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It's a perfunctory date – the illusion of choice. They stroll the gardens in uncomfortable silence, but at least it's Tia Pepa chaperoning them tonight; she sees fit to give them a modicum of space.

“Well, aren't we two peas,” Vanessa muses.

“Quite.” Eddie nods. The Lady Caballos is taking all this in such good humour, it even serves to lift his sour mood. “I was beginning to think my mother was writing the monasteries about me.”

“Oh, mine definitely is.”

“A single father, widowed would-be divorcé was not her first choice?” He raises his eyebrow in mock surprise, and Vanessa laughs. Perhaps there's love to be found in this too. “Two peas indeed.”

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It's another pedestrian-meets-vehicle collision – and it won't be his last – but something about the approach feels painfully familiar. Eddie recognises that purple shirt, and feels himself compelled forward but this time, Buck doesn't try to stop him. He doesn't know. None of them know how deep he is in this. His heart wants to jump out of his chest.

He checks her pulse, shakes her shoulder.

“Vanessa. Ness, can you hear me?”

It's a long, terrifying second, but she groans and open her eyes. She smiles drowsily up at him through the shock and the blood loss.

“My hero,” she mumbles.

He finally lets his breath out, and waves Hen over with the stretcher.

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It feels surreal; even sticking the invitation to the fridge almost makes him tear up.

“Never thought you'd see the day, huh?” Vanessa teases gently.

Eddie can only laugh. He and Buck have known each other a good decade by now, and walked together through the literal and metaphorical fires of ten times that, and there's an air of nostalgia and fantasy about it all that inspires him to ask –

“So what do you think?”

“About the fifteenth?”

He shakes his head, and tries to ignore the way his heart starts to race. “About... marriage. Would you ever try again?”

Vanessa tilts her head.

“Maybe,” she says, “if the right man is asking.”

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It's Vanessa's niece's quinces, and it's not like she's not dancing; it's just that Eddie is really, really dancing. For a man in his thirties, he's keeping up well with Mia, who takes classes, and loves nothing more than to show him the moves. Except maybe to correct his execution of them.

“So...” Mia's mother Camille sidles up to Vanessa, stirring her cocktail conspiratorially. “Mia approves of Tio Edmundo.”

“Let's hope she's not the only one. Ma and Tia Maria are going to corner him any second.”

“He did bring carnations,” Camille points out. “Man's got some moves.”

“Yeah,” Vanessa agrees fondly, still unable to take her eyes off the dance floor. “He does.”

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“Thanks for changing things up tonight,” Eddie sighs - almost groans - as he collapses into the couch. “It was the worst shift ever. I'm just really not feeling up to going out.”

“Don't even worry about it,” Vanessa insists. “I had Cavallettis delivered.”

“Has anyone ever told you, you're the best?”

Eddie reaches for her, so she detours for a kiss, but a a soft mewl interrupts them. Eddie looks down, and sees a soft grey cat eyeing him inscrutably. He smiles.

“You didn't tell me we were having company,” he teases. Vanessa rolls her eyes as the cat jumps up to investigate, and mewls again.

“Eddie, Chula,” she introduces. “Chula, Eddie.”