The TV blares loudly: “It’s halloween and you know what that means, kids! That’s right! Candy!” I turn off the tube, when I hear the doorbell ring.

Children’s voices can be heard all across the block, yelling, “Trick or treat!” The little monsters giggle and run away when they receive their candy.

“One second!” I call out.

I run and grab the candy bowl. I check my Dracula makeup in the mirror. Little George is accompanying me in a small cow costume and every time I answer the door, the parents all gawk at him.

“He’s so cute!” one mother says, in admiration.

Georgie just sits there, smiling at each new passer-byre, completely unfazed by the scary costumes.

“Alright,” I announce, “who wants candy?!”

Every child raises their hand in unison. They bounce on the edges of their feet, trying to get a peak of the candy. They can barely contain themselves, as they reach into the bowl. I give out my last piece of candy out and keep my door open as the children walk off with their parents.

In the distance, I watch them move onto the next house. I feel a wave of nostalgia for a brief moment, and then everything changes.

A deep voice calls out my name. “Jackie!” The resonance hits my ears. I take a step back and squint against the darkness. “Don’t close the door!”

I see him. Lawrence is running my way. In the first few seconds, I can’t fathom it, but then it starts to sink in. Of course he was going to come here. After talking to him on the phone, it should have been obvious that he wasn’t about to give up right then and there.

“No,” I whisper. “Just turn around.”

“Come on,” he says, barely winded from running. “I rode all this way on a bus. Just wait a second.”

As soon as his boots hit the steps up to my door, George begins crying loudly. I hastily turn around, stunned.

Lawrence stammers, “What’s going on in there?”

I try to shout but only a short whisper comes out. “Just leave!”

His hand hits the doorknob. The moment I’ve been dreading is finally here. “I thought you weren’t ever going to come back,” I say.

I feel defeated. I feel annoyed. And then I look at him again and he looks better than before. He’s stronger, though he does have a darker gleam to his eye. He smiles at me, but there is too much pain between us.

“You weren’t supposed to come back,” I say.

“Well, I did. I had to.”

That’s his answer. After a year of disappearing on me, he gives me that. George lets out another cry. It grabs Lawrence’s attention for the second time.

He lets out a short chuckle and tries to look inside, but I’m quick enough to block him. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asks.

“I didn’t say you could come inside,” I say, feeling my heart pound with anxiety.

“You looking after someone’s kid, or something? You know me. I’m not a bad guy,” he says.

I disagree. “I don’t know you anymore. You’ve been gone for a year, living out some Mr. Mountain Man lifestyle, or whatever you want to call your new look,” I say. “For all I know, you could be all sorts of weird. I’ve seen the reports on TV and Facebook. People think you went crazy.”

“Yeah?” He lets out an annoyed laugh. “Well, fuck people.”

I’m not going to listen to his angst. He doesn’t even know what angst is. “You’re not coming inside, Lawrence. Whatever you have to say can be said right here.”

Of course, he doesn’t take no for answer. He simply walks up to me and stops before our chests touch. I don’t step back this time. I hold my ground, as strong as a mother can.

“Stop,” I tell him, pushing his chest back.

“Or what?” He grins.

“Or I… call the cops,” I stutter.

His hand rests near my waist, against the corner of the door. My body feels tight and warm. When he smiles again, I don’t know whether to slap him or kiss him.

“Do you know how ridiculous you sound?” he asks.

His eyes keep moving, up and down my body. They rest at the sight of my lips. A warmth penetrates between my legs. I step back and he places his boot in between my shoes.

“Stop,” I repeat. But he’s not stopping. Instead, he reaches out and grabs my waist.

“You don’t want me to stop. Do you?” he asks.

I’m caught, paralyzed. I don’t know how to answer that question. “It’s been a year, Lawrence. I waited for you.” I trail off and look down at the cement. Then, out of nowhere, I feel his lips against mine.

I lower into him for a brief moment. I just melt. His fingers slide around my butt. It’s not something I mean to do. It just sort of happens like that. Yet, when reality butts in, I pull away and take two steps back inside. When he moves forward, I run back and put both hands against his chest. He tries to kiss me again, but I quickly whisper, “No!”

He looks at me with sorry eyes. “Not right now,” I correct myself. “It’s not the time or the place.”

“Right. Because you’re babysitting. Makes sense,” he says.

Something just clicks inside of me. “No. That’s not why,” I say.

“Then why the fuck not?” he asks.

I just lay it all on the table, like he did to me one year ago.

“Because I’m not babysitting.” I let that sink in. “And that’s our baby.”

He finally takes that step back, out of my house. “What?” he asks.

“He’s our baby,” I repeat. I open the door to George’s smiling face, and walk back to the kitchen to pour myself and him a strong drink.