@reidisles - Tumblr Blog

Jul 20

Scared To Lose - Dr. Robby x Female Reader

Request - Love everything of yours I read! After seeing reader interact with her mother in one of your recent fics was thinking about one where she is a bit anxious to introduce Robby to her family, she's conscious of the age gap and the workaholic tendencies ect only for them to absolutely love him...and is she a little bit jealous of how easy he charms them all?

making me work to not have a story in the hospital, i see lol 🫶

Masterlist

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The snow had started just outside Pittsburgh, soft flakes dusting the windshield in lazy spirals that the wipers pushed away every few seconds. It wasn’t enough to make the roads dangerous, but it was enough to turn the rolling hills north of the city into a watercolor of white fields and dark tree lines. The radio hummed quietly with an old classic rock station neither of you had bothered changing. Between the music and the rhythmic swish of the wipers, the truck was comfortably quiet. Well…comfortably quiet for one of you.

“You know,” you said, breaking the silence for what felt like the fifteenth time in the last twenty minutes, “my grandma asks incredibly invasive questions.”

Robby kept one hand on the steering wheel while the other rested loosely over the center console, fingers brushing your thigh without really thinking about it. His eyes stayed on the road, though the corner of his mouth twitched.

“So you’ve mentioned.”

“I’m serious.”

“I know.”

“No, I don’t think you do.”

“I think I do.”

You sighed dramatically and leaned your head against the cold window. “She asked my cousin’s boyfriend how much money he made before she’d even offered him coffee.”

“Hm.”

“‘Hm?’ That’s your response?”

He shrugged one shoulder.

“I’ve been an attending physician for twenty years.”

“I know.”

“I’ve testified in court.”

“I know.”

“I’ve told parents their kid wasn’t going to survive.”

Your stomach twisted.

“I can survive one seventy-eight-year-old woman.”

You groaned loud enough that he actually chuckled.

“What?”

“Nice laugh.” Robby was smug.

“I didn’t laugh.”

“You absolutely did.”

“I exhaled.”

“You smiled.”

“I don’t smile.” You turned toward him with narrowed eyes.

“You smile.”

“I tolerate things.”

“You tolerate me?” He glanced over just long enough to meet your eyes before looking back at the road.

“I tolerate you considerably more than everyone else.” You laughed despite yourself.

“That’s…probably the closest thing to a compliment you’ve ever given me.”

“It’s top five.”

“You have a ranking?”

“I absolutely have a ranking.”

“Oh my God.”

The truck fell quiet again, though this silence didn’t last nearly as long.

“What if they think you’re too old?”

This time he looked over immediately.

“…What?”

You immediately regretted saying it aloud.

“I’m just saying—”

“Stop.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“I do.”

He sighed, rubbing one hand over the stubble on his jaw while stopped briefly at a red light in a tiny town you’d already forgotten the name of.

“Kid.”

“I’m thirty-six.”

“I know.”

“You’re forty-nine.”

“I continue to know.”

“That’s thirteen years.”

“I can still do math.”

“I just…” Your voice faltered. “I don’t know.”

He watched you for a second before the light turned green again. The truck rolled forward.

“You’ve been doing this for an hour.”

“Doing what?”

“Working yourself into a panic.”

“I’m not panicking.”

“You reorganized my glove compartment.”

“I was helping.”

“You folded the registration.”

“It looked messy.”

“You apologized to the cashier at the gas station because she said the coffee machine was broken.”

“I felt bad.”

“You’ve asked if your hair looks okay three times. And now you’re worried your grandmother is going to reject me because I had the audacity to be born in the seventies.”

You folded your arms across your chest.

“When you say it like that, it sounds ridiculous.”

“It is ridiculous.”

“You don’t know my family.”

“No.” His voice softened. “I know you.”

You looked over. His attention remained on the road.

“And I know you’ve been carrying this around for weeks.”

You swallowed.

“I just…” You picked nervously at the sleeve of your sweater. “My dad never got to meet…anyone.”

His expression shifted immediately. The teasing disappeared. He reached over, finding your hand without taking his eyes off the road. His fingers threaded between yours instinctively.

“I know.”

“I keep thinking about him.” Your voice had gone quieter now. “He would’ve loved giving every guy I dated a hard time.”

“You’ve told me.”

“He would’ve grilled you.”

“I would’ve survived.”

“He would’ve asked you what your intentions were.”

“I would’ve told him.”

“And what would’ve you said?”

He didn’t answer right away. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable. It was thoughtful. Finally, he spoke.

“That I make your coffee every morning because you’re incapable of remembering breakfast.” You smiled faintly at him. “That you fall asleep on my couch every time we try to watch a movie after shift.”

Another smile.

“That you steal my shirts.”

“They’re comfortable.”

“They’re mine.”

“They become mine.”

“I don't know if that's how clothes work.”

He squeezed your hand once before continuing.

“I would’ve told him…” His voice became almost impossibly gentle. “…that I take care of you.”

Your eyes stung. Not because the words were grand. Because they weren’t. He hadn’t said he’d protect you from the world. He hadn’t promised forever. He hadn’t made some sweeping declaration. He’d simply stated a fact. He took care of you. You looked out the window before he could see your eyes watering.

“I miss him.”

“I know.”

“I wish he could’ve met you.”

“So do I.”

That answer caught you off guard. You turned back toward him.

“You do?”

He nodded once.

“I would’ve liked to thank him.”

“For what?”

He looked genuinely confused by the question.

“For you.”

The words settled heavily inside the truck. You stared at him. He didn’t seem to realize what he’d just said. Or maybe he did. With Robby, it was always impossible to tell.

“You make it sound like I was a gift.”

His eyebrow lifted.

“Weren’t you?”

Your breath caught. He immediately looked annoyed with himself, almost like the sentence had escaped before he’d approved it.

“You know what I mean.”

“I…don’t actually.”

He sighed, giving the steering wheel a tiny shake.

“I mean…” He searched for the words. “…you’re a good person.”

Your smile grew.

“You help women give birth to babies.”

“I do.”

“You make impossible decisions every day.”

“I also yell at residents.”

“They deserve it.”

“They usually do.”

“You call your mom every Sunday.”

“I try.”

“You still send your grandparents birthday cards.”

“They’re eighty-six and ninety-one, Robby.”

“So?”

“So everyone sends birthday cards.”

“No.” He shook his head. “They don’t.”

You blinked.

“They don’t?”

He glanced over again. Your chest tightened. There he was. That man. The one almost nobody got to see because he buried himself beneath exhaustion, sarcasm, and impossible workdays. You reached over and rested your hand against the side of his neck. His shoulders visibly relaxed beneath the touch.

“You know…” you said quietly.

“What?”

“I think they’re going to love you.”

He snorted.

“I’m not worried about them.”

“I am.”

“I know.”

“You should be at least a little worried.”

“I’m not.”

“Why?”

He smiled, a real one this time, tired and warm and just for you.

“Because if they’re anything like you…” His thumb rubbed across the back of your hand. “…I’m already looking forward to meeting them.”

Before you could answer, the GPS chimed softly.

“In two miles, turn left.”

Your stomach immediately flipped. You recognized the road. Home. You took one slow breath before looking out at the familiar church steeple in the distance, your childhood grocery store, and the snow-covered streets you’d ridden your bike down a lifetime ago. Beside you, Robby gave your hand one reassuring squeeze.

“You ready?”

You looked at the house just coming into view at the end of the street, every light glowing warmly against the winter afternoon.

“…Ask me again in ten minutes.”

A quiet chuckle filled the cab.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “That’s about what I expected.”

******

The moment Robby turned into your mother’s driveway, you knew two things. First, someone had absolutely ignored your repeated instructions to stay inside until we knock. Second, you were about to lose complete control of the situation. The front door flew open before the truck had even rolled to a stop.

“Oh, for the love of—”

You watched your mother hurry down the porch steps, your Aunt Maggie only a few feet behind her, bundled in a bright red winter coat that could probably be seen from space. Behind them came your grandparents at a far more sensible pace, your grandfather insisting he didn’t need anyone’s arm despite the icy walkway, while your grandmother ignored him and linked hers through his anyway.

Then, as if that wasn’t enough, the front door opened again. Two teenage boys burst out of the house like missiles.

“She’s here!”

“I called shotgun to hug her first!”

“No you didn’t!”

“I literally did!”

“You literally didn’t!”

The cousins. Wonderful.

“Oh my God…” you muttered, covering your face with one hand. “I told them not to do this.”

Beside you, Robby shut off the engine.

“I thought you said they were excited.”

“This is excited.”

He looked through the windshield as your family continued making their way toward the truck.

“…Looks more like an invasion.”

You laughed despite your nerves.

“It gets worse.”

“It does?”

“My grandma kisses everybody.”

“I’m okay with that.”

“My aunt asks inappropriate questions.”

“I’ve met those women at the hospital before.”

“My cousins have no filter.”

“I supervise residents.”

“My mother cries.”

He finally looked over at you.

“And you?”

“What about me?”

“You look like you’re about to bolt.”

“I might.”

He smiled softly.

“I’ll tackle you.”

“You absolutely will not.”

“I’ve still got decent knees.”

“Barely.”

“Barely is still enough.”

Before you could answer, there was a knock on your window. Your cousin Tyler had his face practically pressed against the glass.

“Hey!”

You sighed.

“Here we go.”

You opened the truck door and barely had time to stand before Tyler collided with you in a hug.

“There she is!”

“Oof—Tyler!”

“You never come home!”

“I literally came home for Thanksgiving.”

“That doesn’t count.”

“Why?”

“You worked half of it.”

“…Fair.”

A second later, his younger brother, Ben, wrapped both arms around you too, nearly knocking all three of you sideways.

“We missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

“You look tired.”

You pointed toward Robby without missing a beat.

“I learned from him.”

“I heard that.”

You looked over your shoulder to find Robby climbing out of the driver’s seat, tugging his wool coat closed against the cold. He looked exactly like himself. Dark jeans. Heavy boots. A charcoal sweater beneath his coat. Messy dark hair from the drive. His beard a little longer for the winter.

No attempt whatsoever to impress anyone. Which somehow made him more handsome. He shut the truck door and looked around as six pairs of eyes immediately landed on him.

There it was. The moment. Your stomach lurched.

“Mom…” you began. “This is—”

“Oh, honey.”

Your mother walked right past you. You blinked.

“…Mom?”

She stopped in front of Robby with the warmest smile you’d ever seen.

“You must be Robby.”

He nodded once.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Oh, absolutely not.” She immediately reached forward and hugged him. “None of that.”

You stared. Robby froze for approximately three seconds before awkwardly returning the hug with the hesitant uncertainty of a man who probably hadn’t been hugged by someone else’s mother in decades.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

“You too.”

“You drove all the way up here today?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She pointed a finger at him.

“I said no ‘ma’am.’ Makes me feel ancient.”

A tiny smile appeared.

“…Sorry.”

“Much better.”

Your aunt Maggie stepped forward next.

“So you’re the emergency room doctor.”

“Unfortunately.”

She laughed immediately.

“Oh, I like him.”

“Aunt Maggie.”

“What?”

“You’ve known him for eleven seconds.”

“Twelve now.”

She stuck her hand out.

“Maggie.”

He shook it.

“Robby.”

“So…do you really see people with things stuck where they shouldn’t be?”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. Robby looked at your aunt for a long second. Then, completely deadpan, “More often than I’d like.”

“What was the weirdest?”

“Maggie!”

“What?”

“No.”

Robby’s expression never changed.

“A bowling trophy.”

There was a beat of silence.

“…Seriously?” Maggie asked.

“No.”

She burst into laughter so loud your grandfather shook his head.

“I walked right into that.”

“Yep.”

You looked at Robby.

“You lied to my aunt.”

“I protected your innocence.”

“My innocence?”

“You seemed invested.”

“I absolutely was.”

Your grandmother finally reached the two of you. She was small now, age having stolen several inches from the woman you remembered towering over everyone as a child, but she still possessed the same sharp blue eyes that missed absolutely nothing. She looked at Robby for several long moments. Long enough that your heart started pounding. Then she reached up and patted his cheek.

“My.”

Robby blinked.

“…Hello.”

“Well.” She smiled. “He’s handsome.”

“Oh my God.”

“Shush.” She eyed you.

“What?”

“I have eyes.”

You wanted the icy driveway to open beneath your feet. Your grandmother ignored you entirely. She looked back at Robby.

“You’ve got kind eyes.”

His ears turned pink.

“…Thank you.”

“And you look tired.”

You snorted. Grandma pointed triumphantly.

“See? I was right.”

“You are,” you admitted. “He always looks tired.”

“I’m standing right here.”

“I know.”

Your grandfather finally extended his hand.

“Frank.”

“Robby.”

They shook firmly.

“My granddaughter says you’re in emergency medicine.”

“I am.”

“She’s an OBGYN.”

“I know.”

Grandpa nodded once.

“Means you both have terrible schedules.”

Robby let out a quiet breath that almost sounded relieved.

“We do.”

“You actually understand each other then.”

“Most days.”

Grandpa smiled.

“Good.”

That was it. No interrogation. No skepticism. Just…good. The conversation was interrupted by Tyler stepping directly in front of Robby.

“So.”

Robby looked down.

“So.”

“How tall are you?”

You closed your eyes.

“Tyler…”

“What? It’s a valid question.”

Robby answered anyway.

“Six-three.”

“I knew it!”

Ben looked impressed.

“You play football?”

“No.”

“Basketball?”

“In the park as a kid.”

“What’d you do?”

“I studied.”

Both boys looked horrified.

“Voluntarily?”

A smile tugged at Robby’s mouth.

“…Eventually.”

You couldn’t help laughing.

“So you’re basically a giant nerd.”

“I’ve never been called that before.”

“I can think of worse.”

Ben squinted suspiciously.

“You seem…less scary than she said.”

Your head whipped around.

“I never said he was scary!”

Tyler looked confused.

“You said he was grumpy.”

“I said he could be grumpy.”

“You also said he growls.”

“He does growl.”

“I do not.”

“You absolutely do.”

“When?”

“When people interrupt your coffee.”

“Reasonable.”

“When residents ask stupid questions.”

“Also reasonable.”

“When someone steals your favorite pen.”

He looked genuinely offended.

“That happened once.”

“It happened yesterday.”

“They knew it was my pen.”

Your entire family laughed. Not because he was trying to be funny. Because he wasn’t. He was simply…Robby. Standing there in your mother’s snowy driveway, looking mildly inconvenienced by the cold and completely unaware that he’d already charmed nearly every member of your family without trying.

You caught your mother watching the two of you from a few feet away. She smiled knowingly when your eyes met. Then she clapped her hands together.

“All right, enough freezing. Lunch is getting cold.”

Your grandmother immediately slipped her arm through Robby’s.

“Come inside, dear.”

He looked down at the elderly woman attached to him, then over at you with an expression that clearly said, Am I allowed to move? You bit back a grin.

“You’re family now.”

His eyebrows lifted.

“Already?”

Grandma answered for you.

“If she brought you here…” She squeezed his arm gently. “…you’ve already passed the hard part.”

You watched the words land. Just for a moment. His tired eyes found yours across the snowy yard. And without saying a word, he gave you the smallest smile.

It was barely there. But it was enough to make your anxious heart settle, if only for a little while.

******

Lunch had somehow turned into three hours. You weren’t entirely sure how. One minute everyone had been squeezing around your mother’s dining room table, passing bowls of mashed potatoes and homemade rolls while your grandmother insisted everyone take seconds before they’d even finished firsts.

The next, dishes had been cleared away, coffee had appeared as if by magic, dessert had been cut, and nobody seemed interested in leaving the table. Least of all your family. And, much to your surprise…Least of all Robby. He looked comfortable.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen him like that outside the apartment. No pager clipped to his waistband. No trauma bay waiting downstairs. No resident hovering nearby. No administration emails. Just…Robby.

Relaxed. Well, as relaxed as a forty-nine-year-old emergency physician who’d worked three twelve-hour shifts this week was capable of being.

“So,” Grandpa Frank said, setting down his coffee mug. “My granddaughter tells me you fish.”

You looked up.

“I told you that?”

“You mention things.”

“I don’t remember mentioning fishing.”

“You did.”

“When?”

“Three months ago.”

“…You remember conversations from three months ago?”

“I remember everything.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Show-off.”

Grandpa grinned.

“What do you fish for?”

“Mostly trout.”

“You fly fish?”

“When I have time.”

Grandpa nodded approvingly.

“Haven’t done that in years.”

“I’ve got two rods in the garage,” Robby replied. “One doesn’t get used much.”

“You don’t have anybody to go with?”

Robby shrugged.

“Schedules.”

“You two never go?”

He looked over at you.

“She hates getting up before sunrise.”

“I do not hate it.”

“You complain.”

“I complain because it’s four in the morning.”

“It’s five.”

“It feels like four.”

He smirked into his coffee. Your grandfather chuckled.

“She’s been like that since she was twelve.”

“I have always valued sleep.”

“No,” your mom called from the kitchen. “You’ve always valued complaining about sleep.”

You pointed toward the kitchen.

“Betrayal.”

“You’ll survive.”

“I don’t know if I will.”

Robby leaned closer just enough for only you to hear.

“You’ve survived residency.”

“Barely.”

“You’ll make it.”

The quiet confidence in his voice made your lips twitch despite yourself. Then Grandma looked up from her pie.

“So.”

Oh no.

“So?”

She pointed her fork toward Robby.

“She says you’re chief.”

You immediately corrected her.

“Chief attending.”

“That’s what I said.”

“It isn’t.”

“It’s close enough.”

Robby took another sip of coffee.

“It’s fine.”

Grandma ignored both of you.

“Do you like being in charge?”

He actually thought about it.

“I like teaching.”

“Really?”

“The administrative part can disappear tomorrow.”

Your aunt laughed.

“See? That’s exactly what she says.”

He looked over.

“You complain about administration too?”

You stared.

“…You think OB is immune to hospital politics?”

“Fair.”

“I spend half my life in meetings.”

“I thought you just delivered babies.”

You gasped dramatically.

“You did not just reduce my entire specialty to that.”

“I absolutely did.”

“I perform surgeries.”

“I know.”

“I manage high-risk pregnancies.”

“I know.”

“I save lives.”

“I know.”

“You ass.”

He smiled into his coffee.

“I like when you get worked up.”

“I know you do.”

Grandma watched the exchange with unmistakable amusement. Then she leaned toward your mother.

“Look.”

“I know.”

“They bicker.”

“I know.”

“They’re adorable.”

“Oh my God,” you groaned. “Mom.”

Your mother wasn’t even pretending not to smile anymore.

“They’re not wrong.”

“Aunt Maggie…”

“They’re not wrong either.”

You looked at Robby for help. The traitor had the audacity to look entertained.

“You’re enjoying this.”

“I might be.”

“I need you on my side.”

“I am.”

“Doesn’t feel like you are.”

“You’ll recover.”

“You are literally laughing at me.”

“I exhaled.”

“You smiled.”

“I tolerated.”

You pointed accusingly.

“See? He does that!”

Your cousins were nearly doubled over.

“I like him,” Tyler announced.

“I gathered.”

“No,” he continued. “Like…he gets your sarcasm.”

Ben nodded.

“Nobody usually gets your sarcasm.”

“I am sitting right here.”

“We know.”

“You guys are awful.”

“We learned from you.”

Before you could defend yourself, Grandpa stood.

“I’m going to check on that old snowblower.”

“I’ll give you a hand.”

Every head turned toward Robby.

“You don’t have to do that,” Grandpa said.

“I know.”

“You just got here.”

“I’ve been sitting for three hours.”

“So?”

“I’ll feel guilty.”

Grandpa laughed.

“I understand that.”

The two men disappeared toward the mudroom. Your grandmother watched them leave before quietly saying, “I like that.”

You frowned.

“What?”

“He didn’t ask because he wanted to impress anybody. He asked because he saw something that needed doing.”

Your mother nodded.

“Your father was like that.”

The room became quiet for a moment. Not painfully. Respectfully. Your chest tightened. Then Aunt Maggie ruined it.

“So.”

“No.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to ask.”

“I do.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

She grinned wickedly.

“When are you two getting married?”

“Maggie!”

“What?”

“We’re not—” you huffed. “We’re just—”

You stopped. Because…what were you? You and Robby had never put labels on anything beyond the obvious. You were together. Exclusively. Most nights were spent at his apartment. You knew where he kept the extra coffee. He knew exactly how you liked your tea.

You’d met Frank Langdon. Dana adored you. Mel teased both of you mercilessly. You slept curled against his chest more often than you slept in your own bed. But neither of you had ever…said it. Not out loud.

“We’re happy,” you answered finally.

Your mother smiled softly.

“That’s enough.”

Thankfully. Very thankfully. The back door opened before anyone could continue. Grandpa walked back in, stomping snow from his boots. Robby followed with a light dusting of snow across the shoulders of his coat.

“Snowblower still runs,” Grandpa announced.

“Barely,” Robby replied.

“It’s older than both of us.”

“Combined.”

Grandpa barked out a laugh.

“I told him the carburetor sticks.”

“It does.”

“He fixed it.”

You blinked.

“…You fixed it?”

Robby shrugged while pulling off his gloves.

“It wasn’t much.”

“You’ve known him for…” Tyler looked at his watch dramatically. “…four hours.”

“Little over.”

“And you fixed Grandpa’s snowblower?”

“It was sticking.”

“So you fixed it?”

“…Yeah.”

Grandma looked entirely too pleased.

“I told you.”

“Told us what?” you asked.

She looked at your mother.

“He’s a keeper.”

Heat rushed into your face.

“Oh my God.”

“What?”

“Grandma.”

She looked genuinely confused.

“I didn’t say marry him.”

“Yet,” Aunt Maggie muttered.

“Maggie.”

“I’m just saying.”

Your mother laughed into her coffee.

“You all are impossible.”

“No,” Tyler said.

He looked between you and Robby.

“We’re just confused.”

“About what?”

“You’ve been dating for almost a year.”

“Tyler.”

“What?”

“How have you not figured out you’re in love yet?”

Silence. Complete. Utter. Silence. Your eyes grew wide. Your mother looked horrified.

“Tyler.”

“What?”

“You cannot ask people that.”

“It was just a question.”

Ben nodded.

“It kinda was.”

Your face burned so hot you thought you might spontaneously combust. You looked at Robby. He was already looking at you. Not embarrassed. Not panicked. Watching you. Calmly. Like he was waiting to see if you were okay. Your grandmother broke the silence first.

“Leave them alone.”

“I was just asking.”

“They’ll figure it out.”

Grandpa took another sip of coffee.

“They already have.”

Nobody said anything else. Conversation slowly drifted back to football, weather, and whether the roads would freeze overnight. But you barely heard any of it. Because from across the living room, while everyone else was distracted, you caught Robby looking at you again.

He gave you the smallest, almost imperceptible smile. One that said Breathe. One that somehow made the room feel quieter despite all the laughter around you. And then, a few minutes later, you wandered into the kitchen to refill your coffee. When you came back, you stopped in the doorway.

Robby was sitting on the living room floor. On the floor. Your six-foot-three, perpetually exhausted, bad-kneed emergency physician. Cross-legged on your mother’s rug. Tyler and Ben had talked him into helping them assemble a model airplane they’d gotten for Christmas and never finished.

Grandpa was offering completely unsolicited advice. Grandma was knitting in her recliner while sneaking glances over the top of her glasses. Your mother stood in the kitchen doorway, drying a dish she hadn’t touched in nearly five minutes because she was too busy watching.

And Robby…was laughing. Not the dry little huff you usually coaxed out of him. Not the sarcastic chuckle he gave Frank. A real laugh. Head tipped back slightly. Eyes crinkled. Shoulders relaxed.

It hit you so suddenly it almost knocked the breath from your lungs. He looked…like he belonged there. Like he’d always belonged there. And instead of bringing relief, something unexpected twisted painfully in your chest. Because everyone loved him. Effortlessly.

They’d folded him into your family in a single afternoon. You should have been thrilled. Instead, a tiny, irrational voice whispered in the back of your mind.

They’re all looking at him now.

They’re all laughing with him.

They don’t need you to keep the conversation going anymore.

You hated yourself for thinking it. You hated how childish it sounded. But the feeling lingered all the same. Robby glanced up from the airplane as though he’d sensed your eyes on him. The moment he saw you standing quietly in the doorway, his smile softened.

“You okay?”

The room continued buzzing around him. But he was only looking at you. And somehow that made the ache in your chest hurt even more.

******

You lasted another fifteen minutes. That, you decided later, was actually pretty impressive. You smiled through another story about your residency years. You laughed when Tyler and Ben insisted Robby settle the great debate over whether cereal counted as soup. You even survived your grandmother asking him if he’d always had “those little gray hairs at his temples,” to which he’d replied, completely straight-faced, “No. Your granddaughter gave me those.”

The room had erupted into laughter. You had laughed too. But somewhere underneath it all, your chest still felt…tight. Not because anyone had done anything wrong. Because they hadn’t. Everything had gone exactly the way you’d hoped. Better, actually. So why did it suddenly feel like you couldn’t breathe?

“I’ll be right back,” you murmured, setting your coffee mug on the kitchen counter.

Your mother barely looked up.

“Okay, sweetheart.”

You slipped your boots back on in the mudroom and quietly stepped out the back door. The cold hit you immediately. Pennsylvania winter didn’t ease you into anything. It grabbed your lungs, stole your breath, and painted your cheeks pink within seconds.

Snow covered the backyard in a thick blanket, untouched except for a few rabbit tracks cutting across toward the old maple tree. The porch creaked beneath your boots as you walked to the railing. The air was so still that you could hear the faint crunch of cars driving somewhere on the main road a mile away.

You inhaled deeply. Then again. Your eyes burned.

“Oh, honey.”

You smiled weakly before you even turned around.

“I knew you’d follow me eventually.”

Your mother stepped outside carrying two knit blankets over one arm.

“You’ve been disappearing outside since you were twelve.”

She wrapped one around your shoulders before settling beside you against the porch railing. Neither of you spoke for a minute. You watched your breath disappear into the gray afternoon. Finally she asked quietly,

“So…”

You sighed.

“So.”

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

She gave you the exact look every mother somehow perfected before their children were even born.

“The nice thing about raising you by myself?”

You groaned softly.

“Mom…”

“I know every version of your ‘nothing.’”

You stared out across the snowy yard.

“I’m just…” Your throat tightened. “I don’t know.”

“You do.”

“I…” You laughed once, though there wasn’t much humor in it. “I sound ridiculous.”

“I’ll decide that.”

You looked down at your boots.

“I thought…” You rubbed your gloved thumb across the porch railing. “I thought I’d spend today worried you’d all hate him.”

She blinked.

“Hate him?”

“I know.”

“Honey.”

“I know.”

She waited.

“And instead…” You swallowed. “You all love him.”

Your mother smiled.

“We do.”

“I know.”

“You sound disappointed.”

“I’m not.”

“But…”

Your eyes filled despite yourself.

“I feel…” You searched for the right word. “…scared of if this doesn’t work.”

The confession hung in the cold air between you. Your mother didn’t laugh. Didn’t tell you it was silly. She simply looked at you with all the gentleness in the world.

“Oh, sweetheart.”

“I know how awful that sounds.”

“It doesn’t.”

“It does.”

“No.”

She shook her head.

“It sounds like someone who’s realizing just how important another person has become.”

A tear slipped down your cheek before you could stop it.

“I walked into the living room…” Your voice cracked. “…and everybody was laughing with him.”

“I saw.”

“And he looked…” You smiled through the tears. “…happy.”

“He did.”

“I’ve never seen him like that.”

“I haven’t either.”

“You’ve known him for six hours.”

“I know.”

“But…” Your shoulders slumped. “He fit.”

The words came out barely above a whisper.

“He fits here.”

Your mother reached over and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, just like she’d done when you were six years old.

“You know what I noticed?”

“What?”

“He watches you.”

You frowned.

“What?”

“He watches you.” She smiled softly. “You walk into a room…and within ten seconds he’s looking to see where you are.”

You blinked.

“When your grandmother hugged him, the first person he looked at was you.”

You hadn’t noticed.

“When your cousins started dragging him into the living room…he looked at you. When your grandfather asked him to help with the snowblower…he looked at you. When everyone laughed after Tyler’s question…he looked at you.”

Your mother chuckled quietly.

“I finally stopped watching him.”

“You did?”

“I started watching what he was watching.”

Your heart began beating a little faster.

“And?”

The statements nearly undid you. She leaned against the railing.

“You know what else I noticed?”

You shook your head.

“He never once let you carry your own plate into the kitchen.”

You frowned.

“…He didn’t?”

“No.”

“He opened every door for you.”

“I didn’t even notice.”

“Exactly.”

“He filled your coffee before you realized it was empty.”

You thought back. He had.

“I watched him reach over and straighten the collar of your sweater while everyone was talking.”

Your eyes widened.

“He did?”

“He didn’t even think about it.”

Your mother’s smile grew impossibly warm.

“It was instinct.”

A fresh tear rolled down your cheek.

“I don’t think he realizes he does those things.”

“I don’t think he does either.”

Silence settled again. Then your mother spoke so quietly you almost missed it.

“Your father would’ve loved him.”

Your breath caught. Not because she’d said it. Because she’d said it with complete certainty.

“He would’ve?”

“Oh, absolutely.” She laughed softly. “Your dad would’ve pretended to interrogate him for an hour.”

You smiled through your tears.

“He would’ve.”

“And then…” She looked toward the warm glow spilling from the kitchen windows. “…he would’ve pulled me aside and said, ‘That one’s in deep.’”

Your lips trembled.

“What do you mean?”

“He would’ve seen exactly what I see.”

“And what’s that?”

Your mother turned fully toward you. Her voice was gentle.

“That man loves you.”

Your eyes closed. You hadn’t even said the words. Neither of you had. You shook your head.

“We’ve never—”

“I know.”

“You can’t know that.”

“I can.”

“Mom…”

“I’ve been married.” She smiled sadly. “I’ve been in love.”

She reached for your hand.

“And I’ve watched your father look at me exactly the way Robby looks at you.”

Your composure shattered. The tears came all at once. Not loud. Not dramatic. Just silent. Relentless. Your mother wrapped both arms around you without saying another word. You buried your face against her shoulder like you hadn’t done since medical school, when you’d called after your first patient died.

“I miss Dad.”

“I know.”

“I wish…” You couldn’t even finish the sentence.

“I know.”

“I just wanted…” Another shaky breath. “…one day. One day where Dad got to meet the man I…”

You stopped yourself. Your mother gently rubbed your back.

“The man you what?”

A soft creak interrupted the moment. The back door opened. Both of you turned. Robby stepped onto the porch, pausing the instant he saw you crying.

He didn’t rush over. He didn’t ask questions. He simply looked from your mother…to you. Your mother smiled knowingly.

“I think that’s my cue.”

She squeezed your hand once. Then, as she walked past him, she lightly touched his arm.

“Be good to my girl.”

Robby’s expression softened.

“I always am.”

“I know.”

She disappeared back inside, quietly closing the door behind her. For a moment, neither of you moved. Snow drifted lazily between you. Finally, Robby walked across the porch. He stopped beside you without saying a word. He looked out over the yard, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat.

“You came out without yours,” he observed after a moment.

“I know.”

“It’s twenty-three degrees.”

“I know.”

“You’ll get sick.”

“I’m a doctor.”

“So am I.”

A tiny smile tugged at your lips. He slipped out of his coat without another word. Before you could protest, he draped it over your shoulders. It was still warm from him. It smelled like cedar, clean laundry…and that unmistakable scent that was simply Robby.

“You’ll freeze.”

“I run warmer than you.”

“You always say that.”

“I’m always right.”

You wrapped the coat tighter around yourself.

“You usually are.”

Silence settled again. He didn’t push. Didn’t pry. Just stood beside you. Shoulder brushing yours.

“You ready to tell me what’s going on, kid?”

You stared out at the snow.

“I thought…” You laughed weakly. “…I thought today would prove we didn’t work.”

He frowned.

“What?”

“The age difference.”

He sighed quietly.

“Your job.”

Another sigh.

“My family.”

“I’ve met them.”

“I kept waiting for someone to look at us and think…” You swallowed. “…what is a forty-nine-year-old man doing with my daughter?”

Robby was quiet for a long moment. Then he looked over at you.

“I wasn’t interviewing.”

You blinked.

“What?”

“I didn’t come here to convince anybody.” He shrugged one shoulder. “I came because you asked me to.”

The simplicity of it hit harder than any grand speech ever could.

“I know.”

“No.” His voice was calm. “I came because you wanted me here.”

Another beat.

“And because they’re your family.” His eyes softened. “That makes them important to me.”

You finally looked at him.

“They all love you.”

He gave the smallest shrug.

“I like them.”

“You…just like them?”

“They’re loud.”

“They are.”

“They tease you.”

“They do.”

“They fed me until I couldn’t move.”

You laughed.

“They do that.”

“They remind me of you.”

His voice grew quieter.

“So…yeah.” Another pause. “I like them.”

You stared at him.

“You know…”

He raised an eyebrow.

“I think you’re intentionally avoiding saying sentimental things.”

“I absolutely am.”

“Why?”

“Because they’re dangerous.”

“Dangerous?”

“You start expecting me to be poetic.”

“I’d settle for honest.”

His eyes held yours. Long enough that the sounds from inside the house faded away.

“When it comes to you…” His voice dropped almost to a whisper. “…I’ve always been honest.”

Your heart stumbled. Neither of you said another word. Neither of you needed to. For the first time all day the anxiety finally began to melt away with the falling snow.

******

The drive back to Pittsburgh was quiet. Not because anything was wrong. Quite the opposite. There was a comfortable fullness to the silence, like the day had finally settled into both of you. The roads were darker now, the snow reflecting the headlights in soft waves as Robby guided the truck back toward the city. His right hand rested on the steering wheel while his left remained loosely intertwined with yours across the center console.

Neither of you seemed eager to let go. Every now and then he’d rub his thumb over the back of your hand absentmindedly. Every time he did, your heart squeezed.

“You’ve been smiling at the dashboard for twenty miles.”

You looked over.

“I have not.”

“You have.”

“I’ve been thinking.”

“Dangerous.”

You smiled.

“I think your reputation is ruined.”

“My reputation?”

“My family thinks you’re adorable.”

He made a face.

“I’ve spent two decades cultivating a healthy amount of fear.”

“I know.”

“And your grandmother undid it in one afternoon.”

“She did.”

“Called me handsome.”

“She wasn’t wrong.”

His ears pinked just enough for you to notice.

“You enjoying this?”

“Immensely.”

“I knew sleeping with you was a mistake.”

You laughed, resting your head against the window.

“It really wasn’t.”

He glanced over for only a second.

“No. It wasn’t.”

The warmth in his voice lingered long after the conversation faded again.

******

It was almost ten-thirty by the time the elevator doors opened onto his floor. The apartment greeted you the same way it always did. Quiet. Warm. The faint scent of cedar from the bookshelf in the living room mixed with coffee that had long since gone cold in the pot he’d forgotten to empty before leaving that morning.

Home.

Without saying much, the two of you slipped into the easy rhythm you’d built over the last year. He locked the door while you kicked off your boots. You wandered into the bedroom and disappeared into the bathroom to wash your face. When you came back a few minutes later, your hair was damp around your temples, and you were wearing one of his faded PTMC T-shirts that reached the middle of your thighs.

You’d stolen it months ago. Neither of you pretended it was temporary anymore. Robby had already changed into an old pair of gray sleep pants and a black T-shirt. He looked impossibly tired. The kind of tired that settled into his bones.

“You okay?” you asked softly.

He looked up from turning off the bedside lamp.

“Hm?”

“You look exhausted.”

“I am.”

“You should’ve told me.”

“I wanted to go.”

“I know.”

“And I’d do it again tomorrow.”

Your chest warmed.

“You don’t have to keep proving yourself.”

He frowned.

“I wasn’t.”

“You weren’t?”

“No.” He crossed the room until he was standing in front of you. “I wasn’t there to prove anything.”

His hand found your waist naturally.

“I was there because you wanted me there.”

You looked up at him.

“I know.”

“I wanted to meet the people who made you…” His lips twitched. “…you.”

You smiled.

“They liked you.”

“I noticed.”

“They really liked you.”

“They’re easy people to like.”

You laughed quietly.

“I spent weeks worrying.”

“I know.”

“For nothing.”

He brushed a thumb along your cheek.

“I wish you’d told me.”

“I didn’t want to sound ridiculous.”

“You wouldn’t have.”

“I got scared.”

That made him blink.

“…scared?”

You nodded once.

“Watching everyone gather around you…” You laughed softly at yourself. “…it was stupid.”

“I bet it wasn’t.”

“I felt…” You searched for the words. “…like I’d finally brought two parts of my life together.”

His expression softened.

“And?”

“And then I realized…” Your eyes drifted down to where your fingers had begun absentmindedly playing with the hem of his shirt. “…how much I’d lose if you ever weren’t there.”

The room became impossibly still. Robby didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he reached up and gently tipped your chin until you were looking at him again.

“You know what I spent today thinking about?”

You shook your head.

“I kept looking at your family…” A faint smile appeared. “…and wondering if this is what holidays are supposed to feel like.”

Your heart caught.

“You’ve never really had that.”

“No.”

“They argued.”

“They absolutely argued.”

“They laughed over each other.”

“They did.”

“Nobody cared who was talking.”

You smiled.

“They never have.”

His voice became quieter.

“I liked watching you become somebody’s granddaughter again.”

Your eyes immediately stung. You smiled through the tears threatening again. He brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“They were taking care of you.”

You stepped closer until there wasn’t any space left between you. He wrapped both arms around you without hesitation. The hug was slow. Unhurried. The kind that came after a long day, when neither person needed anything except to know the other was there.

You could hear his heartbeat beneath your cheek. Steady. Comforting. Real.

“I missed that,” you whispered.

“What?”

“Feeling like somebody’s kid.”

His chin rested lightly against the top of your head.

“I know.”

You stood there for another minute before he finally murmured, “C’mon.”

“You falling asleep standing up?”

“…Maybe.”

You laughed.

“Thought so.”

The bedroom was dark except for the amber glow of the streetlight filtering through the curtains. You slid beneath the comforter first. A moment later, the mattress dipped as Robby climbed in beside you. Almost instinctively, you rolled toward him. He opened one arm before you even reached him. Like he’d been expecting you to.

You tucked yourself against his chest, your cheek resting just below his collarbone. The oversized shirt you’d stolen bunched slightly beneath the blankets as his hand slipped beneath the soft cotton to rest against the small of your back. His palm was warm. His touch familiar. Slowly, lazily, he began tracing absent circles against your skin. Not with any destination in mind. Just because he knew it relaxed you.

Outside, snow tapped gently against the bedroom window. Inside, there was only the quiet rhythm of your breathing beginning to match his.

“You smell good,” you mumbled.

A sleepy chuckle vibrated beneath your cheek.

“I smell like soap.”

“And you.”

“That’s convenient.”

“It is.”

His fingers continued their slow path across your back. You closed your eyes. For a while, neither of you spoke. There wasn’t a need. The silence wasn’t empty anymore. It felt…full.

Like something had quietly shifted over the course of the day. You thought about your mother. About your grandmother slipping her arm through his. About your cousins laughing with him on the living room floor. About your father’s absence. About the place Robby had somehow occupied without trying to replace anyone.

You realized something. You weren’t imagining a future anymore. You were living the beginning of one. Your fingers curled lightly into the fabric of his shirt.

“Robby?”

“Hm?”

His voice was already heavy with sleep. You lifted your head just enough to look at him. In the dim light, you could barely make out his face. The lines of exhaustion. The silver beginning to thread through his dark hair. The man who carried so much for everyone else. The man who had quietly, steadily become your safest place. Your voice was barely more than a whisper.

“…I love you.”

For one terrifying heartbeat…Nothing. His hand stopped moving against your back. You felt your stomach drop. Then he exhaled slowly. Not in surprise. Almost in relief.

He opened his eyes and looked at you with a softness you’d never seen before. His hand came up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing gently across your cheek. He leaned forward and kissed your forehead. Then the bridge of your nose. Then one quiet, lingering kiss against your lips that said more than either of you ever could. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.

“I was wondering,” he whispered with the smallest smile, “which one of us was going to be brave enough to say it first.”

A tear escaped before you could stop it. He caught it with his thumb.

“I love you, too.”

There was no hesitation. No uncertainty. No dramatic declaration. Just complete, unwavering certainty.

“I think…” he murmured, “…I’ve loved you for a while.”

You laughed softly through your tears.

“How long?”

“I don’t know.”

“You know.”

He sighed with mock defeat.

“…The morning you fell asleep on my couch after that twenty-nine shift.”

You smiled.

“That long?”

“You stole my blanket.”

“I was cold.”

“You drooled on my pillow.”

“I did not.”

“The stain is still there.”

You laughed, hiding your face against his neck.

“I can’t believe that’s the moment.”

“It wasn’t because of the blanket.”

“No?”

“It was because…” He paused, searching for words the way he always did when something mattered. “…I looked at you, and for the first time in a very long time…”

His arms tightened around you.

“…home looked like a person.”

Your breath caught. You didn’t answer. You simply kissed him once more, slow and tender, before settling back against his chest. His hand returned beneath your shirt, gently rubbing soothing circles along your back as the apartment fell quiet again.

Outside, snow continued to blanket the city. Inside, wrapped safely in each other’s arms, the line between the person you were dating and the person you were building a life with disappeared so naturally that neither of you noticed the exact moment it happened. Only that, somehow, when morning came…it would feel like it had always been this way.

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