Two small kids who couldn’t be more than six years old stood on the doorstep with really elaborate cloth sacks extended.

“Trick or treat!” they pretty much shouted.

“Happy Halloween,” I said, taking in the petite Power Ranger and Captain America as I dropped a few pieces of candy into each bag.

“Thank you!” they shouted back simultaneously before running to the adult standing at the end of the sidewalk waiting for them. The adult figure waved at me and I waved back before sticking my head back into the house. “I’ll be outside,” I called out to Aiden, grabbing the collapsible chair that I’d left right by the door earlier for this occasion.

I’d barely settled into the seat on the small patio outside when the front door opened and the legs of a chair just like mine peeked out, the big six-foot-almost-five man I was legally married to following after it.

“What are you doing?” I asked as he dropped his chair next to mine, further away from the door.

“Nothing.” He eyed me as he pretty much fell into the canvas. Honestly, a small part of me was worried it was going to rip at the seams when he plopped down, but by some miracle it didn’t. Leaning back, he crossed his arms over his chest and stared forward across the street.

And I stared at him.

He never sat outside. Ever. When would he have time? And why would he?

“Okay,” I mumbled to myself, moving my attention back to the street to spot a pair of kids three houses down. It was still early, only six, so I didn’t think much of the absence of little ones crowding the streets. In my neighborhood growing up, it would be five o’clock and the streets would be lined with the smallest children first, and by eight o’clock, the older ones would be busy making their rounds. Most of the houses in that neighborhood had been decorated to the best of their abilities—never ours though—but it had been awesome. Everyone had been into it.

My mom never really went out of her way to buy us costumes, but that didn’t stop my little brother or me from dressing up. I’d gotten really good about making something out of nothing. Every year, hell or high water, we dressed up and went out with Diana, chaperoned by her parents.

Even at my apartment complex, there were quite a bit of kids who had dropped by in the two years I’d been there. This, on the other hand, was a bit of a disappointment, but maybe it was just too early?

“You like all this stuff?” that gruff voice peeped up.

I sat back in the chair and plucked a small Kit Kat from the jack-o-lantern on my lap. “Yes.” I shoved half of it into my mouth, letting it hang out like a cigarette. “I like the costumes and the imagination. The candy. But I love the costumes the most.”

He eyeballed me briefly. “I can’t tell.”

I crossed my eyes and angled myself slightly toward him. “What? It’s not like I’m dressed up as a sexy rabbit or nurse at the Playboy mansion or something.”

His gaze stayed forward. “Isn’t that what most girls aim for?”

“Some… if you have no imagination. Pssh. Last year, I dressed up as Goku.” Diana and I had gone to one of her friend’s Halloween party. I’d gotten her to dress up as Trunks.

That had him glancing at me. “What’s a Goku?”

Yeah, I had to clutch the sides of the canvas seat below me as I leveled my gaze at his bearded face. “He’s only the second single greatest fighter in Anime history. He was a character on a show called ‘Dragonball’.” I realized I was whispering and ranting at the same time, and coughed. “It was a Japanese cartoon that I love. You’ve never heard of it?”

Those thick eyebrows knit together and one big foot crossed over the other as he stretched out in the poor, poor chair. “It’s a cartoon… with fighters?”

“Intergalactic fighters,” I tried to draw him in, raising an eyebrow. “Like Streetfighter but with a plot. It’s epic.”

Adding the intergalactic part must have been too much because he just shook his big head. “What the hell is an intergalactic fighter?”

“A fighter…” I stared at him and grabbed two pieces of candy, handing him an Airhead because I knew it was vegan. “Here. This might take a while.”

“He has a tail the entire time?” Aiden held the same Blow Pop up against his lip that he’d taken from the jack-o-lantern bucket after polishing off an Airhead. I may or may not have had to force myself not to look at his mouth for more than a second or two at a time. “That seems stupid. Someone could grab it and use it against him.”

The fact that he was thinking strategy over an anime that I was so fond of got me pretty damn excited; I just had to be careful not to let it show on my face. “No, he lost his tail when he grew up,” I explained.

We’d been going on about “Dragonball” for the last hour. In that time, exactly four kids had come up to the house for candy, but I was too busy explaining one of my favorite shows in the world to Mr. I-didn’t-have-a-childhood to really focus in on that.

He blinked as he thought about my explanation. “He lost his tail when he hit puberty?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Why does it matter? It’s genetic. Guys grow hair in places when they hit puberty; he can lose his tail if he wants to lose his tail. You just have to watch it to understand.”

He didn’t look particularly convinced.

“After that, there’s “Dragonball Z” and GT, and those are even better in my opinion.”

“What’s that?”

“The series when they get older. They have kids and then their kids grow up to become better than them.”

His eyebrow twitched and I was fairly certain his mouth did too. “Do you have that on DVD too?”

I smiled. “Maybe.”

He gave me a side-glance, reaching up to scratch at his bearded cheek with his last three fingers. “Maybe I’ll have to watch it.”

“Whenever you want, big guy. My video collection is your video collection.”

I swear he nodded as if he’d actually take me up on my offer.

With a victorious sigh, I turned my attention back to the street to see that it was completely empty. Not a single soul roamed our block or any other block within visual distance. Something tickled at the back of my head, really making me think about the evening, about Aiden coming out to sit with me.

I bit my lips and asked slowly, “That’s probably it for kids today, huh?”

He lifted a shoulder, pulling the lollipop out of his mouth. “Seems like it.”

I got up with the nearly full container of candy and made sure to keep my face down as I collapsed the legs of the chair together. Something clogged my throat. “Kids don’t really go trick-or-treating in this neighborhood, do they?”

Aiden hummed the most obnoxious non-answer in the world.

And I had my answer.

I couldn’t believe it had taken me so long to figure it out.

He had known kids didn’t come out to trick-or-treat in his neighborhood—his freaking gated neighborhood. So he’d come out to keep me company. How about that. How about that.

“Aiden?”

“Huh?”

“Why didn’t you tell me there weren’t little kids here?”