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Toby meets her at baggage claim, like a gentleman. He doesn't bring a sign with CJ's full name on it or anything like that—wouldn't know which iteration of her name to put down, anyhow, she goes by so many of them. He makes sure he's visible by the secure exit connecting the terminals to the external waiting area. Over the PA system, an employee announces—not very clearly—that the arriving flight from Los Angeles should pick up their luggage at Carousel 6.
He pays close attention to the people coming in, dragging various amounts of bags around, dressed up and dressed down. A limousine driver steps in front of him, approaching an upper-class pairing and they make their way altogether to a car waiting outside. A family, a tearful reunion or two. After the incoming crowd begins to lighten up, Toby starts to think he had the wrong flight time. Maybe he should've met her directly at the gate, ensured the safe journey of one Claudia Jean Cregg from plane to car to house. If he lost her, Andy would never forgive him. He's about to triple-check the arrivals board when—
There she is.
CJ, coming into view on an escalator step, with a leather tote and roller suitcase, wearing surprisingly appropriate attire for the weather. In a tan wool coat, she beams when she sees him, quickly approaching with her arsenal of personal items in tow. It's a small celebration, not having seen each other in person in a while. Her hair's shorter, his beard's filled out more, she's light on her feet, he's just the same. Toby gives her a fierce one-armed hug, a kiss on both cheeks, then he offers to take the roller suitcase, which is heavier than it looks.
The corners of CJ's mouth turn up. "Thanks for inviting me for the holidays."
"If I didn't, you'd be in Dayton, miserable around miserable-er relatives."
"Miserable-er?" She snorts at the fake word.
"You got tan."
"You didn't."
"Hardly any sun these days." He sighs. "How was the flight?"
Breaking eye contact, CJ shrugs, tote swinging at her side. "Could be worse. There was turbulence over the Rockies, and a neighbor with a complete disregard of the rules of splitting an armrest, but a glass of wine fixed me right up." She takes note of empty seats and crowded carousels, her blond highlights shimmering in harsh light. "Where's Andy?"
"She had a welcoming committee thing," Toby replies smoothly. "She'll join us for dinner."
"Okay."
They take the elevator to the second floor of the parking garage. He loads her bags in the trunk of the Dodge Dart. The slam of metal echoes through the concrete building. Before locking the seat belt, CJ rolls her shoulders in the cramped passenger seat, attempting to wear out a crick in her neck. The flat slate sky ripples, turns shimmery, through the windshield as Toby gets in the car and coaxes the ignition. His breath fogs in short clouds, joining CJ's as she tries to acclimate herself to the cold. She cranks up the heat.
The gearshift clicks into reverse. Toby says, "We're getting married."
"Hm?"
He runs his tongue over his lower lip, checking the side mirrors and pausing for a pedestrian walking by. "We're getting married."
A confused pause.
"Aren't we already? Lower taxes, you on my health insurance plan, the crushing weight of heteronormative expectations on a woman such as myself..."
"Wait for it," Toby mutters under his breath, as CJ gasps in a fashion so dramatic she could've made it all the way to off-Broadway.
"No! Toby!" CJ smacks his arm, voice raised dangerously high, dangerously loud, laced with dramatic flair. He winces at the sting and the volume. "You asked her? You asked Andy without telling me first?! You—"
Her mouth agape, her eyes wider than he's ever seen, Claudia Jean looks like she's about to murder him, betrayed only because she loves surprises, loves love. Toby bursts into fits of deep laughter, chuckling then keeping his focus on the road, remembering Andy's thrill when he got down on one knee, making a fool of himself because he'd admitted himself to be a fool in love.
It wasn't anything near that with CJ. He'd been drowning in hospital bills after a health scare with his migraines and seeing countless doctors for aimless cures, then instability after a failed campaign that should've been the long-term solution for his future. She'd abandoned her family for a seaside haven and avoided Dayton like the plague in between breakups with women she'd idolized. The final straw had been a splintering argument with her father who admitted he was waiting for a man to, quote, swoop in and take care of his only daughter who couldn't seem to settle down.
Spilled tears, refusal to accept anything less than she thought she deserved—which was already a tricky thing for CJ to figure out. It was a joke at first, over beer, a gesture from one friend to another, the least he could do. Why don't you marry me?
She'd said sure, why not?
Signatures on the dotted line in a courthouse, something that just was.
If CJ had to marry somebody, it would be Toby.
"It's going to be a summer wedding," he explains, cocking his head to one side. "Andrea's idea. June, July, she wants it outdoors. I don't know how we'll deal with the humidity, but we will." It feels surreal, planning it out. Putting words to it. He'd do anything for her, including standing outside and reciting vows beneath a bracing sun, bees buzzing in his ear. Anything to have a future with Andy.
Shaking her head, kneading a thumb against a palm, CJ stumbles through her thoughts, a stilted rhythm to her speech, somewhere in the intersection of disbelief and pride. She manages to temporarily contain her joy in tight fists twisting into her kneecaps. "I'm invited, right? Wait, no. I'm ordained. I can marry you two. I can't believe—When?!"
Truck horns honk. Dry heat whirs through car vents. Toby goes into detal about the antique shop he'd gone to with Andy and purchased the ring when she wasn't looking, but figures he'd leave the proposal story to Andy herself. "She should be done on the Hill around nine. I've got leftover brisket and potatoes in the fridge."
"Oh, great, I'm dying for some real food." CJ hums approvingly.
Activating the turn signal and merging into another lane for the upcoming exit, Toby clears his throat and pushes himself to say the words. "Later this week..."
"Yeah?"
"I've scheduled a time for you and I to meet with an attorney."
"Oh." CJ hums, after some thought. Somber, bittersweet. "Well, I guess that's okay."
"Yeah."
"We had it good there for a while."
"We did."
Their eyes meet, followed by softness. By all the love between them.
"Andy's lucky to have you." CJ's voice cracks.
"We both are."
His fingers twitch on the steering wheel, choosing to stay within the imagined borders of his reserved thought. She reaches over, squeezing his hand in hers.