

“Yeah.” Patty shakes her head. “Shit, man. Poor Erin.”

 

Erin takes a day and a half off work. She shows up on the second day when the rest of them are sitting down to lunch, clustered around the battered table on the third floor of the firehouse. 

“Erin!” Abby exclaims when she appears at the top of the stairs. 

Holtz takes a moment to study her. The zombie-like blankness is gone from her face, replaced with fire. 

“She cut me out of the will,” Erin says.

Holtz exchanges a look with Patty.

“Who, your mom?” Abby gestures for Erin to come sit down. “What do you mean?”

Erin slumps down into the open chair. Patty, always making sure everyone is fed, gets up to retrieve a plate from the cabinet and scoops some green curry and rice onto it from the takeout containers in the centre of the table. She slides it in front of Erin as she’s taking her coat off. 

“My mother coerced my dad into rewriting his will before he died. They’ve had separate finances for as long as they’ve been together.” Erin shakes her head with disgust. “She comes from family money and never wanted him or anyone else to get their hands on it. Yet she still always had her hands in his finances, controlling him to his last breath. I should’ve seen this coming, but I didn’t think my dad would ever allow it. He always said he would be leaving me money.”

“What did she do?” Patty asks.

“Convinced him to have a clause written in,” Erin replies bitterly, “barring me from accessing my inheritance.” She pauses. “Until I’m married.”

Stunned silence at the table.

“That can’t be legal,” Abby says. “This is the 21st century. Women are allowed to have financial independence.”

“Not if you’re my mother and you’re hell bent on screwing over your daughter.” Erin laughs harshly. “I can’t believe a lawyer allowed it, but I read it with my own eyes. It clearly states that my inheritance is to be divided between me and my spouse and is not to be released until I’m legally married. She knew my dad would never agree to writing me out of the will entirely—this was as best as she could manage. She knew at this point in my life it’s practically the same thing.”

Patty lays a hand on her shoulder. “That’s fucked up, Erin. You gotta be able to fight it. They can’t do that.”

“I already spoke to my lawyer. There’d be lengthy and expensive legal proceedings to fight it. It’s not worth it. It would take years and more money than I’d even get.” 

The table falls silent. Holtz feels sick at the thought that Erin’s own mother would do this to her. 

“What gets me the most is that she felt secure enough that I wouldn’t be getting married that she went with this plan over something else. And the worst part is that she’s right—that inheritance is as good as gone. It’s not like anyone is knocking down the door wanting to marry me.” Erin huffs. “I hate her. I hate her.”

“You don’t know that,” Patty says gently. “It could still happen.”

Erin shakes her head. “It’s not. I just wish I could stick it to her, you know? I don’t even care about the money—I just want to shove it in her face that she failed at this attempt to control me—and my dad. 

“You could always pretend to get married to someone,” Holtz jokes in a deadpan, because she doesn’t know how to contribute to tense situations other than by lightening the mood. 

Erin slowly looks at her. “What did you just say?”

“She’s kidding,” Abby says. “Right, Holtzmann? You’re kidding.” There’s a warning in her eyes.

“No, wait…I should do that,” Erin says. “I should get married to someone.”

“Didn’t you just say you don’t have anyone lined up to marry you?” Patty asks.

Erin’s eyes are getting brighter, more animated. “I can marry one of you guys!”

Patty bursts into laughter, then it dies off when she sees the look on Erin’s face. “Are you serious?”

“Yes! It’s perfect! I can get married, get my money, and stick it to my mother!” Erin looks around the table at them. “Come on! You’re my friends—someone marry me!”

“You can’t be serious,” Abby says.

Patty tsks. “Baby, you’re grieving so I know this might be hard for you to understand, but this ain’t a good idea. We’ll find some other way to get you your money, okay?”

“Come on,” Erin begs. “What would be the harm in it? I’ll pay you! It’s right there in the will—my inheritance is to be divided between me and my spouse. Everybody wins! Come on, who’s going to marry me?” When nobody answers her, she looks towards the stairs. “I guess I could ask Kevin, although he probably won’t understand what’s going on—”

“I’ll do it,” Holtz says calmly.

All eyes go to her.

“No, no you won’t,” Abby says.

“Are you serious?” Erin asks. 

Holtz nods. “Why not?”

“This is a bad idea,” Patty says.

Erin holds eye contact with Holtz across the table, ignoring the others. “You understand what that would mean, right?”

Holtz tilts her head.

“This is a legal document,” Erin says. “It’s not like we can fool the courts by showing up with some rings. We’d need to get legally married—actually married.”

Holtz nods.

“We could do it by the end of the week,” Erin says, still meeting Holtz’s eyes but seemingly talking to herself. “There’s a 24 hour waiting period for marriage licenses, but then we could go to the courthouse after that. There might be a wait for appointments but I’m sure we could get the mayor’s office to pull some strings if we had to…”

“Okay, y’all are acting crazy now,” Patty interjects. “This is a bad idea. A very bad idea. Holtzy, do you hear me? This is a bad idea.”

“I’m in,” Holtz says, staring unblinking at Erin. “I’m all in.”

Erin extends a hand across the table. Without a hesitation, Holtz reaches out and shakes it firmly, feeling the nerves tingle on her partially-healed palm.

“This is such a bad idea,” Patty groans.

“Probably the stupidest thing you two have ever done,” Abby agrees. 

 

Patty catches Holtz alone later. 

“I know, I know,” Holtz mutters, elbows deep in the weapon she’s fixing. 

“You know how dumb this is?”

“I’ve got some grounding on,” Holtz argues. “I’ll be okay.”

Patty sighs. “When this marriage shit explodes, you’ll wish you blew yourself up building that.”

Holtz levels a gaze over her glasses. “You’re being dramatic.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“I don’t think anyone could claim that,” Holtz says at Patty’s retreating back.

 

By that afternoon, Erin has applied for a marriage license online and has secured a Mayor-ordered same-day appointment for them to complete the process at the Office of the City Clerk. That’s where the two of them end up at 3:00pm, and Holtz is strangely nervous as they wait.

“Are you sure about this?” Erin asks her quietly, so nobody will hear them. 

“Are you?”

“It is a pretty stupid plan,” Erin admits. 

Holtz shrugs.

Erin shifts nervously. “There’s no real harm in it though, right?” 

Holtz makes a face and shrugs again. 

“We can always cancel before the…” Erin hesitates.

“Wedding,” Holtz supplies.

“Yeah. That.”

Their names are called. 

They look at each other.

Erin rolls her shoulders back. “Well?”

Holtz nods. “Let’s do it.”

 

They have a marriage license. Valid for 60 days, but it won’t take them that long. The funeral is this weekend, and Erin will be travelling to Michigan to attend. She intends to bring the news of her newlywed status. 

They’ve got another appointment booked at the City Clerk’s office for tomorrow, 24 hours after their license was issued. Another rush job by the Mayor. Mercifully, Jennifer didn’t ask questions. They’ve been working for them for so long by now that their office has stopped caring about the Ghostbusters’ every move. 

Erin has a checklist of things that they need to do. They’ve already long given up on work for the day, so after they’re done getting their license, Erin consults her list and says that they need to get rings by the ceremony. 

They end up in a pawn shop a few blocks away from the City Clerk’s office. The man behind the counter, who looks like a caricature of “Man Behind the Pawn Shop Counter”, pulls out a few trays of rings for them to look at. 

Holtz is overwhelmed. “I don’t know anything about rings. What do we need?”

Erin chews on her lip. “Wedding bands for certain…I suppose I’ll need an engagement ring for realism, otherwise my mother will wonder where it is.”

“Do I need one?”

“Well that’s…it depends. If you’d want one, I suppose. If it was real.”

Holtz looks over the rings, nose wrinkling. 

Erin catches it. “So maybe just one engagement ring, then.”

“Try on anything you like,” the guy says gruffly. “Don’t even think about trying to slip one out on me. I got eyes everywhere.”

He leaves them alone with the rings. 

“Am I supposed to pick out yours?” Holtz asks, peering over the selection. 

“Well, I mean, it’s…it’s not real…”

Holtz glances at her. “I should, though. That’d be fun. See if I can pick what you’d pick for yourself.”

Erin laughs nervously. “Okay, then. If you say so.”

Holtz, taking this task very seriously, inspects the rows of rings. She doesn’t know anything about jewelry, but she does know Erin fairly well, and has observed the kind of jewelry she wears on a regular basis. It’s usually simple. 

The dozens of diamonds glint in the fluorescents, but something about Erin and diamonds isn’t sitting right with her. Erin’s a rough-and-tumble Ghostbuster. She’s pretty, and graceful, but she also destroys ghosts like they’re nothing. She’s both elegant and clumsy. Practical. Feminine. Special. She’s not glitz and glam and a rock the size of an ocean liner. 

Holtz plucks a simple ring from the far left. A relatively small, smooth oval stone that shines colourfully when she tilts it back and forth. Set in an understated silver band. When she inspects it closely, she notices it does have a few tiny diamonds on either side of it. Well, Erin does have a bit of sparkle to her.

She offers it to Erin, head cocked. 

Erin has a bit of an indescribable look on her face. “Opal is my birthstone,” she murmurs. 

Holtz glances down. “Is that what this is?”

Erin nods. She carefully takes the ring from Holtz and slides it onto her ring finger. “Nearly perfect sizing.”

“What do you think of it?”

“It’s the one I noticed first,” Erin says, almost shyly. “I would’ve picked it for myself.”

Holtz grins and punches the air. “I’m good at this.”

Erin takes the ring back off and goes to set it on the counter, but Holtz snags it. 

“What are you—”

“Hang on, I’m having fun,” Holtz says. She drops into a kneel and presents the ring to Erin. “Erin Gilbert, will you fake-marry me to get back at your mom and score your inheritance?”

Erin laughs, something she hasn’t done a lot of since receiving the news. “Yes, yes, a million times yes,” she jokes. 

Holtz grins and stands up again. 

“So now we just need wedding bands,” Erin says. She pulls the other tray closer. “They’re all pretty standard, so just what’s cheapest, I imagine. These?”

Holtz picks up one of the bands and takes a deep sniff of it. 

“Really, Holtz?”

“Just trying to figure out what it’s made of. Need something with a high melting point and durability.” She poked her tongue out and made a face. “No, no. White gold. Flimsy.”

“It’s not like it has to last long,” Erin says. “We’re not exactly going for longevity.”

Holtz freezes, something heavy settling in her chest. 

“Right,” she says after a beat. She slowly sets the band back down. “Still. Sham or not, I have standards. I don’t think I can lower myself to white gold. It’s like playdoh. Bah. I need at least titanium, but I’d prefer tungsten. Zirconium if I have to.”

Erin rolls her eyes. “Well, I’m not intending on melting my wedding ring, so I’ll take the bad metals.” She reaches past Holtz to grab what looks like sterling silver. “This will do.”

Holtz sticks her tongue out in disgust. “Even worse than the gold.”

“Holtz, if you’re routinely sticking your hand in 1700 degree heat, we have to have a whole other talk.”

Holtz ends up with a platinum number. She’ll tolerate it. 

Erin’s right. They’re not going for longevity. 

 

It’s early the next morning, and they’re trying to convince Abby and Patty to come be their witnesses. 

“I don’t want any part in this,” Patty says. 

Holtz leans her elbows on her workbench, chin on her fists. “So you’re going to let your best friends get married without you?”

Abby points at her. “Don’t. Don’t you dare.”

Holtz blinks innocently. 

“We just need one of you,” Erin says. “I suppose Kevin could come witness in a pinch, but it’s probably best we don’t tell him about the whole fake-marriage thing…he’d just get confused.”

“I ain’t getting myself arrested as an accomplice for whatever crime this is considered,” Patty says. “There’s no way my signature is going on that.”

“It’s not a crime to get married,” Erin says defensively. 

“Well, I don’t care about the morality,” Abby says. “I’ll do it. But just know I’ll be judging you the whole time.”

Holtz nods solemnly in acceptance. 

Patty frowns. “Well if she’s going, I wanna go.”

“I thought you just said you didn’t want any part in this?”

“Still,” Patty says. “You never know. Maybe it’ll last, and I’ll regret not being there for your wedding.” She gives Holtz a look.

Erin just laughs. “Yeah, okay.”

 

For something supposedly so life-altering and important, it happens very quickly.

They don’t dress up at all, merely going to the City Clerk’s office in their work clothes. Erin is wearing jeans and a lavender sweater. Holtz is wearing grease-stained pants, a vintage Star Wars graphic tee, and a silver vest with a small burn along the hem.

It’s over in a matter of minutes. A few words that they have to repeat back to the man behind the podium. The rings, dug out of Holtz’s pocket, exchanged and placed on fingers. Signatures on paper. 

He asked them to kiss, and Erin leaned down to chastely catch the corner of Holtz’s mouth with an apology in her eyes. Blink and you miss it. 

They’re married—really, actually, legally wed in the State of New York. No smoke and mirrors: Holtz has a wife.

“Are you crying, Abby?” Erin asks. 

“Shut up.” Abby drags her hand under her eyes. “I know it’s not real. But you guys are my best friends and you just got married, alright?”

Erin rolls her eyes, but Holtz catches her staring at her rings several times on the way home.

 

It’s later that night. They’re closed for the day—Kevin is gone, Patty’s upstairs answering emails, and Abby went home to get some rest. It’s her turn with the call phone tonight. They’ve got an after-hours emergency line that they rotate every night. Most of the calls they get are bored teenagers pranking them, or genuine ghost calls that aren’t actually emergent. No, thank you, the Ghostbusters will not be coming at 2:00am to deal with the patch of spectral mist that’s giving you the heebie jeebies. They’ll be there in the morning. 

Every once in a while there’s a true emergency, a higher classification entity that’s acting particularly malevolent, and whoever has the call phone will go investigate and wake up the rest of them for backup as needed. Some nights, being on call means you don’t get a wink of sleep because the phone is ringing off the hook. Other nights, it doesn’t ring once. One time, Holtz got a wrong number and spent three hours having a perfectly lovely conversation about garden snakes with an elderly gentleman.

She’s not on call tonight, though, and she could go home if she wanted to—but she’s usually the last to leave for the night. Right now, she’s checking the readings on the containment unit. She got some weird numbers earlier in the day and has been keeping an eye out ever since.

Erin, meanwhile, is stretched out on the couch by the scheduling board, tapping away at her phone. 

Holtz finishes up with the containment unit and ambles over to perch on the armrest of the couch. “Whatcha doing, wifey?”

Erin startles. “Oh, don’t call me that. That’s weird.” She tilts her screen towards Holtz and sighs. “Just booking my flight home for Saturday.”

Holtz hums. “You want me to come with you?”

Erin blinks at her. “Why would you do that?”

“Moral support? To save you from your mother? Because we’re allegedly married and that’s probably something I’d do if this was real?”

“I’d never ask you to do that,” Erin says quickly. 

Holtz pulls a Fruit by the Foot from her pocket and unwraps it. “I know, that’s why I’m offering.”

“No, no.” Erin shakes her head. “No, but thank you.”

Holtz tips her head back and tears off a chunk from the Fruit by the Foot dangling above her head. “Okie dokie.”

Erin eyes her phone warily. “I do need to call my mother, though. And tell her the news.”

Holtz chews thoughtfully. “I thought you were going to tell her when you’re home?”

“I can’t tell her I’m married at my dad’s funeral.”

Holtz tips her head and makes a face. 

They sit in silence except for Holtz’s chewing. Erin stares at her phone like maybe it will spontaneously dial her mother for her. 

Holtz takes a chance. “Tell me about your dad.”

Erin looks at her in surprise. There’s a beat, and then she sets her phone down beside her and gazes at the ceiling contemplatively. 

“I loved him,” she says simply, “and he loved me. He loved me so much.”

Holtz nods.

“He always wanted what was best for me,” Erin says. “He…he never believed me about the ghost, but I can’t blame him for that. Lots of kids have nightmares about the monster under the bed—he just thought I was having nightmares. Every night for months he’d come into my room to comfort me when I started screaming. Of course, he never saw her…

“He was the one who took me to get help,” Erin continues. “My mother thought I was being attention-seeking. Needy. Dramatic. But my dad was broken up to see me so scared and distressed. It went on for long enough that he thought something else was going on. He took me to all the doctors, all the therapists…listened to them diagnose me with night terrors or anxiety or say that I was acting out because I had emotional needs that weren’t being met. He did everything they suggested to make me feel safe and comfortable—of course, none of that does anything against a paranormal entity haunting your bedroom. But he loved me, and he wanted me to be okay.”

Holtz swallows, listening with rapt attention. 

“He’s been sick,” Erin says softly, finally meeting Holtz’s eyes. “Brain tumour. He hasn’t been himself for years. In a way, I feel like I lost him a long time ago. Once we formed the Ghostbusters, I wanted so badly to talk to him and reconcile the pain from my childhood. Because he may have loved me and done everything in my best interests, but he still didn’t believe me and I’ve carried that with me. If I could just talk to him and—” She drops her head. “Well. I never got my chance. I saw him a few times in the last few years but he had lost a lot of cognitive function. And now he’s gone.”

Holtz reaches out and silently takes Erin’s hand into her own. 

“He was a good man and a good father,” Erin says, voice shaky. “He was the one who encouraged me to go into STEM. He was the one who kept in touch with me after I left home. He was the one who got me out of the house and away from my mother when I was a kid so I could have a break from her, even if only for an hour. He was the only family I cared about…and he’s gone.”

Holtz squeezes her hand. 

Erin wipes tears from her eyes with her free hand. “I wish you could’ve met him.”

“Me too,” Holtz says. 

Erin takes a deep breath. “What are your parents like?” she asks, and it sounds like she’s trying to change the subject so she doesn’t get any more emotional.

“Uh.” Holtz rubs her neck uncomfortably. “Gone, too.”

Erin’s face falls. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t remember them,” Holtz says quickly. “They were seniors in high school when they had me. I lived with my mom and my grandma when I was born. My parents died when I was eight months old…bad car accident on prom night. Another one of their friends died too, and a couple others were injured.”

Erin has her hand covering her mouth, her eyes wide. “Oh my gosh…Holtz…”

“Yeah.” Holtz swallows. “Pretty awful. My grandma raised me after that, but she passed when I was three. I didn’t have any other family willing to take me—my dad’s family wouldn’t. So I got placed in foster care. Had seven foster families between ages 3 and 18 when I aged out.” Her mouth twists into something of a smirk. “I was a little too weird and difficult to handle once I stopped being a cute toddler and started being a kid who liked tearing apart the house in the name of science. There was a year where I bounced between four different families.” She shrugs one shoulder. “I blew up someone’s garage by accident that year, so couldn’t really blame them for moving me.”

“Holtz…” Erin looks pained. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

Holtz smiles reassuringly. “I had a good foster placement from 13-18 and I still keep in touch with my foster parents. It wasn’t all bad. And you guys are my family now; you know that.”

Erin squeezes her hand right back.

“Okay,” she says, reaching for her phone again. “It’s time.”

“You want me to leave?”

“No, I…” Erin looks embarrassed. “I know it might be awkward, but would you mind listening in? It will make me feel a little less alone.”

In response, Holtz launches herself off the armrest and onto Erin’s lap. Erin exclaims as Holtz wiggles her way over to land on the couch on the other side of her.

Erin gives her a look. “You couldn’t have walked?”

Holtz shakes her head and snuggles in closer. “Okie dokie, I’m here. Do it.”

Erin inhales like she’s steeling herself, and dials. As it rings, she places the call on speaker. 

“Erin,” Paula answers curtly. 

“Hi. I’m just calling to let you know that my flights are booked for Saturday morning. I’m landing in Detroit at 7:40 and renting a car. I’ll hopefully get there by 10:00.”

“Okay.”

“Also, I’d like to request that you arrange a time for me to meet with the estate lawyer while I’m in town.”

Paula scoffs. “That will hardly be necessary.”

“Actually, it is. I’ve met the terms of Dad’s will and qualify to receive my inheritance, and I’d like to make sure that the lawyer is aware of that.”

Silence. “Erin…” A warning tone. 

“I’ll be happy to bring supporting documentation with me. My marriage certificate—”

“This is not funny.”

“I’m not joking. I’m married. Legally. I’m—”

“Erin Marie, I don’t know what kind of games you think you’re playing, but I will not have it.”

“There’s no games, mother. I got married. Legally, I’m entitled to that money now.”

“You’re making a mockery of this process. Your father would not have wanted this—”

“You’re right,” Erin cuts in. “Dad wouldn’t have wanted anything blocking me from getting the money he wanted to leave me. He would’ve never wanted me to have to get married for it.”

“Erin.”

“I’m not joking, mother. There’s nothing you can say or do to stop it—I’ve already gotten married.”

“To whom?”

Erin meets Holtz’s eyes and speaks slowly, carefully, like she’s trying not to tell a lie. “Someone I love and care about a lot, who has been in my life for years.”

Paula barks a laugh. “This is absolutely ridiculous.”

“I don’t care what you think. I’m married and when I’m there this weekend, I will be meeting with the estate lawyer. And don’t worry, I’m telling you now so you can’t accuse me of making a spectacle at Dad’s funeral.”

“You better be coming alone,” Paula says, voice suddenly up an octave. 

“What’s that supposed to mean? You’re saying I can’t bring my spouse?”

“Absolutely not. You’re forbidden from bringing anyone.”

Now Erin scoffs. “Seriously? I’m allowed to bring anyone I want.”

“Erin Marie, I swear, if you’re even thinking about bringing him with you, you’d better not come at all.”

Erin’s mouth falls open. “I can’t believe you just said that. Not come? To my own father’s funeral? Just for having the audacity to want my spouse with me? What’s your problem? Would you ever tell…oh, I don’t know, Aunt Jenny not to bring Winston with her?”

Paula huffs. “Of course not. He’s a valued member of the family and has been around for many years. He knew your father. Nobody knows this husband of yours, if he even exists. I’m not having a stranger at my late husband’s funeral.”

Erin is stone-faced. “Wow. Well, good to hear that your sister’s boy toy, who she cheated on her husband of 25 years with, is more of a valued member of the family than I am. He was my father. I’m going to his funeral, and I’m bringing whoever I like.”

She hangs up before her mother can respond and lets out a long groan.

“Saving the second blow for in-person, eh?” Holtz asks.

Erin’s eyes go to her. “What did I miss?”

“Your…” Holtz tugs on the lapel of her lab coat. “Husband.”

Erin winces. “Shoot. I wasn’t even thinking about that part. Guess I’ll break that to her at some other point.” She closes her eyes and shakes her head. “I can’t believe her. Suggesting I should just not come to my dad’s funeral. I hate her. I hate her so much.”

Holtz bumps her forehead against Erin’s shoulder like a cat demanding pets. “Screw her. You’re going to go anyway, and you’re going to get your money.”

Erin opens her eyes. “I wish I could just stick it to her and—” She blinks and glances at Holtz. “You offered to come.”

“Uh huh.”

“Come,” Erin says. “You should come. Just to piss her off. And because if that conversation was any indication, I’m in for hell this weekend.”

“Done.”

“Wait, no, maybe that’s a bad idea. No. I shouldn’t do that to you.”

Holtz gazes over her glasses. “I offered.”

“I know, but—”

“No buts,” Holtz says in a thick accent, “it is decided.”

A pause, and Erin nods. “Okay. I’ll book your flight.”

“Let me know how much I owe you.”

“No, I’m paying. It’s a favour to me. Consider it part of your compensation package for…this whole thing.” She gestures at Holtz. 

“Alrighty.” Holtz leans back and stretches her arm along the length of the couch. “Get me a middle seat.”

Erin’s nose wrinkles. “I’ve never met anyone who preferred middle seats.”

“I like to annoy people.”

Erin snorts. She fiddles around on her phone for a few minutes and soon there’s a flight confirmation in Holtz’s email.

“Kiitos,” Holtz says with a tip of an imaginary hat. She’s been on a crusade to learn a conversational amount of a new language each month. This month is Finnish. Se on hauskaa.

She pulls herself off the couch, itching to get back to work—while she’s been talking to Erin she’s had no fewer than eight new ideas she wants to chase. She hasn’t made it a step before Erin speaks up behind her.

“You know, this really isn’t how I pictured my wedding day.”

Holtz turns around. “This is exactly how I pictured mine,” she deadpans. “Cunning ruse and all.”

That gets a bit of a smile from Erin.

“You’ll get a do-over one day,” Holtz says confidently. “Assuming you want to get married to someone one day…you know, besides me.”

Erin gets off the couch as well and wanders over to the containment unit. Holtz trails after her. 

“I doubt it,” she murmurs, glancing over the readout and hitting a few buttons. “It’s not that I never wanted to—I dreamed of spending my life with someone like any kid does, I guess. But I lost that dream years ago.”

Holtz leans on one of the workbenches. “Why?”

Erin turns from the containment unit to give her a look. “I’m nearly 50 and I haven’t dated anyone in years. Marriages don’t just drop in your lap out of nowhere.”

“Speak for yourself,” Holtz quips.

Erin shakes her head, but she’s smiling. “All I’m saying is that there’s a reason my mother pulled this stunt. I know it just as much as she does. Even if I wanted to, I don’t think I’m ever getting married. Or…remarried, I guess.”

Holtz shrugs, unable to quite compute why Erin’s given up on finding love.

“What about you?” Erin’s casual tone doesn’t quite match her suddenly-tense stance. “Do you want to get married someday to someone besides me?”

There’s a long pause. Holtz is suddenly very focused on whatever prototype is on the bench beside her, as if it needs her undivided attention.

“No,” she says after an appropriately awkward silence. “I don’t see myself getting married to anyone besides you.”

 

Chapter 2

Holtz leaves for home shortly after, much to the surprise of both Patty and Erin, both of whom are used to Holtz being the last to leave. However, unbeknownst to them, Erin gave her an idea that she wants to pursue even more than any of the other ones, and if she has any chance of pulling it off, she needs to get home as soon as possible. 

She spends the rest of her evening making phone calls and cashing in favours, before finally settling into bed late into the night. 

She’s not sure how tomorrow morning is going to go, but at least she can say she put her all into it.

 

Erin is an extremely punctual person, perhaps to a fault, which is how Holtz manages to time her arrival so perfectly that she and her invited guests are standing right outside Erin’s apartment door less than a minute before it swings open.

Erin yelps when she sees her. “Holtz! What the heck are you doing here? I was just about to leave for work!”

“We’re not going to work today,” Holtz says with a little wiggle of her shoulders.

It’s then that Erin seems to notice Holtz’s company. “Who—”

“So,” Holtz says, and the rest of her speech comes racing out of her, “you got me thinking yesterday about how that wasn’t really a normal wedding day and if it was a normal wedding day there’d be photographic evidence of it, and then I was thinking about how what if your family asks to see photos of the wedding as some sort of proof that it happened, and then I thought hey, we don’t need a real wedding to have wedding photos, so—” She inhales a swift breath. 

“This,” she continues, gesturing to the short and lanky white person behind her to the left, “is Robbie. Xe’s an old friend and a very talented photographer who has selflessly offered to take some engagement and wedding photos of us today. And behind xem is Franklin.” She points to the tall Black man with orange glitter swiped across his face. “By night he’s one of the city’s most notable drag queens, Kit E. Lightning.”

“Try the most, honey,” Franklin says and blows a kiss at Erin. “And I’m here to doll you up.”

Holtz catches the look of mild panic on Erin’s face. “Don’t worry, he will not be giving you a drag makeover. In the daytime, he’s an award-winning make-up artist who works on celebrities, models, you name it.”

Erin’s panic is replaced with a weak smile. 

Holtz presses on. “And this is Mizzy.” 

The heavyset girl with neon-green hair standing beside Franklin waves.

“She runs an underground queer barbershop and is the one who keeps me looking like this.” Holtz runs her hand through her wild curls. “She’s gonna do our hair. And finally, maybe you remember them…” She steps aside to show the two middle-aged women behind her, one white with salt-and-pepper hair hanging in a long braid down her back, and one Indian with short curly hair. “The fabulous owners of S&K Formalwear, Simone and Keerthi.”

Keerthi smiles. “Ghost-free since 2018.”

Holtz grins back at her. They were called to a bust years ago at Simone and Keerthi’s wedding attire shop, and while their little paranormal problem was taken care of in a pinch, Holtz never quite forgot the two of them, who opened the shop after experiencing discomfort while shopping for their own wedding many years before. The heavy focus on ‘bridal’ and other gendered assumptions about wedding attire led them to create a safe space where couples of all sorts could shop for their wedding outfits without judgement or compromise. Holtz thought that was hella cool at the time, and they were the first ones she thought of last night.

“They brought a selection of outfits for us to choose from,” Holtz explains as she turns back to Erin. “And that’s everybody. What do you think?” Before Erin can even open her mouth, Holtz starts blurting words again. “It’s okay if you don’t want to. You can say no. It’s just, when you were saying you didn’t think you’d ever get married for real, it made me kind of sad. Um, for you. Because that means you’d never get this experience or have wedding photos. And I don’t know, they’d kind of be a funny keepsake of this stupid thing we did, right?”

Erin glances around at the people behind her.

“Oh, and they’ve all been briefed on the situation, by the way.” Holtz shifts nervously. “Sworn to secrecy.”

“If it helps,” Robbie says with an easy grin, “I’ve done shoots before for couples stranger than you.” 

Erin meets Holtz’s eyes. “I…I can’t believe you organized all this for me.”

Holtz tilts her head like a puppy. “In a good way?”

Erin nods. “This is so weird…but also sounds like so much fun. Plus like you said, it will provide some proof to shove in my mother’s face.”

“I’ve done lots of spite-motivated shoots too,” Robbie adds. 

“Girl, I live for spite,” Franklin says. 

“Plus, who doesn’t want to dress up and feel hot for a day?” Simone smiles. 

“I’m down. Absolutely,” Erin says.

“Sweet. Can we come in?”

Erin nods and steps back into the apartment, ushering them all inside, arms full of gear and wheeling garment racks with them. 

“Should we text Abby and Patty and tell them we won’t be in?” Erin wonders as their guests bustle around setting up their stuff. 

“Oh, already taken care of late last night.”

“What’d you tell them?”

“That we were taking wedding photos, what else?”

Erin snorts. “I’m sure they took that well.”

“Patty sent me sixteen texts,” Holtz says solemnly.

Erin laughs.

 

After some deliberation on how to structure the day, it’s decided that they should take engagement photos first, because their hair and makeup will be simpler, and then they’ll return to get glammed up for their wedding shoot. First, however, they’re going to pick their outfits for the wedding photos, so Simone and Keerthi can return to the shop. 

“We spoke to Holtzmann last night about her preferences, and brought a more narrow selection for her,” Keerthi says. “Erin, we weren’t sure what direction you’d want to head, so we brought a lot of different options.”

“What do you see yourself in?” Simone asks. “We’ve got suits, dresses, jumpsuits…what are you most drawn to?”

Erin immediately looks to Holtz. “What are you wearing?”

Holtz shrugs nonchalantly. “I got some ideas. I’ll make my final decision after you choose yours.”

Erin frowns. “That’s not helpful.”

“Just pick what you like,” Holtz says. “It’s not like you have to wear it all day in a wedding and dance in it and make it match your theme or whatever. Pick something that you’d like to wear.”

Erin eyes the garment racks, fiddling her fingers anxiously. 

“I don’t think I could pull off a suit or jumpsuit,” she murmurs. “I’ll leave that to Holtz.”

Holtz leans against the kitchen peninsula. “You would rock the shit out of a suit or jumpsuit. You wear a jumpsuit every day.”

Erin rolls her eyes at her. “Not the same thing, Holtz. Either way, I think…a dress?” She glances at Holtz again, as if seeking approval.

“We can start with some dresses,” Simone says cheerfully. “No pressure to commit to a dress at all.” 

Keerthi starts flipping through the garment bags hanging on the rack. “Is there a silhouette you like? Or a detail, like lace or beading?”

Holtz starts to progressively tune out their back-and-forth, only half-listening while the experts throw around words like trumpet and fit-and-flare and sweetheart and applique. 

She did send them some photos last night of Erin’s typical outfits to give them a sense of her style, so she doesn’t see anything particularly over-the-top on the racks that Erin wouldn’t wear in a million years. Holtz may not know anything about wedding dresses, but she has a hard time seeing Erin in some massive poofy bedazzled ball gown.

She only really tunes back in when Erin starts trying on dresses. The first one she comes out in is nice, but she doesn’t look comfortable. The second she tries is also fine, but doesn’t look right. 

Simone disappears with her into the bedroom to help her into the third dress, and when they come back out a few minutes later, all eyes in the room go to Erin. 

Erin smooths her hands over her abdomen and examines herself in the floor-length mirror that they brought. 

Holtz is staring. So much so that when Erin meets her eyes across the room, she takes a second to realize and tear her gaze away. 

“I know this is just for photos and isn’t supposed to be my dream dress or anything, but I…”

“Look really good,” Holtz blurts. She clears her throat. “I mean, um…”

“I love it,” Erin says, looking back at the mirror and turning from side to side. “I know it doesn’t matter. I’m not…actually getting married in this dress. But I…would? I love it.”

Keerthi and Simone are beaming. They start gushing compliments, and Holtz is back to staring.

Again, she doesn’t know enough about wedding dresses to tell you anything about this one, but she can tell you that it looks like it was made for Erin. It’s simple, but not plain. The neckline is a V framed by thick straps that sit nearly off Erin’s shoulders. The dress is mostly lace and fitted until past her hips, where it gradually tapers out. The back is a deeper V with delicate buttons running down. It’s beautiful, but it’s specifically beautiful on Erin. Holtz can’t imagine anyone else looking as beautiful as Erin in it. 

She’s zoned out again and almost misses her name. That’s when she realizes everyone is looking at her. 

“My turn?” she guesses. She steps forward and holds her arms out. “I’m at your mercy. Do with me what you like.”

Simone and Keerthi look her up and down, then examine Erin’s dress, then briefly whisper to each other. 

Keerthi lifts her head. “How do you feel about florals?”

Holtz grins.

 

They put her in a head-to-toe floral suit. Navy blue, almost black. The florals aren’t too busy or crazy. A simple white shirt underneath and a bowtie. She’s not equally as certain as Erin is about hers that she would wear it to get married in, but she could. And she loves it. 

“Done,” she says, and slings an arm around Erin, who’s still in her dress. The sight of them side-by-side in the mirror sends a very specific kind of feeling through her. 

She notices a little belatedly that Robbie has been taking photos this whole time. She’s a little suspicious, but ignores it.

“Well, let’s get you out of those and get this show on the road then, hey?” Robbie says, lowering xyr camera. 

Simone and Keerthi get them set up with the accessories they need, explain how to get Erin in and out of her dress and cheat some alterations, and then pack up and leave them with instructions to bring the dry-cleaned garments back to the store when they’re all done. 

After they’ve left, they have to pick some outfits for their engagement photos. Holtz brought some of her nicer pieces along with her to choose from, and Franklin accompanies Erin into her closet to help her pick something. She ends up choosing another dress, a dark purple number that Holtz has never seen. Erin mumbles something about it being for dates, her face red. 

Holtz goes with grey slacks and a matching vest over a striped shirt that luckily has a lighter, complimentary purple in it. Their outfits set, they divide and conquer to get their hair and makeup done. Erin disappears into the bathroom with Mizzy to get her hair done, while Holtz and Franklin sit facing each other on stools at the peninsula and Franklin works on Holtz’s face. They’re not doing much more than she usually wears on a daily basis. He’s going to do her eyeliner a little more pronounced to show up in the photos, and they choose a natural lip colour close to her usual. The main difference is that he’s actually going to put stuff on her skin, which she usually skips. 

“So,” he says quietly as he’s applying her foundation. “This is fun.”

“Not every day I let you play makeover with me,” she agrees.

“Honey, you know I mean this whole fake marriage sit-u-ation. Look at you with your little wifey. So cute for you.”

“Just helping a friend out,” she says. 

“Mmm hmmmm,” he says. “Just a business transaction, right?”

“I’m in it for the money,” Holtz deadpans.

“I’m sure you are, love.” 

“Okay, no, I don’t care about the money. Really, I’m doing it for her. She needed a favour.”

“And you’d do anything for her, wouldn’t you.”

Holtz rolls her eyes at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“That might work on her, baby, but not on me.”

She tries to turn her head away, and he lightly swats her knee to get her to turn back. 

“She’s my friend. It’s not like I wanted this. It’s just something I had to do for her.”

“Well, it’s not like you didn’t jump at the chance. Very happily and excitedly volunteered, by the sounds of it.”

Her eyes narrowed. “How would you know?”

He shrugs coyly. “Heard through the grapevine.”

“Did you, now?”

“Oh, it was the hot gossip de jour. The spunky little lesbian we all know and love, marrying her best friend out of the blue? The group chats were aflutter when Wan-Tony Phantasm dropped the juicy bombshell.”

Holtz’s eyes narrow further. “What did Tony say, exactly?”

“Ask him yourself, darling.”

“Oh, I’ve heard everything he has to say. But I will be talking to him, believe me.” Proving her point, she pulls her phone out of her pocket and fires off a brief, accusatory text to Abby while Franklin continues to dab product on her face. 

“I’m going to kill her,” she mutters under her breath. Then, louder. “Can’t believe my hush hush fake marriage is the talk of the drag town.”

Franklin winks. “Biggest news since Chamber Potts made out with an 80 year old sword-swallower on the subway.”

“I have questions,” Holtz says. “Was the sword-swallower swallowing a sword at the time? What line were they on? And can I meet them?”

“You’re changing the suuubjeeect,” Franklin sing-songs.

“What else d’ya want me to say? I ’spect you already know more than I do.” Holtz closes her eyes so he can work on them. “When did you hear about it?”

“Babygirl, we were getting photos live from the ceremony.”

Holtz opens one eye. “Seriously?”

“Don’t get too excited; they’re pretty lacklustre.”

“I didn’t know anyone was taking photos,” Holtz mutters, closing her eye again. “So you knew long before I texted you last night. And heard Abby’s perspective before mine.”

“Take it with a grain of salt. Don’t matter who told me what anyway—I didn’t need anyone to tell me nothing to walk in here and see exactly what’s going on. Anyone with half a brain can see that you’re in lo—”

“Ready to trade?”

Holtz’s eyes fly open. Franklin tsks at her. 

“You’re lucky you didn’t just end up ruining my work,” he says. 

They both look to the hall where Mizzy is waiting for an answer. Erin is standing just behind her.

Holtz turns back to Franklin with a warning glare to keep his mouth shut. 

“We just finished, Miz,” Franklin announces while maintaining eye contact with Holtz. “Tradesies!”

Reluctantly, Holtz swings down off the stool to go get her hair done. As she passes Erin, she murmurs a half-hearted, “Your hair looks nice.” She can practically feel Franklin’s smug energy radiating at her back. 

She took care doing her hair that morning, so it doesn’t take long for Mizzy to touch it up. Franklin only makes minimal tweaks to Erin’s makeup as well, so it’s not long before they’re both dressed in their outfits for the engagement photos and the five of them are heading out. Franklin says he and Mizzy are coming to assist with any on-site hair or makeup emergencies, but Holtz is fairly sure he just wants to be involved and snoop. 

Robbie suggests they keep it easy and do this shoot in Central Park for a neutral nature backdrop. Soon, they’ve found a spot to set up camp and Robbie is getting xyr camera prepared and doing some test shots. 

“You’ll need to ditch the wedding bands,” Mizzy calls out helpfully. 

“Shoot, right.” Erin wiggles off her wedding band and Holtz does the same. They stash both of them in the pocket of her vest. 

“Alrighty, folks,” Robbie says, having finished testing the lighting. “Let’s talk about some ground rules for today. My priority is always having a safe, comfortable, and consensual session and I take that very seriously. I set these boundaries with all my clients, but with you two and your situation, I want to make it extra clear that we’re doing all of this on your terms. I’m not going to put you into any poses or situations where either of you are the slightest bit uncomfortable, and I expect you’ll treat each other with the same respect.”

Erin exchanges a glance with Holtz, like she half-expects her to make some sort of joke.

“I’m taking this seriously,” Holtz says, unblinking.

Erin shifts and rubs her arm. “You mess with me sometimes.”

Holtz opens her mouth, then closes it. She can’t really defend herself when Erin is 100% right—but she doesn’t know how to communicate that she has never wanted to violate Erin’s trust. Sometimes she just gets a little hazy on boundaries and when good-natured razzing crosses a line. 

So, she just swallows and says, “I’m on my best behaviour.”

“If either of you are making the other uncomfortable, I’ll shut this down in a heartbeat,” Robbie threatens. “The comfort of my clients is always number one. I know this is not a real engagement session, or a real relationship, but I’m holding y’all to the same standards as anyone else.”

Holtz salutes to indicate she understands, but really, there’s not a threat on the planet that would hold more weight to her than the notion of unintentionally hurting Erin.

Robbie goes over a few more ground rules, making clear that they don’t have to do anything they don’t want to do, and then xe gives them a smile.

“So. On the scale of timeless to awkward-prom-poses, just how cheesy are we going with these photos?”

“Maximum cheese,” Holtz answers immediately, joined by Erin in the same moment saying, “Very cheesy, I imagine.”

Holtz grins at her. “I knew I agreed to marry you for a reason.”

Robbie chuckles. “Excellent. Let’s have some fun, yeah?”

 

They both agree they have no problem with casual physical touch, seeing as they’re fairly physically affectionate as friends anyway. It feels perfectly natural to clasp hands, or for Erin to grasp her upper arm, or for Holtz to rest a hand on the small of her back, because it is natural for them. 

They start simple with some walking shots, both forwards and backwards. Then they stand close together in a variety of embraces. Arms wrapped around waists. Heads leaned on shoulders. Erin’s hand held up in front of their smiling faces to show off her ring. An awkward piggyback. 

“How are we feeling?” Robbie asks after half an hour. 

“Good,” Erin replies, and Holtz nods along. 

“Are you wanting to go any further with the intimacy level?” xe asks.

They exchange a glance. 

“Meaning…what exactly?”

“Whatever you’d be comfortable with,” Robbie explains. “There’s lots of options. I’ve done plenty of sessions with couples before who weren’t comfortable with PDA. There’s no pressure, but there are ways to achieve more intimate shots without going so far as actually kissing each other, if you’re interested. Or we can stick with our current amount of physical contact. It’s completely up to you.”

Erin looks at Holtz, searching her face. 

Holtz shrugs. “I’m fine with whatever.”

Erin looks back at Robbie. “What would be the…um…next level?”

“Well, we can bring y’all a little closer together, and do a bit of illusion. Have your faces nearly touching. Or, say, your foreheads touching. Essentially getting that ‘about to kiss’ look without going that far. That make sense?”

Erin nods along. “I’d be…okay? With that?” 

“Same,” Holtz says quickly. 

“Cool, I’ll let y’all configure yourselves however feels natural. I’ll throw out some suggestions for posing, but you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

They somewhat awkwardly face each other and fumble around for the next several minutes while Robbie suggests ways for them to stand that aren’t so odd. It’s like they’ve both forgotten how to be humans. 

Holtz runs her tongue along her teeth. She can tell that Erin is overthinking it. “Do you trust me?” 

Erin bites her lip and nods. 

Holtz reaches up to take Erin’s face in her hands. Erin’s eyes widen in mild panic as Holtz leans in, but then she lets out an exhale when Holtz merely rests her forehead against Erin’s. 

“Look at me,” Holtz says in a goofy, faux-stern accent. 

Erin struggles to make eye contact at such a short proximity. She’s already smiling. 

“You can do this,” Holtz says, continuing her accent. “You are a superstar. An Olympian. You’ve trained for this. All of your years of preparation have led you to this moment.” 

Erin breaks away, laughing. Holtz grins. That’s exactly what she wanted. 

She moves one of her hands to Erin’s waist, leaving the other cupping the side of her face. When Erin sobers again, she’s less tense, and when she meets Holtz’s eyes again there’s something in them that’s hard to place. 

They hold eye contact, both of their chests raising and falling. 

Erin’s face moves in closer until there’s only inches between them. If Holtz didn’t know any better, she’d think it looked almost automatic. 

A sharp inhale, and Erin pulls back. 

“Robbie?” she asks softly, turning her head to xem.

Holtz pulls back as well, assuming that Erin is calling it, that she’s reached her limits. 

Robbie lowers xyr camera. “What’s up?”

“Do you think that we should—I mean, if Holtz is okay with it—” Erin looks back at Holtz as she speaks this next part. “I think maybe we should get one kiss shot. We’re trying to convince people this is real, right?”

Their eyes are locked. Holtz swallows.

“Holtzmann? You okay with that?” Robbie asks. 

A long pause. 

“Yeah,” Holtz says, and her voice cracks on the word. 

She can see Franklin lean down to say something to Mizzy in her peripherals. She ignores both of them. 

“I’ll follow your lead,” Robbie promises. “Pretend we’re not here, if it helps. I’ll capture whatever I can.”

Holtz would’ve thought that’s something she needed to be told, but it turns out that it happens anyway. Almost immediately, before either of them have moved, the rest of the world has already disappeared.

“Is this okay?” Erin whispers to her. 

Holtz can only manage a nod. 

A pause, where Erin looks at her for a moment longer, and then she’s the one who moves in. Slowly. 

Erin’s mouth is on hers, soft and firm. Holtz falls into her like she was made to. She has no idea where her hands are. She has no idea if Robbie is still taking photos. She has no idea if any photos that xe does take will turn out. 

She doesn’t care. None of those things are holding even a fraction of space in her mind. There’s only Erin. 

Maybe it lasts three seconds. Maybe three minutes. She couldn’t tell you. Erin starts it, and Erin ends it, pulling away. 

Erin doesn’t go far. Her face is still a mere inch from Holtz’s, close enough to feel her breath.

Her chest feels fizzy, and her skin is tingling all over like there’s lightning nearby. She can practically feel the surge of chemicals in her brain. Her nervous system is lighting up. She’s overwhelmed by two competing impulses. One to lean back in and finish what Erin started—and the other to run. 

She locks her muscles in place so she won’t do either, but the simmering mess of conflicting emotions continues to rise uncomfortably, so she does what she always does when she gets too uncomfortable. She makes a joke. 

“Doctor Gilbert,” she gushes in yet another goofy voice. 

It works like a charm. Erin breaks into laughter and drops her face into the crook of Holtz’s neck to stifle it. 

A few seconds pass before Erin lifts her head and looks at Holtz dead on.

“Are you okay?” Erin clears her throat. “I mean, was that…okay?”

She asks both of these questions soft enough that only Holtz can hear her. 

Holtz doesn’t particularly trust her own voice, so she makes a vague noise of agreement and nods her head slightly. 

Erin looks relieved. She lets go of Holtz, then, and steps away. Holtz feels the loss and immediately wants her back in her arms.

Erin turns to their entourage. “How was that?”

“Great,” Robbie replies cheerfully. “I got some great shots. How are we feeling? Do we want to keep going, or are we ready to head back and get ready for the next set?”

Erin glances at Holtz. She has no clue what her face looks like but can only hope it doesn’t reflect the mess she is internally. 

When she doesn’t get a response from Holtz, Erin looks back at Robbie with uncertainty. “I suppose, as long as you think you’ve got enough good shots, we can leave it there for the engagement photos?” 

“I think I’ve got a good assortment,” xe says confidently. “Now seems like a good time to take a break and reset.”

As Robbie packs up xyr equipment, Erin faces Holtz again.

“You sure you’re okay? You’re really quiet.”

“Course,” Holtz says immediately, but there’s a crack in her voice. 

She very purposefully doesn’t look in Franklin’s direction, but she can feel his smug energy radiating from here. 

“Good,” Erin replies, but she doesn’t sound entirely convinced. 

 

Back at Erin’s apartment, they take a break for an early lunch. Erin sets up a spread of sandwich ingredients, somehow able to play host without any notice (could never be Holtz—her fridge is always empty). 

Franklin keeps trying to catch Holtz’s eye, but she pointedly avoids it. 

As they finish up lunch and everything is cleaned up, he sidles up to her. “So, let’s get things going again. Holtzy, let’s get started on your makeup?”

Her eyes narrow. “Actually, I think it’s fine as is.”

“No, we definitely need to change up your look,” he says emphatically. 

She crosses her arms.

“Actually, I should start on her hair,” Mizzy cuts in. “It’s going to take a while. Why don’t you start with Erin this time?”

Franklin looks put-out, but Holtz is happy with this outcome. With any luck she can dodge him altogether. 

In Erin’s bathroom, Mizzy combs her fingers through Holtz’s hair, hemming and hawing. 

“Do whatever you want,” Holtz says, and pulls her phone out of her pocket. She’s got a slew of missed notifications. 

Abby has deftly ignored her last message, and instead sent a series of questions. Is it true? How was it? What does this mean?

And then one from Patty: Uhhhhhhhhh tell me you didn’t really kiss Erin????

Holtz closes her eyes for a brief moment, making a mental note to kill Franklin the first chance she can get, and then powers off her phone entirely and shoves it back in her pocket. 

She remains mostly quiet as Mizzy works magic on her hair, and half an hour later she stands and examines her reflection in the mirror. It’s hard to describe exactly what she’s done with it. It’s a bit more pompadour, a bit more volume, and the side is French braided instead of simply being smoothed back. Her curls are larger than usual and arranged and pinned in a deliberate manner instead of flopping all over the place.

Her hair has never looked like this. It looks like her, but not. 

“Sick,” she says, touching the side of it lightly. She beams at Mizzy. “You’re a rockstar.”

Mizzy reaches out for a fist bump. 

Erin’s new makeup is done and she’s chatting with Franklin and Robbie when Holtz emerges. All eyes go to her. 

“Wow,” Erin says, staring at her. “You look great.”

Holtz shifts uncomfortably. “Thanks.”

Erin gets up and trades places so Mizzy can work on her hair. Holtz dodges Franklin and goes to raid Erin’s fridge, hoping to find something fizzy and caffeinated to distract herself with. All there is is some fancy sparkling water, but she makes a face and cracks a can open anyway, giving it a long guzzle and intentionally not closing the fridge door so she can hide behind it. 

When she finally closes the door, Franklin is right there, hands on his hips.

“You can’t avoid me.”

“Sure I can,” she mumbles into the can.

He raises his eyebrows at her. 

She raises her eyebrows right back and chugs her drink for several long seconds, then burps. 

He waves his hand dramatically. “Cold cuts. Lovely.”

“Thanks for blabbing to Abby,” Holtz says, walking past him. 

He follows her. “Was it supposed to be a secret?”

She rolls her eyes and takes a seat at the island. “There are no secrets in your circles. Learned that a long time ago.”

He sits opposite her and begins pulling products. “Put that down.”

She takes another several gulps from her drink while maintaining eye contact, then clanks the can down on the counter. “Did you send photos of it?”

He leans in to remove her existing eye makeup from earlier. “No, I left the photos to the professional. Plus that seemed like a violation of consent.”

“Oh that did, but telling everyone seemed fine?”

He lowers his hand and she opens an eye. He looks upset.

“I really didn’t think you’d mind,” he says. “Sorry, babe. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

She shrugs a shoulder. “Woulda got out soon anyway, I guess.”

A pause. “Close your eyes again. I’ll drop it, I promise. No more pushing.”

She obliges. 

“How is Tony, anyway?” he asks, and she’s grateful he’s actually changing the subject as promised. “He hasn’t been around in a while.”

“Been busy,” Holtz says. “We had 16 calls last month. Plus, Patty got the flu and was out for a week, so the rest of us had to take on extra call shifts. Not surprised he’s missed some weekends.”

Franklin is done removing her makeup and is starting back on her eyes. “You haven’t been round in ages either. We miss you. You ever coming back?”

“Sid’s not up to snuff?”

He snorts. “Sid’s a good kid. A little tame for our crowd.”

“Does stuff by the book?”

“Uh huh. We miss your…special connections. Nobody could hook us up like you could.”

She smirks. “Well, I owe you one for this.” She gestures at his setup. “If you need me, I’ll come out of retirement for you. Only once, though.”

He perks up with interest. “I’ve got a big show at the end of the month.”

“Done. Send me a vision and I’ll see what I can do. I’ve got even better connections now—Mayor’s office supplies me with whatever I need, even if it’s hard to get. The government is watching me a little closer than before, though.”

“Nothing too crazy,” Franklin says. “It’s been a few years without a call to the fire department and I’d like to keep it that way.”

She gives him a little salute and mentally starts compiling a shopping list. 

It doesn’t take him long to finish her new look and he hands her a mirror to look it over. It’s a dramatic look, atypical for her, but it suits the hair and the occasion. 

“Thanks, buddy,” she says. 

Mizzy appears at that moment and tells them that Erin is done and getting dressed in her room.

Holtz grabs her suit and starts stripping down in the middle of the living room unabashedly to get changed. Her hands are shaking a bit as she buttons her shirt, and she realizes she feels strangely nervous about this shoot in a way she wasn’t about the last one. Maybe it’s because this is the wedding shoot. It nearly feels like she’s getting dressed for an actual wedding.

No sooner has she finished tying her bowtie when Erin calls out from her bedroom, asking for someone to come and help her button up the back of her dress.

They all look at each other.

Holtz clears her throat. “Mizzy, you want to—” 

“Holtz is coming!” Franklin calls down the hall.

She looks at him with exasperation. 

He shrugs and mouths sorry, but he doesn’t actually look sorry. 

Grumbling, Holtz threads her arms through her suit jacket, leaving it unbuttoned for now, and shoots one final look at Franklin before making her way down to Erin’s room.

She knocks lightly on the door when she gets there.

“Come in,” Erin says. 

Holtz hesitates, then swings the door open and steps inside. Erin is on the far side of the room in front of a full-length mirror, her back to Holtz. She’s holding the back of her dress closed. She looks over her shoulder at Holtz’s entrance and seems to do a double take.

“You’re dressed,” she says.

Holtz glances down at her suit. “Should I not be?”

Erin clears her throat. “No, it’s just—you look really good.”

“You do too,” Holtz replies automatically, but the truth is she’s trying very hard not to look too closely at Erin. She’s here to do up a dress, not ogle her best friend. 

She approaches and sets to work, focussing intently on the task at hand and not the smooth, warm skin of Erin’s bare back. Or the soft waves of hair hanging to her shoulders. Or the way Erin’s breathing seems to be very uneven. 

She prides herself on her steady hands, her ability to connect two wires without blowing herself up or fuse the smallest piece of metal to another, but she’s all thumbs as she clumsily tries to do up button after tiny button. It takes an agonizing amount of time, so long that she’s sure Erin must be thinking there’s something wrong with her, but she finally reaches the top buttons. 

She steps back, her hands falling heavily to her sides. “Done.”

Erin turns to face her, smoothing down the front of the dress as she does so. “This is so weird,” she says.

But Holtz can’t fully parse that sentence, because despite her best efforts, she’s staring right at Erin and taking her in. And it is weird, because she saw Erin in this dress a mere few hours ago and reacted to it then, and yet—

It doesn’t hold a candle to seeing it all put together—the makeup, her hair framing her face, Simone and Keerthi’s makeshift alterations working magic to make the dress hug the gentle curves of her body. 

It hits her hard. She actually takes a second step backwards as if the physical distance will help. As if an extra foot of space will erase years of slowly falling in hopeless love with this woman. This woman who she stood across from yesterday and stupidly vowed to love for the rest of her life. 

The pause is too long, and Holtz doubts she has much of a poker face. 

“What, is something wrong?” Erin looks down at her gown as if she looks anything other than perfect.

“I know you said you didn’t think you’d ever get married for real,” Holtz blurts out in a rush. “But I hope you do. One day.”

Erin looks up, brow furrowing.

Holtz swallows heavily. “The love of your life deserves to see you like this.”

She turns away to make a swift exit, but Erin catches her by the arm.

“Wait, Holtz—” 

She opens and closes her mouth a few times like she’s trying to decide what to say. 

“Do you still have the rings?” she asks finally. 

Holtz digs in the pocket where she’d transferred Erin’s wedding band. She crammed her own on her finger when she was getting changed.

Erin holds her hand out, palm down. Holtz has to briefly ask herself if Erin is trying to make this harder on purpose.

Holtz carefully wriggles the ring onto Erin’s finger, biting back the notion that this feels even more significant than when she did it during the ceremony itself. She holds onto Erin’s hand for a second too long, and when she releases it, Erin flexes her fingers with an unreadable expression on her face.

After a sufficiently long pause, Holtz jerks her head towards the door. “Photos?”

Erin clears her throat. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

 

It’s Erin who suggests they take photos outside the Aldridge Mansion. It’s a beautiful old building, she declares, and it’s got sentimental value. 

Holtz isn’t quite sure why their fake wedding photos need sentimental value, but she’s actively avoiding talking to Erin until she can get ahold of herself, so she doesn’t argue. Soon, the whole gang is outside the familiar building and the second session has begun. 

It goes by slower than the engagement one, possibly because being in close proximity to Erin is torture and possibly because it takes longer to position them each time. Erin’s dress needs to be arranged just so, and there’s a bit of a breeze which means Mizzy needs to keep running up and fixing their hair. 

They take more photos than Holtz can count in a myriad of positions, including some artsy perspective shots of them on the stairs while Robbie is laying on xyr stomach on the sidewalk with the camera pointed up at them. 

“Anything else you folks want to do before we wrap?” xe asks after an eternity.

Erin glances at Holtz. “Do you think…should we do another kiss?”

Holtz’s stomach bottoms out. 

“Just…it might look weird if there’s one in the engagement photos but not these,” Erin adds quickly. “But of course if you don’t want to, we don’t—”

“That’s fine,” Holtz says just as quickly. 

“Are you sure?”

“Come on down,” Holtz says in her best game show host voice.

It works to lighten the awkwardness, as always. Erin nods and lets Robbie know the plan, then they get themselves posed, their hair touched up, Erin’s dress positioned, the works. 

“Move however you want to,” Robbie instructs them. “I’ll just keep getting shots until you’re done.”

Holtz salutes in xyr direction and focuses on Erin’s face. She’s trying to work out the best way to approach this, if she should try to cut off her emotions and pretend it’s not Erin, or if she should lean into it and accept that this is going to be the last time in her life that she gets to kiss Erin Gilbert.

She doesn’t get very far in her planning before Erin is already leaning in, and her lips are on Holtz’s again for the second time that day, and it’s even more electric than last time. 

It’s less of an out of body experience than the first time. Holtz is very aware of where all her limbs are. The feeling of Erin’s dress beneath her hand. The softness of her cheek and jaw where she cups it. 

She realizes very quickly that she couldn’t stop herself from leaning into it if she tried. She doesn’t know how to not kiss Erin Gilbert with everything she’s got. 

This time, she’s the one who ends the kiss, because she’s fairly sure if it goes on any longer she’s going to go a little feral and they’re going to end up sprawled on the steps of this historic mansion, which she’s sure Erin doesn’t want.

When she pulls away, she notices that Erin is shivering slightly. She’s not surprised—the temperature has dropped as the day’s gone on, and she has bare arms. 

Without thinking about it, Holtz unbuttons her suit jacket and shrugs it off, then drapes it over Erin’s shoulders. 

“Thanks,” Erin whispers. She’s fixed very intently on Holtz’s face. With an expression of deep concentration, she reaches up and brushes Holtz’s hair from where it had started to fall out of place. Her hand lingers there for a beat or two after. 

“Very welcome, you are, yessssss,” Holtz says in her best Yoda voice, which always makes Erin laugh.

Once again, it works. Erin bursts into giggles, and the spell is broken. 

Or at least Holtz can tell herself that.

 

Chapter 3

They wrap up the session after the kiss and make their way back to Erin’s apartment for the last time. Franklin and Mizzy pack up their gear while Robbie sits on the couch flicking through photos on the screen of xyr camera. 

Xe stands and joins Franklin and Mizzy at the door when they’re finished gathering their things. 

“Thanks again for coming out,” Holtz says, giving them all one-armed hugs. 

“How much do we owe you for all this?” Erin asks. “I’ll get it.”

They all begin protesting and waving her off.

“Love, we did this as a favour to our girl,” Franklin says, sidling up to Holtz and throwing an arm around her. “She’s helped our asses out more times than we can count.”

“And we love her,” Mizzy agrees. 

Robbie grins. “Besides, this was fun. I’ll get a few of the best shots edited and sent to y’all by tonight so you can take them on your trip, and then I’ll get the rest sent to you as soon as I can.”

Erin looks dismayed. “Are you sure none of you will accept money?”

“If I ever see a ghost at one of my shows, I’m expecting a free bust, how bout that?” Franklin says. 

Holtz shrugs one shoulder. “Eh, don’t know if I can promise that. We’re very in-demand.”

Erin glares at her. “She’s kidding. Of course we’ll be there.”

“I gueeeessssss,” Holtz agrees dramatically. 

Mizzy chuckles. “Alright, well, I gotta bounce. Good luck in Michigan, and with…uh…everything else.”

“It was nice to meet you,” Erin says. “All of you.”

Franklin gives Holtz one last squeeze. “I’ll text you about the show.”

“Roger that.”

Robbie waves. “You’ll hear from me tonight.” 

Holtz waves back.

Then the three of them are gone, leaving the newlyweds alone. 

Erin shuts the apartment door and rolls her shoulders back. “I guess we should head into work?”

Holtz snorts. “Of course not.”

Erin seems offended. “There’s still a few hours left in the workday.”

Holtz gazes at her. “You really want to go back to where Abby and Patty are waiting, armed with questions?”

Erin grimaces. “Okay, maybe not.”

“Plus, don’t you have to pack for our flight tomorrow?”

“I’m already packed.”

Holtz rolls her eyes. Of course she is. “Well, I need to pack. And take our outfits to the drycleaners.”

Erin perks up. “Let me do that. You’ve done enough already.”

“You sure?” 

“Yeah, absolutely. I’ll take them in and then drop them off at the shop when they’re done. I’m sure I can find someone who will do them same-day. What was the name of that place that we busted last year?”

“No clue, you’ll have to call Kevin and have him pull the file.”

Erin grimaces again. “Okay, maybe I’ll just find a place in the phone book.”

“You have a phone book?”

“You don’t?”

“Burnt it for warmth.”

Erin gives her an unamused smile. “Funny.” 

“I’m going to go change,” Holtz says, pointing down the hall. She doesn’t feel like she can change in front of Erin now, not anymore. 

 

Shortly after, Holtz has given her suit to Erin to take to the dry cleaners, and is back in the clothes she came in. 

“Alright, I’m heading out,” she calls.

“Wait, before you go.” Erin looks nervous. “I have a question.”

Holtz freezes. 

When she doesn’t get an answer, Erin continues. “I’m curious—how do you know that gang? I didn’t realize…I mean I didn’t know that…well, I didn’t think you had other friends.” Her face flushes. 

“Oh.” Holtz looks at the door as if they’re still there. “I don’t, really. They’re just…people I know.”

Erin follows her gaze. “They seem like friends to me. Don’t know many casual acquaintances who would go out of their way to do favours like that.”

Holtz shifts uncomfortably. “I guess.”

“So how do you know them?”

“Uhhhhh…” Holtz scratches her neck. “Dunno, I just…met them over the years. I met Franklin first. I was new to the city—just starting my postdoctoral research at Columbia, and—”

“You were at Columbia?!” Erin interrupts, mouth falling open.

Holtz raises an eyebrow. “You never knew that?”

“Of course I never knew that! You’ve never said that! When? How long were you there? How?”

Holtz crosses her arms with an amused smirk. “This isn’t really part of the story.”

Erin bites her lip. “Fine. I’ll grill you about Columbia later.”

“Anyway, I was heading home one night during my first week in the city and I got on the wrong train. Ended up completely lost. That’s when I found Franklin. He was sitting across from me on the train and took one look at me and decided that I was a lost little baby dyke who needed to be taken under his glittery wing. Ended up following him to his show that night. Met his whole crowd. And I kept going back after that. That’s how I met Robbie and Mizzy eventually, they travelled in the same circles.” She pauses, considering on the one hand that Abby swore her to secrecy years ago, but also considering that Abby sold her out earlier.

“I met Abby through that crowd,” she decides to add, tacking it on casually.

Erin frowns at this. “Really? I thought you met her through your research. I swear that’s what you said before.” 

Holtz shrugs. “Sure.”

Erin’s eyes narrow as she processes that. “Abby is friends with Franklin?”

“Not as much anymore. Used to spend a lot of time together.”

“Abby hung out with the drag crowd?” Erin is sounding more and more confused.

“Still does,” Holtz says under her breath.

Erin blinks. “I had no idea Abby was into drag. Does she still go to shows? That sounds like fun. I should go with her sometime.”

Holtz makes a face at Erin, willing her to make the connection. 

Erin studies her for a few more moments. “Wait…Abby doesn’t do drag.”

Holtz’s eyebrows raise further.

“Abby does drag?!”

“Let’s put it this way. I knew Abby for months before I ever knew what her real name was.”

Erin’s mouth falls open again. “Abby?”

“Ask her to meet Tony sometime.”

“I don’t believe this.” 

“Anyway,” Holtz says. “I used to hang out with that crowd quite a bit, went to all the shows but also their rehearsals and stuff.”

“Did you do—”

“Nah, not me. They tried to pull me on the stage more times than I could count but I was never really interested. Picked up a few moves though. And I used to help them out with their shows. With my, uh…affinity for pyrotechnics.”

“Oh no…”

“It got a little out of hand sometimes,” Holtz admits. “You know me, I’ve got a guy for everything. Including illegal materials.”

“Believe me, I know,” Erin mutters. 

“So yeah.” Holtz waves her hand. “Not that interesting. They’re just people I know. Abby’s the only one I really stayed friends with. You know, especially after she convinced me to quit my postdoc fellowship and join her at Higgins instead.”

Erin clicks her tongue. “So that’s why you’ve never mentioned Columbia.”

“Sure.” Holtz shrugs. “I was only there a few months.”

Erin’s mouth turns disapprovingly. 

“Anyway, I better bounce. See ya tomorrow morning?”

“Yes—oh, I’ll have my cab pick you up so we can travel to the airport together.” 

Holtz fights back a smile. “In other words, you don’t trust me to make it to our flight ontime?”

“Correct. I’ll see you at 3:30.”

Holtz makes a face. “In the morning?”

“Yes. Do you need me to schedule a wake-up call?”

“Nah, I’ll be there. Groggy, but there.” 

Erin smiles. “See you then. And Holtz—thanks again for today.”

Holtz salutes and slips out of the apartment. 

 

Holtz hasn’t even made it home yet when Patty texts her. 

Drinks tonight?

No can do, early morning flight tmrw, she texts back. 

Her phone lights up with a new message instantly. Come on, we haven’t had any Patty-Holtzy time in ages

Seriously, Erin’s making us leave at 3:30. No drinks. Roller skate date?

A bit of a longer pause this time, then Patty replies with a string of X emojis. My knee is still fucked from last time. Park?

Holtz thinks about the park, and all she can think about is taking photos with Erin. She sighs loudly and shakes her head as if Patty can see her. The white-haired lady sitting across from her on the train watches her with interest. 

Shakes n corn? she counters. 

Done, Patty sends back. You get the corn. Meet you there. 5:30?

Holtz sends back an alien emoji and turns off her phone.

 

At 5:15, Holtz is standing in the concessions line at the AMC absentmindedly playing a match-3 game on her phone when she gets an email notification. She’s about to swipe it away when she sees that it’s from Robbie and her heart jumps into her throat.

She clicks into the email quickly. The message is short (A few to get you started - R) but there are four attachments. 

For a moment, she’s not sure if she can do it—then she opens the first one. 

It’s one of the engagement photos. Holtz recognizes it immediately—it was when they were testing the “more intimate” poses and she had made Erin laugh. They’re embraced, Erin is mid-laugh, and the look on Holtz’s face is of pure adoration. 

Well, shit. 

She hurriedly checks the next photo. This one is a wedding one. They’re standing on the stairs. Erin is standing on the left, her back to Holtz, with her head turned back to look at her and her arm outstretched. Holtz is standing behind her, her own hand reaching to meet Erin’s with an easy grin on her face. Erin’s dress is swept dramatically over the steps. Holtz doesn’t know much about photography, but it’s a beautiful shot. 

The next one is another engagement shot. This one is much tamer—a classically corny shot of Erin holding her ring up in the foreground with their heads blurred in the background. 

Holtz holds her breath and clicks on the final photo.

It’s a wedding shot, and it’s from their second kiss. 

Her heart is racing.

Again, it’s a wonderful shot. It’s cropped fairly close, only showing from their waists up. Erin’s left hand is holding Holtz’s face, which means her rings are visible, but they’re not the focal point of the photo. 

Her whole body is burning. She can’t stop studying every detail of their embrace. It’s almost scary how believable of a photo it is. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say this was a real wedding photo from a real couple. There’s no visible tension, no awkward posing. 

“Next?” a voice calls out.

Her head snaps up to see that she’s holding up the line. She quickly shoves her phone in her pocket and steps forward to order.

 

Shortly after, she ducks inside the ice cream shop three doors down from the theatre, clutching a large bucket of popcorn.

“Holtzmann!” the man behind the counter exclaims. “Been a long time! How you been?”

She beams. “Can’t complain. You?”

“All good,” Lewis said cheerfully. “Your usual?”

“For both of us,” she replies. “Patty’ll get them.” 

He nods happily. “Enjoy!”

She salutes with her free hand and then crosses the shop to the door at the back marked STAFF ONLY, slipping inside. 

She ducks through the small kitchen filled with the whirs of ice cream being churned and finds the door that leads to the stairs. She hums to herself as she climbs the first flight of stairs, past the entrance to Lewis’s apartment, and then up the second set that leads to the roof.

Then she stakes out a spot on Lewis’s rooftop oasis—her favourite is the hammock chair—and sticks her hand in the popcorn bucket.

Patty joins her less than five minutes later, holding two frosty cups. 

“You better not have eaten all of that,” she warns, handing Holtz one of the cups. 

Holtz tips the popcorn bucket in her direction so she can see how much is left, then she takes a long pull from her milkshake. 

It’s thick and sugary, and the lime taste puckers her mouth just so. The perfect milkshake—and it better be, considering it was created in her honour. The “Ecto-Key Slime Pie” was added to the menu just for her. 

Patty settles into a lounge chair beside her, slurping from her own milkshake, the “New York Peppermint Patty”. She pulls a full-sized York peppermint pattie from the top of it and takes a bite, then sighs. 

Holtz alternates with a handful of popcorn. “Good?”

“Always.” 

Holtz hands the popcorn bucket over to Patty and focuses on her milkshake. “So, you gonna grill me now?”

Patty eyes her. “I figured you’d had enough of that.”

Holtz widens her eyes and tips her head, then takes a very loud pull from her shake. 

They snack in silence for a while. 

“So this wasn’t a ruse to hear all the details?” she asks finally.

Patty rolls her eyes. “Can’t I just wanna spend time with my best friend?”

Holtz shrugs. 

Patty passes her the popcorn. “Really. Not here to give you a hard time. I was never trying to push, you know. You’re an adult and can make your own decisions.”

Holtz swings lazily from side to side in her hammock chair and nods.

Patty appraises her. “I just love you and want to make sure you’re thinking with your brain and not your…”

“Crotch?” Holtz offers.

“Was gonna say heart, but sure.” 

Holtz snorts. “Aren’t you supposed to think with your heart?”

“Not when your heart is in love with the girl you’re ‘platonically’ married to,” Patty says, doing the air quotes with buttery fingers. 

Holtz takes an even louder pull of her milkshake before, maintaining eye contact. 

Patty holds up her hand in defence. “Hey, all I’m gonna say. Don’t want to see you hurt. That’s all.”

“You wanna see wedding photos?” Holtz asks instead of responding, unlocking her phone and turning the screen towards her.

“Lord help me,” Patty says, but leans in to look.

 

Later that night, Holtz is in bed ready to turn off the light when her phone lights up with another text, this one from Robbie.

Dunno, just like this one ;)

She taps on the attached photo to enlarge it. 

It’s in Erin’s apartment. There’s Erin, standing in front of the mirror in her living room wearing her dress with Simone and Keerthi behind her making adjustments. All three of them are blurred.

The focus is in the background. Over by the kitchen, Holtz is standing. Staring. A look on her face that says absolutely everything. 

She swears under her breath, sends back an upside down smiley, and saves the photo to her phone along with the others. She hasn’t forwarded any of them to Erin yet. 

With that, she sets her alarm for 3:15am to give herself just enough time to throw on some clothes and meet Erin downstairs, and then she turns off the light.

 

She wakes up to a blaring noise coming from her phone and startles awake. She fumbles for it, and it takes her a few seconds to realize it’s not her wake-up alarm. It’s a big glowing red screen.

It’s the app she engineered, summoning her for an emergency ghost call.

She groans loudly and turns on the light. Her hodgepodge alarm clock that she likes to take apart when she can’t sleep says that it’s 1:15am. 

She swipes across the screen, which takes her right into an audio call. 

“Really?” she says.

“Fraid so,” Abby says in her ear. 

There’s a tone and then Patty’s there. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Another tone and Erin joins. “Abby, I’m leaving for the airport in an hour and forty-five minutes. We can’t.”

“Wish this was an opt-out situation, ladies,” Abby says. “But this one’s a doozy.” 

“How much of a doozy?” Holtz asks.

“One of the oldest cathedrals in the city,” Abby says. There’s suddenly a loud crashing noise in the background. “Friggity frack, there goes the stained glass.”

Patty sucks in a breath.

Holtz rubs the sleep from her eyes and yawns. “On our way.”

 

She’s the first to arrive. She’s still fighting back sleep as she unlocks the back of the Ecto where Abby parked it and slides out the three remaining proton packs. 

Patty arrives less than a minute later as Holtz is checking the settings on the packs. She grunts a sleepy hello to Holtz and continues poring over her tablet where she’s no doubt trying to look up information about the ghost.

Erin’s cab pulls up not long after. She looks grumpy. 

“Your jumpsuit is on inside out,” Holtz remarks without looking up. 

Erin groans. 

The three of them get geared up and head inside, on their in-ear Bluetooth comms with Abby as they enter the cathedral. 

Inside shows the damage the ghost has already done. Two windows are shattered, coloured glass coating the floor and pews. It crunches under Holtz’s boots. 

They find Abby crouched behind one of the pews and join her down there.

“You managed to find anything?” she asks Patty.

“Nothing,” Patty says, tipping her tablet in her direction. “No reported hauntings. No graveyard on the property. You said humanoid?”

“I haven’t been able to get a good look at it, but I think so.”

Patty shrugs. “Someone wronged by the Catholic Church?”

The four of them exchange looks.

“So could really be anyone,” Erin says. 

Holtz lets out a low whistle. 

“Any civilians? Who called?” Erin asks. 

Abby hooks her thumb towards the righthand wall. “There’s an adjoining homeless shelter. The night manager over there heard the commotion and thought someone had broken into the church. He got a glimpse of it—he’s the one who called.”

“Have they all been evacuated?” Patty asks.

Abby nods. “Or at least I told them to. He said he was going to call the priest—he lives in the clergy house next door.”

“What’s he gonna do, come exorcise it?” Holtz asks with a snicker.

“He better not—I gave the night manager strict instructions to not let anybody into the building.”

“So what’s the game plan?” Patty cuts in. “Because I’d like to get out of here before the night is up.”

Holtz cracks her knuckles. “I say we go in with attack pattern X-42.”

Three blank stares fix on her. 

“In English?” Patty asks.

Holtz pouts. “Didn’t anybody watch the instructional videos I made?”

Erin gives her a look. “How did you expect us to take those seriously with the wigs?”

“How else was I supposed to differentiate between us in the formations?”

Abby shakes her head. “We’re wasting time. Just tell us what to do.”

Holtz illustrates with her hands. “We huddle with our backs to each other and make our way into the centre of the room, then split off into the four corners, keeping our backs to each other. Like an X!” 

“What’s the 42 for?” Erin asks.

“The Answer to the Ultimate Question of Life, the Universe, and Everything,” Holtz says seriously. 

“Oh, of course,” Erin says.

Abby stands. “Alright, let’s do this.”

The rest of them stand.

“Don’t forget, X-42 relies on the entity not being directly overhead and dropping into the centre of the room when we’re separated, so keep an eye overhead,” Holtz reminds everyone. 

“Have you actually tested the efficacy of these?” Patty mutters.

“I modelled them virtually,” Holtz says. “You’d know that if you watched my videos.”

Abby hushes them. They fall into place in a back-to-back huddle and begin inching their way into the centre of the room, proton guns ready in their hands. The church is quiet. 

Once in the centre, they fan out. X-42 might not be the most perfect pattern for a church, Holtz thinks as she winds her way through the pews. She scans overhead periodically, but there’s no movement. Her digital watch-turned-miniature PKE metre is open and the tiny prongs are spinning with no real trace of anything paranormal. 

“Readings are low,” she says quietly into her comm. “No sign of anything in front left.”

“Nothing in back right,” Patty says.

“Negative in front right,” Abby agrees.

Erin’s voice is crackly—Holtz has been meaning to fix her comm. “All clear in back left—I don’t know, you guys, are we sure it wasn’t just a couple of bored teenagers?”

Not a second later, the cathedral fills with the loud, echoing notes of an organ. 

Holtz whips around and sees the others do the same. 

“Bored teenagers who play the organ?” she cracks.

Abby makes gestures, pointing first at Patty and herself and then at the upper level of the back of the church where the music is coming from. 

“Use your words,” Patty says over the comm.

Abby sighs. “Patty, with me—let’s try to get upstairs. Erin, Holtzmann, head to the back to provide coverage. We’ll try to chase him down.”

“Roger that,” Holtz says. The organ continues to echo loudly.

Before any of them can move, there’s a rustling breeze and every single candle in the cathedral lights itself. 

“Aw, what the hell?” Patty looks around. “Thought ghosts are supposed to knock out the lights, not light them.”

“Organ-playing arsonist?” Abby asks.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Erin says, voice still exceptionally crackly on the comm. “Holtz, do you have those snap things?”

Holtz perks up. “You mean my soon-to-be-patented Holtzmann Fire Putter-Outers? Or, HFPOs?”

“Yeah, do you have one on you?”

Holtz eyes the flickering candles. “Yeah—they do better with small surface areas, though. And chemical fires.”

“Still, good to have just in case,” Erin says. 

“I’m going to call the fire department to be on standby,” Abby says. “Give me a second, then we’ll move.”

Holtz continues to scan the room while she listens to Abby call up the dispatcher and give them their location with instructions to wait outside until called in. She points her PKE watch in the direction of the organ music, but it doesn’t react any more than it already is. 

“Alright, let’s roll,” Abby says, motioning to Patty. The two of them disappear to find the stairs, while Holtz and Erin slowly approach the back of the church below the organ. 

The watch gets a little faster, but not by much. 

Abby’s voice comes in her ear. “Approaching the landing. Can’t see anything yet—oh—oh wait, definite spectral activity. I can see blue light coming from around the corner.”

“Be careful,” Erin says. 

The music gets louder. If you could call it music—it mostly just sounds like a series of loud notes reverberating through the building.

Holtz taps the Bluetooth in her ear to turn the microphone off. “What do we think?” she asks Erin beside her. “Disgruntled ex-organist for the church?”

Erin scoffs. “If it was an ex-organist for the church, he’d know how to play.”

The music cuts off with the loudest and most awful screeching and crashing noises, loud enough that they both jump. The cacophony is unlike anything Holtz has heard before—it sounds like a house being demolished except worse.

Then there’s a scream, and that’s when she looks overhead and sees the mangled body of a massive pipe organ coming careening over the railing right towards them.

“Erin!” she shouts, and doesn’t think, just shoves her and dives. 

The organ comes crashing to the ground a foot away from where they fall, and explodes with flying debris. There’s screaming coming from multiple directions. 

Holtz coughs and groans. She landed on her side. Erin is right beside her, on her stomach. 

“I think you insulted him.” Holtz says. She winces as she tries to right herself. Her shoulder doesn’t feel great. “You okay?”

Erin also coughs. “I’m okay.” 

Abby and Patty are frenetic in her ear. She reaches up to turn her mic on again. “We’re okay,” she gets out. 

Erin lets out a pained hiss and Holtz looks over to see her holding up her hand, a shard of blue stained glass in her palm. 

“Erin needs minor medical,” Holtz says calmly into the comm.

“We’re on our way,” Abby says. “Watch out for the ghost—I don’t know where he went after that little stunt.”

Erin pulls herself into a seated position. “Nearly unscathed.”

“Could’ve been worse.”

Erin eyes the wreckage past Holtz. “No kidding.”

Patty and Abby reach them a moment later. Patty is already unzipping the small first-aid kid on her hip. 

Erin smiles weakly and holds up her hand. “Just a cut. I match Holtz.”

“Huh?” Holtz looks down at her hand and remembers her glass cut from the bar the other night. “Oh, right.”

Abby offers her a hand. “You good? We should go do a sweep while Patty gets her patched up.” She pulls her to her feet. 

Holtz feels her shoulder. It doesn’t feel dislocated, thankfully—she must’ve just came down on it hard. She’ll probably have a gnarly bruise there. The wand of her proton pack is dangling near the floor. She grabs it and gives it a quick look over. There might be one or two new scuffs, but other than that it’s okay. 

“Let’s go.”

They creep around the organ carnage carefully. The cathedral is still and quiet again. 

“We didn’t get a look at him before he threw the organ,” Abby says. “We raced around after, but he was already gone. You should see the mess he made up there ripping it out. Patty said it’s millions of dollars worth of damage.”

“Could’ve killed us,” Holtz adds.

“Yeah, that too.”

They walk slowly up the aisle towards the altar, checking all angles as they do so for any flash of movement or a glowing form. There’s movement behind them and they both whirl around, but it’s just Erin and Patty. Erin’s hand is freshly wrapped in gauze but she looks otherwise fine. 

Holtz nudges her when they reach them. “You good?”

“I’m good. Thanks for saving my life.”

“Anytime, chickadee. Even if you weren’t my wife.”

“Save the flirting for later,” Abby says. “We’ve got a ghost to catch.”

“Preferably before he does any more damage to this church.” Patty glances around. “Everything’s original in here. Look at the woodwork—we really don’t want a fire starting in here.”

“He seems really considerate of that,” Holtz says, looking pointedly at the shattered organ. 

“I don’t wanna talk about that,” Patty says, wincing. 

“There!” Erin shouts suddenly, pointing. There’s a flash of blue above the altar. 

All four of them point their guns that way, but there’s nothing steady to aim at. 

Suddenly, a small flying projectile comes their way, nearly hitting Abby in the head. It’s only when it hits the ground that they see what it is.

“Are you kidding me?” Patty says as another Bible comes flying at them. 

One narrowly misses Holtz’s ear. She ducks.

“Talk about throwing religion in our face,” Abby cracks. 

A Bible hits her square in the chest and falls to the floor with a thud.

“Bible-thumping,” Holtz deadpans. 

Patty snorts, but another one comes hurtling right at her face. She yelps. “Mother fu—”

“House of worship, Patricia,” Holtz trills. 

“Scatter!” Abby commands. 

They run, trying to hide behind pews. Bibles continue to whiz over their heads. 

There’s a crashing noise from near the front of the church. 

“Oh, God,” Patty says over the comms. 

“I don’t think he’s home right now,” Holtz quips. 

“He hit the candles. We’ve got a fire.” 

Holtz pops up and sees the knocked-over candles up on the altar. Patty is closest. 

Erin yelps. “Holtz, the…Huff-Poo! Quick!”

“You mean the HFPO?” 

“Holtz.”

“A-yup. Patty, go long.” Holtz yanks the sandwich-sized square off the side of her pack and tosses it to Patty. “Snap the bag and throw it directly into the flames.”

Patty catches it out of the air, snaps it, and throws it. As soon as it hits the flames, it explodes in a shower of white powder. 

“That…didn’t really help,” she says a second later.

“I did say it does best with small surface areas,” Holtz says.

“Ghostbusters to dispatch,” Abby is saying into a walkie-talkie. “Send in a small team, we’ve got a fire in the south-east section of the cathedral, up near the altar. Take caution; there’s an active malevolent spirit on the loose.”

No sooner has the final word left her mouth when there’s another flash of blue and she’s in the air. She flies backwards twenty feet or so, and then crashes into the pews behind her with a loud splintering of wood.

Holtz swears. She’s about to run that way when she sees a more solid streak of blue above her. 

“I’ve got eyes on it,” she says. 

“I’ll get Abby,” Patty says. “Y’all take care of it.”

“Got it—Erin, you see it?”

“Yeah—hang on, is that—”

Holtz whistles, impressed. “Holtzy to GB—our culprit is none other than a little old church lady.”

Erin gazes up at the humanoid form hovering above the altar. “Are you kidding me? How’d she get so strong? She looks like she’s like a hundred years old.”

Holtz makes a face. “Must be all that blood of Christ running through her veins.”

“Ma’am?” Erin calls. “You know this isn’t very Catholic behaviour, right? Is this what God would want?”

The old lady unhinges her jaw and screams murderously. 

“Got it,” Holtz says. “Erin?”

“Now.”

They both unleash proton streams, entangling the ghost. She writhes and screams. 

Two firefighters have reached the altar fire, and they’re eyeing the ghost commotion cautiously. Holtz gives them a nod of her chin. 

“So, trap or decimate?” she asks the comms. 

It’s Patty who responds. “Trap,” she says. “Now I really gotta know who this lady is.”

Holtz grumbles. Destruction is more fun. 

“Trap hitting the floor,” she calls. She launches the trap from her pack and sends it to the base of the stairs. The ghost is still thrashing in their proton beams. 

“Y’all got her, or do you need me?” Patty asks. 

“I think she’s holding,” Erin says. “Holtz?” 

“On three.” She readies her boot over the trap button. They steer the ghost lower. “One—two—”

She slams down on the button and the trap opens. The screaming intensifies, and then the little hellraiser is sucked inside and it closes after her. 

“The ghost is in the box,” Holtz announces. “I repeat, the ghost is in the box.”

They both jog over to the smoking trap. 

“How’s Abby?” Erin asks the comm.

“Conscious,” Patty replies. 

“If you ladies are done, you better evacuate,” one of the firefighters calls. It looks like they’ve got the fire mostly under control, but there’s smoke filling the air that’s not coming from the trap. 

Holtz salutes them and grabs the trap. “Let’s get out of here.”

They reach Patty and Abby, who’s lying on her back on the ground between the pews. Patty has managed to remove her proton pack, and it’s sitting against the splintered wood where she collided. 

“Should I call for a stretcher?” Erin asks. 

“They’re already on their way in,” Patty replies. 

“Broken rib I think,” Abby says. She’s out of breath. 

Patty eyes her. “Didn’t I tell you to be quiet?” 

Abby glares at her. 

Patty glances at the two of them. “I’ll take her to the hospital. Y’all should take the Ecto back to HQ and head home.”

They both start protesting. 

“Your flight’s in a few hours,” Abby pipes up. “I’ll be fine.”

Erin checks her watch. “Shoot. Holtz, our cab is supposed to be meeting us in less than 45 minutes.”

Holtz screws up her eyes and rubs her temples. “You go home. I’ll take the Ecto back, ditch our gear, take a shower, and you can pick me up from the Firehouse to go to the airport.”

“What about your stuff?” 

“My apartment is on the way.” She digs her keys out of her pocket and takes off her apartment key. “My bag is packed. Just run inside and grab it on your way to get me. The cab can wait for you outside, right?”

Erin eyes the key. “I guess so.”

“It’s the best option,” Holtz says. “I won’t be able to make it to the Firehouse and back home in time.”

“Fine,” Erin says. “I better go, then.” She shoots one last uncomfortable look at Abby. “Are you sure that—”

“Go,” Abby and Patty say in unison.

“Leave your pack by the car,” Holtz instructs. 

As Erin winds her way down the line of pews, Holtz reaches for Abby’s pack, which looks like it’s damaged. “Text us later?”

Patty nods. “Any chance you can take mine, too?” 

The paramedics have arrived with a stretcher. 

“Sorry, full hands,” Holtz says with a grimaces. Between Abby’s pack and the full trap, she’s already carrying more than she can. The packs are heavy. She moves out of the way so the paramedics can access Abby. “I can come back in to—”

“It’s fine,” Patty promises. “Talk later. Let us know when you get to Detroit.”

Holtz nods and slips away. 

 

There’s a crowd outside despite the late hour, presumably evacuees from the shelter next door. She does her best to load the car without anyone noticing her, but she’s only managed to get one of the packs in before a man is in her face, introducing himself as the priest and demanding to know what’s happened. 

“I’ve got another call to get to,” she lies tiredly without stopping, “and the rest of my team requires medical assistance. We’ll be in touch within 5-10 business days for a debrief and to discuss payment.”

“Payment?” he repeats with mild horror.

She rubs her fingers and thumb together in his direction and then lifts Abby’s damaged pack into the back of the Ecto. “Now if you don’t mind, I need to get out of here.”

By the time she’s loaded all the gear, Patty is already emerging from the church with the paramedics carrying Abby on a stretcher. She ditches her pack with Holtz on her way by, and Holtz quickly loads it in and gets in the car. She pulls out while they’re transferring Abby into the back of the waiting ambulance. 

She’s not particularly worried—they’ve had worse, all of them. Still, it’s never fun when a bust ends at the hospital. 

She zips back to the firehouse and loads the ghost into the containment unit as quickly as she can, keeping the cataloguing to the bare minimum—class, date, time, and location of collection, physical attributes (“old lady”), and notes (“doesn’t like it when you insinuate she’s a bad Catholic”—she can’t resist). She’ll add a more detailed log when she gets back from Michigan, or the others can do it. Then hops into the upstairs shower to rinse off the sweat and debris. She’s digging through her locker for some clean clothes when her phone buzzes—her 3:15am wake-up alarm. 

She dresses hastily and heads to her lab where she left Abby’s busted pack. Sleeves rolled up, she sets to work, trying to do as much as she can to fix it before Erin comes. She doesn’t want to leave them down a pack, even if it’s only for a few days. 

She’s unscrewing the Faraday cage when her phone buzzes again, this time with a call.

“Hey,” she answers, tucking the phone between her ear and shoulder and continuing to work. 

“I’m at your apartment,” Erin says. “Is it just the duffle bag?”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t need this…er…Ziploc bag full of toiletries that’s on your bathroom counter?”

Holtz sticks her tongue out with concentration so she doesn’t get electrocuted. “Why’d you say that so judgmentally?”

“No reason,” Erin says. “I know what to get you for Christmas. Do you have your phone?”

Holtz pauses and smirks. And she thought she was tired. “Yeah. Yeah, I got my phone.”

“I’m unplugging the charger that’s by your bed,” Erin says distractedly. “Assuming you need that.”

“Ah, yes.”

“And the wedding ring that’s on your nightstand.”

Another pause. “Oops. Good catch.”

“Anything else? Should I just do a sweep?”

“My leather jacket,” Holtz replies. “Should be hanging on the back of the couch.”

There are a few seconds of Erin just breathing and muttering to herself. “Nope, no jacket on the couch.”

“Kitchen table?”

“Do you mean the folding card table?”

“I’m going to pretend to ignore the judgement that time.”

“Not there either. Do you have a coat closet? Or a coat rack?”

Holtz snorts. “I definitely wore it home today.”

“Oh, I found it. Crumpled up on the floor in the kitchen.”

“Ah, just where I left it.”

Erin sighs. “Alright, I’m going to assume that’s everything. On our way to you now. Be outside ready to go.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Holtz says. The call disconnects and she sets her phone on the workbench. She knows exactly how long it will take them to reach her, so she asks Siri to set an alarm for precisely two minutes before then.

She’s in the middle of rejoining two wires when the alarm goes off, so she ignores it. She’s made good headway on Abby’s pack. With a few more minutes, she could get it back in working order. 

She actually swears when her phone goes off again. She swipes and answers the call. “Sorry. Be right down.”

She hangs up before Erin can answer. 

With a final resigned look at the nearly-working pack, she grabs her phone and keys and runs.

 

Erin looks unhappy when Holtz slides into the back of the cab beside her. 

“Sorry I’m late, babe,” Holtz says. 

Erin gives her a look that’s more confusion than exasperation. “I did say to be outside.”

“Was trying to fix Abby’s pack before I left. Antique wood is stronger than I thought.”

Erin turns to watch out the window, away from Holtz. “Looked like she did more damage than it did, from what I saw of those pews.”

Holtz shrugs. “I care more about my baby than about some old wood.”

Erin looks back, eyes narrowing. “And Abby.”

“Right. I care more about my baby than some old wood and Abby.”

Erin swats her arm. Holtz winks.

 

Chapter 4

They’re the first ones at their gate, somewhat comically. Holtz is pretty sure that Erin was counting on her to cause a scene at security by bringing something she wasn’t supposed to, but Holtz knows the drill. She’s had one too many government talking-tos and the only reason she isn’t on a no-fly list is because a power higher than the TSA intervened and made it clear that she isn’t dangerous—just an idiot. 

They’ve barely sat down when they get a text from Patty—a photo of an annoyed-looking Abby in an ER hospital bed. Two broken ribs and whiplash. Keeping her until they confirm that her back isn’t injured. She’s real happy about that, as you can tell

Another text, this one from Abby, comes through right away. All I said was that my back hurt and they’re all in a tizzy. I told them you try having a church pew slam into a 50lb metal box that slams into your vertebrae like the world’s worst dominoes chain. If they’d just look I’m sure they’d see a bruise the size of Neptune and stop rambling about spinal cord injuries

Erin tsks. Keep us updated. We have a few hours until our flight.

Holtz types a response too. Abby’s pack is a no-go. Use Erin’s if there’s a call

Why can’t I use yours? Abby writes.

Because it’s mine, Holtz replies. :) 

She locks her phone and shoves it in her pocket, then leans back in her chair. “I’m gonna take a nap. Wake me up when we’re boarding.”

With that, she closes her eyes and is out like a light.

 

She wakes up to the smell of coffee, and it’s tantalizing enough to make her open her eyes. Erin is sipping from a to-go cup and gazing in the opposite direction out at the tarmac. Holtz’s eyes travel downwards and spots an identical cup resting on the empty seat between them. 

“When’d ya leave?” she asks.

Erin jumps slightly and turns her head. “Finally—you’ve been conked out forever. Figured you could probably use some caffeine.”

Holtz picks up the coffee and tips her head towards Erin before taking a sip. It’s still hot. 

“I’ve only been back for ten minutes,” Erin says. “Don’t worry, I took our bags with me so someone wouldn’t steal them from you.”

Holtz snorts against the lid of her cup. “Oh thank god, that’s what I was worried about.”

Erin misses the sarcasm. “Hopefully it’s okay? Three sugars, right?”

“It’s great,” Holtz promises. “Did you sleep at all?”

“Of course not,” Erin scoffs. “What if someone stole our bags?”

“Right, right, of course.” Holtz bobs her head and hides a smirk behind her cup. 

 

Their flight is uneventful. Holtz sleeps for most of it. They land on time in Detroit, pick up their rental car without a hitch, and soon they’re bound for Battle Creek. Holtz asks if they should put her name on the rental so they can both drive, but Erin swears she’ll be fine to drive—even if she hasn’t done it in a while. 

Erin is driving pretty slow on the interstate, and Holtz isn’t sure if it’s because she’s being cautious or if she’s trying to delay their arrival. 

“Are you nervous?” she asks casually, hoping it will nudge her to talk about it either way. 

“I don’t know who wouldn’t be,” Erin replies.

That doesn’t really help Holtz. She makes a noise. “Anything I can do?” she tries.

“You’re doing enough just by being here,” Erin answers. Again, unhelpful. 

Holtz licks her lips and tries a third time. “What are you most nervous about?”

A long pause. “What if it doesn’t work?”

Holtz waits for elaboration.

“What if my mother doesn’t let me meet with the lawyer? What if they find some legal loophole to deny me the money?”

Holtz considers her words. “Do you think that’s likely to happen?”

Erin glances at her. “Knowing my mother? Yes. I don’t think she’ll stop at anything to keep me from that money, just because she can.”

Holtz studies her. “Fine, then. You can play dirty, too. Get yourself a good lawyer.”

“I already told you, it would cost more in legal fees than I’d even get. I don’t have that kind of money.”

This time, Holtz doesn’t think before she speaks. “I do. I’ll pay for the best lawyer we can find.”

Erin actually laughs. “I’m being serious, Holtz.”

“So am I.”

“We’re talking thousands of dollars here,” Erin says. “I’m not going to let you throw away your life’s savings on a dumb legal battle.”

“Wouldn’t scratch the surface,” Holtz says. 

Erin rolls her eyes. “Okay, you can drop the joke now.”

“What joke?”

“Holtz. Not to be rude, but…” Erin glances over again and gives her a once-over. “I’ve been inside your apartment.”

“And?”

Erin presses her lips together and doesn’t say anything. 

“You think I don’t have money,” Holtz says.

Erin still doesn’t say anything, but she does angle her head. 

There’s a split second where Holtz stops and actually thinks, really thinks, about if she wants to do this. Then she inhales, exhales, and turns slightly in her seat to face Erin better.

“When I was finishing up my undergrad, I screwed up some applications and didn’t get any funding or loans for grad school,” she says. 

“Is this supposed to convince me that you have money?” Erin asks.

Holtz shushes her. “I was pretty devastated, because it meant I wasn’t going to be able to go, and one night I went and drowned my sorrows with some cheap booze.”

Erin wrinkles her nose.

“Drunk and depressed, I found myself at a 7/11 getting snacks. And while I was there, I thought hey, my luck can’t get any worse, and I bought a lottery ticket.”

Erin’s head snaps over. “Wait. You won the lottery?”

Holtz hums.

“How much?” Erin says immediately. “Wait, is that rude to ask?”

“$54 million,” Holtz replies.

Erin slams on the breaks. Someone leans on the horn as they pass them. 

“Maybe pull over?” Holtz calmly offers.

“Uh, yeah?” Erin gets out, sounding slightly hysterical. At the next chance, she pulls off to the side of the interstate and slaps her hazards on, and then twists comically fast towards Holtz. “I’m sorry, did you say $54 million dollars?”

Holtz nods.

“You won $54 million dollars in the lottery in college.”

“Yup.”

“$54 million.”

“Uh huh.”

Erin stares, open-mouthed. 

“I’ve given away a good chunk of it,” Holtz explains. “Paid off my loans, then paid my way through grad school. Paid off my favourite foster parents’ mortgage. Made some donations to charities.”

Erin’s mouth is still open. “I’ve seen your apartment,” she repeats.

Holtz shrugs. “I bought a house in the city, but not for me. I offer it up to people in need. Mostly unhoused queer and trans people. Or kids who have been kicked out.” She scratches her ear. “I dunno. I do what I can and don’t ask questions. I think there’s four or five people living there right now.”

Erin blinks at her. 

“Sure, I could spend some more money on myself, but that freaks me out. I don’t want to blow through it all. What if one day I run into someone who needs help but I don’t have anything left?” She shrugs. “I like helping people. Especially when I owe it to them. Like back when Abby and I worked at Higgins, she hurt herself because of a stupid mistake I’d made. Broken bones, MRIs, minor surgery, and a hospital bill for hundreds of thousands of dollars. She didn’t have insurance. I paid it off. Didn’t even blink.”

Erin still looks like she’s reeling. “So Abby knows? That you won the lottery?”

“Nobody knows,” Holtz says. “It’s the biggest secret of my life, and I’m only telling you because we’re married, or whatever, and I feel like you should probably know.”

Erin shakes her head. “So what, Abby thinks you just had that much money lying around for no reason?”

“Told her it was government hush money from a project that they confiscated. She swallowed that pretty easily.”

“I would’ve, too,” Erin admits.

Holtz grins. 

Erin stares out the front windshield, shaking her head slightly. 

“I’ve done other stuff, too,” Holtz adds casually. “You remember when Patty got her research funding for her Master’s and then a week later she got a letter saying she’d received a bunch of extra funding?”

Erin glances at her, eyes narrowing.

“I didn’t pay them off,” Holtz warns. “I made an anonymous donation to the department to set up a scholarship for them to give out as they saw fit. They chose her.” She shrugs again. “Which, yeah, I’d hoped for. But really I just wanted to make sure her department was well funded. I took the chance.”

“And Patty doesn’t know?”

“No. And you won’t tell her, right?”

Erin shakes her head. 

Holtz gazes out the passenger’s side window. “Then there’s probably the biggest one. I bought the Firehouse.”

Erin makes a choking noise. “You what?”

“Bought the Firehouse,” Holtz repeats. She looks back at Erin. “Pretty soon after we started working there.”

Erin is looking at her like she’s crazy. “But…I submit our expenditures to the Mayor’s office every month. He pays our rent.”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t understand.”

“He pays rent to me,” Holtz says. “I’m the landlord.”

“Why?”

“Because my financial advisor told me to diversify my portfolio?”

“Holtz.”

“Kidding. I think I’ve heard obnoxious finance bros use that phrase before.”

“Holtz.”

“Rent is our biggest expense, yeah? Even higher than our salaries?”

“Well yeah, but that’s only because our stipends are insultingly low. Because he’s in favour of funding our research without actually…paying us to do it.”

“Right. So if we didn’t have rent, he’d basically be paying us pennies.”

“Yes.”

“And we don’t get that portion of our budget. It goes to our landlord.”

“Which is…you.”

Holtz coughs. “Right. So turns out what we were being charged in rent far exceeds the costs involved. So I pocket that extra money as income, which I pay a fair amount of taxes on, which goes into our infrastructure and social services. And the rest…well, you know how every quarter we receive a rather large donation from an anonymous donor?”

Erin’s eyes narrow. “Our largest donor by far. Yes.”

“Yeah. That’s me. That’s our rent money from the mayor. Which instead of going to some landlord’s third yacht instead pays for our salaries.”

“Holtz, that’s…”

“Genius?”

“I was going to say fraud of some sort. Oh my god.”

“Ehhh, it’s probably fine.”

“Oh my god. That’s really not fine. That sounds illegal.”

Holtz waves her off.

Erin presses her fingers to her temples. “Okay. We’ll…we’ll discuss that later. Is there anything else I should know? Any crazy life-altering money you’ve thrown in my direction without my knowledge?”

“Nopers.”

“I don’t know if I should be relieved or offended,” Erin jokes.

Holtz grins. “Hey now, I agreed to marry you for your financial benefit, and that was before you knew how much money I have. What more could you ask for?”

Erin pales as she considers that. “You should’ve had me sign a prenup, Holtz, what were you thinking?”

Holtz laughs. “Sure.”

“I’m serious. When we get divorced, I might legally be owed half your fortune. Holy crap, Holtz. Seriously, what were you thinking?”

Holtz scoffs. “I don’t care. Take whatever you want, just use it well.”

Erin exhales loudly. “Wow. You’re…” She shakes her head in disbelief. “I don’t even know what to say. I’m just going to…start driving again. Please don’t spring anything more on me if you want us to make it there in one piece.”

Holtz chuckles to herself. 

 

They arrive in Battle Creek a little later than anticipated due to their brief pitstop, but soon they’re driving past a series of McMansions that have Holtz raising her eyebrows. 

“Welcome to upper middle class suburbia,” she murmurs. “This is where you grew up?”

Erin sighs heavily instead of answering, and pulls to a stop in front of yet another large, unremarkable house with an overly green and perfectly manicured front lawn. It looks identical to every other house on the street. 

“What if we just…turned around and went home?” Erin asks as she turns off the engine. 

“We could.”

She groans and takes the keys out of the ignition. “Let’s get this over with.”

At the front door, Erin presses the doorbell, which they can hear echoing through the house followed by loud yapping.

Erin’s nose wrinkles. “I hate that stupid dog.”

A minute or so passes before the door finally opens, and there’s Erin’s mother. Holtz has only ever seen her in the odd photo from Erin’s childhood, which she assumes Erin has only displayed because of her father. She doesn’t look much like Erin—there’s a bit of similarity in the shape of their faces, but that’s it. Different noses, different eyes…and then there’s the fact that Paula looks disgusted by who is on her doorstep.

“Erin,” she says tightly. “What are you doing here?”

Erin maintains a level tone. “I’m here for Dad’s funeral, obviously. I told you I was coming.”

Paula’s eyes narrow and her gaze shifts to Holtz. “Who are you?”

“She’s my wife,” Erin cuts in, “Hol…milhng.” 

Holtz fights back a snort at Erin stumbling over her name, no doubt wondering halfway through what name to introduce her with and if it’s weird to introduce her by her surname.

Not that it matters—Paula doesn’t seem to register the gibberish at all. 

“Erin Marie,” she says, her eyes dark.

Erin puffs out her chest. “What, mother? Do you have a problem?”

“Do you think this is a game? You come here, to my house, to insult me to my face—”

“Oh, grow up,” Erin replies. “How is showing up here with my wife insulting you?”

Paula recoils at the word. “Stop it.”

“What? Saying the word wife?”

“Stop,” Paula hisses. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing—”

“I’m here to pay respects to my father and collect what’s rightfully mine,” Erin says firmly.

“You call this respect?” Paula’s face is getting redder and redder.

“Yes, mother, I do. Dad would’ve wanted me here, with my wife, happy, and getting the money that he wanted me to have.”

Paula points her finger. “Get off my property.”

“You’re not serious.”

“Go,” Paula all but screeches, her face practically purple now.

Erin shakes her head and grabs Holtz by the arm to tug her away. “Come on.”

Neither of them say anything as they cross the perfect lawn, no doubt on purpose to trample the grass, nor do they say anything as they get into the car. It isn’t until they’re around the block when Holtz realizes that Erin is crying. 

“Maybe pull over?” she suggests gently. 

Erin does, pulling in front of yet another identical house and shifting into park. She rubs at her eyes angrily. “I don’t know what I expected.”

Holtz runs her tongue along her teeth, unsure what to say. 

Erin laughs once. “God, I didn’t even book a hotel. That’s how bad I—” She breaks off and bites down on her lip. “I’m such an idiot for thinking she could be even remotely civil. This is the woman who suggested I shouldn’t come to my own father’s funeral.”

Holtz grimaces. 

“Whatever,” Erin says roughly. “I guess let’s go find a hotel.”

 

Holtz usually stays in cheap hotels when she travels, so she doesn’t really clue in that Erin has picked a pretty nice hotel until they’ve actually entered the room. She was kind of zoned out when they were checking in, too distracted to notice how nice the lobby was, but the room has her doing a double take. It’s massive. Two queen-sized beds with elaborate headboards and an exorbitant amount of pillows, a luxe couch facing a massive flatscreen, a spacious balcony with a nice view…

She whistles.

Erin glances back at her as she sets her purse on the bed closest to the window. “What?”

“Nothing, just nicer lodging than I’m used to.”

Erin holds her gaze. “You’re a millionaire.”

“Say that a little louder, won’t you?”

Erin laughs lightly. She tows her sleek carry-on suitcase to the corner of the room. “You’re okay with the other bed? I like being close to the bathroom. Weak overnight bladder,” she jokes.

Holtz hums her approval, then something occurs to her. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever been in a hotel room where the restroom wasn’t right by the door.”

“It’s because this is a suite.”

“Uh, Erin?” Holtz has ambled over to the bathroom in the corner. 

“What?” Erin walks over, and notices the same thing that Holtz has seen. “Oh…oh my.”

“Well, that’s, um…” Holtz walks into the bathroom and waves at Erin through the completely transparent glass wall.

“Who—there are two beds in this room,” Erin says. “Who do they think is staying here? Oh my gosh.”

Holtz drums her knuckles on the glass. “Yeah, can’t imagine anyone but a couple could make this work.”

Erin pales. “Oh crap. I didn’t even think—when I checked in…” She looks behind her at the room. “Should I have gotten a room with one bed?”

Holtz blinks. “Uh…”

“We’re supposed to be married,” Erin elaborates, turning back as Holtz exits the bathroom and joins her. “What if, I don’t know, someone from my family comes to visit us or something? Won’t it look super weird if we’re in separate beds?”

“Uhhhh…” Holtz’s eyes trail over the beds in question. “We could always lie and say this was all they had available with such short notice.”

Erin nods like a bobblehead. “Yes. Smart.”

There’s a pause while they both stare at each other. Some part of Holtz’s brain is absentmindedly and wistfully imagining what it would’ve been like if they had needed to share a bed. 

“Well, I actually um…have to…” Erin juts her chin past Holtz at the bathroom.

“Ah.” A beat, and Holtz steps out of her way. “I’ll just…”

There’s a slight flush to Erin’s face. “Thanks.”

Holtz ambles over to the couch, which is mercifully facing away from the bathroom, and plops down onto it. There’s a low coffee table with a very fancy-looking book embossed with the name of the hotel, and a shiny remote beside it. She turns on the TV to distract herself. She flicks through the channels quickly at random until she finds something that’s not an ad, and leaves it on that. 

She pulls her phone out of her pocket, having not checked it in a while. She doesn’t have any new notifications, not since her last update from Patty that came in while they were in the air. Abby had been cleared and finally sent home from emerg without being admitted, thankfully. 

Erin joins her a minute later. “Showering is going to be…interesting.”

Holtz snorts. “This would never happen in a cheap hotel.”

Erin scoffs with mock outrage. “Hey.”

Holtz grins. 

 

They watch TV in silence for a while, neither one of them paying much attention to it. Erin is texting someone on her phone, and Holtz is gazing out the window and absentmindedly fiddling with her ring, which she’s been wearing since the plane. 

“The wake is this afternoon,” Erin says finally. 

Holtz glances at her. 

Erin holds up her phone. “I’ve been texting my cousin. She said it’s at 1. She gave me the address.”

“Okay,” Holtz says slowly. There’s something about Erin’s tone of voice that’s off.

She pretends to turn her attention to the TV, but she’s watching Erin out of the corner of her eye. 

Another minute passes before there’s a sniffle. 

Holtz reaches for the remote and mutes the TV, then twists to face Erin, taking in the tears gathering on her cheeks. 

She reaches for her, then changes her mind at the last second and lets her hand fall awkwardly to the couch between them. She hesitates, unsure what to say or do, as always. She feels like she’s getting worse at this. 

“I don’t want to go,” Erin gets out. 

Holtz’s brow crinkles. “To the wake?”

“It’s not even for him. It’s for the family. And I’m family, but I’m not wanted there. Nobody’s going to be offering their condolences to me or sharing their memories of him with me. Nobody’s going to give me a hug and tell me how sorry they are. It’s not for me. They don’t want me there.”

Holtz opens and closes her mouth.

Erin shakes her head and swipes away her tears. “I’ll go to the funeral tomorrow, at the church—they can’t stop me from coming to that. It’s a public funeral. But I—I can’t go today. I don’t want to. I can’t think of anything worse.”

Holtz nods and pauses, thinking for a moment. “Do you have any special memories with your dad? Places you went together, or anything?”

Erin blinks in surprise at the question. “Um…I guess? I don’t know.”

“We could do something else,” Holtz explains. “To honour him. Just for you. If you want to.”

Erin starts crying all over again, but this time she reaches for Holtz’s hand to hold it in her lap, so she thinks she must’ve done something right.

 

They end up at a diner. It’s old, one of those classic joints that looks like it hasn’t changed in 50 years. 

Erin seems nervous as they walk inside, and she reaches for Holtz’s hand again. 

“We used to come every Tuesday night,” Erin says, leading them past the little crooked sign that says please seat yourself and to a booth along the windows at the front of the restaurant. “I can’t believe our old booth is free.”

The diner isn’t packed by any stretch, but there seems to be a steady flow of patrons arriving and leaving. As they take their seats, Erin is preoccupied looking around the diner, a soft but melancholy expression on her face. A waitress comes with a couple of waters and menus and tells them to give her a shout when they’re ready. 

Erin doesn’t touch her menu, clearly already knowing what she’s ordering, but Holtz peruses hers. 

“What’s good?”

“Everything,” Erin replies. “I always got the classic burger. Dad always got the full breakfast—eggs sunny side, brown toast, sausage. We’d share my fries.”

Holtz offers her a smile. “Breakfast does sound good. Will that be a horrible insult if I get that? I don’t wanna be disrespectful.”

Erin waves her off. “No, please do.”

“Or—ooh, waffles,” Holtz says, distracted. “Waffles sound good.”

“I think you can substitute half a waffle for your toast with the full breakfast,” Erin says. 

“Sold.” Holtz flips over the menu and then lets out a soft gasp. “Milkshakes?!”

“Oh, they have the best milkshakes.” Erin sighs happily. “We always used to split a vanilla milkshake. My dad would have a few sips and then claim brainfreeze and let me have the rest.” She laughs lightly. 

“Erin Gilbert,” a kind voice says. 

They both turn and see an old lady with a well-worn apron, holding a tall glass topped with whipped cream and a cherry. 

Erin’s mouth falls open. “Pat?”

Pat sets the glass on the table in front of Erin and rests a hand on her shoulder with a fond smile. “I saw you walk in. Couldn’t believe my eyes.”

“I can’t believe you’re still here,” Erin says. “You look the same as ever.”

“You’ve grown some,” Pat says. “It must’ve been twenty odd years since the last time you were in here.” 

Erin laughs weakly. “I’m sorry. Time flies, huh?” She clears her throat. “Um, this is my…wife. Holtzmann. Holtz, this is Pat. She’s been a waitress here longer than I can remember.”

Holtz stretches her hand to shake Pat’s. “Pleasure.”

“Likewise,” Pat replies with a smile. She releases Holtz’s hand and reaches down to nudge the glass towards Erin. “On the house, honey. I heard about your dad.”

Erin takes in the vanilla milkshake, glances up at Pat, and then bursts into tears. 

Pat crouches beside her with surprising agility for her age and speaks to Erin in a low, soothing tone. Holtz busies herself with the menu, trying to give them some privacy. She still catches the occasional hushed phrase. 

Finally, when Erin’s tears have subsided, Pat stands again. 

“You know, your dad came in every Tuesday,” she says. “Full breakfast and a vanilla shake—not that he ever had much more than a sip. Every week, up until a couple years ago.”

Erin gives Pat a weak smile and takes her first sip of the milkshake, eyes still wet. “I didn’t know.”

Pat smiles and tips her head. “Good man, your dad. One of the best.”

Erin nods.

Pat nods at the milkshake. “How you remember it?”

“Just as good,” Erin says. “Thank you. Really.”

Pat squeezes her shoulder again. “You ready to order?”

Erin looks to Holtz, who bobs her head. 

“My usual…er, old usual,” Erin says. “Cl—”

“Classic burger, extra onions, fries,” Pat says. 

Erin’s smile gets a little stronger. “Thanks, Pat.”

“And you, honey?”

“Full breakfast,” Holtz says. “Scrambled eggs, bacon, and…a half waffle instead of toast?”

“You got it,” Pat says, and with that she whisks away with their menus and leaves them be. 

Erin takes another careful sip of her milkshake and then offers it to Holtz.

Holtz clambers out of the booth, comes around the table, and slides in beside Erin, who looks surprised but pleased. Holtz pulls the shake towards her and takes an undignified slurp, then briefly wonders if that’s disrespectful to the memory of Erin’s father. 

“That is an excellent milkshake,” she concurs. “I’m not usually a vanilla girl, but…”

“It’s good, right? The best,” Erin says. She takes back the glass and has more, humming happily. 

Holtz leans into her with her shoulder and gives her a look, a wordless check-in.

“I’m okay,” Erin replies softly. “Sorry. I just, um…wasn’t expecting to…she caught me off guard with…”

Holtz shakes her head silently, hoping that translates to Erin that she doesn’t have to apologize. It must, because Erin murmurs a quiet thank you. 

They don’t say much after that. Holtz doesn’t move back to her side of the booth, and Erin doesn’t ask her to.

 

Chapter 5

Their meal is delicious. Once they’re done, Erin drives them around town, pointing out random landmarks of her childhood and telling stories, which Holtz listens to with rapt attention. 

They retire to their hotel room for the rest of the afternoon and evening after that, entertaining themselves with a terrible movie on TV, a room service smorgasbord, and more stories. Holtz would bet that this is the longest the two of them have ever been alone together—their longer stakeouts happen in shifts with their other teammates subbing in, and even their longest work days have been broken up. 

Spending so much uninterrupted time together probably isn’t helping anything, but Holtz is enjoying it all the same, as they swap tales of everything from their childhoods to their college years.

Before they know it, the evening has slipped away from them. Erin finally realizes this with a soft swear as she checks her phone for the first time in hours. “Is that the time?”

Holtz checks her watch and is equally surprised to see it’s well past midnight. 

“I don’t know how we haven’t crashed already,” Erin says, setting down her long-empty wine glass. “I’ve been up for…so long. At least you napped this morning.”

Holtz is used to running on a few hours of sleep, but she did feel the effects of their late-night bust hit her a few hours prior and has just been ignoring it. She stretches her arms over her head with a yawn. “Didn’t you sleep on the plane?”

Erin shakes her head. “I’m not really a napper.”

Holtz stands and turns off the TV, then starts gathering their room service dishes while Erin claims the bathroom to get ready for bed. After she takes the dishes out to the hall, Holtz gets changed into her pajamas and sits on the edge of her bed to wait. She opens the weirdest game she has installed on her phone and messes around with that until Erin emerges. 

“You know I could see you changing, right?” Erin asks. 

“Likewise,” Holtz replies without looking up from her phone. 

“Seriously? Because I didn’t look at you.”

Holtz looks up with an amused smile. “Neither did I.”

“Then how do you know you could see me?”

“Because if you could see me, then I could see you. That’s how glass works.”

The corner of Erin’s mouth twitches. “I kind of hate this hotel room.”

“It’s not all bad,” Holtz replies with a wink, then stands to go take her turn in the bathroom without another word. 

 

As iffy as the privacy of the room is, the beds are delightful. Holtz sleeps like a log, only rousing when Erin shakes her shoulder and lets her know that breakfast is nearly over. Holtz waves her off and goes back to sleep. 

The next time she wakes, it’s to the smell of coffee. She cracks one eye to see a paper cup of coffee and a pastry on a napkin on the nightstand beside her. 

Holtz tsks over the pastry. “Not my favourite.”

“Well, if you hadn’t slept through breakfast hours, you could’ve had a much larger selection.”

Holtz props herself up on one elbow and grins at her. “Thank you for getting me breakfast.”

“You can’t go back to sleep,” Erin warns. “The funeral is at 11:30, so we’ll have to get ready soon.”

Holtz notes that Erin appears to have already showered and done her hair and makeup while Holtz was still asleep. She shoves her pastry in her mouth, crumbs showering the bed below. “In that case,” she says with her mouth full, “I’d better get moving.”

She has a quick shower, then emerges from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her.

“Holtz!” Erin gasps upon seeing her. 

“What?” She looks down at herself, wondering if she’s had an accidental nip slip. “I forgot to take my clothes in with me.”

Erin points, her brows knitted together with concern. “You’re all bruised.”

Holtz glances down again with fresh eyes, this time seeing the purple and black blossoming across her skin. “That dang pipe organ,” she says. “Why aren’t you?”

“I take longer to bruise,” Erin says with a sigh. “Are you wearing long sleeves and pants today?”

“Sure am. What, you don’t want me showing off my battle scars?”

“Just invites another unwanted conversation,” Erin says. 

“Fair ’nough.” Holtz grabs her clothes that she packed for the funeral and ducks back into the bathroom. She does her hair and makeup wearing just her bra and underwear, not particularly caring if Erin can see her, and then gets dressed in her black slacks and white button-down and exits the bathroom. Erin has changed in the meantime, wearing a simple sleeveless black dress with a high neckline, with black pantyhose and modest black heels rounding out the look. Holtz bites her tongue, figuring even if it wasn’t inappropriate for her to comment on how hot her best-friend-turned-fake-wife is, it’s definitely inappropriate when she’s dressed for a funeral. 

She grabs her suit jacket from where it’s laying across her bed, then scans the room and pales.

“I forgot shoes,” she says, wide-eyed.

Erin winces. “What do you have?”

“Just the boots—I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry, Erin. Maybe we could—is there somewhere—”

Erin waves off her stammering. “Just wear the boots. What’s one more thing to give my mother a coronary?”

Nevertheless, Holtz continues to apologize as she shoves her feet into her battered combat boots. While she enjoys being a shit-disturber, she recognizes that a funeral with Erin’s estranged and hostile family is not the time nor place.

“Ready?” she asks when she’s all laced up.

Erin shoulders her purse with a heavy sigh. “Not at all.” She extends an elbow to Holtz to take. “Let’s go.”

 

They wait in the car in the parking lot until the last possible minute before the service, which Holtz assumes is so they can sneak in unnoticed. This theory proves correct; at 11:28 they slip in through the door and take seats in the back row.

Holtz hasn’t been to many funerals, and not any that she’s been old enough to remember, but her impression of this one is that it seems highly traditional, formal, religious, and oddly impersonal. After all the stories Holtz has heard in the last few days about Erin’s father, she almost feels like she knows him better than the minister who’s speaking. His words are generic enough that she gets the impression that this same speech could be used for any other service by swapping out the name.

In her peripherals, she can see that Erin’s lips are pursed and she keeps making little noises of disapproval every once in a while. 

When it ends, Erin leans in close. “My mother was right; I shouldn’t have bothered coming.”

The sarcasm is heavy in her tone, and Holtz lets out a little snort. 

Erin stands swiftly and Holtz follows suit. They make a break for the door, but they don’t make it that far.

“Erin!” a male voice exclaims. 

Holtz catches the flash of resignation on Erin’s face before she turns. “Uncle George,” she says, her voice a little too high to be sincere. 

A greying man steps around a couple other mourners to reach them. “I didn’t know you were coming.” He pulls Erin into a hug that she doesn’t seem to want, then steps back without releasing her shoulders. “How are you holding up, kiddo?”

“Well, you know,” Erin says vaguely, with a subtle shrug of her shoulders that also manages to release her from her uncle’s grasp in the process. It’s masterful.

“It’s been tough around here too,” he continues on. “He was asking about you until the very end.”

A shadow of real pain crosses Erin’s face, only for a moment. “I’ll miss him,” she says simply. 

Someone calls his name from the other side of the room and he glances that way. “I’d better go, but I’ll see you this afternoon.”

Erin nods. “See you later.”

He steps away, and Holtz turns to her. 

“We’ll see him this afternoon?”

“No, I don’t even know what he’s talking about,” Erin says. “Come on, let’s get out of here before anyone else—”

“Erin.”

They both freeze at the same moment, then turn to face Paula, standing there with her arms crossed. 

“I’m not here to cause a scene,” Erin says tiredly. “We were just leaving.”

“People have started asking about you,” Paula says, ignoring Erin entirely. 

Erin doesn’t say anything.

Paula presses her lips firmly together and looks both ways as if to check if anyone is listening in. 

“You will come to the reception this afternoon at the house. 2:00pm. You are not to discuss any of this.” She looks sharply at Holtz as she says this. “ Anything . Do you understand me?”

“Yes ma’am,” Erin says tightly. 

Paula turns and walks away without saying another word. With that, Erin grabs Holtz’s arm and steers her out of the building at last. 

When they’re safely in the car, Holtz breaks the silence.

“So…reception at 2:00?”

“If there’s one thing my mother hates more than me,” Erin says with a sigh, “it’s something threatening our perfect image.”

 

They have enough time to grab lunch at one of Erin’s other favourite local restaurants, and then they make their way back to the house. There are more cars lining the street than there were yesterday.

“You okay?” Holtz asks, eying Erin as they walk up the driveway. 

“Not really,” she admits. “I don’t want to be here, but I’d rather be here than have everyone talking about why I’m not here. Guess I’m my mother’s daughter in that way.”

Paula answers the door again, and while she maintains a poker face (no doubt due to the presence of other family members), there’s still anger in her eyes. 

“I didn’t think it needed to be said that you were to come alone,” she says in a low voice, eyes on Erin, ignoring Holtz.

Erin just sighs. “She goes where I go. I’ll introduce her as my colleague. Happy?”

“That will cause unwanted questions,” Paula snaps.

There’s a long pause, and Holtz knows Erin well enough to know that she’s biting her tongue. 

“My friend, then,” Erin says in a flat voice. “Can we come in now?”

Paula huffs but steps aside to let them in. “Everything is set up in the backyard.”

Erin pushes past her and Holtz follows close behind. She glances around the house as they cut through it. They pass a formal living room with a fireplace, a large professional family portrait hanging above the mantle. It’s old—Erin looks maybe 18 or 19 in it. Not one of them has a genuine smile. 

At the back of the house there’s a more informal living area with a sliding door that leads to the backyard. There are people standing around with plastic cups and paper plates, a folding table set up with finger food, and scattered lawn chairs. 

“Looks like the world’s saddest birthday party,” Holtz says without thinking, then immediately flinches. “That was really insensitive.”

Erin snorts anyway. “It really does though.”

They’re greeted warmly when they step into the backyard, so at least there are some people in Erin’s family that like her. Holtz hangs back while various people approach Erin and offer their condolences, say things like how are you holding up? and it’s been so long!

They make their rounds around the yard. When someone asks who she is, Erin introduces her with a dismissive “my friend Holtzmann” and changes the subject. Holtz keeps her mouth shut, not wanting to get Erin in trouble for anything that could come out of it. She taps rhythms on her thigh with her fingertips and eavesdrops on conversations around them. She hovers by Erin’s elbow. She people-watches. Paula crosses by them several times, not-so-subtly listening in to make sure Erin isn’t misbehaving. 

When they’ve talked to everyone, Erin pulls them back into a quiet corner of the yard for a breather. Holtz wordlessly raises an eyebrow at her.

“I’m okay,” Erin replies to the unspoken check-in. “We don’t have to stay much longer—I think my mother will agree that I’ve fulfilled my obligations.”

“You’re better at faking small-talk than I am,” Holtz says. 

“I do like some of my relatives,” Erin says, surveying the yard. “Doesn’t change that I don’t want to be here, but still.”

Holtz hums.

A few newcomers arrive through the sliding door and Erin perks up. “Speaking of which…”

Holtz catches sight of the person who is crossing the yard towards them, and she lets out a little gasp of excitement. “ Puppy!”

“Holtz,” Erin warns.

“I know I know I know,” Holtz babbles, bouncing on her heels. “I’m not going to distract him, he’s such a good boy , with a very important job, and I’m not looking at him! I’m not! But he’s so good!”

“I think she’s a girl, actually,” Erin murmurs. 

The person reaches them, service dog by their side, a wide smile on their face. They’re short and heavyset, with buzzed brown hair and a tattoo sleeve down one arm. Much younger than Erin—probably in their 20s. The dog is very large and very fluffy and a perfect specimen. Holtz is practically vibrating. 

“Erin!” 

“Autumn!” Erin steps forward to hug them. “Holtz, this is Autumn. They’re my favourite cousin.”

“I had no idea you were going to be here,” Autumn says. “I was working until 1:00—couldn’t make it to the funeral. How was it?”

“You didn’t miss much,” Erin assures them. 

Autumn turns to Holtz finally. “And I know you—you work with Erin!”

Holtz glances at Erin, checking if it’s okay to confirm this. 

Erin laughs. “Yeah, they’re safe.”

With that permission, Holtz extends a hand to shake Autumn’s. “Holtz. You have placed me correctly. Also I love your dog very much. That’s all.”

She is still very pointedly not looking at the dog. Autumn clocks it and laughs. “Don’t worry, you’re not going to distract her by looking at her. You can say hi—just don’t pet her. Her name is Lexus—she came from a litter named after cars.”

Holtz immediately drops her gaze and offers a delighted but restrained “Hello” to Lexus, then directs her attention back to Autumn.

“So how have you been?” they ask Erin. “Busy, from what I’ve seen on social media.”

“You follow us?” Holtz asks.

“Of course!” Autumn replies. 

“Busy is right,” Erin says. “Other than work, I’ve been pretty good. Up until the last few days, I guess.” 

Autumn makes a face. “I’m really sorry, Erin. I’m so sad—he was my favourite uncle. I can’t imagine how you’re feeling.”

Erin shrugs one shoulder. “Add in family drama and it hasn’t been super fun.”

“Family drama? Now what?”

“Oh, same old, same old,” Erin says. “I wasn’t exactly wanted here today.”

Autumn grimaces. “I feel you. I don’t think Aunt Paula knew I was coming today, or wanted me to.”

Erin’s brow knits together. “Don’t be silly. She likes you.”

“You’ve been gone a while,” Autumn jokes. “I’m becoming more and more of the family’s black sheep by the day. There’s no room in the family for a disabled, very vocal political activist who keeps challenging everyone when they say shitty things. Not to mention being the queer cousin.”

“One of them,” Erin says quietly.

Both Autumn and Holtz look at her with equally surprised expressions. They’ve never really talked about it—about Erin’s dating preferences or romantic interest. Sure, she married Holtz, but that doesn’t mean anything. She’s only ever dated men in the years since they’ve known each other. 

August turns from surprised to excited. “Seriously, Erin?”

Erin nods and fidgets with her ring, and that’s when Holtz realizes that they’re still wearing them and they really shouldn’t be, not if they’re trying to abide by Paula’s wishes. She wonders if Erin thought about it and decided to keep them on to spite her, or if she just forgot. Holtz admits that she’s gotten used to the feeling of it on her finger—it hadn’t even occurred to her. 

Autumn doesn’t clock the ring, but does look back and forth between them. “Wait, are…are you…”

Erin meets Holtz’s eyes for a moment, searching. Debating. Holtz doesn’t know how to communicate that she’ll support whatever Erin chooses to say, so she just blinks. 

Erin licks her lip and looks around them, then back at Autumn. “Yeah,” she says, her voice low. “We’re…”

There’s another heavy pause.

“Married, actually,” Erin finishes. 

Autumn’s mouth falls open. “Seriously?”

“Nobody here knows. We’ve been…forbidden from sharing it,” Erin replies bitterly.

Autumn’s face clouds. “Aunt Paula?”

Erin nods. 

“God, that makes me mad,” Autumn says. “Well, I’m so happy for you two, even though you didn’t invite your favourite cousin to the wedding, and your secret is safe with me.”

“If it helps, it happened very recently and there wasn’t a wedding, only a courthouse ceremony,” Erin says. “If there’d been a wedding, you would’ve been the first person I’d invite—and maybe the only one from this family.”

Autumn grins. “Well, I gotta say, I did wonder about the two of you but talked myself out of it because I thought you were straight—but there were definitely a few posts on your Insta that made me—” They’re interrupted by Lexus raising a paw to nudge their thigh. They look down at her. “Ah, I gotta go sit down.” They unzip a pouch on their hip and give Lexus a treat. “Find me later before you leave though, yeah?”

“Of course,” Erin replies with a sincere smile.

Autumn walks away with Lexus at their side. Before Holtz can turn to Erin and ask any of the burning questions on her mind, Erin speaks first.

“I have to pee. Will you be okay out here alone for a minute?”

Holtz glances around. “One Holtzmann against a backyard full of Gilberts? Bring it on.”

“Maybe don’t talk to anyone,” Erin says with an uneasy laugh. 

Holtz salutes her.

After she’s alone, she stands there for a moment with her hands shoved in her pockets, just observing. Autumn’s unfinished sentence rings in her ears.

I did wonder about the two of you .

She swallows thickly. Franklin’s smug face pops into her head unsolicited. 

Grumbling, she decides to make a pass at the snack table on the other side of the yard to escape her own thoughts. She crosses swiftly, managing to avoid any confrontations, and arrives at the long table set up against the fence. A quick glance tells her this ain’t like any backyard memorial soiree she’s ever been at before—between the linen tablecloth, the bottles of fancy flavoured sparkling water from a brand she’s never heard of, and the trays of clearly-catered hors d'oeuvres. 

She pops a crab puff or two in her mouth and surveys the selection of waters available, finally selecting blackberry. She’s unscrewing the cap off the bottle when suddenly there’s a body beside her.

“I don’t know who you are.”

Holtz blinks, her mouth still full of crab puff (okay, maybe she ate four at once, sue her) and slowly turns her head to see Paula Gilbert standing next to her, pretending to browse the food selection. 

“But you need to stay away from my daughter,” Paula continues. 

It takes Holtz a second to catch up to the full sentence. She chews slowly and swallows the crab puffs.

Paula doesn’t stop there. The words come fast, low, and she’s still acting as if she isn’t speaking to Holtz directly. As if this speech is for the lobster canapes and the smoked salmon crostini and the bacon-wrapped shrimp and the—hold on, is there anything but seafood being served at this event? Do the Gilberts have some fascination with seafood? Are they a family of pescatarians? Is it—

“I’ll get our lawyers involved if I have to. I don’t know what you want—money, I assume—but my daughter would never do something like this. Not really. She’s just doing this to hurt me.”

Holtz lifts the bottle of blackberry sparkling water to her lips and chugs. 

“Now I want you off my property. Go back to wherever you came from and leave her alone.”

Holtz continues to chug the water. 

“Am I understood?” Paula asks sharply. 

Holtz polishes off the bottle with a smack of her lips and a small burp. “Understood,” she says, and then she shoves the empty bottle at Paula’s chest as she walks past her.

 

The inside of the house is quiet. There’s a bathroom off the hallway, but it’s empty. Holtz glances around, and then swiftly climbs the grand staircase. 

Upstairs is a maze of open doors, each with a spotless magazine-catalogue room behind them. Then, at the end, there’s a door that’s just barely ajar, and a faint noise coming from behind it. 

If years of ghostbusting has taught her anything, it’s to approach doors cautiously, so she pauses outside and listens for a moment before gently pressing on the door so it swings slightly more open.

The room looks just as staged as the rest, all neutral colours and an obscene amount of decorative pillows, but the main difference is the Erin kneeling in the centre of the plush carpet, hunched over with her forehead practically touching her knees. She could be praying, if not for the steady shake to her shoulders.

Holtz enters without a word and crouches next to her, touching her fingers lightly to the middle of Erin’s back. Erin starts a bit, but doesn’t move. Now that Holtz is close, she can see the silent tears on her cheeks. She’s saying something too, almost too faint to hear. It takes a few loops for Holtz to make out the phrase that she’s repeating. She’s not here .

Holtz breaks the silence. “Erin?” 

The mumbling stops, but Erin doesn’t lift her head. 

Holtz taps three times on Erin’s back. “Kevin’s at the dentist, right?” 

Erin finally lifts her head. She reaches for Holtz’s knee, which is closest to her, and taps three times. “No.”

Holtz smiles weakly at her. “You know I had to check.”

“No possession, just a panic attack,” Erin gasps out.

They’ve had enough ghost possessions on the team to have developed a series of codes and checks to determine if someone’s being possessed. It’s been a mostly-foolproof system (ghosts, while usually having access to recent memories and thoughts, are also pretty stupid and will agree with leading questions if they think it sounds right) with the exception of the time that Kevin was at the dentist and they all forgot except Patty, who they ended up tackling to the ground when she said he was.

Holtz lets her hand rest on the small of Erin’s back. She can feel her still trembling. “Do you want to get out of here?”

Erin squeezes her eyes shut and lets out a choked whimper, a shudder going through her. 

Still crouching, Holtz shuffles around Erin’s side until she’s in front of her. She slips her hand from her back and takes both of Erin’s hands in hers instead.

She starts by humming, then starts quietly singing the first song to jump into her head.

“Turn around ,” she intones, giving her best to Bonnie Tyler. 

Erin doesn’t really react, still seemingly lost in her panic attack. She opens her eyes, but her gaze is unfocussed, eyes glassy.

“Every now and then, I get a little bit lonely and you're never coming 'round, ” Holtz continues. “Turn around, every now and then, I get a little bit tired of listening to the sound of my tears. ” 

She pauses, widening her eyes encouragingly at Erin.

“Turn around ,” Erin gets out in barely more than a whisper.

Holtz bobs her head. “Every now and then, I get a little bit nervous that the best of all the years have gone by .”

Erin’s voice is a little steadier. “Turn around .”

“Every now and then, I get a little bit terrified and then I see the look in your eyes .” 

Erin swallows a big gulp of air. “Turn around, bright eyes .”

Holtz squeezes her hands. “Every now and then, I fall apart… ”

Erin’s gaze is becoming more focussed on Holtz’s face. “Turn around, bright eyes. ”

“Every now and then, I fall apart… ” Holtz pauses, giving Erin an encouraging smile. 

Erin takes a beat, and her voice shakes, but she’s got more volume. “And I need you now tonight… ”

“And I need you more than ever… ”

Erin inhales again. “And if you only hold me tight… ”

Holtz squeezes Erin’s hands again. “We'll be holding on forever… ”

“And we'll only be making it right… ”

“'Cause we'll never be wrong… ” Holtz nods at Erin to join her. 

“Together, we can take it to the end of the line ,” they sing together, Erin’s voice almost sounding normal.

Erin continues, “Your love is like a shadow on me all of the time… ”

“All of the time ,” Holtz echoes.

Erin holds her head higher. “I don't know what to do and I'm always in the dark… ”

“We're living in a powder keg and giving off sparks ,” Holtz chimes in.

There’s a long pause. 

“Thank you, Holtz,” Erin whispers.

Holtz quirks the corner of her mouth. “You’re going to deprive me of the rest of the chorus? And post-chorus? And the rest of the song?”

Erin laughs faintly. “I need to get out of here. Now.”

“Fair enough.” Holtz stands up out of her crouch, still holding Erin’s hands. “I’ve got you.”

Erin lets her pull her unsteadily to her feet. Holtz releases Erin’s hands and find her waist instead. There are only a few inches between them. Erin’s teary gaze searches Holtz’s face for a moment, then she moves in closer and buries her face in Holtz’s hair. 

Instinctively, Holtz embraces her tightly, holding her as close as she can. Warm. Steady. 

She won’t be the first one to let go.