Prologue – One Last Chance

“You had one job.”

His voice on the phone was a harsh growl. She swallowed as she refocused the binoculars. She watched them walk out the door with each other, smiling and looking happy.

“And you failed,” he said. “Pathetic, Mackenzie.”

“What was I supposed to do?” she asked, watching him jangle his keys as he walked with her. “Drag him down the aisle? He left me, it wasn't the other way around.”

“When you have a job to do, you do it. It's as simple as that. It's not rocket science. When you can't do the only job that you're given to do, when you're too incompetent to do that, what does that say about you?”

“I don't know, maybe that my ex is too in love with another woman to waste his life away with me?” she asked. She watched them reach the car, and him lean into her and give her a kiss on the lips. “He's happy with her. He wants her. I can't help that.”

“Let me remind you of the terms of our agreement,” he said, growling again. “If I get what I want, your career could find itself booming. If I don't...well, let's just say that the days of Louboutin shoes, vacations to Paris, and covers on Vogue magazine will be over.”

“You can't do this to me,” she responded, feeling tears sting her eyes. “You don't have the pull.”

“Like hell I don't.”

The tears came forth, running down her cheeks, and she put the binoculars down to wipe them away from her cheeks.

“Your mother is sick, isn't she Mackenzie?”

She pursed her lips as she let more tears fall freely, clenching her eyes tightly closed.

“Would be a damn shame if you couldn't afford to keep up with her medicine and doctor's appointments because you couldn't find work.”

“Please don't,” she said.

“Get this job done,” he said. “You have one last chance. There will be no more.”

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“So I'll see you around 4:30, then?”

Lance jangled his keys as they walked together towards their cars.

“You'll come to the station and hang out for the last part of the show?”

“Yeah,” Adeline responded. “That's still the plan, right?”

“Maybe I'll finally get you on the air?” he said.

“Fat chance,” she said, laughing.

“One of these days, Ad,” he said with a smile. “Anyway, then it's dinner with Michael and Monica and Lisa?”

“Looking forward to it.”

He walked her all the way to her car door, where he leaned down to give her a kiss. She was receptive, wrapping her arms around his neck, but he could feel something was different.

“What's wrong?” he asked her. “You've been quiet all morning.”

“And that's odd?” she asked, trying to force a carefree smile.

“For you, yeah. You hardly talked through breakfast. You picked at your lunch. You haven't even insulted me today, and I've given you plenty of chances,” he said, smiling. “What's wrong with you today?”

She looked him in the eyes and brought her hand up to his, resting on her cheek.

“I feel weird again today,” she said quietly.

“Weird how?”

She sighed. “You know how.”

He shook his head. “Not this again.”

She looked away from him, feeling she might start to cry.

“You're paranoid,” he said, trying to turn her head to look at him. “I love you, but you're paranoid. We're not being watched. We're not being followed. You're driving me crazy. You need to drop it, Addy.”

“Sorry that I'm driving you crazy,” she snapped at him, refusing to turn her head.

When she grabbed his hand and pushed it away from her face, he sighed.

“I'm sorry,” he said, grabbing her hand. “I shouldn't have said that. You're not driving me crazy, okay? I just don't like to see you like this, baby. That's all.”

She remained silent, fighting back tears at his words. But he never once let her go, even when she pushed him away from her. When he reached down at her side and caught her off guard by grabbing her ticklish spot, she couldn't stop the smile that played at her lips as she pushed away from him. He maneuvered his head to forcefully look in her eyes, smiling at her.

“Friends again?” he asked her.

She pursed her lips, but he returned a mock pout at her.

“I guess,” she said.

“Kiss and make up?”

She smiled as he brought his lips down to hers. As she wrapped her arms back around his neck, he parted her lips with his tongue, savoring each sweet second he had with her.

“I'm not sure I can just be friends,” he whispered as he pulled away.

“Go to work,” she said forcefully. “You're going to be late.”

“There's my Addy,” he said, and leaned down to give her another peck. “I'll see you at 4:30.”

He walked around the front of his Escalade, jangling his keys again. He pressed the remote on his key ring to unlock the door and the headlights lit up – but he stopped short of opening the door.

“None of this being followed business at dinner tonight, okay?” he said, his face softened this time. “Promise me, Addy.”

“I promise,” she said reluctantly.

“Good,” he said. He stopped to put his sunglasses over his eyes and smiled at her before opening his car door. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

She watched him get in the car and turn the ignition. He pulled out of the drive, giving her another look as he pulled out into the street, and she shifted her car key into her own hand as he drove out of her sight.

She tried to stuff the feelings back down as she put her key in the lock and turned it to unlock her car door, but the gray Cadillac across the street caught her eye as she watched it slowly and quietly pull out right after Lance.

She hated that he didn't believe her – she felt it in her gut. And he couldn't understand.

Chapter 1 – Mine

April 2012 – A year later

“Flash forward and we're taking on the world together...And there's a drawer of my things at your place...”

Adeline rolled her eyes at her own image in the slightly foggy bathroom mirror, looking at the reflection of herself brushing her teeth. The man in the shower singing Taylor Swift at the top of his lungs was on his daily mission to make mornings as miserable as possible – again.

“But we got bills to pay, we got nothin' figured out...”

“You're super annoying,” she said.

He went on singing, completely ignoring her. It had become his morning ritual to sing in the shower every morning in the hopes of getting her annoyed – and it usually worked.

“You made a rebel of a careless man's careful daughter...”

She gritted her teeth and huffed a breath as he continued to hum the rest of the song. As usual, the only way to deal with him was to return his annoyance.

“The water temperature okay there for you, baby?” she said. “Let me help you.”

She reached over to the handle of the toilet and pushed it down, letting it flush. She smiled and giggled in amusement when a couple of seconds after it started, Lance screeched.

“Hot, hot, Addy – hot!” he yelled. “Damn it, woman, you drive me crazy.”

“Why are you messin' with my mind,” she sang as best as she could with her toothbrush stuck in her mouth, mocking his morning ritual.

“Hilarious,” he said, deadpan. “I can't feel the skin on my back now.”

“You've got a couple more layers, it'll be okay,” she said after she spit into the sink. “Are you going to be ready soon? We have to be there in an hour and we probably have to deal with traffic.”

“You can't rush perfection,” he said as he turned off the shower and grabbed a towel, wrapping it around his lower half before stepping out of the shower.

She rolled her eyes and groaned. “I should have kicked you off my doorstep when I had the chance.”

His mouth formed into a long o. “Burn,” he said. “That hurts.”

She leaned into the mirror, running her finger along the corner of her eye to fix some smeared mascara. She was focused on making sure there were no other smeared areas of her makeup when she felt him come up behind her and wrap his arms around her waist. She leaned into him and he nuzzled his face into her cheek.

“And every time I look at you, it's like the first time...” he sang into her ear. “I fell in love with a careless man's careful daughter, she is the best thing that's ever been mine...”

“You're dripping water all over me,” she said, smiling slightly.

“I love you,” he whispered.

The whole morning felt rushed, with her trying to get ready and waiting for him, undressed and still standing here dripping wet. But for a moment, she rested her hand on his arm and enjoyed the affection.

It was bittersweet for both of them; today was the last day of court. The past year had been full of nothing but roadblocks for them. Marc had pulled every trick he could out of his sleeve and delayed the divorce being finalized as long as he could. In the end, she had given up almost everything – the house, her car, and especially her rights to any alimony or spousal support.

It didn't matter to her, and she had given it all up easily, because she only wanted to be done with the process as quickly as possible. She knew if she decided to fight it, it would drag on forever. And between him coming up with new ways to fight her on divisions and canceling multiple court dates, he had managed to make it feel like it already did drag on forever. It didn't escape her that maybe that was his goal all along; to make her miserable and keep her and Lance apart as long as possible, out of spite.

None of it had mattered. They had both agreed in the beginning that no matter what he took from her, and no matter how long he tried, he would never keep them apart as long as they wanted to be together. He could find ways to take away as many meaningless possessions from her as he wanted to, as long as she had shared them with him – but what he couldn't take away from her was her desire to be with Lance.

It didn't last but a few short minutes; he walked away to finish drying off and getting dressed, and she turned her attention back to her makeup and hair. He disappeared into the bedroom as she finished up, and shortly after she had made it to the living room to grab her purse and car keys, he walked in. In the few minutes he had taken to get ready, he had dressed in a gray suit and crisp white shirt, complete with a blue tie.

“Do I look okay?” he asked her.

“You clean up pretty good,” she said with a smile, throwing her purse over her shoulder.

“Was it worth the wait?”

As he stepped up to her near the door, she put her arm around his waist.

“It will always be worth the wait,” she said.

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Addy stepped out of the courthouse and finally into the sunlight, her lawyer on one side of her and Lance on the other, holding onto her hand tightly. She was drained, emotionally and physically. Three hours inside the courthouse had left her cold and tired, but relieved.

She had signed her name to the bottom of a paper for the last time, at least for this case. It had gone exactly like she expected it to – most of the time they spent inside today was waiting around for other people. She would have signed her soul over to the devil today if it meant being done with lawyers and court rooms and her husband.

Finally, he was her ex-husband. She could officially say that she was through with him. A year and a half ago, she had resisted the thought of divorce, thinking only that she wasn't ready to give up and that if it could be saved, she wanted to try. Clear-headed for the first time in the past few years, she now realized that they couldn't have saved it.

She had once blamed it on her miscarriage, that it had put a drift between them that neither of them could overcome. It was only after she looked back on the past five years of her life and realized when her depression and anxiety had escalated over that time that she had been unhappy in the marriage before. The only thing the miscarriage had done to contribute was open her eyes to what little was left. It had set the ball in motion for the events that followed; it was the catalyst for most of the decisions she had made over the past two years.

There would never be a day that she would say it was a blessing in disguise, because she would never call it a blessing in any form. There was no way she could; it was and always would be the worst day of her life. It would never be for the best, despite what any well-meaning person told her. It would never be “in God's plan”. It would never comfort her to hear that she could always try again. She would never get used to hearing about people taking their living children for granted.

But, to some degree, she had come to terms with it enough to realize that she was a new person because of it – and even if she didn't like the situation that had brought her here, she liked the new person.

She smiled and sighed deeply, feeling the sun on her face as her lawyer turned to her.

“I guess my work here is done,” he said with a smile.

“It sure is,” she said. “You won't be offended if I say I'm glad I'll never have to see your face again, right Brian?”

Brian Elliot was a young man, around Lance's age, that she had become well-accustomed to over the past year. Too well-accustomed – they were on a first name basis because it got tired calling each other “Mr. Elliot” and “Miss James” week after week. She had visited his law office so many times that sometimes it felt more like home than her own rented apartment.

He smiled. “Of course not. I'm glad it's over for you, Adeline. I wish it hadn't been such a long process.”

“I wouldn't say it was your fault,” Lance said. She turned to look at him and noticed him looking to his left – at the other side of the steps stood Marc with his lawyer, a much older man. “Or that you could have controlled it.”

“He is persistent, isn't he?” Brian said, and she smiled at the slight distaste she picked up in his voice.

“With Marc, it's always been about what he wants,” she said. “And when he wants something, he gets it.”

“Well he succeeded in taking everything from you that he wanted,” Lance said with a sigh.

She noticed that he looked at Marc carefully. The process hadn't been easy for him either. He had been there for her every step of the way, coming to court with her whenever he was able. She couldn't imagine what he had felt the first time he had set foot in the same room with Marc, since he had never been before it all started. Marc looked down upon him with disgust, not only because he was the new man in her life, but because of his career. Lance himself didn't exactly look upon Marc with admiration.

“He didn't take any of that from me, I gave it to him,” she said, squeezing his hand reassuringly. “The only thing I refused to give him is the one thing he can't take away from me.”

She succeeded in taking away his attention, him looking at her and smiling.

“No matter how hard he tries,” she continued.

“I still don't like it,” Lance said. “It feels like you should have gotten something out of it, for the year that he made our lives miserable.”

“He gave me something,” she said, finally turning to look at her now ex-husband, who was smiling and chumming with his lawyer. “He gave me the desire to never want to be with him again. And that's probably the most valuable thing I could take out of this marriage.”

Brian gathered his briefcase and said his goodbyes before leaving the two of them on the steps alone. They were about to leave themselves when she felt a presence behind her and she turned around swiftly.

“Are you happy that you got what you wanted?” Marc said, squinting against the sun.

“Happy that I'm away from you? Yes,” she said. “I am.”

She felt Lance squeeze her hand protectively and slightly pull him towards her. She could tell that he didn't like it at all. He had kept his own opinion out of the proceedings for the most part, recognizing that it was neither his business nor did it benefit her for him to get involved.

“It's always a good day for Addy when she wrecks a family, isn't it?” he said with a smug smile.

“Oh, I wrecked our family, did I?” she asked. “Exactly how many women did you sleep with on the side in five years, Marc?”

“I told you Adeline, those were friends,” he said. “I didn't sleep with anyone until I found out that you were whoring yourself out to half of the teen pop unemployment line.”

“Sticking with that story still,” she said, blatantly ignoring Marc's insult towards Lance. She felt him tense up and knew that it bothered him.

“It's the truth,” he said. “Something you wouldn't know anything about.”

“You had me followed, Marc,” she said. “For months. You should be the last person talking about truth.”

“I had a gut feeling about you, Addy. I had a right to keep tabs on what was rightfully mine.”

“I was never yours,” she said. “I'm not an object that can be owned.”

“That's right,” he said. “A whore can't be owned; only borrowed before she's handed off to the next man who's willing to pay for her.”

She felt a firm hand grab her from the back of her arm and pull her backwards. All of a sudden Lance stepped in front of her, pushing her behind him.

“I think you're done here, right? Why don't you move along and get back to your own business, Marc,” he said. She was slightly shocked that Lance held his head high, looking Marc straight in the eyes.

“Funny coming from a man who can't seem to mind his own business,” Marc said, that same grin on his face.

“You know what's even funnier?” Lance said lowly, matching his grin. “She is my business now.”

She watched, holding her breath as the two men stared at each other. Both smiled at each other, but you could cut the tension in the space they occupied outside the steps with a knife. Testosterone was on a complete overload, and she only hoped that neither man decided to throw a punch and cause a scene.

They remained staring at each other, but Addy's eyes moved to Marc's lawyer, who was walking up behind him. He reached up and grabbed Marc's shoulder, and she could tell by the way his eyes changed that he felt the hand on his shoulder but he didn't move his gaze from Lance.

“Marcus,” the lawyer said. “Come with me. I have some papers back at my office you need to sign. You can ride with me and then I'll bring you back to your car.”

Marc stood stone-cold and silent, his lawyer's hand still on his shoulder for several seconds. Lance, no longer grinning, stood his ground in front of him, his head held high. She was taken back when Marc's smile widened and he chuckled.

“Have a nice life together,” he said, looking Lance directly in the eye, “pop star.”

His exaggerated pronunciation that caused the smack of his lips when he said “pop” made her jump, and it was only then that she released the breath she had been holding in. Her grip on Lance's arm tightened as he turned and walked away, his lawyer in tow, all the way down the steps of the courthouse. Lance's eyes never broke away from Marc, even as he shifted his body.

“Come on,” he said as he grabbed her hand tightly. “Let's leave before he decides to come back and break my nose.”

“That was...amazing,” she said as he led her off.

“Don't be too amazed,” he said. “I may have looked tough, but that guy scares the hell out of me.”

They walked completely silently all the way down the steps, both of them only slowing down and relaxing when they were sure they were several feet in the opposite direction of Marc. She jangled the keys as they walked toward her car in the empty parking garage, and when she looked up and saw the yellow car a few parking spaces from theirs, she let a smile creep across her face.

“Hey Lance, you see that car over there?” she asked him, pointing directly in front of her.

“The yellow Jaguar?” he asked.

“Yep.”

She walked ahead of him and over to the car, running a finger over the smooth surface of the back.

“This is his car,” she said. “Isn't it a beauty?”

“Sure is.” Typical of a guy, she watched his eyes travel over the surface of the car as if he was looking at a busty woman. Even though he hated Marc, it was a car that attracted a man's eyes to it. “What year is this?”

“2012,” she said. “Just bought it, I hear.”

He whistled. “Nice,” he said.

“Yep.”

She shifted the keys in her hand as she walked to the driver's side of the car. The next thing he knew, he heard a loud screech noise and looked up to see her scratching the car with a key from the fuel tank door to the rearview mirror.

She turned and smiled at him.

“Oops,” she said.

His eyes had widened, but the smile on his face was huge.

“Do you realize you destroyed the paint job on a hundred thousand dollar car?” he asked.

“A little gift for calling you an unemployed teen pop star...and me a whore,” she said.

“God, I love you,” he said in awe as she walked away towards her car.

Chapter 2 – Everything Has Changed

“The wine was a bad, bad idea,” Adeline said as she took another sip of it from her glass.

“It's been a long day,” Lance said with a smile. “You needed to relax.”

“Mission accomplished,” she said, setting the glass down on the concrete behind her. “I definitely feel relaxed.”

After the stressful day at court, he had convinced her to spend some time in the complex's hot tub, outside along with the swimming pool. It was already dark, the only light coming from the pool lights and what little street light shined on them. They were completely alone, with almost everyone else in bed or inside their own apartments, not willing to brave the chilly April air for a dip.

She leaned into him, nuzzling the back of her head into his chest. He rubbed up and down both of her arms softly with his hands, making sure she stayed relaxed.

“I'll miss this hot tub when we move back to New York,” she said, enjoying his treatment.

“Maybe we should look into getting one of our own,” he said.

“And put it where?” she said with a chuckle. “There's no space for a hot tub in either of our apartments.”

“I don't know,” he said lazily. “Maybe we should look into buying a house first.”

“For just the two of us?” she asked. “Seems a little silly to me.”

She expected a comeback, but he stayed quiet like he had been most of the night, only lifting his own wine glass to his lips.

“I can't believe it's finally over,” she said, putting her hand through his. “I'm finally rid of him. I can move on with my life now – I hardly know how to, but yet I know exactly how I want to.”

“And how's that?” he asked.

She looked up at him and smiled. “Dress shopping. Picking out colors. Setting a final date.”

He only chuckled at her.

“I know it was me who wanted to wait at least a year after the divorce to get married,” she said. “And I know that you agreed it's best because it's too soon after the divorce – but it feels so unfair. We've been waiting for this a long time already.”

He nodded in agreement as he took another drink.

“We've been together over a year and I haven't even been divorced twenty-four hours yet. It's like we have to restart the clock all over again.”

“We don't have to,” he said. “We haven't hidden the fact that we were together after you filed for divorce, just before. And we can thank him for bringing those pictures of us into the divorce proceedings – I'm sure it won't be long before he goes to the media about that and it comes out anyway. If you want to move the wedding up a few months, we can do that.”

The thought of waiting until May of the year following to get married tortured her – but the idea of moving it up any sooner brought mixed feelings.

“I just don't want it to look like I couldn't wait to get away from my husband,” she said.

“Even though you couldn't, right?” he asked with a smile.

“Of course I couldn't,” she said, returning the smile. “But I don't want it to be distasteful. Media is already talking, they've seen my engagement ring – you have a reputation to look out for, and apparently so do I now.”

Stories about the divorce had been making news for months, of course because of Marc's success in his career and in Hollywood. She had gone from nobody important to a fairly well-known name in very little time and somehow, Lance always landed in the middle of it. Even before they decided to steer into the skid and allowed themselves to be photographed holding hands last summer, his name had come up in the articles because she worked for him. Her and Lance had been news for about a week after a photographer from TMZ had taken the infamous picture, until a new story came along that was more exciting.

But there was still talk about them and she had become a pseudo-celebrity for a different reason now – because she was the girlfriend. Rumors had circled since then, remaining low on the radar until a photographer had noticed the ring on her finger. She had heard everything from the obvious story that she had gotten pregnant from a one-night stand with him, to ridiculous theories that she was a polygamist – for which she had Perez to thank.

Each one was sillier than the last and Lance had dispelled all of them on his radio show, but people still talked about them. Anytime she realized a photographer had caught her, she wondered what they had taken photos of and how they would use them to make up a new story. She had learned to stay away from certain places – the pregnancy test aisle at the drug store, the maternity clothing section, and baby stores, which had caused issues a few months ago when a friend of Lance's had a baby and she had to send a gift on his behalf. They still managed to get plenty of shots – and how they took a picture of her buying milk at the grocery store and turned it into a web of lies still mesmerized her.

The process made her appreciate what Lance went through more, as a celebrity. She couldn't go anywhere anymore without wondering if she would end up on an article or blog the next day. He told her to ignore every single story, even to stop checking the websites and magazines to keep up on possible bad PR, but she couldn't help herself. During her marriage, she had stayed away from the spotlight for a reason, and now she was realizing how good of a decision that was.

“I don't want to jeopardize any of that,” she said to him.

“Then we can wait,” he said with a shrug. “I'll do whatever you want – if you want to move the wedding up a few months, we can do that. I don't care; whatever makes you happy.”

“You know what makes me happy?” she asked as she shifted her body around to face him.

“What?”

“You.” She sat in his lap, straddling him as he sat on the ledge of the hot tub and wrapped her arms around his neck. “That's all I want – you.”

She leaned down to place her lips on his softly, and all at once the rush of the day took her over. The wine, the lighting, the warmth of the water – the freedom.

“Let's go upstairs,” she whispered.

She was sure they looked like two teenagers while they climbed out of the hot tub as fast as their bodies could carry them – him slipping against the smooth surface of the bottom and her giggling as she grabbed his hand to give him leverage to push himself out. Dripping wet, they grabbed their towels and haphazardly wrapped them around their bodies as they headed up the stairs, not stopping to dry themselves off.

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“I think...we just need to...lay here...”

“Yeah,” she whispered, her head resting on his chest as he ran his fingers lazily along her spine. They were both short of breath and covered in a slight sheen of sweat, but she relished these moments.

It took them a few minutes to catch their breath. When she moved to his side, Lance pulled her to him, their limbs tangled up together with the sheets.

“Did you mean it?” he asked after she wrapped her arm around him, her hand moving up to run up through his hair from the nape of his neck.

“Mean what?” she asked.

“That I make you happy.”

“Of course,” she said with a smile.

She could tell, even in the near dark, that he had something on his mind. Before she could say anything, he leaned in to kiss her.

“You know what would make me happy?” he asked.

“What?”

“Let's have a baby,” he whispered against her mouth.

She disconnected from him for a moment, but not out of shock. She might have been shocked – if this had been the first time he asked.

“No,” she said firmly.

She grabbed a loose sheet from the bed and wrapped it around herself to get up, walking towards the dresser for clothes. He leaned up and sighed.

“We can at least try, Addy.”

“You know this is always a no, Lance,” she said, shaking her head.

“Yeah, I know,” he said, sounding discouraged. “What I don't know is why it's always a no.”

“No, you wouldn't, would you?” she asked as she grabbed an old t-shirt and shorts to put on.

“I know what the doctors told you.”

She froze mid-air, hoping it wasn't too noticeable to him in the dark. The fact was, he didn't know everything. Like most women, there were things she still held tightly to her heart and didn't let go to him, even though she loved him.

“But we're still young,” he said. “We have a couple of years to spare, for the sake of trying. I want to try before we jump right into adoption.”

She knew it would come up eventually. In fact, she had told him that once he became more comfortable in their relationship, his feelings on having children would change. And it had taken only a few months to get to that point.

What she hadn't known was that, somewhere along their path, there would be a breakdown in communication that made him think she said one thing – when she meant another.

“I can't talk about this right now,” she said. She adjusted the shirt she had pulled over her body and turned on her heels, walking right out of the bedroom door.

He rolled his eyes and let his head fall back to the pillow, sighing.

“As stubborn as the day is long,” he whispered to himself before throwing the covers back.

When she reached the living room, she hastily sat down on the couch and grabbed the closest thing she could to occupy her hands – the knitting needles connected to a half-done project she had been working on. Her therapist had thought it beneficial for her to pick the hobby back up, and she found it helpful when she was distressed – like she was now, almost in tears.

As she threw the yarn over the needle and brought it through the first stitch, she contemplated her first mistake – not telling him the truth all along. When she had told him about her history, she never assumed he would think she was incapable of getting pregnant. It took her months to realize it, until one morning he caught her off-guard.

“Why do you take those?” he asked one morning after brushing his teeth, watching her pop a birth control pill out of the little disk.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Well, you can't get pregnant.”

She had frozen in place for a few seconds while it sank in what he meant.

“Why do you take birth control if you can't get pregnant anyway?” he asked.

When she realized that they were in two different mindsets, fear had taken over and she didn't have the courage to tell him that he had misunderstood her.

“It uh...it levels things out,” she muttered as she put the pill in her mouth and swallowed it with a glass of water quickly.

“Levels things out?” he asked, confused.

She smiled through her panic. “That's the womanly way of saying that it keeps my periods regular.”

He immediately threw his hands up and turned.

“Too much,” he said as he walked out of the bathroom. “Sorry I asked.”

And now, she simply couldn't tell him. She couldn't tell him the real reason she took birth control; that the fear of getting pregnant again and repeating history kept her from entertaining the idea of trying to have another baby. He wanted to hang onto the idea that even if it failed to give them a result, trying couldn't hurt – when she knew better.

“Uh oh,” he said as he entered the room and saw her working. “I struck a nerve.”

“I don't want to talk about it,” she said.

“We don't have to,” he said, walking over next to her. “I surrender, okay? It's not my place to push you into a big decision like this, even if I want it. I'll stop.”

“You don't surrender,” she said with a scoff. “You don't know the meaning of the word. In fact, you don't even own a white flag – physical or metaphorical.”

“That's why I brought this with me.”

She looked up to see him holding one of her clean white t-shirts, dangling it from his finger. She snatched the shirt from his hand, not knowing whether she wanted to tear up or laugh – but she started to do both at the same time. He sat down next to her, throwing his arm over the couch around her shoulder.

“I'm here, ready to talk about it whenever,” he said. “Even if you only want to tell me why the answer is and always will be a firm 'no'. You're stubborn, but I can out-wait you – I have before.”

“Unfortunately,” she said with a chuckle, wiping away a tear. Then she groaned as her therapist came to mind. “I guess a trip to Dr. Little is in order for this week, huh?”

“Yeah, it sounds like that would be a good idea,” he said. He picked up the fabric hanging from the needles in her lap. “What is this supposed to be anyway?”

“If you keep pissing me off, it will be a scarf before winter,” she said with a smile.

“As long as you don't use it to strangle me when you're done,” he said with a laugh before kissing her on her cheek.

Chapter 3 – A Little Push

New York – A month later

Adeline grimaced as she carried the heavy box from one side of the living room to the other and sat it down on the couch. She ripped the tape off the box and opened the flaps, revealing a mess of balled-up brown paper protecting breakables from her old living room.

She and Lance had managed to get all their boxes moved in the past few days since they had arrived from California, but his job at the radio station had taken him away for the afternoon, leaving her alone. Not wanting her to undertake a daunting job alone, Joey and Chris had kindly offered to come help her, especially with the heaviest boxes.

“Need help, Addy?” Joey asked, poised and ready.

“I think I got this Joe,” she said, then turned and pointed to a stack of boxes that Lance had piled near the kitchen. “But that box on top of that pile is full of my Nana's old dishes and stuff and it's really heavy. Do you think you can carry that into the kitchen and put it on the counter for me?”

“Sure thing.”

He walked over to the pile and grabbing the top box, he groaned as he lifted the box into his arms with one swift move.

“I love a big, strong man,” Addy said with a smile and a playful look towards him, which made him smile.

“Do I have to prove my sexual prowess to you too, Ad?” Chris said. He lifted his arm up in a strong-man flex. “Anything he can do, I can do better.”

“Hey,” Joey exclaimed, looking back at him while walking towards the kitchen with the box.

“Sorry boys, Lance is the only guy who does it for me,” she said. “No need to fight; you'll both lose.”

“Build us up just to tear us down,” Chris said, shaking his head and leaning down to lift a box.

She shook her head and chuckled and continued to unpack the box in front of her. Out of all the rest of the guys, Chris and Joey were definitely her best friends. She had been nervous to meet the other three men back in October of last year, when they had been invited to go to Florida for Chris's 40th birthday party. She had only ever spent time around Joey, because it was rare that all five of them ever got together as a group anymore. She had heard that since they had disbanded, there had been grievances and tension between them.

If that were the case, none of them showed it once they arrived at the party. Lance had immediately smiled when he saw his bandmates, slapping their hands and bumping fists as he would old friends. He had introduced her to them as his fiancee, as if he was proud of it – which shouldn't have surprised her, but being public about their relationship was something she had still been getting used to at the time.

“Fiancee,” Justin had said. “I didn't even know you were getting married! I thought those were just rumors.”

“That's because you don't pay any attention,” Chris had told him. “If it doesn't have 'Justin Timberlake' written all over it, it flies straight over your head.”

“Oh yeah?” Justin had replied. “Everything flies straight over your head, 'cause you're so short, Tricky!”

“You think that's funny?” Chris had asked.

When Justin nodded assuredly, Chris had dove after him, first grabbing his arm then wrapping another around Justin's neck in a headlock. It had made Addy uncomfortable and she was about to move between the two of them to break apart the fight until Lance had stopped her.

“They're just messing around with each other,” he said while laughing. “They fight like this all the time.”

“My money's on Chris this time,” JC said. “He looks like he's been working out those biceps.”

Justin had caved when he could barely breathe, both from Chris's grip on his head and from laughing. They had a truce over a drink and a toast to Chris for his birthday, and from then she had realized exactly how close Lance was to these four – and she had bonded with them that night too. She had danced with all of them through the night and they treated her like she had been a part of the group forever, not an outsider. It was a crazy, wild night, and she could say that she had never had so much fun partying and was looking forward to more of it.

Since then, they had met with JC for dinner in LA a few times, and Chris had recently moved from Florida to New York for a change of scenery, so she was seeing them a lot more often. Justin was busy doing movies and playing around in the studio with new music, but she had a feeling that she would eventually see a lot more of him. From the camaraderie she had experienced, she had a feeling that she would see more of all of them eventually.

“Where's this one go, Addy?” Chris asked, breaking her out of her thoughts. She looked up and he was standing next to her, holding another box.

“Looks like the bedroom,” she responded, thinking it was full of her clothes. “You can set it on Lance's dresser.”

“Is it your underwear?” Chris asked. “Is it naughty things? Can I take a peek?”

She swatted his hand away when he tried to pop open a flap on the box enough to take a peek through, and he smiled.

“Oh Christopher,” she said with a sigh and a smile as he walked towards her bedroom.

Joey walked up to her as Chris had disappeared through the hallway.

“You know he's going to look anyway, don't you?” he asked.

“Let him,” she said with a smile. “I figured he would – and that's why I put a pair of Lance's boxers on top.”

Joey laughed as he grabbed another box to move it to another room and she went back to unpacking her own box.

“Oh, gross,” they heard coming muffled from the hallway a few seconds later.

After only a couple of hours of unpacking and reorganizing without a break, Addy felt she couldn't go on anymore and told both boys they could go home. Joey grabbed his car keys without an argument, but as she was walking to the door and saying her goodbyes to him, Addy noticed that Chris was hanging around the living room aimlessly.

“You're not going home, Chris?” she asked as she walked back.

“I don't know,” he said with a shrug, wandering around with his hands in his pockets. “There's nothing to do there. I was wondering if...well, if you wouldn't mind me hanging out here for a bit.”

“Well...sure,” she said, admittedly slightly confused. “Mi casa es su casa, I suppose. Or, Lance's casa, technically.”

Chris didn't smile or nod, or make any acknowledgment that he had even heard her.

“You want a beer or something?” she asked, wandering towards the kitchen.

“Lance's beer es...um...oh hell, forget it,” he said, following her. “I'd love a beer, Addy.”

She chuckled as she opened the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of beer for him and a juice for herself.

“Everything okay with you, Chris?” she asked as she handed him the beer and sat down next to him at the kitchen table. “You look like you have something bothering you.”

“Nothing really,” he said. “Just...women suck, Addy.”

“Present company excluded, I hope,” she said with a laugh.

He popped the cap off his bottle, causing a slight whoosh of pressure.

“You don't suck, but you're dating Lance,” he said. “Lucky ass Lance, snapping up the one woman in New York who is decent.”

“What's wrong, Chris?” Addy asked, more sympathetically.

“I'm forty years old and hopelessly single,” he said. “Every woman that I date is only interested in my money or my fame.”

“What about that one girl you went out with?” she asked. “What was her name? Bri something?”

“Bridget,” he finished. “Yeah, let's talk about Bridget for a minute – first of all, for the first twenty minutes, she couldn't stop talking about how she was so amazed that she was on a date with the Chris Kirkpatrick.”

“That's not so bad, is it?”

“Then for the next hour she couldn't stop talking at all,” he said, narrowing his eyes at her. “I thought she was going to choke on her dinner because she couldn't take a breath.”

“I'm sorry, Chris,” she said, grinning through her wincing. “I assume the rest of the night didn't go any better?”

“It ended before it started,” he said with a sigh. “What's wrong with me, Ad?”

“Why do you think something's wrong with you?” she asked. “You had one or two bad dates – that's not your fault.”

“It's not just one or two bad dates – it's twenty years of bad dates. Twenty years of bad relationships. I'm tired of these women using me, or acting like I'm something special because I'm Chris from NSYNC, oh my god,” he said, slightly mocking a teenage fan. “I want one of them to see past that, see me for who I really am.” He paused to take a drink of his beer, sighing as it slid down his throat. “Jesus, I sound like JC now.”

She chuckled.

“I don't know – it seems like the other guys have had an easier time with women, you know? Joey married Kelly, his high school sweetheart. Justin had Britney...”

“Yeah, because that ended so well for him, didn't it?” she asked.

“Well, that's a good point,” he said. “But still. Look at you and Lance.”

“That was luck,” she said. “Lance wasn't looking for me, I sort of...fell into his lap.”

“I'd make a joke, but that'd be rude since I'm in your house,” he said, the slightest of smiles on his face. “I'm not in the mood anyway.”

She smiled, and reached out to rub his arm.

“You'll find someone great, Chris,” she said. “I promise. It takes time. For all you know, she's right around the corner.”

“Yeah,” he said, then paused to take another swig from his bottle. “You know what I need to do?”

“What's that?”

“Take a page from Lance's book and hire a hot assistant,” he said, and she laughed.

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After a nice talk that lasted a few minutes and finishing his beer, Chris excused himself to go home. She had rested a few more minutes while contemplating Chris's dating troubles, and after she had finished her juice she had gained her energy back and decided to work on a few more boxes.

She finished unpacking a whole box of glass and porcelain in the kitchen and tore down the box, throwing the flat piece on the floor on top of the pile of others in the living room. She decided to move to another room for a change of scenery, and walked into the bedroom where there were still a few things left to unpack.

Even though it was daylight, she turned on the light out of habit. She grabbed the first box she saw and lifted it up to the bed, pulling the tape off it and opening the flaps. It was a box of photo albums and picture frames they had acquired while they were in Los Angeles.

She took a moment to look through each of the albums before she put them aside. She thought it was amazing the amount of pictures they had acquired in only a year. Lance was big on taking photos, whether it was with a camera or his phone – they had even more in each of their phones. She had managed to print most of them and fill up one album to give him last November for their one-year anniversary. Even since then, they had taken enough to start filling up another.

The first picture frame she took out of the box and unwrapped from its bubble packing made her smile. With her divorce and his new job at the radio station, they didn't have a lot of time to get away while they were living in Los Angeles. The one week they had the opportunity to take a break, he had convinced her to run off to Hawaii for a week.

She didn't care if he had forced her to take the photos, or if she had felt uncomfortable in her bikini that she thought showed off way too much, or if he had insisted on taking a hundred goofy photos before he finally took one serious picture; that one picture was her favorite. It always would be.

“Excuse me?”

Adeline was so lost in the happy memories that the photo brought back she hadn't even noticed that someone had walked up to her bedroom doorway. She jumped and the picture frame flew out of her hand and fell to the floor.

“I'm so sorry!” the woman in the doorway said, laughing slightly. “I didn't mean to scare you, I just...well, I'm your neighbor. You know, from across the hall?”

The woman looked at Adeline and paused.

“Well anyway,” she continued, “I walked out of my apartment and saw that your door was open a crack. I didn't know if you were gone or you left it open and you didn't know. I didn't want anybody to come into your house without you knowing. But then I guess that's exactly what I did, so...yeah.”

“Oh,” Adeline said, catching her breath as her heart started beating again. “Lance probably didn't close the door hard enough and it came unlatched again.”

She walked past the strange woman into their living room and back to the entryway. She wasn't shocked to find that the woman was right; the door was open a crack, as if the mechanism didn't catch when it was closed.

She shut the door and made sure it was latched as the woman came around the corner holding the picture frame she had dropped.

“Is this him?” she asked as she looked at the picture. “Is this Lance?”

“Yeah, that's him,” Adeline answered. “The man who knows the door doesn't latch well anymore and yet, he still can't seem to remember to close it hard enough.”

She chuckled. “Your husband?”

“My fiance,” Adeline answered.

“Eh, close enough,” the woman answered, handing her the picture frame. Then she held her hand out to Adeline. “I'm Melissa.”

“Adeline.” She shook Melissa's hand. “You can call me Addy.”

“It's nice to meet you,” Melissa said with a smile. “Did you guys just move in? I saw you come in a week or two ago, moving in boxes. It was strange, I had a lot more boxes when I moved in. If this all came in with you when you moved, you're damn good at packing.”

“Not even close,” Adeline said with a chuckle. “We've lived here for a while.”

“Really? I moved in a couple months ago but I haven't seen you around.”

“Oh, we've lived here a while but we've been living in Los Angeles for a year. On...business.”

She smiled at her barely-known guest and walked over to the bookshelf, placing the frame upright next to all the books she had unpacked, displaying it proudly.

“What work does Lance do?”

Adeline was surprised. It wasn't everyday that she came across someone who didn't know who Lance was. She wondered if her neighbor was simply pretending to be polite, because that wasn't unusual.

“He's an entertainer,” Adeline responded. “Actually, we both work in the entertainment industry. I'm his fiance and his assistant. Both are equally difficult jobs.”

Melissa laughed. “Men, am I right?”

“Would you like to sit down for some coffee, Melissa?”

“Oh, I don't want to disturb you in the middle of your unpacking,” she responded.

“Please,” Adeline said. “I beg of you to disturb me. I could use another break.”

“Well, in that case, call me Mel – and I'd love to,” Melissa said with a smile.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I can't believe I didn't realize it sooner,” Melissa said, looking through the photo albums Adeline had unpacked. “Honestly, Addy – you must think I'm so dense.”

“Actually,” Adeline said, “it's kind of refreshing to find someone who doesn't recognize us right off the bat. I feel so exposed because of the divorce. I'm a behind-the-scenes person so I'm not used to it.”

“I don't have the time to pay attention to that kind of stuff,” Melissa said. Then she smiled. “Okay, that's a complete lie. I'm a TMZ junkie. I knew you right away. I didn't want to be uncouth.”

Adeline laughed. “I had a feeling.”

“I'm a dork. I know it and I own it – most of the time anyway.”

They had been talking for over an hour on the living room couch, and they had already gone through a full pot of coffee and many topics of conversation. She normally didn't welcome strangers into their house, but she had loved the opportunity to get to know Melissa.

She was a thirty year old transplant to New York from Arkansas. She had moved a few months ago, looking for a change after an unhappy relationship. She had been an accountant in her previous life, but now that she was starting a new life, she was going back to culinary school for a career change.

“He's cute,” Melissa said, looking at a picture of Lance.

“Should I worry?” Adeline said.

“Not my type, sweetheart. I'm into darker, scruffier and more meat on the bones,” Melissa said. “Does he have any friends that fit that description?”

“Actually, he sort of does,” Adeline said, thinking of Chris immediately. “But...I don't know if you could handle him.”

“Should I worry now?”

“Probably,” Adeline said with a chuckle.

Melissa turned the page in the album and fixated on another picture of Adeline and Lance, a different picture from their trip to Hawaii.

“Was he the reason you decided to divorce your husband?”

Adeline was a bit shocked at the question.

“He wasn't the only reason,” she responded.

Melissa smiled, but didn't look up at Adeline. “But from the looks of it, he was great motivation. He looks like a sweet guy.”

Addy was about to respond, but she heard the door open.

“Oh Addy,” he yelled, announcing his arrival. “Daddy's home...”

“Looks can be deceiving,” Addy said, looking at Mel.

Both women heard him throw his bag on the floor and step through the living room, yelling the entire time, assuming she was home alone.

“Time to get n--”

As he stepped into the kitchen, they both turned to look at him, grinning.

“Uh – hi?” he said as he looked at Melissa.

“Lance, meet our new neighbor – Melissa,” Addy said, smiling. “Melissa, meet my fiance, Lance – first impressions aren't his strong suit, trust me.”

“Addy, what'd I tell you about bringing in strays?” he said, walking toward the women.

“Oh, so he's a smartass,” Melissa said, looking at Adeline.

“Lance!” Adeline scolded. “I'm sorry, Mel. He doesn't mean that. He likes being a jackass.”

Both women looked up at Lance, who only smiled.

“She tells me I have no manners whatsoever.”

“You need to be leashed,” Adeline said to him.

“Sounds good to me,” he said.

He reached down and grabbed Adeline's hand, pulling her up to him. Melissa watched him embrace her, and both of them smile when he kissed her. The first impression she gave him might not have been so great, but Mel could see that despite the ribbing they gave each other, they cared for each other. He held her to his body with one hand when he turned back to Melissa.

“I apologize Melissa,” he said finally, and held out his hand. “It's nice to meet you.”

“It's nice to meet you too, Lance,” she said back, shaking his hand. “I'm sorry I took you by surprise.”

“It's all good,” he said. “I see you and Addy have become friends.”

“I invited her to the engagement party next month,” Addy said with a smile. “Oh, and...”

Her voice lingered, and she smiled slyly as she turned to Lance and brought her lips up to his ear and covered her mouth with her hand, whispering something in his ear. He only raised an eyebrow and when she was done, he turned to look at her.

“Addy, no.”

“Are you going to try and stop me?” she said with a mischievous smile.

He sighed and released her from his arm. “Marriage is going to be fun, I have to keep telling myself that,” he said as he walked toward the fridge to grab a beer.

“I have a feeling I'm missing something,” Melissa said, looking at Addy, who was still smiling. “But I'd better get going, I had to make a run to the store over an hour ago.”

“You'll stop by again for coffee or something, right?” Addy asked, following Melissa into the living room.

Lance leaned against the counter quietly while the two women flitted into the living room, chatting about what he didn't know, while he slowly took drinks out of his bottle and shook his head. After a few minutes he heard the door close and Addy came flowing back in only seconds later, looking excited.

“They're perfect for each other!” she exclaimed immediately.

“Oh Addy,” he said, shaking his head again. “Taking notes from Stephanie, are we?”

“This is different,” Adeline said, grabbing the two coffee mugs from the table to put them in the sink. “I was married and you were...well, you. Chris and Melissa are both single and nice people.”

“I'll ignore the fact that you basically called me an asshole...again,” he said. “Did you ever think that maybe Chris doesn't want to be set up with some girl he doesn't know?”

“You didn't have the conversation with Chris that I did this afternoon. He's lonely, Lance. I think we should do a double date.”

He immediately groaned.

“We're due for a date anyway. Call him,” she insisted.

“I don't want to double date with Chris,” he said with a whine, setting his bottle on the counter next to him. “He eats all the appetizers, he talks during movies...and he kind of smells.”

She shook her head; even when they weren't in the same room together, they still ribbed each other.

“We're going. I don't see why you're being stubborn about this. Chris might have a good time. I'm not making him go, but I want you to ask him, as his friend.” She knew what would make Lance cave, and she used it to her full advantage. She stuck out her bottom lip and batted her eyes at him once she'd sauntered over to him, using her toe to rub up his ankle. “Please ask.”

“God,” he said, rolling his eyes when he saw her giving him that look. “You could cause World War 3 with that damn look if you wanted to. Fine...” He sighed, trying to pretend to be annoyed. “I'll ask, but I'm not promising a miracle. This is Chris Kirkpatrick we're talking about.”

“Yes, the same guy who stuck food in your ears and nose when you slept on the tour bus, and still collects Dr. Seuss memorabilia.” She leaned in and kissed him softly on the lips. “I think they'll be cute together.”

“There you go again,” Lance said as she tried to look innocent. “Let things happen like they will, Addy.”

“Sometimes you have to give fate a little push,” she pointed out to him, reaching up to straighten his tie and give him a smile.

Chapter 4 – Insecurities

Adeline opened the door and stepped into the nearly-empty coffee shop that Melissa had suggested to her a few days before. She pulled the earbuds of Lance's iPod out of her ears as she stepped up to the counter and ordered a decaf coffee from the girl at the counter. Once she paid and the girl had handed her the coffee, she put a single bud back in her ear and pulled her laptop bag over to an empty table in the far corner of the room.

It was one of the first opportunities in a week that she had a chance to sit down and enjoy some quiet time since she had returned to New York. There were still a lot of unpacked boxes that took over their apartment, because she had found herself a lot more tired lately. Lance had kept her busy now that his career had picked back up, with the start of his radio show.

She had explored the idea of radio hosting for him while they were living in Los Angeles, after being approached by a Sirius executive about him. After an audition and a trial run with a once-a-week spot, they had loved him so much that they had given him his own two-hour, five-day-a-week spot on XM radio; out of that, Dirty Pop was born and she had never seen him so happy doing what he was doing.

Between his usual non-radio appearances, plus the daily show and the special appearances that came with it, traveling between Los Angeles and New York briefly plus whatever other cities he was expected to be in – not to mention wedding planning, whenever she could fit it in – she was exhausted. Too exhausted to do much unpacking on a daily basis, in fact. Boxes had taken over their apartment and it made it hard to focus on work in front of her. So today, she had come here to have a cup or two of coffee, listen to music, and hopefully get some actual work done before she went home to the chaos.

She had barely gotten her laptop unpacked from her bag and turned it on when she looked up at the big window in front of the store and saw a woman standing in front of it, staring in her general direction. Hidden behind sunglasses and short brunette hair, she could see her clearly through the clean window but she couldn't make out distinguishing features – but the profile looked eerily familiar.

Is that Mackenzie? she thought to herself as she looked at the woman. The brunette hair threw her, but the cheekbones and body figure – or what she could see of it, under the heavy double-breasted coat – looked like the woman that she only vaguely knew.

In an instant, it seemed that the woman standing outside the shop connected eyes with Addy behind the glasses and she immediately turned to walk away from the window.

That was weird, Addy thought to herself as she turned back towards her computer, brushing off the incident.

After a few minutes, she had gotten into a rhythm of answering her emails and looking up reviews of cake shops in town when she saw a pair of black pumps step up to her, along with the slim, tan legs that wore them.

“Excuse me?”

She heard the voice and looked up from her laptop. Standing next to her was the same woman she had seen outside the coffee shop – or so she thought, except this one had blonde hair and she knew for sure it was Mackenzie.

“Are you Adeline?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Addy said, feeling a nervousness overtake her that she hadn't felt in a while.

The woman smiled and held out her hand.

“I'm Mackenzie – Mackenzie Montgomery.”

Addy was so shocked she couldn't form words. She was sure after the woman outside disappeared that she had seen her wrong, and it was only someone who had recognized her, since she got that a lot more lately than she was used to.

“Are you okay?” Mackenzie asked, still holding out her hand.

“Yeah,” Adeline answered, shaking off her shock and grabbing the outstretched hand to gently shake it. “Sorry, I was surprised.”

“You mean, you didn't expect to run into Lance's twice-ex-fiancee today?” Mackenzie said with a grin.

“Mackenzie, I'm so--”

“Sorry?” she asked, still grinning. “Honey, please, water under the bridge. I'm not here to start trouble or anything.” She adjusted her messenger bag on her shoulder. “Adeline, may I sit down? I'd like to have a chat with you.”

“Uh...sure,” Addy responded uncertainly.

As Mackenzie sat down in the chair across from her, Adeline scooted her laptop over on the table, making sure to adjust the screen so Mackenzie wouldn't see the bridal tabs she had open on her browser.

“Is he keeping you busy?” Mackenzie asked, pointing at the laptop as she shrugged her bag and coat off her shoulders.

“A little,” Addy responded, still unsure of her visitor's motives. “Nothing I can't handle. I was checking some emails and...stuff.”

“And wedding planning, right?”

“Yeah,” Adeline whispered after a surprised pause. She knew she shouldn't have confirmed it, but her mouth spoke before her brain could stop her. “No one knows about that yet. How do you know?”

“You know those old Looney Tunes cartoons where they leave a cloud of dust behind them as they run?” Mackenzie asked. “That's about how fast Lance hightailed it out of this city.”

To her own surprise, Addy chuckled.

“I can only assume that he left that quickly to run to you, and for good reason.”

“I want to say that I'm sorry,” Adeline quickly interjected. “I had no idea that he would run out on you so suddenly. If I had known...”

“Like I said, water under the bridge,” Mackenzie said. “To tell you the truth, I think I deserved it. A little karmic balance, since I left him in much the same way. Now I know how it feels.”

Addy tapped her pen against her palm nervously. She didn't know what to say. Not only was this woman basically a stranger to her, and the woman who had stolen Lance away from her once – but she and Lance had never talked about the circumstances of his first engagement to Mackenzie. She had never brought it up figuring it was a sore subject, and he had never volunteered information past what she already knew – that Mackenzie had walked out on him a month before the wedding and taken off to Germany.

“Can I ask you a personal question, Addy?” Mackenzie said after she stayed silent.

“Sure,” she responded.

“It's probably none of my business, but...are you happy?”

Her unexpected guest had taken her by surprise, and Addy was sure she could see it in her face.

“Oh, I didn't mean...I mean...I'm not here to like, take him from you...again...or anything,” Mackenzie stuttered. “I really shouldn't have asked, like I said, it's none of my business. I just...want to know, you know?”

“Yeah,” Addy said, then shut her eyes tightly. “I mean yeah, we're happy, not yeah, it's none of your business. Sorry, this is...well, to be honest, uncomfortable.”

“Yeah,” Mackenzie said with a chuckle. “Yeah, I know what you mean. If I'm uncomfortable, I can't imagine how uncomfortable you are right now.”

“The highest level I can say I have been in about six months,” she said. Her doctor had put her on a new medication somewhere in the middle of the divorce due to higher stress levels. It had been working well, but medication couldn't fix everything – especially a situation like this.

“Then I'll get to my point,” Mackenzie said. “I came here to ask you if you were happy because I'm worried about him.”

“Why are you worried about him?” Adeline asked, suddenly not knowing whether she should feel defensive or not.

“Lance seems a little lost,” Mackenzie said. “It feels like he doesn't know what he wants out of his life.”

“What do you mean?”

“He's had three failed engagements already. This last time...I don't think he was even interested in getting married. I think he settled because he couldn't have you and being with me was a step above being alone.”

“I'm sorry you feel that way,” Addy said.

“To tell you the truth, it doesn't bother me,” Mackenzie responded. “I don't think I wanted to get married either, when it came down to it. It did hurt, but I moved on quickly. What bothers me is the fact that Lance seems to be bouncing back and forth, like he can't decide either.”

“You think...” Adeline started, feeling her breath hitch. “You think he doesn't want to get married?”

“I don't think he knows what he wants,” Mackenzie said. “My concern isn't only for him – it's for you too, Addy. I don't want him to end up breaking your heart again, after you've been through so much.”

Adeline found herself speechless.

“I'm sorry,” Mackenzie finally said, gathering her bag and coat. “I shouldn't have talked to you. I feel bad now, because it's none of my business – but I care about both of you. I'd hate to see the two of you destroyed over something that could be stopped before it started. I'm sorry, Addy.”

Before Addy could say anything, she had stood up and threw her bag over her shoulder, stretching out her hand.

“I hope we can be friends, despite me sticking my nose where it doesn't belong anymore,” she said.

Her head swimming with confusion, Addy could only grab Mackenzie's hand to shake it again.

“Of course,” she said.

“It was good to meet you, Addy. Maybe I'll run into you again later.”

Without another word, she had walked away from the table and was out the door before Addy could take one breath.

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“I swear, it was Mackenzie.”

Lance rolled his eyes.

“Are you sure it wasn't someone who looked like her?” he asked, pulling out the drawer to remove two forks along with the two plates he already had in his hand.

“Yeah, I'm pretty sure, considering she introduced herself as Mackenzie Montgomery and the entire conversation was about you,” she said, standing at the stove to stir the sauce. “How many different Mackenzie Montgomerys have you dated in your life?”

“Fine, smartass,” he said, throwing his arms up before setting the plates and forks down at the table. “So it was Mackenzie. I'm sure you have nothing to worry about. She probably wants to make amends, be friends.”

“Yeah, because I'd be so interested in being friends with your ex-fiancee that stole you from me, right?” she said sarcastically.

“She was mending a bridge, Addy,” Lance said. “That's it. Nothing more to read into it.”

“Mending? More like burning. She shows up conveniently – again – and wants to talk to me personally about you, telling me that she's worried you're only getting married because you don't want to be alone? She has motives, Lance.”

“Motives?” he said with a chuckle. “She's one of the most unassuming people I've ever known, second only to you. I don't think she has an evil bone in her body.”

Adeline shrieked loudly. “Ha! You're blind.”

“And you're jealous,” he said.

“You're defending her.”

She stopped stirring and set the spoon down next to the pot, turning toward him. He had his back to her, still setting the table for dinner, and he remained silent. Suddenly, her heart dropped.

“Is she right?” she asked.

“What?” he said, turning to her as he put the last plate down on the table.

“You don't want to get married, do you?” she asked.

“What?” he exclaimed. “Are you serious?”

“Are you?” she challenged. “Your ex comes into town to talk to me about you and your insecurities, and instead of taking my side, you defend her.”

“And suddenly, that means I don't want to marry you...how?” he asked.

“Simple logic,” she said as she dumped the pot of sauce into the already cooked noodles.

“Whose logic? Chris's back-ass-wards logic that tells him flying down a ramp on a scooter with a broken hand brake is a good idea?” he asked. “And insecurities – maybe you have insecurities.”

“Ohhhhh,” she said, drawing out the word. “I have insecurities? Let's talk about my insecurities. The only insecurities that I have are you deciding five years from now that you made the biggest mistake of your life by marrying me.”

“Is that what you think?” he asked.

“I just went through a year-long divorce from a man who was supposed to love me,” she said. “He cheated, he lied, he took everything away from me...and he blames it all on me.”

He sighed. They had been arguing about this for at least twenty minutes, but she had been in a mood all day. He knew she was tired and overloaded, because he felt that way too, between the move and all the new things they had going on in their lives.

“And I uprooted my entire life on a whim to move to Los Angeles and live with you through the whole divorce,” he said, keeping his tone of voice lower than yelling. “He didn't do that – I did. I stood by you while you went through the entire thing, because I wanted to. I've put everything into this relationship because I love you, Addy. I've more than committed myself to you. Now you want to stand here and accuse me of having insecurities about marrying you?”

“So you can tell me that no part of you – not even a little part of you – has cold feet?” she asked.

“My feet are toasty warm with a capital TW,” he said with a smile. “My feet couldn't be warmer if I was wearing wool socks. I'm absolutely, one-hundred percent positive that I want to marry you.”

He could tell that despite his best efforts to convince her and cool off the argument, she still had doubts about him. Her body language said she was nervous, leaning her back side against the counter and rubbing her temple with her fingers.

“I don't know what Mackenzie's reasons are for saying that she doesn't think I want to marry you, but she has no idea what she's talking about. She's sure not hearing that from me,” he said. He started walking toward her. “I haven't talked to her since I left New York over a year ago and I don't intend to. I don't intend to go back to her either, no matter what she tries this time.”

He took her waist in his arms, being careful to avoid both of them touching the hot stove.

“I love you,” he said, kissing her cheek. “I haven't had the best of luck with engagements but I know what I want now, and it's you. Only you. I will never have with anyone else what I have with you. Is that enough convincing for you?”

When she looked up at him, he could tell she still had something on her mind. Even so, she softened.

“I'm sorry,” she said. “I'm so tired. I guess it's making me moody.”

“Leave this,” he said, flipping the burner knob on the stove into the off position. “I'll run to the store and pick up some wine, and I'll take care of the rest of it when I come back. You go relax. Take a bath or something, and then we'll have a nice dinner, okay?”

She vaguely nodded, and he squeezed her arm before letting her go and walking over to the counter, grabbing his keys in a quick movement.

“I'll be back in about half an hour,” he said as he started walking out of the kitchen. “I expect to find you zenned out in the tub when I get back, Addy.”

She stood around a few minutes after he walked out of the apartment, trying to take deep breaths to relax herself. She covered the pot of food with a lid and made sure that all the knobs on the stove were turned off before she walked out of the kitchen. She stopped at the linen closet and grabbed a towel out of it, then grabbed an alligator clip out of their bedroom and threw her blonde hair up lazily before walking into the bathroom and closing the door behind her.

She stripped down her clothes, threw the towel around herself, and sat on the edge of the tub while the hot water filled. She threw in some scented bath salts before throwing the towel to the floor and stepping into the half-filled tub.

It only took a few more minutes for the bath to fill up to her chest and she started to relax. As she let the heat soothe muscles that she didn't even know were stressed, she thought about the day she'd had. It was strange, to say the least. She never thought that she would see Mackenzie again unless it was in a magazine, and she never could have guessed that Mackenzie would approach her instead of Lance.

He was wrong; she wasn't jealous. At least, she didn't think she was. If she had any trust in Mackenzie whatsoever, she would have no problems with him remaining friends with her. She knew plenty of his ex-girlfriends. She had met his ex-girlfriend Danielle while they lived in LA and had no insecurities about that. She adored his old co-star Emanuelle, and he even talked to Lisette once since the first time the two women had rather uncomfortably met – although it was possible those weren't the two best examples, considering there was little romantic history there.

But he had mixed histories with plenty of women that she had already met, and she felt no jealousy against any of them. Mackenzie was...different. The history between them was not in Addy's favor, and the woman had already proven to Addy that she still had feelings for Lance. She also knew that Mackenzie had no issues trying anything she could to take him away from Addy. It wasn't necessarily that she couldn't trust Lance; but she definitely couldn't put any trust into Mackenzie.

She tried to convince herself that when Mackenzie said she wasn't trying to “take” him away from her this time, she meant it – but even in a more relaxed state, she couldn't bring herself to let her guard down completely. No matter what he said, she knew that Mackenzie wasn't innocent – no matter how much she tried to portray herself as such.

She had been in the tub for about twenty minutes and started to feel herself nod off to sleep when she was startled by the loud sound of the door slamming in the apartment.

“Lance?” she yelled.

When she got no response, she leaned up in the tub, disturbing the still water and sloshing it up the side of the tub.

“Lance, is that you?” she yelled again.

She waited a few more seconds, but again got no response.

“Probably forgot his wallet again,” she said to herself, groaning as she lifted herself out of the tub and grabbed her towel. “Pain in the ass expects me to relax, then goes around slamming doors.”

She used the towel to pat herself somewhat dry, then wrapped it around her naked body before stepping out of the bathroom. Cool air hit her bare skin the minute she opened the door, causing goosebumps to rise up on her arms and legs. She walked quickly down the small length of the hallway, hoping she could find him quickly and go back to the warm comfort of the bath.

“Lance, did you forget something?” she said as she stepped into the living room.

She was surprised to find it completely empty, exactly how she had left it when she went into the bathroom. She walked over to the small table in the living room where he almost always kept his keys and wallet; both items were gone, and the mail that he had brought in earlier undisturbed.

She narrowed her eyes and turned to walk into the kitchen, wondering what he could have forgotten in there that he would have to come back to get. She was shocked when she found that the kitchen was also empty; the light still turned on, the lid still on the pot, the table still set.

“What the hell?” she said to herself.

She turned to exit the kitchen and get ready to check the only other place she could think he would be, the bedroom, when she noticed something on the counter where he had grabbed his keys before he left – a single pink rose.

She walked curiously towards the counter and picked it up, noticing that laying under it was a small white card, about the size of an index card. She moved the rose over to the side and picked up the card, turning it over.

“Sorry for all I've put you through,” she read from it. “I'll never stop loving you and I can't wait for us to be together again.”

She furrowed her eyebrows as she sat the card back down next to the rose.

“Again? You left twenty minutes ago, dork,” she said to thin air.

Still, she felt herself smiling as she shook her head and started walking back to the bathroom to finish her bath.

“Cute, Lance,” she said. “A little creepy – but cute.”

Chapter 5 – Powers of Persuasion

“Miss Addy!”

Addy looked up from the envelopes of bills and junk mail she was sifting through while standing in front of their mailbox to see Carlos, the evening security guard, walking toward her.

“Carlos!” she exclaimed, smiling. “I haven't seen you for a few days. Where have you been?”

“Days off, Miss Addy,” Carlos said with a smile. “Would you know what those are, since you never seem to take one?”

“I guess not,” she said, laughing. “How are you?”

The older gentleman reached out to embrace her in a gentle hug. Carlos had been working security for the complex for about a year and a half. He had been hired shortly after she had moved to New York to work for Lance, and they had quickly become friends of a sort. After Lance's apartment had been broken into previously, he had been extra watchful over her.

She appreciated that he took his job seriously. She felt much safer knowing he knew about the break-in and he cared about her enough to keep his eye out for her – even though Lance joked that he might have a slight crush on her, and she thought he might be right.

“I'm good,” he said, patting her on her upper back a couple of times before releasing her. “How is Mr. Bass?”

“You can call him Lance, Carlos,” she said with a giggle. “He's busy, but he's good.”

“I try to listen to his show on my shift. It seems like he enjoys it.”

“He does,” she said. “He missed music. He's not making it anymore, but he's having fun now that he's doing something related to music.”

“He has a radio voice,” Carlos said with a nod. “Sounds good on him. Sounds like he was born for it.”

“Well, I don't know about the born for it part, but he does have that radio voice.”

He smiled. “Well, I better get back to my shift. I'll be here all night if you need me. Tell Mr. Bass--”

She narrowed her eyes at him briefly.

“--Lance, sorry – that I said hello.”

She chuckled and shook her head. “I'll do that Carlos, thank you.”

She stuffed their mail into her tote bag as Carlos gave her a quick departing nod, and she turned to take the few steps toward the elevator. With her head down, she didn't even notice that she was walking directly into someone else's path, and slammed into someone's arm full of reusable grocery bags.

Both women groaned as they connected and they both watched two bags fall to the ground, spilling out a few of their contents.

“Addy!” Melissa said, looking up and connecting eyes with her.

“I'm so sorry Mel!” Addy said, looking up at her. “I didn't even see you there.”

“It's okay,” Mel said with a laugh, looking at her friend's wide eyes. “I wasn't exactly watching where I was going either.”

They both bent down to pick up the bags, Mel setting her other bags next to her. Addy picked up a fresh loaf of French bread, a block of Parmesan cheese, and a head of lettuce and put them back into the bag closest to her.

“Are you having someone over for dinner tonight?” she asked Mel, watching her pick up a bag of spaghetti noodles and a produce bag of tomatoes.

“Oh this? No,” Mel said. “This is just a few groceries and the ingredients for one of my first assignments for class.”

Addy smiled to herself, thankful that at least Mel didn't have any immediate plans to have any new suitors over for dinner.

“All this food for one person, that's such a shame. You should have a date over.”

Mel guffawed. “No. I'm doing fine on my own right now – I'll be lucky if I don't give myself food poisoning, much less someone else.”

Adeline raised her eyebrows, chuckling.

“Would you like to come up for coffee?” Mel asked. She put the last spilled grocery item back in the bag and blew a stray strand of hair out of her eyes as she looked up. “Surely I can make coffee safely – although, I can't guarantee it.”

“Sure,” Addy said with a laugh. “Let me help you carry these up.”

Twenty minutes later, the two women had reached Mel's apartment and finished putting the groceries away. Addy had sat down on the couch to relax, Mel following shortly after with two mugs in her hands.

“You look tired.”

Addy looked up as she sat a cup of coffee on the table in front of her.

“I can get my own coffee, you know – I'm not completely helpless,” she said as she picked up the cup and took a drink of it. “But thanks, and yes I am.”

Addy leaned back on the couch pillows and gave her friend a small smile.

“I feel like I could sleep for a few days and not care that I'm not doing whatever it is I'm supposed to be doing,” she said. “What have you been up to?”

Melissa hadn't seen Addy in a little over a week, both girls busy coming and going.

“Working,” she said, frowning and sighing. “And school. I signed up for some summer culinary classes. It should be interesting to say the least. I can cook a decent meal, but I'm from the South. We don't have quite the finesse that New York chefs have. We have fried potatoes, cornbread, and beans. That's not exactly Top Chef material.”

Addy chuckled and shifted on the couch, pulling one leg up so she could sit and face the other woman a little better.

“Lance would love that,” she said. “Don't tell him you can cook or he'll want to come over every night for dinner. I can manage so we don't starve, but I'm a little out-of-practice on doing this whole 'housewife' thing.”

“I don't miss that,” Melissa said with a slight smile, running her finger around the rim of her mug.

“It's not that I mind it. Actually, it's not that different from when I was only his assistant.” She paused, and her facial expression changed. “Come to think of it, it's not different at all, except for the fact that I'm sleeping with him now.”

“But weren't you sleeping with him before too?” Melissa asked, chuckling.

“Hey, I waited a month,” Addy said defensively, to which Mel laughed.

“I just don't miss taking care of someone except for myself,” she said. “Especially someone who doesn't always appreciate you for what you do for them.”

“Yeah, that's sort of how my ex-husband was,” Addy said. She pulled a throw pillow out from underneath her and hugged it to her body. “Nobody did anything as perfectly as he did – or so he thought. He was particular about things; but I suppose part of that was influenced by fame and money. When you can afford to buy the best, you can afford to be picky.”

“And you're complaining about that?”

“Money really can't buy happiness,” Adeline said. “I'd have been just as unhappy in a two-bedroom apartment with Marc working at McDonald's. Look at how I live now – in a one-bedroom apartment that I have no idea how I'm going to manage to fit all the crap I brought over from Los Angeles into.”

“Have you managed to get unpacked yet?”

“Close, but not quite,” Addy answered. “The engagement party is in about three weeks, all the guys are coming in for it, there's a lot of Lance's other friends coming – we need that living room totally cleared out and cleaned for it. Unless we move some of the boxes to my old apartment for a while, I have no idea how I'm going to do it as tired as I am. I better get some energy soon.”

“Well, that's why God created the wonderful thing known as the coffee bean,” Mel said with a smile, holding up her mug before taking a sip.

Addy chuckled. “Well then I'll need an IV drip for the next three weeks.”

Mel didn't speak. Addy took a drink of her own coffee and glanced briefly around the living room, this being the first time she had seen her friend's apartment.

“Speaking of cleared out apartments,” she said, taking in the surroundings. The layout was basically the same as Lance's, turned around the opposite way of course. His apartment was furnished by now, part of it by him when he was single and as Addy had come to live with him she had added a few things. He had a full bookshelf, pictures and art on the wall and among other flat surfaces, a full living room set, and decorations like houseplants and knick-knacks filling in other spaces that needed a little something extra.

Mel's apartment, on the other hand, felt a lot more empty – almost like Addy's old apartment when she had first moved in. She had a few furniture items, an old CRT television set, and a single houseplant. No picture frames or art adorned the walls, and there was no sign that Mel had put her personal touch on the room.

“Is this some kind of feng shui or something?” Addy asked, looking around the empty walls.

“I just...don't like a lot of clutter,” Melissa said. She felt her cheeks start to blush with embarrassment. “Which is good, I suppose, since I moved here with so little stuff.”

“It's nice,” Addy said, trying to recover. “No clutter is good, obviously if that's a problem I need to catch it from you. It's a shock though – no pictures, no books, no scrapbooks or photo albums. It's almost like there's no sign of life in here.”

“When you move looking to start a new life, you don't usually bring pictures,” Mel said with a shrug. “When you have a past you'd rather forget, you don't bring along any memories to help you remember.”

Adeline looked away from the walls to stare at her friend. She knew all too well about running from your past. It was exactly what she was doing when she had moved to New York, albeit with more personal belongings. The way she ran from the past was evident though – by the fact that she hated opening certain photo albums, or running across certain memories while unpacking her items, or stayed away from triggering items, such as baby clothes and strollers.

“What are you running from, Mel?” she asked softly.

“I'm not running,” Mel responded matter-of-factly. “I walked away calmly, avoiding bringing most of my stuff in the process. And I don't want to talk about it, if that's okay.”

“Of course,” Addy said sympathetically, silently scolding herself for not minding her own business. “I'm really sorry, I shouldn't have asked.”

“It's okay,” Mel said, her face softening as she chuckled. “I didn't want it to come out sounding mean or anything. I'd just prefer not to talk about it is all.”

The tension in the room had lifted after a couple of minutes which led to them having a long conversation. Before Addy knew it, she had looked at the clock to see that it was almost seven at night and she had a long empty mug of coffee.

“I better go, Lance will be home in a few minutes and I should start dinner, maybe try to do a bit more unpacking,” she said. She lifted herself up off the couch, grabbing her tote bag next to the couch in the process. “Listen, I wanted to ask you...”

Mel lifted her head up attentively as she gathered up both mugs to take them to the kitchen.

“Actually, I wanted to ask you two things,” Addy continued. “First – do you think you would cater the hors d'oeuvres for the engagement party? I know you're just starting out in culinary school but Lance would love a little southern cooking, and we can pay you good money to do it. I'd rather pay a friend than some second-rate pastry chef whose idea of good hors d'oeuvres is pigs in a blanket.”

Mel laughed. “I think I can manage that.”

“We'd really appreciate it. Second--” Addy hesitated, thinking briefly of her friend who had looked so lost not so long ago when talking about her obviously difficult past. “--Lance and I were wondering if you'd be interested in going to dinner with us and a friend of his. Chris, actually. Chris Kirkpatrick.”

Mel's eyes widened and she almost dropped the mugs to the floor.

“Chris Kirkpatrick – you mean the Chris Kirkpatrick, from NSYNC?” she asked.

“That's the one,” Addy said with a giggle. “Unless Lance was in some other 90's boy band that I don't know of. The Chris Kirkpatrick.”

“You mean, like a...a date?” Mel said, stuttering.

“Sort of,” Addy said, unsure of herself. “A double date, anyway. Chris is single and kind of down on the dating scene right now. I think it could do him good to go out with a nice woman like yourself. No pressure – if nothing sparks between you two, maybe it would give both of you a little bit of a confidence boost in the dating department, knowing that there are still decent people out there.”

“I don't know Addy,” Mel said, shrugging uncertainly as she walked the mugs quickly to the kitchen. “I mean, it was enough of a challenge trying to keep my cool when Lance was right in front of me. The only thing that saved me was that I never really found him my 'type'.”

“Chris is an amazing guy. He's funny, and goofy, and sweet; a big teddy bear type with tattoos and a goatee. He's everything that fans saw in him, and he's like Lance – when you really get to know him, he doesn't act like a celebrity at all.”

“But he is a celebrity,” Mel responded. “You're engaged to a celebrity, you hang out with them all the time, you're used to this. I just live across from them and try not to hyperventilate when I see Lance step out into the hallway and embarrass myself asking for an autograph.”

“I'm sure I could use my powers of persuasion to get the boys to sign a picture for you, if you went out on the date,” Addy said, smiling. “If those don't work, I'll use my powers of force, threat, and manipulation.”

“Why in the world would a celebrity like Chris want to date me?” Mel asked. “Plain Jane, blue collar, culinary failure me?”

“Because you're normal. They want that; they need that. They don't want to date anybody in the business because that makes things too complicated. Egos get in the way, media makes things difficult, and on top of all that, they never get to see each other because they're always so busy. I'm a classic example – look at how the media played a role in my divorce. And I'm in the business but since I work for Lance, he gets to see me a lot.”

“I just don't have a good feeling about it,” Mel said, scrunching her face up in uncertainty.

“You're a little nervous, that's all,” Addy said. “Just give it a chance. I'm sure you won't regret it. Besides, if it doesn't work out, you'll be able to tell all your friends that you went out on a date with two members of NSYNC, and it will be the truth. Who else gets to tell that story?”

“You're the entirety of my friends really, so that's not a selling point,” Melissa said with a laugh, then she sighed. “But fine, I'll go. I'll give it a chance.”

Addy squealed lightly in delight and jumped up to grab Mel in a hug, who only smiled.

“I'll need a Xanax and a heart rate monitor to get through it without a heart attack though.”

“Hey, I have one of those bases covered,” Addy said, giggling. “I've got the Xanax. I'm so glad you agreed to go.”

“If this is a disaster, I'm holding you personally responsible,” Mel said, giving her friend a light squeeze.

“Just remember, I'm a personal assistant, not a professional matchmaker. And I don't even play one on TV.”

Both women shared a laugh between them before Addy said her final goodbyes and left Mel in the apartment alone. She walked the quick few steps across the hall and pulled out her keys, only to find after giving the knob a slight twist that the door was already unlocked.

She walked in immediately, setting her bag down by the door with a confused look on her face. With a few more steps into the apartment, she was relieved and at the same time worried to see Lance laying on the couch with his eyes closed, a bag of frozen vegetables held to his forehead.

“What's wrong?” she asked, resisting the urge to chuckle at the sight of him with the mixed vegetables against his face.

“I came home sick,” he managed. “I can't keep anything down and I have a fever. I think I have the flu. I came home to die, Addy.”

She smiled.

“I doubt that,” she said, walking to him. She moved the half-thawed bag from his head and placed her hand on his forehead. It was cold from the bag, but past that she could feel the heat on his skin.

“You're burning up,” she said, wiping the smile from her face. “Have you taken anything?”

“No, I made it this far. I thought it would be more comfortable to die on the couch.”

She rolled her eyes. “Men and colds – you guys sneeze and you think you should start planning a funeral.” She grabbed his arm gently and started lifting him. “Come on. If you really are going to die, I'd rather not have a body on my couch when I bring my new boyfriend over.”

“Give the man who replaces me my best wishes,” he muttered before standing and wrapping his arm around her waist as she rolled her eyes.

Chapter 6 – Broken

Lance had been sitting casually on the couch when she came into the apartment. Expecting her to speak, he was surprised when she only threw her bag down to the floor and ran to the bathroom immediately.

When he heard her throwing up seconds later, just as he had expected, he stood up and walked to the bathroom, leaning against the doorway.

“I guess that's a 'yes' to the question of whether you'd catch it from me, then,” he said.

She only groaned in response, still feeling her stomach lurch.

He had spent the whole night before getting sick, only sleeping on and off through the night. It had been a miserable night for him, and he suspected it hadn't been pleasant for her either, being woken up every hour or so by him. He had taken the day away from the station to recover and had slept a good part of the morning. She had left him alone to run errands and do her own business, but he had been out of bed for a couple hours, even feeling good enough to keep a little food down.

“You okay?” he asked after she threw up once more.

“A little tip,” she said, finally lifting her head up and wiping her mouth with a tissue. “When you know you're probably going to catch the stomach flu and you're choosing your 'last meal', it's not a good idea to throw caution to the wind at lunch and choose Mexican.”

He grimaced. “Thanks. You just turned me off of burritos forever.”

“I suffer, you suffer,” she said as she flushed.

“Well,” he said, “the good news is, it looks like you won't suffer long. I'm feeling better and even keeping food down – despite the lovely visual you painted for me. Looks like it's only a twenty-four hour thing.”

“Thank God,” she said, turning off the light and walking out of the bathroom with him walking behind her. “I can't afford to be sick for more than a day. I have too much stuff to do and I'm already too exhausted to do most of it. I can't be down for the count like this.”

“Maybe this is why we've been so tired,” he said. “I wonder how we caught it.”

“Who knows.” She fell to the couch in the living room and adjusted a throw pillow to lay on it. “It could be anything. We were on a long flight a couple of weeks ago – and you know how riddled with germs airports and planes have to be. I've been several different places since we've been back. Maybe someone at the station was sick and you caught it there.”

She sighed; the comfort of having a moment to lie down and do nothing, even if she felt horrible, was welcome.

“You were right, it is more comfortable to die on the couch,” she said.

“Well, at least you're finally getting a chance to rest,” he said with a laugh. He walked over to her side and as she had done for him the evening before, placed his hand on her forehead.

“You don't have a fever,” he said. “That's weird. Mine came with a fever.”

“Maybe that's good,” she mumbled. “Maybe it's not what you had.”

“If it's not what I had, what would it be?”

“Could be food poisoning. Like I said, I had Mexican for lunch. I think that was a bad idea all around.”

“You should go lay down in bed,” he said. “Whether it's the flu like I had or food poisoning, you'll be up again in about an hour, throwing up more. I promise you, it won't be pretty.”

Although she didn't even want to move, she knew he was probably right. Without any acknowledgment, she slowly moved off the couch and into their bedroom. When she reached it, she stripped her work clothes and changed into her sleeping clothes, a more comfortable t-shirt and pajama pants combo.

It felt like the minute she laid down and her head hit the pillow, she fell into a peaceful rest. She heard some moving around and clanging coming from the kitchen, but after only a few minutes, she fell into peaceful, silent sleep.

But the next thing she knew, she felt herself walking down a hallway. Like so many other times before, with each and every step, she felt the presence of someone behind her. She heard no footsteps; but upon stopping and turning her head, she knew that whoever – or whatever – it was, they were silently sneaking up behind her. Not looking back again, she resumed walking, speeding up her footsteps. The door was only feet ahead of her; she knew if she stayed calm, walked quickly enough, and reached it in time, she would be safe.

By the time she reached the door, she felt as if she was almost running. Despite knowing there was no one behind her, goosebumps formed on the back of her neck, as if someone was breathing directly on her. She quickly grabbed the handle of the door and as soon as she turned it, the goosebumps dissipated, her heart stopped racing and her breathing fell back to normal.

The bright light blinded her the moment the door opened, and she knew her feet were still moving but she couldn't see where she was walking. When the light diminished, she turned to look behind her expecting to see the door, but her jaw dropped when all she could see in front of her was a bright, open field of color.

She stopped to take a breath. Seconds before she had been in a dull, gray hallway feeling fear in her heart; and suddenly, she was staring at the most beautiful garden she had ever seen. Miles of clear, blue skies could be seen over her head while she could feel lush, bright green grass under her feet. Weeping willow trees stood tall among more flowers than she had ever seen – a wide array of daisies, violets, foxgloves, daffodils, snowdrops...in fact, she saw more flowers than she could name.

She knew it was a dream; it had to be a dream, not only because the door had mysteriously disappeared into thin air, but because she didn't think that anything that existed in nature could be this beautiful. She knew she had to be asleep, but she didn't want to wake up from this dream, unlike her others. Never had any of her dreams been this peaceful, clear, or calming.

She whipped around quickly when she heard a giggle from behind her, only to see the back side of a small girl running away from her. Before Addy could look twice, the girl skipped and disappeared behind the trunk of a tree. Seconds later, the girl quickly and playfully peeked her head out from behind the tree, as Addy's attention was ripped away by another small figure shooting across the field on her other side.

“Hello?”

Subconsciously, since she knew it was a dream, she didn't expect an answer. So she wasn't surprised when instead of hearing a response, she only heard the echoing of her voice seconds before the echoes of the giggles resumed and both figures darted out from behind their trees to run in front of her.

The girl couldn't be more than six years old; the boy, two or three at her best guess. Energetic, spunky, and playful, both of them laughed and frolicked as if neither one saw her standing there; as if she didn't inhibit their fun in the least. They moved so fast that she couldn't see either of their faces right away, but her eyes fixated on the young girl's curly, light caramel-colored hair.

She had hoped and dreamed that one day, she would have a daughter with a full head of caramel-colored curls.

The boy disappeared before Addy could find him, and she was surprised when the girl slowed down to walk up to her, letting a final chuckle escape her lips before she looked up.

“Hi,” she said. She smiled shyly, but there was nothing shy about her.

“Hi,” Addy said, smiling. It surprised her to hear the words come out of her so easily and child-like, since speaking with children hadn't come naturally to her. “What's your name?”

“What's your name?” the girl said with another giggle.

Adeline couldn't help but chuckle. “I'm Adeline.”

“Adeline.” She pronounced each syllable of the name carefully, thinking it over. “That's a pretty name.”

“I'm sure you have a pretty name, too,” Addy responded.

“Here, we don't have names,” the girl replied.

“But, how do you call each other?” Addy asked. “How do you know who's who?”

The girl broke into a fit of child-like laughter. “We don't need names to know each other. We just know.”

“Well what do your friends call you?”

“Nothing,” she said, still giggling.

“You know what you sound like to me?” Addy asked, smiling. She couldn't help it; the little girl's laughter and cheeriness was contagious. “You sound like a giggle-box to me.”

“Princess Giggle-box,” she said with a laugh.

“Princess Giggle-box it is, then,” Addy said, laughing a little herself. “Where's your mommy, Miss Princess Giggle-box?”

“I don't need one here.”

She said it with no sadness, no grief. A motherless child – something that Addy could understand all too well, since she had lost her mother as a child as well, when she had needed her the most. At the same time, there was a childless mother out there, somewhere, missing her little golden-haired girl – also something Addy could understand, more than she wanted to.

She didn't have time to grieve on it, though, as the girl grabbed her hand and gave it a small tug.

“Let's go over here,” she said, smiling brightly.

Adeline was surprised at the force, laughing when the girl yanked with all her might and started pulling her away from the middle of the field. She moved lightly on her feet, with grace around the flowers and trees, as if she knew this place well. As sad of an idea as it was to Addy that this child lived here, without a mother around her, she could see the beauty in it as well. It was whimsical and calm, serene and safe.

She was starting to think she knew where she was. And in her eyes, it was the most beautiful place a child could end up – where they could run and play all day without a care in the world.

The girl led her to a spot near a tree where wild flowers bloomed in a patch of colorful blues, purples, whites, and reds. They both sat down and the girl proceeded to pick a white daisy from the patch and place it carefully in Addy's hair, behind her ear. Neither of them spoke; Addy had so many questions, but the girl had only given vague answers so far, so she didn't bother. She knew eventually, she would wake up from the dream and she wanted to enjoy every moment she had.

Adeline had almost forgotten about the little boy until he came up to them, standing next to the girl warily, looking down at Adeline. She looked up and noticed the same big, brown eyes and caramel-colored hair.

“And who are you, sweetie?” Addy asked the little boy.

He looked away and down at the little girl shyly, and after connecting eyes with him, she looked back at Addy.

“That's my little brother,” she said. “But he can't stay here. He has to go away soon.”

“Where does he have to go?” Addy asked, confused.

She noticed that the little girl opened her mouth as if to answer, but instead smiled when Addy felt herself being pulled away from the patch of grass, not of her own will.

She jumped when she felt the arms wrap around her in the bed.

“It's okay, it's me,” Lance whispered, tightening his grip.

He had become accustomed to the dreams – sometimes more like night terrors – that she had been experiencing the past year. While they had waned as the divorce and the stress came to an end, they had picked back up recently, another factor contributing to her not getting enough sleep.

“Another nightmare?” he asked when she released a breath of air, hoping to calm her racing heart.

“A dream,” she said, still in a hazy post-sleep fog. “Just a weird dream.”

“Not like the others?”

He didn't need to ask any further when he noticed she immediately broke down into tears.

“I think it was her,” she said.

He knew her well enough to know exactly what she meant. She sometimes had dreams of her daughter – what had happened, what could have happened, and what could have been. She held on to anything she could manage these days, to keep something close to her. It seemed to him that the more time passed, the worse she felt about it. When most people would grieve and eventually come to terms with a loss, there was no coming to terms with this. She felt that the farther she moved away from it meant she was only forgetting her daughter's memory.

“Tell me about it,” he said softly.

She tearfully recounted the dream, from the moments of being followed in the hallway right down to the two children in the field and picking wild flowers with them.

“Well, it sounds beautiful,” he said.

“It was,” she said, wiping away a few tears. “It was just weird. You should have seen her hair and her face – she looked nothing like Marc. She looked more like you than anything.”

He paused, wishing he could see with his own eyes.

“Well, you know,” he said, “I think when we lose someone we love, they show themselves to us the way they think we want to see them. They want to reassure us that they're happy and perfect. She knows that you're happy now, and she wants to show you that she's happy, too.”

“Do you think so?” she asked.

“Yeah. If she were here, you and I would be raising her. Since she'd still be so young, it's only natural to think she'd probably take after me in some ways. She wouldn't know any other life than the one you and I would give her. Maybe this is her way of showing you that because you're happy, she's happy.”

She nodded. More than once, she thought about how life would be different if her daughter were in the picture. She knew she would rather see certain characteristics of Lance's in her daughter's personality, and had dreamed about it. In most of her dreams, it had been subtle; never shockingly obvious, like it had been in this one.

“If she was here, there's nothing I wouldn't give her,” he said, moving closer to her. “She would be treated like she were my own, because she would be my own in my eyes. You know that, right?”

She nodded again, feeling more tears in her eyes. “Yeah, I know.”

He had secrets that he kept from her, things that she didn't know. She didn't know that every time she cried over her daughter, it hurt him more. As he had grown closer to her, the pain grew. Going to the cemetery twice a year, on Memorial Day and the anniversary of her death, got harder each year for him. She had always been a part of Addy – but as time went by and Addy became a bigger part of his life, so did her daughter.

“I'm sorry,” she finally said, laughing a little as she wiped away her tears with the heel of her hand. “That dream was a shock – it was one of the best things I've ever experienced.”

“I wish I could have a dream like that,” he said honestly.

“I wish I could go back,” she admitted. “Maybe it was a feverish, flu-induced hallucination – but even if it was...I don't know.” She paused, looking him in the eyes. “I feel like I was given a gift. A really great gift. I wish I could give that gift to every single person that is walking this same path in my shoes right now.”

“I wish I could give it back to you. I wish I could take all the bad away from you and give you more of the good. I wish I could stop the crying for you.”

He reached up to wipe the last stray tears away from her cheeks and eyes.

“I wish I could do a lot of things for you,” he said.

“I don't know,” she said with a slight smile. “I think you've done pretty good so far.”

He smiled.

“You gave me my life back,” she said. “When I came to work for you, I had all but given up. I had no purpose other than my job. That was the only thing that gave me the sense that I was worth something. I like my job, I like my needy clients; people think I'm crazy for it, but someone depends on me for something. If I weren't here, someone would miss me.”

“I'm not needy,” he said, then narrowed an eyebrow. “Am I?”

“You're a shining example of needy,” she said. “Not the 'Addy, bring me my coffee, Addy, press my suit' kind of needy maybe – you needed me in a different way.”

“Yeah, I was kind of a mess,” he admitted.

“You were a wreck,” she said. “But that was okay because so was I. Stephanie was right – we needed each other.”

“I'm sorry that's the first side of me you got to see,” he said. “I'm sorry for everything I did to make your life miserable at first, for everything I put you through.”

“Is that what that note and the rose was all about the other day?”

As she ran a finger through the side of his hair, he looked at her.

“What note?” he asked.

“The note, silly,” she said. When he stared into her eyes with the same confused look, she lowered her arm back down to her side. “The note you left on the counter, in the apartment, the other day when you went out to get wine for dinner. You left, I got in the bath, and I was about to fall asleep when I heard the front door shut. I thought you had come back because you forgot your wallet again, but when I came out all I found was a note on the kitchen counter that said 'I'm sorry for everything I put you through'. You left a pink rose on top of it. Don't you remember?”

“I have no idea what you're talking about, baby. Maybe you are having fever-induced hallucinations.”

As he brought his hand up to her forehead, she gently pushed it away with a laugh.

“It's not a hallucination,” she said. “I still have the note, in my bag. You came back when I was in the bath to leave it for me. How can you not remember?”

“Addy,” he said, with the most serious expression she had ever seen on his face. “I didn't leave that note.”

“You didn't leave a pink rose on top of that note on the counter?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I didn't.”

“Well, if you didn't leave it...” she said, letting her voice trail in confusion.

“Who did?” he finished.

Neither of them spoke for a moment. Seeing the concern on her face, he lifted his head slightly.

“I'll bet it was that weirdo security guard that likes you so much,” he said, smiling.

“Carlos?” she asked, the pitch in her voice raising. “Why would he leave me a pink rose like that?”

“Because he's got the hots for you.”

She noticed the small roll of his eyes, and the way his smile fell a little.

“Oh, come on.”

“He does. The way he says your name – 'oh Miss Addy',” he mocked. “Not that I'm jealous or anything.”

“Yeah,” she said, smiling and rolling her eyes as he looked on.

As much as he had tried to bring some humor back to the conversation, she couldn't help but feel a little concerned. The way the note had been worded sounded nothing like her friend Carlos. What could he possibly have to be sorry for 'putting her through'? Not only that, but none of the security staff had keys to any of the residents' apartments – how would he manage to get in? What business would he have in their apartment, anyway?

“I wouldn't worry about it,” he said, shifting his body away from her to stand up out of the bed. “I'm going to get a drink before I come back to bed. You want anything?”

“Just some water,” she said, trying to shake off her concern. He was right; it was probably nothing to worry about. “I'm too tired to eat anything, I think I want to watch some TV in here tonight and fall back to sleep.”

He smiled at her and turned out the light before he walked out of the room, watching her grab the remote and turn the television on as he closed the door. He walked through the hallway and into the living room, turning off all their lights as he passed the switches. When he reached the kitchen, he turned on the light and headed straight to the cabinet, pulling out two glasses.

As he filled both of them with water to take back to bed for them, he thought of how her facial expression had changed when he told her that he hadn't left the note she had found. Obviously, she had thought he had written it for her, as some sort of romantic gesture. He had done a lot of those – but it wasn't his style to sneak back into his own apartment and leave a random note and a flower for her to find later.

As he walked back through the kitchen with the glasses, he sat them down on the counter and picked up the mail he had brought in earlier, remembering that he hadn't even glanced through it. He flipped through each one, mentally filing bills from junk, until he came to a small postcard-sized card in the middle of the pile. It was plain, with no shipping addresses or even a stamp on the front of it.

Turning it over on its side, he noticed only a few sentences; typed, not handwritten. Putting the rest of the mail back down on the counter, he focused his eyes only on the card.

Have you ever wondered what lies she's told you? What she's doing when you're not looking?

He raised an eyebrow. With no postage, he knew the card must have been slipped through their mailbox along with the other envelopes, not sent through the postage system. He wondered if it was anything like the note that Addy had told him about – and he felt his instinct about the guard being the author was right.

“What a weirdo,” he said to himself.

He flipped the card back over to its plain side once before tossing it right into the trash at his side. He grabbed the glasses from the counter and tucked one into the crook of his elbow to bring his hand up to the light switch.

“Carlos, I've got my eye on you,” he said, looking back at the trash can before flipping off the light.

Chapter 7 – Double Date From Hell

“This is a bad idea.”

Adeline rolled her eyes as she stepped out of the car and onto the pavement, smoothing her dress down.

“It's a bad, bad, bad idea,” Lance repeated as she shut the car door and he pushed the remote on his keychain, locking the doors.

“Would you stop it?” she asked him, stopping in place in front of him. “It's just dinner.”

“A doomed dinner,” he said. “Mark my words.”

“Oh, what are you now, psychic like Stephanie?” she asked with a smile.

“She's not psychic, she's psychotic,” he said. “But this dinner, Ad – it's a bad idea.”

“You said that,” she said, deadpan. “About five million times already.”

He leaned against his car door, his arms crossed. “I have this feeling.”

“That feeling is just my stomach doing flip-flops,” she said. She put her hand on her stomach, hoping it would settle down before appetizers arrived at the table, fearful that the sight of food would have her rushing to the bathroom right away. Lance's flu had only lasted twenty-four hours, but he had been the lucky one; a week later, she still felt lingering effects of it hanging around, especially during the evenings.

“Are you sure it's a good idea for you to be going to dinner feeling the way you do?” he asked, putting his hand on her arm. “You're still not feeling good, I'm not feeling great about this evening...”

“You're just finding any excuse you can to get out of dinner,” she said, grabbing his arm. “Don't try to use me as your scapegoat; I'll be fine. We're going on this date, you unromantic jerk.”

She pulled him, gently but forcefully, to her side and hooked her arm through his.

“I resent that,” he said, pretending to be hurt. “Call me unromantic – I held your hair up for you the other day when you were throwing up. Some appreciation would be nice.”

“Ahh, it's the little things,” she said with a smile. “My Romeo.”

“You know, I really don't like your tone,” he said, looking at her as she smiled at him.

She considered responding to him, but when she looked away, she saw Chris walking toward them.

“Chris,” she said, holding her arms out in his direction. She smiled and looked at him from head to toe, dressed rather dashingly in his button-down shirt and slacks.

“Hello, Addy,” he said, only a slight smile grazing his lips. “It's good to see you. I'm really looking forward to the evening of torture you're putting me through.”

She rolled her eyes before he enveloped her in a hug. When he let her go, he immediately looked over at Lance.

“I told her,” Lance said, shaking his head slightly. “I said, 'Addy, this is a bad idea.' Now you see what I'm talking about, how she listens to me.”

“You,” she said, pointing at Lance as the two of them greeted each other with a half-hearted fist bump. “Zip it. I've had enough of your lip tonight.”

“I feel the love in the air,” Chris said. “If you two are any indication of what it's like to be married – well, consider me off the market.”

“I give up on both of you,” Addy said, looking at the two men with slight smug grins on their faces. “What's wrong with you guys? We're at this swanky restaurant on this beautiful spring night, and you'll have two great women in your company. Can you behave yourselves at all?”

“I think that's asking a bit much,” a voice interrupted her.

Addy turned around slowly, recognizing Melissa's voice.

“Asking that one to behave alone,” Melissa said, pointing at Lance with a smile. “How much can you really expect out of him?”

Chris could only describe himself as stunned. All he knew was that Addy had set him up on what amounted to a blind date – except he was the only blind one in the whole ordeal. To say he hadn't been happy about it was an understatement.

But when he saw her – he forgot why he was ever angry with Addy in the first place. As the two women hugged, he looked her over. Her short blonde hair was pulled back in a half-ponytail with rhinestone studded bobby pins holding back a few stray pieces. She wore a dark gray sweater dress with a pair of dark-washed jeans, a scarf wrapped around her waist as a belt, and black wedge-heeled sandals.

“Hey Mel,” Lance said. “Found a life yet?”

“Hey Lance,” she responded. “Did Addy forget to take you on your walk this morning? Feeling all out of sorts about it?”

Chris couldn't help but laugh.

“Damn,” he said, looking at Lance. “She got you.”

“Yeah,” Lance responded. “She's sugar and spice and everything nice, isn't she?”

“You're only mad because now I have someone on my side,” Addy said, smiling at Mel. “Chris, this is your date for tonight.”

Melissa looked directly over at Chris, almost shyly.

“Hey, I'm Chris,” he said, holding his hand out to her, trying to be polite.

“Chris Kirkpatrick, I know,” she said with a smile, grabbing his hand. “I'm Melissa – Melissa Weston. It's nice to meet you.”

Adeline and Lance looked on as both Chris and Melissa shook hands and held their grip for a few moments as they looked at each other. Adeline walked over to Lance and he felt her reach down and grab his hand, giving it an affectionate squeeze. He looked over and out of the corner of his eye, he saw a smile on her face.

After a few seconds, Chris felt the stares of everyone on him.

“I guess we should go inside, then,” he said, releasing Melissa's hand to reach for the door behind him.

Lance tried to judge his face as Chris held the door open for Melissa, who gladly walked through as Lance hung back with Addy. He didn't have to look over at her to know she was looking at him.

“Don't say it,” he warned. “The night's just started.”

“You saw the way they looked at each other,” she said nonchalantly. “You'll eat your words before the night's over.”

“This is the calm before the storm, baby,” he said as he held the door open for her.

Lance was thankful that they were seated immediately and fairly discreetly near the back corner of the restaurant, only catching the attention of one twenty-something female waitress when she looked directly at him, stared wide-eyed for a few seconds, then turned and walked away quickly. Any other night he would be amused at the reactions of the staff and customers young enough to recognize them; tonight, he had a feeling that Addy's grand plan would only blow up in her face, and he didn't want the extra attention.

“So are you still nervous, Mel?” Addy asked as they sat down to look at their menus after they had ordered their drinks.

“Oh good,” Mel said. “The fact that you asked means you can't see how much my hands are shaking.”

Adeline laughed. “Melissa is apparently a big fan, Chris.”

Chris immediately felt a bad taste in his mouth. “Is that so?”

“I was like sixteen when you guys hit the States,” she said, looking first at Lance then at Chris. “Started with 'I Want You Back,' progressed to 'It's Gonna Be Me' – now I play your Christmas CD from Thanksgiving Day on through New Year's.” She smiled. “Okay, and every other holiday in between.”

“What's your favorite song?” Lance asked, noting Chris's facial expression and trying to avoid a lull in conversation.

“No contest, 'I Thought She Knew',” she responded. “When you guys harmonize, I melt – and Joey's solo...”

“You like Joey, huh?” Lance said, smirking in Addy's direction.

“He always was sort of my favorite,” she said, grimacing in slight embarrassment.

“Well, that's promising Chris,” Lance said, breaking into a full smile as he looked from Chris's unimpressed face over to Addy.

“Chris has always been my next favorite. And I don't love one more than the other,” Mel said, trying to recover, hoping she hadn't hurt her date's feelings. “And Joey's married, so that's definitely a no-go.”

“It's good to know that I only outrank Joey because of a technicality,” Chris mumbled.

Melissa was about to speak, but their waitress brought their drinks to the table and interrupted them asking if they were ready to order – probably just as well, she figured. After they had ordered, Adeline looked up at both Chris and Melissa with a smile on her face.

“Be comforted, Chris,” she said. “From what I hear, you still outrank Lance by leaps and bounds.”

Melissa grinned in Lance's direction. “He moved down even more after I met him and got to know him.”

“Oh, darn!” he exclaimed. “Guess I'll have to live with what I have already.”

“Well damn,” Addy said. “I thought for a second I could unload you onto someone else.”

While the other three laughed and carried on with each other, having a good time, Chris sat back and evaluated. The physical attraction was there, because he found her beautiful – she wasn't some stick-thin, bottle blonde bimbo who could barely form words in his presence. Nor did she appear to be like some of the other women he had dated who wouldn't let him get a word in edgewise. But what turned him off already was knowing she was a fan – he had dated too many of those, and it had never ended well for him.

Talk about the band lulled for a few minutes when Adeline and Lance switched the subject, and he found himself getting back into the conversation and almost having fun when she suddenly stopped after hearing the music in the restaurant change.

“Oh I love this song,” Melissa said as Chris noticed the beat to Justin's 'What Goes Around' come over the speaker. “Is it true that Justin wrote this song about Britney?”

Lance had opened his mouth to say something when Chris stood up from his seat at the table.

“You know guys, I just remembered I have something to do at the house,” he said, feeling annoyed. “Thanks for inviting me out man, I'm sorry I have to bail.”

Lance was slightly surprised, but not by much. He knew this was why Chris's last few relationships hadn't worked out; he was only surprised that it had taken this long for him to find an excuse to leave.

Melissa sat a moment and watched Chris. She swallowed the lump in her throat and tried to put on a smile, but it didn't work.

“Ah, okay. I guess I'll see you around then, Chris.”

It hurt, even though she wasn't sure what she had done to make him leave so suddenly. She wasn't naïve enough to think he would immediately fall in love with her – and she wasn't going to apologize for being herself.

Addy looked from Chris over to Melissa, and then to Lance who only sat staring at his drink uncomfortably. Before she could say anything, Chris had turned around and headed out the door.

“Stupid man,” she muttered as she threw her napkin down, scooting out of her chair.

Lance and Melissa only looked on as she walked through the crowd of tables and other diners, trying to keep Chris in her sights as he walked out the door.

“Chris!” she called out when she saw him in the parking lot leaning against his car, cell phone in his hand. She walked up to him with her hands on her hips when he didn't even look at her. “You can't leave.”

“It won't work out, Addy,” he said simply, looking over a text he had gotten. “She's just like the others.”

“How do you know? We were there for fifteen minutes,” she said, pulling the cell phone from his hand and tipping his chin up so he was forced to look at her.

“I have no desire to spend any time with a woman who only likes me as that guy who can harmonize with Lance – or rather, the second choice to Joey.”

“She's nervous, for God's sake,” she responded. “Have you ever considered that someone might not know how to react and how to talk to you because suddenly you're someone she can actually touch and feel and see without barriers or bodyguards? There are millions of girls in this world who, for them, that was a pipe dream ten years ago.”

“So I'm someone real – big deal,” he said as he ran a hand through his hair. “I was real before she met me. I'm not just a celebrity, Addy. I'm a person.”

“She knows that Chris. But you mean to tell me that even in your position, you've never been nervous meeting a celebrity? Ever? What about when you guys recorded with Richard Marx? Or when you performed with Michael Jackson? And don't lie, I saw the home videos of you guys in Europe when you realized No Mercy was in the same city.”

She smiled when Chris didn't meet her stare anymore.

“Yeah, so what?” he said, taking on the tone of a defeated teenager. “Those people were awesome.”

“And so are you, especially to her,” she said. “Here I told her you were the guy that was always nice. And boy did you shoot that one right out of the water.”

“You set her up for disappointment early,” Chris said with a chuckle. “I'm still not sold on the whole thing, but I'll try to make up for being an ass, go back in there and at least finish dinner.”

She smiled and slipped her arm through Chris's as they walked back toward the restaurant.

“Good boy,” she said.

“Bite me, Addy.”

“Sorry, I'm taken,” she said as she smirked and bumped his hip good-naturedly.

She smiled when she saw Lance and Melissa talking to each other, neither paying attention to the comings and goings of anyone else. She gave Mel a small smile when Chris sat back down, and reached for Lance's hand under the table to give it a squeeze.

“It wasn't so important that I can't finish dinner after all,” Chris said, trying to make eye contact with Melissa.

“Yeah? That's good,” she responded, looking away from him. She wasn't sure how to feel, knowing he'd wanted to bail on the whole date over something, and knowing he didn't really have something important at home to tend to. She couldn't help that she was nervous and was trying hard not to say something stupid – which had only led her to say even stupider things. It didn't help that Addy and Lance were along for the ride – like there was an audience and she was on display, waiting for something bad to happen.

Chris was relieved when a few minutes later, in the middle of tense conversation, the waitress came by with their food.

“So, are you used to New York yet, Mel?” Addy asked, hoping it would open up the conversation more.

“Ha. Not sure I ever will be,” Mel responded. “There's so many people, and things to do and see. I have a bucket list of stuff to do and that's only here in the city. I did get brave and go to a Starbucks. I've never been to one before.”

She blushed when three people only stared and blinked at her.

“What rock have you been hiding under?” Lance asked with a chuckle.

“Not all of us want to pay six bucks for coffee we can make at home,” Melissa told him with a smirk.

“Coffee is overrated,” Chris said with a shrug.

“He's the drink snob,” Addy explained.

“Then obviously you've never had one of my White Russians,” Melissa said with a smile. “I had a roommate for a semester that was a bartender on Dickson Street in Fayetteville. I needed some extra money for living expenses and she let me come work with her on the weekends and keep half the tips. Later on, I went to bartending school. You can't taste the coffee in mine.”

“I call bullshit,” Chris said.

“Call it all you want, it's true.”

Lance sighed. He knew that Chris was only looking for a fight now.

“You'll have to prove it,” Chris said.

“You know, I don't have to prove anything. If you don't believe me, that's fine.” Melissa's voice had gone decidedly cool. “I didn't come here looking for your approval, Chris. Get over yourself – go get laid or something.”

Lance's eyebrows raised in amusement as Adeline's jaw dropped.

“I liked meeting you, it was fun, but this...” She gestured between the two of them and gave him a cold look. “This is clearly not going to work. I was nervous, I'm sorry. But now I'm not nervous, I'm actually sort of pissed off. You don't know me, I don't know you, so I can't say if you're doing this to try and feel me out, or whether you're really just an asshole who masquerades as a nice guy.”

She pushed her chair out and looked at Lance and Addy.

“Sorry guys, I really like you, and Addy, I appreciate the thought you put into this night. But I'm going back to my apartment and doing what I wanted to do this evening – sit in my pajamas, eat ice cream, watch Back to the Future and be a dork and quote the entire movie.”

Her gaze went back over to Chris and she hoped it didn't look as sad as she felt. When she looked at him, something was there. She had no idea what it was since he seemed to be two different people – but it was something.

“Addy, I'll call you later this week,” she said as she grabbed her purse and proceeded to walk out of the restaurant.

This time, Adeline didn't bother getting up to go after her friend. She picked up her water glass and took a sip, watching Melissa as she paid for the meal she didn't even eat and walked out the door.

“Wow,” she said as she looked at Chris, who sat in silence. “In the words of a song, you kissed that opportunity bye bye bye.”

Lance, who had been drinking out of his own glass, half-choked. Addy looked at him as he coughed and recovered.

“Sorry,” he finally said. “I couldn't help it. Those puns got a little old after a few years but that – that one was pretty good.”

“You know, I think I will go home after all,” Chris said. “Now I feel like an asshole and a third wheel. You guys can have a nice dinner together, you need it. I'm going to go home and lick my wounds.”

Chris stood up out of his seat and patted Lance on the shoulder as he walked away. Addy sat and picked at her food as she watched Chris repeat Mel's actions – paying for his untouched meal and walking out the door. Listening to Lance's silence, she shook her head.

“Don't say it,” she said, warning him.

“Save room for dessert baby,” he said, “'cause it looks like you're the one eating your words tonight.”

Chapter 8 – Oil and Water

He wasn't sure why he was doing what he was doing. Maybe he had finally gone off the deep end, like his band mates so often accused him of doing.

Chris opened the door and stepped into the lower lobby of Lance's apartment building. Walking directly to the elevator, he pushed the button for the third floor and waited for the doors to open. He wasn't coming to visit with Lance and Addy like usual – neither of them would be home. It was almost six and Lance would still be at the station doing his show. Addy would be out, doing...whatever it was that she usually did when she was working, and probably frantically if he knew her as well as he thought he did.

The elevator finally dinged and the doors opened and he stepped on, thankful it was empty. No, he had no idea what had compelled him to come visit Melissa today.

He had been sitting on his couch in his own apartment. He couldn't find anything interesting on TV. He had perused through his video games but nothing there excited him either. He had picked up his guitar, but the music wasn't compelling him today. He had played with his phone for a while, checked his Facebook and Twitter, and his email twice – nothing could hold his interest for more than five minutes.

Then he had realized he was starting to get hungry – and he had thought of her. Out of nowhere, her face had entered his mind. Before he knew it, he had hopped on his motorcycle and he was here.

Maybe it was guilt. He felt bad that he had ruined their date, for Addy and Lance, but especially for Melissa. He had intended to try to make it work through the night after Addy had convinced him to come back inside, but his mouth had gotten the best of him. In his defense, he was only joking around with her – he thought.

He didn't know anymore. His dating life had been on the edge of the cliff ready to fall over for years. He was so sick of the women who only saw his public face instead of the private one. He loved everything that his career had brought him, including all the fans. He was constantly amazed that even ten years after they had released their last album, the fans had been so continually loyal to them. It was more than any of them could have asked for, and they appreciated it every day.

But did he have to find every single one of them and end up dating them?

He walked down the hall that he had walked several times before, towards Lance's door. It was weird to think that he was in his building, but not with the intent to visit Lance. And this was basically all he knew about this woman – that she lived across from Lance, that she worked part-time at a department store and went to culinary school, and that Addy had become good friends with her. That was it – well, and the fact that she was beautiful and apparently, didn't like him much.

He reached Lance's apartment, 3E, and looked directly across from it – 3F. That was her apartment. Showing up here unannounced today wasn't his plan, but he couldn't exactly call her since he didn't know her number. He didn't know what to expect – he didn't even know if she would be home, since she was a working woman and a student to boot.

Nonetheless, he walked up to her door with one hand stuffed in his jean pocket and one lifted to knock on her door. He stopped when he heard the music, very familiar music, and quietly put his ear to the door.

She was playing 'It's Gonna Be Me' – apparently, very loudly, since he could hear it easily through the heavy door. He smiled.

“What am I getting myself into with this one?” he whispered to himself before lifting his fist again and knocking on her door.

It was a few moments before he heard the deadbolt unlatch and saw the doorknob turn, and she appeared in the doorway – her hair pulled into braided pigtails, wearing a white bandana, in a tank top and jean shorts...dancing and swaying her hips from side to side.

“Oh my God,” she said immediately.

“No hello?” he asked with a smile.

“What are you doing here?” she asked as she pulled the bandana off her head, making stray blonde hairs frizz on top of her head.

“I was in the neighborhood walking by and I heard the music and thought maybe you were having a party without me, cupcake,” he said.

She sighed in frustration.

“Sorry,” he said, smiling at her. “Actually, I came by to see you. I was hungry, and I thought maybe I could make up for the other night by...taking you out for a bite.”

“You,” she said, pointing at him, “want to take me out for a bite?”

“If you're not too busy busting a move,” he said, smiling when she smiled, “yeah. I'd like to.”

“Am I getting Punk'd? Where's Ashton and the camera crew hiding?”

“Funny,” he said as she put one foot out into the hallway and peeked out, looking right and left.

“After our disastrous date the other day, you want to venture out by ourselves and try it again? We couldn't make it work with the model couple there as influences. What makes you think we could do it by ourselves?”

“I want to try to make up for being a jackass the other day,” he said. “That's not who I am, the person that you got to see. Truthfully, I don't know who that was.”

“Well, I'm pretty sure it was you, or Addy has some explaining to do,” she said with a smile.

“Can I at least come in? Or should I get down on the floor and get the groveling over with before Lance gets home? I'd never hear the end of it if he saw me.”

She stared at him and huffed as she leaned against the door frame.

“Fair enough,” she finally said. “Come in.”

She stepped out of the way and opened the door for him – but for a moment, he paused. What was he doing, and why was he doing it again?

“Are you coming in?” she asked after standing there with the door open for a few seconds, watching him stand silently.

“Yeah,” he said, brushing off his uncertainty – of which he wasn't even certain why he was uncertain. “Yeah, I'm coming in.”

He walked through the door and she closed it after him, stepping away from it and him as soon as it had latched and she locked the deadbolt again. He looked around the house and was taken aback by how empty it was. Addy had mentioned something about it to Lance, and in turn Lance had mentioned something about it to Chris, calling Melissa “mysterious”. All Lance knew about this girl was that she had simply showed up at his apartment one day, walked in like she owned the place, and Addy had taken to her immediately.

For that reason, Lance didn't entirely trust her. Chris knew that Lance had his feelers out on this girl, which was rare for Lance, who was a generally trusting person because of his Mississippi roots and Southern raising. At first, he thought it was because Lance was protective of his fiancee. After everything she had been through, he didn't like anybody messing with her. He didn't particularly like the idea that Melissa had walked into his apartment the way she did, either.

Now, he was feeling a little mystified himself.

“I'm sorry about the music,” Melissa said, walking quickly over to the counter where her cell phone laid. “I listen to it when I clean the house. You're probably sick of hearing your own songs by now.”

“Nah,” Chris lied. “It's cool. It's kind of amusing, actually.”

“It's amusing that you still have devoted fans?” Melissa asked defensively as the music turned off.

“No, it's amusing that as a fan of the band in a city of like eight million people, you managed to find yourself living across the hall from one member and went out on a date with another.”

“Yeah, lucky me,” Melissa mumbled.

“Most fans would think they'd died and gone to Heaven, you know,” Chris said. “You're not really acting like a fan.”

“You didn't like the date we had the other day because I acted too much like a fan. Now you show up at my apartment unannounced and bitch because I'm not acting like a real fan.”

“Who said I didn't like our date?” Chris asked. “You're the one who walked out on me.”

“You walked out on me first!” she said with a scoff.

“Well, that's kind of what I came over for,” he replied. “To explain.”

“I thought you came over to be the good guy and take me out for a bite,” she said with a smile, her arms crossed over her chest.

“I did. At least I think I did. They're not mutually exclusive.”

“Mmm-hmm,” she mumbled.

“I'm sorry that we got off on the wrong foot,” he said.

“We got off on the wrong foot because yours was stuck up your ass all night.”

“Hey,” he said defensively. “Mine may have been stuck up my ass but yours was stuck in your mouth all night. Why did you have to bring up all that stuff about the band? You couldn't help yourself?”

“Excuse me?” she said with a scoff. “Who brought it up? I believe it was Lance and Addy – Lance and Addy couldn't help themselves. All I said was that I liked you guys when I was a teenager, and I liked a few of the songs.”

“And that Joey was your favorite,” Chris said with a smirk.

“Oh, is somebody a little jealous?” Melissa said patronizingly. “Afraid that Joey is stealing a little of your thunder?”

“Jealous,” Chris said, scoffing. “Jealous of Joey, me? What would I have to be jealous of Joey over?”

“Why can't you just say 'no'?”

He looked up to see her smiling knowingly at him. She could call his bluff, and it had been a long time since he had met a woman who could do that...or had the guts to.

“This isn't about me and Joey, Weston,” he said. “This is about you and me.”

“That was a pathetic attempt at a save. And you and me? We had one date. Don't go doodling our names all over your notebook there, Kirkpatrick.”

“You are the most frustrating woman on the East Coast.”

“Then why did you come here again?” she asked as she puttered around her kitchen, him watching her from a few feet away. “You and I both know that you didn't come here to be 'the good guy'. I'm nothing more to you than a bad blind date. From what I hear, you've had plenty of those – and you don't do check-ins on any of them.”

As they watched each other, waiting for the other's next move, he realized he was losing the battle of wits. So far she had called him on all his bad behavior – for example last night, when she had told him where he could stick it before she had walked out on him. That had even left Lance and Addy speechless. No woman he had gone on a date with had ever spoken to him like that, and as frustrating as it was, it was also refreshing.

Maybe that was why he was here, why he felt the need to randomly show up. The thing that should be the least attractive about her, was the most attractive.

“You're a cool person,” he said, only half-lying to her. “Just because our date didn't work out, doesn't mean we can't be friends.” He watched her raise an eyebrow. “Or at least be civil to each other. We're both friends with Lance and Addy. We're going to have to see each other again at some point. We're going to have to learn to get along.”

“We're not their divorced parents, Chris,” Mel said, her sarcastic attitude softened. “It's not like you have to be civil to me when you drop them off at the end of the weekend. I see Addy every day in the hall and a couple extra times a week to have lunch or go for a coffee. We don't have to get along. We never even have to see each other again.”

Hearing her say that, Chris felt an unexpected disappointment.

“Is that what you want?” he asked. “To never see me again?”

She sighed. “Chris, we're oil and water.”

Oil and water – two things that never mixed, despite how much you tried.

“We're two different people,” she continued. “Different personalities, different expectations, different lives. Two people on totally different life paths. It would never work.”

“We could try,” he said. “Opposites attract, right? Look at Addy and Lance.”

She chuckled. “Is that your idea? That we'll be the new Addy and Lance?”

“Well, no, I--” he stuttered. “I want to be friends.”

“Addy and Lance are...cute,” she said. “Cutesy. So much that they make you want to gag sometimes. I can see why the idea is appealing to you – how they hated each other at first because they were so different, and then they fell in love...but Chris, they were way more similar than you think.”

It was true, he had seen it. Until he had moved to New York a few months ago, he hadn't talked to Lance quite as much as he did now, but they still talked on the phone every week or so. He'd heard the whole story from the beginning – from Stephanie giving her two week notice to the night that Adeline had arrived in New York. He had giggled and bit his tongue at Lance's accounts of her being “a pain” and “difficult to work with”. And he had listened as Lance progressed from saying nothing good about her to confusion over his feelings for her.

“You don't think maybe we could have more in common than you think we do?” he asked. “We haven't even gotten a chance to talk.”

She paused, and as she took dishes off her counter and dipped them under the soapy water in her sink, he saw her consider it for a few moments. He had hope until she looked up at him with an uncomfortable smile.

“You know, I don't have time for this today,” she said. “I've got housework to finish, homework to do, errands to run...it's a nice offer, but I'll have to take a rain check on that bite.”

His first reaction was to argue, pull out his phone, and offer to order in a pizza and help her get some of her housework done while they waited – but before he could reach for his pocket, she had already grabbed a dish towel to wipe her hands and started walking towards the door.

“Yeah, okay,” he said, recognizing that he was being kicked out by her. “Can I at least give you my number? You can call me when you're ready to cash in that rain check.”

“Sure,” she said, taken a bit by surprise. “Yeah. Let me get a pen and paper.”

She disappeared down the hall and into another room, which gave him a chance to look around again. It occurred to him that Addy hadn't lied when she said the apartment was lacking certain details that made the apartment a “home” - no pictures. No wall hangings. No stray books laying out on the side table – and no side table either. The lonely, pathetic looking silk house fern sitting by the door was the only sign of personalization she had made to the apartment.

Chris was no interior decorator himself, and his apartment still lacked a bit of finesse that he knew he could put into it. But even living what he thought was true “bachelorhood” in an apartment that wouldn't make it to the pages of Good Housekeeping anytime soon, he at least had a few pictures out on the walls and surfaces, some personal effects that he had collected over the years, and a few books laying out that he never read but made him feel smarter. Everybody who walked into his apartment knew that he hadn't touched that copy of Moby Dick in years, but having it out for people to know that was what made the apartment his apartment.

Looking around her apartment, it seemed to him that a lot of her life was missing, especially if she didn't have anything from it out for display. It was almost as if she had tried to erase any existence she had before she moved to New York.

“Sorry that took so long.” She reappeared from the hallway and took him by surprise, making him turn to look at her. “I had to dig in my drawers for a pen and paper. I guess it's true that handwriting things has taken a backseat to technology these days, even for me.”

She handed him a torn scrap of lined notebook paper and an old ballpoint pen, and he held it against the wall next to her door as he scribbled his name and phone number on it. When he finished, he handed both items back to her.

“There you go. And in case you're thinking about ditching out on me and never calling, remember Weston...I know where you live.”

He smiled at her, and as she grabbed the paper and pen from his hand, she looked up at him and smiled back.

“I'll keep that in mind,” she said.

“Then I'll let you get back to your housework and errands,” he said. He put his hand on the doorknob, feeling that if he let himself out, the sting of knowing she was kicking him out for no reason might hurt less.

“Yeah,” she said, a hint of regret in her voice. “I should get back to those things. I have a lot to get done.”

He opened the door and stepped out while she took the door in her hand. He assumed she would try to rush him away by saying a hasty goodbye and nearly shutting the door in his face, but to his surprise, she casually leaned against the door frame as he hung in the hallway beyond her threshold.

“I stay pretty busy,” she said, pushing a stray chunk of her bangs away from her eyes, “so it might take me a while to get back to you about dinner. I'll have to find a free minute.”

“Well, the offer stands for dinner, lunch, breakfast...” When she lifted an eyebrow and smiled, he cleared his throat. “Okay. Not breakfast.”

“Not breakfast,” she repeated.

“That would be a bit awkward.”

“A bit,” she said with a nod.

“But we could also order in,” he said. “You know, if you're too tired to go out or you have homework to do, or you'd rather stay in. I know some great Chinese and pizza places...”

“Chris,” she said, stopping him. “Don't worry. I'll call.”

“Right,” he said. “Sorry.”

Both of them paused a moment in the hallway, not sure whether they should say goodbye or not. From down the hallway, the elevator dinged and the doors opened, and both looked down the hall to see Addy making her way towards them, her hands full with papers and a couple grocery bags as usual.

“Hey Mel, hey...Chris,” she said, shocked to see the two of them within the same vicinity of each other.

“Hey Ad,” Chris responded.

“Nice to see you here, Chris.”

“Just stopped by to say hello, nothing special,” he said.

Addy grinned and looked over at Mel to see her grinning as well, trying to hide it. Addy could see that Chris was nervous, and both of them were up to something.

“Well, that's great,” she said. “You want to stay and have dinner with us? When Lance gets home from the station we're grilling steaks and potatoes and vegetables.”

“I was getting ready to leave, but thanks for the invite anyway,” Chris said. “I've got a few things to do before I head home, so I'll leave you ladies to whatever it is you have to do.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets and gave Melissa a side look.

“I'll be waiting for that call.”

Addy watched as Mel nodded and Chris walked away down the hall, only lifting his head and sneaking the two of them a quiet “goodbye” as he stepped onto the elevator.

“Did I miss something?” she asked as she looked at Mel.

Mel only sighed and shrugged in response. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

“Hmm,” Addy said, looking in the direction that Chris has walked off and shrugging slightly. “Oh well, who knows what's going through that head of his. Maybe it's best if we don't know.” She shuffled the things in her arm to dig in her pocket for her house keys. “If you want though, you can join us for dinner.”

“Oh, I'll probably have something delivered. I still have a lot of things to do around the house.”

Addy was about to respond when her arm tipped and the mail on top of her paper pile fell to the floor as she retrieved her keys.

“Damn it.”

“Let me get that for you,” Mel said.

“Thanks.” Addy sat one of her grocery bags next to the door to lighten her load as she inserted the key into the lock. “I swear, I need to get organized better. I'm a mess right now.”

“Addy, what's this?”

Addy looked behind her at Mel, holding most of the mail in one hand and a small white card in the other.

“It says 'You've ignored me too long, now someone will pay',” Mel said.

Both girls remained silent, too stunned to say anything. Addy removed her hand from the doorknob and sat her grocery bag down on the ground next to the one she had already sat down. She wandered the few steps over to Mel, grabbing the card from her hand. It was the same kind of typed note that she had received before, without the rose.

This was a threat. Lance had been wrong – and now she was worried.

“Oh my God,” she whispered.

Chapter 9 – Coffee With A Side Of Murder

“So...did you tell him?”

Addy stirred two packages of sugar into her coffee takeout cup, watching the granules slowly disappear into the black liquid.

“Tell who, what?”

“Lance,” Melissa said. “About the new note.”

“Are you kidding me?” Adeline scoffed. “No way. He'd blow his top. You wanna see that happen? No, it's best if he doesn't know about it.”

Both girls replaced the lids on their cups and walked off to sit down at one of the cafe's round tables.

“Are you sure that's the best idea?” Mel asked as she threw her light jacket over the back of the chair. “Addy, that was a threat. That's scary stuff.”

“He'll just tell me that it's someone playing around again. In fact, he's probably right. Look at all the strange stuff that's happened the past couple of years – I told you about the tire thing, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, it's probably like that. Like when our apartment got broken into – they destroyed some stuff and inconvenienced us, but nothing came of it.” She swished the cup around in her hand once again. “Besides, even if I told him, what would he do about it?”

“I'm fairly confident knowing what little I do about Lance that he would wrap you in bubble wrap and never let you leave the apartment again,” Mel said.

“Exactly. And I can't hide away because some creep thinks it's funny to leave me twisted little love letters,” Addy said.

“Well, that's true,” Mel responded. “But I still think you should show the note to Lance and then the two of you should go to the police. The first one was left inside your apartment, Ad. Doesn't that scare you?”

“Of course,” she responded. “But what can I do? If I move, whoever it is will probably find me. We changed our locks – again – but the notes will show up in other places.”

“Like the mailbox.”

“Exactly.”

“But you should still go to the police,” Melissa said.

“What would they do about it, Mel?” Addy asked. “They'd tell me to change my locks, lock my doors and windows every night, and be aware of my surroundings – all things that I already do. Things that all women in New York already do.”

She wouldn't admit it out loud, but since Mel had found the new note the night before, Adeline's senses were heightened. That night while making dinner, she had toyed over whether to tell Lance about it. In the end, the minute he walked through the door, her gut told her not to say anything. She knew what his reaction would be – he would pretend not to be concerned so as not to worry her and tell her again that it was all a harmless prank. But he would be protective of her, with his senses heightened as well, and encourage her not to leave the apartment – and she couldn't stand the thought of becoming a prisoner in her own home if there was no reason to worry.

So she had tucked the note in her purse, right along with the other one, for safe keeping.

“Enough about all of that,” she said as she watched Mel take a drink of coffee. “Quit trying to avoid it like you think I'm not going to ask – why was Chris at your apartment last night?”

Mel sighed. “The hell if I know. He's a weirdo.”

“Stop it,” Addy chuckled. “You don't think that. Tell me the truth.”

“I don't know, what can I say?” Mel asked, throwing an arm up. “He said he came to apologize.”

“And did he?”

“Well yeah,” Melissa said, “but that's not what he came for.”

“But if he said that's what he came for, and he did apologize, how can you be sure that's not what he came for?”

“Because he's not like that. Because he came to annoy me again, like he did on our date.”

“Well at least Lance and I had a lovely time after the two of you left,” Adeline said with a smile as she took a sip of her coffee. “You don't give Chris enough credit, Mel. He's a good guy. He's sweet, goofy, funny, caring...”

“How much is he paying you?” Mel asked with a smirk.

“Funny,” Addy responded. “He really is. You got to see Chris's annoying side. Well, his other annoying side – the less charming one. Even Lance said that wasn't like Chris after you both left.”

“So in other words, it was me?” Mel said. “Fantastic.”

“Actually, it's probably not you at all, it's probably all the women that came before you,” Addy said.

“And exactly how many women would that be?”

“It's not like that, Mel. Chris hasn't had the best luck in dating lately. The women he's been dating are only interested in one thing – his status. For fame, for money...they didn't care about him, they only cared what he could get them, where he could take them. He wasn't a potential boyfriend – he was a potential bragging right.”

“So he takes that out on me?”

“Well...wouldn't you be slightly soured on dating if you were nothing but a dollar sign to men?” Addy asked with raised eyebrows.

Both girls went silent as they drank their coffee. After Addy lowered the cup from her mouth, her lips twisted in vague disgust. Melissa watched as she rested her hand on her stomach and closed her eyes.

“Are you still getting sick?” she asked her friend.

“Only sometimes,” Addy responded. “I have good days and bad days. Some days I can barely make it out of bed; some days, I'm fine until I smell food.”

“You should go to a doctor.”

“So Mr. Broken Record tells me,” she said. “Every single day.”

“Maybe you should listen.”

“Maybe I should make it to the engagement party next week first. I have so much to do and I'm running out of time. In fact, I should get going, because it's going to be a late night. I'll be lucky if I'm home before eight.”

Addy stood up and gathered her bag and coat, throwing it over her arm as she grasped her cup tightly, planning to throw away the vile stuff as she walked out of the door. Mel mumbled a goodbye to her and she walked off.

“Addy, wait.”

Addy stopped a few steps away from the table and turned to look at Melissa, who had turned in her chair to look back.

“You told me that the tires and the time your apartment was broken into...” She stopped and let her voice trail as she thought. “You told me those were both your ex-husband's doing. You told me they weren't someone playing around. And something did come from them – your husband spying on you.”

“What are you getting at, Mel?” Addy asked.

“Please,” Melissa whispered. “Go to the police.”

What stunned Adeline was the fearful look on Melissa's face. It was what made her hang back the extra few seconds, wanting to ask her why, but she decided not to. She could only look down at her feet as she walked away towards the door to start her hectic day, hoping this wouldn't weigh too much on her mind.

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Adeline threw her bag over her shoulder and sighed as she walked toward the lobby door. She had been out much later than she had ever planned tonight, and it was by far one of the most exhausting days she'd had since they had returned to New York. It was nearing ten at night, and even though she hadn't had dinner yet, she was ready for a long, hot soak in the bath and looking forward to slipping into her pajamas and into her bed. She was ready to end this day.

As she opened the door her only thought was how much she wanted to take off her shoes – but the minute she stepped into the lobby, her mind jumped to something else.

Usually at this time of night, most of the tenants were in their apartments relaxing and getting ready for bed, and it was empty – but tonight, a small crowd had gathered inside the lobby, all seemingly staring in the same general direction.

The first thing she noticed were the two police officers in front of the crowd, keeping them back. The second thing she noticed when she looked over was Lance.

“Addy!”

Mel appeared, from beside Lance but conveniently hidden behind him, already in her t-shirt and pajama pants. When she yelled Addy's name, Lance looked over. Both of them started walking over to her quickly.

“Oh Addy,” Mel said.

“Thank God you're home, you were out so late I was getting worried,” Lance said.

She was so confused and shocked, she couldn't speak for a few moments; she could only stand there, wondering why they seemed so worried about her.

“What...what happened?” she asked, looking between the two of them. “Why are there cops here? Why is everyone standing in the lobby in their pajamas?”

Lance looked from Addy to Mel as if asking her a question, but no words came out. Melissa's mouth opened, but the only response she gave him was a gentle shake of her head.

“Addy, we should go upstairs,” Lance said. “You're tired, let's get out of here and talk about it up there.”

“Lance can run you a bath, I can scrounge us up some dinner,” Melissa said. “We'll all hang out and have kind of a sleepover.”

“Sounds fun, right?” Lance asked.

It then occurred to her that they were playing her like a fiddle. There was no way that Lance would describe a sleepover with Mel “fun”. Why were they all of a sudden hanging on her, like she was a child? They were trying to distract her and dodge all the questions she asked.

“What's going on, Lance?” she asked forcefully. “Why are the cops here?”

“Let's go up to the apartment and we'll talk about it there,” he said again. “You don't need to be around all these people.”

“Fine, you won't tell me,” she said, looking directly at Lance. Then she turned to Melissa. “What about you? You want to tell me what's going on, or will I have to walk over there and see for myself?”

Melissa said nothing; only shook her head and stared at Addy, begging her not to with her eyes.

“Fine,” Adeline whispered.

Before he could stop her, she ripped her arm away from Lance's grasp and quickly walked away from them, hearing them behind her repeatedly beg her not to go any further. She pushed her way through the crowd of tenants, making it all the way to the yellow police tape before one of the officers stopped her by the shoulders.

It was long enough to see it; to see what the crowd had gathered for, staring into the security office of the lobby, watching even more officers and men in suits hanging around looking down at the floor. It was long enough to see that the crowd had gathered to watch their own real-life version of CSI unfold in front of their eyes.

It was long enough to see all the blood.

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All she knew for sure was that she had only seen it for a second before Lance had put his arms around her and he and Mel had dragged her toward the staircase. The elevator was shut down for the time being so the police could check it for fingerprints and evidence. It felt like she would never make it up those stairs in time to make it to the bathroom.

The sight of blood usually didn't make her sick. But there was something about it being so close and right in front of her that threw her already queasy stomach into turmoil. She had only seen it for a second – but she would be lucky if she could ever forget it.

The minute she stepped outside of their bathroom door, they were waiting for her.

“Are you okay, honey?” Melissa asked.

She only walked past them into the living room, Lance following immediately after with Melissa following cautiously behind. She didn't know how to answer that question. Of course she wasn't okay. How they were okay was beyond her. Did they see the same thing she did?

She sat down on the couch and hugged a throw pillow to her chest as Melissa sat down next to her and put her hand on her arm comfortingly.

“I'll get her some water,” Lance said to Melissa quietly.

Addy saw her nod as he left the room, before she turned to her.

“Are you okay?” Melissa repeated.

“I guess you don't have to worry about me calling the police anymore,” Addy whispered before she curled into the couch.

The rest of the time, the two of them sat silent. A few minutes later, Lance walked into the room with a glass of water and sat it on the table in front of Addy, before scooting her over to sit next to her. As he got himself seated, she burrowed her head into his chest.

“Who was it?”

Instinctively, she knew; she didn't have to ask. The person lying dead on the floor in the pool of blood was turned completely away from her so she couldn't see a face. She could see hints of dark hair, but there was so much blood that it could have been staining. She couldn't tell the skin color because the body was still in uniform. It could have been any one of the guards – but deep down, she knew.

“Addy...”

“Who was it?” she asked forcefully.

Lance sighed. “It was Carlos.”

Even though she knew, hearing it was a blow to the chest.

“Oh God,” she said as she immediately buried her head deeper into his chest and sobbed.

“When I came home at eight, the security supervisor was still hanging around the main lobby,” he said. “I said hi to him and we talked for a couple of minutes. Carlos was hanging around downstairs, too, so I said hi to him. I grabbed our mail and then came upstairs, thinking you would be home soon. I started dinner because I knew you had a late night and you'd be stressed. I thought I could surprise you. Around 8:30, an alarm started going off on the second floor...”

“Lance,” Mel interrupted, a scolding tone in her voice. “Are you sure this is a good idea, telling her all of this? Look at her.”

“Like keeping it from her is going to make her feel any better,” he said.

The two of them exchanged a heated look before Melissa finally backed down.

“Mel and I heard it from up here,” he continued. “We both walked out of the apartments and stood in the hallway for a few minutes wondering if we should go down and check to make sure everything was okay. But after a couple of minutes, the alarm stopped, so we stood around a few more minutes. Then the security supervisor came up to walk the hall and stopped to tell us that one of the emergency exit doors had been triggered. He had run up to check on it before he left for the night.”

“He said not to worry,” Mel interjected. “He thought maybe a visitor or a tenant had accidentally gone through that door and triggered the alarm.”

“Mel and I both went back inside. But it was about thirty minutes later that one of the neighbors came and knocked on the door. She told me that she had seen cop cars outside the window, in the parking lot, and she wondered if I knew anything about it. By then, it seemed like everyone knew because everyone was going downstairs to see what the commotion was. I got Mel and went down, and that's when we saw it.”

“Addy,” Mel said, “I told him about the new note. I'm sorry. I thought after what happened, he should know.”

“I'm a little rusty on my Law and Order speak but I think I heard he was shot in the head once, execution style,” he said. “It was quick, Addy. He didn't feel anything.”

“It's all my fault,” Adeline cried. “I ignored the first note. I should have done something. Carlos was killed because of me.”

“Honey, what could you have done?” Mel asked, rubbing her hand over Addy's back. “It's not like you could write back and say that you were listening.”

“You're not to blame, baby,” Lance said, running his hand through her hair. “If you're to blame, I'm to blame, too. I got a second one, one that I never told you about. I didn't want you to worry more, so I threw it in the trash.”

“Lance told me how he thought it was Carlos who was sending them,” Mel said softly. “You both thought it was a harmless prank. There was nothing you could have done to stop this.”

For the next half hour, all Lance and Melissa could do was try to console her, trying to convince her that the situation was out of her control. After a while she seemed to calm down a bit, and Lance walked Melissa to the door when she decided to go back to her apartment and attempt to get some sleep after the rough night.

All Lance could do after Melissa left was try to make Addy as comfortable as he possibly could, and try to keep her calm. He knew she wouldn't be able to sleep being as shaken up as she was, and in turn that meant he wouldn't be able to sleep since he didn't want to leave her up alone. So he accepted his fate for the night, turned the television onto something he thought he could stomach watching, and excused himself to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee for the long night ahead.

Chapter 10 – The Nightmare Is Only Beginning

Neither of them got much sleep that night, as he had predicted. Lance sat up in the living room watching whatever he could find on television that looked decent. By two in the morning, all the good shows had turned into nothing but cheesy infomercials, until he found a Golden Girls marathon. Addy didn't complain and he was too tired to care what he was watching at that point, so he left it on until it had run its course.

By the time the sun started to come up outside his balcony, she had dozed off on top of him. Feeling his stomach starting to grouse at him, he moved her as carefully as he could. It took several minutes, him stopping each time she would stir and sigh and bury her head deeper into his chest. A few times, he simply stopped to look at her. If she were awake and looked in a mirror, she would tell him that she looked horrible; she had pulled her blonde hair up into a makeshift bun in the middle of the night that was now falling out of place, her mascara was smudged from sleep and tears, his oversized shirt that she was wearing rumpled over her. If she saw herself, she would groan, say how awful she looked, and voice her need for a shower.

But to him, she was still beautiful. It was nice to see her dressed up, but she was equally as beautiful when she wasn't trying to be – and he hated to see her the way she was now.

He hadn't taken it as seriously as he should have. He had told her to ignore them and he had done the same. He'd thought it was Carlos playing a harmless secret admirer's game, trying to win Addy's affections in addition to her friendship.

The poor man probably never saw it coming; never saw what he was falling into.

He reached into the cabinet to grab his cookware, and into the fridge to grab a carton of eggs and the last slices of bacon out of the package. Instead of starting them right away, he reached for the coffee and started the morning pot to brewing. These days, it felt to him like both of them lived on coffee, but he filled a cup quickly as he filled the toaster with slices of bread and started the bacon to sizzling.

He had finished scrambling eggs and was putting them on a plate for himself along with a few strips of bacon and the toast when he heard feet shuffling into the kitchen.

“There's my ray of sunshine,” Lance said, watching a zombie-like Adeline walk into the kitchen. “Feeling any better this morning?”

“No,” she said, her hand rubbing her face and tired eyes. She looked at him again when she noticed he was at the stove. “You're cooking?”

“Boy, you didn't think I could do my laundry at first, now you don't think I can cook,” he said. “What do you think I am?”

Instead of giving a response, she leaned against the counter next to him. Her arms crossed against her chest, she looked down at the linoleum floor. Not even a single witty comment from her mouth about how she didn't think he was capable of doing the simplest things in life for himself.

“Did I wake you up?” he asked, taking another sip of his coffee.

“No, I...” She paused, briefly looking away from him. “...I woke up from a bad dream.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” she said.

Normally, he would have pressed the issue – but this time, he knew better. Instead, he held out the plate in his hand toward her, fully dished with food.

“I made breakfast,” he said. “You should eat something.”

“God, no,” she said, holding out her hand and turning away from the food. “I feel like I'm going to throw up looking at it.”

“Thanks for the compliment, I'm not that bad of a cook,” he said with a smile, setting the plate back down on the counter top. “Addy, seriously, it's time to see a doctor. It's been several weeks; it's not the flu, I was over it in a day. Something's wrong and you need to find out what it is.”

“It's not that bad,” she said.

“Not that bad? Addy, you can hardly eat anymore because your stomach is so upset. When you can eat, you only keep it down half the time. You're so tired; you can sleep ten hours a night and still be exhausted the whole day.”

“Lance, I said it's not that bad!”

Her sudden agitation and the way she raised her voice to him caught him off guard. He had to admit that she was anything but unshakable and could get quite flustered at times – but it was nothing like her to raise her voice to him like she did, seemingly unprovoked.

“I'm sorry,” she said. He could immediately see the guilt and confusion she felt. “Lance, I'm sorry.”

“It's okay,” he responded, turning back to the stove. “If you don't want to eat, you don't have to.”

“It's not about that,” she said. “I...I didn't sleep very well last night.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” he said quietly.

“I saw things,” she said. “In my sleep. In my dreams. Things that I wish I could un-see.”

He glanced over at her. He wished he could change things for her. She had led a traumatic life, once calling herself “damaged”. He wouldn't wish what they had seen on anybody, but she especially shouldn't have had to see what she had the night before. It was one thing to know somebody who died in a violent way – it was a different thing entirely to have to see the scene right in front of your eyes.

“Want to try to stomach some coffee?” he asked in an attempt to change the subject.

“Yeah, sure,” she said with a small shrug of her shoulders.

As he reached across the counter for a mug and started pouring her cup, she grabbed the closest reflective object – the chrome toaster – and reluctantly looked at her image in it.

“Ugh,” she groaned. “Look at me. I look awful. I need a shower.”

Lance laughed, and she looked away from her reflection to look at him.

“What's so funny?”

“Nothing.” He turned to look at her, holding the mug of coffee out to her which she gladly took from him. “Addy, don't ever change. I love you exactly the way you are.”

“Um, okay – I think,” she said.

She took her mug to the table and sat down next to him as he sat his breakfast in front of him. She tried not to watch as he ate; actually, she could feel her stomach starting to protest against her not eating with a light rumbling, but the sight of the fluffy eggs and greasy bacon made her stomach twirl.

“I'm worried about the party on Friday,” she said, blowing on the hot coffee with her lips before taking her first sip.

“The engagement party?” he asked after swallowing a forkful of scrambled eggs. “Why?”

“Well, I'm worried about how this is going to affect it. Maybe we should call everybody and cancel.”

“I don't see why we would do that.”

“Lance, it's a formal party,” she said. “Do you want our guests traipsing through this apartment building when this has happened?”

“It didn't happen in our apartment,” he said. “Everything happened downstairs in the lobby. What's the big deal?”

“The big deal is that our guests, our best friends, are going to walk through the lobby dressed in their best and the first thing they're going to see is a taped-off office where a man was killed. Not only a man – a security guard. Who will want to come to our engagement party to have fun knowing what just happened here?”

“Addy, our friends will understand,” he said. “They know we didn't intend for this to happen. Besides, the office is locked up and not being used until the police clear it from being a crime scene. Our guests will never have to see anything. You're worrying for nothing, baby.”

“I think it would be better to cancel the whole thing and reschedule it for next month, so the air can clear a little, that's all.”

“If it were up to you we'd cancel our whole lives and reschedule them for next month.”

Her head popped up to look at him.

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing,” he said, looking down at his plate before putting another fork of eggs into his mouth. “I said nothing. Look, let's keep the party the way it is unless we absolutely have to cancel, okay? We've spent so much time planning it and our friends are looking forward to it – you remember that Justin and JC are flying in all the way from Los Angeles to come in and you'll have to pick them up from the airport on Friday afternoon, right?”

“Yeah,” she said, setting her mug back down on the table and shoving it away from her as she scooted her seat out and stood up. “I remember, and I'll be there to pick them up. Fine, we'll keep the party the way it is. You know, Lance, I'm going to go lay back down. Don't bother me.”

“Addy--”

Picking up on her angry tone, he reached out in an attempt to grab her arm before she walked away from the table, but she maneuvered so that she was out of his reach.

“Come on, Ad, I'm sorry.”

Watching her walk out of the kitchen and disappear into the living room, he rolled his eyes at himself.

“I should have my foot surgically stuck in my mouth,” he said to the silence. “It'd save me the time of doing it myself.”

She laid down in the comfort of their bed, but she couldn't sleep. An hour or so had passed, but she still had the dreams in her head, in addition to the anger that she felt now.

Her concerns were valid, at least to her. They had planned a formal party because they had never celebrated their engagement, and it was the first time they would be getting all their friends together at the same time. They had wanted it to be special, something they would remember forever and look back on as one of the best celebrations they ever had next to their wedding.

She didn't want her guests to remember the party only because there was a murderer on the loose around their apartment building.

“Addy?”

Her thoughts were interrupted by him peeking into the door. She lifted her head from the pillow to look at him.

“I know you hate me and told me not to bother you, but--” He lifted a hand to show her a yellow mailing envelope in his hand. “--someone left this by our door. It's addressed to you.”

“Did you order something?”

“No, I figured it was something you had ordered.”

As he reached her side of the bed, she pushed the covers off and sat up, tearing into the yellow envelope as soon as he handed it to her.

“I didn't order anything,” she said quietly as the flap opened and she pulled out a folded white paper.

I hope you'll forgive me, my love. He threatened to come between us.

She felt sick to her stomach as she sat the paper off to her side on the bed, feeling something hard and plastic inside the envelope. She turned it upside-down and as soon as the plastic ID card fell out onto the bed, the haunting face of her security guard friend stared back at her.

“Lance...”

“Don't touch it,” he said. “I'm calling the cops.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Within the next hour, the apartment was crawling with police. She sat on the couch, curling her arms up against her couch wrapped within a button-up sweater, hoping she wouldn't throw up.

They had asked her more questions than she had answers for – did she see who delivered the package with the ID tag? Did she have any enemies? Did she know the murder victim personally?

“I'm sorry, Ms. James.” The man in front of her had introduced himself as Detective Joe Abrams, the lead investigator in the murder case. “I know this is taking a while and it's been hard for you. I only have a few more questions for you.”

The detective looked to be Hispanic and in his mid-30s to her, with a receding hair line and the typical pressed business-like suit, wearing too much cologne. Lance was too busy being interrogated himself by Abrams' partner in a separate corner of the room, so he hadn't been able to lend any support.

“You say you've been receiving threatening notes like this,” the detective said. “How long have you been getting them?”

“Three weeks, maybe a little more?” she said with a shrug.

“How many were there before this one?”

“Two – wait, no, three,” she said. “I got the first one in the apartment while Lance was gone, he got the second and threw it in the trash, and the third was left in the mailbox.”

“Have you had any falling-outs with anybody before this started happening?”

“Not really. I don't have a lot of friends. Most of the friends I have are mutual between myself and Lance.”

“What about your ex-husband?” he asked.

“What about him?” she asked. “I mean, we had our problems, but he lives all the way across the country.”

“We should check out all avenues, Ms. James,” he said, writing everything down in his tiny notebook. “What about any of his exes?”

“He has an ex-fiancee, Mackenzie Montgomery,” she said. “She's kind of...different, but I don't know if she's capable of doing something like this.”

“What about any of his fans?” he asked. “Has anybody come up to him for an autograph lately, maybe acted weird and it stuck out in your mind?”

She smiled. “It's been ten years, detective. His fanbase these days is generally too busy changing diapers and shuffling kids to soccer practice. They don't have time anymore to hide under room service carts and chase tour buses.”

He never looked up from his notebook, but smiled, his shoulders shuffling up and down in a quiet chuckle.

“You've got me there, Ms. James.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lance nod and shake the hand of the detective he was talking to before walking over to them. He sat down on the couch next to her silently, gently grabbing her hand in his.

“Well,” the detective continued before shutting his notebook and sticking it inside his jacket, “I think I have all that I need for right now. As it stands now, the two cases look like they're related, so we'll add all of this to our investigation and follow up on the leads we have to see where they go. I might have to come back or call you into my office for more information, but we can cross that bridge when we come to it. If either of you receive any more of these, or think of any other leads that we may have missed today, please call my office as soon as possible.”

He stood up from his seat and flipped a business card out in front of him, which Lance took and briefly looked at.

“I'm sorry that you had to go through this, Ms. James,” he said, holding his hand out to her.

She put her hand into his, letting him guide her into a partial handshake.

“Thank you, detective.”

“Mr. Bass,” he said, turning to Lance and holding his hand out to shake it. “Thank you for your cooperation today. We'll treat this with as much privacy as possible, so it doesn't become a circus for the two of you.”

“We appreciate that,” Lance said, giving the detective a firm handshake. “Let me walk you guys out.”

She leaned back into the couch and wrapped the sweater tighter around her torso, fighting back tears as the detectives and Lance walked away from her towards the door. Sleep-deprived and feeling sicker than she had in several days, she closed her eyes and let the tears fall freely down her cheeks.

In less than a month, her life had gone from normal and happy to chaotic and an emotional wreck, and she couldn't pinpoint at what point it had actually changed. Her head was swimming with possibilities of who could be stalking them, and despite the fact that there were a few people in her life that had become less than desirable to be around the past year, she couldn't think of anyone who might stoop low enough to stalk her and murder an innocent man.

The idea alone that she was being stalked was enough to throw her into panic. If it was someone in her life that knew her well enough to know her every movement and daily routine, it was somebody that she had interacted with on more than one occasion. There was only a handful of people in her life that she could say were close enough to know her that well – who could she trust?

“This is a nightmare,” she said when she felt the couch cushion sink next to her and his arm wrap around her. “When will it end?”

She opened her eyes to look at him, but he only looked back at her, at a loss for an answer.

“Whoever is sending these to me – they're the one who killed him,” she said. “He was a good man. He had a family, he had friends, people who loved him. What did he do to deserve this? What did I do to deserve this?”

“You didn't do anything,” he said. All he could do was rub his hand over her back. “They have all of the notes and they have the ID now. Surely it has prints or something, some kind of evidence. Whoever sent it – they'll get them. It's their job. This will end soon. It has to.”

The only response she had was to shut her eyes and let more tears fall as he moved her towards him, letting her lean into him. She could only hope that he was right.

Chapter 11 - Impulsive

“Where did I put it?”

Opening the cabinet in front of her for the third time that she could remember and only seeing the same stacks of plates and bowls, Melissa released a frustrated sigh. Every single inch of counter space she had was covered with overflowing bowls of ingredients and baking pans waiting to go into the oven when the food already there was ready to come out.

Donned in her old orange floral print apron and covered in flour dust and dried batter, she was starting to feel panic set in. The sun would be setting in a matter of two hours and she wasn't even a quarter done with the making of the appetizers for the party the next night. At the continued rate she was going, she anticipated being up until well past midnight trying to finish preparations – and then up early to do the rest before she went to work.

“Flour...flour...” She continued opening cabinets, only seeing glasses, cookware, and canned goods behind every cabinet she opened. “I just had it!”

She threw another cabinet door closed and while reaching for another, her elbow caught the edge of a metal mixing bowl, knocking it over and sending it to the floor with a loud clatter. As she was about to let a string of obscenities fly from her mouth, she stopped when she heard a knock on the door.

She wasn't expecting company, especially at this mid-evening hour. Leaving the bowl as it laid and the mess on the counter, she tried the best she could to smooth her slightly frizzed hair and wipe some of the crust off of her apron as she walked to the door and threw it open.

“Oh, it's you,” she said when she saw Chris standing in front of her.

“Well I know I'm not Tom Cruise, but I usually get a 'hey Chris' or something to that effect,” he said.

“Chris, what are you doing here – yet again?” she asked, walking away without inviting him in, knowing he would get the message and welcome himself in anyway.

“I thought maybe you could use some company,” he said, walking through the threshold of the door and closing it behind him.

“I don't really have time for company,” she said, making her way back into the kitchen and picking up the bowl on the way in. “I'm kinda busy here.”

“I see that,” he said as he walked in after her, his eyes moving immediately to the mess over the counters and all over her. “You know you're supposed to eat food, not wear it.”

“Gee, thanks for the tip, Mr. Versace,” she said. Making an attempt to do something with the mess she had made and free up some space to work, she threw a couple of dirty bowls in her sink and dusted a bit of powdered sugar into her hands before she briefly looked up at him. “Meanwhile, I like the Brawny man thing you have going here. I thought plaid button-ups were only for loggers and camping trips these days.”

Chris looked down at his blue plaid button-up shirt he had thrown on over a white wifebeater before leaving the house that evening.

“Oh, this old thing?” he said with a shrug. “Eh. It was clean.”

“I'm sure that's an improvement for you,” she said as she smacked her hands together over the trash can, emptying her hands of the powder.

“I'm a guy. If it looks to be its original color, doesn't smell like beer, and isn't a step away from growing legs and walking away on its own, it's fair game.”

“You're so disgusting,” she said, not being able to help the smile spreading across her face.

“Maybe,” he said as he walked up next to her at the counter, “but I got you to smile.”

Looking over at him, she saw the smirk on his face and couldn't help but smile a little more. Suddenly realizing that he was standing close enough to her for his arm to slightly touch hers, she felt a warm blush come to her cheeks.

“Chris, you know, I'm super busy,” she said, looking away from him and attempting to look busy cleaning off the counter. “As much as I adore our little zing sessions, I have a lot of work to do if I want to catch two or three hours of sleep tonight.”

“What exactly are you doing here, aside from making a huge mess?” he asked.

“I made the huge mistake of telling Addy that I would cater the hors d'oeuvres for the party tomorrow night. I mean, they paid for the whole shopping list and paid me good money to do the work, more than I make per hour at work, but...I think I underestimated exactly how much work it would be.”

“They're still having the party?” he asked. “I mean, I know Lance mentioned earlier this week that Addy wanted to cancel.”

“Yeah, as far as I know, they're still having the party,” she said, wiping her dusty hands on a dishtowel. “And I'll tell you that if she decides to cancel the party at the last minute...a stalker will be the least of her worries.”

“You'd better not say that too loudly,” he said. “You might become a suspect.”

She smiled, leaning against the counter facing him. “Do you think I'm a suspect?”

“You look pretty suspicious to me,” he said. “You have to watch out for women in flowery aprons. They're the dangerous ones.”

She giggled. “If I'm a suspect, so are you, Christopher. You're a chainsaw away from looking like a murderer.”

“I'm more of an ax kind of guy.”

“Oh, so you have a Lizzie Borden complex?”

“What can I say, I like to get in there and get dirty. I'm a hands-on man.”

She laughed. “This is really sick. We shouldn't be joking about this, it's inappropriate.”

“You started it,” he said.

He looked away from her for a moment, grabbing bowls to help her clean up the counters. He only looked back briefly, expecting an answer from her mouth – perfect timing for a handful of flour to hit him in the face, covering his eyes and sticking to his goatee and black hair.

“I found the flour,” she said with a giggle.

“Nice, Weston,” he said, smiling. “Make an even bigger mess.”

“What can I say?” she said. “I like to get in there and get dirty. I'm a hands-on woman.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“...and then, drunk as a skunk, she yells out 'karaoke' and runs off with Joanna...”

Chris paused to take a breath and let Mel do the same, even though she was laughing so hard it was a struggle.

“...and the two of them climb on his living room table and start belting out this song. Lance and Joey looked on in horror--”

“Oh yeah,” Mel said between laughs. “I'm so sure that they were completely horrified at these two drunk women table dancing in front of them.”

“Okay, so it was less horror for Joey and more intrigue, but I hear that Lance was truly horrified,” Chris said. “Addy's wearing this short skirt and this top that she's about to fall out of, she's the center of attention to all the men in the room – including Joey – and all he wants to do is wrap her in his coat and hide her away until she's less Jenna Jameson and more...Addy.”

“That's actually sort of sweet,” Mel said.

“In a pornographic way, sure,” Chris responded.

Mel laughed again as she reached for the bottle of wine on the table and topped off her glass first, then Chris's.

“I'd have paid good money to have been there,” she said. “Addy's so modest and put-together, I can't imagine seeing her do something like that.”

“Well, wait a few more months until October rolls around,” Chris said, reaching for his wine glass. “Ply her with some whiskey, put on Katy Perry, and you might get to see it in person.”

There was a pause as their laughter died down and they both sipped from their glasses, slipping into silence as they lowered them from their lips.

“This feels weird,” Melissa finally said as she wiped a stray drop of the reddish liquid from the lip of her glass.

“Talking about Addy behind her back?”

“No,” she said with a chuckle. “Talking period. Have you noticed that you've been here for hours and we haven't fought once?”

“Is that...bad?” he asked hesitantly.

“No, I mean...” She stood up from the couch and carried her glass over to the counter, setting it down. She looked up for a moment, then turned toward him, leaning her waist against the edge. “Do you know how intimidating you are to talk to?”

“Me – intimidating?” he said, surprised. “Wow. The last word that people usually use to describe me, and it's the first one you use. Most people think I'm a gentle giant – minus the giant part.”

“Not intimidating in a scary way,” Mel said. “I'm sorry, I know you hate being seen as a celebrity, but Chris – you are. I have a pop star in my living room, sitting on my couch, drinking my wine, and you expect me to talk to you like I'm completely comfortable with it.”

“Well if it makes you uncomfortable, I can reimburse you for the wine,” he joked.

“You asshole,” she said, the slightest smile on her face. “You know what I mean.”

“I know,” he said. “But Mel – I am who I am. I can't help being a celebrity any more than Lance can help it. It's nice to pull out every now and then when you want a better table at a restaurant or you want to get into the VIP room at a club, but sometimes you don't want to be put up on a pedestal. You want to fade into the background like everybody else; you don't want to be treated any differently than you were before people saw you on TV every day.”

“I don't know you any other way,” she said.

“I'm exactly like you,” he said. “We're exactly the same. I once went to school and worked a part-time job for minimum wage; paid the bills, came home, cracked open a beer, and watched television in my pajamas before I went to bed.”

“We are not the same, at all,” she said.

He had been at her apartment for hours. After he had wiped the flour off his face with a towel, he had offered to help her with the rest of the preparations, so she could get them done in time. After only a moment of reluctance, she had agreed – and handed him a frilly, pink lace apron to wear. He had put it on with a smile and excitement, and it had only been the start of hours of laughter.

She was surprised to find that he was actually helpful, not a hindrance like she thought he may be. He had helped her keep the counters somewhat clean to free up room for the next appetizer to be made, had stuffed and rolled multiple egg rolls with a few sexual references to keep the mood light, and was fantastic at dipping cake pops into melted chocolate and rolling them through sprinkles. The best part wasn't the help; it was the company he provided her, the joking around that she once thought was annoying – and it didn't seem so much anymore.

They had finished with all they could before eleven and, enjoying each other's company a little too much to end it for the night, they had opened a bottle of wine and turned a little music on her phone. They had been there for almost two more hours and she knew she would regret it when she had to get up for work at seven, but she couldn't kick him out yet.

“How are we not the same?” he asked.

“We're just...not,” she said. “You're you and I'm me, and we're different.”

“That won't fly with me, Weston,” he said, standing up and walking toward her. “Incomplete answer. I need a valid reason or you're out of the game.”

She wanted to give him a specific reason. In fact, she wanted to give him a complete list of reasons that they were so different. The problem was, she couldn't think of a single reason that was specific enough for him.

“You can't come up with anything,” he said, walking toward her until he was face-to-face with her, her body leaning against the wall. “In fact, we're more alike than you ever planned for. We're more like Addy and Lance than you ever thought, and the idea drives you nuts.”

He leaned the palm of his hand against the wall, leaning into her so his chest was against hers, feeling the rise and fall of her breathing. As he leaned in closer to her, her heart sped up and he could feel her breathing faster.

“It makes you nervous,” he said, looking her in the eyes. “You're intimidated by the Chris Kirkpatrick you read about in the tabloids. You think you're this simple girl; what in the world would Chris Kirkpatrick find attractive in Melissa Weston?”

Lifting a hand to her face and watching her gently flinch at his touch, he ran a finger down from her eye to her cheekbone.

“Definitely not her eyes,” he said. “Or the way she blushes when you look at her. Or the fact that she's not embarrassed to be seen in an old dusty shirt from cleaning or a flowery apron while cooking.”

“Chris,” she said as his hand moved down to cup her chin.

“Or the way she says your name, like nobody else you've met ever has,” he said.

She couldn't have told you what song was playing as he leaned down. She had to remind herself to keep breathing, to keep pushing air through her lungs as his lips closed in on hers and finally met.

Sparks didn't fly when he kissed her. Fireworks didn't go off like Disney World at Christmastime; but she couldn't have imagined that having anybody else's lips against hers could feel more right. It was all too soon that he pulled away and smirked at her.

“See?” he whispered. “Not anything earth-shattering.”

“Not earth-shattering,” she said, blowing a breath of held air out of her mouth.

It was only seconds that they took to regain their composure before their lips met again. Wild and taken over by wine and the unexpected tension and chemistry they felt, it wasn't long before he had her pinned against the wall. She fumbled with the buttons of his shirt from her awkward position, slipping it off his arms and letting it fall to his feet, revealing his tight white undershirt.

She leaned her head to the side to allow his lips to move over her neck, nibbling the sensitive spots as he made quick work of the buttons on her shirt. It fell to the floor along with his before his hand moved to her pants to unbutton the band, leaving her torso exposed to the air.

“Let's take this to the bedroom,” she said as she had her hand on his jeans working the button and zipper with shaky hands.

He disposed of his shirt at the threshold of her bedroom door. The room was dimly lit by a bedside lamp, enough that he could see a few details of her face. He followed her over to her bed, pushing her down on it width-wise, her legs hanging off the side.

She worked her hands through his hair as he climbed on top of her carefully, giving her neck attention before he moved down to her chest.

“Chris,” she said, slightly moaning as his facial hair tickled her chest.

He didn't respond, he only moved his lips between her breasts and down her stomach, opening the band of her pants as he kissed around her belly button. She lifted her hips when he hooked his fingers to allow him to pull them down off her, exposing her blue lace panties matching her bra.

“Wow, Mel,” he said, smiling slightly at her.

She only smiled back at him and hooked her fingers through his pants, lowering them slightly off his hips.

They spent a few minutes nearly naked, with only their undergarments covering them, before she lifted her body and wrapped her arms around to her back, starting to unhook her bra.

“Condoms are in the top drawer,” she whispered through the dark.

Still straddling her with a leg on each side of her body, he reached over to the bedside table and opened the drawer as she removed her bra. In the dark, he had to rummage around in the drawer to feel around for the small foil package, grabbing the first thing that felt like one.

It was then that something stopped him from ripping into it right away. A stab through his gut that he'd never experienced before – a stab of guilt. He was willing, and more than ready – and with her nearly naked in front of him, she obviously was as well. But it had moved so fast – from them hating each other one day to tolerating each other the next, and now all of a sudden they couldn't keep their hands off each other.

He didn't want to send the message that she was worth nothing more than a one-night-stand. He couldn't say that he was in love with her; he could admit that maybe he had feelings for her. But he couldn't guarantee that tonight would lead to anything more.

“Mel,” he said, “I can't do this.”

She had managed to get her bra unhooked, but the straps were hanging down her shoulders and she was holding it up to her chest with one arm.

“What?” she said as she looked at him, shock registering across her face.

“I'm not Joey,” he said, grabbing his jeans off the floor as he struggled in the dark to put them on. “I can't do this one-night-stand thing. Not with you.”

She watched him slip his pants over his hips and button them, feeling a mix of shock and insult, in addition to the vulnerability of being splayed across the bed in nothing but her panties.

“Oh, so suddenly you have standards?” she asked, lifting herself off the bed, clutching her bra to her chest tightly to keep her from exposing herself. “You didn't ten minutes ago when we were in the living room but now that we're naked in the bedroom, you do?”

“No, Mel, it's not standards,” he said. “I can't do this with you, it's not right. You deserve better than this.”

“Do I?” She felt tears sting her eyes, but she held them back. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry as well. “Or are you having second thoughts and coming up with a good excuse to look like the good guy?”

“Mel, I'm serious,” he said. He watched her grab a blanket off the top of the bed to wrap around herself, being careful not to expose more skin than she already was. “I just...I care about you more than this, at least as a friend.”

He heard her scoff.

“We're a little too drunk to make decisions like this, it's late, our judgment is way off...we'll regret it in the morning.”

“You mean you'll regret it in the morning,” she said, reaching for her pants. “That's what you mean.”

“No, Mel, I...”

Chris sighed, watching her move around the room angrily. He was trying to say the right thing, but nothing came out right. She was already too angry. Anything he said from this point on would be taken out of context and he would make things worse for himself if he said anything more.

“Thanks for all your help with the food, Kirkpatrick,” she said. “Do me a favor and get your shirt on your way out the door.”

He sighed, hanging back a moment before walking out of the bedroom to the living room. As he bent down to grab his shirts, he heard the bedroom door slam behind him, and he sighed again.

After she closed the door, she sat down on the bed with her legs pulled up to her chest, her forehead leaned against her knees. It was only a minute or two before she heard her door outside close, and then she allowed the tears to fall down her cheeks.

A couple of hours ago, it wouldn't have hurt. She wouldn't have balked at him rejecting her. Somewhere between the time when they were in the kitchen cooking together and when he had her up against the wall kissing her, she had let feelings slip in unknowingly. Now, she knew better; she wouldn't let it happen again.

Chapter 12 – Siberia (Part One)

Addy had forgotten how much she hated doctors' offices. The atmosphere made her jittery; the sterile smell, the bright lighting, and especially the décor – the ugly chairs, fake marble counter tops, and the posters that surrounded you that you couldn't help but read. She had gotten used to being in the comfortable environment of a therapist's office, but these still made her cringe.

She shifted on the table, sighing when the paper crunched under her. The longer her doctor was out of the room, the more time she had to think of all the things she had to do today. Tonight was the night of the engagement party and she had a lot of things back home to set up before they would be ready. Justin and JC were flying in together from Los Angeles and she had to pick them up from the airport in less than two hours. The trip to the doctor had thrown a wrench in her entire day, but she knew Lance was right that she needed to go – especially since she knew he wouldn't drop it until she did.

The time he had been in the room, the doctor had looked in her eyes, ears, and down her throat. After a few minutes, he only said he wanted to run a few tests on her and had ordered her downstairs for blood work. Not only had it kicked in her nerves, it led her to believe that he didn't think she had a simple flu.

She was seconds away from wondering if she was dying or being a hypochondriac when there was a courtesy knock on the door and the doctor popped in.

“Hello again, Adeline,” he said, smiling briefly at her before he turned his nose down towards her file. “I'm sorry that took so long, but I looked over your blood work and I think I know what's wrong.”

“Is it the flu?” she asked.

“No, it's definitely not the flu,” he said as he sat down on his rolling stool.

“Then what's wrong with me?” she asked. “It's not some exotic virus from China or something, is it? I haven't done any traveling lately.”

“No, it's nothing like that,” he said, chuckling. “I ran the blood tests because I had a suspicion, and my suspicion was confirmed. Adeline, you're pregnant.”

She blinked her eyes a few times before the words traveled through her ears and into her brain, and she felt the blood pour from her face down to her knees.

“I'm sorry...did you...what did you say?”

“This is not the flu and it's not a virus, Adeline. You are pregnant.”

She shook her head. “I'm on birth control,” she said. “I can't be pregnant. Those blood tests are wrong.”

“No, they're not wrong,” he said. He glanced down at his chart again. “This anti-anxiety medication you listed – are you still taking that?”

“Yeah.”

“How long?” he asked, writing a few notes on the clipboard in front of him.

“I don't know,” she said. “Uh, five or six months, I guess.”

“Have you been taking it with your normal birth control?”

“Of course,” she said.

“Have you used any other methods of birth control?”

“Well, no,” she said. “I didn't think I needed to.”

“Was the doctor who prescribed it to you aware that you were on birth control?”

“Doctor, what's going on?”

He sighed, sensing the panic in her voice.

“The anti-anxiety medication could have interfered and counteracted the effects of your birth control,” he said. “It's not entirely uncommon – but it's not widely known. A lot of people know how antibiotics can affect birth control – but there's a much wider range of medications that can do the same thing that women don't know about.”

She made a noise that sounded like a scoff, trying to catch her breath. She watched him pull a pen from his pocket and start writing on a notepad.

“I assume this was unintended?” he asked.

“You could say that,” she said, barely above a whisper.

“Adeline, I know your history,” he said, speaking softly. He stopped writing long enough to place a hand on her arm to comfort her. “This can be hard, especially if it was unintentional. I know your concerns and worries. I've looked over everything I can as a general practitioner – and I can tell you that everything looks great.”

Instead of breathing a sigh of relief, she breathed and started crying. She wanted to scream; it felt like her heart was ripping out of her chest, and she was sure the doctor could feel it when he squeezed her wrist lightly.

“I'm sending you downstairs to a colleague of mine, an obstetrician,” he said. “He's going to fit you in after his last appointment, before he goes home for the day, and run some more tests and do an ultrasound. He'll put your mind at ease. He already knows of your situation. He and his wife have had three miscarriages themselves. You'll be in good hands.”

She took the paper that he ripped out of his notepad from his hand without a word, with the information of the doctor she was to go see now.

“I'll leave you a few moments to yourself, Ms. James,” he said as he started to walk away. He turned back to her as he opened the door. “And congratulations.”

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She had to rush to the airport from the doctor, avoiding the bridge and the rush hour traffic on the way, in order to make it in time to pick up Justin and JC when their plane landed at the scheduled 5:35.

She had done her crying at the doctor's office, and in the car while she sat in the parking lot. She knew she couldn't let Justin and JC see her crying. They would ask why, and she couldn't tell them – at least not before she told Lance. When she felt she had herself composed, she headed off to the airport, practicing her poker face the whole way.

The ultrasound picture was stuffed inside her purse the whole time she stood in the airport, waiting for their plane to finally land. She didn't even bother with a sign to hold up; they would know her.

Ten minutes after their plane was scheduled to land, people started to file out of the terminal and before long, she saw the two of them walk out together, smiling at her when they saw her. She pasted a smile on her face that she hoped was convincing as Justin closed in on her, his arms outspread to her.

“Addy-Bo-Baddy!” he said, immediately grabbing her in a hug.

He wrapped his arms around her chest so tight that she struggled to breathe for a moment, laughing when he released her.

“Gentle Justin, I'd like to have a ribcage intact after this weekend.”

“I'm excited to see you, that's all,” he said. “It's been a while.”

“A couple weeks,” she said, breathing a sigh.

She turned her head to JC, knowing that the true test was convincing him that nothing was different.

“Hey, Ad,” he said, smiling at her. “How's things?”

“They're good, JC,” she responded, nodding.

Before she knew it, she realized she was back in the Expedition, driving down the road with Justin sitting next to her in the passenger seat and JC leaning up slightly between them from the back.

“...Addy, tell him he's wrong.”

Her head popped up when she realized that Justin was talking to her.

“Huh?”

“JC thinks that the Patriots could have defeated the Giants in the Super Bowl this year if they had played their defense better,” he said. “Tell him he's wrong, that they never had a chance.”

“They kicked ass in the third quarter, Justin.”

“Dude, you're a moron, did you see the way Eli Manning was playing? Addy, tell him.”

“Oh,” she said. “Yeah, I don't follow football guys. I didn't even watch the Super Bowl. Sorry.”

She had been so distracted that she didn't remember at what point she had left the airport with them, or gotten in the car, or even started driving. Looking at each other quizzically first, JC and Justin looked over at her.

“Addy, are you okay?” JC asked.

“Yeah, you seem distracted,” Justin said. “And seriously? Not even the commercials?”

“Justin, shut up,” JC said, smacking him on the shoulder.

“No, guys, I'm fine,” she said, shaking her head and giving them a fake smile. “Sorry, I'm distracted thinking about the party tonight. Worried if it's going to go off without a hitch, that's all.”

“Ahh, don't worry,” Justin said with a sly smile. “It'll be fine, Ad. We've got whiskey.”

JC scoffed and glanced at her. “Of course that's his solution.”

She glanced in the mirror, looking back at JC. If only she could partake in the celebration; but there was no way that whiskey could or would help her now.

When they arrived back at the apartment, Lance was already home, much to her surprise. She knew he was running a Best Of show on the radio tonight so he could be home for the party, but he had said that he had some errands to run before the party and might not be back before she was home. She was surprised to see him when she walked through the door in front of Justin and JC.

The first thing Lance did was lean in to wrap an arm around her waist and place a kiss on her cheek. Unintentionally, she shied away from his touch – but if he noticed, he quickly forgot when he saw Justin and JC.

It wasn't long before they greeted each other loudly, whooping and hollering, slapping hands and bumping fists as if they hadn't seen each other in ten years.

“Congratulations, man!” Justin said loudly, slapping Lance on the back. “You're becoming a member of the Ball-and-Chain Club. You dumbass.”

Lance laughed, and accepted quieter congratulations and greetings from JC.

“I've got whiskey,” Justin said proudly.

“That's all I heard the whole plane ride here, about his damn whiskey,” JC said to Lance. “You'd swear he had mined liquid gold himself.”

“Hey, it's damn fine whiskey,” Justin said defensively. “Better be, I paid a fortune for it.”

“Some things never change,” Lance said with a laugh.

Thankful that the attention was off her, Addy shrugged her jacket off and threw it over the back of the chair, preparing to slip quietly away before anyone noticed.

“Hey, Ad,” Justin said as she had started to walk away. “Aren't you going to join us in a celebratory shot?”

“Yeah, didn't you hear Justin? He paid a fortune for his damn fine whiskey,” JC said. “We can't let him get wasted on it all by himself.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I'm tired, guys. I think I'll go lay down for a bit before the party starts. Sorry.”

“Dude, what's up with Addy?” Justin said after she disappeared from the room and closed the bedroom door.

“She seems different,” JC said. “Not herself.”

“I don't know,” Lance said. Justin and JC both picked up on the concern in his voice. “I'm worried about her. She's got so much going on right now. She's been exhausted since we moved back from Los Angeles; she can sleep ten hours in one night and still feel tired. She's been feeling sick lately, hardly eating anything – and it's only gotten worse since the murder.”

“I can't believe someone got murdered in your fucking apartment building,” Justin said, shaking his head.

“And she was friends with the guy. I joked with her about it all the time because he had a crush on her, but...I should have known she saw something in him that I didn't see, because she doesn't make friends that easily. I can't imagine seeing one of my friends murdered.”

“I'm worried about you guys, though,” JC said. “That guy getting killed was a warning. Whoever went after him might be going after one of you next.”

“Don't say that in front of her,” Lance said, looking briefly at the closed bedroom door with a sigh.

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The boys catching up in the living room, distracted by each other and the celebratory whiskey she saw they had already cracked open between the three of them, gave her enough time to quietly slip out of the bedroom and into the bathroom with her purse in her hand.

The first thing she did after locking the door was pull the ultrasound out of her purse. The second thing she did was reach into her purse and pulled out the small disk and the orange bottle. She turned the water on in the sink, low so the noise hopefully wouldn't travel into the living room, and picked up the orange bottle from the counter top. It was the thing that had betrayed her. It was supposed to help her; instead, it had put her in exactly the position she had tried so hard to avoid.

She opened the cap and immediately dumped all the pills into the sink, watching as the water carried each one down the drain. She did the same with the birth control pills in the disk, popping each remaining pill out of its bubble pack directly into the sink. She couldn't take them now anyway; she had been advised by her doctor to stop both medications because of the risks to the baby.

Baby. They were going to have a baby. She ran her hand under the stream of water and brushed it gently over her face to cool her. She still couldn't get used to hearing that sentence run through her head. She didn't know how she could bring herself to say it.

The first thing that occurred to her was how she could bring herself to tell him. Now that she looked back on it, she should have been able to see it – the nausea, the aversions to some of her favorite foods, the exhaustion, all symptoms she had experienced with her last pregnancy. She had missed a period but she had credited that to the added stress; it had happened to her before, so it wasn't unusual. She was always consistent with her birth control; there was never a reason to think that it could have failed on her.

And he wouldn't have been able to see it either, because she had lied to him. He believed she couldn't ever have his children, and because of her own selfish tendencies, she had let him believe exactly that. If she had told him the truth from the beginning, she would be able to lean on him for support now.

Essentially, she had royally screwed herself.

She spent a few more minutes cooling down in the bathroom before Justin interrupted, needing the room. She slipped out quietly, assuring him that she was okay when he became concerned again, and slipped back into the bedroom without seeing the other two.

She was able to lay down and take a nap for about an hour before she had to get up and start getting ready for the party. In only her bra and panties, she glanced at her image sideways in the mirror, sighing when she already noticed her figure changing. What slight baby bump she already had at ten weeks wasn't noticeable enough that she would have to hide it, but she already noticed the small changes from the way her body normally looked – the slightly swollen breasts, her hips a little wider than they normally were, and the rosier appearance of her skin, what they called “the glow”.

She slipped into a long, black gown after trying on the purple dress that she had planned to wear, disappointed when it already fit too tight for comfort. She threw her hair quickly into an up-do with a clip and was putting on her makeup when Lance slipped into the room, already dressed in his suit and tie.

“You okay?” he asked, running his hands softly down her shoulders and forearms from where he stood behind her.

“Yeah,” she said to the image in the mirror. “Yeah, I'm fine. A little tired. And sick. But I'll be okay.”

“You never told me what the doctor said.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat and stared back at him, preparing to lie straight to his face.

“He said it was probably mono,” she said, surprising herself with her calm demeanor despite how she felt inside. “There's nothing they can do about it; I have to get plenty of rest and let it run its course.”

“Mono,” he said, and for a moment she thought he would challenge her diagnosis. But then his face softened. “So that means I can't kiss you?”

“I guess not,” she said, faking a slight smile.

“Too bad. I guess I'll have to find other ways to show you how much I love you.”

She didn't respond; she looked away from his face in the mirror, closed her compact and gathered up all her makeup to avoid his stare, fearful that he would be able to see her lie on her face. When he moved his hands from her arms to her waist and around to her stomach, her breath caught in her throat.

“I thought you were going to wear the purple dress?” he asked.

“I changed my mind,” she said. She wasn't comfortable having his hands so close to her stomach; she had an unreasonable fear that he would notice the change in her weight. “I thought this would be more comfortable.”

“Yeah, you're probably right,” he said.

If there was a perfect time to tell him the truth, she realized this was it. She had him alone, away from their guests and the party, and in a relatively good mood. It was too late in the evening to fully cancel the party, and he could have the whole night to process the news.

“Lance, I'm...”

She felt her mouth open and heard the first two words come out, but her voice stopped short of the one word she needed to say. He turned to look at her intently.

“What, Addy?”

She wanted to say it. She wanted to lay it all out on the table and finally stop the string of lies she had told him, stop protecting only herself. She wanted to force the word out of her throat, but when she tried, it felt as if she had a noose around her neck preventing her from talking.

“I have to finish getting ready,” she finally heard herself say. Even though her heart was screaming the right words, they were stopped short in her throat, choking her.

“Yeah, I should probably get back out there,” he said. “Justin's already almost through the whiskey and he'll be working on the other stuff next. I should try to help JC slow him down.”

She turned back to the mirror as he started walking out of the room, stopping only to grab her arm and slightly pull her towards him.

“Mono be damned,” he said, pulling her to his lips and placing a soft kiss on them.

He smiled and she smiled back, surprised even at herself.

“It will be a good night, Addy,” he said. “All our friends are here, they're celebrating, they're happy. This is the first day of the rest of our life together.”

He let her go and when he finally walked out of the room and closed the door behind him, she allowed herself a heavy breath that she didn't realize she had been holding.

The first day of the rest of their life together. And she was starting it out with a bold-faced lie.

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Melissa was the first to arrive with the food, and Adeline gathered herself enough to help her set up the table as she brought things over from her apartment. Joanna and her husband Nick arrived, then Jamie-Lynn and her boyfriend Cutter, followed closely after by Joey and Kelly, then Chris. A few more people came, filling up the apartment quickly. By the time that Stephanie arrived, Adeline was already starting to feel claustrophobic.

“I'm here,” Stephanie said the minute that Lance opened the door, walking in without a hello and pulling her light wrap off her shoulders. “I'm a little late, I'm a little annoyed, but I'm here.”

“And there goes the whole party,” Lance said to Chris as he closed the door.

“You, shut up, take this,” Stephanie said, tossing the wrap to Lance without warning. “Make yourself useful.”

“Good to see you again, Steph,” he said. “So good.”

“Darling!” Stephanie said when she saw Adeline walk into the living room, followed by Melissa. “Come here, give me a hug. It's been forever.”

Melissa crossed her arms over her chest when Adeline embraced the new woman in the room, looking down as Chris looked up at her. She shifted her feet uncomfortably, digging the toes of her pointy heels into the carpet.

“It's good to see you,” Adeline said as Stephanie gave her a friendly kiss on the cheek. “It's been a long time since we've gotten together.”

“Yeah, I've taken on a couple new clients so I feel like I'm working all the time,” Stephanie said. “I'm too tired to even make a phone call most nights. Who is this?”

Melissa looked up to see Adeline and the new woman looking over at her.

“This is my friend Melissa,” Addy said with a smile. “She's also our neighbor.”

“I pity you, dear,” Stephanie said as she held out her hand to Melissa, who quietly shook it.

“And this is Stephanie,” Addy said with a slight chuckle. “She's one of my best friends and was Lance's assistant before me.”

“Oh God,” Melissa said. “I pity you, too.”

“Damn, I can't really be that bad, can I?” Lance asked.

“Yes,” all three women said in unison, laughing.

“To the booze,” Stephanie finally said. “Let's get this party started.”

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JC had joined the crowd in the living room a few minutes late after using the bathroom to change into his suit. He went immediately to the appetizer table, reaching for an egg roll to put on his plate when Joey came up behind him and slapped him on the back.

“Yo, man,” Joey said, smiling. “How's it going?”

“Yo!” JC said with a chuckle, slightly startled by Joey's greeting.

“Great party, huh?”

“Yeah, looks like it could be,” JC responded.

“Lance always throws pretty good parties,” Joey said. Then he laughed. “You should have been here for Lance and Addy's last party.”

JC looked over to see Lance and Addy standing with Stephanie, Melissa, and Justin, all chatting. He noticed that when Lance tightly gripped her hand and leaned in to kiss her cheek, she slightly shied away from him – and it wasn't the first time he had seen it tonight.

“Speaking of Addy,” he said, “you noticed she's acting weird tonight?”

“Nah man,” Joey said, grabbing a plate and scanning his eyes over the table of food. “That's Addy. Something constantly going through that head of hers. Who knows what she's thinking now.”

“Nah, she's acting even weirder,” JC said, his eyes still set on her. “Distracted, distant – sort of cold towards Lance, too. Something's going on. And I'm going to find out what it is.”

Chapter 13 – Siberia (Part Two)

Adeline could immediately see that Melissa was feeling nervous, the moment that she noticed Justin and JC in the room. When Joey and Chris finally arrived, she noticed it even more.

“You want to meet them?” she finally asked, watching her friend shift nervously as the rest of the guests settled in and started greeting each other. Most of their friends were acquainted with each other already because most of them had met each other at least once or twice; Melissa was the only one in the room who hadn't met the majority of these people, and being a fan of the group, she knew she had to be dying to get close to the boys.

“Oh, I don't know,” Melissa said, shaking her head slightly. Lance was one thing; being in the same room with three of the others was another – especially since they were already standing beside Chris, chatting away.

“Oh, come on,” Addy said, grabbing her arm. “You'll be fine. They're NSYNC now, but by the end of the night you'll know them well enough to realize that they're disgusting boys who burp and fart and make sex jokes like all the other pigs out there.”

Melissa found herself being forcefully dragged by the arm towards the corner of the room where the other men were, and within feet of them, Addy announced their arrival despite the conversation that was already taking place without them.

“Guys, I want you to meet Melissa, our neighbor,” she said, and all the boys' eyes fell on Melissa. “She's a huge fan.”

Melissa noticed that the first person her eyes fell on was Chris, who stood uncomfortably next to Joey.

“Hi Melissa,” JC said, holding his hand out to shake hers.

“Nice to meet you,” Justin said with a smile, grabbing her hand once JC let go.

“You know who they all are, of course,” Addy said. “And you've met Lance and Chris many times before.”

She glanced over at Chris once more, both of them looking away from each other quickly.

“Bella senorita,” Joey said, smiling when he grabbed Melissa's hand and bent down to give it a kiss.

“Oh for Heaven's sake, Joey,” Lance said. “Your wife is ten feet away.”

“I'm just saying hello and being friendly,” he said. He gave a friendly smile to Melissa. “It's nice to meet you.”

Melissa felt herself blush. “Nice to meet you too.”

“I'm going to get a drink,” Chris said, suddenly feeling more uncomfortable in the conversation. “I'll catch up with all of you later.”

“What the hell is his problem?” Justin asked when Chris walked away.

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The party went smoothly for the first couple of hours, and Adeline started out feeling relaxed, putting her problems out of her mind for the night so she could convince everybody that nothing was wrong.

It was after all the guys had decided to raise their glasses and each make a toast to Adeline and Lance that everything started to go wrong. Joey's toast was wrought with uncomfortable sexual references that made everyone in the room laugh nervously; on the other hand, Chris's toast right after was quiet and tame, which cued to her that something was wrong right away.

Justin had already done a little too much celebrating and was way past tipsy and well on his way to drunk by the time he yanked the mic out of JC's hand right before he was about to give his toast. He was starting to slur his words and as she thought his nonsensical toast was about to wind down, that was when he started the music.

By the time she walked away to find a place at the appetizer table, he was singing karaoke to his own “Sexyback” and making up his own choreography as he went along, while Joey followed along with him and Lance and JC stood back laughing uncontrollably, slightly drunk themselves.

“They're beyond wasted,” Stephanie said as she walked up to Adeline at the table, standing next to her. “Why aren't you recording this to use for blackmail? Or at least to post it on YouTube.”

“I guess at least they're having fun,” Addy said, trying to nibble on appetizers to settle her stomach.

“Has it ever occurred to you that every party you two throw, someone gets so drunk that they could legally be declared 100-proof?”

“I'm going to stop serving alcohol at our parties,” Addy said.

“But then we wouldn't have any good stories to tell at Thanksgiving,” Stephanie said with a whine.

Addy chuckled. “At least JC is distracted – for now.”

“What do you mean?”

“For two whole hours, he's been attached to my hip,” Addy said. “Wherever I am, he's sure to pop up within minutes. He's followed me to every single room I've gone into, butted into every conversation I've tried to have – it's starting to creep me out.”

“He's drunk,” Stephanie responded. “He's a fool, but I'm sure it's harmless.”

“I don't know. Just gives me a weird feeling.”

Stephanie paused. “You don't think he could be the...do you?”

“He's the only one following me around like a lost puppy,” Addy responded.

“Yeah, but...JC?” Stephanie looked over at JC, who was still laughing at the spectacle that Justin was making of himself. During the time she'd worked for Lance she had only met him once or twice, but he had always been friendly and gentlemanly. “JC is like, the last person I'd expect to be a stalker. Or a killer.”

Stephanie was surprised when Adeline grabbed her by the arm, pulling her through the living room and down the hall the whole way, before they ended up in the bedroom, Adeline closing the door behind her.

“Addy, are you high?” Stephanie shrieked.

“I have something that I have to tell you,” Adeline said. “And when I tell you, you can't tell anyone – not Joey, not JC, not Joanna...especially not Lance. Do you understand?”

“Addy, what the hell is going on with you?”

“I went to the doctor today, Steph.”

“Yeah,” Stephanie said, nodding. “And? What, Addy?”

“Stephanie, I'm--”

As she was about to say the word that had been caught in her throat all night, she heard a knock on the door frame and looked over to see JC peeking in the room, smiling at them.

“What's up, ladies?” he asked.

“JC,” Adeline said. “What a surprise. Have you met Stephanie? She was telling me what a huge Girl Radical fan she is. Why don't you two talk about it? I have to go check on the hors d'oeuvres table.”

Adeline walked out of the room, leaving a stunned Stephanie behind her, and gently pushed JC into the room. She was almost away before she was stopped by Stephanie's hand on her arm.

“What are you doing?” she whispered harshly.

“You have to distract him, keep him away from me the rest of the night.”

“JC?” she asked, turning her head. “You're going to leave me alone with a possible stalker and murderer? What if he's the killer?”

“Then it sounds like you've got a big problem,” Adeline said before she opened the door and pushed an unsuspecting Stephanie through it, closing it quickly before she walked off down the hall.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Need any help with that?”

Melissa averted her eyes from the table and looked up to see Chris standing next to her.

“Haven't you helped enough this week?” she asked harshly.

“I deserved that,” he said. “Will you at least let me apologize?”

“Chris,” she said with a sigh, her tone surprisingly soft. “You can apologize all you want. I'm not looking for an apology from you. In fact, I'm not looking for anything from you – not anymore.”

“Mel, listen to me,” he said.

“No, Chris,” she interrupted. “It's okay. I get the message. You're not interested in me. That's fine. Our date went bad, and the other night...you're right. It's best if we don't make things worse by having sex when we know we're not interested in each other.”

“Mel, that's not--”

“Wait, you two had sex?”

Lance and Justin had walked up behind Mel as Chris started protesting. Lance leaned on the edge of the table and smirked at Mel.

“No, we didn't have sex,” she said to him.

“But something happened,” Justin said, popping appetizers in his mouth.

“Guys, this is kind of an A and B conversation here,” Chris said.

“We seeeeee that,” Justin slurred, giggling at his own joke.

“Can we talk in private?” Chris asked, looking at Mel.

“No, Chris,” she said. “There's nothing more to talk about. What happened, happened. We stopped it, thank goodness, before we made a huge mistake.”

As she started to walk away, he reached his hand out to grab her arm.

“Wait--”

“Let go of me, Chris,” she said, pulling her arm.

He lightly struggled with her for a few seconds before she ripped her arm away from his grip. He was taken by surprise when she turned to him with a scowl on her face and suddenly, he felt the ice cold drink in her hand thrown on his face.

He was sputtering and trying to recover from shock as she walked away from them angrily. Lance and Justin broke into smiles and couldn't stop themselves from sounding out a chorus of taunts, looking between her walking away and Chris standing in surprise.

“What the hell did you do to her?” Lance said, laughing.

“Nothing,” Chris said, trying to wipe the burning alcohol from his eyes. “Things got a little crazy last night. We almost had sex. I was trying to be the good guy; trying to make her feel like she wasn't a one-night-stand.”

“So,” Lance said, still chuckling. “Let me get this straight. You have this woman – who previously hated you with the fire of ten thousand burning suns – in a position to have sex with you, and you turn her down to make her feel good?”

“Didja flunk sex ed, buddy?” Justin slurred, throwing his arm over Chris's shoulder.

“Let's go get you cleaned up, and Justin and I will explain – very slowly – the concept of foreplay,” Lance said, hooking his arm through Chris's and leading him to the bathroom.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Adeline stood in the middle of the room and breathed a sigh. For the last hour, she had been running between guests to make herself somewhat present at her own party, all the while trying to avoid JC and making sure Stephanie was doing her job keeping him occupied and away from her. Most recently, she'd had to keep an extremely drunk Justin from arguing with the other guys and find Chris a new shirt that wasn't soaked in alcohol.

She was taken by surprise when Melissa walked up next to her.

“Here you go, sweetie,” she said, handing her a glass full of an orange, fizzy liquid.

“Oh, I'll go grab some water,” Adeline said, shaking her head. “I'm not in the mood for a lot of liquor tonight.”

“It's non-alcoholic,” Melissa said. “It's some ginger ale with grenadine and a cherry – a Shirley Temple. Not a drop of alcohol in it; try it.”

Adeline sighed and took a drink. The drink was cool and refreshing, the ginger ale fizzy and the grenadine adding enough fruit flavor.

“Oh man,” Adeline said, savoring the taste.

“Good, right?”

“Mmm-hmm,” Adeline mumbled, taking another drink.

After Adeline had satisfied her thirst, Melissa leaned in to her. “How far along are you?” she whispered.

Adeline's eyes widened in shock. “What?”

“You've been sick to your stomach for weeks and exhausted. You went to the doctor today and coincidentally, you've been turning down alcohol all night. The way this party is going, you'd be running straight for the hooch if there wasn't one good reason that you couldn't.”

“How the hell do you do that?” Adeline asked. “Nobody knows but me.”

“I'm a woman,” Melissa said with a shrug.

“Stephanie's a woman,” Adeline said. “She doesn't suspect anything yet.”

“That's because Stephanie's been too busy hogtying JC,” Melissa responded with a smile. “Stephanie hasn't had time to breathe, let alone figure you out.”

“Mel, this is the party from hell,” Adeline said. She started walking toward the kitchen, and Melissa followed a few steps after her. “All the boys are drunk or half-drunk – including Lance. Stephanie is too busy playing bodyguard to have any fun. Everybody's acting funny, and I don't know whether it's the alcohol or my imagination. And these shoes...”

“They're killing you,” Melissa said with a nod. “Honey, sit down for a minute, take a load off.”

Adeline sat down in the kitchen chair, while Melissa sat down next to her. Adeline slipped off her black high heels, and Melissa grabbed her feet, putting them in her own lap.

“How long have you known?” she asked, rubbing hard circles into her friends feet.

“I found out this afternoon,” Adeline responded.

“Is there a reason you haven't told Lance yet?”

“Because I've made such a mess of things.”

“What have you made a mess of?”

“I've lied to him from the beginning,” Adeline said. “He thinks we'll never be able to have children.”

“Isn't that what you thought?”

“No, Mel – he thinks I can't get pregnant. I never told him the truth – I didn't want to get pregnant.”

Melissa stopped rubbing.

“But I...” She stopped periodically, obviously stunned. “I thought that...the doctors told you you'd never be able to have children?”

“They said I may never be able to carry a child,” Adeline said. “A living, breathing child.”

“Oh my God,” Melissa said as her hands reached to cover her mouth.

“I never told him the truth because if he knew...” She stopped to sigh. “He doesn't know what it feels like. He doesn't know the pain of losing a child. He loves April as much as he can; he feels it as much as he can – but it will never be the same for him. He doesn't know how much it hurts, so for him, it's still worth trying.”

“And he wants to try?”

“He's wanted to try since Los Angeles.”

“Oh, Addy...”

Both women went silent for a moment.

“How are you going to tell him?” Melissa finally asked.

That was the question she had been contemplating all night, between trying to fix party disasters and mingling with their beloved friends. She had tried to gather the courage to tell him several times during the party, when he would join her before moving onto a new guest or crowd. Every time she tried, the same thing happened – the word caught in her throat and she couldn't bring herself to say it.

She couldn't tell him, and she couldn't hide it – she had only one choice that she saw.

“Easy,” Adeline responded. “I'm not.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She didn't get a chance to start packing her bag until the last guest left the apartment. She didn't bother waiting until it looked like JC and Justin were getting ready to grab a cab; they were so drunk that she figured those two would get halfway to the door and pass out anyway. It became so quiet in the apartment that she assumed Lance had passed out on the couch as well, when a half-drunk yell made its way through the apartment.

“Addy!”

She ignored it at first, but after throwing a few more clothes into her suitcase, she knew she couldn't avoid going into the living room for long.

“Addy!”

She walked into the room mid-yell, to find Justin passed out face-down on the couch and JC squeezed in next to him, his head leaned onto the arm rest. Lance was the only one awake, relaxed into the chair with an arm thrown over his head and a leg out, his tie loosened and the top buttons of his white shirt undone.

“There you are,” he drawled as he saw her walk into the room.

“Lance, you're drunk,” she said flatly.

“Maybe a little,” he said with a smile. “Come here.”

As she had grabbed what she needed and was about to walk back to the bedroom, he stretched to grab her arm as she walked behind him.

In a single move, he stood up from the chair and wrapping one hand around the back of her neck and the other over her hip barely touching her butt, he had her gently pinned up against the wall.

“Everybody's finally gone,” he said.

She started talking, but it only came out as a mumble when he put his lips on hers.

“Jace and Justin,” she managed when he released her.

“Sleeping like babies,” he said. “They won't hear a thing.”

Despite her better judgment that told her it probably wasn't right, she let him lead her to the bedroom, managing to undo two more buttons on his shirt on the way. He kicked the door closed before leading her all the way over to the bed, where she fell on her back with him on top of her.

She was working another button on his shirt when out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the suitcase, open and nearly full, that they had laid down next to on the bed.

“Addy,” he said between her placing kisses on the corner of his mouth, “what's this suitcase doing here?”

She opened her eyes to look up at him, and he saw the mood in her eyes change. She used her hand on his chest to gently push him off, using a finger to wipe some of her smeared lipstick off his face.

“Lance, we need to talk.”

He lifted himself to a standing position, looking at her with worry.

“I'm moving back to my old apartment,” she said.

“You're what?” he exclaimed.

“For a little while,” she said. “Not permanently. I need some time to think about things before we get married. I need to clear my head.”

As she feared, she felt tears starting to come.

“It would be a good time for you to think about things, too,” she said. “We need to get our heads together before we can think about getting married. We owe it to ourselves to have some space.”

“I don't need space,” he said. “This is my space. You're my space.”

“I need space,” she said, standing up and moving over to the side of the bed, throwing the last of her things into her suitcase and zipping it.

“Wh—where is this coming from Adeline?” he stuttered, his voice raised an octave. “Two hours ago you were fine. Ten seconds ago you were all over me – now you're leaving me?”

“I'm not leaving you, Lance,” she said. She lifted the suitcase to a standing position on the floor. “I'm not breaking up with you, I still want to get married, I...you have to understand that I'm telling you I need to think about some things. A few weeks, that's it.”

“Weeks?”

As she grabbed the handle of the suitcase and was preparing to walk out of the room, he stopped her by grabbing her arm.

“Why?” he asked as he pulled her to him, begging her with his eyes. “Why are you doing this to me? What happened? We were happy, weren't we?”

It was then that he saw the tears in her eyes, that finally started to crawl down her cheeks.

“It's not you,” she whispered.

“I love you, Addy,” he said.

“And I still love you,” she said. “But I need time away from you.”

He released the grip from her arm, which allowed her to slip away from him. As she grabbed the suitcase and made the slow walk through the bedroom and hallway to the front door, he followed her, trying to make sense of the whole situation.

She stopped short of the door and set her suitcase back down to the floor, wrapping her arms around his waist and pulling him close to her.

“If you want to talk about it, you can call,” she whispered, softly kissing him on the lips even though he didn't reciprocate. “I love you, and I'm sorry.”

When he didn't respond to her, she pulled away and opened the door, giving him a final look before she walked out of his life – yet again.

Chapter 14 – I Know Your Secret

She woke up the next morning in a nearly-empty apartment. She had moved most of her stuff out a long time ago, as far back as they had been living in Los Angeles, subletting the apartment to a single woman holding a temporary job in the city for the past year. The women had moved out of the apartment and the city last month, and Addy had been telling herself the whole time that she would look for a new sublet as soon as life slowed down. Since then, they had been using the apartment part-time to store a few things they wanted to keep but couldn't fit in their apartment.

Now that she was back, and for who knew how long, those were the only things she owned. Luckily some of her furniture was still here, included for the sublet – her couch and chair, her dining room table, her bed, her television that they never needed, her coffee table. But currently, she had no dishes, no coffee pot, no food in the refrigerator, no bath towels – only a few of the most basic things she would need like toothpaste and a toothbrush, and about a week and a half's worth of clothes she was able to pack.

She didn't have the heart to go back to the apartment to grab anything. She missed her belongings; not just the clothes and basic necessities, but her photo albums, books, pictures – all the personal things that made her home hers. Maybe a part of her was scared to have to go through the heartbreak of walking out of the apartment again, but she also stayed away for his sake. The way he had looked at her the night before as she had opened the door, tried to kiss him goodbye, and had walked out – she didn't want to have to see that again. She didn't want him to feel that way again.

So when she walked out into her living room that morning and saw how pathetic it looked, with boxes laying around instead of decorations and her old, dusty furniture sitting there, she resolved that as miserable as it was going to be, she would live this way – for a while.

She groaned when she heard a knock on her door.

The last person she expected to see at eight in the morning behind the door when she opened it was Mel – in a t-shirt and track pants with her hair pulled back in a thin headband.

“Happy housewarming,” she said with a smile, holding up a white bag and a drink tray of coffees.

“I love you so much right now,” Adeline responded.

They sat down at the empty dining room table, Mel barely batting an eye at the different surroundings. They regularly met for coffee and donuts, either at one of their apartments or at their favorite cafe spot, but Addy knew that it had to be awkward for Mel. She had obviously found out what had happened the night before, otherwise she wouldn't be here.

“Did you walk here?” Adeline asked, noticing the way Mel was dressed.

“Ran, actually,” Mel responded.

“You ran all the way here?” she asked, surprised. “It's like ten or fifteen miles from your apartment to here!”

“Oh wait, you thought I ran all the way here?” Mel said with a laugh. “I ran to the cafe to pick these up.” She lifted the bag and the coffees before she placed them on the table. “Then I hailed a cab to your apartment.”

“That explains it then,” Addy said with a chuckle.

“I love to go for a run every now and then, but I'm not suicidal.”

“Still, that's quite a ways from your apartment to the cafe,” Adeline said, sitting down. “Five miles or so.”

“I needed it this morning,” Mel responded. “I needed to clear my head.”

“You and me both.”

“So,” Melissa said as she sat down. “Let's catch up. How're things? How'd you sleep? Why in the world did you leave your fiance in the middle of the night?”

“You get right to the point.”

“Apparently so do you,” Mel said, grabbing a doughnut out of the bag in front of her. “Last night when I left you were there. This morning when I woke up and went to your apartment to talk to you, Lance told me you had left, you were gone. In a span of less than eight hours. I was slightly curious.”

Adeline sighed. “I couldn't tell him, Mel.”

“I don't understand, Addy. Why? He's your fiance. You're marrying him – or at least you were.”

“I still want to get married.”

“Then why?” Mel asked. “I mean this is a good thing, isn't it? You both want kids. You'd be great parents. A baby with your nose and lips, his eyes and blonde hair...”

“I can't put him through it,” Addy responded. “I just...can't put him through this.”

“Through what, having a baby?” Melissa chuckled. “I know Lance is a little...well...immature, I guess, but I think he's capable of parenting. I think he'd be a great dad.”

“I could swear you complimented him.”

Melissa chuckled. She thought it was funny too, considering how her encounter with Lance had gone this morning. He had answered the door half-asleep as it was and he hadn't been pleased when it ended up being her behind it. He hadn't slammed the door in her face, but he had been cold and short, giving her a dirty look before trying to get her out of his way as quickly as he could. Justin wasn't exactly welcoming either.

“It gave me a funny feeling I didn't like, but at least my nose didn't grow so you can tell I'm not lying when I say it,” Melissa replied. “I do think he would be a great dad. And he loves you to death, Ad. I can't see him being mad at you for lying to him about being able to get pregnant, under the circumstances. And I think if you went back and told him that you're pregnant, he would actually be thrilled.”

“It's not only about the lie,” Addy said. “I can't put him through the pain, Mel.”

“What pain, Addy?”

She started tearing up, leaving Mel to reach out for her hand and give it a squeeze across the table.

“The pain of him watching my stomach grow. The pain of him watching his son or daughter grow inside of me. Him touching and kissing my stomach and telling the baby how much he loves it, and planning a nursery, picking out names...and then one day, it's not there anymore.”

“Oh Addy...” Mel felt a stab of sadness pierce her heart. “You don't know that it's going to happen.”

“It's more likely to happen than not,” Addy said, more tears falling. “I have this fucked up body that...that just...betrays me. And I can't put him through this, Mel. I just can't.”

Melissa went silent, watching Adeline sniff a few times and wipe her eyes, trying to compose herself. The combination of hormones and the emotional baggage that had come back around to her friend had to be rough, and she wished she knew the right thing to say.

“So out of curiosity,” Mel asked, “what exactly is your plan here? Hang out and cool your heels here until you're ready to tell him? Wait until he figures it out for himself? Never tell him?”

“I'm going to wait until the inevitable happens,” Addy said. “I can hide the pregnancy from him until then. Then I'll go back to live in the apartment and tell him I've finally sorted out my head.”

“There are so many things wrong with that plan that it's ridiculous,” Mel said, rolling her eyes. “First of all – look at you. Addy, you're already starting to show. You'll be able to hide it another couple of months, tops. Then he'll start questioning why you're wearing hoodies in August when it's eighty degrees outside.”

Addy reached down and touched her stomach, feeling the bump that felt like it had grown overnight already. Right now, it was easily disguised by a t-shirt and loose pants – but she couldn't do that forever. In fact, she would start growing out of her current size within a month or two if her last pregnancy was any indication. And she refused to wear hoodies in August at almost five months pregnant in the midst of the New York summer.

“Second of all,” Mel continued, “you guys are still technically 'together', right? What if you two are together and decide to have an intimate moment? You know that even apart, you two probably won't be able to keep your hands off each other. How are you going to explain that belly when you take off your shirt – you're smuggling a basketball full of drugs in from Mexico as a side job?”

Another good point. Yes, she hadn't thought it out as much as she should have. She would still see Lance; and when she did, she couldn't say that the scenario wouldn't go down something like Mel had described. She could hide from him the fact that she was still throwing up from morning sickness, not taking the pills she had been prescribed every day, and constantly going to the bathroom by moving out of the apartment. But there were things that wouldn't be so easy to hide from him.

“Third – what happens if, God forbid, the supposedly inevitable does happen? What are you going to tell him when you're laying in the hospital and he asks you why?”

Aside from not calling and telling him when it did happen – which would nearly impossible on a practical level and unbearable on an emotional level – she had no answer.

“Even if you could successfully hide this pregnancy from him until after it happened – and there's no way you could – how can you of all people say that you'll go back to living with him in the apartment and tell him you've finally sorted out your head? You'll be an emotional wreck. The last thing you'll be is 'sorted out', Addy.”

He would be her main source of support, if it happened. She knew how it felt to have an unsupportive husband, and it made something that was already a nightmare that much worse. But he wasn't her ex-husband – he would be there for her, he would take care of her. He would be as devastated as she would be.

That was the problem. She knew what it had been like getting through that, and she still wasn't over it. She never would be. She couldn't put him through that.

Mel stayed for hours. At first it had been tough for Addy, talking through all that stuff with her, but eventually it felt cathartic. She could talk with Lance openly and easily enough about some of these things, but as a man, he didn't understand. He didn't have the natural instinct in him to be a mother like most women did. Melissa was a woman and therefore understood the natural pull to have children and take care of them. She could understand how much it would hurt to be told it may never be possible; to be told that your body didn't work quite right.

She could relate.

“Thank you for today,” Addy said quietly as she opened the door for Mel as she was ready to leave.

“That's what friends are for, right?” she responded with a smile.

“Now I wish I knew what to do.”

“You do,” Melissa said, stepping out into the hallway. “You don't think you do, but you know exactly what to do. You're afraid.”

Afraid wasn't the word for it, she realized – she was terrified.

“You have to tell him, Addy,” Mel finally said. “Would you rather him feel the pain of losing a child that he was able to fall in love with in the short time he got to know it, or feel the pain of losing a child that he never knew existed until it was already gone?”

All she could do was nod in understanding and close the door behind Mel as she walked away. It hit her hard, and when she was alone, all she could do was take the ultrasound out of her purse and sit on the couch with it, crying as she looked at it.

It looked so much like the first ultrasound she'd had with April – a grainy, black and white blob that you wouldn't be able to see any distinguishing features of if you only gave it a glance. But if you looked close, there were tiny hands, feet, and a beating heart.

How long that heart would beat remained to be seen.

Eventually she was able to dig herself out of the hole she'd managed to bury herself in, and decided she needed to run to the store for some much needed groceries and shower products. She brushed her teeth, splashed cold water on her face, and tried to make herself look as presentable as she could by throwing on a bit of foundation and mascara.

She was only mildly happy with her appearance when she grabbed her purse and got ready to step out the door, but once she sat one foot outside the threshold, her appearance was the last thing on her mind.

Laying on the floor in front of her door was another plain, white note card.

She cautiously leaned outside the door, looking down either side of the hallway – not under the illusion that she might actually see who could have left it, but out of instinct – before picking it up and turning it over to reveal the words on it.

I know your secret, Adeline. Tsk tsk. What would he think if he knew?

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Lance was on his way as soon as she had called.

“You didn't have to come,” she said after she had opened the door to him.

“Yeah, I did,” he said. “Were you going to handle this by yourself? I don't think so.”

She sighed as he walked into her apartment. He could tell that this wasn't what she wanted, him coming by, but she had called him for a reason. What was he supposed to do, ignore it?

“The place is kind of empty, isn't it?” he asked as he caught sight of it. For the last year they had essentially used the place as a storage shed, only keeping her name on the lease because it was convenient and being all the way across the country, they didn't have the time to move out her stuff to give up the apartment. When the chance to sublet it came up, they jumped at the opportunity to unload it off to someone else temporarily until they had time to deal with everything.

Now he honestly regretted that they had kept the apartment at all.

“I'm working on it,” she said, clearly displeased. “It will do for now.”

He shrugged. He honestly didn't understand it. He had spent the whole night before trying to comprehend what he had done wrong that she felt she needed to move out of his apartment. They had lived together for a year and a half, it wasn't anything scary or new. Even before they had officially moved in together in their apartment in LA, she had stayed at his apartment so much that she was living there.

He thought he gave her everything she needed or wanted. He had thought they were happy. The night before had blindsided him.

“Seems like between living here and coming back to our apartment, the choice would be obvious,” he said, planting his hands in the pocket of his jeans.

“Lance, don't start with me,” she said, her tone soft but warning. “I don't need this today.”

“Where is it?” he asked with a sigh.

Rolling her eyes slightly when he wasn't looking, she walked off to her kitchen counter, grabbing the note from where she had placed it. She brought it to him completely silent, crossing her arms across her chest as she handed it to him.

“Cocky little bitch,” he chuckled lowly to himself, letting a smile cross his face as he read it. She knew that smile; it was his pissed-off smile, the one that told you he wasn't impressed at all.

“What are you going to do with it?” she asked.

“The only thing I can do,” he said as he looked at her. “I'll take it to Abrams in the morning. I have an appointment with him at ten anyway.”

“What for?” she asked. She felt alarmed; she knew nothing of this meeting.

“Let me worry about it,” he said. “Stay out of it, Addy.”

She huffed; she knew he was upset at her for what had happened the night before, and the last thing that she wanted was him here either. She wanted her space to cool off, too. But there was no reason for him to talk to her like that.

“Is there something that I should know?” he suddenly asked her, a look in his eyes.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“What secret don't I know?” he said.

She froze momentarily – the note. He'd read it, and in the panic of receiving another one, she hadn't considered that she'd given him too much information, given him a reason to question her. She wasn't prepared to lie her way out of it.

“What secret?” she asked pathetically.

“That's what I asked you,” he replied, a slight smirk on his face.

“I don't know what that note is talking about, Lance,” she said, trying to act confident.

“You sure about that?” he asked. “Funny that it comes at a time when you need 'space' then.”

She sighed. “Look, Lance, I know you're upset with me...”

“Upset?” he scoffed. “You're damn right I'm upset! I thought everything was good. Then you suddenly leave, and you give me absolutely no explanation as to why. Do you expect me to be okay with this?”

“I don't expect you to be okay with it at all,” she said, raising her voice. If he could yell, so could she. “All I'm asking for is understanding from you that I've got shit to work out right now.”

“So you talk to me about it!” he yelled. “You don't leave!”

“I can't talk to you about it!”

It had been a long time since she'd lost her temper like this. In fact, she didn't normally lose her temper quite this much. She figured it was partially due to the crazy ride that hormones were taking her on, because the next moment all she wanted to do was burst into tears.

“Is there someone else?”

She didn't think he'd ask it so blatantly – but after she thought about it, it made sense. That was how he was.

“Is that what you think?” she asked.

“I don't know what to think,” he said.

He tried to gauge her honesty by her face – could she look him in the eye when she answered him? She had her arms crossed, staring at him with that are you stupid look on her face that she gave him when she found his behavior ridiculous. But what was that supposed to tell him?

“So what are you trying to do, accuse me of cheating on you?” she asked.

“Do you blame me?” he asked. “First I get a bug in my ear asking if I know what you're doing when I'm not looking, what lies you've told me. Then you up and leave one night – and now this.” He held the note card up in his hand. “This one wasn't intended to go to me. It was intended to go to you, as if you clearly know what it means, that there's something that you're not telling me.”

“And the first thing you think is that I'm seeing someone else behind your back?”

“Wouldn't you?” he asked. “It's not like you haven't done it before, Addy.”

She stared at him a long time, shocked that he would have the nerve to bring it up. Their history, it had been rough and had started out because of infidelity – hers. But she never could have imagined that he would throw it back in her face.

“If that's the way you feel Lance, I think you should leave.”

He nodded, looking down at his feet.

“Fine,” he said. He quickly stuffed the note card she had given him in his back pocket, turning around slowly toward the door. “You should stay in the apartment and lock all your doors and windows. You shouldn't be going anywhere.”

“I have things to do,” she said simply. “I'm not locking myself in my apartment because you tell me I should.”

“I'm trying to keep you safe,” he said, turning around to face her suddenly as he put his hand on the doorknob.

They shared an uncomfortable, silent stare for a few seconds. It was the closest they had been to each other since the scene at his apartment the night before.

“You know what?” he said, throwing a hand up. “Do what you want, Addy. You always do anyway.”

Before she could say anything, he roughly turned the knob and threw the door open, quickly walking out and closing it behind him.

She felt so much rage and anger that she stood in front of the door for a moment. Clenching her eyes closed, she brought her hands up to the door, leaning her head against and squeezing her hands and every muscle she could, she let out a closed-mouth scream to release some of it. Afterwards, she stood there against the door, slowly breathing in and out to let the anger flow through her and out easily.

She never thought he would accuse her of that – but now that she knew that it was out on the table, a part of her was thankful she hadn't told him about her pregnancy. Who knew what can of worms that would open up for her. She didn't want to think about it. She knew the truth.

The problem was that she was stuck. He didn't know the truth – and apparently, someone else did. And that person wasn't above trying to ruin her life.

Chapter 15 – That Girl Is Murder

“Ooo fink sees eating om ooo?”

“Do you have manners?” Lance asked Justin, turning to look at him stuffing his face with a bowl full of cereal. “Chew with your mouth closed, pig. And swallow before you try to talk.”

It gave Lance a few seconds to walk to the fridge and grab an orange juice out of the fridge, waiting for Justin to finish chewing.

“You think she's cheating on you?” he finally said as he swallowed.

Lance sighed heavily. “I don't know, Jus.”

Lance would be the first to admit that his encounter with Adeline the day before had gone bad. He had realized it this morning when he woke up. The day before he had still been angry at her for walking out on him so suddenly. And when he had seen what the note that she had handed him said, it had crossed his mind. He couldn't help but think that maybe it was the explanation he was looking for as to why. His broken heart and rage had spoken up before his head had a chance to tell him to stop and think about what he was saying to her.

Her reaction hadn't helped. She hadn't once said the word “no”. She hadn't ever denied it, only returning his questions with more questions. Her face made him want to think the answer was no, but she was usually so direct and honest with him. The thought that she had a secret that she wasn't telling him killed him.

“Yeah, but...you really think she could do that to you?” Justin asked. He used his spoon to dip what little cereal was left under the milk before scooping up another bite and holding it over the bowl. “Addy loves you, man.”

“She still loved her husband when she started sleeping with me, too,” Lance countered.

Justin took a brief pause before spooning the cereal into his mouth and chewing.

“That was different, though,” he said after he swallowed. “Her husband treated her like crap. It was falling apart and she knew it. She knew it was only a matter of time.”

“You don't call this falling apart?” Lance scoffed. “Look around – do you see her here?”

“It won't last,” Justin said. “Give her a week. She'll be back. She's Addy.”

“Yeah, and in the meantime, I get to wake up to your ugly mug instead of her beautiful face,” Lance said. “I'm so blessed.”

“You fuckin' love me and you know it.”

Lance smiled. He was actually slightly glad that Justin had decided to take a semi-vacation and stay with Lance in New York for at least a week. He hadn't expected it when Justin had told him and asked if he could crash on his couch instead of renting a hotel, but he was always willing to have one of the guys stay with him while they were in town.

Circumstances what they were, he was glad to have the company, even if it wasn't exactly the person he wanted in the apartment. It at least made the days less lonely, with the two of them hanging out and spending quality time together like they hadn't in several years.

“I've got my meeting to go to, so if you're going, you better be ready in ten minutes,” Lance said, standing up from his seat at the table. “And watch your filthy mouth.”

Before he walked out of the kitchen, he used the opportunity to smack Justin on the back of the head. The spoonful of cereal he was about to put in his mouth didn't make it before milk splashed out of the spoon and the blow to the head caused the whole spoon to crash back down into the bowl with a loud sound.

“I'll get you back for that!” Justin yelled after him. “I know where you sleep now!”

To Lance's surprise, Justin had finished eating and was fully dressed by the time Lance walked to the door and got ready to leave. Lance made sure he had the note card in his back pocket and his keys and cell phone, before walking out the door with Justin in tail.

“Hey Mel.”

Lance had turned around to close and lock the door when he heard Justin speak, and he quickly turned around, seeing Mel walking down the hallway with her tote bag wrapped over her shoulder.

“Hey Justin,” she said, pulling out her keys. Then she looked over to Lance. “Hey.”

“Hey Mel,” he answered, watching her walk up to her door and put the key in the lock.

“How are you this morning?” Justin asked her.

“Fine, Justin,” she answered quickly. “How are you guys?”

“We're going to the police station,” Justin said, a slight smile on his lips. “I'm gonna be the good cop and Lance is gonna be the bad cop.”

She raised her eyebrows, only half amused. “Have fun with that then.”

“So,” Lance said, taking the opportunity to talk before she stepped inside her apartment, “did you ever get to talk to Addy yesterday?”

She paused before smirking at him. “No, I didn't. Did you?”

“Nope,” he answered shortly before smirking back.

“Hmm, too bad,” she said before disappearing into her apartment and closing the door, and they could hear the mechanism lock before hearing her scoot the deadbolt as well.

“Yo,” Justin said, drawing the word out with a smile on his face. “What was that all about?”

“I don't fucking trust her, man,” Lance said, keeping his voice quiet but heated. He started walking quickly down the hall toward the elevator, leaving Justin to have to keep up with him. “None of this shit started happening until she came into the picture, J. She moves in out of nowhere and then all of a sudden we come back to New York and somebody knows our every fucking move!”

“Isn't she Addy's friend, though?”

“That's exactly what I don't like!” Lance stressed, pointing a finger at Justin, nearly poking him. “Who is she? Where'd she come from? Boon-fucking-docks Arkansas is all I know about her. And what the hell is with her apartment? Addy said it's nearly barren in there. She hardly had anything to her name. No pictures, hardly any furniture, no personal belongings, collections, little knick knacks – nothing!”

“Maybe she likes things simple,” Justin responded as Lance smacked the button on the elevator to go down. “Not all women like to pretty their apartment up with pink taffeta bows and shit like that, you know.”

“No pictures? Not even a picture of her parents, her grandma, her ex-boyfriend?” Lance asked. “I don't buy it, J.”

Justin was about to respond when the elevator dinged and the door opened, and Chris started walking out, stopping right before he smacked into Justin, neither of them paying attention.

“Whoa!” Justin said, startled. “Jesus Christ, Chris. Ninja midget. You come out of nowhere.”

“Hey,” Chris said, stepping out of Justin's way and turning back to them. “Where are you guys going?”

Lance ignored him, stomping onto the elevator in a rage, while Justin stepped on quickly so his friend wouldn't leave him behind.

“Police station,” he said quickly, knowing Lance had already pushed the button. “Wanna come?”

“Holy hell, wait for me!” Chris said, trying to make it onto the elevator before the doors closed.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The last place Chris had expected to find himself was the police station when he'd walked out of his own apartment this morning. He had fully intended to go to Mel's apartment that morning and make another attempt to talk to her and smooth things over.

He admitted it – the minute Justin had asked him if he wanted to come to the police station with them, he'd turned into a chicken-shit.

He didn't even know why he was here, other than it was a good excuse to get out of losing his mind one more time and submitting himself to Mel's punishment again.

“Mr. Bass?”

Lance, Chris and Justin looked up as Detective Abrams peeked out of his office door and looked at them.

“I'm ready for you,” he said.

The three of them walked into the office with Lance at the head of the line, Justin holding the door for Chris and Chris closing it behind him at the request of the detective. Justin and Chris couldn't help but look around the office in amazement. It looked like you saw in the movies, only a little less unorganized.

Justin's face screwed up in horror as he looked at a corkboard hanging up on the wall to their right, and smacked Chris's shoulder to get his attention, pointing to it. Chris's face also twisted in disgust as they both laid eyes on a bloody crime scene photo, complete with what they could only assume was a dead body covered with a sheet. They looked at each other, both of their faces turned up. Justin used his index finger to point to his mouth, making a slight gagging noise at his friend.

Lance remained unfazed as he took a seat in front of the detective's desk, Chris and Justin sitting down in two seats next to him.

“You said you may have had some more information for me?” the detective said as he sat down in his desk chair with a slight groan, adjusting his tie.

“I do.” Lance lifted up to reach into his pocket, pulling the note card out of it and placing it on the desk in front of the detective. “My fiancee received this yesterday afternoon at her apartment.”

“Were you there at the time?” the detective asked, briefly looking over the note. “Did you see anybody suspicious hanging around your apartment or the building that day?”

“Uh...no,” Lance stammered, shaking his head. “Actually, I was at...my apartment.”

The detective's eyebrows raised in confusion. “Your apartment? I thought you and Ms. James lived together?”

“We did,” Lance said. “She...moved out.”

Justin and Chris held their breath silently while the detective paused before nodding.

“I see. Okay. Is this the only one you've received since we were at your apartment?”

“The only one that I know of,” Lance responded.

“Where did she receive it?”

“She said it was left at her door, right there on the floor.”

“Who besides you knows her new apartment address?”

“Her friend Stephanie, she lived there before,” Lance said. “Chris might know where it is. And her friend Melissa.”

At the mention of Melissa, Chris sneaked a peek over at Lance.

“And Ms. James didn't tell you she saw anything herself?” the detective quickly intervened.

“No, sir. Not that she told me.”

“Has she noticed any odd behavior around her apartment building or anywhere she's gone lately?” he asked. “Maybe anybody following her?”

“Not that she's mentioned.”

“Are you on...speaking terms with her, Mr. Bass?” the detective asked cautiously.

“Speaking, yes,” Lance said honestly before sighing. “Speaking cordially? Not so much.”

The detective nodded slightly. “And you haven't seen any unusual activity around your apartment lately?”

“Not really.”

“Aside from Justin's not-so-unusual activity,” Chris said with a chuckle, seeing Justin's smug glance at him.

“Who's Justin?” the detective asked, looking toward Chris.

“This is Justin,” Lance said, nodding his head toward him. “He's staying with me while he's in the city.”

“Have you noticed anything?” the detective asked. “Maybe while Lance was out of the apartment?”

“Only Melissa this morning,” Justin said.

“What about Melissa?” Chris asked.

“I'm sorry – Melissa?” the detective asked.

“Yeah, the uh--” Lance paused to collect his thoughts and try to remember her last name. “The girl who lives in the apartment directly across from me. Short blonde hair, probably about five foot...four, maybe? Sorry, I don't remember her last name.”

“Weston,” Chris said. “And she's more like five foot nine. She's about as tall as I am.”

Lance looked beside him as the detective went silent and lifted an eyebrow at Chris.

“What?” Chris asked.

“You sure know a lot about this girl for not liking her very much,” Lance answered.

“Just because we want to claw each other's eyes out, doesn't mean I'm not observant,” Chris said, feeling defensive.

“Ahh yes, Ms. Weston. We checked out her alibi for both the night of the murder and the day the package was delivered,” Abrams said, ignoring their inside conversation in front of him. “Her employer had her clocked in at the time of the guard's death, and her teacher had her marked as in attendance the morning the package was delivered to your door. We've cleared her from the suspect list.”

Chris sighed in relief, and Lance clearly heard it and looked over at him again with a questioning look.

“She broke into my apartment,” Lance argued.

“Technically, she didn't break in,” Chris said. When Lance looked over for a third time and narrowed his eyebrows, he raised his hand. “Hear me out, Lance. It's not like she picked the lock. She walked in because the door was open.”

“So it would be okay if your door was open a crack and a complete stranger walked into your apartment?”

“Well--”

“With your fiancee in the place...”

“Lance--”

“Alone and completely defenseless?”

“Dude,” Chris said assertively as Justin stood back, sitting in the middle of their argument. “Chill the fuck out, okay? Of course it wouldn't be okay, I'm not saying it would be. What I'm saying is that we've gotten to know Melissa a little better now. And we don't like her very much, me and you, yeah – but do we really think she's capable of murdering that guy?”

“So because she's short, blonde, and cute, that means she's not capable of killing a guy?” Lance asked.

“Lance, let's face it,” Chris said. “If she was capable of murder, and she was going to kill anybody close to you and Addy to get back at you, I'd clearly be the one buried six feet under with a bullet in my head right now.”

Lance tilted his head and looked away. Unfortunately, he found that was logic that he couldn't argue with.

“Boys,” Abrams interrupted, “you really needn't worry about your friend Ms. Weston. As I said, we've been to her apartment, questioned her, checked her alibis and records, and she's been cleared from our suspect list.”

“Then who else do you have?” Justin asked. He found it was funny that he seemed to be taking point in this conversation, since it was Lance's fight – but he was sure Lance had the same questions he did. “What the hell are you doing to catch this person?”

“We've combed over the victim's phone records and bank records unscrupulously,” Abrams said, almost defensively. “Once we were reasonably confident that he wasn't involved in any questionable activity that may have nothing to do with this stalking case, we moved on to the assumption that the two cases were connected. We've checked out the majority of Mr. Bass's and Ms. James's friends and family and have cleared several people, and the ones who haven't been cleared are low on our radar. The one unanswered question we have right now is Ms. James's ex-husband.”

“Marc?” Lance suddenly jumped up from his relaxed position of leaning back in the chair. “What about Marc?”

Abrams looked between the three men, including Chris who had much the same reaction as Lance.

“We got some new information. It appears that he's gone completely missing,” he said, pulling out a separate manila folder and placed it in front of him, opening it. “His secretary filed a missing person's report on April 16th stating he hadn't shown in his office for almost a week and he hadn't been scheduled for any business-related travel that she knew of.”

“That was only a couple weeks after the divorce,” Lance said. “And a couple weeks before we left Los Angeles.”

“Yes, exactly.” Abrams pulled a paper from the middle of the folder and scooted it in front of Lance. “His credit card was last used on April 14th at a convenience store west of Los Angeles, so LAPD pulled the security camera footage and we had them send us these copies.”

Lance leaned in front of him and looked at the grainy black and white image in front of him, combing over the blurry facial features of the cashier and the customer, the person they assumed was Marc.

“He made a small purchase before he pulled out of the parking lot in his vehicle.”

The detective placed another grainy picture in front of Lance; although it was black and white, he could clearly see the Jaguar – the same one that Addy had vandalized that day in the parking garage. He fought back a small grin.

“Well, it's grainy, but that's definitely Marc,” Lance said.

“This is the last record that the LAPD has found of him. None of his credit cards or bank accounts have been used since that day, he hasn't tried to use his name to rent any vehicles or hotel rooms, and a check on his social security number shows that he hasn't attempted it to use it to attain any new employment or housing. His house in LA was searched only to find that it was still in the same condition he left it, but it didn't appear that anyone had lived there for several weeks.”

Chris was able to lean over to take a peek at the two photos before the detective pulled them away and put them back in his folder.

“So, what does that mean exactly?” Chris asked. “Is he on the run or something? Is he a suspect?”

“Currently, all indications are that there's no way he could be a suspect.”

“What does that mean?” Justin repeated from Chris, cautiously.

Abrams paused and ran his fingers through his dark black hair. This was the part of his job he disliked.

“Most of the time,” he said, taking a breath, “in cases such as this, where the person who has gone missing has a traumatic life event – such as a death in the family, a divorce, etcetera – take place only weeks before they disappear...unless any evidence arises pointing to the contrary, authorities assume that they may have taken their own life.”

“Suicide?” Lance asked.

“We believe that may have been the case.”

None of the three exhaled a breath. Lance had been standing in front of the guy less than three months ago, staring him down in front of the courtroom. He had acted so egotistical, so sure of himself. The thought that the man could have killed himself blew his mind.

“Whoa,” Chris said softly, expressing the emotion that Lance was feeling but not saying.

“His Jaguar was found abandoned in the parking lot at the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco, which is unfortunately common for suicides on that bridge.”

“So, does that mean he's cleared too?” Lance asked, still uncomfortable with the idea.

“Well, not exactly,” Abrams said. “Right now, he's presumed deceased – but without a body, his missing person's case can't officially be closed. And unless either his body is recovered and he's officially declared deceased or he shows up alive and it turns out he went on a vacation without telling anybody, we can't completely clear him from our investigation. Right now, it's up to the California authorities to deal with his case, because it's not our jurisdiction – but we're keeping the LA and San Francisco offices on speed dial. They're to notify us immediately if they find out anything more, big or small.”

Lance sighed – it was all so much to take in and not at all how he had hoped that this visit would turn out. In addition to not having any more answers than he had this morning about the stalking and the murder, he had the new burden of knowing that Marc was missing and possibly even dead. He despised the man, but he didn't wish him dead.

“We're doing all that we can for you,” Abrams said reassuringly. “This case will not leave our desks until it's solved. It's my main case right now – in fact, I've taken some of the files home with me at night, in case I've overlooked anything. You have my personal assurance that we're working on it.”

“What about Marc's case?” Lance asked.

“Yeah, I have a question about that,” Chris said. “He's this big-wig film director. How have we not heard about this yet? An Academy Award-winning director goes missing and possibly commits suicide and it's not splashed all over the tabloids by the next morning?”

“That's exactly why it's not splashed all over the tabloids – it's a high-profile case of a sensitive nature, a lot like this one. There's been some local publicity but most of it is being kept on the down-low and hasn't reached nationally yet. The LAPD are thinking that it's possible that he didn't commit suicide, but possibly took off because he's been under high stress. The death of his daughter, a messy divorce, plus his career...sometimes it gets to be too much.”

“Tell me about it,” Lance mumbled to himself.

“They're holding out hope that without extra publicity, he'll get it out of his system and show up alive.”

“What does that mean for our case if he does? No credit card purchases, no phone records...no trace of him while he was missing. There's nothing to prove his innocence or guilt.”

“We're not quite sure of that right now,” Abrams admitted. “But we're taking it one day at a time. We'll conquer that when we come to it.”

Lance sighed again; he had hoped he could come back home with answers, not even more questions.

“Do you gentlemen have any more questions for me before you leave?”

“No, I think that's all we had for today,” Lance said, hoping that Chris or Justin wouldn't bring something up at the last minute. He wanted to leave this station and go home to process his new information.

Detective Abrams briefly looked from Lance over to Chris and Justin, who only shook their heads.

“Okay then,” he said, standing up from his desk chair. The boys followed suit to stand up and shake hands with the detective. “I'll keep you informed if anything changes, and as always, if you receive any more notes or threats – or anything out of the ordinary, anything at all – please call me right away.”

The boys exited out of the police station a few minutes later and hopped into Lance's Expedition, in a hurry to get away from there as quick as they could. Justin turned the air conditioner on full-blast when they pulled out of the parking lot, in an effort to beat the warm early summer sun that beat more heat down on them every new day.

“Holy fuck,” Justin said.

“Suicide,” Chris said. “That's...”

“Insane,” Lance finished. “Less than three months ago I was standing in front of the guy staring him in his ice cold, empty eyes. The guy is an asshole but I was honestly terrified of him. He's got balls. People like that usually don't commit suicide.”

“You think he did it?” Justin asked.

“I don't know,” Lance said with a shrug, keeping his eyes on the road. “I don't know what to think. I guess it makes sense, though. Addy isn't the only one who lost a daughter – it was his daughter too. And then Addy left him.”

“She left him for you,” Chris said.

“Yeah, but I think that's irrelevant,” Lance responded. “She could have left him for you and he still would have done it – if he did it.”

“You don't think he did?”

“Like I said, I don't know.”

“You're right though,” Justin said. “Melissa's suspicious.”

“You guys seriously think that Melissa did it?” Chris said, leaning up between them in the seat to look from one to the other.

“Chris, open up your fucking eyes man,” Justin said, looking back. “Lance is right. Melissa's always right there when this shit pops up.”

“The first note was hand-delivered inside our apartment, days after Melissa pops up and walks right in our door,” Lance said. “She was standing three feet away from Addy and pointed out the third one to her. And she took my bait yesterday.”

“Bait?” Chris asked, confused.

“I'm not stupid,” Lance said. “Addy suddenly moves out and then Mel comes knocking on my door to find her? I told her where she lived as a test – and she failed.”

“She went and visited her,” Chris said defensively. “They're friends.”

“Then why did she lie straight to Lance's face this morning when he asked her if she'd talked to her yesterday?” Justin asked.

Chris sighed.

“She's hiding something, Chris, and I don't like it,” Lance said. “I don't know what's going on between the two of you, and I don't care what goes on in either of your bedrooms – or what's going on in your pants for her. But if you're smart, you'll stay away from Mel.”

“Chris? Smart?”

“Fucktard,” Chris said, smacking Justin for the insult as he laughed. “Lance, I don't think Mel could do that sort of thing.”

“Your dick doesn't think Mel could do that sort of thing,” Justin retorted. “Lance and I know better because the blood is actually flowing to our brains.”

Chris went silent and leaned back in the seat, tired of getting insulted.

“So let's send Melly-girl our own personal little message,” Justin said as he turned to Lance, a grim smirk on his face.

“A message?” Lance asked with raised eyebrows.

“Yeah,” Justin said. “A little return love letter letting her know we're onto her. Compliments of me and you.”

Chapter 16 – Below The Belt

When he called that morning and asked if he could stop by that day to talk to her about something “very important,” all she could think was thank God this time she could prepare.

This time she had a chance to hide the prenatal vitamins that she had carelessly left out on the bathroom counter. She had time to hide the tons of safe, natural remedies she had thought of to help relieve the superhuman morning sickness she had been experiencing lately. She had the opportunity to go through her closet and pick out the least “baby bump revealing” outfit she could manage, still paranoid that he would notice the change.

And she used the time she had to hide the three home pregnancy tests she'd bought while out that weekend and taken herself – to make sure that the doctor's tests couldn't possibly be wrong.

By the time she had finished proofing the place for his arrival, she had barely enough time to make a pot of coffee before he knocked on the door.

“Hi,” he said when she opened the door to him.

“Hi,” she said cautiously.

She let him in without another word, noticing that he had seemed to dress up for the occasion – black slacks and one of his casual suit jackets.

“You want some coffee?” she asked.

“No, that's okay,” he responded. “I won't be here that long, I have some...things to do.”

He couldn't help but notice that she was dressed up more than usual today, wearing a flowing, knee-length black pleated dress with her hair thrown up in a bun.

“You look nice,” he said. “I've never seen that dress on you.”

“Thanks,” she said as she poured her coffee. She resisted the urge to tell him that he'd never seen it because she didn't wear it, that it was so loose it made her look pregnant – but today, it did a better job of hiding that than anything.

“Are you going somewhere today?” he asked.

“Is this casual conversation or interrogation?” she asked.

He sighed. “Addy, I'm sorry about what I said the other day. I was mad.”

“I noticed.”

He watched as she walked around her kitchen, her body language telling him that she was upset at him. He wanted to walk to her and wrap his arms around her to try to bridge the growing gap between them, but he resisted knowing it would probably make things worse.

“It was a jackass thing to say,” he said, stuffing his hands in the pocket of his suit jacket. “I shouldn't have said it. It's just, you left so suddenly and won't tell me why. When I saw what that note said, it crossed my mind. It worried me.”

She paused and turned to look at him, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Did you ever consider that whoever left that note might have lied to make you think that?” she asked. “And that you fell for it, exactly like they wanted you to?”

“After I cooled down and stopped to think about it, yes,” he said.

“Of course it was after.”

“I know you're upset at me,” he said. “I don't blame you.”

“Oh,” she scoffed. “It's good to know that you don't blame me. It doesn't change the fact that you don't trust me, either.”

“I can't defend myself and I'm not trying to. But wouldn't it cross your mind, too? We have a history, Ad. We can't change that.”

“No, we can't,” she said softly.

He knew what she was going to do, so he was prepared when she came walking through the kitchen and into the living room, trying to pass right by him without giving him an acknowledgment. He reached out and grabbed her arm lightly, stopping her in her tracks.

If she'd filled her mug all the way to the top, the sudden jolt would have sloshed the liquid out the sides. She wasn't prepared for it, so the feel of his touch on her arm took her by surprise. She hadn't felt his touch in days, since she'd last wrapped her arms around him before she walked out that night. Suddenly, she couldn't feel so cold toward him – and it scared her.

He reached over with his other hand and grabbed her coffee mug out of her hand, placing it on top of a stack of boxes she had scooted toward the wall in the living room. He turned her slightly toward him and she breathed in deeply as he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her closer to him.

“I do trust you,” he said, barely above a whisper, holding her closely. “I'm terrified of losing you, Addy.”

“Why do you think you'll lose me?” she asked, feeling slightly breathless with his face inches from hers and his warm hand resting on the small of her back.

“Because I lost you once. We've had some rough times. I'm afraid that it will get too rough and you'll move on.”

He leaned down and after taking it slow at first, not sure of the reaction he would get, he rested his lips on hers. It was uncomfortable for her at first, but after only a few moments, she warmed up to him.

Before she knew it, she found her hands snaking up his back and across his neck, winding through his hair. This only encouraged him, and she eventually found her running her hands across his chest, removing his suit jacket and letting it fall to the floor.

This was the part she had found most difficult about the pregnancy so far – raging hormones. They made her angry at one moment, about to burst into tears at the next, and when she felt his hand reach down and start making its way up her leg under her dress, ready to jump him like a mountain lion.

They made their way to her bedroom wordlessly. His shirt was unbuttoned and off before he hit the threshold, her laughing when he tossed it and it landed on the hallway floor. She struggled with her wedge heels, not even bothering with leverage as she lifted her leg to remove them. She lost her balance removing the second and nearly tipped over, him catching her by the arm.

Quickly after, they fell into her bed. He worked on her dress quickly, lifting it above her head in one piece and leaving her in only her undergarments – and she lost those soon too. She didn't think she'd ever seen him lose his clothes so fast as long as she'd been with him. He liked sex as much as any other guy, and they always had an average sex life that flowed with what was going on in their lives – waxing and waning with stress and exhaustion and busy schedules.

This time, she noticed something seemed to click in him. He was a bit more of an animal than she was used to when it came to them making love. She thought it was amazing; savoring every kiss he placed on her body. No inch of skin was left untouched, whether it was by his fingers or his lips. It worried her having him so close and in such an intimate setting, her discussion with Mel from a few days before fresh in her mind, but she soon realized he was too distracted to notice anything different about her.

And that was fine by her.

“We need to fight more often,” she said as she laid next to him, facing away from him.

He chuckled lazily. “Mmm-hmm.”

“I thought you had errands to run,” she said.

“Addy...I lied,” he said.

Surprised, she rolled her body to face him and leaned up on her elbow. “Why?”

“To be honest, I wasn't exactly thrilled about coming here and having to tell you...what I had to tell you.”

She narrowed her eyebrows, noticing that his demeanor had drastically changed.

“Lance, what is it?”

He paused before looking over at her, never lifting his head from the pillow.

“You remember that I went to talk to Abrams yesterday?”

Her heart jumped. “Did they find out anything? Did they solve the case?”

“No, Addy,” he said. “And I don't think they will for a while.”

She leaned up, covering her naked body with her loose sheets.

“Why? What did he say?”

He sighed, lifted his hand to run it over his face and the stubble he hadn't shaved for a couple of days, and finally through his hair. Then he leaned up slightly, using both his elbows as a perch.

“Addy, it's Marc. He's...he's gone missing.”

She narrowed her eyebrows.

“What do you mean?”

“They think he's dead,” he finally said.

She was quiet for a few moments. He wasn't sure how she would take the news. It was hard to judge, and he couldn't even take a guess. She had divorced him and afterward wanted nothing to do with him; but at one time, she did love him. She had to have had strong feelings – after all, they were married. He was still a part of her life, even if she had cut his physical presence out of it. They had shared a history, and shared memories. He wouldn't blame her if the news upset her.

He watched her for a few moments, trying to judge if the news had sunk in.

“No,” she finally said, shaking her head slightly. “That's...that's ridiculous. Why would he be dead? How? He's in Los Angeles. That's impossible. He was in Los Angeles.”

“He didn't show up for work one day, and his secretary hasn't seen him since.”

“It's a mistake,” she said. “They've made some kind of mistake.”

“Addy, it's not a mistake,” he said.

“He's on vacation. He's working. He goes overseas all the time...”

“Addy,” he said forcefully.

“It must be the wrong guy. It has to be. They made a mistake.”

“Addy!”

He had to yell and grab her arm to shake her back into reality. He could see that she was quickly losing it, and he couldn't say that he was all that surprised.

“No, Lance,” she said forcefully. He could see that she was moments away from bursting into tears. “No.”

“They found his car,” he said, grasping her arm tightly. “At the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco. They think he killed himself.”

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“Are you sure?”

She had asked him that at least half a dozen times. He had managed to get dressed, half buttoning his shirt, not even noticing that he had buttoned it unevenly. She had composed herself enough to put on a shirt and jeans, not even quite sure if they were clean or dirty. She had made her way to the kitchen table while he maneuvered her half-empty kitchen trying to make her a cup of tea to calm her down.

“I'm sure,” he said, setting the mug that he had spent five minutes rummaging through their old boxes for in front of her.

“I can't believe it,” she said, shaking her head. “I don't want to believe it. Why would he kill himself?”

“Baby, you guys got divorced,” he said. “Far be it from me to actually defend the asshole after all he put us through, but he fought hard for you. It was a hellish divorce. I don't know, maybe it got to be...too much, or something.”

“He wouldn't kill himself, Lance,” she said. “I know him.”

“You know him?” he asked, resisting the urge to laugh. “Addy, he slept with half of Hollywood before you finally caught onto him. He hired a private investigator who lived in our building for four months that we never knew about. I don't think you should try to write his bio anytime soon.”

“I may not have known about all the things he was doing on the side, but damn it Lance I knew my own husband!” she yelled. “I knew him well enough to know that it wasn't this bad, that he'd run off and try to kill himself!”

“You know, we don't even know if he really did kill himself,” he said. “They haven't found a body, just his abandoned car. We don't know anything yet, Ad.”

They were both silent for a few moments, her trying to hold back her sobs.

“You think it's him, don't you?” she finally asked.

He paused. “Does it matter what I think?”

“You think something,” she said. “I know you, too.”

He chuckled. “Hopefully better than you knew him.”

“It's why you came here, isn't it?” she asked. “To tell me you think it's him. That you think my ex-husband is a murderer.”

“Can you explain why he would up and disappear? Why his car would turn up at a well-known hotspot for suicides? Isn't it all a little too convenient to be a coincidence?”

“Did you ever think that whoever killed Carlos killed Marc, too?” she asked. “That we've been followed since Los Angeles, they killed him and abandoned his car at the Bridge to make it look like he killed himself, knowing that's what the cops would believe?”

He sighed in frustration and leaned against the counter.

“I think it's Mackenzie.”

He turned his head to look at her.

“Are you serious?” he asked.

“Like she wouldn't have motive?” she asked, raising her voice again. “You left her days before your wedding and ran off to be with me in Los Angeles. She has more motive than anyone does!”

“I know you have a good reason, but damn Addy, you've had it in for Mackenzie from day one,” he said. “Let it go already.”

“She showed up randomly at the coffee shop the day I got the first note, Lance. Wearing a wig and sunglasses. That's not odd to you, at all?”

“You know what I think is odd?” he asked. “The fact that your friend Melissa moved in right across the hall from us a couple of months before we came back, and then this starts happening. That's pretty damn coincidental too.”

“Are you trying to accuse Mel now?”

“I'm not trying,” he said. “I am.”

“So in other words, everybody in my life is a suspect, but nobody in yours is?” she asked.

“Do you know anything about her? Do you know what city in Arkansas she came from? Where her parents live? Their names? The name of the old accounting firm she used to work for? It's like she doesn't have a history, because she's never told us anything personal about herself. Her apartment is practically empty, almost as if she's keeping it that way in case she needs to get out of town in a hurry.”

“Some people are private. You're blowing this way out of proportion.”

“Am I?”

“Lance, she's my friend.”

“I know, she made sure of that when we moved back in,” he said. “She took to you like a bee to a hive.”

“You've had it in for Mel since day one,” she said.

“Then I guess we're even, aren't we?”

She was about to yell, not caring if it would result in a knockdown, drag out fight when her cell phone rang from her purse. He knew it when he heard it, the familiar “Pop” ringtone that she reserved for one person – Melissa.

“Addy, you need to stay away from her,” he said when she popped up from her chair and walked toward her purse. “She's trouble, and I know it.”

“You...” she said, pointing at Lance before reaching into her purse and grabbing the ringing phone. “You need to stay out of it. She's my friend, and you won't change that.”

He stayed quiet as she answered the phone, and as he had assumed, started talking to Melissa right away. It was only a few seconds before they got lost in conversation, Addy trying to console Mel down from something she apparently deemed a “major emergency”, enough of an emergency to walk away from him and into the bedroom without any further acknowledgment or a goodbye.

He simply gathered his suit jacket and threw it over his shoulders, grabbing the keys before he walked out of the apartment. If she didn't want to heed his warnings about Melissa, he would take matters into his own hands.

Melissa would get what she deserved.

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“Where the hell have you been?”

The minute Lance stepped in the door, Justin was practically in his face, yelling.

“I've been waiting for you all damn day!” he said. “I thought you weren't gonna make it in time!”

“Calm down, Justin,” Lance said, shrugging his suit jacket off his slumped shoulders. “Jesus, it's not the end of the world.”

“Do you know how long it took for me to set this whole thing up?” Justin asked. “All the work I had to put in? The favors I had to call in? The people I had to deal with?”

Lance laughed. “Christ J, you act like you had to set up a hit on the girl.”

“Hey, this took time...planning...a cunning, brilliant mind, damn it. The least I ask in return is for you to be here on time to see it go down!”

“Well, I'm here now,” Lance said. “Happy?”

“Maybe,” Justin said, turning his nose up.

After Lance had made himself more comfortable, untucking his dress shirt from his pants, Justin led him over to the front door. He crouched on his knees next to it and reached up to turn the doorknob quietly, slipping it open a sliver.

“So we're just going to sit here and wait for it?” Lance asked, kneeling next to him.

“You wanna set up lawn chairs in the hallway and pop popcorn?” Justin asked sarcastically.

Lance sneered. “Well what the hell time is she supposed to get home anyway?”

“Do I look like I know her fucking schedule?” Justin whispered harshly. “Yesterday she was home around six, I assume she'll get home around the same time tonight. It's 5:45 – so we wait here. But damn, you gotta be quiet, or we're gonna get caught.”

“Are you sure this is going to work?” Lance asked.

“It's gonna work.” Justin grinned. “It's definitely gonna work.”

They sat in silence a few moments, the door open a crack – enough so that they could both use a single eye to peek out the door. Every time he heard the elevator down the hall make the familiar ding, Justin would open the door an inch and slip his head out enough to peek down the hall. Lance quickly became uncomfortable in the position he was knelt in, Justin taking up most of the space in front of the door, and shifted.

“Where'd you get the stuff for this anyway?” Lance finally asked.

Justin glanced back quickly. “I got connections in this city.”

Lance looked over, narrowing his eyebrows. “Justin, what the hell kind of people do you hang out with?”

Justin was about to answer when he heard the elevator ding. He slipped his head out again and quickly dipped it back in, turning to Lance behind him.

“Shhh, it's her!” he whispered.

They both shrunk back from the door as Justin shut the door so that they could only see out a sliver again and couldn't easily be detected.

It was hard to see, but Lance could hear her; and then finally, he saw her walk to her door, her usual tote bag thrown over her shoulder. Her back towards them, she stood in front of her door and reached into her bag, pulling out her keys.

She searched through each key, finally finding the correct one and putting it into the lock. They each held their breath as they heard the key turn and the mechanism unlock in the dead silent hallway. Lance felt Justin's shoulders tense up and him lean forward slightly as they watched her turn the knob, open the door, step inside, and finally push the door open all the way.

Lance almost swore he heard Justin snicker when it happened – when she had barely set her other foot inside and it came falling out from the ceiling above her.

A shower of tomato sauce, crushed rotten tomatoes, and chunks of rotten meat came down on her, soaking her from head to toe in red goop. It took her by surprise at first; they heard her suck in a loud breath as it hit her hair and continued to fall down her face, shoulders, and the rest of her body. She stood in shock for a moment, her back toward the hallway, not quite knowing what had hit her or how. They saw the tote bag slide off her shoulder as she lowered her arms, finally falling into the red puddle of mess that had built up at her feet.

When they saw her start to turn her body to face the hallway slowly, Justin pushed the door closed a bit, fearing that they could be seen. When she finally faced them, each man let a smile flash across his face as they took in her shocked expression, knowing they had gotten her. They waited with bated breaths for her next reaction, not sure what she would do.

They were shocked when Melissa burst into tears right inside her apartment door.

Chapter 17 – Fair Fight

Adeline was the first to arrive at the apartment. She rode the elevator up to the third floor, rushing off the elevator and down the hallway trying to get to the door as quickly as she could. When Mel had called her for the second time that day in tears, she wouldn't tell her what was wrong. She asked, sobbing, if Addy could come over as soon as possible. The way the atmosphere had been surrounding them lately, it worried her that something serious had happened.

She bypassed Lance's door without even thinking twice about it, rushing to the door across the hall from her old apartment. Without bothering to knock, she turned the doorknob to let herself in.

The first thing she was hit with was the smell – the rancid, putrid smell. Her nose twisted up and her already sensitive stomach lurched.

“Oh my God,” she said as her hand immediately went to her nose, trying to shield it from the smell.

The second thing she noticed was that her feet, just inside the door, were standing in some sort of red, slippery mess covering the carpet in front of the door. Seeing it reminded her of the pooled blood at the crime scene from less than two weeks ago.

“Mel!” she yelled, suddenly panicked.

“I'm over here.”

She heard the tearful voice from her left and looked down to see Melissa sitting on the floor, her back leaned against the wall, covered in the same red mess from head to toe.

“Mel, what happened?” she asked as she closed the door and stepped as best as she could over the mess in front of it to walk over to her friend. “And God, what's that smell?”

Instead of answering, Melissa immediately burst into more tears, burying her head in her hands.

“Oh Mel...”

Addy could only carefully step by the mess and lean down to offer her friend comfort. Earlier that afternoon, Melissa had called her in a panic in the midst of the fight with Lance. She had lost her job, and was reduced to tears. Adeline had to talk her down from all of it, and by the time that Melissa was calmed down and she had gone back out to the living room, Lance was long gone.

“Let's get you in the shower and some new clothes,” Addy said to her friend.

After she managed to get a hot shower run for Mel and some clean and comfortable clothes set out for her, she called Chris to come over immediately. She knew that Chris had a soft spot for Mel even if he wouldn't admit it to himself. Melissa needed comfort and the apartment needed cleaned, and she knew that she wouldn't be able to do that herself. She was hardly able to stand the stench of the rotten tomatoes and meat that hung in the air as it was, and she was afraid that if she had to clean it up, she might lose her lunch.

She was opening all the windows in the apartment she could find when Melissa finally came into the living room, clean but still in tears.

“Look at this place,” she cried. “The carpet is ruined. I'll never get my security deposit back on this. My landlord is going to kill me.”

“Don't worry about that right now,” Addy said, moving immediately to the kitchen to pour Melissa a cold glass of water. “Chris is on his way over. He can work on cleaning the carpet. You sit down and try to calm yourself down.”

“Calm down?” Melissa said. “First my job, and now this! Addy, who would have done this? Who would have thought to do this to me?”

As Melissa sat down on the couch and Adeline brought her the glass, she turned toward the door, feeling her breathing become heavy.

“I have a pretty good idea,” she said angrily.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Did you see it?”

Lance couldn't help a small smile from crossing his face, watching Justin pump his fists in the air.

“J, I don't know – do you think it was a bit much?”

“Hell no!” Justin said. “Bitch deserved it. Whatever the hell she's up to, we sure knocked her down a few pegs tonight!”

Lance chuckled when Justin pumped his fists in the air again and whooped before holding a palm up to Lance expecting a high-five. Lance reciprocated; he had to admit, watching the whole thing happen in front of him was a small satisfaction to him, knowing that Melissa must have ulterior motives.

It was mean, sure. But it was tame compared to murdering Addy's friend and spending the last month stalking their every move, putting fear into their hearts. Lance only hoped that this would encourage Melissa to stop, and that soon, Abrams would delve deeper into her mysterious life and find something to solve the case and put Melissa away forever.

“Man, I'm pumped,” Justin said. “I could bench press a bus right now.”

“Slow down there, Hulk,” Lance said, chuckling and rolling his eyes slightly.

When he heard a knock on the door, he stood up out of his seat to walk to the door, leaving Justin in the kitchen basking in the glory of his own “cunning mind”. He had barely opened the door when he felt a heavy object hit his chest.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!” Adeline yelled, wielding her purse in her throwing hand.

He fell back a few steps in shock when she swung again, not having time to shield himself from the attack, this time the purse hitting him in the head.

“Ow! Ad--”

“Don't you dare Ad me,” she snarled, catching him with a look. When Justin made his way into the room hearing the commotion, she turned to him. “Just what the hell is wrong with the two of you?”

Lance wasn't sure what to say, his eyes going to Melissa's door, to Justin, then back to Adeline.

“She's over there bawling,” Adeline said, pointing back to the door across the hallway. “Because you and Justin decided to make asses out of yourselves. Chris has no idea when to shut up, he means no harm. But you two...” She waved her hand in Justin's direction, swinging the purse again, making Lance shy away. “You two have to utterly humiliate her.”

“How do you even know her, Addy?” Lance asked. “I mean, she suddenly moved in from God knows where. You and Chris act like she's the best thing ever. I don't trust her.”

“And because of that, you have to make a total ass out of yourself?” she yelled. “What purpose did this serve? If she is up to something that we don't know about, what did this accomplish? That call I got from her today, Lance? She lost her fucking job. She was in tears. She has no idea how she's going to keep paying for school or her apartment. She doesn't know where she's going to live.”

“Addy...I...” Lance sighed. “I'm sorry.”

“I'm not the one you need to say that to,” she said, her tone disappointed.

As the three of them were searching for something to say, Lance's door burst open. Chris, looking fit to kill, pushed past Addy and bypassed Lance, stomping directly to Justin. Before Justin could take two steps back in reaction, Chris's fist was already reared up in mid-flight, connecting with Justin's nose in a split-second.

“You asshole!” he yelled.

Justin had fallen back to the floor on his rear after the hard blow, looking stunned as he held his hand to his nose, blood dripping.

“Chris--”

“Don't, Addy,” Chris said in warning to stop her. “It was all his fucking idea. He needed to be knocked down a notch.”

Chris turned away from Justin as he was still trying to recover from the punch to the face, and looked at Lance.

“The only reason I'm not knocking your ass into the ground right now is because I don't want her to see it,” he said, pointing at Addy before he walked out of the apartment, as mad as he had walked in, slamming the door behind him.

“I've seen you do some horrible things, Lance,” she said, “but this is the worst. I thought you were a better person than this.”

All he could do was look at the ground as she walked out of the apartment after Chris, feeling ashamed of himself.

“Fuck,” Justin said with a groan, looking at the blood covering his hand. “That hurt.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Adeline stepped out of the apartment, Chris was standing in the hallway, pacing back and forth. She could tell that his adrenaline was rushing, especially after having witnessed him knock Justin to the ground and threatening to do the same to Lance.

“I think you broke his nose,” she said.

“Little fucker,” Chris spat. “He deserved it. Who does something like this? I mean we played pranks back when we were touring on the buses, but nothing like this shit.”

“Still got any of those tricks left in you?” she asked.

Chris looked up at her, seeing that she had a coy smile on her face.

“What are you up to, woman?” he asked.

“I'm Lance's fiancee. I know him as well as you boys do, possibly even better. I know his one weakness – but a magician never reveals her secrets.”

He couldn't help but smile.

“Get Mel together. Then both of you meet me at the seafood market downtown in about an hour,” she said. “Don't ask questions. You let me handle this one.”

She shot him one more smile before she turned.

“He wants to fight? Let's make it a fair fight,” she said before she walked away toward the elevator.

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Five days later

“No offense Lance, but I've never had a worse vacation in my life.”

Lance looked back at Justin as they walked out of his apartment building's lobby, chuckling to himself as he saw Justin's bruised, swollen and taped broken nose.

“It's your own fault, you dumbass,” he said as he dragged one of Justin's suitcases at his side. “You and your cunning mind.”

“Thanks for the sympathy.”

“Hey, I've got problems of my own,” he said, moving to the driver's side of his SUV and setting the suitcase on the ground. “Thanks to you, my fiancee is so pissed off at me she'll barely even talk to me. I'd break your nose if it wasn't already broken.”

“Y'all really know how to make a guy feel welcome,” Justin said sarcastically, stepping up beside Lance. “I'm never coming back to New York again.”

“Good,” Lance said, pulling his keys out of his jeans pocket. “You've been here a week and you've brought nothing but trouble. We don't want you anymore.”

Justin stood beside him sulking as Lance pressed the button to unlock the doors to the car, opening the driver's side door while Justin reached for the back passenger side to pile his suitcases in. Lance was about to duck into his seat when the smell hit his nose.

“Jesus Christ, what's that smell?” Justin yelled before Lance could.

They both dropped what they held in their hands, turning away from the car and covering their mouths and noses. Lance coughed and Justin gagged, unable to get the rancid smell out of their noses.

“What'd you leave in your car, man?” Justin said between gags.

“God, nothing!” Lance yelled.

“Smells like something died in there!” Justin said.

It took a few moments for Lance's nostrils to recover from the way the smell hit him, and a few more to get the guts to get anywhere closer to his car. He covered his nose with his gray t-shirt, hoping it would help, and dipped his head into the driver's seat.

It took a few seconds with his breath held for him to find it, sitting right there on his passenger seat.

He pulled out the dead fish first, holding it up and resisting the urge to puke at the smell before dropping it on the ground near Justin, who only further proceeded to cough and gag at the smell. He covered his nose once more with his shirt to dip back in quickly and grab the paper left on the passenger seat.

“Another one?” Justin asked, seeing the paper in his hand.

“I have a feeling it's not from the stalker,” Lance said through his shirt as he read the words on the paper.

Check and mate, baby. Have fun getting the smell of five-day-old rotting sea bass out of your precious Escalade. (See what I did there?)

Kisses, Addy

“Y'all are fucking insane,” Justin said after he finished reading the paper. Steeling himself, he opened the back passenger seat and started throwing his suitcases in, closing it with a slam before rushing over to the front passenger seat. “Get me the hell out of here, I'm over New York.”

Chapter 18 – Out From Under

One week later

Adeline rubbed the sleep out of her eyes as she threw a robe over her body, covering the pink tank top and sleep shorts. She caught a glance in the mirror on the dresser as she walked away from her bed, seeing the growing bump in her stomach. She sighed to herself before wrapping the robe tightly around her body and tying the sash as she walked out of her bedroom.

After she had poured her coffee in the kitchen, she reached into the cabinet and pulled out the prescription bottle, swallowing one of the prenatal vitamins as she took her first drink and replacing the bottle.

She hadn't spoken to Lance much the past week. After the stunt he had pulled, she was so angry at him that she hardly wanted to see his face. She mostly managed his schedule by phone and email that whole time, keeping their conversations only to that. She'd heard from Melissa about his reaction to her “return fire”, and had taken a day to revel in her own evilness that she didn't know she had in her.

That was about as long as it took to hear from Mel and Chris that not only had Lance sent flowers and a professional carpet cleaning company to her door, but personal apologies to the both of them as well for his “asinine” behavior.

Things had seemed to return to normal for the rest of them since then and they had come to a truce, but she was still stuck in a limbo of emotions. Hearing that Marc was a missing person and was possibly dead had shaken her to her core. It almost...hurt. It was a confusing feeling for her, considering that after that day at the courthouse when the divorce was finalized, she had been grateful to have him out of her life.

In addition, she couldn't forget the conversation she'd had with Melissa. At twelve weeks, her baby bump was quite visible now – too visible, in fact. It was becoming harder and harder to hide with her normal clothes. All of her jeans had now become too tight for comfort, as well as most of her slacks. At home she could lounge around in stretchy yoga pants and t-shirts, but when she had to go anywhere, her only saving grace were the dresses in her closet that still fit.

Time was closing in on her. She wouldn't be able to hide it from him for much longer...and she was no closer to deciding when or how she would break the news to him.

She sat her coffee on the kitchen table and walked to her door, intent on grabbing the newspaper from outside her front door. When she opened it and saw it laying on the ground, she couldn't say she was surprised.

On top of her newspaper that couldn't have been delivered more than twenty minutes ago, was another note, tied to a red rose and a sprig of violets.

She picked it up cautiously, looking it over quickly before slamming her door closed and locking both the doorknob and the deadbolt that she'd had installed the week before. She immediately turned over the card, reading the words on it.

Roses are red, violets are blue...it was cute watching you guys fight and turn against each other, but I'm not done – I've still got more here to do...

Taped to the small card was a single match. She had no idea what it meant. She was sure it was meant to deliver some kind of sick threat, but she was so scatter-brained that she wasn't sure what that could be. She ran to the cell phone in her purse and did the only thing she knew she could do – call Lance.

Seeing as it was eight in the morning, he answered the phone half-asleep.

“Hello?”

“Wake up. I got another one.”

He groaned, but she could hear from the background noise that he immediately got out of bed and was working to get dressed.

“What's it say?”

She repeated the whole note to him as she had read it.

“Oh cute, we've got a poet,” he scoffed. “I'll be there – give me, like, half an hour.”

Forty-five minutes later, a knock on the door startled her. She got up and looked out the peephole of the door. Seeing it was Lance, she unlocked the door and the deadbolt.

“You're late,” she said.

“Good to see you too, Ad. I've missed you, too. I'm good, thanks for asking.”

“Sorry,” she said apologetically. She pulled him inside and locked up the door and the deadbolt. “I'm a little on edge.”

“Where is it?”

She could tell he wasn't exactly pleased to be here – whether it was because of the early morning, the new note, or the fact that he was here at her apartment, she didn't know. Things hadn't been great between them, and this was not the way she had wanted to end this week, with him or with a new note.

She sighed deep, yearning for her old life and her old fiance back.

“I woke up around eight this morning,” she said as she went to her kitchen counter to grab them. “The paper is delivered between 7:30 and 7:45, always. I've never seen it come earlier or later. Sometimes, I've met the boy at the door. So when I woke up, I automatically went to get my newspaper, and there it was, right on top.”

She handed them to him, and he looked it over.

“The paper boy wouldn't have put the newspaper under the note. He would have put it beside it. So the note had to have been delivered between then and the time I woke up.”

“Did you call the cops?”

“What are they going to do, Lance?” she asked. “We've already turned the notes from before over to them. They've got nothing.”

“Abrams said to call him the minute we got another one,” he said, already pulling his phone out of his pocket.

“I'll get dressed,” she said with a sigh.

Another half-hour later, Detective Abrams showed up on her doorstep. She sat back on the couch while Lance and the detective talked to each other. Lance handed over the note to him, still tied to the rose and the violets, and specifically pointed out the match that was still taped to the card.

“Well, that is strange,” the detective said.

“What does it mean?” Adeline asked.

“Well we can't be sure, but under the circumstances I'd definitely say it's a threat,” he responded. “He's escalating.”

Adeline heard Lance heave a sigh from next to her.

“It's a guy then?” she asked.

“Well we're not sure, Ms. James,” he said. “We're going on the assumption that the suspect is a male based on the profile and the wording of the notes that have been left, but profiling isn't always an exact science and we've exhausted all our leads right now.”

“Then what can we do?” Adeline begged. “When are you going to catch this person?”

“Don't worry, Ms. James,” the detective said, picking up on her frustration. “We've had a lot of roadblocks, but we get closer every day. This person will make a mistake eventually, and that's when we'll catch up.”

It was no comfort to her. Every day she became more terrified to leave her apartment, knowing that someone was following her and watching her every move. Even when she was in the safety of her apartment, hiding behind a locked door and a deadbolt, she didn't feel safe.

The detective was out the door after a few questions, taking the note with him for more evidence.

“You think they'll be able to test the card stock they're written on?” she asked Lance as she shut the door.

She noticed that he was already gathering his jacket, throwing it over his body.

“I don't know,” he said.

“Are you leaving?”

“I've, uh...I got some things to do today,” he said, visibly uncomfortable.

“I just...I thought you'd stay a while,” she said.

“I've called Chris,” he said, grabbing his car keys. “He's going to come over and stay with you a while. He said he could be here in about an hour, and he's going to stay the night, hitch on your couch.”

“Can't you stay?” she asked, trying not to sound as if she was begging.

He sighed. “Addy, I can't. Damn it, I need some time to think all this out. I thought we had something so good, and then you...up and left me. It's been two weeks and we've done nothing but fight. This whole situation has taken up so much of my time that I haven't had a chance to think about things.”

“I thought we could use today to talk about it,” she said, feeling the flutter of fear in her stomach. “I have some things I need to talk to you about.”

“It'll have to wait,” he said, already heading toward the door. “I can't do it right now, Ad.”

She moved away from the door as he opened it and stepped outside.

“I'm sorry,” he said to her before he closed the door on her.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chris knocked on her door shortly before the hour deadline was up, awaiting her behind it with several grocery sacks.

“Hey Ad,” he said.

“Hey Chris,” she said, a brief smile on her face. He was inside the apartment within seconds, and she closed the door and activated the deadbolt again. “Sorry that Lance is asking you to babysit me tonight.”

“Babysit? I like hanging out with my Ad.” He reached a free arm out to pull her close to him in a playful manner. “I've got ice cream, chocolate cake, Double Stuffed Oreos, potato chips, beer, and a dozen rented movies. Action, adventure, drama, horror, that romance shit you women like...I even have a dirty one – for good measure,” he said with a wink.

She couldn't stop the grin and the giggle. “Got any insulin for the sugar crash later?”

“Insulin is for pussies,” he joked. “Let's get crazy up in this bitch.”

They spent the entire day watching the various movies that Chris had rented and brought by, pigging out on potato chips and too much sugar through the afternoon and the evening. Adeline had to admit that it was a good time, as if spending the night over at a friend's house. Before either of them knew it night fell, and midnight passed.

It was six in the morning when the movie they were watching finished and Chris popped in the only one they had left that they hadn't yet watched.

“It's been good to have you here, Chris,” Addy said. “I forgot how lonely it can get living by yourself. I guess it's been so long since I've lived alone.”

“You could go back, you know,” he said.

She sighed.

“Why'd you leave, Addy?” he asked. “We all know that you and Lance were happy together. It doesn't make any sense to us.”

She sighed again. “Chris, I did something awful.”

“It couldn't be that bad,” he said.

She took a deep breath. “Chris, I'm pregnant.”

His eyes narrowed in confusion. “You mean...like...it's not Lance's?”

“No, not like that,” she said, shaking her head. “It's definitely Lance's.”

“Addy, that's great!” he said, his eyes wide.

“No, Chris – it's not.”

He saw her sad, stressed expression.

“I'm confused,” he said. “How can this not be good? You both thought you'd never be able to get pregnant. Now you are – that's fantastic!”

“No, Chris, Lance thought I'd never be able to get pregnant.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “Okay, Ad, you got me. I'm a dumbass. What's the punchline here?”

“I lied to him the whole time,” she said, feeling a small relief off her shoulders. “It's not that I can't get pregnant – it's that I'm scared to. I thought we were always on the same page, but then he started asking me why I take birth control if I can't get pregnant. Now he's been wanting to try to get pregnant anyway and...and I'm scared, Chris. I'm so scared.”

“Because of what happened?” he asked softly.

She could only nod.

“I...I don't know what to say,” he stuttered. “I'm speechless. Me, speechless.”

She laughed, despite the fact that tears had made their ways to her eyes.

“How long has this been going on? I mean, how far along are you anyway?”

She reluctantly stood up off the couch and lifted the black hoodie up, pulling it over her head. When she got it to her arms, his eyes moved to her stomach and went wide, seeing how much weight she had gained since he'd last noticed, the tight tank top over her accentuating her stomach.

“Twelve weeks,” she said as she threw the hoodie on the couch.

“Holy shit, Addy,” he said. “You're...look at you!”

“I know,” she said, placing her hand on the bump.

“How are you hiding this? Is Lance blind? How can he not notice...this!”

“A well-planned wardrobe and some good distraction techniques,” she said, the corner of her mouth turning up in a smile.

“You have to tell him, Addy.”

“I know.”

“Like...now.”

“I know, Chris,” she said with a sigh. “But how do you tell a man that you're pregnant with his child and watch him realize he's going to be a father...then watch him realize that your baby might actually...die.”

Seeing her react the way she did, holding her hand to her stomach as if in a desperate attempt to physically hold onto it, he realized that she was in true pain. The loss she had suffered affected her far more than he had ever realized.

“Whatever happens, you still have to tell him,” he urged. “Addy, this baby exists. If something...happens...” The thought was painful for him to think about. “...it doesn't disappear into thin air. He still needs to know. It's his baby...family is everything to Lance.”

“I know, Chris!” she said, having fully broken down into tears. “That's why this hurts so bad. He wants this. I can't stand to think of how much it would hurt him if the same thing happened to his baby.”

“It's going to hurt him regardless,” he said. “It's going to hurt him worse if something happens to this baby and he finds out that you never told him about it. You're not even giving him a chance.”

He stood up and walked over to her, immediately pulling her into a tight hug. She leaned her head into his shoulder and sobbed while he stroked her back.

“This isn't the time to worry about what happened in the past, Ad. I would be worried too...but reducing yourself to this isn't helping the situation. It's not good for the baby. You need to tell Lance and get this off your chest so you can be there for each other right now.”

She sniffled and leaned further into his shoulder.

“I know,” she said. “Now I need to figure out how to do it.”

“He won't care how you tell him,” he said. “All he needs from you right now is honesty, because he's terrified that he's done something to lose you.”

They spent a few minutes standing in her living room, him trying to comfort her. She eventually calmed down, the feeling of his consoling arms around her helping relieve the stress she had been feeling. Suddenly, his phone rang and he reached into his pocket to grab it.

“It's Mel,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

“It's almost 6:30 in the morning,” she said, glancing at the clock quickly. “What would she be calling you for this early?”

“I don't know.” So he didn't miss the call, he answered it, walking into her hallway for privacy. “Hello...”

She sniffled again and wiped the tears away from her face, trying to compose herself. It felt good to talk to Chris about the situation; she felt a weight lifted off her shoulders. Between him and Mel, they'd both brought up good points and made the situation and the solution clearer.

She had to tell Lance. Soon.

“We'll be right there,” Chris said as he rushed back into the room, quickly ending the call and shoving the phone back into his pocket.

Seeing his haste, him running to grab his own coat and hers from the back of the chair, she became worried.

“Chris, what is it?”

“It's Lance and Melissa,” he said as he tossed her coat over to her before struggling to put his own on. “Their apartment building's on fire.”

Chapter 19 – Not Such A Bad Thing (Part One)

Chris drove the whole way there because by that time, she was in no position to drive anywhere. His words rang in her head the whole way.

“Their apartment building's on fire.”

There was a crowd of people gathered chaotically in the parking lot when Chris erratically parked the car and they both rushed out of it. It only took her seconds to find him when she finally got there, and she ran to him breathing a sigh of relief that he was at least sitting up, even if it was in the back of an ambulance with two paramedics hovering over him.

“Lance!”

The minute he heard her voice and saw her running toward him, he opened his arms, which she ran into immediately.

“Oh my God, what happened?” she asked once she had him in the comfort of her arms, feeling him move and breathe. “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine,” he said, welcoming her embrace. “I'll be fine.”

“What happened?” she asked, lifting his face up to look over him.

“The building was on fire,” he said. “Addy, everything's gone.”

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Chris had run behind Addy the whole way there and he knew that she had seen Lance first when she called his name and ran to him. When he was positive that his friend was okay, he turned to look for Melissa, knowing that Addy would likely be glued to Lance's side right now anyway.

He found her in the back of another ambulance, like Lance, with a paramedic hanging over her. The medic was wrapping a blood pressure cuff around her arm when she looked over at him, an oxygen mask over her face.

“Chris,” she said, removing the mask.

“You should keep that on,” the medic said, looking up at her.

“Yeah, yeah,” she said. “Take the blood pressure and mind your own business, buddy.”

“Well, you're still kicking I see,” Chris responded in earnest. “Kicking people in the balls, that is.”

“Because my day couldn't possibly get any worse – you came,” she responded.

“Hey, you called me, remember?” he asked.

“Crap, that's right, I did,” she said, and turned to the paramedic who was still checking her blood pressure. “Can you check for possible brain damage?”

“You asking him for me or you?” Chris asked, hoping to bring a smile to her face.

To his surprise, she smiled. “Just to be on the safe side...him first,” she said to the paramedic.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“He's got some minor smoke inhalation,” the paramedic eventually told Addy as she stood with him, refusing to let him go. “No apparent burns to his respiratory system and his vitals look good. We were going to transport him for some more tests to be on the safe side, but he's refusing.”

“Well that was before I got here,” she said. “He's going.”

“Addy, I'm fine,” he said in protest. “Really. I don't need to go to the hospital. I'm fine.”

“We'll let a doctor determine that,” she said. “You're going.”

He rolled his eyes and caught the glance of the other paramedic, who was standing next to him.

“Women, man.”

The paramedic only chuckled as Adeline stared at Lance.

“You are not scaring me like this and then not going to the hospital to get checked out, James Lance.”

Seeing the terrified look in her face, he softened, grabbing her hands and pulling her toward him.

“If it will make you feel better, I'll go – later,” he said. “Right now, I'd like to spend this time with you.”

Unable to argue with him, she remained silent, only nodding.

“Am I free to go, boys?” he asked as he turned to one of the paramedics.

After the paramedics had released him from their vehicle, he jumped down from the back. She immediately grabbed his arm and pulled him in towards her.

“I don't ever want to get a phone call like that again,” she whispered.

“I'm sorry it scared you,” he said, running a hand through her hair. It had been so long since she had wanted to be in his arms like this, he was going to savor every moment he got.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chris remained silently by Melissa's side as the paramedics checked her over, occasionally glancing back at Addy and Lance. He smiled when he saw Lance holding her closely to him, with her holding on as tightly.

He breathed a sigh of relief when the paramedics let Melissa take off the oxygen mask and gave her the all-clear, telling her to take it easy and go to the hospital if she had any respiratory problems.

“Sorry I called you Chris,” Melissa said. She was surprised when he held his hand out to help her climb out of the back of the ambulance. “I didn't know who else to call. I didn't realize how early it was...”

“Hey, it's okay,” he said. “I'm glad you called. Addy and I were up anyway. What the hell happened, Mel?”

“I still don't know,” she said. She crossed her arms against her chest as they walked the parking lot, fighting off the early morning chill in the light t-shirt she had been sleeping in. “It all happened so fast. By the time we got down here, the whole third floor was on fire – including my apartment.”

By that time, they had joined Addy and Lance.

“Mel, thank God you're okay,” Addy said when she saw her friend. She let go of Lance and grabbed onto Mel, hugging her tightly.

“Only thanks to Lance,” Mel responded. “He made sure I got out.”

Chris and Addy turned to Lance.

“Really?” Chris said, surprised.

“What was I gonna do, let her die?” he said.

“But you thought she was the one stalking me,” Addy said to him.

“Yeah, well...it doesn't make sense for her to try to kill me if she's going to die in the process too, does it?”

Addy and Chris couldn't help but smile.

“Kind of defeats the purpose,” Lance said shyly. “I'm just saying.”

Chris and Addy glanced at each other with smiles on their faces.

“Look at it,” Melissa said, looking up and away from them.

The other three looked up toward the sky. It was then that Addy and Chris could focus on what had led them here – dark gray smoke billowed up in the sky, occasionally clearing enough to see the red and orange flames that appeared to be biting at the silvery clouds. The sun had started rising, painting the sky in multiple colors and shadows.

“That's our apartment,” Addy said sadly.

“Was our apartment,” Lance corrected.

“And Mel's,” Chris said.

“All my stuff is gone,” Mel said, staring at the sight in front of her. “All that I had in the world – gone. I have no idea where I'm going to stay tonight. Since I lost my job I don't have any money...”

“You can stay with me tonight,” Chris said.

Melissa looked down at him in shock, followed by Lance and Addy.

“Really?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Chris responded. “I've got plenty of room for you. You can take my bed and I'll sleep on the couch. It's pretty comfy anyway. I'm not going to let you waste a bunch of money on a hotel room. You can stay there as long as you need to.”

Addy and Lance glanced at each other and smiled when Melissa quietly started crying and ran into Chris's arms, thanking him profusely.

“I guess I better get out of here and try to book a hotel before all the rest of the tenants get to it first,” Lance said.

“You don't have to do that,” Addy said, turning to face him. “Lance, come stay with me.”

“I don't think that's a good idea right now, Addy,” he said. “We're not getting along.”

“That was before you almost died,” she said. “We need to talk about things. I have something that I need to tell you.”

She saw the pained expression on his face as he looked down at the ground, nodding.

“Okay,” he said quietly. “At least for a night.”

Inwardly, she sighed; she realized it was going to be one of the hardest conversations she'd ever had in her life.

“Right now, I need to go buy new clothes and stuff,” he said. “We can pick up some breakfast on our way. They won't need us here for a few hours.”

“Yeah,” she said, feeling his reluctance and her own in return. “Yeah, let's go.”

Anything to distract me from throwing up right now, she thought as she walked off behind him toward his car.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“And we're back in the same apartment. Again.”

She walked into her door, turning on the light and throwing her mail, keys, and the takeout bags of dinner they had picked up on the island counter in the kitchen.

“It's kind of funny though,” he said, setting the bags of clothes and basic necessities that he had picked up for himself next to her stuff. “Like fate is telling us we're not allowed to be away from each other.”

“I guess that's one way to look at it,” she said quietly, picking up the pile of mail and sorting through it to avoid his look. She currently wanted to curl up in a ball and hide under the covers.

They'd had breakfast at a little cafe earlier that morning, her barely able to stomach a muffin and half a cup of coffee between her nerves and her all-out sugar fest with Chris the evening before. They'd been quiet the entire time, occasionally stealing glances at each other but neither ever bringing up a topic of conversation.

They left the cafe quickly and she drove along with him, stopping first at her apartment to change into new clothes herself and then going shopping to pick up a few necessities for him. That was the only time they had talked to one another, while she helped him pick out clothes according to what she thought he would like and what would look good on him. He had bought enough jeans and shirts to last him a few days, while picking up some dressier clothes for any work-related things he might have to do.

They had then picked up a quick lunch, enough for Chris and Melissa in case they were still around, and returned back to the apartment in the hopes that they would find something out. By then, the fire department had gotten the fire put out and were able to go into the building to inspect it.

The official cause was “arson”, as Addy knew it would be – the match attached to the note was too coincidental to ignore the connection. The fire had started in an empty apartment below Lance's, one that had only been vacant for a few days as the previous tenants had moved out in the middle of the month. Once Detective Abrams had been called and shown up, he called it a “crime of opportunity” - saying that their stalker saw his opportunity to strike and snagged it.

“Lance is damn lucky to even be alive right now,” he had said to Adeline.

It had scared her. The thought that she could have lost him had eaten at her all day, regardless of the fact that he was alive and standing in front of her, and nearly unscathed at that – smelling of smoke and with a slight rasp in his throat, but otherwise unscathed.

“Maybe I should go rent a hotel,” he said. “I get the feeling you'd rather not have me here right now, Ad.”

She looked up to see him looking at her.

“No, Lance, don't go,” she said, shaking her head. “You can stay. We're both tired and running on not a lot of sleep, and it's been a stressful day. I had something on my mind, that's all.”

“What's that?” he asked.

“The fact that I almost lost you today,” she said quietly.

“Well, I'm standing right here in front of you now, alive,” he said with the slightest of smiles on his face.

She exhaled a breath and tried to smile, but instead, the tears started coming. He held out his arms and she quickly walked toward him, closing the gap between them before she ran into his grasp and started sobbing into his chest.

All he could do was hold her close to him for the first time in two weeks, running a hand through her hair.

“Shhh, Addy,” he whispered.

It took a few minutes of sobbing and the comfort of his arms, but she knew when the moment was right. She finally felt the courage.

“Lance, I have to tell you something,” she said.

He didn't let go of her, or look down.

“What's that?”

She took a silent, deep breath.

“I'm pregnant.”

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“Long day,” Mel groaned, half-asleep.

Chris walked into his apartment after her, shutting the door behind her.

“Hell of a long day,” he said, throwing his keys haphazardly. They landed on his coffee table as he had aimed, but slid and fell off onto the floor. He considered picking them up before he rethought it. “Oh screw it. I'm running on fumes.”

“Chris, I can't thank you enough for letting me stay here,” Melissa said. “Really. You don't know how much this means to me.”

“I have a pretty good idea,” Chris said with a grin. “You don't have to thank me, Mel. You're a good friend and you're having a rough spot. You're welcome here as long as you need to stay. A day, a week, a month, until you get back on your feet...forever...”

Mel inhaled a breath. Chris had stayed by her side all day – at the apartment while they watched it burn, at lunch when Adeline and Lance had returned to the scene, and then later at the store when Chris had offered to help her buy some new clothes and necessities. The tension between them had been increasing all day, since they had never spent that much time alone with each other before.

“Forever?” Mel asked cautiously.

Chris froze in place, turned away from her.

“It's only an idea, you know,” he said. “I have a spare room. It's my music room now but we could get a bed and dresser and stuff, turn it into a second bedroom. We could be roommates or whatever. You could pay part of the rent when you find another job...if you wanted. Or you could just...stay here rent-free, focus on finishing school instead.”

“Chris, what are you asking?” she asked.

“I don't know, Mel,” he said, shaking his head uncertainly. “Maybe I'm crazy. It crossed my mind that...that maybe it wouldn't be a bad thing to wake up and see you tomorrow, and every day after that.”

“Chris...”

“I fell in love with you,” he said. “I didn't do it on purpose, it just happened.”

She felt herself suck in a breath of air.

“You're in...love with me?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said with a laugh. “Crazy, right?”

She stood there, shocked, as he slightly turned to look at her.

“I've dated a lot of women,” he said, his hands on his hips. “Especially in this city. I've gone out on one bad first date too many. I thought ours was going to be the same, honestly, and maybe that's why I acted the way that I did. I thought you were going to be like all the other women I've gone out with. They only wanted me for one thing – my status. You stood there and called me on all my bullshit regardless of the fact that I was a celebrity, because you didn't care and recognized that it gave me no right to talk to you the way that I did. You have guts. You've got a good head on your shoulders. I could have all the money in the world and you'd still expect me to be humble.”

He paused to face her.

“I like that about you,” he said. “I realized maybe it's not a bad thing for you to act the way you do. Maybe it's not such a bad thing to be in love with you.”

“Chris, I don't know what to say,” she said, still surprised.

“I don't expect you to say anything,” he said. “I couldn't hide it from you anymore, and I thought it was better that you know now instead of me walking on eggshells around you this whole time and you not know the reason. My offer is still open – you can stay here as long as you want, move in and be my roommate, or...you can stay tonight and find someplace else to stay tomorrow, if that's what you want to do. I don't mind either way. I won't hold it against you.”

They both stood silently for a few seconds, Melissa especially not knowing what to say.

“I'm gonna go to bed,” he finally said. “I think I'll sleep on the couch in the music room, it's comfier anyway. Good night, Melissa.”

He gave her a smile before taking a few steps toward the hallway to make his way to his music room.

“Chris, wait.”

He was about to reach the hallway when she spoke up and he turned around, expecting her to tell him that she had decided against staying with him for the night and that she was bolting on him.

“I uh...” She paused, closed her eyes in deep thought, and sighed. “I'm in love with you, too.”

Chapter 20 – Not Such A Bad Thing (Part Two)

She held on tightly to him after she heard the words leave her mouth, in case he tried to let go – or on the other spectrum, fainted.

“You're what?”

“I'm pregnant,” she repeated.

To her surprise, he didn't release her from his grasp, or even move, for several moments. She was bracing for him to actually faint when he finally let go.

“You're what?” he asked, finally looking at her.

“I'm--”

“No, I heard you,” he said. “How did this happen?”

“I--”

“You were on birth control!”

“It fails sometimes.”

“How far along are you?”

“Twelve weeks,” she said quietly.

“Twelve weeks?” he yelled. “And when were you going to tell me?”

“I was waiting until I figured out how to tell you.”

“Here's an idea. 'Hey Lance, guess what? I'm pregnant',” he said.

“It's not that easy,” she said, feeling herself get angry.

“I'm not an expert, but from what I understand – you pee on a stick and you go from there,” he said. “It's not that hard, Addy.”

“This is exactly what normal people don't understand about miscarriage,” she said, feeling something snap inside of her. “It will never be that easy for me again. A positive pregnancy test is only the first part. Every cramp, every twinge, every pain, every doubt will eat away at me for nine months. And it doesn't stop – there's no 'safe zone' for miscarriage like they want you to believe. It will be nine months of crazy for me. So was I a little worried about breaking the news to you? Yeah, I was – not only for your sake, but for mine, too.”

He stopped and watched her break down into tears right in front of him before walking out of the room.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So much for sleeping on the couch, Chris.”

Melissa laughed as she leaned into him in bed, feeling the warmth of his bare chest against her own.

“Best laid plans, right?” he said with a smile.

He leaned in to capture her lips in a kiss, savoring her touch against his arms, the taste of her lips, and her scent.

“You know, it's not fair,” he said, pulling away. “I bet you know all this stuff about me, but I hardly know anything about you.”

“You mean like, favorite color, perfect first date, ideal woman...” she said with a smile.

“No,” he said, chuckling. “Better stuff. Deeper. Get to know you stuff.”

“Wow Kirkpatrick, your pillow talk needs a little work,” she said.

“I'm serious,” he said, laughing. “20 Questions. I get the first question.”

“Chris, really...”

“You scared, Weston?” he said with a grin.

She smiled. “Scared? I think that paramedic was mistaken when he said you had a brain up there. Fine. Ask away.”

Chris harrumphed at her joke and thought a few moments.

“Where in Arkansas are you from?”

“I'm from Little Rock. I've moved around some, but always in the state,” she answered, shrugging. “Well, until now of course.”

“So it's not true that you marry your own cousins?” Chris asked, unable to resist, flinching when she smacked him on the shoulder.

“No, it's not,” she said, unable to resist her own smile. “And not all of us play banjos, drink moonshine and 'wrastle gators' in our spare time either. I thought it was my turn?”

“Fire away, then,” he said.

“If you could give up all your money and fame for one thing, what would it be?”

Melissa's eyes met his and she studied his face, waiting for an answer.

“Oooh girl, you're pulling out the punches,” he said. “If I could give up all my money and fame for one thing, it would be happiness and security for my mom and sisters for the rest of their life.”

“That's actually...sweet,” she said.

“Is it that much of a surprise?” he said with a chuckle. “I can be that way sometimes, you know. It's my turn. What's your favorite music group – that isn't NSYNC or Backstreet Boys,” he added for good measure with a smile.

“You mean I have to choose one?” she said, sighing deeply. “I listen to everything. I like all sorts of groups and singers and genres...that's almost an unfair question to a music lover.”

“Somehow I think that was a cop-out answer,” Chris replied.

“And what are you going to do about it?” she asked with a smile.

He leaned in and kissed her softly on the lips, running a hand through her blonde hair.

“Foul,” she said breathlessly. “Distraction technique.”

He smiled and let her go, leaned down on his elbows and waiting for her next question. She took a few moment to think, tapping her mouth softly with her index finger, deep in thought.

“What would you be doing now if you weren't in the group?”

“Good question,” he said. “I'd probably be working a regular job, but I think I'd still be singing one way or another. I don't think I could have stopped. Otherwise, married, maybe a couple of kids...”

Suddenly, they both noticed the tension in the room change, becoming uncomfortable as each of them shifted in bed.

“Awkward,” Chris said, to which she slightly giggled. “My turn again. What brought you all the way from Arkansas to big New York City?”

He noticed the smile fall from her face and her gradually become more uncomfortable, looking away from him.

“That's not important, Chris,” she said.

“Sure it is,” he said. “That's a big move to make just for a career change.”

“Well, what brought you from Florida to New York?” she asked. “Sometimes you need a change.”

“Foul,” he called. “You're avoiding the question with another question.”

“I don't want to talk about it.”

“No, you can't do that,” he said with a smile. “Official rules. You have to answer, Weston.”

“It was an ex of mine, alright?” she said, throwing her body to turn away from him in frustration. “Can we drop it now?”

He was stunned into silence by her sudden change in attitude.

“Not after that reaction, we can't,” he said, reaching an arm over to wrap around her.

“It was a long time ago,” she said, settling into his grasp.

“Couldn't have been that long,” he said. “You only moved here a few months ago.”

“It was long enough that I'd like to forget about it all,” she said quietly.

“Is that why your apartment was the way it was?” he asked.

“My apartment was the way it was because that's how I kept it,” she said, sounding annoyed. “I like to live simple.”

“You mean you like to live simple because you had no other choice,” he said. “You ran away from something and you didn't come here with much.”

“Don't try to get into my head.”

“I'm not trying, you're making it easy,” he said with a smile.

He waited for a response, but instead she went still and silent. He watched her shoulders move with her breathing, slow and steady, and thought that she had fallen asleep – until he saw her hand move to her eyes and heard a small whimper.

“Mel, are you crying?” he asked.

He was shocked when she moved her body to turn back toward him, throwing her arms around his neck and leaning into his chest, sobbing.

“We won't talk about it anymore,” he said quietly, trying to comfort her. “We'll just lay here. You'll be okay, Mel. I promise.”

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Lance had sat on her couch for at least twenty minutes, taking deep breaths and trying to focus and relax. He knew he didn't dare step a foot into her bedroom until he was capable of talking rationally with her, and she with him.

“Addy,” he said, slowly making his way into her bedroom, his hands in his pockets. “I'm sorry.”

She was sitting on the edge of her bed with her back turned towards him, holding a small picture in her hand. As far as he could tell, she had stopped crying.

“Knee-jerk reaction,” he said, shrugging even though she couldn't see it. “Your fiancee tells you she's pregnant when you're not expecting it – I guess you kind of lose your head a little.”

“How was I supposed to tell you?” she asked. “How was I supposed to tell you that I'd lied to you for over a year because I was afraid that I would lose another baby?”

“I don't care that you lied,” he said, sitting down next to her. “Maybe I did at first – but you were protecting yourself. I wish you'd told me sooner so I could have been here for you – and the baby.”

He leaned over, moving his hand over her stomach and leaning to rest his chin on her shoulder.

“Addy, we're having a baby,” he whispered with a smile.

Even with stray tears in her eyes, she couldn't help but smile hearing a hint of happiness in his voice.

“Are you mad at me?” she asked.

“No, baby,” he whispered. “I can't be mad at you.”

“Are you scared?”

“Shitless,” he said. “I'd be thrilled if I wasn't so terrified of the possibilities.”

“You're scared that something is going to go wrong,” she said quietly.

“How can I not be?” he asked. “Thinking of all the nights you woke up in tears, having a bad dream, and you were virtually inconsolable about April. All the times we've visited the cemetery and...”

He paused and she felt him sigh.

“I can't think about it.”

“Are we going to be okay, Lance?” she whispered.

“Yeah,” he said quietly with a nod. “Yeah, I think we'll be okay.”

They sat quietly next to each other, both looking at the paper she held.

“A baby,” he said, his eyes locked on the ultrasound in her hands.

“I have another appointment in a month,” she said. “He says we might be able to tell then if it's a boy or a girl.”

She watched, expecting him to chime in with the typical father's wish – a strapping baby boy to play football with, one who would dig in the mud and bring home bugs in his pocket for her to find when washing the laundry. But he only stared at the picture.

“I want to be there,” he finally said.

“I want you to be there,” she responded.

“What a mess we have, huh?” he asked, chuckling. “A stalker, a kid, a wedding...”

“Oh God, the wedding,” she said with a groan. “This is going to mess with all of our plans.”

“We'll figure it out,” he said.

“Will we?” she asked. “Have we done such a great job of figuring it out so far? Look at us. We started out as enemies, then we became friends, then we became partners...”

“So why does it feel like we're going back to being enemies?” he said, more of a statement than a question.

“It's not about us anymore, Lance,” she said. “We have to figure out a way to work this out.”

“We will.”

When she didn't respond, he lifted a hand and turned her to face him.

“Hey,” he said. “We will.”

He looked her in the eyes, giving her a silent promise, and she nodded in response as she felt tears in her eyes again.

“Lance, we're having a baby.”

“We're having a baby!” he exclaimed, finally letting his excitement show. She could only laugh as he smiled widely and cupped her chin.

“I love you,” she said as he leaned down, kissing her.

“And I love you,” he said.

Chapter 21 – Marry You

Adeline was only a flash as she rushed into the bathroom, flipping the light switch and lifting up the lid. Seconds later, the porcelain of the toilet and the tiles in the room made her regurgitation sounds echo through the room.

Lance walked casually up to the doorway with his coffee in his hand and leaned against the door frame.

“Now that's sexy,” he said between echos.

“I'm going to die,” she said, grasping the bowl as she tried to make her stomach settle. “It was never this bad the first time. It must mean I'm dying.”

“Oh but sweetheart,” he said. He placed his cup on the counter, knelt down beside her and grabbed her long hair, giving it a twirl and flipping it up. “You can't die. What would I do without you?”

“Oh God,” she said with a groan, feeling another wave of nausea hit her.

“Is this part the one where all the breathing comes in handy?”

He smiled when she let go of the toilet bowl to ball up her fist and punch him in the arm.

“I don't know how I'll get through this one,” she said, resting her head on the cold porcelain. “I think I've thrown up stuff I ate in second grade.”

“Do you do this every morning?” he asked.

“Every morning for the past four weeks.”

“How did I miss this?”

“You're not always the most attentive, Lance.”

She immediately leaned down and the noises resumed.

“This is a little hard to miss,” he said, grimacing at the sight in front of him. “Even for me, babe.”

He held her hair up until she finished, then he ran a washcloth under cool water. Sitting down next to her, he pushed her hair out of her eyes and ran the cloth over her face in an attempt to cool her down.

“Are we going to be okay?” she asked.

He only ran the cloth over her cheek and stared. She had asked him the same thing last night. Their relationship was in limbo; he knew they had things they needed to talk about before they could go back to normal, the way they used to be.

He knew he loved her; he thought she still loved him. And he knew he would never leave her alone to raise a child – his child – nor could he ever leave her alone if something did happen and they lost the baby. But things had been in such disarray lately that he knew they were both feeling overwhelmed and unprepared to plan a wedding. With a baby coming along and Addy only growing bigger every month that passed, he couldn't see how they could put together the wedding that they had originally planned on.

“Do you love me?” he asked.

“Are you serious?” she said, sounding defensive.

“Just answer me,” he said, a slight smile on his face. “Do you love me?”

“Of course I love you.”

“Do you want to be with me?”

“Lance, come on--”

“Adeline, do you want to be with me?” he asked, smiling bigger.

“Yes,” she said.

“Then what more do we need?” he asked. “We love each other and we want to be with each other. That's what it takes to make it work. So we're going to make it work.”

With the extra time on their hands, they sat down at her kitchen table that morning to share coffee and try to make sense of their forlorn wedding plans. Unfortunately, all the fighting they had done in the past few weeks had taken its toll on their arrangements as well.

Adeline's trusty binder was in complete disarray, adding to her stress.

“Baby, I love you,” he said, nose-deep in her laptop trying to stay out of her panicked reorganization, “but you're obsessive-compulsive.”

“I'm organized,” she said in a biting tone. “There's nothing wrong with that – sweetie.”

“I'd like to think the attitude is the pregnancy hormones talking,” he said.

“You know what? I can't even think about any of this stuff right now. I love you Lance, but talk about attitude – yours sucks.”

She threw a couple of papers she was holding in her hand back in the binder and shut it harshly. She let out a breath she was holding and buried her head in her hands.

“I'm sorry,” he said after a pause. “You're right; my attitude does suck.”

“Yes, it does,” she said. “But I'm sorry, too. My attitude isn't the greatest either.”

Both of them sighed.

“How are we going to hold it together for a baby if we can't even hold it together to talk about our own wedding?” she asked. “Maybe getting married is a stupid idea.”

He looked up from the laptop. “Now you don't want to get married?” he asked. “That's what this freak wants us to do – that's the idea of all this, to get us apart.”

“So what do you suggest we do?” she asked. “We can barely agree on what to have for breakfast, let alone organizing an entire wedding.”

“We could skip the idea of a wedding and elope,” he said with a smile.

She chuckled, thinking about various conversations with Stephanie and Melissa, joking about running off to Vegas to get married by an Elvis impersonator.

“You can't be serious, Lance.”

“Why not?” he asked. “Atlantic City is only two hours away. And look--”

He pulled her binder towards him and flipped through it to one of the pockets in the back, pulling out an envelope and holding it up to her.

“We already have our marriage license,” he said.

“And who planned ahead and got that marriage license early, just in case?” she joked.

“Okay, so your compulsion came in handy once,” he said.

“Running off to elope is a really dumb idea,” she said.

“It's a beautiful night, we're looking for something dumb to do,” he said, half-singing.

She had heard the song more than a few times on the radio in the car, so she rolled her eyes at him.

“Can you be serious for, like, two seconds?” she asked. “We're talking about abandoning the whole wedding, all our family and friends, and running off to Atlantic City of all places.”

He smirked. “Hey baby,” he said, looking at her. “I think I wanna marry you.”

She sighed and shook her head as he stood up and continued to sing.

“Is it the look in your eyes, or is it this dancing juice? Who cares, baby, I think I wanna marry you.”

“Lance, seriously...”

All of a sudden he grabbed her arm and pulled her towards him, twirling her around.

“Well I know this little chapel on the boulevard we can go – no one will know, oh come on girl...”

She couldn't help but giggle as he tried to get her to dance along with him, swaying to an imaginary beat in his head.

“Lance!” she yelled at him through chuckles. “Seriously!”

“Who cares if we're trashed, got a pocketful of cash we can blow...” He continued to sing, getting louder, and she was quickly losing her composure. “Shots of Patron, and it's on, girl...”

“I can't take you seriously when you're like this,” she said through laughter.

“Don't say no, no, no, no, no,” he sang, crooning to her as he held her to him. “Just say yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah...and we'll go, go, go, go, go, if you're ready, like I'm ready...”

By the time he twirled her again and dipped her carefully, she had lost any shred of seriousness she had in her body. She caved in and danced along with him, singing along with him at a quieter volume.

All of a sudden, he stopped singing and dancing. As her laughter died down, she looked at him, still holding her close to him. All traces of a smile were gone from his face.

“I'll go get a ring, let the choir bells sing like oooh,” he said, barely singing to a beat. “So what ya wanna do? Let's just run, girl.”

“You're serious about this,” she said.

“My week is free, so is yours,” he said. “We have nowhere to be for once in our life, we already have our marriage license, and we need to get away from this whole mess. Let's pack up and run.”

“What about all the plans we made? The church, the flowers, our family...”

“Who cares about all of that? We lose a few hundred dollars in deposits and we'll have a big party with our family and friends to celebrate. They might be upset for a while, but they'll understand.”

“The media would have a field day with this.”

“Who cares?” he asked. “We'll clean up the mess later.”

“Oh my God, I can't even believe I'm considering this,” she said, more to herself than in response to him. “I don't want to get married by some cheap ordained minister who gives me a choice between the Elvis theme or the much classier Shaft theme.”

“But I'd look so good in Elvis pants,” he said, pretending to whine. “Don't worry – Atlantic City doesn't have any of those Vegas-style wedding chapels, just a courthouse.”

“How do you even know this stuff?” she asked.

“What do you think I've been looking up on your computer for the past half-hour while you've been freaking out, classic Addy style, over your wedding binder?” he said.

“This idea is insane,” she said.

“We're not eighteen, this is not a shotgun wedding because you're pregnant...this might be the best idea we've had in months,” he said.

She paused to think it over, more seriously than she had since he had brought it up.

“You put all our papers together and get everything ready,” she said before she knew it. “And I'll go pack a bag. Let's go.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It had only taken them about an hour to get ready for their impromptu trip. She had packed a small suitcase with enough clothes for a week long trip and what few clothes she had for him at her apartment. She had managed to find a dress for herself and was able to sneak it into the suitcase before he could see it. Before she could even realize she was having second thoughts, they were an hour into the drive and she was fighting her returned anxiety in addition to her morning sickness.

She bit her lip as they drove down the nearly barren highway, another bad habit she had picked up under stress lately.

“Stop biting your lip,” he said, breaking the silence in the car except for the radio talk show that neither of them were listening to.

“I can't help it, I'm nervous,” she said.

“What is there to be nervous about?” he asked. “This was the plan all along, wasn't it?”

“Not like this,” she said, almost whispering.

“Well no, not like this – but this was the idea.” He paused and let out his frustrated sigh, adjusting his legs in the seat because he had been driving for over an hour. “Lately, the idea of getting married seems like a do or die sort of thing. Do it now...or it will never happen.”

“Because somebody's trying to kill us – or because we're trying to kill our relationship?” she asked.

“Both,” he said, and at his tone, she bit her lip again and looked to the outside.

He felt the tension in the car as he switched lanes for his exit.

“Hey, I mean – it's good now, right?” he asked her. “It's always been pretty good, you know. We've hit a few roadblocks, that's all.”

“I wouldn't call them roadblocks, Lance,” she said. “I'd say it's more like the bridge has collapsed underneath us.”

“That's why you rebuild things, babe,” he said. “Things collapse, roads need construction, bridges burn – and you move on, pick up the pieces and rebuild. That's what you do.”

The rest of the drive, she spent looking out the window wavering between biting her lip and her fingernails, contemplating what to do once they reached Atlantic City.

On one hand, even though she'd previously had a dream wedding that had ended six years later in divorce, she wanted the experience with Lance. There was something special about a wedding day if you were looking forward to walking down the aisle towards someone you loved. Even if it was stressful and hectic during planning – picking the perfect dress, fighting with flower and cake shops, and finalizing guest lists and menu plans – the end result was always worth it if you wanted it.

On the other hand, he had a point. All they wanted when they returned to New York was to move beyond her long and painful divorce and start their new life together. The day the first note had shown up was the day that all of it had started to fall apart. If they didn't attempt to put the pieces of what was left back together, they may never be able to. And it didn't matter if they had a million dollar wedding or flew to Vegas and went to an overnight chapel – as long as they loved each other.

Going ahead with the plan to get married seemed like the best way to make their relationship last through this – if it didn't destroy them first.

She saw the signs of her old home state before she had come any closer to making her decision, and she felt her heart start to race. By the time he had reached the town courthouse and pulled into the parking lot, she was close to hyperventilating – a familiar and strange feeling, since she had considered herself better for so long.

He shifted the car into park and turned the ignition key slowly, then stretched his legs as far as he could in his seat.

“It's down to this,” he said. “We either do this or we don't. It's up to you, Addy – this is all up to you.”

She turned her head away from the window to look at the courthouse in front of her. It was more intimidating to look at after spending two hours in a car wavering between her only two choices. She knew she had to make the right choice, and she only had a handful of minutes to decide which choice was right.

Chapter 22 – Because You Loved Me

This was not how he had intended it to go. He had expected to be standing at an altar in a full tuxedo with a boutonniere pinned to his jacket; Chris, Justin and JC all standing next to him as his best men. He had hoped to be able to give her everything she had ever dreamed of, everything she could have possibly hoped for as a child when she thought of her wedding day.

He hadn't intended to be standing inside a courthouse, in one of the new “business” suits he had bought after the fire. His blue tie didn't match the colors that she had picked out for their day, either. He hadn't wanted to be standing in front of a Justice of the Peace's desk instead of at an altar in the old church in New Jersey that she wanted to get married at. The strange man stood next to him, waiting patiently with his arms crossed in front of his stomach. Lance had wanted it to be better than this.

But now that he was here, even though it wasn't the wedding they had talked about and planned to the last detail for the past year, he couldn't imagine that it could be any better.

The door opened as they were both waiting, and Joey, Chris and Melissa walked into the room nonchalantly, all eyes moving immediately to Lance.

“You call me up out of the blue – out of nowhere – and tell me to pick up these yahoos that can barely get along to save their own lives and drive two fucking hours to New Jersey with no explanation,” Joey said. “This better be damn good, Lance.”

“Yeah, I was supposed to have class today, I'll have you know,” Melissa said, pointing a finger at Lance. “And telling me to wear a dress? I hate dresses, Lance, and you know this.”

“Why are we in a courthouse in New Jersey anyway?” Chris asked. “I mean, what the fuck, man? What's so important that you needed us here right away?”

Lance was about to open his mouth when he heard the doorknob turn and caught a glance behind the three. He only smiled as he saw her step through the door, remembering the day he had first proposed to her.

Adeline looked up from the drawer at him. When she saw that he wasn't joking, she felt her oxygen supply deplete.

“Will I what?” she asked.

“Marry me,” he said.

She stood for a moment, stunned and trying to keep calm.

“We have to go to the reception,” she said as she suddenly turned and walked out of the room without him.

“Well,” he said to himself, “that didn't quite go according to the plan.”

He joined her in his car a few moments later, but she looked away from him, out the window. The short drive to the reception venue was a quiet one, without a single word, sigh, or even breath from either of them. After he had parked, she exited the car without speaking and walked ahead of him into the building.

Once they were both inside the party, he noticed she was smiling as if nothing had even happened, greeting guests and shaking hands until they both sat down in their assigned seats at the head table.

They both remained quiet until he couldn't stand it after five minutes.

“Are you going to say anything?” he whispered to her.

“Why would you do that?” Adeline whispered back harshly.

“Because I love you,” he said.

“What hallucinogenic drugs are you on that would make you do something so stupid?” Adeline asked him.

Their loudly whispered fight had gained the attention of Jamie-Lynn, seated next to Adeline, and Joey, who had come over simply to wish the newly married couple his best.

“What did he do?” Jamie asked Adeline.

“I can't even say it,” Adeline told her.

“Well that helps us,” Joey said, smiling at Jamie.

“You don't even have a ring,” Adeline said, turning back to Lance.

“You don't know that,” he said with a smirk.

“Oh God. I'm gonna vomit,” she said.

“Whoa – ring?” Jamie said, then looked past Adeline to Lance. “What did you do?”

“Please,” Joey said, stressing his words. “Please, Lance. Tell me you didn't do what I think you did.”

“Someone please tell me what I did wrong,” Lance said. “I love this woman. I want to spend the rest of my life with her. So I did what any sane man in my situation would do; I asked her to marry me.”

“Now I think I'm gonna vomit,” Jamie said. “You call yourself sane? Since when?”

“Any sane man in your situation would run – as far away and as fast as possible,” Joey said. “Didn't we talk about this in the coffee shop that day?”

Adeline looked at Joey. “Wait – you talked about me that day?”

“No, Addy,” Joey said suddenly. “I meant a different day – another day after that.”

“Oh, come on Joe,” Lance said, now smirking at Joey. “Tell her the truth. Tell her what we talked about – how I called her husband a tool and you told me to stay out of her tool box. Which, I believe was a euphemism for her panties, but...”

“You told him to stay away from me?” Adeline asked.

As she looked at him, Joey noticed the hurt look on her face.

“I didn't mean it like that Addy. I just meant...he needed to be careful. You're a married woman. Who knows what your husband would try to do to him if he found out, you know?”

“I think he's been watching too much Law and Order,” Lance said.

“You see he didn't take my advice anyway, like usual,” Joey said. “What does it matter?”

“How much stuff has been going on behind my back that I still don't know about?” Adeline said, finally raising her voice to a level above angry whispering. “People wonder why I'm a basket-case – this is why. You know what? Where's the alcohol – this is one time that I really need to be drunk.”

Adeline stood up out of her chair without another word and walked away, all of them watching her. They only looked away when Joanna walked up to them in front of the table and leaned down.

“You know, I don't know what's going on here,” she whispered, “but I see drama. The wedding day drama is supposed to come from our family, not our friends. So whatever is going on...fix it,” she said in a threatening tone. “Whoever caused it – if you ruin my wedding, I will duct tape you to the ceiling naked after this reception and you'll have to explain what you did to the janitor when he has to cut you down.”

She gave them her happy smile before she walked off in Adeline's direction.

“That's not a bad idea,” Joey finally said.

“You need to be duct taped to the ceiling naked,” Jamie said as she looked at Lance.

Lance was about to open his mouth to respond when Joey reached up and slapped him on the back of the head, before he walked off.

“You so deserved that,” Jamie said.

He had watched her carefully from his seat at the head table, giving her a few minutes and a couple of songs before he decided to get up out of his seat and attempt to approach her. She had her back turned toward him and was standing in front of Joanna's large, four-tier wedding cake looking it over when he came up behind her.

“Spare a dance for the idiot?” he asked.

She turned her head to look at him, rolling her eyes. But it wasn't long before she broke into a smile and grabbed his outstretched hand to let him lead her to the dance floor.

“I'm sorry I took you by surprise,” he said, pulling her close to his body as they slow-danced to the last few notes of “Heaven” by Bryan Adams.

“Why would you do something so crazy?” she asked, briefly lifting her head from his shoulder to look at him.

He was about to answer, but when he heard the song fade out and into the next song, he only smiled.

“For all those times you stood by me, for all the truth that you made me see...”

It was a few moments before she realized that he was speaking along with the music. By then, he had grasped her waist and pulled her closer to him, lacing his fingers tightly through hers and leaning his head down to hers.

“For all the joy you brought to my life, for all the wrong that you made right,” he sang at a whisper in her ear, holding her tightly. “For every dream you made come true, for all the love I found in you...I'll be forever thankful, baby...”

From her place in the comfort of his arms, she glanced over and saw her friend Joanna. She and Nick were in the middle of the dance floor, arms entwined with each other, swaying along to the music. She would occasionally glance up at her new husband, flashing him a smile that Adeline only now realized that she reserved only for him. It was her glowing smile. That was what it truly meant to be content; to be with the person you loved, and you knew you could spend the rest of your life with. They looked drunk with happiness – and they were.

She didn't think she'd smiled at her husband like that in years, or that he'd smiled at her like that in years – if he ever had.

“You gave me wings and made me fly, you touched my hand I could touch the sky,” he continued to sing to her. “I lost my faith, you gave it back to me...you said no star was out of reach...”

She wanted that, and Lance gave that to her every day. She wanted the silly, stupid, drunk-in-love feeling to last an entire lifetime. It was only now that she was realizing that the only reason she feared his proposal was because she wanted to accept so badly.

“I want to spend every day of the rest of my life with you, Adeline,” he said, never letting go of her. “Because you loved me.”

Joey, Melissa, and Chris turned around and looked at her, barely standing in the doorway. Melissa's mouth dropped as she looked at her friend – wearing the silky, long white dress with her purple, pearl-beaded shawl wrapped around her shoulders and tied in front; her hair pulled back loosely with a wispy strand grazing her eyelash.

“Surprise,” she said as she pushed the hair out of her eye.

“What the hell is--”

Joey stopped, mostly out of shock, when Melissa reached up to clamp her hand over his mouth. She let out a quiet but shrill shriek.

“Shut up, Joey, you'll ruin the moment,” she said.

As Melissa moved her hand and walked to Adeline, Joey sighed.

“Sorry,” he said, looking at Lance as he stepped up next to him. “Didn't know we were having a moment.”

“They're having a moment,” Lance whispered with a smile. “Let them have it.”

“You're doing this,” Melissa said. “You're really doing this.”

“We're doing it,” Adeline responded with a smile.

“Wait – what are we doing?” Chris asked.

“They're getting married!” Melissa yelled, unconcerned that her voice carried loudly enough to make Chris's ears ring.

“Wait – here?” Joey asked, looking at Lance. “Now?”

“No, in three months at two in the afternoon, you dolt,” Chris said. “Why do you think we're at a courthouse in New Jersey?”

“Guys, I hate to rush this along,” Lance said, “but I've been waiting like, a year and a half for this, so can we maybe wrap it up?”

Adeline laughed and looked at Melissa.

“Okay, you need something old, new, borrowed, and blue,” she said.

“My grandma's shawl is kind of old,” Addy said.

“Good enough. Oh, my earrings are blue!” Melissa exclaimed, reaching up to remove her blue stud diamond earrings. “That takes care of borrowed, too, because I want them back you little sneak.”

Adeline smiled as Melissa put the earrings in her hand, and she started putting them in her ears.

“Two birds, one stone,” Melissa said. “But I don't think I have anything new.”

As she put the last stud in her ear, Adeline glanced at Lance and smiled.

“I think Lance and I have that one covered,” she said.

Lance smiled and winked slightly.

“Do you know what they're talking about?” Joey whispered to Chris.

Chris only smiled back. “I'll tell you when you're a little older, Joseph.”

“Is everyone ready to begin?”

Everyone, including Lance and Adeline, turned to face the Justice of the Peace when they heard him speak.

“Are you ready?” Adeline asked Lance with a smile.

“More than ready,” he responded, smiling back.

She cleared her throat and looked at Joey.

“I believe that someone needs to walk me down the aisle as he promised,” she said.

Joey snapped to attention with a grin. “Oh yeah, that's me.”

Melissa and Chris cleared the way, taking places on each of their “sides” as Joey and Adeline took their place on the other side of the room. She looked up at Joey before hooking her arm through his, and making the silent walk toward the front of the room. As they approached, Lance saw Joey lean down and whisper something in her ear, to which she only looked up and gave a smile, her eyes bright.

Joey stepped up to Lance and, grabbing her hand in his, reached out to Lance – handing her over to him.

Lance smiled as he took her hand in his. She looked back briefly at Joey before stepping to her place, directly in front of Lance.

“We are assembled here in the presence of God and of these witnesses to celebrate the joining of this man and this woman in the unity of marriage. No other human ties are more tender, no other vows are more solemn than those you are about to make. True marriage is the holiest of all earthly relationships. Where there has been cold, you have brought warmth to each other...”

Lance looked at the woman across from him and smiled, knowing no truer words had ever been spoken.

“Where there was dark, you have brought light to each others lives...”

Adeline squeezed his hand in silent acknowledgment, knowing that he had come into her life at one of her darkest moments.

“Please exchange rings and repeat these vows after me...”

Lance slipped the ring on her finger, grasping her hand tightly.

“I, James Lance Bass, take you, Adeline James, to be my wife. You are my companion in life and my one true love. I will love you today, tomorrow, and forever. I will trust you and honor you. I will laugh and cry with you, with unfailing love. I will stand by you through the best and the worst, through the difficult and the easy. As I have given you my hand to hold, so I give you my life to keep.”

As Melissa handed over the ring to her, Adeline felt tears in her eyes. When Lance smiled at her as she looked at him, she knew it was obvious. She only hoped she could make it through her vows audibly.

“I, Adeline James, take you, James Lance Bass, to be my husband. You are my companion in life and my one true love. I will love you today, tomorrow, and forever. I will trust you and honor you. I will laugh and cry with you, with unfailing love. I will stand by you through the best and the worst, through the difficult and the easy. As I have given you my hand to hold, so I give you my life to keep.”

“To love is to come together from the pathways of our past and then move forward...”

By the time the Justice of the Peace started his final speech of the ceremony, Adeline and Melissa had both started tearing up.

“In so much as the two of you have agreed to live together in matrimony, have promised your love for each other by these vows, I now declare you to be husband and wife. You may kiss your bride.”

Chris and Joey couldn't stop the smiles on their faces as they watched Lance pull his wife closer to him and smile before he placed his lips on hers. He glanced over at Melissa and chuckled as he saw tear tracks staining her cheeks, even as she tried to hide them.

“You're finally my wife, Adeline James Bass,” Lance whispered against her mouth as he held her close.

“Forever,” she said with a smile.

Chapter 23 – Rendezvous

Burlington, New Jersey

Stopping outside the coffee shop and parking the car in the alley, as he had instructed, she turned up her nose and cut the ignition. The place he had told her about looked more like a dive bar than a strip club. The wood structure looked like it had started to rot and decay about a hundred years ago and had been repainted brown when the wood had weathered to a perfect gray. That paint was now peeling, making the place look dingy and dirty.

This wasn't the type of place that she would frequent – but she would expect it out of him.

She knew why he had chosen this location. It wasn't the type of place that cops would frequent, or anyone else that may recognize him. It had been difficult to keep a low profile lately, for both of them. This would be the perfect place.

Not to mention, he was a pig who liked naked women.

She sighed, grabbing the wig from the passenger seat. She sat it down in her lap, lifting her arms to pull her blonde hair back with the ponytail holder around her wrist. She reluctantly pulled it over her head, turning her shoulder-length blonde hair into a dark brunette bob. She flipped the car's visor down to reveal the small mirror, checking and fixing the wig she now wore to perfection.

She immediately caught a glance at her eyes, pale and lifeless. She hadn't gotten much sleep lately; who could sleep with a guilty conscience? All she knew was she'd better get what she deserved out of this deal, because of all he had put her through already.

Fixing the wig once more, she flipped the visor back up and pulled the keys out of the ignition. The door of the old Buick creaked open and she stepped out, one slender leg right after the other. She fixed her tight black skirt and blouse, closing the door as she situated the dark sunglasses over her eyes.

She crossed the street carefully and walked up to the front entrance, eyeing the large sign above it flashing the club's name in neon lights.

“Dear God,” she whispered to herself, taking a deep breath before she pulled the door open.

Once inside, the difference between the two environments couldn't be more different. The bright blue sky and clean, sea-smelling air from outside had turned to a darker, mustier environment. The stage was bathed with neon, the flashing lights in the club the only thing lighting it. She willed her legs to move forward on the carpet, her stiletto heels digging into the fibers.

She saw the heads turn as she walked down the pathway toward the back. Barely dressed women, some topless, danced all through the place at various tables – but despite it, every man getting a lap dance turned their heads away from their dancer to look at her as she walked by. They eyed her from top to bottom, letting their eyes roam from her ample chest to the long, bare legs. Despite her mood and anxiety, she felt her the corner of her mouth turn up into a slight smile.

At least she knew she could still turn heads.

She saw him at the back of the club, at a table against the wall, getting a lap dance from a busty woman, her ass bare in the thong she was wearing as she gyrated in front of him. She rolled her eyes. Not a single feature of that woman's could be found in nature – only in the form of saline in a plastic surgeon's office.

He barely looked up from the woman as she came up and sat down in the chair across from him.

“Took you long enough to get here,” he said, his eyes never leaving the woman's topless breasts as he blew cigarette smoke out of his mouth in a long stream.

“Hour and a half drive from Atlantic City to Burlington,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “Doesn't look like you got...bored.”

His eyes finally left the woman to look over at her, but he didn't speak. He sucked in another breath of his cigarette, blowing it towards her face. She didn't flinch or give a reaction; that's what he would have wanted. When she only stared at him, he snapped his fingers towards the front of the club, signaling to the dancer. She immediately walked away, eyeing the new “guest” with her long eyelashes hiding seductive eyes.

“I'm sure you've heard,” she said.

He smiled. “There was a wedding,” he said. “Of course I've heard. How...grand.”

“They decided to elope.”

“I'm sure it was a beautiful ceremony,” he said.

“The plan didn't work,” she said.

“He's too smart for his own good,” he said. “I may have underestimated him.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. It wasn't like him to admit a fault.

“What do we do now?” she asked.

“We move on,” he said. “To Plan C. What did you expect?”

“At some point? For you to give up.”

“I don't give up,” he said with a smile. “It's not in my nature.”

“How far are you going to take this?” she asked. “You've tried twice – they go back to each other every time. One person is already dead--”

“He was collateral damage. He got in the way. If he'd have stayed out of it, I wouldn't have had to blow his brains out.”

“The fire didn't work either. He didn't die.”

“I accounted for that possibility,” he said, tipping the glass of amber-colored liquid into his mouth.

“Not very well, obviously,” she said.

“I didn't count on her inviting him back into her life.”

“You mean you didn't count on her turning up pregnant.”

He looked up at her from his drink, his eyes turning dark.

“Life's little snags,” he said. “It won't affect the new plan.”

“Do you really want to go that far?” she asked.

“I'll go as far as I have to.”

She paused. She could look forward to another sleepless night, tossing and turning with guilt.

“What's the new plan, then?” she finally asked.

He chuckled.

“First the baby,” he said, his voice deepening. “Then him.”

Chapter 24 – Honeymoon's Over

Three days. That was how long the honeymoon lasted. It served more as a retreat from their lives and the chaos back in New York than it did a honeymoon.

To her surprise, Lance had sprung for three nights at a honeymoon suite at a beachside hotel after the spur-of-the-moment wedding. He said they deserved it; they needed a vacation, and if this was the furthest they could go for a honeymoon because of her being pregnant, they might as well make it relaxing.

That first night had been the best.

He swiped the key card through the slot and waited until the light turned green before he reached for the handle and pushed it down. When it opened, he reached his arm out in front of her as she was getting ready to step inside.

“Nope,” he said, turning to her and smiling. “That's not how a bride enters the room on her wedding night.”

“Please tell me you're not going to...”

Before she could finish her sentence, he bent down slightly to lift her up by her knees, cradling her to carry her over the threshold.

“Lance,” she said while laughing, “put me down.”

“But it's tradition,” he said as he kicked the hotel room door closed with his foot.

“Ancient tradition that is completely unnecessary.”

“Still tradition,” he said, walking her to the middle of the room. “And I'll be in enough trouble with my mom when she finds out that I ran off to Atlantic City to get married and left her out of it – let me have this one.”

He slowly lowered her to stand on her own feet. He reached around her waist and pulled her to him, smiling as he leaned in to steal a kiss.

The stolen kiss lasted a few moments too long to be considered stolen for long. He held her close to him and she wrapped her arms around his neck, running her fingers over the short hairs on the back of his neck.

“Wait here a minute.”

He broke away from her and pulled his cell phone out of the pocket of his slacks, swiping it to bring the screen to life. He stood next to the round, wooden table by the window, his finger moving across the phone busily. As she was about to accept that she had lost him to his love of social media, he sat the phone on the table and the familiar music came out of the speaker.

“You like this song, right?” he asked, a coy smile on his face.

“How did you know?” she responded with her own smile.

He moved to her and scooped her hand into his in one fluid movement, pulling her close to his body as Elvis started serenading them.

“It's true, you know,” he said into her ear.

“What is?” she asked, her head leaned comfortably against his as he slow danced with her.

“That only fools rush in.”

She smiled.

“I guess we're both fools, then,” she said, lifting her head to look him in the eyes.

“I'm sorry that today wasn't exactly the way you always envisioned it,” he said apologetically. “Addy, I wanted to give you everything – the flowers, the photographer, the cake, the million dollar wedding dress...”

“Shut up,” she said playfully. “It was perfect, Lance. All I needed was you, me, the witnesses, and the guy who could make it official. I had everything I needed. I had one of those beautiful, magazine-worthy weddings already – and look how that turned out, how happy I was. It was only window dressing, a good disguise to hide the huge mistake I made. I wasn't happy, and that's all that matters – and I'm happy now.”

He only smiled as he looked at her – his new wife.

“Take my hand...take my whole life too,” he sang along to the song. “I can't help falling in love with you...”

After that, it hadn't taken long for him to pull her to bed with him. They made love that night. They took a brief interlude the next day to spend some time on the beach relaxing like they hadn't in years before they were back at it again that night. She smiled, realizing they probably christened every space they could in that room by the time they were done.

It was over all too soon. They had to return to New York, to their regular lives...to the chaos.

“Fuck!”

Addy was sitting at the kitchen table filling out a mountain of paperwork when he startled her by throwing the magazine down on the table, making her jump.

“Sorry,” he said when he saw her terrified reaction. “Fuck.”

“What's wrong?” she asked. It wasn't often that she heard Lance curse that harshly, even if it came along with anger and throwing things.

“It's all out there, Ad,” he said, pointing at the People magazine in front of her. “All of it.”

Picking up the magazine, she scanned over the glossy cover until she saw it – in the corner, a picture of her and Lance taken at a benefit they had attended a few months ago in Los Angeles, accompanied by “Wedding and Baby!” in all caps.

“Page 48,” he said.

She turned until she reached the page, and was surprised to see a full two-page spread about them – from their secret wedding in Atlantic City that week to pictures speculating her growing bump.

“Hey, we got more than a corner on a page, we're important now,” she said with a smile, trying to lighten the mood.

“There's no keeping secrets anymore, is there?” he asked. “Nobody in the media has any tact, do they?”

“You know, my job could probably be considered 'media' so watch what you say,” she said. “Besides, we knew we wouldn't be able to keep it a secret forever, right?”

“Four days, Ad. Four days. I assumed we'd at least have a week!”

“At least it's all out there now,” she said. “We don't have to do anymore pretending. Remember how torturous that was? Would you want to pretend we weren't married?”

“My parents, Addy,” he said. “They don't know yet – about any of it. Especially not the fact that you're pregnant!”

That was something she hadn't thought of. She didn't have to worry about telling any of her friends or family – the only people that were up on the list that would need to know that they'd run off to get married on the fly were Melissa and Stephanie. Melissa was present, and she had made sure to call Stephanie during their trip.

“I thought I had a few more days to figure out what to say to them,” he said. “They were so happy that we'd be getting married in a church, even though it was in New Jersey. I wanted them to hear it all from me.”

“Well, now is as good of a time to tell them as any,” she said.

Within minutes she had control of his phone, and was seated next to him at the kitchen table, watching him react nervously as she brought his mom's cell phone number on the iPhone. She knew he wouldn't dial the number willingly himself, so she pressed the call button and put it on speakerphone, placing it on the table in front of the both as it rang. She only hoped she would catch both his mom and dad at times when they weren't at work.

“Hello?” Diane answered after only three rings.

“Hello there,” Adeline answered first with a smile towards Lance. She had talked to his mom enough times on the phone that she would know immediately who it was.

“Addy!” she responded. “It's good to hear from you, honey. Why do you have Lance's phone?”

“Because I have Lance here, too,” Addy responded. “You're on speaker.”

“Hi mom,” Lance said, though with not as much enthusiasm as she had answered.

“Hi sweetie,” Diane said. “How are you two? How's things going?”

Lance and Adeline exchanged a glance, thinking it may have been a positive sign that they didn't know anything they weren't supposed to yet.

“We're good,” Addy said. “Listen, Diane, have you been to the store lately? Maybe stood in line at the checkout and glanced at the rag mags the past couple days?”

Lance held out his arm and narrowed his eyebrows at her to send the message that he disapproved of her lack of a lead-in. She only shrugged.

“No, I try to stay away from those junky things, they bring nothing but trouble,” she said.

“Just checking,” Adeline said, smiling as she silently smacked Lance's chest with the back of her hand, teasing him. “Is Jim with you? Can you put him on speaker so we can talk to you both?”

It was only a few minutes before Diane and Jim both appeared on speakerphone. Adeline said her hello to Jim before poking Lance in the ribcage, eliciting more narrowed eyebrows.

“Hi dad,” Lance finally said.

“Hi son,” Jim responded, making Addy smile. “What's so big that you wanted to talk to us both?”

Addy and Lance exchanged a glance with each other.

“Are you sitting down?” Lance asked.

“Yeah,” his father said.

“I hope you didn't book your flight to New York next year for the wedding already,” Lance said.

“Why?” Jim said, starting to sound concerned. “What's going on?”

“There won't be a wedding.”

“Lance, what did you do?” Jim asked, making Addy giggle slightly. Even Lance cracked a smile.

“I got married this week, dad,” he said.

There was a long pause on the other end of the line, long enough for them to exchange a worried glance with each other.

“You did what?” Diane said softly.

“We...got married,” Adeline said, smiling at Lance, who smiled back.

There was another long pause before they both heard Lance's mom let out a small shriek, startling Addy and making them both laugh.

“When did this happen, son?” Jim asked.

“We went to Atlantic City four days ago and we just...got married.”

“Why didn't you tell us you were doing this?” Diane asked.

“It was a spur-of-the-moment decision,” Lance said. “We got tired of waiting. Another year was too long. We're sorry you couldn't be there, but we couldn't stand to wait any longer.”

“Lance, Adeline,” Jim said, “are you two happy?”

They glanced at each other again, exchanging smiles.

“We're thrilled,” Lance said, reached over to squeeze his wife's hand.

“Then that's all that matters, and we're so happy for you,” Jim said.

“When you come for Thanksgiving, we'll have a big party for you,” Diane said.

Lance squeezed even tighter on her hand, and she nodded in response. With her being such a high-risk, she had already been restricted from so many things – heavy cooking, heavy cleaning, and especially travel. Her doctor didn't even want her running long errands that would require her to be riding in a car longer than an hour. Airplanes were completely out of the question, and with a due date two days after Christmas, by the time the holidays rolled around she would be heavily pregnant – if she made it that far.

“Mom, Thanksgiving is kind of out of the question this year,” Lance said. “And so is Christmas. We're going to have to stay in New York.”

“Why is that?” Jim asked with a chuckle. “Did the wife already put her foot down?”

“Not by choice,” Lance responded.

“We have something else to tell you guys,” Adeline said.

“What is it?”

Lance laced his fingers through hers, giving her unspoken support.

“I'm pregnant,” she said.

She wasn't sure what reaction she was expecting – but when Lance's mom screamed so loudly that she felt him jump next to her, all she could do was laugh and wrap an arm around him.

“I think that's your mother's way of saying she's happy,” Jim said, making Lance smile finally.

“A grandchild!” Diane said. “Oh Lance...Addy...”

Hearing her mother-in-law's excitement over her pregnancy and a new grandchild made Addy smile, but that smile soon fell. Nobody around her seemed to “get it”. They talked about “when” the new baby came – when for her, it was more in terms of “if”. Lance was aware of the risks and that it was a possibility, and he was careful about what he said in front of her about the baby, but there were still times she caught him slipping.

He wanted to put together a nursery as soon as possible – which meant moving out of her apartment and potentially buying a house, because the one-bedroom wouldn't even begin to accommodate all three of them. It was so painful before having to go home after the loss only to have to empty out an already put-together nursery...she didn't know if she could do it again.

Everybody was feeling the excitement, wanting to think of names and go shopping for baby clothes and accessories. She couldn't do it. She could barely bring herself to go shopping for new pregnancy-friendly clothes, not knowing how long she would actually need them. Facing tiny little girls' dresses, socks and booties, and even car seats and strollers...it was too much.

Lance noticed her smile fall, and squeezed her hand.

“Mom, just...remember,” he said. It was probably one of the hardest things he'd ever had to discuss with his mother; it was hard to form the right words. “Remember that there's a...history here.”

A silence fell over the room for a moment. She knew that silence; she hated that silence. It was the point at which everybody's mental faculties switched from happy, joyous time to...death.

Nobody would say it, but they thought it. It was another harsh reality of her life taking a turn to walk down this path.

“We know,” Diane finally said, her tone now soft. “And we understand. We want you to know, we're here for you guys – every step of the way.”

“We love you guys,” Jim said. “Whatever happens – we'll be here for you.”

Adeline couldn't stop her eyes from watering. She had never really experienced support like that.

“Thank you,” she finally said, noticing that Lance glanced over at her with a slight smile.

The in-laws kept them on the phone a few extra minutes asking about details of New Jersey and considering plans to visit New York soon, since the normal holiday plans would change this year. After their goodbyes, Lance hung up the phone and cleared his throat.

“Are you okay?” he asked her.

She had regained her composure by then, tears no longer in her eyes.

“You know, I think I am,” she said. “It's better if they know. And they understand. I think it will be okay.”

“Yeah, I think you're right,” he said. He paused a moment, tapping his fingers on the table, before standing up from the chair. “I think I'm going out to get us food. You want anything?”

“I could go for something,” she said, pulling her paperwork back to her to get back to work. “What'd you have in mind?”

“I'll be happy with anything if I don't have to go out at two in the morning for like, watermelon and crab legs and peanut butter fudge ice cream, or something like that,” he said, smiling as he pulled a leather jacket over him.

“Smartass,” she said, not bothering to look up from writing. “Pizza?”

“Pizza works,” he said, snatching his keys from the counter. “I'll be back.”

“Mmmkay,” she mumbled, putting pen to the paper as she heard him open the door.

She expected to hear the door close after only a few seconds, but she never heard it – and was surprised when she heard him speak.

“Addy?”

She wrinkled her nose, looking up from her papers. “Yeah?”

“Come here,” came the low response.

She sighed as she lifted herself from the chair, walking barefoot over the linoleum floor of the kitchen. When her feet hit the fibers of the carpet, she saw him standing in front of their opened door, frozen while looking at it.

“What's wrong?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

He didn't respond, but she saw it before he could – something long and slender sticking out of the wood of their door. She walked toward it and as she got closer to it, it finally came into her full view.

A knife.

Her hands flew to her mouth as she released a half-scream, half-shrieking sound. The clean, shiny metal tip of the hunting knife was stabbed deep into their door, holding in place two papers.

“Get back,” Lance said, motioning his hand for her to take a few steps back for her own safety. When she did, he grabbed the white bone handle of the knife, yanking it out until it released the papers.

“What are they?” she said, watching as he sat the knife out of harm's way on a table near the door and put the papers up into his sights.

“It's the People article,” he said, holding up the larger paper, which she recognized as the same article he had brought her, ripping straight from a copy of the magazine. “And...another one.”

She watched him lift the white card up for a moment for her to see, before turning it back to himself.

“'Congratulations are in order',” he read from it. “'Honeymoon's over lovers...now, the hunt is on. We'll be speaking soon.'”

Chapter 25 – Psychological Warfare

“Eat something.”

He jumped when the white paper bag landed in front of him, the ice cubes in his glass clanking up against the sides.

“I'm not hungry,” he replied.

“Oh, that's right,” she said, bending down to pick up the plastic and glass bottles up from the floor, holding them up by the necks in her hand. “These days, you drink your dinner. I forgot.”

Ignoring her, he sunk deeper into the hotel's leather recliner, lifting the glass to his lips. The ice stopped at his lips while he let the liquid fall into his mouth, biting and burning at his throat as the rough, cheap vodka went down.

“What is this crap?” he asked, sneering at the glass in his hand. “I thought I told you to get me the good stuff, Mackenzie!”

She turned from the trash bag, where she was stuffing a week's worth of alcohol bottles and fast food trash in, and narrowed her eyebrows.

“My apologies, sire,” she said, placing her hand on her hip. “Doing your bidding incognito limits my goddamn options a bit!”

She was startled when he lifted his arm and threw the half-full glass across the room, letting it hit the wall as it splashed vodka and ice everywhere.

“Clean it up,” he said gruffly, turning to look at her.

She huffed a breath, a mixture of shock and anger running through her. After a pause, she sat the trash bag down on the ground beside her and walked over to the corner next to the chair, bending down to first pick up the glass, then the cubes.

He watched her a moment, and after he was sure she was doing as he asked, he lifted himself off the chair. He walked over to the dresser he had turned into a makeshift bar, pulling out another short glass and placing three ice cubes in it, then pulling out the bottle of Jack Daniels.

“Did you deliver it?” he asked as he cracked the seal and started pouring it into the glass.

She looked up, sighing when she saw him pouring. “Yeah, I did exactly as you asked, Marc.”

“Knife and all?” he asked, spinning the cap back on the bottle and swishing the liquid around the glass.

“Knife, article, note and all,” she responded, finally leaning back up once the last cube was picked up off the carpet.

“Did they bite?” he asked.

“I don't know,” she said. She walked to the bathroom and grabbed a dirty towel off the linoleum tile in front of the shower, checking to see how dry it was before bringing it back to the room to sop up the vodka from the carpet. “I didn't invite myself in to see their reaction.”

“Well did anyone see you?” he asked, his tone already becoming impatient.

“No, I don't think so.” She knelt in place again, placing the towel on the floor as the liquid soaked into the towel. “Their new apartment building is quiet. Not like their old apartment – they always had that neighbor girl nosing around...Mel? Whatever her name is.”

“That nosy neighbor is the key to our success, Mack,” he said.

“Don't call me Mack,” she said. “God, Marc, you know I hate that nickname.”

“Hey,” he said forcefully. “As long as I'm in charge of this operation, I'll call you whatever the hell I damn well please...Mack.”

She sighed, turning away from him to go back to soaking up the spilled vodka.

“That nosy neighbor is the key to our success,” he repeated as he sat back in the leather recliner.

“How?” she asked. “How does that girl have anything to do with this? She wasn't even around until they moved back to New York. She knows nothing about the affair or the divorce.”

“The beauty of it is, that doesn't matter,” he said. “They're friends. The minute Loverboy hinted at any disdain towards neighbor girl, Addy turned on him. She always has been a bit of a pitbull in sheep's clothing.”

“They fought for a week straight,” she stated. “Even after he apologized to the girl and got an ass made out of himself, she still wouldn't talk to him. It went exactly as planned – with a little bonus.”

“And yet...” he said, then paused. “And yet, our plan didn't work, did it?”

“No,” she answered. “It didn't.”

“Why do you think that is?” he asked.

“Because it was a half-assed plan thought up in the middle of one of your cheap vodka-induced, drunken stupors?” she asked, a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

“No,” he sneered, glaring at her from his chair. “It didn't work because we're targeting them.”

“You're drunker than I thought,” she said, rolling her eyes, then sighed heavily. “That's the point, Marc. Conjure jealousy and mistrust, drive a wedge between them, get her to leave him, yadda yadda...unless I missed something along the way, they were supposed to be the target.”

“The plan's changed,” he said, lifting the glass to his lips again.

“Again?” she asked, exasperated.

“The girl,” he said, pausing to savor the taste of the Jack versus the cheap vodka. “Follow her.”

“Marc, no,” she said, throwing the towel in her hand on the foot of the bed and shaking her head. “No. This has nothing to do with her. I didn't sign up for this. In fact, I didn't sign up for any of this – I'm only doing this because I need the money. Money that I haven't seen a dime of, by the way.”

“You will,” he said with a nod, looking deep into his glass. “You and your mom will be plenty taken care of, Mackenzie. I promise. But you have to work for it first.”

“This is...fucked up, Marc,” she said.

“Life is fucked up,” he responded, setting his glass down on the side table next to him. “It was pretty fucked up when my only daughter died. It was fucked up when my wife left me for a guy from a boy band that she worked for. It was fucked up when life dealt me this shitty hand of cards that I'm expected to play with!”

She jumped when, with a swipe of his hand, he knocked the glass off the table in a fit of anger.

“I just want my payday,” she said lowly.

“We all just want our payday,” he growled. “You'll get your payday when I get mine.”

“I still care about him, Marc,” she said. “He doesn't have to die. We can walk away from this.”

“I don't walk away from anything.”

Growing tired of his drunken temper tantrums and erratic behavior, she let her arms fall down to her sides.

“Have it your way,” she said. “I'm not standing here watching you spiral tonight.”

She breezed past him to grab her coat and purse from the bed, throwing them over her arm before turning to the door.

“When you're finished dicking around, call me and let me know the new plan so we can finish this,” she said, opening the hotel door. “I'm tired of waiting around and watching you drink yourself stupid.”

He grimaced as the door slammed behind her, the loud bang making its way to his head. It throbbed as the echo rang inside.

It was a simple plan, and a good one; why she had to have such a bad attitude about it, he didn't know. It wasn't as if she had anything more important to do with her time. Her acting career was on the downfall, her father dead and her aging mother in full-time hospice care. She had nothing else good going for her. A jilted lover like he was, he would have figured she would relish the opportunity to get back what was stolen from her.

Once the ringing in his head stopped, he looked down to see the second glass on the floor, the Jack soaking into the carpet and the ice cubes already melting. Groaning, he lifted his aching body from the chair, walking over to the dresser to pour yet another glass.

Hopefully he could control his temper and not use this one to decorate the room.

“Stupid fuck.”

He had pulled out the glass and spun the cap back off the bottle when he heard the voice. In an instant, he grabbed his knife from the dresser beside him and spun around.

“Who's there?” he asked.

The image in front of him looked down at the outstretched knife in his hand with his deep, sea green eyes and laughed.

“You think that will help you?” Lance said. “You're stupider than I thought, Marc.”

“Where did you come from?” Marc asked, pushing the knife a couple inches closer.

“Your head,” Lance responded, smiling.

Marc blinked his eyes a few times, hoping that the image in front of him would disappear. There was no way it could be real.

“You're delusional,” Lance whispered as he took a few steps toward him, confirming Marc's suspicions. “Out of your mind.” He twirled his index finger in a circle near his ear. “Of course, your three-way relationship with Jack and Jim isn't helping, I don't think.”

“What do you want?” Marc asked.

“How insane does one person have to be to talk to his own hallucinations?” Lance said, smiling as he passed by. “Then again, you're getting answers...you must be beyond help.”

“What are you doing here?” Marc asked again. “What do you want from me?”

The dark blonde-haired man turned from his saunter across the room to look back.

“I don't want anything from you,” he said. “I already took what I wanted. She's mine now.”

It was then that Marc felt his anger start to boil.

“Get out,” he said.

“Oh, now you're trying to kick your own delusions out?” Lance said with a laugh. “Sorry to burst your crazy bubble there...but it doesn't work that way.”

“Get out of my head,” Marc said, reducing himself to a whimpering.

“No can do, Marky Mark,” Lance said. “You carry me with you everywhere. Your little grudge. It's what drives you to keep going...and to keep drinking.”

Even though Marc thought it was impossible, he watched as his own personal delusion of his arch-enemy picked up the bottle of Jack and held it up to him.

“This stuff might kill you, you know,” he said. “I mean, actually kill you – not like that pathetic attempt at an alibi of throwing yourself off a bridge you concocted. You think I'm a stupid boybander, and even I could have come up with something better than that.”

“Why are you here?” Marc groaned, his voice growing louder, his hands reaching up to grasp his head – hoping to knock himself straight.

“I told you, you carry me with you everywhere,” Lance said, setting the bottle down. “It's finally driven you nuts – the idea that I have everything that was once yours. I took it all. I'm the one who puts flowers on your daughter's grave now. I have a re-blossoming career while yours fails. Oh, and there's one more thing I have of yours...”

“No,” Marc begged, his hands squeezing the sides of his head.

“I'm the one who gets to fuck her every night,” Lance said, his voice turning to an evil growl as he whispered in Marc's ear. “She calls out my name now. Over...and over...and over again.”

“Stop it.” Marc shook his head. “You're not real.”

“I'm only as real as you make me,” Lance whispered. “It's not me...it's you.”

Marc squeezed his eyes tightly, hoping when he opened them that the image in front of him would be gone. When he did, and his vision cleared from the blurry mess the influence of the alcohol had created, Lance was no longer in front of his face.

But it didn't take him long to realize, to his horror, he was not only not gone – that his mind had added one.

“Lance,” Adeline said, her voice low and sultry, hanging her arms around his shoulders.

“No,” Marc responded forcefully.

“She can't keep her hands off me,” Lance said, smiling as she ran her lips and tongue up his neck, moving to his ear.

She moaned, looking over at Marc before he watched Lance pull her towards him, leaning down to take over her neck, pulling her hair slightly.

“Mmmm,” she moaned, her eyes closing.

“Stop it.”

Grasping his head as tightly as he could in his hands, his world now spinning no doubt due to the overload of alcohol he had consumed that day, he couldn't make the visions stop on command. Even with his eyes closed, he could hear them in the room – or in his head, rather, taking over his sanity.

He heard her moan again and opened his eyes to see him lifting her shirt to reveal a lacy bra, cupping a breast in his hand as he glanced back at Marc.

“You like that?” he whispered in her ear.

“Mmm-hmm,” she answered, her head falling back against the wall at his touch.

“Get out of my head,” Marc said, his knuckles turning white from his tight grasp on the handle of the knife.

“You want him to watch?” Lance asked her, a small grin coming to his face.

She only smiled back and let out a giggle before letting his lips fall to hers again.

As he saw Lance reach down and grab her leg, bringing it up to wrap around his waist, Marc closed his eyes and let the anger take over him. He adjusted the knife in his hand, bringing it up to his chest.

“Stop it!”

“Marc!”

He didn't know what it felt like to black out, but he must have done exactly that – because when he opened his eyes, he saw Mackenzie standing in front of him, a bewildered and terrified look on her face. He had lost all sense of time – he could have been out for seconds, or hours.

“Where are they?” he asked her. He noticed he was standing in front of the wall they had been leaning against. He turned around to get a full view of the room – no sight of them anywhere.

“Where are who?” Mackenzie asked. “Marc, what the fuck are you high on?”

“They...they were here,” he said, pointing around the room. “Both of them. Taunting me. He was...he was right here!”

“You're out of your ever-loving mind,” she said. “We're completely alone. I came back because I heard you screaming. I walked in and all you were saying is 'get out of my head' – and then you charged at the wall and...well, look.”

She pointed at the wall where his delusions had once been, and he saw the knife he had been holding – at some point, he had stabbed it clean into the wall, with enough force for the tip to go in several inches.

“You're psychotic,” she said. She grabbed the bottles of Jack and vodka from the dresser, tucking them under her coat on her arm. “Last call, Marc. Get some serious help.”

He was still recovering from confusion as she walked out of the room, leaving him alone yet again. He took in deep breaths and wiped the sweat that had gathered off his forehead, collapsing in the recliner.

He would never be able to escape the grasps they had on him.

Chapter 26 – Headstrong

“So Joey, what's the name of the new show called?”

Lance glanced over at his crew member, Drew, then immediately over at Joey.

“It's called My Family Recipe Rocks,” Joey responded.

“And you go into people's houses and they teach you some of their favorite recipes, is that right?” Lisa, known as Giggles to the rest of the crew, asked.

Lance leaned back in his chair and watched on as Joey discussed his new show with the crew. One of his favorite times of the day was when it was time to do his radio show. He loved sitting here at the table, his whole crew around him – Drew, Lisa, Heather, and Michael – being surrounded by microphones and equipment.

Until Adeline had approached him with the opportunity to work for Sirius, he had never considered himself being a radio host. During his days with the group he had various opportunities to host television shows, like TRL and the occasional daytime talk show as a special guest host, but he had never considered having his own show. It had taken a while to get used to, but he couldn't imagine doing anything else with his career right now.

He loved being back in music – if only indirectly.

“That's an interesting concept for a cooking show,” Heather said. “It's different. You know, it's not the host cooking like a lot of shows.”

“That was one of the reasons the idea intrigued me,” Joey said. “My family are all food lovers. We love to cook – and I liked the concept of doing something I loved while meeting new people and learning about new cultures and family traditions.”

“You meet some interesting people, Joe,” Lance finally said, a smile on his face. “Tell us about some of your weirdest encounters with people you've had on the show.”

“Oh man,” Joey said, rolling his head. “We meet all kinds. Like we did back in the day, you remember?”

Lance nodded. “I remember. Room service cart girl?”

“I'm not getting chased by girls running behind buses anymore,” Joey said. “Some of them do get pretty wild, but I like doing the show and it's not too bad. Some of them get 'hands on', if you know what I mean.”

“How does your wife feel about that?” Michael asked.

“She's dealt with that for a lot longer than I've been doing the show,” Joey said with a chuckle. “She's used to it. As long as this big Fatone ghetto booty is coming home to her, she's fine.”

“You do have a pretty big booty,” Lance said with a laugh.

“I'm the J-Lo of Italian men,” Joey responded. “Juvenile wrote the song 'Back That Azz Up' about me.”

“How did we go from cooking to J-Lo's butt?”

“Giggles, it's Joey Fatone in the hizzle,” Lance said.

“Fo' shizzle my nizzle,” Joey responded.

“That must have been one interesting time riding with you two on a tour bus for months at a time,” Heather said, looking at them both and shaking her head. “No wonder Chris is insane.”

“No, that's from all the time he spent hanging out with Justin and having his hair braided too tightly,” Lance said, laughing. “We have to go to a commercial but we'll be back with more from Joey, on Dirty Pop.”

Lance switched the airwaves to a commercial break and looked at Joey, both of them removing their headphones. He grabbed his empty coffee mug and left his crew sitting around the table with Joey, conversing among themselves, to head over to the opposite side of the room.

Coffee. It was the only way he survived these days. He wouldn't tell Addy so as not to pile on unnecessary worries for her, but he had never been so stressed in his life.

His first child. Being married. To top it all off, someone ruthlessly stalking them...when it didn't appear that they were going to go away like he had originally thought. When Addy wasn't keeping him up in the middle of the night worrying if something was wrong – if the wiggles she felt in her stomach meant bad things, or the absence of wiggles meant something bad – he was keeping himself up.

He had known walking into this relationship with her about her history with pregnancies, that one day they would also become his history. It was one thing when it was only a thought – the thought that he'd like to attempt to conceive a child and start a family with her, even knowing the road ahead of them might be long and bumpy, if not rocky, like crawling on your hands and knees on a cobblestone pathway.

But it was an entirely different story now that it had become a reality. He was a person who, while not as obsessively as Addy, liked to plan for things. Now that he had a wife who relied on him, it meant even more that he wanted to plan for his life, even knowing that things may not turn out the way he ideally wanted. Knowing he had a baby on the way, he wanted to be prepared – Addy's tiny apartment was no place to raise a child, and he wanted his family to have a nice house to grow in. He was anxious to put together a nursery before the next five months slipped away from them, so they wouldn't find themselves driving to the hospital and worrying about being unprepared to bring a baby home.

But it was all a slippery slope. For her, he could see the pain in her eyes at the thought of putting together yet another nursery and coming home one day to realize that it would forever be empty. She wanted to, but she also wanted to protect herself from the pain she knew she might realistically have to face. For him, his thoughts of planning and preparing were quickly replaced by the thought that having children might not be as simple as he'd always thought; that this time he might be the one coming home with empty arms next to her. That was what always ended up freezing all thoughts of planning for him.

Planning for having a new baby eventually turning into planning to grieve for that child...it was too much.

And that's what kept him up at night. He was now in her shoes, when he wasn't before. Like she couldn't know or understand what was going on inside her body at any given minute, neither could he. He couldn't control it. He couldn't change it. He couldn't stop whatever was going to happen from happening. He could only wait.

And it was slowly driving him crazy.

“Hey.”

As he was pouring himself a fresh cup of coffee, he felt Joey's hand hit his shoulder from behind, and turned his head to look at him.

“Hey,” Lance said, shaking a sugar packet. “Good to have you on the show today.”

“Good to be here,” Joey responded, his voice soft. “You okay?”

“Me? Oh yeah, I'm fine,” Lance said.

“Don't lie to me,” Joey said. “You're awful at it. You're quiet and you look like you're about to fall into the bags under your eyes and never find your way out.”

“I didn't get much sleep last night,” Lance said. “Not a big deal.”

“Last night. The night before that. The night before that,” Joey said, his voice trailing. “I do have Addy's phone number, and I do occasionally text her to see if she's reached the point in marriage that she's got your balls in a vice yet.”

Lance chuckled. “Best idea we ever had was to elope – if only to avoid your toast at the wedding.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Joey said, reaching to pour his own cup of coffee. “So what's up? Why aren't you getting any sleep? She says you toss and turn so much at night that you keep her up and if you don't stop, she might suffocate you with her pillow soon.”

“Doesn't sound like that bad of an idea right now,” Lance said with a sigh.

“Is it really that bad?” Joey asked. “Is all of this with the baby so bad that it's come to this?”

Lance tapped his coffee mug. “Joe, you've got two daughters.”

After a pause, Joey nodded. “Yeah, unless Kelly knows something that I don't, I've got two daughters.”

“Imagine – for a minute – back when Kelly was pregnant with Brianna,” Lance said. “Knowing the likelihood of something going wrong was a lot higher. Knowing that you can't begin to understand what's going on inside your wife's body at that moment. Knowing that if something is wrong, you can't help her with it.”

Joey only stared at him.

“Imagine being in the kitchen one evening trying to cook your wife a good dinner because she can't do it herself. All of a sudden, you hear her start to sob on the couch. You listen to those sobs turn to cries. You walk over, trying not to panic thinking something is wrong and avoid scaring her, and ask her what's wrong. And she looks up at you with tears in her eyes and tells you that after waiting two and a half hours, she finally felt a flutter in her stomach. And it's only a minor relief because then it starts all over again – she's going to wait another two hours to feel something, so she can feel the tiniest bit of relief for a few minutes. You watch her obsess over it – and you can't do anything for her.”

Joey averted his eyes, looking down at the floor.

“That's why I'm not sleeping,” Lance said. “That's why I toss and turn. That's why I live on coffee to get through the day. I carry her worries along with my own. I don't even get the reassurance of feeling that...flutter to put my mind at ease.”

“The doctor told her that things looked great last time though, right?” Joey asked. “Doesn't that count for something?”

There were so many things going through Lance's head that he could say – everything was fine last time, but that was 'last time', and 'last time' was a long time ago – but he finally understood Addy now. It didn't matter what you said to a person; until they walked in your shoes, they could never understand.

“It counts for nothing, Joe,” Lance said. “It counts for nothing.”

Lance turned around and saw Michael motioning to them that they were about to be back on the air, and he felt Joey gently breeze past him as his phone rang from his pocket. Taking a few steps forward slowly, he reached in for it and brought it up to look at the screen.

Seeing Addy's name pop up on the screen, worry set in.

“Guys, start without me,” he said, not looking up at them. “I gotta take this.”

Nobody even looked twice at him as he exited the studio door, entering into the hallway before he pushed the button to connect the call.

“Hey baby, everything okay?” he asked, putting the phone to his ear.

“Everything's fine...baby.”

Lance narrowed his eyebrows. The voice on the other end was a gruff male voice.

“Who is this?” he asked.

“Take a guess,” the voice said.

It only took a moment for Lance to realize it. We'll be speaking soon. It had been the last note they had received, no more than two weeks ago. The fact that it had been delivered with a knife stabbed through their door had been a concerning message.

And then he realized...the name on his caller ID had been his wife's.

“Where is she?” he asked, feeling a sudden panic.

“Don't worry, she's at home,” the caller said. “Safe and sound. Just like you left her. Of course, that could change pretty easily.”

“How did you get her phone?” Lance asked.

“It's called Caller ID spoofing,” the voice said. “Fun, isn't it?”

“What do you want from us?” Lance asked.

“I want to see you suffer,” the voice said. “It would give me great pleasure.”

“You know, it's pretty clear that this is between you and me,” Lance said. “Why do you have to drag my wife into it? Why can't you leave her be if it's me you really want?”

“Because it's not half as fun that way.”

Lance pursed his lips. “Who are you?”

“Take a guess,” the caller repeated, a smile in his voice.

“I'm not into playing games,” Lance said.

“Oh, but I am.”

Hearing the studio door open and shut behind him, he looked to see Joey join him. Lance locked eyes with him, and after an instant thought, brought the screen on his phone to life to switch the call over to speakerphone.

“It's so much fun playing games with you, Lance,” the caller said. “Watching your every move...how you worry about her...trying so hard to keep her safe.”

“I'll die before I let anything happen to her,” Lance responded. “You'll have to get through me first, asshole, before you ever get to her.”

“You're right,” the caller teased. “I will have to get through you first. But don't worry...I'm getting closer.”

“Try me,” Lance said. “I survived a fucking fire. See what you can do next.”

“Feisty,” the voice said in a biting tone. “Headstrong. I like it. It makes things more challenging. I'm always up for a challenge.”

“So am I,” Lance said. “The challenge is finding you. And when I do, I'll be the one having fun.”

The caller chuckled. “I don't think so.”

“Don't be so sure of yourself,” Lance said. “It'll be your undoing.”

“Take your own advice. You're pretty sure of yourself, too – confident you can protect her. Confident you can protect yourself. Confident that you'll win and I'll lose.”

“The cops get closer to finding you every day,” Lance said, even though he knew it was a lie. Analysis on the cardstock the notes were written on had come up empty. All the notes were typed, so there was no chance of handwriting analysis. There was never any fingerprints or DNA on anything – not a drop of sweat, blood, a single strand of hair...nothing. “Abrams will find you.”

“Abrams is an idiot,” the caller said. “The whole NYPD are idiots. I'm right under their nose; and yet...they can't find me.”

“They will when I pay them a visit and have them trace this phone call.”

The caller laughed loudly. “Give it up. How stupid do you really think I am?”

“Stupid enough to do all this while you have an audience,” Lance said. “All for attention. Seems pretty stupid to me.”

“It's more fun with an audience. She's not safe anywhere. It'll be even better now that she's pregnant.”

“Fuck you,” Lance growled and immediately hung up the phone, his fit of anger finally taking him over.

“Chris and Mel are headed over to check on Addy, just in case,” Joey said, and it was finally then that Lance noticed Joey had taken his phone out of his pocket.

“I'm not even fucking safe at work now,” Lance said, shoving his phone in his pocket and pushing the studio door open roughly.

All he could do was go back to work and let the world continue turning...and hope that this would all end soon.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“God, I hope she's okay.”

Chris could hardly keep up with Melissa as she rushed from the elevator down the hallway toward Addy's apartment door.

“I'm sure she's fine,” Chris said. “Joey said it was a precaution.”

His words fell on Mel's deaf ears as she reached Addy's door. She didn't bother knocking, instead immediately turning the knob. To both of their surprise, it opened immediately.

“Unlocked,” Mel said. “Addy wouldn't do that.”

“She probably forgot to lock it when Lance left,” Chris said. He didn't even believe himself.

Mel opened the door slowly, peering in before walking in carefully.

“Addy!” Mel yelled through the apartment. Hearing only silence except for the television, she took another step inside, with Chris following quickly. “Addy!”

“Addy, where are you?” Chris yelled after her.

When they heard nothing, Mel stepped inside further and started walking through the living room to search for her friend.

“Guys, what's going—oof!”

As she was about to walk down the hallway to start the search, Addy came around the corner and they ran into each other.

“Addy, are you okay?” Melissa asked, immediately concerned when Adeline put her hand on her stomach.

“I'm fine,” she chuckled.

“Why'd you take so long to answer us?” Chris asked.

“Uh, hello, I'm pregnant,” Adeline said, pointing out her rounding stomach. “I take a bit longer to do everything these days.”

“Is anyone else here with you?” Chris asked. “Did anybody come to the door?”

“Besides you two, no,” Addy responded. “What's going on?”

Instead of answering, Chris walked back to the door and grabbed an umbrella out of the holder. Brandishing it like a baseball bat, he walked past them down the hallway.

“Oh brother,” Mel said, rolling her eyes.

“What in the world have you let him smoke today?” Adeline asked Melissa with a laugh.

“Come on, I'll make you tea and explain it all to you while Sergeant Stupid does his perimeter search,” Melissa said, grabbing Addy's arm to lead her to the kitchen.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So he called Lance at the station?” Addy asked before taking a sip of her warm tea that Melissa had put in front of her.

“On his cell phone,” Chris said with a nod, taking a bite out of a muffin.

“What did he say?”

“Your typical stalker stuff,” Chris said. “Hi, how ya doin', I really wanna kill you...”

Melissa reached out and smacked Chris on the chest with the back of her hand.

“Ow,” he said as she gave him a dirty look.

“Don't scare her half to death,” Melissa said. “And for the love of all that's holy, chew with your mouth closed.”

“Yes, mother,” Chris sniped.

“He told Lance that it was more fun with an audience,” Melissa said, looking at Addy. “That you weren't safe anywhere, and that it would be even more fun now that you're pregnant.”

“What did Lance say?”

“A few choice words,” Chris said, purposely chewing with his mouth open to annoy Melissa. “'Fuck you' were two of them.”

“Fantastic,” Addy said. “A pissed-off, creepy stalker is much better than just a creepy stalker.”

“I'm just glad you're okay,” Melissa said. “Lance will be too.”

They all went silent, but after only a few seconds, Melissa's phone dinged from her back pocket. She leaned up from the counter and grabbed it, her eyes narrowing when she saw a new text message from Chris pop up.

“Jesus Chris, are you butt-texting me again?” she asked. While he reached into his own pocket to grab his phone, she shook her head. “I'm going to teach you how to lock that thing.”

“Um...it's not me,” Chris said, turning his phone around towards her. From his screen of sent text messages, the first on the list was Joey – the last person he had responded back to.

Her eyebrows knitted together, and she swiped her finger across the screen slowly to bring up the text message. Chris and Mel exchanged a glance when they saw her eyes widen, fear painted across her face.

“What, Mel?” Addy asked.

“What's it say?” Chris asked.

“I'm coming after you next,” Mel said.

Chapter 27 – Obsessed

“Chris, I'll be fine.”

Melissa adjusted her messenger bag, loaded down with heavy books and notebooks and personal items, over her shoulder. She carefully took each step down the concrete staircase, her hand that wasn't holding the phone brushing against the metal of the railing to keep her body balanced. Naturally a klutz, in the low light, she was even more afraid that she would trip over her own feet.

“You're walking by yourself, at nine at night, at a university, with no witnesses, to your car in a parking garage,” Chris said. “Hello Melissa, have you seen a horror movie? Any horror movie? Because you're about to become one.”

“I don't watch horror movies, they terrify me,” Melissa said with a smile. “I just hide under the bed until it's over.”

“All the more reason for you to never walk alone.”

“Okay, Lance Junior,” she snipped.

Ever since she had received the mysterious text message a week before, right after Lance receiving his prank phone call, all four of them had been on edge. Lance hadn't let Addy be home alone all week. He only left the apartment when necessary, which was usually only for work. When he did have to leave, he usually arranged to have someone at the apartment with her – to which she simply rolled her eyes, pulled out a kitchen knife in an attempt to look scary, and told Lance she didn't need a constant babysitter at 29 years old.

Since Melissa had obviously been pulled into it all with the new threat against her, Chris and Lance had turned part of their attention to her. Both insisted she either be accompanied at all times – like Addy – or if it was absolutely necessary that she be out alone, that she have someone on the phone with her, like now.

If it wasn't Chris, it was Lance. She had spent more time talking with him in one week than she had in the entire time she had known him. It was odd. Even odder – they were all of a sudden growing close, kindling somewhat of a friendship.

“I've been compared to worse things than Lance before,” Chris said. “I'm disappointed, Weston. You're going to have to do a little better than that if you want to insult me.”

“I have plenty,” she said. “I've been coming up with ways to insult you since day one, Kirkpatrick.”

“Hit me with your best shot, woman.”

“You just want to keep me on the phone longer,” she said with a scoff.

“Maybe I do,” he said. “But are you going to pass up the opportunity to freely insult me like this? You know you're itching to.”

She smiled, feeling herself blush slightly.

Her relationship with Chris was...confusing, at best. Since she had lost everything in the fire and moved in with him, things had been different between them.

Sleeping with him that night had taken her by surprise. She had known for a while that her feelings for him were changing. The night before the engagement party – the night they had almost slept together – she felt a kind of heartbreak that it she hadn't felt in a long time. She wanted to hate him; the problem was, she didn't. Dousing him with alcohol in front of all of Addy and Lance's friends had been a minor comfort, but it didn't take away the pang of rejection that she had felt because of him running out on her that night.

They hadn't spoken again until the day that Lance and Justin had pulled their trick on her. That day, the sting of her feelings for Chris, the rejection she felt, and the hurt she felt after she lost her job had all compounded on her. She had broken down into tears – tears that she couldn't control.

But the way he had come to her rescue – putting aside all of their arguments, putting away the fact that she had publicly embarrassed him, and walking in as if she had been his best friend forever and he was concerned about her – finally made her realize that some part of him cared about her. Whether it was a big or small part, it didn't matter. That was when she realized that he might have actually told her the truth that night. He walked out of her apartment that night not to reject her and make himself look like the hero; he walked out that night because some part of him cared about her and her feelings, and didn't want there to be any regret over a one-night-stand.

The week they had come to a truce was the week she realized she not only liked him – she might have loved him.

She was taking things slowly and carefully. She wasn't ready to rush into a relationship with someone like him after all she had been through. The idea terrified her. She wasn't sure she was ready to be in any relationship, to be honest. They had slept together – not only the once, she admitted – and occasionally she would be in the kitchen...cooking a meal...and she would feel him sneak up behind her, snake his arm around her waist as she danced and sang along with the music she played from her phone, and she would find them having a “moment”.

He would gently kiss her right behind her earlobe. She would close her eyes in response. It felt right. It felt okay; she was temporarily in heaven. This was how it was supposed to be.

And then it would end, all too soon. He would back off to give her space, and she would go back to cooking for them, and the rest of the night would pass as if nothing had happened. That was okay, too.

The healed part of her heart wanted so much more...the still-wounded part stopped her in her tracks.

“Come on, Weston,” Chris urged, waiting for her reply. “Give me what you got.”

“Shouldn't I focus on not becoming a horror movie?” she asked with a smile. “I mean, I am walking alone, at nine at night, at a university...”

“You got nothin',” Chris said. “What a waste, I give you a perfect opening to torture me and you can't even come up with anything.”

“I have stuff,” she said. “I'm saving my best ones for a rainy day.”

Adjusting her bag over her shoulder again as it slipped, Melissa crossed the street, the parking garage coming into her view.

“Chris, I'm going into the parking garage and reception is terrible,” she said. “I'm going to lose you. I'll call you back once I'm back on the highway.”

“No, Mel,” he said. “I'm staying on the phone with you. I don't want you walking through a parking garage alone in the middle of the night with some psycho Scream-sequel wannabe on the loose.”

“I don't exactly have a choice, Chris.”

“You can talk to me until you lose reception, then,” Chris said, and she rolled her eyes.

“Don't I get enough of you at home?” she asked. “Now I have to be technologically attached to you at all times? Why don't you put a chip in my collar so if I run away the vet can track me?”

“Woman, I'm a little tired of your attitude,” Chris said, and she giggled at him trying to make his voice sound “tough”. “Don't you laugh at me. I think we need to set some ground rules around this--”

Five feet into the covered garage, his voice suddenly cut off. She lowered the phone from her ear to peek at the screen, not surprised when it said “Call Lost”.

“Told you,” she said to herself with a smile, shaking her head.

The walk to her car at the other end was a short one. The heels of her black boots slapped heavily against the pavement, creating an echo through the parking garage. She had to admit, it was eerie.

Only a few feet from her car, her phone rang in her hand. She stopped in place, confused – she had signal? Only a few seconds after losing her connection with Chris?

Figuring it was him calling her back, she briefly peeked at the caller ID, and that's when her blood ran cold.

Derek W, the screen read.

“No,” she said quietly to herself, shaking her head in disbelief. “No way, it can't be.”

She panicked a moment. She wasn't ready for this moment. She had kept his name in her phone, just in case. She didn't want to be caught off guard if this moment ever came. She had thought she prepared herself for it, but now she realized...there was no way she could ever prepare for this.

She paused reluctantly a moment before pressing the green “accept” button on her touchscreen, licking her lips and taking a breath before putting it up to her ear.

“H-hello?” she stuttered, closing her eyes in preparation.

“Hello, Melissa.”

The deep voice was frightening, but for a moment, a wave of relief washed over her – that wasn't his voice. It didn't sound anything close to his voice. Then the fear set in again.

“Who is this?” she asked.

“Who do you think it is?” the voice asked.

“How do you have Derek's number?” she asked.

“I like to do my research,” the voice said.

Without having been there the day that Lance received his phone call, it was obvious to her – this was the person who had called him, the person who was stalking them.

“How do you know my phone number?” she asked, taking a few steps forward until she reached her car door, setting her messenger bag on the ground next to her.

“I've researched you too, dear, sweet Melissa,” the voice said. “This is the information age. You wouldn't believe all the details that are available if you have the right connections. Melissa Weston, born and raised in Little Rock, Arkansas, an only child. Parents Paul and Catherine Weston, maiden name Hendricks. Attended Little Rock Central High School, graduated in the year 2000 with a 3.9 GPA at the top of your class. From there you attended University of Arkansas in Fayetteville. You graduated with your Bachelor's in Accounting. You moved to New York in December 2011 to attend the Institute of Culinary Education and you worked at Bloomingdale's until you were fired a month ago. Should I go on?”

“I get it,” Melissa said. “You know your shit.”

“Yes, I do,” the voice said confidently.

“What do you want from me?” she asked.

“You're my insurance,” the voice said. “You're how I'm going to draw Addy out of her hidey-hole.”

“And how are you going to do that?”

Melissa reached into her pocket, pulling out her keychain. She reached for her largest key, her car ignition key, and placed it sharp side out between her index and middle finger as she'd heard it could be effective as a self-defense weapon.

“That's cute,” the voice said. “Thinking a key can protect you.”

Her shoulders drooped. Dropping her key-holding hand to her side, she looked around the entire parking garage, wide-eyed.

“You can't see me,” the voice said. “But I can see you.”

“It's cute how you use the lamest, most cliché scare tactics ever,” she said. “Sounds like somebody's been watching too many scary movies to me.”

“But they're effective. You don't like scary movies, do you Melissa?” the voice said. “You hide under the bed until they're over?”

Melissa closed her eyes, trying to calm her nerves and her unsettled stomach.

“That's right, I heard the whole conversation. There's a reason you don't like scary movies, isn't there? Your whole life has been like a bad scary movie, hasn't it?”

“What do you know about my life?” she asked.

“I know why you ran away from Arkansas quick fast and in a hurry,” he said. “You're so afraid of him finding you. And the very fact that I found you, to you, means that so can he.”

“I'm not worried about him,” she lied.

“Oh, you are,” the voice said. “You put up a front for Chris and Addy and Lance. You keep your secrets locked up inside because you're afraid of what they would do if they found out. You think your problems will only come in and disrupt their perfect, white-picket-fence existence.”

“And what about you?” she asked. “What's your damage, huh? Why are you so obsessed with Addy? She clearly wants nothing to do with you.”

“Damage?” the caller said with a chuckle. “Obsessed? Those are strong words.”

“Are they? I don't know that I'd call them strong for a guy who follows someone's every move for months and drops little notes in their mailbox for kicks.”

“A little fun never killed anybody.”

The way his voice had changed made chills run down her spine.

“Oh wait,” he said. “It did. Oops.”

“It was you,” she said.

“He got in the way. Collateral damage.”

“That's what people are to you, aren't they?” she asked. “Collateral. Accessories. Disposable.”

“You missed your calling, dear, sweet Melissa,” he said. “You should have been a psychologist.”

“You need one,” she retorted. She knew it probably wasn't smart to provoke whoever it was; it was probably as stupid as poking a hungry bear in the woods with a stick. But she was keeping him on the phone – and the longer she kept him on, she knew she might be able to figure out important details about this person.

“You should probably be more careful,” the man finally said. “Walking alone at night, through a parking garage, all by yourself...not a wise move.”

“What are you going to do?” she said. “Attack me? Bring it on.”

The caller chuckled. “I like you, Melissa. You have a fire inside of you. Those are my favorite kind of people.”

Melissa lowered the key from in between her finger and put her hand on the handle of the door, pulling it up to open the door.

“Eh, eh, eh,” the caller said, stopping her in her tracks. “If I were you, I'd take some precautions before you drive off. Tire pressure, headlights...perhaps check your brake lines...”

Her stomach dropped.

“I'm glad we had this chat, Melissa. I look forward to talking with you again.”

And before she could blink, she heard the click of the call disconnecting.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Are you nuts?”

Addy paced the living room, her hand held to her lower stomach, staring at Mel.

“Oh, here's a harmless kitty. Look at his pretty orange and black stripes. Oh, he has sharp claws and pointy teeth. Let's poke him and see what he does!”

“Addy,” Lance said, slightly scolding. “Come on. You're being a little unreasonable.”

“I'm being unreasonable?” she asked, giving him a death glare. “She told a killer that he needed a psychologist.”

“In Mel's defense, he didn't disagree with her,” he said.

She reached down to the couch to pick up a set of knitting needles, attached to a partially finished blanket of fabric in a light yellow color, along with a string of yarn attached to a ball.

“I will finish knitting this, smother you, and bury you with it,” she said, holding it up to him.

“And there's the death threat. This is where I make my exit, Mel,” Lance said, lifting himself up out of the recliner he was seated in. He stopped as he was passing Melissa, leaning in slightly. “Pregnancy's...just great,” he whispered before walking off.

Mel smiled, watching him walk away before turning to Addy and crossing her arms across her chest.

“What are the two of you thinking?” Addy asked, throwing her arms into the air before dropping the blanket back to the couch. “Let's provoke the guy who follows our every move and shot an innocent man in the head. What's the worst that can happen?”

“Addy, he wants us to be afraid of him,” Melissa said. “He feeds off that. If we don't give him the satisfaction, it throws his whole game off.”

“You'd really take that risk?” she asked. “You'd risk your own life that easily?”

“Think about it,” Mel responded. “If what he wanted to do was hurt me, how hard would it have been? He was watching me the whole time. He was even close enough to hear my conversation with Chris. I couldn't see a trace of him anywhere, and it wasn't as if the parking garage was loaded with people. He had access to my car the whole time. But what did he do? Threatened. That's it. Threatened to attack; threatened to cut my break lines; threatened me with personal, private information.”

“I don't get it – who's Derek?” Addy asked. “Why would he use someone that none of us knows against you?”

“Derek is...no one,” Melissa said hesitantly. “Just a guy I used to know in high school. He probably knew that seeing his name on the phone would rile me up and I would be more likely to answer it.”

“Mel,” Addy said, her tone softening, “you have to be careful. Whoever this is, he's not playing games anymore. It was cute at first – they seemed more like creepy love letters. But now a man has been murdered, he's stabbing our doors with knives, he's calling my husband at work...he's not going to get over it and quit. He's going to keep going until he gets what he wants.”

“He doesn't want Mel,” Lance said, coming back into the living room, a bottle of beer in his hand.

“And what exactly is it that you think he wants?” Addy asked, her hands on her hips.

“He wants me,” Lance said, leaning against the door frame. “Dead.”

Chapter 28 – Invisible Man

“I just don't understand how you can be so nonchalant about this.”

Lance leaned back in the soft, leather-upholstered chair, tapping his foot on the gray carpet underneath him.

“Who said I'm nonchalant?” he asked Addy, who sat next to him with her arms crossed over her chest.

“You talk to Mel about this guy like it's no big deal,” she said, looking at him out of the corner of her eye. “Like what she did last night wasn't stupid and irresponsible.”

Lance sighed. He prayed the nurse would call their name soon.

“Was it stupid and irresponsible? Probably,” he said. “But Addy, she has a point. If he wanted to do anything to her last night, he would have. She was alone. There were no witnesses. He had her in his sights and he had the element of surprise. This guy is cool, calm, smart, and patient. He waited for her for hours, probably. He could have done anything – smashed out her windows, hid in her backseat, cut her brakes...but he didn't. He wanted to scare her. He wants attention.”

“I don't want her to get hurt,” she said. “This has nothing to do with her. This is our problem – if she got hurt because of it...”

“I know,” he said. “And that's why Chris and I are putting her on lockdown. Or trying, anyway.”

“You can't treat the two of us like paper dolls, you know,” she said, finally looking over to meet his gaze. “We're not fine china; we're not going to break if we set foot in the daylight.”

“Right now, you are fine china,” he said. “You're not invincible like you seem to think you are, Addy. Especially since you're pregnant. With my child.”

She rolled her eyes. “It's not like he's called me.”

“Next time, shall I tell him you're dying to talk to him?” he asked. “I'd rather keep it the way it is, thank you. Who's being nonchalant now?”

“I'm sorry,” she said. “I'm just tired of being locked up at home, warden.”

“It's not like I'm chaining you to the radiator and feeding you water and scraps of bread, Ad. You're free to do whatever you want as long as you're not alone. You heard the doctor – you need to rest and not push yourself too hard. Even without psycho-freak on the loose, this is the best thing for you and the baby.”

He heard her sigh and slumped his shoulders. He felt bad for her. He knew she was probably tired of being cooped up in the house like she was. Her doctor had all but put her on full-time bedrest, giving her strict restrictions for how much she was allowed to do. Car rides longer than an hour were discouraged – and in New York, it could take that long just to run to the grocery store if the traffic was bad, so she was limited in where she could actually go.

He tried to find interesting things for them to do that wouldn't push her restrictions too far, but as stir-crazy as she was going it was getting harder to find things that would hold her interest. Sometimes he would encourage her to come to the station with him and sit in on the show, but she had only accepted a few times. Most days, she stayed home – restricted to knitting, watching TV and movies, and reading.

He couldn't blame her; he'd start going crazy, too.

“Just remember to roll me over every now and then,” she said. “Don't want me to get bedsores.”

“Addy,” he said. “Come on. Don't get an attitude with me; it's not my fault. I'm trying here, okay?”

She didn't respond, but when he looked over at her, he could see it in her eyes – terror.

It had been like this the past month, but more so over the past two weeks. It wasn't about the restrictions or the stress that being stalked had put them under – her anxiety all stemmed from being at the doctor today.

Today was their 16-week appointment. He could tell she was nearly in tears. Worry had consumed her for the past two weeks at what they would find out today, and whether it would be good or bad. She wouldn't do it in front of him, but he knew that she had spent most of the past few days stewing and crying, keeping it all inside. It would only get worse this coming month, as they got closer to the point that she had lost her daughter – 20 weeks.

He reached over and grabbed her hand, unfolding her arms.

“It will be okay,” he said quietly. “Don't worry.”

Telling Addy not to worry was like telling a dog not to bark – but he saw her try to smile at him, nodding her head slightly.

“Adeline?”

Her name being called got their attention and they both looked up to see the nurse standing there.

“The doctor is ready for you.”

He grasped tightly to her hand as they followed the nurse down the hallway, stopping to check Addy's weight first. He smiled when she grimaced at the nurse continuing to slide the bar over, eventually narrowing her eyes at the scale to give it a dirty look when it stopped.

“Next time they should weigh me at a semi-trailer station,” she mumbled as she stepped off to the nurse, who only looked back at Lance as they both smiled in amusement at each other.

The wait inside the office was a quiet and fast one. They sat there less than five minutes before the door opened and an older man with dark hair graying in a few spots walked in.

“Hello again, Addy,” he said, smiling at her before he looked at Lance, seated next to her in a chair. “And you must be...”

“Lance Bass,” he said, standing up and reaching his hand out. “Her husband.”

“Oh, last time you were here you were engaged,” he said as he looked at Addy, shaking Lance's hand. “I guess congratulations are in order then.”

“Something came up at the last minute,” Lance said with a smile.

“Aha, yes,” the doctor said. “And that's why we're here today. I'm Dr. Cameron, it's nice to meet you, Mr. Bass.”

Lance nodded cordially before letting go of the doctor's hand and taking his seat again.

“How are you feeling today?” the doctor asked, turning to Addy.

“I've felt better,” she said.

“Are you still having bad morning sickness?”

“Not so much anymore,” she said. “It's just...hard.”

The doctor nodded knowingly. “I know. It's about that time. But we're going to get some reassurance today, right?”

“I hope,” she said softly.

They both went quiet as the doctor walked toward her on the table, going immediately to the ultrasound machine. That moment was when Lance's own anxiety hit him – he didn't know if he could face bad news.

He sat next to her, completely silent. She expected him to say something, but he only held her hand at her side while she laid there, his fingers running over hers softly every now and then.

The doctor ran the wand over her stomach, then pressed a few buttons on the machine next to her. Before she knew it, she heard the soft, repeated thrump sound. She knew enough to know what it was, and the sound was enough to bring a tear to her eye.

“The heartbeat sounds good,” the doctor said reassuringly.

A few more quiet moments passed, neither of them speaking to each other. He didn't know what to say to her. He could only feel his own relief.

“Would you like to know what you're having?” the doctor finally asked.

Both of their heads popped up to look at the doctor, then look at each other. Neither of them knew how to answer that question, knowing that attachment could lead to heartbreak.

But he saw it in Addy's eyes – the need to know, even knowing what could happen.

“Yeah,” Lance said, hearing himself choke out the words. “We would.”

“It's a boy,” the doctor said, looking Lance directly in the eyes.

They both paused for a moment, before looking at each other. He wasn't sure how to feel – until she smiled at him, even with tears in her eyes.

“Everything still looks great,” the doctor said, smiling at them both.

The rest of the appointment went by quickly. He didn't absorb half of what the doctor said after that – all he could think about was the fact that he was going to have a son.

By the time they finished up, booking another appointment before they walked out the door and made their way across the parking lot toward his car, both of them felt that the mood was lighter. He walked to his side of the car and instead of breaking away from him, she came to stand next to him, grabbing his face to turn towards her, placing her lips on his.

“A boy,” she said softly, a smile on her face.

He smiled at her before she let go a few seconds later, moving to walk towards her side of the car.

“Just what the world needs,” he said as he reached to open his car door. “Another Bass boy. Born in December, too. Jeez, maybe this is what the Mayans predicted.”

She could only laugh as she opened her door and climbed in.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He adjusted the zoom on the binoculars as he watched them walk out of the clinic, all the way to the car, and embrace each other before kissing.

He felt a pang of anger and reached for the pack of cigarettes and lighter in the center console, shaking one out before placing it between his lips and lifting the flame to it. The end immediately burned bright red as he took his first puff, releasing it into the air.

He hadn't smoked since he was 21 years old. He had quit only a few months after meeting her. He could remember that day on the beach like it was yesterday.

Los Angeles in the summer time – when the temperature even at a reasonable 90 degrees was so sweltering that only a day on the beach would relieve it. He had been with his group of friends enjoying their last summer before graduating college. He had spent those days finishing up his film arts degree at USC, working an errand boy job at a production company in Hollywood.

He was waiting, only hoping for his big break into the film industry. He got it only a few months later after a lot of hard work and a bit of luck – but back in those days, his life was about school and volleyball at the beach.

He had returned the opposing team's serve with zest – realizing it was too much zest when it sailed high over the net, over the heads of the other team, and straight towards two girls laying on beach towels a few feet from the edge of the water, landing square on the head of the brunette on the right.

He remembered running over to her, reaching her only seconds after the ball had hit her, as she held her head in her hand.

“Ow!” she said, scrambling to sit up from her leaned back position.

“I'm so sorry!” he said, kneeling down to her. “Are you okay?”

“I think so,” she said. “Let me ask the stars I see twirling around my head to make sure.”

“I am so sorry,” he repeated. “I got a little overexcited, and I guess I hit it too hard. I don't know my own strength sometimes.”

“Ya think?” her friend said from next to her, her voice thick with an Australian accent. “You okay, Ad?”

“Ad,” he said. “That's unique.”

“It's Adeline, actually,” she said. “At least I think that's my name.”

“That's a beautiful name,” he said.

“Oh, give it a rest buddy,” her friend said. “Beat it.”

“No, Steph, it's okay,” Adeline said, waving her friend's hand away. “He's just trying to apologize. And I'm fine. Really.”

He noticed out of the corner of his eye the dirty look her friend shot toward him, but held his hand out to Adeline anyway.

“I'm Marcus,” he said with a smile. “Marcus Sutton.”

“That's always a great story, isn't it?”

He snapped to reality when he heard the voice from next to him while driving down the street behind their black SUV, turning to see her in the seat.

He had gotten used to the delusions. He wasn't sure if it was the stress or the alcohol that caused them. Maybe it was the occasional illicit drug he used to numb the pain when the vodka and Jack Daniels didn't do the job.

Or maybe he was really going insane.

“Yes, it is,” he responded.

“Those days are over, Marc,” she said. “Done and gone.”

The Adeline he saw in person and the Adeline he saw in his delusions were two totally different people. The new Adeline was the one with bright blonde hair that occasionally showed her darker lowlights in the right sunlight; the one that attached herself to him at every opportunity that presented itself; the one with the pregnant belly he watched grow in front of his eyes – at a distance, of course.

But the Adeline he saw was the sexier, sultrier one he remembered from those days at the beach. The one who used to scream in laughter when he would pick her up while wading in the ocean, yelling at him to put her down as he lifted her over his head, a smile on her face. This Adeline was the one who loved him – before he came along.

“We married six months later,” she said. “We were young, and stupid, and thought everything was perfect as long as we had each other. But everything wasn't perfect.”

“It was perfect for me,” he said, staring at the road out in front of him.

“You've always lived inside your movies,” she said. “That's where your head always was. If there was a camera filming our life together, it would have had a rose-colored lens. You never could see the underlying issues.”

“There was no issue until he came into your life,” he responded. “It's all his fault this happened.”

“No it's not, Marc,” she said. “You know it, she knows it – even I know it, and I'm the delusion that you've created. I'm not even real. There were problems long before he came along; long before she moved to New York; even long before April was born.”

“Don't bring April into this,” he said, gritting his teeth.

“It's a sore spot,” she said. “You can admit it. It's only me here.”

He pursed his lips, fighting tears. He should have known better than to drink before leaving his hotel – it always made him emotional.

“Your daughter was going to be the apple of your eye,” she said. “The only reason for you to go on living – because you really hated yourself. And you knew she hated you, too.”

To tell the truth, he wasn't even sure why they got married to begin with. At first he thought it was the money. After he had gotten the break to direct his first movie and it had quickly turned successful and the money suddenly started coming in, she was more open to the idea of marriage and settling down. But it turned out to be a fluke, and he realized after a time that the money coming in was convenient timing. She was never into the money; she didn't like to go on huge shopping sprees for clothes and shoes and jewelry like most of the other Hollywood wives he knew. She preferred to stay home and bury her nose into her own work, like he did.

“It was all you,” she said. “She quickly realized that you weren't the guy she thought she had married. That's why she buried her nose into work. It was easier to be away from you, dealing with pampered celebrities' demands all day than being married to one full-time.”

“I don't know where I went wrong,” he said. “I gave her everything.”

“You gave her nothing,” she responded. “You gave her money, fame, and financial security – but she didn't want that. She wanted love. She wanted to be needed – to be wanted.”

“I always wanted her.”

“You didn't want her when it mattered,” she said. “You thought the solution to her sadness was throwing plastic at her, handing over the keys to the Mercedes, and letting her hash out her emotions on Rodeo while she spent the profits from your last great career accomplishment. Meanwhile, you would jet set off to whatever country was next on the agenda and expect to have a happy wife when you came home.”

For the first time, she looked over to meet his gaze.

“Pretty things don't make a happy marriage, Marc,” she said. “Love. Emotional security. Desire. Those are the things that make a happy marriage. And she has all of that with him.”

He felt jealousy pierce his heart, and that was when it took over again – anger.

“Not for long,” he said.

“Do you think you can successfully tear them apart?” she asked. “They have true love on their side, and it will always keep them together. It's the bond that can't be broken, the one that stands the test of time and strife. Even if you do succeed, and you do remove him from the picture, her heart will always be with him.”

“I don't care about her heart,” he said. “That's not what I want. You're right; those days are done and gone.”

“If it's not her heart you want, then what is it, Marc?” she asked. “What drives you to continue your quest for revenge?”

“God took away the only thing in my life that meant anything to me,” he said, glancing over at her. “And I refuse to be the only one to suffer through it.”

Chapter 29 – Only Human

A month later

“Do you want any bacon?”

Lance looked up from the newspaper to look at Addy, standing in front of the stove with a spatula in hand, turned around to look at him.

“What?”

“Bacon. Do you want any?” she asked again. “I'm not speaking German.”

“No,” he responded, shaking his head. “You know, you shouldn't be doing that.”

“Making you breakfast like a wonderful wife?” she asked with a smile.

“Making breakfast at all,” he responded. “You know this, Addy.”

“Damn it, Lance,” she said with attitude, even though she was still smiling. “Shut your mouth, read your paper, and let me make you your damn pancakes, okay?”

He pursed his lips but looked away.

“Do you need to wear a helmet when you ride a bike? I mean, you're so hard-headed.”

“Oh, funny,” she said as she approached him with a plate in hand. She sat it in front of him and took the opportunity to use the spatula in her hand to smack him lightly on the back of the head.

“Ow,” he said.

“Eat your food.”

He couldn't help but smile at her, grabbing her arm to bend her down closer to him, kissing her on the lips.

“Stubborn woman,” he said.

“And you love me anyway,” she responded.

“Yeah,” he said before kissing her again. “I do.”

She giggled, but he knew she was only hiding her anxiety and worries behind a constant smile. It was the only way she could cope with the day she had ahead of her.

Today was the exact day in her first pregnancy that she had lost her daughter, at a few days past 20 weeks. He had been counting down, dreading when this day would come, not knowing what the day would bring – for her, and for him.

He had enough common sense to know that it wasn't the exact day that was “cursed” - but he knew that was little consolation to her. It was something about the day. It was the top of her proverbial hill – if she made it to the top, if she made it through this day, the other side was a little easier to walk down. It was a milestone.

But the top of that proverbial hill was rough terrain. The day itself was hard to get past, with a lot of emotions and unwanted memories that he was sure would come washing back to her.

He was trying to be prepared for this day. He was skipping his show tonight and running a Best Of so he could stay home with her. He had a stack of movies they could watch, ones that he had picked out to be less emotionally triggering for her. He had a short list of places they could go if she needed a distraction. But he knew he could be prepared for this day every way except emotionally.

She smiled at him one last time before she leaned up and walked back toward the stove.

“I thought after breakfast, we could make a run to the store,” he said, lifting his coffee mug to his lips. “We could get some snacks and you could get out of the house for a while.”

“You can run there alone,” she said. “I think I'd rather stay home and knit.”

“You've gotta be dying to get out of the house though,” he said. “We'll make it quick.”

“I'm good,” she said, flipping a pancake over.

“Addy, you don't have to--”

“I said, I'm good Lance.”

He looked up to see her staring at him, all traces of the happy smile she had this morning gone.

“Okay then,” he said, knowing not to push her. “You're good.”

He took another sip of coffee as he heard the noises of her cooking resume.

“I'm almost finished with the blanket,” she said. “I might be able to finish it today if I don't make any mistakes. I think I'll try a hat next. What do you think?”

“I think...I sit and watch you and it all confuses me so much that I keep my nose out of it and let you go on being amazing,” he said. “I'd get tangled up and you'd have to cut me out of the mess.”

“I'd leave you tangled up,” she said, her smile returning. “You'd be easier to deal with. Maybe I'll pass the idea along to Mel, to deal with Chris.”

“Could you imagine Chris trying to knit?” he asked, slightly amused. “Trying being operative. I'd pay a hell of a lot of money to see that one happen.”

“I'll threaten to do his makeup next time he passes out here in front of the football game, unless he lets me teach him,” she said. “Not with my good needles though. Knowing Chris, they'd end up tossed across the roo--”

He looked up startled when he heard her lightly shriek and saw her put her hand on her stomach. Panic immediately sank in.

“What's wrong?” he asked, getting up from the chair in haste and walking to her.

He saw her wide eyes and shocked face, trying to gauge whether she was in pain or worried.

“Addy...”

“He kicked,” she said, looking up at him.

“Are you sure?” he asked. Well on his way to becoming a nervous father, he had done his research – and he knew that sometimes it could be hard to distinguish the first kicks from other things.

“Yeah,” she said. “It was low but I felt it. Come here.”

She grabbed his hand and pulled him closer toward her, putting his hand on her bump near her hip bone. When he didn't feel anything for the first minute or so, she pressed his hand into her stomach lightly to move it, and he was surprised to feel a slight, sharp movement.

“Did you feel it?” she asked, seeing the shock register on his face.

“Yeah,” he said quietly.

Seeing a look on his face that she didn't like, she squeezed his hand.

“Hey, what's wrong?” she asked.

He didn't answer her. She looked over his face, watching for any reaction she could. It was several seconds before she finally started to see that his eyes had started to water.

“Oh, Lance,” she said.

All she could do was wrap her arms tightly around him, letting him rest his head on her shoulder as she massaged a hand through his hair.

She knew this moment. It had finally hit him. Her moment had come when she'd first visited April's grave by herself – they'd had a small funeral ceremony of sorts, but she was mostly numb during it, not allowing herself to feel anything. Somehow, finally visiting it alone was what triggered the fact that it was real. It was really happening.

There was only so long of a period of time that you could deny it to yourself, and when it hit, it felt like a ton of bricks. She had collapsed into a heap on her knees in front of the gravestone, not having anyone there to comfort her as she had cried. That was officially when she had started her grieving process, when she opened herself up to finally feel it instead of keeping herself numb.

She had sat by for the past two months and wondered when it would happen for him, or if it even would. They had run off to get married, sat together as they broke the news to his parents, and gone to doctor appointments together. He'd had the chance to hear the heartbeat, see her get rounder every day, and see his child on the ultrasound screen.

He could disconnect from all of that. It was the movement – the very real movement – that had finally triggered it.

“I'm sorry, Addy,” he said. She noticed he wasn't fully crying, but she knew he wouldn't be hiding his eyes if he didn't have some tears. “It just hurts. I want this so bad.”

“So do I,” she said.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“We're here.”

She heard him speak softly from the driver's seat, followed by the sound of his seatbelt retracting.

She stared out into the lush, green cemetery in front of them. Reaching down to her side, she clicked the button to release her own seatbelt, letting it slide back from across her slowly.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked. “We don't have to do this.”

“Yeah,” she said. “It's okay.”

She hadn't planned on going anywhere today. She had planned on staying home, curling up in Lance's comfiest sweatpants and one of his t-shirts, and watching movies with him as she ate her own weight in comfort food. She wanted to hide away from the world. She didn't think she could stand going into even a grocery store and seeing a child in a cart, or even a pregnant woman – as it was, she could barely look at herself in the mirror that morning.

But after both of them had broken down in the kitchen this morning before breakfast had even been eaten, she realized whether she wanted to do this or not – it was something that they both needed.

Hiding away from the world, whether it was too painful or not, was not the solution to the problem. It had to be faced head-on.

“Is today the best day for this?” he asked. “Today will be hard enough. Maybe tomorrow would be a better day to come back.”

“Tomorrow will be like any other visit,” she said. “If we leave and come back tomorrow, we're sweeping it under the rug. We're running away. It has to be today. We have to face this, Lance.”

He nodded, and they both paused a moment before reaching over to their respective car doors, opening them at the same time. She closed her door shortly after she heard his shut, turning around to face away from the car.

It was late August, and as the days of summer were starting to wind down, the ground would be covered with snow before they knew it. But for now, the grass was thick and green. The leaves were only now starting to turn, and a few were already scattered across the Glendale cemetery grounds. She was surprised at how many sprays of flowers covered gravestones, and she instantly felt bad that she hadn't been out here to lay out flowers for months.

Life had been busy – and complicated. Having to live in Los Angeles for over a year for the divorce had left her little chance to fly all the way to New York to visit the cemetery for a day. After they had moved back to New York, the pregnancy had made her constantly tired and nauseous. Now that she was finally feeling better physically, she was on too many restrictions to make regular trips out here – and not in the right place emotionally, either.

So much had changed in the past two years. She had gone from married, to separated, to divorced, and now that she was back out here, she was married again – and pregnant. Something she never expected that she would ever experience again. It was something she didn't think she ever wanted to experience again – but somehow, this time had been different.

As anxious and sad as she was, something about knowing what could happen and expecting the worst made her cherish every moment this time around. There were times that being pregnant was miserable – between the weight gain, the back aches, the constant nausea, always feeling tired, and every other symptom under the sun that she had felt this time – and there were times she would admit that secretly, she didn't want to be pregnant; she wanted to feel like her old self again. But there wasn't a time she wished she wasn't pregnant anymore. She didn't take it for granted, because if it was gone tomorrow, she would miss it.

“How do you carry this weight with you everywhere?” he asked as they stood in front of April's gravestone quietly, his arms wrapped around her chest. “Sometimes I feel like I'm on the edge of a cliff and I have no hope of keeping my balance.”

“You assume I don't feel the same way,” she said. “You find ways to cope because that's the only choice you have. You feel like the world stops turning, but it doesn't – and it goes on with or without you. I had to choose to go with it when I was ready. It gets better as time goes on, but it never goes away. Sometimes I act so normal people forget that it ever happened. Sometimes I stumble but I do a good job pretending that I'm fine. And sometimes I crash face-first. I'm only human. It happens.”

“I never thought I'd have to think about this stuff,” he said.

“None of us do,” she said. “It happens all too often and people don't talk about it. Being pregnant is supposed to be such a joyful thing that it's taken for granted. It's supposed to be innocent. Nobody wants that ripped away from them.”

“Nothing will ever be innocent anymore,” he said softly.

All she could do was nod in agreement and grab his hand, giving it a squeeze.

Chapter 30 – Last Resort

He felt a droplet of sweat fall down his forehead, following the path of the stress wrinkles of his skin. Lifting a gloved hand, he wiped it away as it fell into his eye.

“I can't believe she took him there,” he said, lifting his hand and releasing it to left jab punch the red bag in front of him.

The sound of his gloved fist connecting with the firm bag made her jump.

“You shouldn't be surprised,” Mackenzie said, leaning against the wall. “They're married, Marc. He cares about her. When he married her, he became one with her, and that includes this. That's just how Lance is.”

“He's not April's father,” he said, punching the bag again. “He has no business visiting her grave.”

“We're talking about a man that would take in every stray dog or cat that he found if he could,” she said. “He's got a big heart. That's probably what attracted her to him.”

After one last hard punch to the bag, he stopped to look up at her.

“Don't forget whose side you're on,” he said, pointing at her.

She narrowed her eyebrows as she watched him go back to punching the bag, taking out his frustrations. She had watched him spiral for almost two years now; it was getting worse than ever before. She knew about the drinking, the drugs, and the hallucinations he was having.

“I'm not on any side, Marc,” she said. “I don't care what they do with their life. I've moved on from Lance, and he's moved on from me. They've moved on from you. You're the only one here who has any kind of grudge at all. When will you finally move on? When will you let this go?”

He watched her open the glass door of the hotel's gym and exit. He could tell she was frustrated with him. He turned back to his workout, increasing the impact of his punches on the bag.

He couldn't let it go. There was something inside of him that prevented him from letting it go. She couldn't understand because she wasn't hurt by it. Not like he was.

He knew the history; he had done his research. Mackenzie had left Lance first, almost four years ago. And that's where he had met her – in Germany. He had been on another month-long stint of filming. She had been on his set, visiting a friend.

In hindsight, it was a mistake. That was the point that he and Adeline had been trying to start a family. He was trying to turn over a new leaf and change his ways. His infidelity had gone on a lot longer than that; but knowing he was about to have a son or daughter, he wanted to raise his child in a good environment – better than what he had grown up in, with a cheating drunk of a father.

But there was something about Mackenzie that he couldn't resist at the time.

It was over as quickly as it began; even though they kept touch, he didn't keep her as a woman “on the side” like he had a lot of women – he kept her tucked in his pocket, as more of a business acquaintance. He assumed one day she would come in handy.

That day had come a little over a year later, the night he received the first picture proof that Addy was having an affair with her newest client – Lance Bass.

He knew the name. The guy was a nobody – did nothing spectacular in the movie industry, his greatest accomplishment being that “boy band” of his. The thought made Marc sick. He had seen where it was going from the moment that he'd seen the pictures of them playing in the golf tournament – sparks were visible from the pictures. He saw it in Addy's eyes, even though she had no idea that the camera was there.

That's why he had sent the warning. He thought wrecking the guy's car would be enough to warn him that he was approaching already claimed territory and that he needed to back off – but then they had gone back to her apartment together. Then for a night out on the town, to a club. And then, they kissed.

It didn't take a rocket scientist to see how things progressed from there – especially when you had a private investigator following them full-time. He knew she hadn't left his apartment the night of Halloween; he saw that she left in the same clothes she came in. And he saw how it didn't end there – how she spent more nights at his apartment than she did at her own.

He never thought she would betray him like that – especially after everything they had been through that year.

And when she came home for Thanksgiving – that's when he realized it was falling apart. She was being taken away from him, and he had little hope of getting her back.

He knew people; people who were all too willing to break into the guy's apartment. They had fun destroying it – breaking picture frames, pulling things out of drawers, even redecorating with toilet paper. The thought of that made him chuckle, even if at the time he had thought it was a bit childish and low-rent for him. Lance had made it too easy – who kept a spare key outside the door anymore? The intent had been to send the message...stay away.

It angered him when he didn't get the message. He didn't stay away.

Then he had proposed to her.

The red punching bag flew up several feet in its place and he placed his hands up to his chest to stop it before it flew back and hit him. And that's when he tore his gloves off his sweaty hands, throwing them down to the floor.

“Damn it!”

He fell to the wooden bench against the wall, throwing his face into his hands. He was covered in sweat from head to toe; he hadn't realized how hard he had started working as he let his thoughts get carried away. The angrier he got, the harder he punched.

And that thought made him angry. Hearing that he'd asked her to marry him. It had been little consolation that she hadn't accepted – until two weeks later.

That had been when the plan formed to tear them apart once and for all. But he couldn't do it alone; he had to call in reinforcements.

He knew Mackenzie would come in handy one day.

It couldn't have been any more perfect; it was as if the heavens themselves had decided to shine down on him, sending Lance's ex-fiancee his way, like kismet. It made it even more perfect that he had something she wanted.

He was famous enough that he could get her good work on his word alone – and for an actress whose once flourishing career was starting to drown, he was as valuable as a gold mine. She needed the money; with a sick mother and medical bills piling up by the millions of dollars, her bank accounts were quickly starting to diminish into piles of ashes and dust.

He had money; it was a drop in the bucket to him, with all the success he had. And she wanted it bad enough that no matter how she felt about Lance, she was willing to do whatever he wanted her to do.

It looked like it would work at first – Mackenzie had timed everything perfectly. He was so pleased. She had snuck into the party and managed to get Lance alone, and luckily Addy had been there at the right moment to see Mackenzie make her move. Addy did exactly what he expected her to – got pissed and left him.

It was only for his own insurance that he told Mackenzie to marry Lance. He thought it would ensure that they never crossed each others paths again. Mackenzie had no feelings for Lance anymore, but put up little fight – she would do anything for her mother.

The one thing he hadn't counted on was Adeline growing a backbone while she was gone.

She had blindsided him when she filed for divorce anyway. He had gotten too confident over the years; she was always a strong individual and if he'd gotten out of his own way long enough to look at the situation, he could have known that she would eventually stop being weak and refuse to put up with his infidelity.

The problem with her having strong feelings towards Lance was that it had been what made her even stronger as a woman. Instead of being a strong woman, now she was a strong woman backed by the love of a man – a man who, even though Marc didn't want to admit it, made her feel important, worthy, and cherished.

Despite the slight setback, all might have gone well – if he hadn't come back into the picture.

But Marc had never been more relieved the day the divorce went through...because he had a new plan. And Lance wouldn't make it out of this one.

Once he had collected his breath and cooled himself off, he threw a black hoodie over the sweaty gray wifebeater, placing the hood over his head and the sunglasses over his eyes. He had to be conspicuous; he was at too great of a risk of being recognized. If only one person recognized him and his suicide alibi fell apart, the whole plan fell apart.

He didn't take his stuff back to his hotel; he carried his duffel bag directly out the doors, making sure he had his key card in his pocket, before ducking out of the public eye and into the black Lexus in the parking lot.

He drove thirty minutes before he found the perfect place – dingy, shady, and dark. The perfect place for them to do business in the dirty, public, cop-ridden streets of New York. He didn't usually do this – it was even too disgusting for him. But his regular haunts – clubs and strip bars – were too risky right now. He hadn't been as careful as he once was and he had come close to being recognized too many times. It was too important of a juncture in the plan to ruin it now. But he needed a release.

He parked and watched for another half hour, for extra security – the last thing he wanted to walk into was some kind of set-up police sting operation, and these days you could never tell the difference. The whole time, his eyes were on the perfect one – long brunette hair all the way down her back that was like an ocean of curls, soft legs that went on for miles, and an innocent schoolgirl look despite the profession.

When he was for certain the coast was clear, he started his car and let it coast up to them before coming to a soft stop in front of her.

“You looking for a good time?” she asked him immediately.

“I'm looking for a great time,” he responded.

“You got money?” she asked.

“I got enough money to go for days,” he said with a smile.

“You got the stamina to go along with that?” she asked, grinning.

“How about we go find out?”

She paused a moment before looking around, ensuring there were no cops around, and walking around the front of his car.

“Right here?” she asked, shutting the door behind her.

“I prefer my privacy,” he said, switching the car into gear. “I know the perfect place.”

“So what did you have in mind?” she asked after a few minutes of driving.

“What do you charge?” he asked.

“Depends on what you want, honey,” she said, shooting him a sideways grin.

“Whatever you feel like,” he said, approaching the old brick building and slowing the car to a halt behind it, next to the fire escape. He put the car into gear and cut the engine. “I have only one request.”

“What's that?”

“I want to call you Addy.”

He expected her to be surprised; instead she only smiled. “Honey, for what you're paying me, you can call me the Pope for all I care.”

She was the first to exit the car, jumping out with zest. He opened his own car door a bit slower, adjusting his sunglasses as she stood in front of him and he shut it.

“In the alley?” she asked.

“I like a little bit of exhibitionism, too,” he said with a smile.

“Sounds like fun,” she said.

She turned away from him and started walking toward the alley, swaying in her tight skirt and black heels.

“Yeah.”

He reached into the pocket of his hoodie, feeling for the cold metal against his skin. He pulled it out and in one swift move, retracted the sharp knife of the switchblade – the smile disappearing from his face, being replaced by a sadistic scowl.

“We're gonna have a lot of fun...Addy,” he said, following her towards the darkness of the alley.

Chapter 31 – Monster

Two and a half months later

“There was another one.”

Lance turned from the box he was unpacking next to the bookshelf to look at Addy sitting on the couch.

“Another what?” he asked.

“They found another girl dead,” she said, the newspaper open in front of her. “This makes the third in two months.”

“Another prostitute?” he asked.

“Gutted – just like the last two.”

“Why are you reading that?” he asked. “It's only going to stress you out.”

“Life stresses me out, Lance,” she said, giving him a sideways glance. “Don't forget who you're talking to. What am I going to do, hide in a bubble to avoid stress?”

He nodded slightly in agreement.

“She was found in the alley again,” she said, reading from the paper. “It sounds like he ripped her apart. What kind of sick person does this?”

“New York serial killers, that's who.”

“If I were a prostitute, I'd be seriously considering a career change right about now,” she said.

“Well then, aren't you glad you aren't a hooker?” he asked with a slight smile.

She closed the newspaper and sat it next to her. She placed one hand against the arm of the plush leather couch and the other against the middle-most cushion, attempting to give herself leverage to sit up – but it still didn't work. Gravity was her enemy these days.

“Lance?”

He turned around from the box he was unpacking to look at her.

“Help me?” she asked with moan and a pout, sounding pathetic, her arm stretched out towards him.

He laughed and put down the books he was unpacking, walking over to her. He grabbed her outstretched hand, gently leading her up off the couch.

“Can it be next month already?” she asked as she came to rest on her feet, finding her balance.

“You don't want to rush it,” he said, his hand lingering in hers in case. “Won't you miss it when it's over?”

“I'll miss everything but feeling like an overstuffed enchilada,” she replied, resting her hand on her sore back.

It had been two and a half months of pure bliss. All had been quiet for them – strangely quiet, in fact.

She was a week away from being 32 weeks. On one hand, there were times she was so miserable that she felt like it might stretch on forever. On the other, she was grateful to be this miserable, and this pregnant – she never thought she would reach this point. Only a few months ago, when they had both felt the baby kick for the first time, they had both been nervous wrecks. They both agreed that they would be nervous wrecks until they were holding their baby in their arms – but these days, they were slightly more relaxed.

Lance had even relaxed enough to convince her that it was okay to move forward a bit – starting with buying a house. At that point she had been far too tired to go out house-hunting with him, but she handed over all house-hunting duties to him, albeit a bit reluctantly, because she trusted his judgment. She was surprised when, less than two months later, she found out that he had closed on a beautiful four-bedroom, two-bath house outside the hustle and bustle of the Brooklyn streets. He had them packed within a couple weeks, ready to move in.

It hadn't been long after that until he was able to convince her that it was okay to actually prepare for the baby. She was reluctant to buy any furniture at first, but after her last appointment had gone well with good news – that their son looked great and was even larger than expected – she had broken down. They had started small with a crib and changing table, but she wasn't so hesitant to expand now.

And she had to admit – it was adorable watching him and Chris pull out tools and attempt to put the furniture together. Cursing, a couple of minor injuries, and plenty of goofing around had ensued, of course...along with a couple of raised eyebrows and stifled giggles on her and Mel's end as they sat back and watched.

Somehow, in some way that had escaped even her, they had managed – and both pieces now rested in their own places in the nursery...the one that he had painted a week ago, much to her surprise. They had briefly discussed it a while back, and vaguely agreed that they wanted to go against the norm and avoid a completely blue room. Green and yellow had been thrown around – but it was still a shock to walk into the room to see the walls painted a light green with bright, sunny yellow trim.

For once, she was starting to have hope.

It had helped that the notes had stopped. Out of nowhere, they had up and disappeared. She hadn't opened her door or her mail to find one in months. Not only had the notes stopped, but all the other harassment as well – they hadn't received a phone call or voicemail, either at home or at the station, in at least two months.

She still looked over her shoulder twice and double-locked her doors – but she was starting to feel that maybe it was close to being over.

“I'm thinking of converting the basement to a studio,” he said, turning away from the box to look at her. “What do you think?”

“Like a studio for your show?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “I've even come up with a cool name for it – the Bass-ment.”

“The Bass-ment,” she said, a grin turning up the corners of her mouth. “That's...clever, honey.”

“Hey, do you have anything better?” he said, lifting an eyebrow. “I'm dying to hear.”

“The Bass-ment it is,” she said, covering her smile.

“Mmm-hmm, I thought so,” he said. “Anyway, that way I can do the show here from home. Sirius said it would be fine and they would help with the conversion. The crew would come here to do the show. It would be like at the station, but I could always be here with you and Liam.”

“You don't have to do that,” she said. “I'm sure we can manage fine for a couple of hours a day while you're at work.”

“I'd still be working,” he said, “but at least I'd be here. I want to be here with you two. Anyway, they're going to start the conversion next week, because I want it done before Liam gets here.”

She smiled. Despite her hesitance, they had even settled on a name – Liam Aiden.

“Do we have time to do it all?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Well...look,” she said, letting her eyes travel over the nearly empty house. Standing in the living room, she could see into the kitchen on her left and to her right, the open bar area. “The walls need a fresh coat of paint, the place needs cleaned, new drapes, floors polished, Liam's room isn't done...there's no way I can get all this done in time.”

“There's no way you're lifting a finger,” he responded, and she rolled her eyes. “I'll have a cleaning crew come in a couple of days. Then I can take care of a painting crew too, or I can bribe Chris and Joey with pizza and beer and we can get it done in a couple of days.”

“Yeah, that's a good idea,” she said sarcastically. “The objective is to paint the walls, not each other.”

“We're not eight,” he responded. “Chris is at least fifteen mentally. Joey...maybe twenty. Besides, bribe them with pizza and beer and they're actually pretty good at getting the work done. I'll finish Liam's room over the next month and the rest we can take on as it becomes a priority.”

She ran her finger over the bar, cringing as she saw the dust that had collected on her finger.

“I don't know about you, but I'm done unpacking for the day,” he said, breaking down the now-empty box he had finished going through. “I've got the show to do in a couple of hours. Want to go grab some lunch before I take you back to the apartment?”

“Yeah, I'm starving,” she responded.

She grabbed her purse and waited by the door as he went through the house, making sure all the lights and appliances were off. She walked out onto the porch as he hung by the door, mentally checking everything again and preparing to lock up the house again for another day. She leaned her head against one of the posts on the railing – and that was when she saw it out of the corner of her eye.

The blonde walking down the street made her stop in her tracks.

“So what do you want for l--” He stopped next to her as he turned to her, seeing her surprised expression. “Ad, what's wrong?”

She couldn't answer him, she could only stare as the figure walked closer to them, leading the dog in front of her. It was enough to lead his eyes to the sidewalk.

“No way,” he said when he saw her. “Mackenzie?”

At the mention of her name, loud enough that she could hear, her head popped up from her brisk walk.

“Lance!” she said, a smile immediately coming to her face.

As the two of them approached each other up the walkway to the house, Adeline could only watch and look on – a strange fear finding its way to her heart.

Despite it, she carefully walked down the porch steps, coming up to step next to him.

“Small world,” he said. “Of all the places to run into you.”

“I know, right?” Mackenzie responded. “I'm actually renting a place down the street for a few months while I'm still in the city. Hey, Addy, it's so good to see you.”

“Yeah,” Addy responded hesitantly. “You too.”

“Wow,” Mackenzie said, looking her up and down. “You got...pregnant.” She chuckled. “I mean, I heard, but I haven't seen you guys for so long. I didn't know whether it was a rumor or the truth.”

“Truth, obviously,” Lance responded. “You look good, Kenz.”

“So do you, Lance,” she said. “Marriage agrees with you. Keep him on a tight leash, Ad. This one can be a bit of a troublemaker.”

Addy tried to force an amused smile.

“Hey now,” Lance said, smiling. He looked down at the dog. “The only one that needs to be kept on a leash is this guy. I didn't know you got a dog.”

He knelt down to the dog's height, the cocker spaniel coming immediately to him for scratches.

“Girl, actually,” she said. “I'm dog-sitting Lady here, for a friend of mine.”

“Lady? From Lady and the Tramp?” he asked as he scratched behind the dog's furry ears.

“Yep, just like her.”

“Hi, Lady, hey girl...”

As Lance showered the dog with affection and attention, Addy stood uncomfortably next to him. Mackenzie looked up at her.

“I was so happy to hear about your pregnancy,” she said. “I was hoping it was true – for you guys.”

“Thanks,” Addy said, trying to be polite.

“Is it a boy or girl?”

“We're having a boy,” Addy responded.

“Well, congratulations.”

Addy nodded silently as the dog pulled away from Lance, slightly pulling on the leash.

“I'd better get her back home,” Mackenzie said. “She always walks me more than I walk her. I guess I'll see you guys around the neighborhood, then, since it looks like you're moving in?”

“Yeah, we're working on it,” Lance responded, leaning up to a standing position.

“Well, it was good to see you guys,” she said. “We'll have to get together sometime – for a drink or something.”

“We'd like that,” Lance said. “Right, Ad?”

She turned her head slightly to look at him, slightly nodding.

“We'll let you know when we get settled in more,” Lance said, turning back toward Mackenzie.

“Sounds good,” she said. “Bye guys.”

The two of them watched her walk back down the walkway and turn to walk back the opposite way down the sidewalk, the dog leading her quickly.

“What a coincidence,” Lance said once she was across the street and out of earshot.

“Yeah,” Addy said, hanging back as he started walking toward the car in the driveway. “Maybe a bit too much of a coincidence.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He watched them climb into the car from his position a couple of blocks away, the binoculars held closely to his eyes. He didn't even notice Mackenzie approaching the car until he heard the door open.

“This damn dog,” she said, helping the cocker spaniel climb into the back seat. “Did we have to bring it?”

“You said yourself, he can't resist dogs,” he said.

“Yeah, I didn't mean 'he can't resist dogs, so let's go out and borrow one',” she said.

He watched Lance buckle his seat belt and start to pull out of the driveway as Mackenzie climbed in next to him in the passenger seat, closing the door behind her.

“Did they buy it?” he asked as he turned the key to start the ignition.

“That I happen to be renting a house in the same neighborhood that they're moving into?” she asked. “He did, but I'm not sure about her. I don't think she trusts me.”

“Would you trust you?” he asked as he pulled out, briefly stopping at the stop sign to turn and follow them.

“Knowing what I know, of course not,” she said.

The ride was a quiet one. She slunk down into her seat as she was used to, in case Addy got curious and tried to look back in her mirror as Marc feared. Occasionally, she would glance back at the dog, to see it laying down in the back seat, its head resting on its front paws. She only hoped Marc didn't intend to do what she thought he could do, what he was capable of – her friend would kill her if she came back from Cabo and Lady wasn't in one piece.

He parallel-parked the car only a few feet away as they stopped at a diner across the street. When he threw the hood over his head, she placed the sunglasses over her eyes. It was routine now. The last thing she wanted to do was piss him off.

“It's you, isn't it?” she asked as she watched him look through the binoculars at the two of them as they went into the diner.

“What's me?” he asked.

“The East Village Killer,” she said. “The one who's killing all those girls?”

“And what makes you think that?” he asked.

“Because I saw you,” she whispered.

It was only then that he took the binoculars away from his eyes, to turn and look at her.

“You've been following me now?” he asked.

“I'm worried about you, Marc,” she said. “I know about the drinking...the drugs...the hallucinations. I...I care about you.”

She could barely keep the tears from rolling down her cheeks as he looked her in the eyes. The truth was, she didn't just care for him – over the past two and a half years, she had fallen in love with him.

She flinched at the touch when he brought his hand up to her cheek, brushing his thumb against the apple of her cheek.

“Oh Kenzie,” he said softly.

In an instant, his expression turned from soft to wicked, and she grimaced in pain when he grabbed a chunk of her hair and pulled down.

“Don't go getting soft on me,” he whispered as he leaned over to her.

He was a monster – but he didn't start out that way. He was a monster created from his own personal demons. But she realized now that it was like being friends with the monster under your bed – you would never really be safe.

Chapter 32 – Just Got Wicked

“You can't be serious.”

Chris looked up to meet Mel's gaze, surprised when she looked dumbfounded.

“What?” he asked.

“You can't expect to feed eight people – ten if Justin and JC bring dates, and eleven if Stephanie comes – with an eight pound turkey, Chris,” she said.

“That's like a pound a person!” he said.

“Joey alone can eight eight pounds of food,” she said, tapping her pen on the notepad in her hands. “And have you seen Justin put it away? It's like feeding a teenager. Sometimes I don't think he ever finished puberty.”

“No arguments there,” Chris said. “And sorry. You're the chef here, not me. You asked for my help and I'm trying to give it.”

“Fifteen pounds, at least,” she said. “I can make some turkey concoction with the leftovers if we have any. And actually write it on the list so you don't forget.”

As she stood up from the couch and turned to walk away from him, he scrunched his nose up and moved his lips to mock her. He still couldn't escape the smile from showing up on his face as he wrote it down on his list.

“Don't forget potatoes,” she instructed. “And rolls. And bread and sage for the stuffing. You'll have to get stuff for the cranberry sauce. Oh, and I need the ingredients for my apple pie, too. Chris, are you listening to me at all?”

“Why are we cooking the food if we're having the Thanksgiving dinner at Addy and Lance's new house?” he asked, throwing the pen and notepad down on the coffee table in front of him. “I think we're getting swindled here, Weston.”

“We're cooking because you know Addy is too pregnant to do all this work – and neither of us trusts Lance to not give us all E coli or something.”

“That is a good point,” Chris said.

“Besides, I'm the chef,” Melissa said, pouring herself another glass of wine. “And we're having it at Addy and Lance's new house because there's no way we can fit eight people inside our apartments. Lance said that the cleaning crew he hired did a fantastic job. They're excited to show it off. Can't you just be happy for them, sour puss?”

“I'm not a sour puss,” he said. “And I am happy for them, thank you. It's just...well, maybe I had other plans for Thanksgiving than standing in the kitchen over a hot stove all day while Addy fidgets around worrying that everything isn't going to be perfect.”

“Like what?” she asked, turning to him with a smile on her face. “Staying in your boxers all day, watching the Thanksgiving parade, drinking a couple beers, exercising your finger to switch the TV over to the football game, and passing out before the end of the third quarter to drool on the throw pillow?”

“That sounds heavenly, but no,” he said. “Actually, I was...going to ask you to come to Pennsylvania with me on Thanksgiving.”

She almost choked on the drink of wine she was taking, instead spitting it out in front of her.

“Well our carpet was off-white,” he said.

“You were going to ask me to do what?” she asked. “Are you insane?”

“People say that I am, but I think I'm relatively normal,” he said.

“Compared to insane asylum patients,” she said, wiping the wine from around her mouth. “I can't go to Pennsylvania with you, Chris.”

“Why not?” he asked. “You're not going home to Arkansas. You're off school for the holiday, you don't have a job anymore...”

“Thanks for reminding me,” she said.

“We're having Thanksgiving with the group a couple of days before the holiday, and Addy and Lance will be busy with his parents on Thanksgiving weekend when they come in from Mississippi. Did you have big plans to watch some romantic comedy marathon in your pajamas and top off the fifteen pound turkey with a gallon of ice cream?”

“That's exactly what I planned to do, thank you,” she said. “Myself and Patrick Swayze have a pretty hot date that night.”

“My mom loves Patrick Swayze, it can be a double date,” he said.

“Your mom?” she said, her voice raising.

“Come on Mel,” he said. “I'm not asking for your hand in marriage here.”

“No, it's worse than that,” she said.

“Duly noted,” he said with a smile, slinking towards her to wrap his arms around her waist. “For the future.”

“You can't do this to me, Kirkpatrick,” she said, feeling the smile turn up the corners of her mouth.

“Do what? Do this?”

He leaned in to her, capturing her lips in a kiss. He lingered a few moments before releasing her.

“Yeah, that,” she said, savoring the feel of his soft lips against hers. “I don't understand us.”

“Understand what?” he asked.

“Understand this – you and me. What are we, Chris?”

“You mean, like, are we...?”

“Together, yes,” she said, walking away from his grasp. “Together, friends, friends with a benefits package...I'm confused.”

“I guess I assumed since we sleep in the same bed, we were...together,” he said. “Am I wrong?”

“No...yes...I don't know, Chris,” she said. “To tell you the truth...I like how we are now, living here with you, eating dinner every night with someone, cuddling on the couch when we watch TV, having you next to me in bed, but...I don't think I'm ready for a real relationship.”

“Isn't this a real relationship, though?” he asked, placing his hands in his jean pockets. “What else is there in a marriage – or a relationship, period? Look at Ad and Lance. They're probably the most boring couple we know, they definitely don't go out swing dancing every night – and they're happy.”

“They're happy now,” she said.

“You don't think they'll always be happy?” he asked.

“Things happen,” she said. “You fight, you cheat, you fall out of love...people change.”

“Mel,” he said, walking towards her. “I don't know what happened to you in your last relationship with whoever it was you were with. It's none of my business, especially if you don't want to tell me. But I want you to know...how I feel for you will never change.”

“You can't promise that,” she whispered as he wrapped his arms around her, facing her back.

“I can't promise that we'll work out, or we'll always be together, or that we won't disappoint each other sometimes, or that we'll never fight,” he said. “You're right, people do that. What people don't do is fall out of love. Once you fall in love with someone, I mean really fall in love with someone, you can't fall out. People who say they fell out of love with someone...were never really in love to begin with.”

She leaned into his body, lacing her fingers through his as he ran his hands down her arms and into her hands. She listened to his breathing against her ear for several moments, letting it calm her nerves.

It was one of the first times she could remember feeling safe in someone's arms.

“I'll go to Pennsylvania with you,” she said softly. “On the condition that I'm not introduced as your girlfriend, and this is nothing serious.”

“Of course it's nothing serious,” he said. “A little dinner with my family. Some turkey, some potatoes, stuffing, my mom's homemade pecan pie...nothing big.”

She smiled as he leaned in to kiss her neck.

“Don't you have a gig to go to?” she asked.

“A gig?” He looked at the clock on the wall. “Oh shit! The gig in Red Hook!”

All worries forgotten, she laughed as he rushed away from her and into his music room, grabbing his guitar and equipment, dropping sheet music and cords along the way.

“Did you forget?” she asked.

“With ten minutes to spare, I can make it!”

She couldn't stop laughing as he sat his guitar and equipment in front of the door, grabbing his coat and keys off the table and walked over to the door. He stopped with his hand on the knob.

“Forgetting something?” she asked.

“Yeah, I am.”

She watched as he calmly walked over to her, smiling when he wrapped his arms around her and leaned in to give her a kiss.

“I love you,” he said.

She only smiled. “Nine minutes, Chris – go!”

She laughed as he rushed away from her and out the door, mumbling off a hurried goodbye as he struggled with his equipment.

“I love you, too,” she said after he had closed the door.

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Sneaking – that was what was key. Being stealth was something he'd had to get used to over the past couple of years. Despite knowing the ins and outs of the horror and suspense movie industry, Marc had found out it wasn't as easy as the movies made it look. Every opportunity presented a new way to get caught.

The security guard in Lance's apartment building, for example – everything would have gone exactly as planned, if he had accounted for an extra security guard being around that night. His surveillance wasn't just for “stalking” as they called it – it was research. And in all his research, he had never seen more than one security guard roaming the building past eight at night.

So that's what he had planned for. It was a surprise when the guard saw him passing the door and walking to the elevator – and recognized him by face.

It was even more of a surprise when he realized that Marc was there to see Addy and they'd gotten into a scuffle in the empty lobby. Eventually, it led to the security office. And that was where he had shot him.

He was bound not to make a mistake like that again.

He carefully opened the door of the service elevator on the fourth floor, making sure to move slowly in case of creaks and noises. When he had a crack big enough to fit his body through, he leaned to his side and slipped out, immediately putting his back up against the wall. He peeked around the corner, keeping an eye out for straggling tenants roaming the hallway, and when he was satisfied there were none, he smiled to himself.

He slipped the black knit ski mask over his face, moving the holes for the eyes and nose over their intended spaces. It wasn't cold enough on this early November night to comfortably wear one, but he couldn't risk her waking up and seeing him.

He had been outside, waiting and watching for hours. He had seen the one with the black hair leave – Chris, he thought – in a rushed hurry carrying a guitar and other various items. Then it was only waiting to watch for the lights in the apartment to go out, signaling that she had gone to bed.

He casually but quietly walked down the carpeted floor of the hallway toward the apartment, keeping his ears fine-tuned for tenants opening their doors, the sounds of a potentially moving elevator, and quiet footsteps.

Not only had his stealth skills improved, but his hearing had too. He could hear a pin drop from a mile away by this point.

He walked up to their door and reaching into his pocket, grabbed the bobby pin, brandishing it in his gloved hand. Keys had become too hard to come by, ever since Addy had wised up and found a new hiding place for spare keys. And it was impossible to have spare keys for everyone's apartment. He'd had to resort to learning how to pick locks. A couple hours on YouTube, a package of plain bobby pins, and practicing on a purchased doorknob was all it took.

A couple quiet minutes and only one useless bobby pin later, he heard the mechanism on their door click. He slowly and quietly turned the doorknob, glancing briefly behind him to make sure that no one had appeared in the hallway without his notice, and slipped inside.

He was surprised they didn't have a deadbolt – like Addy. He thought it was cute how she thought that could keep him out. He'd gotten good at that, too.

It was colder in Chris's apartment than he had accounted for. The coolness of the central air penetrated through his black shirt and slacks right away, and for a brief moment he shivered. He quickly recovered himself as he shut the door silently – he had no time to mess around with things like body temperature.

He was on a mission. No matter how many notes he sent, how many phone calls he made, they refused to take him seriously. So he would make them.

He didn't want to hurt her. He'd made sure to keep his anger in check tonight, in preparation for this. She wasn't who he wanted.

He glanced around the apartment only a moment, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness before walking down the unlit hallway. He passed the music room and the bathroom, eventually finding his way to the exact room he was looking for – the bedroom.

He saw Melissa's silhouette immediately, laying in bed with one hand rested under her pillow and one in front of her, at the side. The sheets and blankets were pulled up over her body, stretched up over her chest and held in place by her arm. Her breathing was light and even, a peaceful look on her face.

He smiled to himself, stepping out of the doorway, lightening his footsteps for extra protection. As he walked closer to her and more of her facial features became clear to him in the darkness, he could see what Chris saw in her – she was pretty.

He could see himself with her – but she wouldn't go for a monster like himself, especially after he knew Addy had gone around slandering his good name.

“No time to think about that right now, huh Melly?” he whispered quietly, kneeling on his knees in front of her side of the bed, reaching up to gently brush the apple of her cheek with his index finger.

Her muscles flinched at the light touch and he heard her sigh, but he didn't move an inch.

“Sweet, innocent Melissa,” he whispered. “Hope you won't miss this too much.”

In one swift move, he lifted himself to a standing position using his lower legs, and stood over her a few minutes before reaching down behind her neck. He pushed her hair away from her neck and it didn't take a long search to feel it, even with the gloves on.

Trying to brush her skin as little as possible, he quickly undid the clasp on the gold chain, slipping it off her neck in time for her to shift to lie on her back, with her head turned facing away from him.

“Thanks Melly-girl,” he whispered to her in the darkness, slipping the necklace into his pocket. “My Addy will really love this one.”

Chapter 33 – Stupid Girl

The next day

“You really don't think this color is too bright?”

Adeline looked up from her place on the floor, folding the many blankets she had in front of her.

“No,” she said, looking at the wall of the nursery that Lance insisted needed a third coat of paint. “I think it's perfect.”

She smiled as she watched him cock his head to the side and stare at the wall in front of him intently for a few moments, tapping his finger against his lip.

“How long is your fidgeting phase going to last?” she asked him, smoothing a the blanket folded across her arm. “I'm supposed to be the one nesting, not you.”

“I don't want to blind the baby if the color is too bright,” he said, dipping the roller back into the pan. “I didn't know that being prepared was 'fidgeting'.”

She smiled again and shook her head. His form of “being prepared” was what she called fidgeting – he had spent every morning until just after lunch here at the new house, unpacking or working on anything he could find that needed done. But by now, it had become less of a casual, moving-into-a-new-home thing, and more of a panicked, get-ready-for-baby thing.

She could tell he was nervous. As each week passed and her due date came closer, it became more of a reality that they would actually bring home a baby. She hadn't realized that until just a few weeks before now, she had prepared herself so much for pain and heartbreak, she had never prepared herself for the nerves of the reality of actually having a baby.

“Fidgeting is asking me ten times if the green is too bright, when it clearly hasn't changed color in the half-hour since you last asked,” she said, groaning as she lifted herself up off the floor with the help of a dresser. “Preparing is even thinking about painting the walls before I'm having contractions. You're way ahead of the game here.”

“At least I'm ahead of something,” he said. “I haven't brought over any of the kitchen stuff from the apartment yet, much less moved in the dining room table. Everyone's coming over for Thanksgiving dinner in four days and my family will be here on Thursday morning. I don't know how we'll get this place ready in time.”

“It will all be fine,” she said. “The house is nice and clean thanks to the cleaning crew you hired, you'll get the table moved in and if you move the kitchen stuff over I can unpack a little at a time. Mel's a culinary genius, she could make a three-course meal out of table scraps. I'm sure you're worrying for nothing.”

“Since when have the tables turned so much that you're telling me that I'm worrying for nothing?” he asked, turning to her with a smile on his face.

“Full moon, Freaky Friday...who knows?” she said, returning the smile.

Just then, they both heard the doorbell ring.

“I'll get that,” she said. “You keep painting, Mr. Fidget.”

He narrowed his eyes and scowled at her as she walked out of the room chuckling, heading toward the front door.

She hated moving slower than normal these days, especially moving up and down the stairs, due to the extra weight. When she finally reached the door, she put her hand on the knob and turned it, immediately taken by surprise at who she saw standing behind it.

“Mackenzie,” she said.

“Hey...Addy,” Mackenzie said. “I'm sorry, is this a bad time?”

“Uh...no,” Addy said, shaking her shock off. “We were just doing some things to get the house ready.”

“Ad, who is it?” Lance yelled from upstairs.

“It's Mackenzie,” she yelled back.

The two women stood in front of each for a few moments, both unsure of what to say, when they heard Lance's footsteps reach the top of the stairs.

“Kenz,” he said, stopping for a moment before he started walking down the spiral staircase, his t-shirt and jeans covered in green paint. “Hey.”

“Hey, Lance,” she responded. “I'm sorry if I caught you guys at a bad time or something.”

“No, you're fine, we were just up in the baby's room doing some work.”

Adeline stood frozen as Lance walked up next to her to greet Mackenzie.

“You want to come in?” he asked. “We don't have a coffee machine yet to make coffee but I'm sure Ad can get you something else – right Addy?”

She turned to see Lance looking at her, and suddenly she realized she had been so shell-shocked to see Mackenzie at the door again that she had forgotten her basic manners.

“Yeah,” she said. “Absolutely. Come inside.”

“No coffee, no drink, I really can't stay very long,” Mackenzie said, stepping in and out of the way for Addy to close the door behind her. “I just wanted to stop by because I think I got some of your mail this afternoon.”

Adeline watched intently as Mackenzie handed the yellow envelope to Lance, not even having noticed it before.

“Addy, it's for you,” he said, looking over the front.

“It was just sitting on my porch near the door,” Mackenzie said, looking at Adeline as Lance handed the envelope over to her. “There's no address or anything on it, but I knew it had to be yours. Funny that it ended up at my house.”

Yeah, funny, Adeline thought at she stared at the envelope in her hand. Deep down, she knew it was a lie, and deep down she knew who it was from. It had been too long without contact, and she knew there was no chance that their stalker had given up, gotten bored and dropped off the face of the planet. And she still didn't trust Mackenzie.

Not that she could tell Lance that, because she knew he would only defend her. She had no doubt that he was faithful to her, loved her, and had no residual romantic feelings for his ex-girlfriend – but he didn't want to seem to believe that she was the type of person to commit this kind of crime. She had long given up by now.

She only paused a moment before ripping into the top of the envelope, struggling to break through the tough fibers of the paper and the bubble wrap inside. She reached inside and almost felt nothing – until she touched something cold and delicate. Putting her fingers around it and pulling it out, she was surprised to find a tiny chain necklace.

“Should I be concerned?” Lance asked, a tiny smile on his face. “Do you have a secret admirer?”

“It's Melissa's,” Addy responded, fingering the silver medallion charm, feeling the familiar texture of the St. Christopher necklace that Chris had given her not long ago, in the hopes that it would make her feel more protected.

“It's what?” Lance asked, grabbing for the pendant from her hands. “Why would Mel put her necklace in an envelope, put your name on it, and leave it on Kenzie's front porch?”

“She wouldn't,” Addy responded. “Lance, it's happening again.”

Both of them were silent for a moment.

“How...how would he have gotten this?” Lance finally said.

“Only one way that I know of,” Addy said. “Mel never takes it off, not even to shower or sleep.”

Lance looked up to see Addy looking at him.

“They were in Chris's apartment,” she said.

“No...”

Addy looked up when she heard Mackenzie whisper.

“What?” she asked. “Did you see who left it?”

“No,” Mackenzie said, and Addy noticed she looked up and was slightly more nervous than she had been before. “No, I didn't see who left it. It was just...there. On my porch. Like I said.”

“Kenz, if you know something, please tell us,” Lance said. “Police have been trying to catch this person for months. They have nothing. Anything will help.”

“Like I said, I don't know anything,” she said. “I have to go guys, I'm sorry.”

Addy and Lance both looked on in surprise when Mackenzie exited the door quickly, wringing her hands in nervousness.

“That was weird,” Lance said after she had left.

“Not weird to me,” Addy responded. “Lance, she's the one.”

“What do you mean 'the one'?” he asked.

“She's the one doing it. I know it. This is proof.”

“This is proof of nothing, Addy,” he said. “The only thing that this proves is that Chris needs to install better locks on his door.”

“You think locks are going to stop her?” Addy asked, pointing at the closed door. “God, Lance, how can you be so blind to this? You think it's a coincidence that it just happened to show up on her doorstep? Please, I don't believe it for a second.”

“Do you still think it's a coincidence that you're psychotic ex-husband went missing when all this started happening?” he asked. “He had you stalked once before. The guy is a psycho, Addy.”

“The guy is dead, Lance!” she yelled.

She walked as quickly as she could away from him, moving into the kitchen. It had taken her a while to come to terms with the fact that her ex-husband had killed himself – and he wasn't helping with his insistence that Marc was alive and well.

She was leaning against the island counter when she heard him walk in behind her.

“A dramatic exit doesn't quite work when you're eight months pregnant,” she said.

“I don't know, I got the message loud and clear,” he said.

“I know Marc,” she said. “A lot better than you. He's always been so immersed in Hollywood that everything is a production – life and death included. Life is a big Broadway play and he's the lead character – the spotlight has to be on him all the way up until the end. He would blame you and me...we're the ones who ruined his life. We're the ones who essentially took his life.”

“It's just too much of a coincidence, Ad,” Lance said.

“It's not a coincidence that in a city of eight million people, she's the one who ends up being practically our next-door neighbor?”

“She's just renting a house, Addy,” Lance said. “Knowing Mackenzie, six months and she'll be gone – Paris, Abu Dhabi, Cairo...wherever fame calls her, she'll make an appearance.”

“Funny how fame hasn't seemed to call to her in the past eight months since all of this started, isn't it?” she asked.

“What do you want me to do?” he asked, throwing his hands up. “Ask her? 'Mackenzie, are you the crazy person stalking us?' How well do you think that will go over? Do you think she would even tell me if she was?”

“Go to Abrams,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I've gone to Abrams,” he said, sound exasperated. “He's checked her out. He says she's clean. There's no unusual activity on her credit cards or her bank accounts, nothing to even assume she's a suspect.”

“So you're just going to do nothing?”

“What do you want me to do?” he asked. “Put a sign on the lawn and sell the house because my ex-girlfriend lives a block away from us?”

She pursed her lips and looked away, but her silence said enough.

“That's crazy, Addy. I'm not going to give up this house so you don't have to live a block away from my ex-girlfriend for a few months,” he said. “I've got more work to do on Liam's room. Let me know when you've given up the jealous high school girlfriend act and you're thinking like my wife again.”

Her jaw dropped as he turned to exit the doorway, and she did the first thing she thought to do – pick up an empty red plastic cup from the counter, leaning her arm back and throwing it at him.

“How's that for high school?” she yelled as the cup missed him and she watched him disappear.

“Hormones, Jesus!” he yelled back.

“Jerk!”

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“You broke into their apartment?!”

Marc was stunned when he calmly opened the door of his hotel room and was met with an angry Mackenzie, shouting and pushing him back with her hands on his chest.

“What the--”

“You have reached a whole new level of psychotic,” she said, angrily closing the door behind her. “This has gone too far. This is over, Marc. I'm not doing this anymore.”

“You're quitting on me?” he asked, a smile coming to his face.

“Yeah, I've come to my senses,” she said. “Give me the money I've earned so far and then you go out and do what you need to – but I'm done. I'm not going to jail or getting killed because you have a jealous streak and a sick way of getting your rocks off.”

“You've come to your senses, huh?” he said, slowly moving towards her with the smile. “She's come to her...she's come to her senses!”

She backed up, but was taken by surprise when he charged and before she knew it, he had her pinned up against his wall.

“What is your problem?” he growled in her face.

“You,” she growled back, despite her fear of him. “I signed up for torturing Lance and Addy and scaring them a little to get a paycheck to give my mom the best round-the-clock care I can afford. I didn't sign up for killing security guards, scaring people with knives in their doors, breaking into apartments and stealing necklaces off people's bodies, and wearing that stupid wig all the time!”

She looked in his eyes and could tell he wasn't pleased with her.

“This has gone too far,” she said softly.

“I'll tell you when it's gone too far,” he said. “One more week, Mackenzie. After Thanksgiving. One more week, and it will all be over. He'll be out of the picture, I'll get what I want...and you'll get what you need.”

He leaned in further, and she could feel his breath on her face.

“And not a minute sooner,” he said.

Chapter 34 – Control

November 21, 2012 – The day before Thanksgiving

“Ow!”

Lance winced when he felt the hard metal cooking spoon hit the back of his head, turning to see Mel looking at him, holding it in her hand.

“What the hell was that for?” he asked.

“Jealous high school girlfriend, Lance?” she asked. “Really?”

“She was acting ridiculous,” Lance said in defense. The girls had been talking with each other, out loud, about the fight that the two of them had days before, as if he wasn't even in the room helping with their Thanksgiving dinner.

“It's not unreasonable for her to want to move if she's afraid of Mackenzie,” Melissa said. “I for one don't blame her. I don't think I trust Mackenzie either.”

“Thank you,” Addy said forcefully, glancing at Lance sideways.

“That girl got her claws into you once,” Mel said, going back to rolling the dough for the pie on the counter. “I wouldn't put it past her to do it again.”

“Things are different now,” Lance said. “I care about Mackenzie but I don't love her. I told her the day that I broke up with her and went off to Los Angeles that it was over between us, that our time had passed. She's moved on and I've moved on. I'm married now.”

“Not for long if you keep calling your wife a jealous high school girlfriend,” Mel said with a grin.

“I apologize,” he said dramatically. “Addy, I shouldn't have called you a jealous high school girlfriend.”

“Apology accepted,” she said.

“I should have called you a jealous college girlfriend.”

Mel stopped Addy's arm when she reached over to the counter to grab a piece of sliced apple, preparing to throw it at him.

“No throwing food yet, kids,” she said, looking between the two of them, noticing Lance's grin. “Let's save the food fight at least until we sit down at the table and have more food to toss.”

Addy scowled and Lance chuckled as Chris came into the room.

“Who's tossing food?” he asked.

“Lance may get creamed if he doesn't watch his smart mouth,” Melissa responded.

“Oh okay, so nothing unusual then,” Chris said, pulling up a chair sitting in the kitchen.

“Mashed potatoes,” Lance said, pointing at Chris. “You're my first target.”

“Aim for my mouth,” Chris said. “Mel's mashed potatoes are to die for.”

Both of the girls rolled their eyes and smiled at each other.

“Addy wants to move already,” Melissa said to Chris. “Lance doesn't. Big fight. Things thrown.”

“Luckily none of our good china is packed and moved – yet,” Lance said.

“I'm personally on Addy's side,” Chris said. “We're changing the locks, installing bars on the windows, and getting the hell out of that apartment as soon as possible.”

“No, we're not,” Melissa said. “We talked about this.”

“Who talked about this?” Justin said as he wandered in. “What are we talking about?”

All of them turned to look at him as he pulled up a chair next to Chris.

“I want to move,” Chris said. “Mel doesn't. Something about the idea of some random person walking in at midnight and wandering into my bedroom and touching my girl just...doesn't appeal to me, you know?”

“Yes, yes, thank you,” Addy said, nodding her head in agreement. “It's creepy and scary and terrifying.”

“Whose girl?” Melissa said, turning around to eye Chris. “I'm not your girl. If somebody wants to wander in and touch me, they can. I'm not your property.”

Lance and Justin smiled at Chris.

“She told you,” Justin said.

“She's thinking crazy,” Chris said. “Damn female independence. She doesn't realize she could get hurt.”

“I realize I could get hurt. I still don't want to move,” she said.

“Sorry Chris, I agree with Mel,” Justin said. “Whoever it is, they still found Addy and Lance, even after they moved. No reason to pick up roots and replant yourself. It's a lot of work in vain.”

“You just don't want to help us pack and move,” Chris said.

“That too,” Justin said.

“Packing up and moving is running away,” Melissa said. “It's insane to pack up everything you own and run away from whatever is chasing you.”

“You did it once, Mel,” Lance said.

Everyone stopped, including Mel. By now, everybody knew that Mel's past was a complete mystery. She had never told anyone anything beyond that she had packed up a few of her belongings and moved from Arkansas as quickly as she could. She never gave them a reason, and all of them knew she preferred to keep it that way. It was one of the things they didn't often talk about, because if it was brought up, the mood changed.

“You need duct tape,” Addy said, looking at Lance.

“Duct tape can't control this,” Lance said. “It's hopeless. Mel, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have--”

“No, Lance has a point,” Justin said. “You have to wonder what was so bad that Mel ran away from back then, if this doesn't scare her enough to pack up and move again.”

Addy looked over at her friend, whose face was stone.

“Justin, shut up,” she said.

“I'm curious,” Justin said. “Sue me, Ad. You're a funny character Mel – a psychotic killer doesn't scare you, even when he's in your apartment touching you, but something scared you so much that you packed up and moved halfway across the United States. What was it?”

“Justin, keep your mouth shut,” Chris said. “You're worse than Lance.”

“It's okay, Chris,” Mel finally said. “He wants to know, then I'll tell him.” She turned to look Justin square in the eyes. “It was my ex-boyfriend.”

“That's it?” Justin asked.

“My abusive ex-boyfriend,” she said.

The room went so quiet that you could have heard a pin drop, and everybody who might have had a hint of a smile on their lips was now stunned.

“His name was Derek. I packed up my things and left because he used to beat me,” Melissa said, crossing her arms across her chest. “Until I was black and blue. One time, I couldn't go to church because my eye was so bruised I couldn't even hide it with makeup.”

Addy felt her jaw drop.

“And then he beat me for that, too, because it was my fault,” she continued. “I shouldn't have pissed him off in the first place. I should have known how to cover it up, because I was so used to doing it by then. He liked to project a certain image of us – in public, we were the perfect couple. Everybody thought we were so cute together, that we should get married and have children together. It was all a lie that he created, because he had to look good.

“Behind closed doors, he had all the control over me. I did everything – work a full-time job, cook every meal, clean up the entire house, do all his laundry, pay all the bills while he spent his money on going out for beers with his friends, or buying new things parts for his truck, or playing poker with his buddies. If a bill didn't get paid and the lights got shut off, I got kicked. If I didn't have the money and he had to pay it out of his own paycheck, I got punched.

“He would tell me I was fat,” Mel said, wiping away tears. “When I would eat anything he deemed 'unhealthy', he would make me exercise. He would use that as a reward – I could only use the computer or watch TV or visit my friends, what few I was allowed to have, if I earned it.”

Addy shook her head in horror as her eyes went to look at Melissa's body. She was relatively tiny; she couldn't weigh more than 130 sopping wet. In fact, Addy was pretty thin herself and she guessed she weighed more than Mel, even pre-pregnancy. There was absolutely no need for her to diet, and no excuse for anybody to call her fat.

“If he did something, I had to do it with him,” she went on. “He made me sit with him when he played video games or watched TV, because he was afraid of me having a life outside of what he knew. I might talk to someone, tell them that our life wasn't this fairy tale that he had fabricated to make us look good. I had to go to my classes and job with him. He would sit while I worked and watch me to make sure I didn't run or try to get away from him.

“One Thanksgiving, our families came for dinner at our house. He got mad and pretended to be sick. He refused to come out of the room. He threw a fit like a little kid. It was humiliating, having to lie to my family and stick up for him. After they left, he accused me of making him look like an idiot. He used to do it in restaurants too, especially if someone else was paying – order an expensive meal and then when it came to the table, suddenly he wasn't hungry and refused to eat.

“Last October, he came home drunk and found me asleep on the couch,” she said. “He got mad for no reason and woke me up by pulling me up by my hair and throwing me against the wall. And then he just beat the living hell out of me. He threw me around the whole room, knocking things off the wall and breaking glass. He made such a commotion that the neighbors heard and called the cops. That's when he got hauled off to jail, after they saw the cuts on my face from the punches and all the places he'd made me bleed. He got convicted of domestic battery and sentenced to two years in prison. The day after the trial, I packed up what could fit in my car and left. I made it as far as New York on the money I had from my last paycheck. I got a job, my apartment, and enrolled in school. And I've never looked back.”

Nobody in the room made a sound as she lifted her head to look at Justin.

“Now you know,” she said, before walking away and out of the kitchen.

Addy watched her friend walk out.

“I should go talk to her,” she said.

“No, Addy, sit,” Chris said, standing up from his chair. “I should talk to her.”

Lance watched him walk out of the room after Mel.

“Holy crap,” he said.

“You just can't keep your mouth shut, can you?” Addy asked, looking at Justin. “You have to continually torture her, don't you?”

“Addy, I swear,” he said, “I didn't mean to. I never expected her to say that.”

“I should call your mother,” Addy said.

“Mama Lynn's gonna beat you, boy,” Lance said, the slightest of smiles on his face.

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It didn't take long for Chris to find where Mel had run off to – he knew it would be the baby's room. It would be the one room that would attract her, because it was probably the most peaceful, the one that would make her the most happy – not to mention the only one that wasn't overrun with boxes that hadn't been unpacked yet.

“Mel?” he said, opening the door to peek in.

“Lance did a good job on the room,” she said, tears freely flowing now. She sat in an old-style rocking chair, one that she had convinced Addy to purchase. “I love the color. It's nice and bright.”

“Mel...”

“I don't want to talk about it, Chris,” she said, wiping away a tear. “It's in my past. I ran away from it for a reason. I told Justin because I'm tired of everybody assuming I ran away from something silly.”

“Nobody assumed you ran away from something silly,” he said, entering the door and closing it behind him. “We wanted you to tell us in your own time. I don't think Lance and I thought it went that far...or Addy, either.”

“I love you, Chris,” she said, holding tightly to a yellow stuffed bear. “But I'm scared to fall in love with someone else. I didn't know he was like that when I fell in love with him.”

“Nobody does,” he said, walking over to her. He leaned down on one knee in front of her, grabbing her hand from the bear and holding it in his own. “And there are a lot of things I can't promise you,” he said, referencing their conversation from a few days before, “but there's one thing I absolutely can promise you – I will never treat you like that.”

He paused a few moments, letting her cry while he squeezed her hand to comfort her.

“There's a few open walls downstairs in the basement,” he said once she had calmed. “Lance and I aren't carpenters or anything but I'm fairly certain that if you hold the drywall, we can handle nailing it to the studs if we shove Justin inside. He's full of hot air, he'll make good insulation.”

He smiled when she burst out laughing.

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It was hours later that Chris was sitting at Lance and Addy's dining room table. The girls had cleared the Thanksgiving feast already. Everyone had been stuffed to the gills by the time it was over, and had enjoyed coffee and pie for dessert while Joey's girls played outside in the snow that had started to fall gently that morning.

Everyone had been there – JC, Justin, Joey and Kelly, and of course Chris, Lance, Addy and Mel. They had enjoyed their own Thanksgiving meal privately as a group, before almost everybody had to catch flights to their own home states to spend the holiday with their families. Justin had left a few hours before to catch a flight back home to visit his family in Tennessee – not before apologizing to Mel and giving her a hug, of course – and JC had left before the weather got bad to make the three and a half hour drive to Maryland by car.

Joey and Kelly had left with the girls not long after, and now it was only the four of them left in the house – Addy, Lance, Mel, and Chris. Addy had disappeared somewhere upstairs with Melissa and Chris was enjoying some private time with his own thoughts at the table.

“Hey man, what's up?”

Chris looked up from his notebook to see Lance walking toward him.

“Hey,” he said, looking back down. “I'm stuck. I could use some help.”

Lance walked up to the table and picked the notebook up from in front of Chris's arms. He took a few seconds to read over the handwriting before a smile came to his face.

“Are you writing a song?” Lance asked.

“Sort of,” Chris said, slightly embarrassed by Lance's reaction. “Some things came to mind, I heard a beat, and...you know.”

Lance's eyes scanned the paper again, this time mumbling the words, his lips barely moving.

“This is amazing, Chris,” he finally said. “What do you need help with?”

“Some lines aren't coming to me,” Chris said with a shrug. “Like...”

He reached up and grabbed the notebook from Lance's hands and brought it back down in front of him. Grabbing the pencil, he scanned over the top of the lyrics with the eraser until he found what he was looking for.

“And someone cuts your heart open with a knife, now you're bleeding...after that, I'm stuck. I don't know where to go.”

“I could be that guy to heal it over time, and I won't stop until you believe it, 'cause baby you're worth it,” Lance said.

Chris paused, fitting Lance's lines in with the rest of what he had written, singing it in his head.

“Holy crap, that works,” he said, then looked up. “Speaking from personal experience?”

“Maybe a little bit,” Lance said with a smile.

“You wanna help me write the rest of this?” Chris asked. “I got my guitar here and everything.”

“Let's do it,” Lance said, grinning.

An hour later, both were huddled in front of the coffee table in Lance's living room, one on the couch and one in the recliner. Chris held his guitar in his lap and his pick between his lips in deep thought. The paper in front of them was smeared with pencil lines and eraser shavings.

“You like that?” Lance asked as he looked over at Chris.

Chris removed the pick from his lips with a slight smack.

“Yeah, I like it, let's try it.”

He picked his guitar up and put it into his arm in position to play. Lance lightly tapped out a beat on the paper with the eraser end of the pencil before Chris started to strum seemingly random strings, bringing together a melody to sing to.

“Said all I want from you is to see you tomorrow, and every tomorrow, maybe you'll let me borrow your heart...And is it too much to ask for every Sunday, and while we're at it, throw in every other day to start...”

Lance and Chris gave each other a smile before Lance joined him in the background.

“I know people make promises all the time, then they turn right around and break them...When someone cuts your heart open with a knife, now you're bleeding...But I could be that guy, to heal it over time, and I won't stop until you believe it, 'cause baby you're worth it...”

They didn't even need to go any further into the song. Chris stopped playing and they both smiled at each other before slapping hands in victory.

It was only a few seconds before they heard footsteps coming down the stairs.

“We heard music playing,” Mel said, coming down first.

“Yeah, what are you two up to?” Addy said with a sly smile, coming down behind her.

“Oh, nothing,” Chris and Lance said in unison, grinning.

“They're definitely up to something,” Melissa said, looking at Addy with a smile.

“And it can't be good,” Addy responded.

Chapter 35 – This Means War

Five days later

Lance smiled as he watched the intense look of concentration on his mother's face.

“And you wrap it around like this,” Adeline said to her, exaggerating her hand motions as she wrapped a piece of yarn around a knitting needle.

“Like this?” Diane said, doing it herself.

“No, you're wrapping it the wrong way,” Addy responded. “Let me show you one more time.”

Lance looked over at his father, who was sitting parallel to him in the second recliner, and rolled his eyes as he smiled and rocked himself in the recliner.

“Oh phooey,” Diane finally said, shoving her own knitting needles and yarn towards Addy. “Forget this. I'll keep buying my sweaters at the Gap.”

“That was ten minutes,” Lance said, looking at his father. “I believe you owe me twenty bucks, pop.”

“You couldn't have held out for ten more minutes, Diane?” Jim asked, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet.

Addy and Lance both chuckled, and she bundled the forgotten needles and yarn together, lowering them into the basket at her feet. She picked up the long circular needle connected to several inches of knitted blanket fabric, pulling off a workable length of yarn before setting it in her lap and immediately beginning to work the needles.

“It's so easy,” she said, glancing over at her mother-in-law briefly before settling her eyes again on her project. “The problem is that it's so complicated to explain.”

“You can't teach this old dog new tricks, dear,” Diane replied. “But thank you for trying. And I think what you're working on is beautiful. Liam will absolutely love it.”

“Speaking of, how's that room coming along, son?” Jim asked, looking over at Lance.

“Come with me, I'll show you,” Lance responded, standing up out of his chair.

The men headed toward the stairs, looking back at the women.

“Are you two coming?” Jim asked.

“It takes me ten minutes to stand,” Addy said, “so no way.”

“You two go,” Diane said. “I'll go see it before we leave in a few hours.”

Lance was the first to step foot on the staircase, turning around to walk backwards and look at his father as he went up.

“Give me my money,” he said. When he got a raising of eyebrows in return, he smiled. “Please and thank you.”

“Forgetting your Southern hospitality, boy,” Jim said, handing over the money. “I brought you into this world, I'll take you right back out of it.”

Addy and Diane both laughed as the men disappeared upstairs.

“Like father, like son,” Diane said.

“Oh Lord, please don't say that,” Addy said, shooting a worried look at her mother-in-law. “I can not handle a smaller version of him.”

Diane laughed. “Do you think you're ready?”

“I don't think I'll ever be ready for this,” Addy responded, still clicking the needles together. “This is one time I wish more than ever that my mother was around. I don't think I can do this by myself.”

“You don't have to,” Diane said, looking at her daughter-in-law. “Addy, you have motherly instincts. You have a gift – you know how to take care of people.”

Adeline stopped knitting and looked at her.

“Three years ago,” Diane continued, “when you came to Lance, he was a wreck, dear. Mackenzie stole his heart and broke it into half a million pieces when she left. I think he always knew she wasn't the right girl for him deep down, but she was the only one he was willing to give so much of himself to. I've always believed that God works in mysterious ways. I was heartbroken for my son when his engagement fell apart – not because I was all that crazy about Kenzie myself, but because he was hurting so much. I prayed for his happiness day in and day out, asking God to open a window since He closed a door for Lance. You were that window, Addy.”

Diane reached out next to her and grabbed Addy's arm, giving it a squeeze.

“God knew you two would cross paths. Lance was meant to be with you, not Mackenzie. Unfortunately, it meant you two had to suffer through broken hearts to get there – but that was how God opened you up to each other. You came to Lance at a time when he needed you most...to show him that there was someone who would still take care of him, who would still put up with him when he was at his worst, who would care for him – and eventually, love him – unconditionally.”

“Lance came to me when I needed him the most,” Addy said. “I felt unloved and unwanted, and utterly useless after I lost my daughter. Like I couldn't do anything right, even if it was something I was supposed to be able to do naturally like have a baby. I wasn't useless to him – he needed me. Even if it was for the most basic, simple things, he still made it feel like he couldn't manage without me. He cared about me, he wanted to have me around, and he knew about my problems but he still loved me – problems and all.”

“Because he loves you for who you are and the happiness you bring him,” Diane said. “Not for the things you can or can't give him. I would never in a million years diminish the loss of your daughter – but it is what makes you such a beautiful person, Addy. I can never take the place of your mother, and I would never try...but you are no different than one of my own. I am so proud to call you my daughter.”

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“Wow,” Jim said, walking into the room and looking around. The room he had once seen bare in pictures, in an ugly, discolored shade of eggshell white, had been completely transformed and restored. “This looks great, son.”

“It's not quite finished,” Lance said, looking over the things that still needed to be done – furniture to put together, a few clothing and toy gifts that had been given to them put away, and more decorations hung on the wall. “But it's getting there.”

“I don't know, looks like you're pretty prepared to me.”

Lance shoved his hands in his jean pockets, leaning against the wall by the door.

“But am I, dad?” he asked.

Jim looked over his shoulder, a brief smile coming to his face.

“Ahh,” he said, nodding. “First-time father fears.”

“I guess it's nothing you haven't experienced before, huh?”

“Every man does, son,” Jim said.

“I thought I was ready for this,” Lance said. “I'm 33 years old – I should be ready for this. And now...I don't think I have a clue what I'm doing.”

“Babies don't come with an instruction book, Lance,” Jim said. “Nobody has a clue what they're doing at first. But you learn.”

“I'm not worried about things like changing diapers and making bottles and giving baths, dad. I'm worried about the other stuff – what if I let my family down? What if I can't give them everything they need? What if I can't keep them safe? Everything's such a mess right now.”

Jim paused, before turning his body to face Lance.

“You haven't failed yet, have you?” he asked.

“I guess I haven't,” Lance said hesitantly.

“We all fail at some point in life, son,” Jim said. “But the most important thing about failing is to be a man and acknowledge that you can do better next time. Your bills are paid, you have a beautiful new house, and your wife is happy and healthy. How could you think you've already failed?”

“So I guess I'm freaking out for nothing?” Lance said with a slight smile.

“Not for nothing,” Jim responded. “I'd be more concerned about you if you weren't already 'freaking out'.”

The two men paused silently for a few moments as Jim looked around the room, before finally looking over at Lance again.

“I'm proud of you,” he said.

Lance smiled. “Thanks, dad.”

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“Are you sure you can't stay one more day?”

Adeline stood by Lance's parents as the two men brought the last suitcase down from the stairs, setting them by the door.

“I wish we could, dear,” Diane said to Addy. “We've had such a wonderful time – but work and life calls.”

“I'm going to miss you, though,” Addy said. “It's been nice having you around.”

“Oh, I'm going to miss you, too,” Diane said, reaching to give Addy a hug. “It feels like it's been so long since we've seen y'all, and you've gotten so big...”

“Don't say that mom,” Lance said with a smile. “She'll hurt you.”

“I won't hurt her,” Addy said. “When she says it, she means well; she's a woman, she knows. When you say it, it's offensive.”

Lance's mouth dropped open and he scoffed, looking at his father.

“You've arrived at marriage,” Jim said. “Welcome. Enjoy your stay...it's a long one.”

“Oh, you stop,” Diane said, watching as her husband laughed.

“We'd better get this show on the road,” Jim said, glancing at his watch. “Our flight leaves in about an hour.”

Addy couldn't help but feel herself tear up as Lance walked over to her and wrapped his arms around her. Having in-laws that felt more like biological parents to her was something to treasure, and she hated to say goodbye – even if she knew they were coming back next month for Christmas.

“We'll be back before you know it,” Diane said, seemingly sensing Addy's sadness. “Christmas will come before you can snap your fingers – and so will that baby.”

“Don't jinx us, mom,” Lance said. “I still need time to finish a few things.”

“You'll get it all taken care of,” she said.

Diane and Jim each hugged Addy and Lance before Jim lifted the last suitcase in his hand, gently ushering his wife out the door.

“We'll miss you guys,” Diane said. “Take care of yourself – and don't have that baby before our flight lands on the 23rd.”

Addy chuckled. “I'll try.”

“We love you.”

After a few last hugs, they finally closed the door behind themselves, and Lance sighed.

“The holiday's over I guess,” he said. “Back to work.”

“I'm going to miss having them in the house,” Addy responded. “It was so nice.”

“When my parents are old and senile and they have to move in with us, I'll remember you said that,” he replied.

She chuckled as he released her from his arms and started to walk away. She was only a few steps behind him when a dull stabbing pain hit her in the back and she grabbed his arm in response.

“What's wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she said, feeling the pain start to subside quickly. “It caught me off guard this time, that's all.”

“Maybe I shouldn't go to work today,” he said.

“Don't start that again,” she said. “Lance, I'm fine. They're Braxton-Hicks contractions. They're not even real ones.”

“They look pretty damn real to me,” he said.

“You're a boy, what do you know?” she asked, smiling slightly.

“I'm not joking, Ad,” he said. “I don't want to leave you here alone when you're feeling like this.”

“I can handle this,” she said. “Lance, my body knows what it's doing.”

“I wish Mel was here,” Lance said, still feeling uneasy.

“I'm glad she's not. They're having a great time in Pennsylvania. She needed to get away.”

“Then let me call Joey or Kelly over.”

“No!” she said, raising her voice slightly. “Would you trust me for once? I'm fine.”

She smiled when he looked at her, noticing his concern.

“I'll be fine,” she said. “You have a show to do in thirty minutes. I'll go take a nice, warm bath, then lay on the couch with a book and a movie, and relax. That always helps.”

He sighed, still hesitant. “Are you sure?”

“Get out,” she said. “Go to work. I'll be fine.”

“Okay, okay,” he said, finally smiling. “You don't have to kick me out. I'm leaving.”

She watched him walk over to the door, grabbing his coat and scarf to bundle up against the cold from the snow that was still on the ground. More had fallen over the weekend and winter was officially underway in New York.

“Are you sure you don't--”

“Lance!”

“Okay,” he said, chuckling. “I'll be home around seven. Call me if you need me.”

“I won't,” she said. “Get the hell out of my house.”

He smiled. “Same Addy, as always.”

“You expected me to change?” she asked with a smile.

“Never. I want you just the way you are.” He reached over and grabbed her hand, pulling her towards him. He kissed her quickly. “I'll see you tonight. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Addy,” he said, pointing his finger at her. “Call me if you need me. I'm serious.”

“I will,” she said. “Go away. Do your show.”

He kissed her again before opening the door and giving her a quick smile before he left, letting her shut the door behind him.

She smiled as she briefly leaned against the door. The smile was short-lived; another pain shot down her back and she placed her hand in the spot and winced.

“Ouch,” she said to herself, releasing a breath through her mouth. “Breathe, Addy. Breathe.”

She tried not to worry herself. The pains were distracting, but not debilitating. In fact, they didn't feel a lot different from when the baby would get a little rowdy inside of her and kick a little too hard, which happened a lot now that he was running out of room and he would inevitably kick a rib or an internal organ.

“You have to settle down in there,” she said, placing a hand on her stomach as the pain started to die down. “The last thing I want is for your daddy to wrap me in bubble wrap or quit his job to stay home with us all day.”

A bath was what she needed after all. She headed off to the bathroom, immediately leaning down to run the water. She dusted a few drops of bath oil in, letting the scent permeate the room as it hit the hot water. She let the bath fill, sinking in slowly once all her clothes were off.

The minute the water hit her muscles, she felt herself relax. She dunked her hair below the water and quickly washed her hair before she sunk down into the tub, letting her eyes close.

She had no idea that it would work so well to relax her enough to put her to sleep. She didn't know how long she had spent asleep, but she woke up in time for the water to start turning lukewarm. By the time she lifted herself out of her bath, the back pain had subsided – but tired after the long day and having company over all weekend, she was ready for laying on the couch for some relaxation – as she had promised him.

She quickly dried herself off and pulled on a fresh t-shirt and pair of pajama pants, knowing that she wouldn't be going anywhere tonight. She planned to catch up on her old episodes of her DVR'ed shows and lay down with a blanket and a good book – hopefully falling asleep in Lance's arms that night after he got home.

She wrapped her wet hair in the towel and piled it on top of her head, stepping out of the bathroom barefooted onto the cold hardwood floors. Despite the fact that Lance had kicked on the heat before he left the house, it was chilly after her bath, and she could feel goosebumps cover her bare arms.

She stood in front of the TV for a moment, grabbing the remote and turning it to the first decent thing she found – a Law and Order marathon. By now, she was more than a little tired of watching them solve complicated cases in less than an hour, but over the course of her eight-month “house arrest”, she had become hooked. Throwing the remote on the couch for later, she turned to walk into the kitchen. The pain had been too bad for most of the morning for her to feel like eating, but by now her stomach was starting to protest.

Every time she opened the refrigerator, she remembered one of the best advantages to pregnancy – the ability to eat almost anything you wanted, with slightly less guilt. She reached for the chocolate syrup before opening the freezer and grabbing the pint of ice cream. She pulled a bowl out of the cabinet and an ice cream scoop out of the drawer, already looking forward to the evening.

“A little mid-evening snack?”

She was in the process of putting the first scoop in the bowl when she heard the voice. She was able to shriek loudly before she felt a hand clamp over her mouth tightly, feeling a hard object against her temple.

“We meet again, Addy,” Marc said, leaning over her shoulder to look at her. “I've been looking forward to this for a long time.”

Chapter 36 – Bleed For Me (Part One)

“Hey, you've reached Addy. Leave me a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can.”

Lance narrowed his eyebrows at his phone in his hands, staring at it with a bewildered expression as if he expected it to answer his question.

That was the second time he had tried to call Addy's cell since the last commercial break, to check on her and make sure she was still feeling okay. For the second time in a row, he listened to it ring twice before going straight to her voicemail – as if it was turned off, or she was hitting the ignore button.

“You know, I'm starting to take your absence personally,” JC said, walking up next to Lance in the studio. “That and the fact that the minute you cut to a commercial, you bolt away from me.”

“It's not you,” Lance said, shaking his head. He had forgotten when he came in today that he had JC and the girls from his band, Girl Radical, in the studio today. “It's just...when I left the house, Addy wasn't feeling too great, she was really hurting, and I'm a little worried about her. But she's not answering her phone.”

“Maybe she laid down to take a nap,” JC said.

“No, the phone would wake her up,” Lance replied. “I'm worried that she can't get to her phone.”

“What, you think she's in labor?”

“I'm not an expert, but that's what it looked like to me,” Lance said, putting the phone up to his ear again after having hit the redial button.

JC looked on for a few seconds before Lance shook his head and lowered the phone, pressing the end button.

“It's still going straight to her voicemail,” he said. “It's like she's deliberately ignoring my call or something – but that's not like her.”

“Well, you have been slightly overbearing lately, man,” JC said with a small smile. “I know you've had a lot to worry about, but maybe she needs some time to herself where you're not hovering over her. Maybe she went to a dark, private place.”

“She's not a cat, JC,” Lance said with a slight chuckle. “It's not like she ran under the bed to have her babies.”

“I'll be glad when she finally has that kid,” JC said. “You'll be a lot more pleasant to be around.”

Lance shook his head disapprovingly at his friend before hitting the button on his phone yet again. This time, he was calling their old apartment, thinking maybe she had run over there for something and forgotten to take her phone with her.

When he got nothing after several rings, he hit the end button on his phone and immediately dialed their new home phone number.

“Maybe her phone is dead and she doesn't know it,” Lance said to JC, mostly to comfort himself.

The phone rang five times before a voice finally came over the line, but it wasn't quite what he was wanting to hear.

“You've reached Addy and Lance,” the answering machine said in her voice. “We're not home right now but leave a message and we'll get back to you as soon as we can.”

He waited for the beep.

“Ad, you're not answering your cell phone, you're not at the old apartment, and now you're not answering at home. I'm worried about you,” he said. “I'm coming home. Please call me back and let me know you're okay. Love you.”

JC shook his head once Lance hung up the phone.

“She's gonna hurt you when she realizes you left work to come all the way home,” he said. “You know Addy and her independent streak.”

“Yeah, and I also know that if nothing was wrong and she didn't want me to run straight home, she'd pick up at least one out of three phones,” he said, shoving the phone in his pocket and running to grab his coat and keys. “Something's wrong, Jace. Sorry to run out on you but Turkey can run the show. If nothing's wrong, I'll be back in half an hour.”

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“I'm coming home. Please call me back and let me know you're okay. Love you.”

Addy watched as the answering machine turned off and a smile came to Marc's face.

“Looks like we'll make this party of three into a party of four soon,” he said. “I didn't expect him to come to me so easily.”

“Please don't do this, Marc,” she begged, Lance's voice over the machine ringing in her ears. “Let me call him back and tell him not to come home. I'll tell him I was in the bath when he called, and I couldn't come to the phone. You can have me all to yourself. Just...please.”

“And miss my golden opportunity?” he asked. “I'll have him right where I want him. Why would I give that up?”

“Why are you doing this to us?” she asked him.

“Whatever do you mean, Adeline?” he asked, throwing his arm over the back of the chair he had turned to face her. “Do you mean the stalking? The harassment? The suicide alibi? My genius revenge plan? Or do you mean my lovely sidekick?”

Adeline could see Mackenzie standing next to her out of the corner of her eye, smiling as she slightly pressed the cold barrel of the gun further into Addy's skin.

“It was such a beautiful plan, wasn't it?” Marc said. “And it worked so well.”

“It doesn't have to come to this,” Addy said. “Whatever you want, you can take it. I know the combination to Lance's safe and I know all his PIN numbers. He even leaves our checkbook at home.”

Marc chuckled. “You think I want your money? I have my own money. I don't need boyband wages. You're not that stupid, Addy.”

“What do you want then?” she asked.

“I want him dead,” he said, his face turning to an angry scowl.

She paused a moment, fighting a flood of emotion that threatened to come over her – sadness, fear, and anxiety especially.

“Let me call him,” she said. “I'll tell him I'm leaving – that I want a divorce. You can get what you want – me – and nobody has to get hurt.”

“I don't want you,” he said. “I'm not on a quest to win you back, Addy. My quest is much simpler.”

“What is your quest?” she asked. “If you don't want me, what do you want?”

“I want to watch him suffer,” he responded. “I want to watch him suffer the same way that I did two and a half years ago.”

She closed her eyes, the sobs coming.

“No,” she said. “Please don't hurt the baby, Marc.”

“It takes, what Mackenzie? Ten minutes for him to get home from the station?” he asked.

“Five if he takes the shortcut,” she answered. “And if he's in a hurry.”

“Oh, I guarantee he's in a hurry,” he said with a smile towards her. “Take her to the baby's room. Tie her up. I'll wait here and give Loverboy a proper greeting.”

Mackenzie nodded and without a word, handed the gun over to Marc, who pulled a large knife out of a sheath against his hip, hidden under his black shirt.

“Keep an eye on her,” he said, handing the knife over to her. “All the time, Mackenzie. She likes to try to play a hero. Don't let her pull one over on you.”

Addy could feel tears come to her eyes as Mackenzie grabbed her arm, helping her off the couch as she reluctantly stood. Without a word, Mackenzie placed the dull side of the knife lightly against her back.

“Go,” she ordered.

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Lance pulled into the driveway quickly, his eyes immediately cutting to Addy's car in the driveway. It hadn't moved an inch from where it was parked all weekend.

It concerned him. If her car hadn't moved, that had to mean she was home – she certainly wouldn't take a cab or go for a walk, especially considering how badly she'd been feeling all weekend. And Addy never ignored the phone ringing. Since her job was being a personal assistant, her phone was one of her best friends – and she always answered it. He often joked about her having her phone strapped to her waist like a holstered gun, reminding him of an Old West cowboy the way she reached for it upon the first ring, her version of a “quick draw”. And she was a light sleeper – she could hear her cell ring two rooms away at three in the morning when she was in her deepest sleep. To make matters worse, lately her “deepest” sleep wasn't so deep, being pregnant and constantly uncomfortable. If she was anywhere near her phone, she would answer at least one of his calls – unless there was a reason she couldn't.

He ran up the sidewalk and up the porch steps, taking them two at a time, reaching the door. To his relief, the door was at least locked, so he quickly put his keys in and opened it.

Silence hit him the moment he opened the door and stepped in, with the only thing he could hear being the television.

“Addy?” he yelled.

He was surprised to get no answer.

“Addy, baby, are you okay?” he yelled. “You're not answering the phones.”

Expecting to hear her yell at him from up the stairs that he had interrupted his show and come all the way home from work, he was surprised when he heard a strange click. The next thing he felt was a hard object pressed up to the nape of his neck.

“She's currently indisposed,” a voice said.

Lance closed his eyes, realizing he had a gun pressed to his head – and recognizing the voice of Marc.

“Nice to see you again, Lance,” he said. “Let's go find her and have some fun, shall we?”

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Addy did as she was told to do, walking from the living room up the stairs, and down the hallway towards the baby's room. Once there, Mackenzie led her to a chair by the window, instructing her to sit down. Adeline was surprised when Mackenzie pulled a piece of cloth – a bandana, she thought – out of her back pocket, and immediately reached behind Addy.

“Do as you're told to do,” she told Addy, her voice robotic as if repeating a mantra. “Don't try to be a hero, Addy. This will be a lot easier.”

“It was you the whole time,” Addy responded. “I knew it. And so did Lance. I should have listened to him.”

Mackenzie was silent as she finished tying Addy's hands together, securing them with a double knot. Addy let a whimper escape when she heard Lance's voice quietly from downstairs.

“He's home,” Mackenzie whispered.

Addy narrowed her eyebrows. Mackenzie's behavior was strange, even to her. It was as if she was only going through the motions – doing a poor job of acting, following a script that she had studied over and over again until she had every last word memorized. Her eyes were dead, even more so than the last time she had seen her a week and a half ago.

“Kenzie...” she finally whispered. “Why are you doing this to us?”

“Addy,” Mackenzie harshly whispered. “Shut up. If you want to make it out of this alive...you and Lance...don't talk.”

That's when Addy realized – Mackenzie may have been holding a knife to her, but she wasn't doing this by her own choice.

“Well, look who I found.”

Adeline looked up and saw Lance, still in his suit from work, walking slowly into the room – behind him, Marc appeared, holding the gun to the back of his head.

“It's Loverboy,” he said, looking at Adeline. “All of us in the same room again, after all this time. It's like a reunion. Isn't that nice?”

“Marc,” Adeline begged, feeling tears staining her eyes. “Please don't.”

“Ohhh,” Marc drawled. “You and him – so in love. Don't want me to shoot him, do you?”

She flinched and cried out when she heard the gun go off – only making a clicking sound. She looked up to see Lance, his eyes closed.

“False fire,” Marc said. “Oops. Guess I forgot to put bullets in.”

As Marc pulled the bullets out of his pockets and loaded the gun, Addy could see Lance breathing – heavily. He was as terrified as she was, but he was trying to put on a brave face for her. When he finished loading the gun, he put it back up to Lance's head and she watched him flinch as the barrel hit his scalp.

“Uh-oh,” Marc said, looking at Adeline. “We're locked and loaded now.”

“You're a sicker bastard than I thought you were,” she said, trying to hold back her tears.

“Addy, shut up,” Lance said.

“Yeah, Addy,” Marc said with a smile. “This isn't the time to let that mouth of yours get the better of you. I could shoot him...right now.”

“It's not him you want,” she said. “You know that, Marc. I'm the one you want.”

“Addy, shut...up,” Lance said, nearly growling.

“Better listen to your husband, Addy,” Marc said, laughing. “I don't think he wants to die.”

That was when he grabbed the collar of Lance's suit jacket, using it to push him closer to Addy and Mackenzie, until they were standing in front of them.

“But you know, I don't think I'll kill him yet,” Marc said, looking at Lance. “I have other plans.”

He motioned to Kenzie, who immediately stepped away from Adeline to his side. He gave her the gun and held out his hand, and she immediately placed the knife in his palm and took his place behind Lance, pressing the gun to the back of his head again.

Adeline took a deep breath as Marc walked behind her, holding the knife in his hand. She saw Lance clench up in front of her when he brought the knife down to her rounded stomach.

“I'd rather see him suffer the way I've suffered,” he said. “Mackenzie, gag him.”

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He felt woozy. Lance knew now why they called it a gag – the sensation of having something stuck in his mouth and not being able to get it out made him want to do exactly that...gag. He felt relieved when he'd seen Marc lower the knife from Addy's stomach, but surprised when Mackenzie had wrapped the bandana around him and stuffed it in his mouth, tying it tightly around the back of his head. That wasn't the Mackenzie he knew, the Mackenzie he used to call his Kenzie. He knew Marc had to have been behind this all along...but he never expected Mackenzie.

Looking in her eyes before she had followed Marc out of the room, though, something told him it wasn't really her. Something was different about her. She had pain in her eyes, like she didn't want to do this to him; like she didn't have this in her. She wasn't a cold-blooded killer.

Of course, that was before she reared her arm back and pistol-whipped him.

From then, everything had been slightly blurry. He knew he was handcuffed to something, sitting here on the floor. He could feel the blood from his eyebrow trickling down his temple. It hurt like hell; far worse than when he was a kid and his cousin had hit him over the head with the broom handle.

But at least a busted eyebrow was better than being dead right now.

He could hear Addy in the corner, crying to herself, prevented from speaking by her own gag. He wanted to reach out for her, but the handcuffs prevented him from moving his arms, and he'd been moved several feet away from her as it was. He'd have talked to her to comfort her, but the gag prevented him from doing much more than mumbling nonsensically. He was essentially helpless.

From his spot, he could hear them talking out in his living room.

“This wasn't in the plan,” Mackenzie said.

“Screw the plan,” Marc said.

“So what? Now you're going to kill him, too?”

Lance could tell that Addy could hear them too, because she looked over at him with tears in her eyes.

“Why not?” Marc said. “It's not like anybody will miss him.”

“The plan was to hurt her enough that she would lose the baby, Marc!” Mackenzie yelled. “That was the original plan! We were never going to kill them.”

“I don't think that's enough,” he said in response. “I don't think it's enough to destroy them. Their relationship is too strong. He's determined to stick with her no matter what happens. I can't have that happen.”

“Why are you so hell-bent on destroying his life?” she asked. “What did he ever do to you? She's the one who left you for him!”

“And I want to destroy her,” he said. “The only way to do that is get him and that baby out of the picture. He'll die, and she'll lose the baby...she'll finally be so distraught she won't be able to function. It'll destroy her from the inside.”

“You're disgusting.”

Lance and Adeline heard a loud thump against the wall that made both of them jump.

“Do you want out now?” Lance heard Marc ask Mackenzie. “It can be arranged.”

“N...no,” he heard her stutter.

“It's only one more hole to dig, one more body to bury, Kenz,” he said. “Now, I'll ask you again. The new plan – are you in, or are you out?”

Lance swore in the silence he heard Mackenzie whimper.

“Y-yeah,” she stuttered. “I'm...I'm in.”

The entire house went silent again for a few moments before he heard Marc speak again.

“I'm going to have a few minutes alone with the little bitch,” he said. “You babysit Loverboy – and if you get any bright ideas to help him escape, I'll bury the two of you next to each other.”

Lance's eyes widened and he looked over at Adeline, who struggled for breath.

He was coming to get her.

Marc breezed into the room holding the knife at his side, and Mackenzie followed slowly after. He flew past Lance, sitting on the floor, and immediately went to Adeline – grabbing her hair in his hand and pulling it up as he reached behind her to untie her from the chair.

“You're coming with me, my little darling,” he said as she whimpered in pain. “Don't worry – your wonderful husband will be well taken care of while we're gone.”

Chapter 37 – Bleed For Me (Part Two)

She hated how he called her “my little darling”. She felt like she was living a real-life Silence of the Lambs – only her ex-husband was the creep this time.

He continued to pull her by her hair, not bothering to slow down to accommodate her much-slower pace now that she was pregnant. She knew he didn't care; she and Lance had heard them talking.

He was going to kill her baby first, then Lance – and then probably her.

“Oh Addy,” he finally said as he pulled her into the kitchen. “What a predicament you've found yourself in, huh?

She tried to speak, but the gag prevented her from doing anything but mumbling.

“Can't talk?” he asked, a disgusting smile on his face. “Let me help you with that.”

He reached behind her head and her skin crawled as his hand brushed along her ear and neck as he untied the bandana. She waited until the perfect opportunity, when he pulled it off her face and his face was inches from hers, before she spit in his face.

“Sick freak,” she stuttered, her mouth sore from having been gagged.

She watched him smile as he wiped her saliva from his cheek, before he reached up again to grab a handful of her hair. She cried in pain as he pulled her head down, leaning into her until the tip of his nose was pressed against her cheek.

“You little bitch,” he whispered. “You've always been a little insubordinate, Addy. I used to like that about you. To tell you the truth, I still do.”

He laughed and she could hear him inhale a breath, smelling the scent of her freshly washed hair.

“I'll bet he likes that, too,” he said. “I've been watching you guys a long time. You two seem like the perfect pair. You move, he moves. You keep him in line, he keeps you in line...”

Her breathing became heavy as she felt the handle of the knife and his hand holding it brush against her stomach.

“I could end it all – right here, right now.”

She whimpered when she felt the metal edge of the knife press lightly into her skin – enough so she was aware of it, but not deeply enough to cause injury.

“You wouldn't,” she said.

“Wouldn't I?” he asked. “I wouldn't do it because I know how it feels, right? That's exactly why I would.”

She felt him dig the knife in a little further and resisted the urge to burst into tears. One wrong slip and she knew he would break skin.

“He has everything that's mine,” he growled in her ear. “My wife. My child. My life. He took it all away from me. But I can take it away from him just as easily.”

That's when she felt him slowly start to move the edge of the knife across her stomach.

“How'd you do it?” she said suddenly, in a panic to attempt to distract him. “How did you do all this, Marc?”

“Easy enough,” he said with a chuckle. She could feel his hot breath on her cheek. “You're a good assistant Addy, but you're so stupid. So gullible. You don't think your little Loverboy actually wanted Mackenzie, do you?”

“What are you talking about?” she asked.

“It was supposed to be a simple enough plan,” he said. “Mackenzie needed help and I was in a position to give it to her – as long as she did something for me in return. Imagine my joy when she agreed. She was all too happy to come back to New York and break you guys up.”

“That was you,” she said.

“Of course it was,” he said, and she could tell that he was getting enjoyment out of it. “You heard him tell you that he didn't kiss her willingly that night. All she had to do was make a special appearance at that party, without you seeing her. Lucky for me that she was able to get him alone. I mean it all fell into place so...perfectly, Addy. You stepped in at exactly the right moment. Right on cue. It was a director's dream scene.”

It all fell into place to her then. He had been telling the truth, as he had said, but it went farther than that. It had been a set-up. Mackenzie had come back with the intention of getting Lance back – but only because she was forced to. It was all about getting Addy away from him.

“You want me,” Adeline said.

“It's not that I want you, per se,” he whispered in her ear. “I just don't want him to have what was supposed to be mine. So I'm going to take care of that.”

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Lance had watched helplessly as Marc had dragged his pregnant wife out of the room by her hair. He felt even more out of control than he had before. At least when she had been in the room with him, he could see what was going on, even if he couldn't help her. Now that he had dragged her out of the room, he couldn't see what Marc was doing to her – or if he was hurting her.

It was clear his objective was to make Addy miscarry the baby – and have Lance watch as it happened before he killed him.

His instinct had been to fight, if only to save her and his unborn son. The only thing that stopped him was knowing that it would make things worse for her. With the handcuffs, he wouldn't be able to move anyway; he would only further piss off Marc, and he would take it out on Addy – if he didn't simply kill her right then and there.

So he sat by while he watched his wife being dragged out – hoping that Addy would cooperate with Marc long enough that he could figure out a way to get them out of this.

Once Marc had finished dragging Addy out of the room, Mackenzie looked in Lance's eyes, holding her index finger up to her mouth in a silent “shush” signal.

She made her way over to him, peeking out the door cautiously before kneeling next to Lance and leaning in.

“I'm going to take the gag off,” she whispered, close to his ear. “Don't cough, don't gag, don't scream, don't sneeze, don't even breathe...” She lifted the gun in her hand, placing the end of the barrel against his temple. “...or I will fucking shoot you, Lance. Do you understand?”

He nodded in agreement, and in one movement, she pulled the bandana out of his mouth, letting it hang around his neck.

“I'm going to get you out of this,” she whispered.

“And I'm supposed to trust you?” he whispered back. “I'm handcuffed. You've got a fucking gun to my head.”

“Do you have anybody else offering to help you out here?”

He was silent.

“Yeah, I didn't think so,” she whispered.

“I see you finally lost your last marble,” he said, continuing to speak in whispered tones, not knowing when Marc would come back. “I should have believed Addy when she said you were up to no good.”

“You think I'd do this by choice?” she asked, peeking out the door once more.

“What, kill me?”

“I'm not going to kill you Lance,” she said.

“I might believe you if I wasn't staring down the barrel of a gun right now,” he said.

“You're staring down the barrel of a gun because I'm at the end of my rope and hanging on by a fucking thread,” she said. “And if you do anything to give me away, I will kill you before he kills me and I swear to God, Lance, I will still manage to find a way to fucking haunt you in both of our afterlives.”

From her tone and the way she sounded like she was ready to snap at any minute, he knew she was as scared for her own life as he was for theirs.

He was surprised when she reached behind him and he heard the handcuffs unlock.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Shut up,” she said harshly. “Don't talk, just listen. There's been a change of plans, and it's you and me now.”

“You and me?” he asked.

“I'm going to distract him,” she went on. “I'll get the knife away from him. You're going to wait for that perfect moment, and then you're going to strike. He won't expect it. You have to pretend to still be handcuffed. And you can't say anything to Addy – not a word. Do you hear me Lance? She's too much of a risk. She'll get too freaked out and she'll mess it up.”

He nodded, still confused – he couldn't tell if Mackenzie was his captor or his savior anymore.

“Don't fuck this up, Lance,” she said. “If you fuck this up...we're all going to die.”

“No pressure, Kenz,” he said.

“He'll kill all of us,” she said. “Without a second thought. He's Jeffrey Dahmer in different clothing.”

“How did he get you to do this?” he asked. “Kenz, how did it get so bad that you'd get yourself into something like this?”

“I don't have time to explain,” she said after hearing a noise and peeking outside the door. “He's coming. I have to gag you again. Don't screw this up, Lance.”

He reluctantly allowed her to stuff the gag back in his mouth, holding his hands together behind his back so it would appear that he was still handcuffed, in case Marc checked. He could hear his footsteps coming down the hall.

He looked up to Mackenzie, and she looked back at him sympathetically.

“I'm sorry,” she said, barely above a whisper.

He was about to narrow his eyes at her in an unspoken question, wondering what she meant – but she took him by surprise when she reached up and slapped him across the cheek.

“And that's for leaving me six days before our wedding!” she yelled, watching him reel from the surprise hit.

“Look at that,” Marc said as he came into the room, holding Addy in front of him by her shoulders. “We walked into a little lover's spat.”

Lance grit his teeth against the fabric of the gag, waiting for the sting in his cheek to go away. If he wasn't under strict orders not to get them all killed, he'd have yelled at her that a warning would have been nice.

“That looked like it hurt a little,” Marc said, closely to Addy's ear. “I liked it.”

Lance glanced up enough to look in her eyes. She was no longer gagged, but she was completely silent. He could see the tears in her eyes, and the look of fear she gave him. It made him wonder exactly what Marc had done to her while she was out of the room, out of his sight. If he had threatened her, or hurt her, or worse...touched her, in any way that made her uncomfortable.

The thought gave him exactly the rage he needed to form a plan in his head...and now all he needed was for Mackenzie to get that knife away from Marc.

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“How long are you going to drag this out, Marc?”

Lance remained silent with his head hung to his chest as Mackenzie spoke.

“As long as I damn well want to,” he responded from his seat next to Addy.

Lance sighed, adjusting his arm slightly to relieve the ache. He had been holding his arms behind his back for over an hour already, not moving more than an inch at a time, in an attempt to pretend that he was still handcuffed to the bars of the crib. His eyes kept cutting to Mackenzie, trying to urge her to hurry and get on with whatever her plan was, but so far, she had only looked back at him and remained in her spot on the chair a few feet away from him.

He had watched for the past hour as Marc had sat beside Addy, continually torturing her with the sight of the knife. Every few minutes, he would pull her to stand from the chair and take her out of the room – sometimes to the bathroom, sometimes he wouldn't say where he was taking her. Every time he would return with her, she looked even more afraid, even though every time he didn't think it was possible.

He had also noticed that while she remained quiet, she winced every few moments. She didn't have to say anything to him for him to know – the contractions had started again. This time they were bad, and consistently spaced apart.

He knew they were running out of time.

“Can we move on with this already?” Mackenzie asked tersely. “I have a life I'd like to get back to at some point.”

Marc chuckled. “Oh yeah, and what does that include exactly? Your career isn't exactly flourishing, baby.”

“Neither is yours...baby,” she responded.

Marc pressed his lips together at her sass. “We'll get on with it when I want to. I'm running this show, Mackenzie.”

“And you never let me forget it,” she responded. “Shouldn't I get something I want out of this, too?”

“You're getting what you want,” he said. “Money. Don't forget about that. His blood won't even be dry on the floor before I pull out my pen and sign that check. Then you can put your poor mother in a home and move to Barbados for all I care.”

At the mention of Mackenzie's mother, Lance looked up – now it all made sense. Mackenzie's mother had been diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer's ten years before he had met her, when she was only in her early 40's. By the time that Lance had met Mackenzie, her mother was already starting her tragic climb downhill. He remembered the first time he had ever met her mother – she was nervous for him to meet her to begin with, and warned her of the possible strange behavior. It had shown the first day he spent with the two of them, when an hour after he had introduced himself to her, she couldn't remember his name.

He hadn't seen the woman in over two years, but he couldn't imagine how bad it had gotten since the two of them broke up. Obviously, it was so bad that she needed full-time care – and Mackenzie would do anything to give it to her.

“Maybe I don't care about money anymore,” Mackenzie said. “Maybe I want something else.”

“Like what?” Marc asked.

Lance watched as a sly grin came to her face.

“I want to kill her.”

His heart stopped briefly.

“Really?” Marc asked, his interest piqued. “Care to elaborate?”

Mackenzie glanced at Adeline a moment, shooting her a resentful look.

“She took what was mine,” she said. “Like he took what was yours. They're both selfish. You want him dead...and I want her dead.”

“An hour ago, you wanted me to let them both go,” he said.

“An hour ago, I didn't have a reminder of what I could have had sitting right here next to me,” she said. “And an hour ago, I didn't have a reminder of who stole it from me sitting across from me – pregnant with his kid. Maybe I realize now I want them to suffer as much as you do.”

Marc smiled. “I like this side of you, Kenz. It's hot. Maybe I am a sick fuck.”

Adeline watched on as Marc stood out of his chair and walked over to Mackenzie, her breathing becoming heavy and her eyes wide.

“You've got the gun,” he said. “Have at it.”

Lanced watched silently as Mackenzie looked up at Marc with a smile.

“I don't want the gun,” she said. “It's too quick. I want it painful. I want the knife.”

Those were the only words Lance needed to hear – now he knew her angle. Now was the time to kick the plan into action.

“I knew there was a part of you that was as sick as I am,” Marc said, handing her the knife.

Lance watched her carefully out of the corner of his eye, watching as she stood up to face him with a smile on her face. It was then that he remembered exactly how good she was at what she did – she was a born actress who could play almost any part she was given, and this was no exception.

“I guess it took a while to kick in,” she said, giving him a flirty look. “Maybe after we're done here, we can clean up the mess, dump my mom in a home, and make that trip to Barbados ourselves.”

He watched her, and he could see her strategy play out brilliantly in front of him. She inched closer to him, holding both the gun and the knife in each hand as she wrapped her arms around his neck. She pulled him closer to her and grinned as she moved his lips down to her mouth, wrapping him in a sensual, seductive kiss.

It was the perfect distraction she needed to turn him around so that his back was facing Lance. Quietly and quickly, knowing he didn't have much time, he stretched his legs out until he got them right where he needed them.

It only took a swift move to kick his feet out and hook Marc's, sending him falling to the floor immediately.

Mackenzie moved out of the way, immediately placing her foot on Marc's back heavily, pointing the knife at him as Lance stood to his feet.

“Took ya long enough!” she yelled at Lance.

“Me? Took me long enough?” he asked. “I've been waiting an hour for you, pussyfooting around. And what was that slap?”

“What did you want me to do, send you flowers and call you my best friend?” she asked, handing the gun over to him. “I had to convince him that I roughed you up like I was supposed to.”

“Maybe warn me next time,” he said angrily.

“Can we do this a little later?” she yelled. “I'd like to not die right now.”

His arm tense, Lance pointed the gun down at the floor towards Marc.

“Get him up,” he said.

Addy watched on in shock as Mackenzie picked Marc off the ground and shoved him against the wall, not knowing how things had turned around so quickly.

“Go call the police,” Lance said, motioning to Mackenzie.

She paused a moment in reluctance, before handing the knife in her hand over to Lance and running out of the room.

“What are you going to do?” Marc asked with a smile as he stared in Lance's eyes and down the barrel of the gun, recovering from his fall. “Shoot me?”

“Maybe,” Lance said. “Or maybe I'll stab you with this knife and make it slow and painful. Or maybe I'll stand here and torture you for an hour like you've done to my wife, while I wait for the police to come and take your sadistic ass off to prison.”

“It doesn't matter,” Marc responded, smiling. “The damage is already done. She's in pain, Lance. Look at her.”

Lance looked over at Addy out of the corner of his eye, careful not to be completely distracted. It distressed him to see that her breathing had started racing, her eyes closed in pain, her lips pursed.

“She's in labor,” Marc said. “And it scares the hell out of you – because you know it's too soon. You know the risks. You're walking in my shoes now. You may have the upper hand – but I've done exactly what I came to do.”

“Don't listen to him, baby,” Addy finally said, breathing through the pain. “I'm fine.”

“She's not fine,” Marc said. “She's hurting right now – and you know that if you kill me, you'll hurt her even worse. You don't want her to see that.”

He felt his anger rise, and instinctively he pressed the gun further into Marc's temple.

“Lance, I'm okay,” she said. “Really. Do what you have to do.”

“You can't do it,” Marc whispered. “You won't do it. You're far too much of a chickenshit to do it.”

“You...shut up,” Lance growled, feeling his hands start to shake.

“Lance, focus on me,” Addy said.

He turned to her, holding the gun still at Marc's head.

“Do what you have to do,” she said. “You won't hurt me. I love you.”

He pursed his lips together and turned back to look at Marc, who smirked at him. He wanted to shoot him...he wanted to put an end to everything that he had gone through with this man and what he had put up with for two years. He had broken into his apartment; he had trashed his car; he had stolen the love of his life away from him, not to mention stalked and harassed him, twice already. He had finally reached his breaking point after staying so collected about the entire situation, and he wanted more than anything to end it.

He squeezed down on the trigger slightly, feeling his hands shake even more. The feel of the gun in his hand...he had hunted before, but this was different. He held this man's life in his hands, and with one squeeze of the trigger, he could take it away.

He grunted in frustration.

“I can't do it, Addy,” he said, lowering the gun.

It only took a moment. He had only taken a step away, and had glanced up at his wife to connect eyes with her. In the split second that it took, he saw her eyes go wide. Then he heard the scream, the sound of his name come out of her mouth, full of fear...and then he felt the arm wrap around him, bending him so that his back was against Marc's chest and the gun was ripped from his hands.

“Never take your eye off the ball,” Marc growled in Lance's ear. “You made a fatal mistake, pop star...and now you're gonna pay.”

Adeline watched in horror as Marc pushed him to the ground and held the gun towards him.

“Say goodbye,” he said, looking at her.

It was when Adeline heard the gun fire that she cried out – closing her eyes quickly. If she couldn't see it, it wasn't real. He wasn't dead. Lance couldn't be dead.

“Guess I didn't forget to put the bullets in my gun,” Mackenzie said, holding the gun she had fired towards Marc's body, collapsed on the floor. “Bastard.”

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“Look directly into the light for me, please.”

Lance held the ice pack to his eyebrow, the cold causing shooting pains through it. He blinked a few times as he looked directly into the bright, tiny flashlight that the EMT was holding up to him.

“You can't stay out of trouble, can you?” the man said with a smile.

Lance smiled back, looking at the same EMT who had shown up to check him over the morning after the fire.

“It would help if I didn't have people trying to kill me every time I turned around,” Lance replied.

“Well, we all hope for that,” the man said. He lowered his flashlight after looking in both of Lance's eyes, placing it in his breast pocket. “She got you pretty good. Looks like you might have a slight concussion, but I wouldn't worry about it too much. How does your head feel?”

“Like I was run over a few times by a Mack truck and then run through a trash compactor.”

“Sounds normal to me,” the EMT said with a smile. “I'll tell you this – you were lucky. People waving guns around all over the place and you came out with hardly a scratch. Looks like you have a guardian angel on your shoulder.”

Lance smiled, even though he felt like dirt.

“You can load up on Tylenol for the pain. No more than three every six hours – or I'll be coming back for a third time with my stomach pump, my friend.”

“Bring beer, we'll barbecue,” Lance said, and the EMT chuckled.

“I hope I'm invited,” Detective Abrams said as he walked up to the two of them.

“For all I've been through, I'll hold a barbecue for the entire NYPD,” Lance said. “How is she?”

“Mackenzie's pretty shaken up,” he replied. “She broke immediately. Told us everything. He figuratively and literally had a gun to her head, playing her like a puppet the whole time. I don't think she would have done any of this if it weren't for him.”

“What's going to happen to her?” Lance asked.

“We're gonna work out a deal,” Abrams said. “Physically he barely touched her, but mentally he took her to the cleaners. I don't think she would be found competent to stand trial. I can't promise anything until I talk to the DA and her lawyer, but my guess is that any time she serves, it will be in a mental hospital – it'll be the best place for her right now.”

“What about her mom?”

“She'll be well taken care of,” he said. “It was a wonderful thing you did, offering to pay for a full-time, in-home nurse. I don't think we would have gotten a confession out of her so easily without you.”

“She did save my life, after all,” Lance responded. “If it weren't for her, you'd be dragging me out of here in a body bag instead of Marc.”

“I'm just glad it's over for you,” Abrams said. “I'm sure you echo that sentiment.”

“More than you know,” Lance responded.

When both of them went silent, they caught the tail end of a discussion between the two paramedics, turning to look at both of them.

“We've done everything we can to stop it,” one of them said. “But she's already at about 6 centimeters.”

“Okay, we'll have to transfer. Go ahead and get everything ready.”

“What's going on?” Lance asked, looking at the paramedic who had helped him. “Where's Addy? What's wrong?”

“We're going to have to transfer your wife to the hospital,” he said. “She's in labor and we've been unsuccessful at stopping it.”

“Where is she?” Lance shrieked, immediately standing up off the couch. “Is she okay?”

“Relax,” the paramedic said with a smile, grabbing Lance's arm to gently push him back down. “Watch that head injury there. She's still in the early stages so there's no need to become a maniac yet.”

“But it's too soon,” Lance said.

“It's a little earlier than we like but it's best for her and the baby,” he said. “Your wife has developed something known as gestational hypertension. Her blood pressure is too high and it could put her at risk for pre-eclampsia. Does she get stressed easily?”

Lance stared blankly, stifling a chuckle. “Clearly you don't know my wife. Easily is not the word.”

“Well, with everything she's been through today, I'm not surprised she's in labor,” the paramedic said. “We're transferring her to Beth Israel, but the ambulance will be full and you'll have to follow us.”

“I'll give you a ride,” Abrams said. “With a dead body in your house, a head injury, and a wife who stressed herself into labor, I think you're in no position to drive.”

“Alright, we'll be ready to go in about five,” the paramedic responded before walking away.

“This is all happening so fast,” Lance said. “My head is spinning.”

“Well, that could be the concussion,” Abrams said with a chuckle. “Come on superstar. Let's end this day on a positive note and go have your baby.”

Chapter 38 – Almost Perfect

Adeline slowly opened her eyes, her sight blurry still. Her eyelids fluttered a few times before the room started to clear up. It felt like she had been asleep for hours, but the first thing she saw when her eyes adjusted was the analog clock on the wall that said it was only nine in the morning.

She sighed, bleary from the medicine still, and lowered her head on the pillow to see Lance sitting next to her in a recliner, his eyes closed. She smiled; it still amazed her that he could sleep anywhere sitting up. She had seen pictures of him sleeping the same way when he was touring with the group. He could sleep sitting on couches, in airplane seats...she suspected all five of them could sleep standing up if they needed to, but she hadn't seen it in action yet.

“Lance,” she said, but it came out as a whisper since her throat was dry and scratchy. She lifted her arm from her side, being careful of the IV still attached to her, and reached over as far as she could to brush against his arm. “Lance.”

He stirred and opened his eyes, tired but trying to stay awake because of his injury, looking over at her and smiling.

“Hey,” he whispered. “You're awake.”

“How long did I sleep?” she asked, her voice still coming out dry.

“Only a couple of hours.” He stood up and immediately reached over to the table next to her to pour her a glass of water, handing it to her. “You must be exhausted.”

She took a drink, her throat immediately feeling better as the water slid down her throat. She was still tired, not having slept all night and her energy being drained, but she only had one concern and it wasn't more sleep.

“Where is he?”

He sighed, sensing a note of concern and panic still left over in her voice, but he smiled.

She watched him silently walk away from her and over to the bassinet on the other side of the bed. She hadn't noticed it in the few moments she had been awake, only looking at him. She watched as he carefully reached in with both hands and lifted up the rolled up blanket.

“There you go,” he whispered as he placed the bundle in the crook of his elbow, looking down. “Let's go see mama.”

It didn't register for her as he walked over to her right side carrying it, even as he said “mama” and stared down with an admiration that she had never seen on his face before – even when he looked at her. It wasn't until he reached her bedside and she saw a tiny head with a blue hat that the feelings started.

He leaned down and put the entire blanket in her arms, as he had held it in his. The minute she felt weight and warmth and her eyes laid sight on the small face in front of her, she felt the full gravity of it hit her.

“Meet Liam Aiden, mom,” he said with a smile.

She had gotten to hold him right after he had been born, but there had been too many other elements going on for her to remember much; exhaustion after a full night of labor, pain, medicine, a room full of staff, and enough panic and anxiety – from both her and Lance – to render anyone useless. All she knew from those moments was that he was outside of her body, but he wasn't real to her yet. She had spent too long – two years on top of the eight months she was pregnant – convincing herself that he wasn't real.

But the minute she stared at his mouth, his nose, and the brown eyes, it hit her all at once, like being hit by a truck.

“Oh my God,” she said. It only came out as a whisper as she felt the tears start to well up. “Look at him.”

“That's all I've done while you slept,” he said, finding a space to sit next to her in the hospital bed.

“He's...”

She couldn't speak as her mouth trembled and tears started to roll down her cheeks.

“Beautiful?” he asked, smoothing a stray piece of hair away from his son's ear.

“No,” she said, fighting her tears. “He's real.”

She felt him nod, but neither of them spoke for several minutes. She spent it all with a range of emotions. Even with tears in her eyes, she couldn't stop staring at him, his eyes closing sleepily from being wide open at first. Every part of him was perfect, from the thin layer of dark blonde hair on his head to the chubby cheeks, down to the tiny fingers with even smaller fingernails that grasped Lance's finger.

And then for a few moments, she had to turn her head away from him and bury it into Lance's neck. She let fear take her over – fear that a nurse would come in and take him from her arms and tell her it was all a mistake, or that she would turn her head back to him and he would be gone.

“It's okay,” he whispered into her ear as he felt her tears against his skin. “He's not going anywhere.”

After being with her for most of the years after her miscarriage, and through her pregnancy and every kick and tiny concern, he finally understood her fears. He understood them more than he wanted to, because they were his as well. He had to spend some time after he was born and while she was sleeping convincing himself that his son was really here, and not going to be taken away from them.

“My mom is on a plane right now,” he said as she turned her head back to look at the baby. “Chris and Mel are coming back from Pennsylvania this morning and offered to pick her up from the airport. She should be here in a few hours – and the first thing she's going to want to do is hold him.”

“I don't think I can let him go,” she said honestly.

“Not even to me?” he asked with a smile.

“You'll have to fight me for him,” she said, chuckling through her tears.

“I guess I can share,” he said.

Within a few minutes, they both did have to let go – first to Joey and Kelly who stopped by for a quick visit. Over the next few hours, nurses and the doctor came through the room on their rounds, and during the quieter moments she grabbed a few naps.

While she napped after lunch, Chris arrived with Diane. Chris said hello to Lance, but quickly left the room to grab a cup of coffee and give them some privacy. She immediately went to Lance's side as he held the baby in the chair, taking a seat on the arm. After a quick look, she put her arm around him.

“I'm so glad you're safe, honey,” she said. “Your dad and I were so worried that something bad was going to happen to you and Adeline, or the baby.”

“I was only ever worried about her and Liam,” he said. He had taken off the hospital hat and ran his hand lightly down the baby's head. “It's weird. I mean, she's proven to me time and time again that she's capable of taking care of herself – and that meant she could take care of him, too.”

“That's not weird,” she said. “You love her. And no matter what age your child is, he'll always be your baby.”

She ran a finger over Liam's cheek, and they both smiled when his mouth moved in response.

“You don't ever want to see him get hurt, get sick, or have his heart broken. You can keep him safe for a little while because he can't do anything on his own. But then he'll start walking and he'll fall and bump his head. And that will heal after a while, but then his cousin will whack him over the head with a broom.”

He laughed along with her, remembering the accident he'd had when he was a kid that left him with the scar on his eyebrow.

“Liam will start school and then he'll think he can do anything,” she continued. “He'll think he's all grown up and he doesn't need you anymore. One day he'll be out riding his bike and not wear his knee pads like his mom tells him to, and he'll scrape a knee. Then all of a sudden, he needs you again.”

He looked over at his mother, who smiled down at the baby, as if she was remembering something fondly.

“Then before you know it, he will be all grown up. He'll go off and get married, have his own family, and then he doesn't need you anymore.”

“I still need you mama,” he said. “I have no idea how to do this on my own.”

“Oh sweetie,” she said with a smile. “Yes you do – but that's exactly what a mother wants to hear right now.”

He smiled back at his mother, but he couldn't be sure she was right. He had never been a father before. He had absolutely no experience at it, and he couldn't rely on instinct – what if he had none? His father was so good at it, and he wanted to live up to that.

“Now,” she said, distracting him, “I only have a week to stay with you guys, and I'm wasting it away. Give me that baby.”

He laughed and stood up from the chair so his mother could sit down, and handed Liam over to her. She took him with experience, cradling him close to her.

“Get out of here,” she said when she got comfortable, using her hand to swat him on his thigh. “Go get food or something. We'll be fine here.”

He didn't want to leave the room in case Adeline woke up while he was gone and got worried, but he knew that his mother would only be more persistent if he didn't. So instead of resisting, he leaned down to kiss her on the cheek.

“I love you, mom. Thanks for being here.”

“I love you too,” she said, returning the kiss on his cheek. “Now get out of here.”

He chuckled but instead of heading straight for the door, he walked a few steps over to the bed where Addy was still asleep. He leaned down and pushed her bangs away from her eyes and kissed her forehead.

“And I love you,” he whispered before he walked away.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Baby!”

Lance winced as he heard the shrill shriek in his ear.

“Shhhh,” he whispered loudly at Mel, holding his index finger up to his mouth. “Sleeping baby.”

“Sorry,” she whispered back. “Baby!”

Lance, Addy and Chris all chuckled softly as she rushed over, sitting next to Lance on the couch.

“Give me that baby,” she said, immediately launching into baby talk when Lance shook his head and gently placed the baby in her arms.

“Did you have fun in Pennsylvania?” Addy asked from her bed.

Melissa went on, cooing at the baby, as if she didn't hear the question.

“I guess not,” Lance said to Chris with a chuckle.

“I've been pushed out of the picture by a twenty-one inch human being who can't chew food and smiles when he farts,” Chris said. “But hey, it's all good.”

Lance laughed. “Hey, maybe you should have one of your own.”

Addy smiled at Lance when they both saw Chris's panic-stricken face.

“Don't have a heart attack, Kirkpatrick,” Lance said. “They don't have a crash cart on the maternity floor.”

“You're funny,” Chris responded. “Tell me Lance, how was your Thanksgiving? Do anything fun?”

“Oh, you know,” Lance responded casually. “My parents got in about noon on Thanksgiving Day. We had some delicious homemade turkey with all the trimmings. Then we had dessert and wine – except for Addy, because...well, you know.”

Addy nodded.

“Then we enjoyed a weekend of watching the snow fall down and sitting by the new fireplace, enjoying each others company,” Lance continued. “Oh, and then Addy's crazy ex-husband broke into our house, tied us up, and nearly killed us. Overall...typical holiday weekend.”

Addy chuckled. “If we didn't laugh about it, I think we'd cry.”

“I'm so sorry I wasn't here,” Melissa said to Addy, her attention finally breaking away from the baby.

“I was lucky,” Addy responded. “Lance knew something was wrong and came home. If he hadn't come home...”

“Say it,” he said, smiling at Addy.

She rolled her eyes. “For once, he knew better than I did. There, I said it.”

“You heard it,” Lance said, pointing at Chris.

“And he'll never hear it again,” Addy said.

“Your eye looks rough,” Chris said, looking at the cut on Lance's eyebrow.

“Doctor said he doesn't have a concussion, but he sure knocked something loose up there,” Addy said.

“He's assuming that Lance had something up there to knock loose to begin with.”

Lance narrowed his eyes at Chris. “I thought it was tradition to hand out cigars at the birth of a new baby, not sarcastic remarks.”

An hour later, Addy had fallen asleep again. Mel had pulled herself away from the baby long enough to head down to the cafeteria for a coffee, and Chris was sitting next to Lance on the couch, looking over his shoulder as he held his son.

“You wanna hold him?” he asked, looking up at Chris with a smile.

“No way,” Chris said. “He's tiny. I'll break him.”

“If I haven't broken him by now, neither will you.”

Chris protested, but Lance maneuvered the baby into his arms anyway.

“Whoa,” Chris said the minute Lance let go and he realized he was holding a tiny human being on his own. “Just...whoa.”

“Yeah,” Lance said, brushing his hair back with his hand. “I know. It's pretty amazing, right?”

“Dude, you're a dad,” Chris said, staring at Liam. Suddenly, he felt almost in a trance. “How did that happen?”

Lance only laughed in response.

“I remember when you were this lanky, dorky sixteen-year-old kid with a bad haircut...it's hard to believe that was eighteen years ago.”

“God, it has been eighteen years, hasn't it?” Lance said. “Wow.”

“You ever miss it?” Chris asked.

Lance narrowed his eyebrows. “What...NSYNC?”

“Yeah,” Chris said.

“I don't know, what is there to miss?” Lance asked. “Touring all over the world? Never having time for your family? The horrible plastic clothes they used to put us in? Or my bad dancing?”

“There was good stuff too,” Chris said.

“I miss it every day of my life,” Lance said, and Chris looked up to meet his eyes. “The touring, the performing, the rush, the show. You know, you think when you're up there, and you feel the lights that are about a million degrees beating down on you, and you're sweating through your shirt, and your legs feel like Jello because you've been dancing for hours...you think all you want to be doing is sitting at home in your pajamas with your family watching TV. You'd give anything to be doing that, to have a break from it. But when it's gone...you miss it like hell.”

“I think we've officially gone crazy,” Chris said.

“Since Addy came along, I miss it even more,” Lance said. “I've got everything I want finally – there's only one thing that would make it perfect.”

“The love of a woman will do that to you,” Chris said. “Put things into perspective. I wish I had that.”

Lance looked up when he heard the door open, and smiled as Mel stepped back into the room, a blue and white stuffed sock monkey in her hand. She smiled at both of them.

“You do,” he said, his eyes cutting to Chris.

Epilogue – Take Back The Night

Mid-August 2013 – Nine months later

Adeline barely felt herself slipping off to sleep, Lance's arms wrapped tightly around her waist, when the muffled cry came from down the hall. It took a couple of seconds before she felt him stir and she groaned herself.

“Don't worry,” he whispered, kissing her shoulder. “I'll get him.”

Her eyes still closed, she groaned again in response. She felt him throw the covers off himself and step out of the bed, walking out of the room and down the hallway.

She was about to fall asleep again when the shrill ringtone from Lance's phone came from the table beside his bed.

“Oh, you're kidding me,” she moaned.

She turned over and reached across his side of the bed to grab it. She looked at the caller ID with a single eye open, which she raised when she saw the name across the screen.

“Justin?” she questioned when she lifted it to her ear. Lance walked into the room at that exact moment, holding Liam to his chest and shoulder with a bottle in his hand.

“Mamasita!” Justin exclaimed. “You normally answer 'Lance's phone, it's Addy'. What's up? Are you slacking off on the job?”

“Justin, are you high?” she responded, getting Lance's attention. “Do you know what time it is? It's--” She looked over at her table to read the screen on the clock. “Fuck, Justin, it's almost one in the morning.”

“Oh, so what, you clock out at midnight or something?” he joked. “Is that when the assistant clocks out and the wifely duties begin?”

He said it suggestively, and she could imagine him furrowing his eyebrows – she rolled her eyes at the thought.

“If I could reach through the phone and strangle you right now, I would,” she said. Lance raised his eyebrows but only smiled and turned away, swaying along with the quiet baby.

“I like a feisty woman,” Justin said. “A bit violent, but maybe I could get into that dominant-submissive, Fifty Shades shit.”

“Justin, what do you want?”

“Is Lance there?” he asked, his laughter dying down.

“It's your lucky day,” she said to Lance, holding the phone out to him. “Trade me – phone for baby?”

“Seems to me like you get the better end of that deal,” he said as he walked over to her side of the bed.

“Tell him I heard that,” Justin said, and Adeline smiled as Lance handed the baby off to her gently and she handed him the phone.

“Is there a cut-off time for you being annoying?” Lance said when he put the phone to his ear. “Maybe eleven? Midnight?...Yeah, well can there be?”

Adeline placed Liam, almost back to sleep already with the bottle in his mouth, next to her in the space between her and Lance's sides, preparing to lay back down herself.

“I'm afraid to ask you what kind of favor you would call me for at one in the morning,” he finally said. He paced around the room as she laid her head back down, relaxing into the pillows. “You want to what?”

She watched him turn toward her but remain looking away from her. Even though there was little light, her eyes had adjusted to the dark and she could see the various faces he was making.

“Wow, Justin, I...I don't know what to say,” he said. “Have you talked to the others about this?”

She closed her eyes again to try to sleep, but after a few seconds of curiosity, she opened one back up to look at him.

“So it's happening, then?...Hell yeah! I mean, what day?...Shit, what day is today?...Dude, you woke me up at one in the morning. No, I don't know what day it is.”

She couldn't help but let a giggle escape her lips.

“August 25th? I think...no, I don't know.” He moved the mouthpiece away from him and looked over at her. “Am I free next week?”

She opened her closed eye to look at him. “He woke me up at one in the morning, too. I don't sleep with my appointment book, you know.”

“She makes a good point,” Lance said, speaking back into the mouthpiece. “I'm sure I can move things around...No, the radio show will be fine, it's only a week, right?...A secret? It's radio Justin, it's not like it will be obvious.” Lance chuckled and was silent for a few seconds, listening. “Cool, I'll get it scheduled. Just one question...did you have to call about this at one in the morning?”

By then, Addy was too tired to be interested in whatever get-together Lance and Justin were planning together. With the baby already back to sleep and her eyes closed, she felt herself drift off back to sleep.

She didn't know how long it took, but she felt Lance sink back into bed and lay down, being careful to avoid Liam in the middle of them.

“Hey Ad?” he said.

“What?” she mumbled, half-asleep.

“Wanna go to the VMAs?”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After seeing the beginning of the frenzy and the results of what one little slip of a rumor from a rather idiotic former MTV intern could do, the boys had only one intent...to yank their fans' chains as much as they could.

It started that Tuesday, with Lance. Of course they weren't supposed to say anything revealing about it, because they all wanted it to be a “moment”. But after a few hours, Lance's Twitter, Instagram and Facebook had been so overrun with comments and mentions from the fans asking about the rumors of the reunion that Addy thought he needed to say something about it – something non-committal and non-confirming, perhaps an outright denial. When he had posted the “Rumors” music video with a witty little message to go with it, all she could do was roll her eyes at him. She knew what would happen.

And when that's exactly what did happen – fans jumping down his throat for being completely vague and yet transparent at the same time – she decided to give him one more chance to lead the fans astray and preserve their secret. A couple hours later, between rehearsals, she told him to say something else, something better. After he did much the same thing and had much the same reaction from the fans, she took his phone away – he wasn't to be trusted with this sort of thing, obviously.

But after a couple more days, she saw the rumors grow, the fan reactions getting better, and how much fun the boys were having with it. They even attained the official Twitter account back – and only then did she give Lance the rights to his phone back and let him Twitter-tease the fans to his heart's content.

“Mic check, mic check, one, two...is this thing on?”

It was Justin and Lance's original idea, spurred on by the other boys. It made the fans go nuts. And that's when they came up with the “great plan” for their intro.

As the lights went down on the Barclay's Center and the video intro started playing on the screen in front of them, she smiled from her place in the audience. She had watched as they filmed it, but had no idea how they ended up editing it and fitting it all together, so it was almost as big of a surprise to her as it was to everyone in the crowd – and everyone at home watching.

When the camera focused on Joey coming out of a Brooklyn Starbucks in his faded “Brooklyn” t-shirt and baseball hat, the first reaction in the crowd was confusion. He kept his eyes down as if he had no clue the camera was there, holding his coffee in hand. He briefly looked up at the camera and broke out into a smile, before pointing at the camera with two fingers and saying the phrase she would never forget him saying.

“Yo Brooklyn, represeeeeent!”

The crowd, although still confused, broke out into a flurry of screams that made Melissa and Addy laugh out loud as JC came up on the screen.

Standing right in front of the iconic Madison Square Garden in his “I heart NY” t-shirt, he did a little dance for the camera before breaking out singing four infamous words from their concert at the same venue, thirteen years before.

“You're all I ever...”

The screen went black as the four beats of music took them seamlessly into seeing Chris, who stood in front of the Empire State Building in the same Manhattan borough, wearing his “Manhattan” t-shirt and sunglasses. The camera started at a high angle to look at him from above before panning down to an almost-floor level angle, showing most of the tall building as he sang the next five words.

“So tell me what to...”

The screen went black again with the next four beats of the song before it went up on Lance, sitting on a bench in Central Park in his own New York themed t-shirt and sunglasses, looking down at the ground. There was no music, and the venue was almost quiet, surely from the confusion of attendees – until Lance looked up at the camera, briefly smiled, and started singing his opening harmony to the song as he stood up.

The camera slowly panned out to view more of the park and Lance stepped into his place on the far right, and Chris, Joey, and JC all stepped from off-screen into their places in their most common “V” formation. Each one contributed their own opening harmony as they walked in before finally, Justin stepped into frame with his contribution, directly front and center of the camera.

“I want you back...”

The screen went completely black again and as the red lights went up on the stage to silhouette Justin and his band, Addy smiled to herself. She couldn't imagine what the fans at home watching could be thinking. The internet had built up and nearly burst at the seams for a week with rumors, speculations, and excitement, especially after Joey had been cornered by TMZ and had been the only one to say “no” outright. The “would it happen or wouldn't it” questions had driven them crazy all week, and it had been a brief minute-long video of the guys, no in-person appearances at all, not what you could even call a real reunion – and now it was over.

“I'm bringin' sexy back...”

At least, that's what the boys wanted them to think.

As Justin ran through the next eight minutes of his generous fifteen minute setlist, Addy didn't even want to think of how many pissed off tweets Lance would be getting at that moment. She was sure that fans were glued to their TVs, computers, and phones at the same time, waiting to share their joy with their entire friends list in the event that it really did happen.

“Got time, but I don't mind...”

As Justin went into singing “Rock Your Body”, Addy glanced over to notice Mel dancing, shaking her hips with her arms in the air, emulating Justin's dancers. Mel looked over at her and both of them shared a laugh as Addy joined her in dancing. She wouldn't think about the messages and tweets; she would just have fun. By the end of the night, it wouldn't matter anyway.

“Gonna have you naked by the end of this song...”

As Justin and the dancers he had up on the stage with him broke out the funky dance number with equally as funky music, and the beats and the dancers all slowed down to a crawl while Justin slowly disappeared off the stage to the opening music of “Pusher Love Girl”, Addy and Mel both felt their stomachs jump and grinned at each other.

This was the boys' “moment”.

“You asked for it...”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“After-party at Adeline's...”

A drunk Justin swaggered through the door following behind Lance and Adeline, who held Liam against her hip. Melissa and the other boys followed quickly behind him through the door. The celebrity after-parties had grown tired for them and after a party with Justin and his whole crew at a sports bar he had picked out, whoever was left standing – or stumbling, in Justin's case – decided to come back to Lance and Addy's house for a more intimate get-together.

“Adeline. Addy. Ad.” Justin giggled as he drew out her nicknames. “You have a funny name.”

Addy rolled her eyes. “Justin, go home. You're drunk.”

“He's staying with us, remember?” Lance asked. “He is home – unfortunately.”

“As long as he doesn't try to give another acceptance speech,” Melissa said. “I wanted to throttle him after the last one.”

“You guys,” Chris said, breaking into a convincing fake cry. “My bandmates...my brothers that I abandoned to have a solo career.” Everyone laughed except Justin, who watched Chris with glossy eyes. “I'm so glad you took the time out of your busy schedules to let me steal the spotlight from you again. When I go back to my own life tomorrow and forget to call you for another three months, just know...” Chris wrapped his arm around Lance's shoulder and tightly grasped him in a hug, pretending to sob into his shoulder. “...I love you guys.”

“Hey,” Justin said, one finger pointed at Chris. “Wasn't like that, man. Wasn't like that at all.”

“Yeah, Chris,” JC said. “It wasn't like that. J had to go on a mission to bring sexy back.”

“Where was sexy hiding for so long, J?” Chris asked.

“Forget you guys,” Justin said. He walked away from the group and behind the bar in the dining room. He reached under the counter, grabbing a bottle and pulling it up. “Me and my vodka will go where we're appreciated.”

“Oh no,” Addy said as she handed Liam off to Lance quickly and reached for the bottle in Justin's hand. When she pulled it away from him and took it back underneath the bar, he pouted. “Last call for you was an hour ago, back at the party Justin. You've had plenty.”

“Your wife is a buzzkill,” Justin said, pointing his finger in Lance's face before walking away from them, to lay face down on the couch.

“He's going to pass out right there,” Lance said to Adeline as she walked up to him.

“At least he can't hurt himself.” She took Liam from his arms and placed him back on her hip. “The sixth member of 'NSYNC has to be exhausted, I'm going to put him down and go to bed myself. After-parties aren't my thing. Try to keep the volume down?”

“I'll try,” he said with a smile, running a hand over his tired son's hair. “Get some sleep. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she said, kissing him. “You guys were great tonight.”

“We were, weren't we?”

She smiled at him before walking up the stairs and disappearing with the baby at the top.

“Hell of a night,” Chris said as Lance came walking over to join them around the living room.

“Hell of a year,” JC countered.

“Hell of a decade,” Lance said. “At least for me.”

“It was an amazing performance, Justin,” Melissa said. “One of your best ever, I'd say.”

“Well, thank you Mel,” he responded, pushing himself up from his laying down position to sit more appropriately. “It's too bad it will be one of my last ever, as well.”

The whole room stopped and all eyes rested on Justin, whose face looked troubled.

“What do you mean, J?” Lance asked. “Your last performance – ever? You would never stop performing, even if you were begging on a street corner for spare change.”

“Well, my last as a solo artist, I guess,” Justin said. “It's been ten years, I guess I'm tired of the shenanigans – being Justin Timberlake.”

“You could be like Prince,” Chris said. “Change your name to something that looks like a crop circle, tell people you were formerly known as Justin Timberlake, and ba-bam – you're an entirely different person.”

Everybody in the room chuckled, including Justin, even as he picked at a loose thread in the knee of his pants.

“No, I just mean, that's all I am,” he said. “Everybody only knows me as Justin Timberlake. Actor. Musician.”

“You can always retire,” Lance said. “From music, I mean. Direct movies instead of act in them. Play more golf. Do something different.”

“Actually, I was thinking of doing something more...in a group,” Justin said.

“Is One Direction hiring a new lead singer?” Joey asked with a smile.

“He's a little old for them. Hey, he could go on the road with Justin Bieber,” JC said.

“They could call it Justin and Justin,” Lance said, chuckling.

“Justin squared,” Chris said.

“Nah, that little twerp ain't cool enough to perform with me,” Justin said with a smile.

“Who is cool enough to perform with you?” JC asked, rolling his eyes.

“You guys are.”

The light laughter in the room stopped as all the guys turned to look at Justin, still smiling.

“Justin Timberlake said we're cool, guys,” Chris said. “We're part of the in-crowd now.”

“He probably needs four new backup singers for his new album and worldwide tour,” Lance said with a chuckle.

“Actually, it'd be nice if you guys could take back some of the spotlight.”

All four men, plus Melissa, stopped and stared.

“What are you saying, Justin?” Lance asked.

“Am I drunker than I think, or is he saying what I think he's saying?” Chris asked.

“If he is, I think I might have a heart attack right here,” Melissa said.

Justin only looked up at them with a smile.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Adeline hadn't gotten enough sleep the next morning when she woke up. She was used to attending awards ceremonies and after-parties, since she had done it a few times when she was working with different clients, going if they needed a date or because they invited her. She wasn't used to actually partying, though. The latest she had ever stayed at after-parties was around midnight. Walking in the door at three in the morning was a new feeling for her; an exhausting feeling.

She had immediately slipped out of her dress when she went upstairs to bed and changed into a tank top and shorts. The minute her head hit the pillow it felt as if she was asleep. She wasn't a party person, and she was asleep so fast that she never heard the rest of them making noise but she knew they probably stayed up several more hours. It was still only eight in the morning; she expected the rest of them to be passed out downstairs still – but she had no idea where she would find her husband.

Lance had never come to bed last night. His side of the bed was still as untouched as it had been before. It made her wonder what went down after she left the room.

She found Lance sitting at the island bar, coffee mug already in hand, not looking fresh-faced but at least alive.

“You're still up,” she said as she pulled out a mug. “Did the party get hopping last night? You never came to bed.”

“Hopping? I suppose you could say that,” he said, circling the mug's brim with a finger. He stared down into the mug as if it was a crystal ball and he was waiting for an answer.

She finished pouring her coffee and looked behind him, into the living room. It reminded her of the frat houses in the morning after huge parties in college – bodies scattered all over the place. Mel and Chris were asleep in a reclined chair, him at an angle and her curled into him, her face on his chest. JC had fallen asleep on the floor, right next to Joey. Justin was still chest-down on their couch, in a stereotypical drunk pose – one arm slung off, his entire body spread out, with mouth wide open.

“Wow,” she said with a smile, taking in the sight as she sipped. “The thought that comes to mind is Liam in a milk coma after his bath – except Justin is bigger, and it's more like good bourbon coma. And he drools more.”

Lance laughed. “I'm surprised he held out as long as he did last night. For as drunk as he was, it was pretty impressive.”

“You mean he didn't pass out right away?”

“No, he held out a couple more hours.”

“Really?” she said, surprised. “That is impressive.”

She came to sit on his lap. He wrapped an arm around her and nuzzled his nose into her shoulder. After the chaos of the last couple of days – between rushed rehearsals and preparing for the performance – the quiet moment alone was welcome.

“What did you guys do?” she asked. “And why are you still awake? They're all out like lights.”

“Mel fell asleep around four,” he said. “The rest of us stayed up, talking. I couldn't go to sleep. I may not be able to sleep for a week.”

“Why?” she said, her interest piqued. “What's wrong? What'd you talk about?”

He looked up at her with tired but happy eyes, grinning.

“What?” she said when he didn't speak, smiling herself. “Tell me.”

His chuckle said everything – it was that laugh of his that told her he was hiding a secret and he was about to burst at the seams.

“NSYNC is getting back together,” he said. “Reuniting. For real.”