By the time I go back downstairs, I’m showered and shaved and look the part of respectable boyfriend. Miranda’s in her bathing suit, sitting at the side of the pool with her feet dangling in while Jeannie splashes her from the deep end. They have the same personality – a constant smile, easy laugh. It’s not hard to figure out why she’s Miranda’s best friend. They both share that quality. I think I’m figuring out why I fell so hard for Miranda in the first place. It was that – her easy laugh, that generous smile.

“Are you allowed to take that bandage off, Baby?” I ask, coming around the pool.

“Yes,” she groans, lifting her chin up to smile at me, and I bend over and kiss her quickly, promptly getting splashed by Jeannie. I stand up and point at her with a lifted eyebrow – you know, like your parents used to do to you when you teased them. “I’m allowed to take them off on occasion,” Miranda continues, “and my mother already asked me that.”

“Just checkin’,” I tease and make my way over to the table outside, a little surprised to see a bowl of chips and salsa. Did I actually remember to leave a note for the housekeeper to go shopping?

Her mom laughs, probably at my confused expression. “Yes, there’s food in the house now, Alex,” she says easily. “You know those cabinets in the kitchen? That’s what they’re there for. Did you know that?”

And Miranda got the sarcastic gene from her mom apparently. I take a chip and crunch it loudly as I sit down. “I’m not allowed to get picked on in my own house,” I announce, winking before slipping my sunglasses on.

“Too late,” Miranda and her mom answer simultaneously.

“Oh, man…” I laugh with a shake of my head.

“Don’t worry, we mean well,” her mom says warmly. I pull the bowl closer and grab a few more chips. “You have a lovely house, Alex. I don’t think I’d ever leave pool side if I lived here.”

“This is my favorite spot, too, and the entertainment room. I don’t think I’m in the rest of the house much.”

“You’re not in the kitchen, that’s for sure,” she teases. “Where do you eat, Alex?”

I don’t really think about it. “I guess I’m usually out. It would explain why I had so much work to do when we started rehearsals.” I pat my stomach, feeling the hard-earned returned muscle. “If I do eat here, it’s just…I don’t know, something quick, I guess.”

“Are you working tonight?” she asks.

“No, I have the day free.” I actually called in and said ‘off the chain’ – the code words. It’s to let them know that I had a bad night, but doing what I need to do. Under penalty of death, I’m not allowed to abuse the code. It’s the first time I’ve used it, and I think I may have freaked Howie out when I said it, but he covered it pretty good and just said he’d catch up tomorrow. That’s the other part of the deal. I use the code words, and they’re not allowed to grill me about it. I talk when I’m ready, with no pressure.

“You have off?” Miranda asks cheerfully, turning from the pool.

“You’re stuck with me,” I answer with a shrug. “Hope I’m not disrupting some kind of girl ritual or something.”

“You’ll fit right in,” Jeannie says, climbing out of the pool. “I noticed that your nail polish is chipping.”

“The hell it is!” I look down. My nails are fine! Then I realize what I said. “Oh, sorry.” I look over to mom, and she laughs at me.

“Made ya look!” Jeannie teases. “But if you stay, you’re getting your nails done.” She sits down next to Miranda. “What do you think? A nice deep red?”

“Oh, orange!” Miranda cheers. “With a black stripe!”

“And we could color his hair to match!” Jeannie exclaims.

I clear my throat. “Uh, ladies? Am I supposed to be intimidated by that?”

Miranda looks at me, then Jeannie. “He’s right. He might just think it’s cool, and I have to be seen in public with him.”

“It’s edgy,” Jeannie says with a crinkle of her nose and then she gets excited. “Oh! We’ll do yours to match his! Oh! Yes! His and Hers Hair Dye! It’ll start a whole new trend!”

“Pass!” Miranda calls, reaching down to splash her.

“And so will he,” her mom says firmly, winking at me. “Orange…you’d look like Ronald McDonald. Now, a bright shade of blue…”

I wave my hand at her. “Been there, done that. That’s so yesterday.”

“Yeah, Ma, get with it,” Miranda giggles.

This is what I needed, exactly what I needed: light, playful conversation, no deadlines, no meetings, no re-takes, no media…no Nick. I can just sit back, enjoy some good company and hang with the girlfriend I haven’t seen in weeks. Last night is already a distant memory, and I’m gaining my resolve back with each passing minute. All I needed was to hear Miranda laugh.

“Wow, it’s like Thanksgiving on a Tuesday,” I say, feeling my insides expanding as I breathe.

Jeannie giggles and settles across from me on the couch, folding her legs under her. “Mom J can cook,” she agrees. “I forgot how good she was. It’s been a long time since I’ve had dinner with them.”

Mom J is upstairs with Miranda. Poor thing just couldn’t take the headache anymore and wanted to sleep, so her mom went up with her for awhile. ‘Quality time, and all that,’ she’d whispered in my ear before kissing me goodnight. “They seem close,” I say now, looking at the empty doorway.

“Oh, yeah,” Jeannie says with a nod. “They’re closer now that she’s divorced.” Jeannie leans over and whispers with a wink. “Not too pleased about that.”

Hmmm….never considered that trait. Just like Kristin, me thinks Jeannie here might like to gossip a little. “Oh, really? Why?”

She gives me that same kind of excited, pleased look that Kristin gets when she can ‘dish.’ “Andi didn’t talk about it?”

I shake my head. “She’s not into talking all that much about it. It’s over, she’s left it behind and all that.”

“Well, yeah,” she agrees, “she is. But it’s taken a while. And her parents couldn’t be more relieved.”

“So, what happened? She said he cheated on her.”

Jeannie rolls her eyes and settles back into the corner. “Yeah, there’s a shock. Like none of us saw that coming.” All I do is lift an eyebrow curiously. I think she gets the hint and really settles in. Now I’m gonna get the back story. “Has Miranda told you about her family?” I shake my head. “Growing up?”

“Should she have? Am I missing something?”

She laughs. “Not really, no. Both were idyllic. Her college roommate always teased her that she grew up as a moral ‘Stepford.’ Her parents are fabulous, still in love. They all get along.” She tilts her head. “Well, except for the usual family stuff: staying out past curfew, not doing your homework…the stupid family crap. She was in chorus. Got good grades. Went to college and met, what she thought, was Mr. Right. I mean, up until then, her entire life was just a storybook, you know? So, she met this guy as a freshman in college, and they started dating when she was a junior. He was a senior. What else were they supposed to do but get engaged when he graduated and married when she did? It was…the perfect thing. They were considered the perfect couple.”

“So, what happened then?”

“Everyone looking in thought they were the perfect couple,” she clarifies, giving me a direct look. “And she just thought it was what she was supposed to do, you know?”

I can kind of understand that. How many times have we done something we just thought was ‘right’ because that’s what people told us? Cough::Lou::Cough “So, why wasn’t she supposed to, then?”

“Because she wasn’t really in love with him,” she says simply. “She thought so, because she’d never felt like that before, but he wasn’t. You just knew he thought he was getting some kind of trophy wife or something. Someone that was going to stay home and cook dinner because that’s what her mom did. He also thought, I think, there was a lot more money than what there really was. They’re affluent, sure, but they’re not tossing it around at anyone that asks. I think he wanted her to ask for more, and she likes her job. In her mind, there was no reason to ask. She has a degree; she was taught that you work for a living. That, I think, is what really drove them apart. He wanted things to be a lot easier than what they were, and when that whole fairytale of what was supposed to be didn’t happen…she got a little disillusioned. Nothing had ever gone really wrong in her life before. Someone in her yearbook in High School wrote that she just knew Miranda was going to ‘have it all’ and deep down, Miranda thought she would too, and she saw Paul as the ultimate failure. She’ll never have it all anymore, she’s…” Jeannie lowers her voice into a dramatic whisper, “…divorced.”

I scoff at her. She lost me there. Miranda’s hung up on a divorce? I’m frikkin’ twenty-five and already went through re-hab and two engagements! Divorce? Who the hell doesn’t know someone that’s been divorced?

Jeannie shakes her head at me sadly. “I wouldn’t take it so lightly, Alex,” she advises, probably the most serious I’ve seen her since meeting her. “People have a way of learning how to deal with things when they don’t go right. They learn to take the bumps and bruises and move on. She never had a bump or bruise to move on from. She’s the first person in her family to be divorced. She’s the first person in her family to own a home as a single woman. She’s not necessarily proud, but she’s had to learn how to adjust and don’t let her fool you. It hasn’t been all that easy.”

“I kind of figured that out,” I tell her. “She did tell me she hasn’t really dated anyone since, and I get the feeling after staying out last night I may have made her a little nervous.” All she does is nod at me, and I know there’s been a conversation there, but I’m not going to know about that. How do girls decide what they want to talk about and what’s off limits, anyway? “It wasn’t what she was thinking, for the record.”

“I know,” Jeannie says knowingly.

“Is that what all that whispering and giggling was about before?”

“No. Oh, don’t get me wrong, it was about you, but not anything about last night. I know it wasn’t anything last night because I know Miranda, and I think I’m getting to know a little bit about you. For the record, I think Miranda’s finally figured out what it really means to be in love with someone. And if you tell her that, I’ll kill you,” she says with a smile. “And I’m telling you because I don’t think you’re going to run and hide. I just watch you with her and think you’re so damn cute I can’t stand it. The way you look at her doesn’t lie. You weren’t out on a date, or hooking up last night.”

“No, I was out helping a friend.”

She reaches over and pinches my cheek playfully. “Because that’s the kind of guy you are!”

I smile patronizingly at her. “Yeah, that’s the kind of guy I am.”

“I like him,” Mom says, leaning over to me, nudging her shoulder into mine. “You’re right, he’s different…but I like him.” I knew she would. I knew she did once she started teasing him about his hair. Appearances make a difference, but you can’t look at Alex and make any kind of judgment. I think that’s his plan, maybe. You’re not sure what you’re getting until you actually get to look in his eyes while he talking, then the tattoos and piercings and funky hair just, somehow, make sense and don’t matter.

“I knew you would. He’s got a good heart, doesn’t he?”

“Yes, he does,” she says with a nod, sitting on the edge of the bed as I settle into it. I’m already so sick of being like this. “And I like the way he treats you, more importantly. Even with your mom here, he takes care of you. Although I was a little nervous about last night.”

“We’re good, ma,” I interrupt her. “We talked. It’s okay. He was with a friend.” She gives me a look, one of those motherly ‘I’ve heard that before’ type looks. “Honestly…he was. A friend of his is having a lot of problems right now and he needed to be with him.”

“Him,” she says, sounding relieved.

“Even if it was a ‘her’ it would be fine. You said yourself, you like him, that he takes care of me.”

She reaches over and holds my hand. “Obviously, you worked things out. I’m not going to pry.”

“Hey, if I have to trust, you do too.” I point at her, cracking a smile.

“You trust him?”

Do I? I’m scared. I’m nervous. I’m a worried, sometimes. But is that really anything to do with him, or is that me? “I think so?” I answer hesitantly. “I’m putting myself out there to try, and I’m falling for him – hard, does that count for anything?”

“That counts for a lot,” she says, and she leans over to hug me. “Get some rest.”

“Go rescue him from Jeannie telling him every secret I’ve ever shared?” I giggle.

“It’s much too late for that, Andi. We’ve been gone for over five minutes,” she laughs. “My guess, she’s telling him about your menstrual cycle.”

I groan and roll my head into the pillow. “Go stop her!” As she heads to the door, I turn back to face her. “Mom?” She turns. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

“Me too.”

I roll over, barely awake, when I feel someone on the mattress. I think I manage to mumble something, or groan, but I’m too heavy to roll over or even move. It’s dark, and for a second I’m just plain confused until I feel an arm slide over my waist and his body line up with mine. “Shhh, go back to sleep,” he whispers, his voice sounding tired and groggy. It’s enough to wake me up slightly and realize how comfortable I am, how comfortably we fit together. This huge bed, and we manage to lie, basically, in the same spot just to be close, just to be comfortable.

Do I trust him? Yeah, because I’m too tired to analyze anything right now, and my body knows what it needs to rest. I need him, and if I need him, I trust him. I’m out there, alright. No lifeboat, no life preserver, no land in sight, definitely in over my head, and as long as I can feel like this – feel him next to me like this – I’m content. I’m in love and there’s no going back.

“How’s Miranda?” Kevin asks me when I walk into the studio. He’s already stretching out, along with Howie, and I join them on the floor, making a half-hearted attempt. It’s still a little too early for me to be this active. I don’t mind being awake, but active is something completely different.

“She’s good,” I answer, deciding to just, well, sit here. I’ll get around to the stretching in a little bit. “Managing to get around okay. Complains about her headache more than anything, and even that’s not much.”

“And her mom and friend?”

“Great,” I answer with a smile. “They’re great. Mom J cooked one hell of a meal last night for us, and Jeannie might be the second sweetest person on the planet,” I glance to Kevin, “next to Kristin, that is. They’re all a lot of fun.”

Howie looks over to Kevin, suppressing a laugh. “Wow…”

“What?”

“Getting along with the in-laws, eh?” he teases, kicking my foot. “Sounds like it’s going pretty good.”

“For the most part, yeah.” I make an attempt at a stretch, knowing I have to start at some point and it usually wakes me up pretty good. I glance over my shoulder for some reason. I know no one else is coming yet, you’d hear them, but I check anyway. “I’m gonna be real, though; I’m getting concerned about Nicky, fellas. He was pretty out of control the other night.” Kevin keeps quiet and just nods as Howie’s grin fades knowingly. “I know he needs something right now, a friend and all, but I have to admit, it’s more than a little hard for me to keep hanging out at those parties with him and his so-called buddies.”

“Yeah, I sorta noticed that, too,” Howie says with a nod. “Not you, but he seems a little…preoccupied or something, but he’s not talking about it. Trying not to show it.”

“The more he tries, the more it shows,” Kevin agrees quietly. If I think it’s hard on me, it’s got to be a nightmare for him to watch this start all over again with someone else. Does he even have the strength to do this with another one of us?

“And the more we try, the more he covers up,” Howie continues. Then he gives me a look. “He was a little jumpy yesterday when you didn’t show up. I think he kind of had an idea why you weren’t here and felt guilty or something, but again, he didn’t say anything.”

“Look, I haven’t been on this side of it,” I say, again pretending to stretch, but barely making the effort, “so I’m not sure what to do for him. Do you guys think I should keep trying to talk to him, or hang out with him and guide him in a different direction or…”

“Not if it’s gonna wear on you, no,” Kevin answers quickly. “And I think you already know the answer. Did you open up to us when you had the chance? When you had the therapist? Not until he’s ready.”

“But the one thing different between you and Nicky is that you didn’t care when we got pissed off,” Howie says optimistically. “Nicky can’t stand it if anyone’s pissed at him. It eats him alive, so he tries to make things better. He may cave in before it gets too out of hand.”

I don’t have the heart to tell him that, personally, when the rest of them were pissed, I just kept my distance and did more, and Nicky’s doing that with his new friends. He’s not hanging with us unless we invite ourselves. “I guess,” I mumble, but Kevin knows exactly what I’m thinking. He knows the same thing. Hell, so does Howie, probably. “Well, I just thought I’d say something. I stayed out with him all night the other night while Miranda was at my house. I don’t think I made the best choice, but I didn’t see any other one to make. I couldn’t leave him stranded at some party with a bunch of drunks.”

“Why not?” Kevin asks, his tone oddly cold, sounding almost bored, and I’m actually surprised to hear it. “If he’s out of hand, how else is he going to know unless someone lets him know it?”

“Because I wasn’t about to let him get a ride home with some stranger, or someone dumb enough to think they were sober to drive,” I tell him. “I’d do that for anyone. I can be pissed, but I’m not going to let anyone get killed because of it.”

“Ever hear of calling a cab?” he asks me, looking directly at me now, hard and serious.

“I wasn’t going to abandon him, Kev.”

He stands up and does a final stretch. “Maybe he should get used to it,” he mutters angrily and heads across the gym back towards the changing rooms. All I do is look over at Howie, and he’s got the same confused expression I have. That wasn’t Kevin, was it? Maybe I’m more right than I thought I was. Maybe he really doesn’t have the strength to go through this again.

“Wow,” I say quietly, watching him leave and feeling horribly guilty. Lord, give me the strength…

“He talked to Nicky already,” Howie tells me in a lowered voice, “and got nowhere. I think he’s just as scared as the rest of us that it’s all starting all over again. We made a lot of excuses before because we didn’t want to see it, and it lingered on too long. I don’t think Kevin’s going to let there be a lot of excuses this time. He knows how it ends, you know?”

“Too well,” I answer, still looking over my shoulder. “But Nicky’s not me. We can’t treat it like it’s the same damn thing. Nicky needs company. He needs people that actually know him around him. He needs people he can trust around him. Getting pissed off, not having any tolerance isn’t going to make it any better. We’ll just push him aside more.”

“We’ll work it out,” Howie assures me. “Kevin’s just….”

“Yeah.” There’s really nothing to add to that. There’s a lot that Kevin is right now, that much I know. Sad, angry, confused, concerned, worried, caring, frustrated, anxious…. More than anything, he’s going to be careful for a while until he’s got a better grip on what he’s supposed to be doing. Whatever he’s feeling, he’s not giving up. It’s just not in him to do that, especially with Nicky. He drives Kevin batty sometimes, and they never, ever, see eye-to-eye, but he watches out for him closer than he does for any of us – probably because Nick’s always going to be the youngest and always takes everything the hardest.

Damn it, Nicky! You said you learned from my mistakes!

“What’s the plan for tonight?” Kevin asks casually after rehearsal. He’s drying the sweat from his forehead with a towel wrapped around his shoulder, and he gives me and Howie a quick glance. “Anyone want to stop by the house for a while?”

“I gotta meet LeighAnne for dinner,” Brian says, oblivious to the questioning. Unless you say ‘Baylee’ or ‘LeighAnne’ or ‘family’ he’s pretty oblivious to everything.

“Have them meet us over there,” Kevin says, slapping his towel at him and giving him a direct look with a lifted eyebrow. It takes a minute, until Kevin looks from Brian to Nicky and back for Brian to figure out what he means.

“Oh…oh! Yeah, sure, I can do that,” he says.

“Nick?” Kevin calls after him. “You want to come?”

He’s already peeling his shirt off and heading towards the showers. “Uh…nah, I don’t think so,” he hesitates. “I got plans with Rob.”

“We really should go over the schedule,” Kevin suggests. If you can’t get him with pleasure, make it work.

“We already did,” Nicky answers.

“Not just the five of us,” Howie says, following him into the showers. “We really need to talk this whole thing over – just us. Make sure we all agree.”

Again, Nicky hesitates. “Y’all know I’ll agree with whatever you come up with.”

Kevin wipes his hands vigorously over his face under the stream of water from one of the shower heads. “That’s not the plan,” he says, turning around and wetting down his hair. “No one talks for anyone else anymore.”

It’s Nick’s turn to clear his head with some water and he takes a minute under the shower stream. “It’s not gonna be long, is it?” he asks, well, whines, actually.

“The party won’t go anywhere without you,” Brian grumbles, clearly understanding the situation.

“Whatever,” Nick mumbles, turning off the shower. “Fine.” Perpetual fifteen year old, sometimes. I swear all of us got stuck at a certain age. Kevin will forever be ninety, Brian will be twenty-three. I’ll always think Howie’s sixteen in my head, and I’m seventeen – just on the brink of being a responsible adult, but not quite there yet. None of the ages actually match to a single point in time, but that’s just where I think we all got stuck somehow in the messed up space-time continuum or something.

“Ah, think of it as practice for when we’re back on the road together again,” I tease, trying to lighten up the mood. “Stuck in each other’s back pockets.”

“Yeah, can’t wait,” he answers, going to get dressed, towel wrapped around his waist.

Well, we’ve definitely taken Kristin by surprise, but she handles it pretty well. Here she thought she’d be spending a quiet night alone, and we all converge on her, with more on the way. Miranda’s on her way over with her mom and Jeannie, and LeighAnne and Baylee are heading over. It’s sort of becoming a party, but it’s not quite a festive atmosphere. Nicky knows something’s going on, and he’s kept to himself, and quiet, since we arrived, sulking in a corner with a can of pop and a bowl of potato chips. You can almost hear the inside of his head going ‘man, this sucks!’

I’m trying not to warn him that he’d better lose the attitude before Jeannie gets here. I can just imagine what she’s going to do with him if he’s grumpy. Aside from the fact that he might look at her as if she’s got twelve separate heads, she’ll wear him down to smiling and, probably, even enjoying our company. Besides, I don’t think you can really be prepared for someone like Jeannie, even if you’re warned.

“Hello?” Miranda calls into the house. Kevin beats me to her, being closer to the door than I was from out on the patio, but I’m right behind him. He’s giving her a huge hug, and she’s laughing into his shoulder…and wow, what the hell is this? I want to pry them apart and claim her. You're married, dude! Chill out!

“Hey, Baby,” I say, pulling her closer to me and kissing her warmly the second he lets go of her.

Introductions are made, and we all head back to the patio. “Everyone, this is Jeannie and Mom J. Mom J, this is...well, just about everyone.” Kevin and Kristin make proper introductions like the good hosts they are, and I was right, Jeannie’s picked up on a pout in her presence, and it’s just not allowed.

“Now, you’re the cute, energetic one, aren’t you?” she asks, plopping herself down next to Nick, taking him completely by surprise. “Not that anyone could tell by looking at you now!” she teases with a giggle.

“Uh…yeah,” he sort of answers, a little shocked by her, and he forces himself to sit up a bit and extend his hand politely. At least there’s always that. If anything, we’re a polite bunch of geeks.

“I thought so!” she says triumphantly, settling in to make best friends. Seems she does that with everyone she meets. “I have to tell you, I loved your solo album.” Points for Jeannie! That’ll brighten his mood. “Miranda played it for me a few days ago, and I went out and bought my own copy.”

Nicky’s found a friend, so I settle back in my lounge chair with Miranda in front of me and start talking to Kevin who’s currently charcoaling something on the grill. ‘Ah, you add enough barbeque sauce on it…’ is his motto. He just likes to play with fire, I think. We all do, I suppose, if given a chance. I’ve been known to torch more than a few napkins and matchboxes in an ashtray.

“How’d it go today?” Miranda asks, leaning back against me, and I wrap my arms around her waist.

“It’s a lot better now,” I answer quietly in her ear as Kevin talks about the routine and rehearsal.

“Question is, how’re you doing now?” Kevin asks, nodding to her. “You’re looking a little better since we last saw you.”

“I’m a lot better,” she says. “I’ve had some great caretakers these last few days. I can’t imagine what it’s going to be like having to do without them once I’m home alone again. I might go through withdrawal.”

“You can always come by and visit me,” Kristin offers. “They’ll be off in Japan, and I’ll be alone too.”

“That’s not what you were saying this morning,” Kevin teases, looking to me and Miranda. “This morning it was ‘I can’t wait till you go so I don’t have to…’ what did I do that annoyed you so much?”

“Breathe?” Kris offers tilting her head innocently with a laugh. “He has an annoying habit of needing to brush his teeth the second I get into the shower. I get the bathroom all warm, and he comes waltzing in, leaves the door open because I fog up the mirror, and I get the cold air rushing through my nice hot shower.”

“You could wait until I brush my teeth before getting into the shower,” he laughs.

“You could brush your teeth when I’m done,” she answers with a quick shake of her head. “Or at the very least, keep the door closed.”

“And you’d never know that we’ve been together ten years. What a shocking revelation this all is for you,” he continues, winking at her playfully. Now. You know this morning there was no playfulness about it. It might explain why he was so particularly grumpy when we talked about Nicky.

“Why do you have to watch yourself brush, anyway?” she asks curiously.

“It’s Kevin, he always has to watch himself do anything,” I add with my own teasing. “If he could figure out some way to attach a rotating full length mirror to himself, he’d do it.”

“Want me to drop your steak, dude?” he threatens, wagging the tongs at me.

“Is it going to make a difference?” I return, ducking as he pretends to smack me with them.

“Isn’t it funny, though, that the same things that annoy you so much when they’re there are the same things you miss when they’re not?” Mom J says knowingly.

“I don’t miss cold air during my showers,” Kristin giggles. “But I know what you’re saying.”

“You miss Dad?” Miranda asks, brushing her hand down her mother’s arm gently.

“Of course,” she says with a smile. “You love someone thirty years, you miss them when they’re not around.”

“That’s so sweet!” Kris coos.

“Doesn’t take thirty years, though,” Kevin says, rubbing his free hand over Kris’ shoulder. I’m gonna be sick. It’s bad enough with them, but now they have to be cute about it?

Kris stands up from her chair and kisses him, rubbing noses with him over a tender smile. “That’s almost enough to make me miss the cold rush of air.”

“It almost makes me want to puke,” I toss in, getting a knock from Mom J, Miranda and Kris all at once. “What?” I squeal. “I don’t need them slobbering all over the food!”

“Is it going to make a difference?” Kevin asks me, tossing back my own comment as he wraps his arm around Kris’ waist. Joined at the friggin’ waist, aren’t they? And you know what? Silently, I’m jealous of what they have. I miss exactly what it is that they have, and find myself wrapping my arm around Miranda’s waist a little more tightly. It’s the first time in a long time since I’ve had the chance of having something like that. I’m not blind to it. Although, right now, I don’t think Miranda has any habits that annoy me, I’m still going to miss just her presence.

“So, who is she?” Nicky asks me aside as we head inside to get condiments. At first, I just smile at him. “No, really…who the hell is she? She kind of freaks me out, but…”

“You can’t help but like her, right?” I finish for him. “She’s Andi’s best friend from home. She’s been here a few days taking care of Miranda with her mom.”

“It’s not going to work,” he says flatly.

Okay, no… That wasn’t the idea, here. “No,” I answer quickly, automatically on the defense. “She’s leaving tomorrow.” Wow, they are leaving tomorrow.

“Uh huh,” he says, searching through the fridge. “And you just happen to bring her by, right?”

“Yeah! Right! We’re not trying to set you up with her, Nick. I swear.” He just looks at me over his shoulder quickly. Everything we want is in the door, but he’s taking his time finding it. “But you know, there are other people out there like her.” What the hell, if he’s going to think it anyway, I may as well use it to my advantage, right? “You’re just hanging out in the wrong places to find them.” He gives me a glare and sticks his head into the refrigerator to search for ketchup. “No, I don’t mean it like that…”

“Yeah, you do,” he grumbles at me. “I’m not stupid, Alex. I know none of you like my friends or where I’m hanging out. But y’all keep forgetting that I’m only twenty-four, too. I’m not supposed to settle down and be responsible, remember? It’s all y’all kept telling me when I was with her.”

“You’re taking it to the other extreme then, Nicky,” I say gently, hoping he can hear my sincerity and concern, not just a nagging.

“Whatever, dude,” he says, grabbing a few bottles of condiments and brushing right past me. End of conversation.

The doctor has cleared me for the most part. I’m still supposed to take it easy, but the constant headache has eased up, and my swollen ankle and wrist have subsided somewhat. The cuts and bruises are fading. Soon, the only thing that will show I had an accident will be my poor, dented and crunched car, and even that’s in the process of being corrected. Of course, Mom left me a blank check to pay for the insurance deductible and whatever ‘incidentals’ I may need. It’s a huge relief, and since I hardly ever ask for assistance, this time, I take it.

But, I wasn’t kidding yesterday at the barbecue . I’m going to go through withdrawal. As soon as I watched Mom and Jeannie go through security, I missed them. Alex dropped me back off at his place and headed off to work for the afternoon, and now I’m here, wandering around wondering what to do with myself. Still two days more before I have to go back to work. What do I do with myself? Hell, the housekeeper was here while I was gone, I can’t even clean!

But oh, food! I can cook! I can make dinner for me and Alex, set the table out by the pool, put candles around…something special, just the two of us. Thank him for being so thoughtful and attentive and generous. Spend some real quality time with him before he has to jet off around the world. Give him something to miss while he’s gone.

Perfect!

He said he’d be home, and I made sure to tell him that he needed to be alone. I have candles floating in the pool, lined up around the pool and on every surface I could fit one. The food is cooking and just about ready, and I’ve spent the last hour getting myself ready. I’ve shaved, shampooed, showered, done my make-up and attempted to find the perfect outfit to wear – provocative and alluring all without looking as if I'd tried. Yeah, that didn’t happen. But so what? It’s not like it’s really going to matter, and what’s so wrong with looking like I tried to look nice for him?

“Hello?” he calls out from the foyer, and I take one final look at myself in the bedroom mirror. With a single nod, I flick off the light and start downstairs. When he sees me, all he does is widen his eyes and release a low whistle. He comes over to the stairs, reaching out to help me down the last few steps. “Damn!” He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me close to him, kissing me warmly. “You look fabulous.” He touches a curl gently and re-settles it on my shoulder. “You did all this for me?”

“All this isn’t even the beginning,” I answer, slipping my hand into his. “Come with me.” I lead him out to the patio, and he slows down considerably, but stops when we step outside. He wants to say something; I can tell by the way he keeps opening and closing his mouth, but no words come out. I think that’s a good thing. How many people have ever left Alexander McLean speechless? “You sit over here,” I say, tugging his hand slightly. He just keeps looking around, shocked, as I lead him to the table. “I’ll be right back.”

But before I can move, he takes my hand and pulls me back to him, bringing me to sit on his lap. I can’t help but smile at his reaction, and he guides my chin towards him with his knuckle gently to kiss me. “I don’t deserve you,” he says quietly once we part.

“Shhh.” I put a finger over his lips. “I’m not even halfway finished.” I place my forehead against his and smile. “Hungry?”

“If I am, does that mean you have to leave my sight?”

“Just for a second,” I giggle. “It’s all ready. I’ll be right back. Miss me while I’m gone,” I tease, kissing him quickly and making my way inside, feeling his eyes on me with each step I make. For good measure, I un-do one more button of my blouse in the kitchen, pick up the tray and head back outside. I make sure to lean over just a little more than necessary when I put the tray down, and he’s watching exactly what I thought he’d be watching…that one extra open button. “Miss me?”

“You bet,” he says, bringing me back to his lap. His one hand slides along my leg towards the hem of the mini skirt, and his other draws down my spine. I actually get goose bumps with his touch. “What brought all this on?”

“You,” I say, slowly kissing him on several places all over his face . “Just thinking about you all day.” I pull myself back and trace a finger along his jaw. “Now, eat.” I slide off his lap and put a plate in front of him, taking my seat across from him.

He just keeps smiling at me but does as he’s told and starts eating. “You learned how to cook from your mother, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” I admit. “And my grandmother. Years of watching them in the kitchen prepare dinner and being forced to help. We all just kind of picked it up. I take it that it’s good, then?” It’s actually a pretty easy meal: roast chicken and potatoes, and string beans. This way, while the chicken was cooking, I had time to prepare myself.

“Amazing,” he answers. “But that doesn’t surprise me. Everything you do seems to be amazing.” He reaches across the table and takes my hand, continuing to hold it as he takes another bite. “I just can’t get over how great it looks out here. How long did it take you to light all these candles? Hell, how many are there anyway?”

“I lost count,” I admit. “But it set the right mood.”

“It’s like a movie set or something. It doesn’t look like my house.”

“All I did was add candles.”

“And you.” I know I’m actively playing seducer, but even still, I get the feeling that he really means what he’s saying. He’s really flattered by all this! I ask him how rehearsals went, and we finish the meal with light chatter. When I get up to put the plates back on the tray, he brings me back to his lap. “Just leave them,” he says, kissing me again.

“But there’s dessert,” I protest as he kisses my neck, sending shivers down my spine.

“I like this,” he murmurs against my skin, taking my breath away.

“You’ll like dessert even more,” I taunt, forcing myself to pull away from him.

He releases me, a slow, lazy smile on his face. “I can’t imagine how,” he calls after me as I take the tray back inside. I come back out with another tray and set it in front of him, placing myself back on his lap. He peers over my shoulder and lifts an eyebrow curiously. “And what’s for dessert?” I twist slightly and drag my finger through some chocolate pudding, and place it in his mouth, letting him suck my finger delicately. He licks his lips when I slide it back out and grins broadly.

“And? What do you think?” I ask, leaning over for a kiss.

“You tell me,” he says, letting me taste it by licking it off his finger this time. By the time I finish, I can already feel his erection growing and I change my position to straddle him in the chair, brushing myself up against it. “Not bad,” I tell him, leaning back slightly to start unbuttoning my blouse to finally reveal the entire black, lacy bra I’m wearing. “Would you like some more?” I ask, dabbing some pudding in my cleavage.

Without hesitation, his tongue slides along my skin, lapping up the chocolate in slow, delicate licks. Eventually, his hands find the clasp and he frees me from the lace, letting both my shirt and the bra drop to the concrete at our feet. I have pudding dabbed in places that I’m sure would make Bill Cosby blush.

I slide off Alex’s lap and pull his tee shirt over his head, dropping it on top of my blouse so I can kneel on them in front of him. He sits back slightly when my hands reach for his waist, and he wiggles out of his jeans and boxers with my help. It’s his turn to feel how pudding feels on his skin, and I lick it slowly off his dick, sucking on him firmly, eventually not even bothering with the pudding. I feel his fingertips pressing against my shoulders and listen to the raspy gasps of his breath as I suck harder on him. Moments later, he comes with a low, throaty moan of pleasure, and I lick every last drop of him.

Instead of bring me back to his lap when I stand up, though, he slides a hand along the inside of my skirt, keeping me standing in front of him. He’s in for one more surprise when he rises higher between my legs and doesn’t find any barrier. I’m not wearing any panties, and he smiles wide with the discovery. “Had I known that, we may not have gotten through dinner,” he says, hiking my skirt up my hips.

He positions me in front of him, his legs between mine, but he doesn’t let me sit. Instead, he pushes his chair back slightly and brings his hands along the inside of my thighs, caressing the delicate skin so slowly, spreading my legs a little more. It’s a slow tease, making me quiver each time he gets closer to my pussy. Finally, he slides his fingers between my legs, and I inhale sharply with the quick sensation. He slides one of the fingers into his mouth to taste me on him and licks his lips again. “You kick ass at dessert, Baby,” he tells me, watching me physically quiver when he slides his fingers along my pussy again. “Does this feel good?” he asks, his voice deep and seductive.

“Yes,” I answer breathlessly, leaning over slightly to grab the back of his chair for support.

He lifts his head up to suck on one of my nipples, still sliding his fingers along my wetness, and I sincerely doubt I’m going to be able to stand much longer. He sucks harder on me and this time, slides a finger inside my pussy, making me call out. “More?” he asks before turning his attention to my other nipple and sliding another finger inside, filling me more completely, making me shake over him with desire.

He pulls back from me, leaving me standing in front of him, biting my lips together and aching to be touched again. “Don’t stop,” I manage to murmur.

He takes my hand and brings me to his lap. This time, when I lower myself down, I lower myself down onto his new erection. It’s awkward in the chair, but we’re close and confined, forcing us to move slowly together, and I control the rhythm of his thrusts. “You are so fucking amazing,” he whispers breathlessly against my shoulder, holding me tightly against him. “God, I love fucking you,” he continues. “So tight…so fucking wet…” Each time he speaks, I feel myself come closer to orgasm. He leans back slightly and pulls my hair off my face, kissing whatever flesh his mouth gets in contact with – my neck, my jaw, my mouth. “Come for me, Baby,” he whispers, lifting his hips , filling me completely and making me gasp with pleasure. “God, you feel so good,” he tells me, almost grunting it with his thrusts, “come for me. I want to make you come.”

I can’t hold on any longer and arch my back with the explosion of pleasure. He holds on to me, or else I think I’d fall backwards, and he manages to thrust into me more swiftly, biting his lips together. “Oh, God, yes….” He cries out, his hips thrusting against me awkwardly in the confines of the chair. and aching to be touched again. “Don’t stop,” I manage to murmur.

I let myself drop against him, feeling how completely he fills me, unable to move, and not wanting to lose this sensation of completeness. I love the feeling of his quick breaths on my skin, the touch of his fingertips caressing my back, the rise and fall of his chest against mine. Our bodies just fit somehow, and I’ve never experience this kind of connection with anyone until him. We move like one person when we’re intimate. There’s no instruction needed. He just knows my body, and I know his.

“Don’t ever leave me,” I whisper, shocked that I just said that out loud. I didn’t, did I? Oh, dear God, don’t let me have ruined this by getting possessive: too close, too soon. Maybe he didn’t hear me. He doesn’t stop caressing my back and instead of pulling away, he thrusts inside me again, coming closer to me.

“I don’t want to,” he whispers in return before kissing my shoulder, and now I’m crying, like an idiot, holding tightly onto him so he doesn’t see. I am so far over that emotional ledge, totally sensitive both physically and mentally. “I’m not going to.”

Somehow we manage to separate and decide to skinny dip in the pool, but we’re not far from each other's touch. It’s one of the most amazing feelings, his skin against mine under the cool water. It all seems more defined, somehow. I can feel each muscle move against me, hear his breathing more. I sense him more. When I lean against the side of the pool, his fingers touch my breasts so lightly, tease in a way that feels more sensual. Some of the candles are still lit, floating around us, casting a strange shadow on our skin. He’s right, it’s like a movie set, not reality.

“So, I was thinking,” he says, shaking water from his hair. “What do you think about moving in with me?”

“Moving in?” I sputter. Somehow, this takes me completely by surprise. What about my house? What about him? He’s not going to be here…he’s heading out on tour. Move in here alone? Be here while he’s gone?

He’s watching me, those eyes intense and searching. “You make it sound like it’s a stupid idea.”

I touch his face gently and kiss him. “Oh, no…no. I just wasn’t…I haven’t even considered… Wow.”

“You just asked me not to leave.” He kisses my palm before taking my hand back under the water. “We’d get to see each other more.”

“You’re not going to be here. You’re heading off on tour.”

“So? When I come back, then. What’s the difference?”

“I have a house.” And he suddenly looks completely brokenhearted. That was the last thing I wanted to do. Not after everything that just happened. “Baby, no…” I caress the back of his hand with my thumb. “I don’t mean it like that. I’m just…I’m trying to figure everything out in a split second. You’re leaving, I’m staying. This house is so big, and I’m just going to miss you so much, it’ll just feel bigger.” I slip up closer to him, wrapping my leg around him. “How about we do this? When you get back from tour, I move in. This way, I’ll have time to…prepare. Pack.”

“Tell me something, and be honest with me,” he starts, pulling away a little from me. “Is this because you don’t trust me to stay faithful while I’m gone?”

“No!” I answer without hesitation. “Oh, God, no, Alex! It’s because…being here is just too much for me alone. It’s going to take some time for me to go through my house. Figure out what to do with it. Financials…”

“Financials?” he asks, looking at me like I’ve suddenly grown a second head.

“You don’t expect me to move in here and live off of you, do you? I couldn’t do that. Granted, I couldn’t afford to pay half, either, but there’s got to be some way I can contribute that’s fair.”

“I don’t want your money.”

“And I don’t want yours,” I answer with a little laugh. “See? There’re things that need to be worked out, Baby.”

“Miranda, look around you,” he tells me. “Does it look like I need anything from you other than, well, you? Honestly, I won’t take ‘financials’ from you. I just won’t.”

“Then we’ve got a problem.” I lift a shoulder and blink at him. “Because I won’t move in here without contributing.”

“Then…” he pauses for a minute, looking up to the screen covering the pool , “pick a charity.”