"Hey, Chuck."  After pacing outside his office for 15 minutes, I squared my shoulders, sucked in a deep breath, and marched into Chuck's office, determined to speak my piece before I lost my nerve. I faked a cheerful tone, pulled a chair out from under the desk and sat in it, then scooted to the very edge.

"Can I talk with you for a second?"

Chuck looked up from his stack of reports, yellow highlighter in one hand, a mug of coffee in the other. He set both down and folded his arms together, leaning forward onto his desk. "Sure thing. What's up?"

"Well, about this manufacturer's conference coming up, in San Francisco? Rayna told me about it and that you want me to go and-"

"Oh yeah!" He relaxed, leaning back and kicking up his feet onto the edge of the desk, the leg of his jeans riding up to reveal white tube socks tucked into worn, black steel toed boots. "Conferences are a good time to meet a lot of other people we work with. Since you're new, you should be trying to connect with some of these guys. What are you thinking of taking with you?"

"See, that's the thing, Chuck..."

I hesitated, my mind still flipping back and forth. I couldn't disappoint JC by not going to his final show, but I felt like a selfish slacker for begging off of this conference to attend a concert.

Except it's not just a concert, I told myself. So do it!

Chuck waited patiently for a few minutes before he sat up again and picked up his mug of coffee. "What's the thing, Serena?" He sipped his coffee and waited while I stammered and stalled.

"I-I uhm... well, I have sort of a family thing, that weekend. I was hoping to take that weekend off, except I didn't get the chance to ask. And I'm really sorry to have to back out of this conference but I really, really want to be a part of the uhm... family thing."

Chuck sipped on more coffee, blinked a few times, and then nodded. He seemed disappointed, but as long as I didn't have to hear the same tone from JC, it didn't matter. Taylor would be fine.

"I probably should have given you more notice," he said, slightly mumbling. Then he shrugged a shoulder and said, "I understand and that's fair. Next time." He picked up his highlighter again and flipped through a few pages of a heavily detailed computer printout. "I want us out there, though. You have a team of people, so... pick someone. Train them and send them in your place."

I was too busy feeling lightheaded and breathing a sigh of relief to answer. As fast as my legs could carry me, I left his office before he could change his mind.

That was easy.

"I told you."

Hours later, I was still riding high on a cloud of euphoria. Not even JCr3;s know-it-all teasing could bring me down. I breezed through most of my day and when the phone buzzed at 3pm I was more than happy to pick it up.

"I know, I know. You told me and you were right. What else is new?" I turned in my chair to face the window. Even though my view was mostly parking lot, I could see trees and hills just beyond buildings and pavement. I focused on them, or what I could see of them through the city smog. "What's up, sexy?"

"Drivin'," he said, over sounds of what must have been road noise or traffic. "Drivin' and talkin' to my girl. I bet you feel good, now that that's over."

"I do. I was expecting him to be mad. They've been riding my ass for the last few days about all the things I need to catch up on, still."

"You did tell them that you're not Wonder Woman, right?"

"Slipped my mind," I said, with a laugh. "I guess I'll figure it out, eventually. But speaking of being behind..."

"You have to go. But you'll be on camera for the show tonight, right?"

"Have I missed a show yet?"

"Of course not." I could hear the smile and see the flippant head shake. "I really like you being there, sort of. It was a good idea."

"Yeah, I'm glad I thought of it."

"Pretty sure the idea was mine, honey."

"You wanted to use the webcam, but for a completely different purpose. It was my idea to set it up so I could watch you sing."

"Like I said. My idea. I wanted to watch you... you know..."

I laughed quietly, thinking there must have been people in the van with him. I peeked around the high back of my chair to make sure I was still alone in my office.

"I gotta go, handsome. I feel all guilty. I'm at work and you're making me all... you know."

"Yes, I do. And me, too." A low murmur rolled through the line, something like a growl from deep in his throat. My heart beat sped up and thumped triple time in my ears. "You're my little marketing genius. You can't be all... you know... at work. Talk to you tonight, honey."

"I'll be there with bells on."

"Hey, now. We never talked about bells. Where you gonna have those bells?"

"Bye, JC."

"Aw, come on. I got a nice mental picture going--"

"I love you. Talk to you tonight."

"You could hang one off of each--"

"Joshua Scott!" I sputtered, laughing hysterically and much louder than I really wanted to.

"Fine," he said through barely controlled laughter. "Hang up. I know where you live."

I sat in for the show that night and nearly every night for the next eight performances. The highlight of my day was being able to see him and talk to him and hear the songs he'd been slaving over for so long finally be exposed to the light of day. It was like no time had passed at all, he said. It was as natural to him as breathing. I knew he'd feel that way.

The rest of life was...well... just there. Tyler's wounds and scrapes were healing nicely and he was getting around better, hobbling on a severely sprained ankle and letting Allison do everything for him. They were rarely apart and since her apartment was too small for her, a 90 pound bulldog and a cranky man on crutches, she was always at the house. I still cooked and cleaned and did laundry like always, but I was growing resentful of the extra work. And then I felt guilty because I was resentful. Doing it all, virtually alone, wasn't helping.

Six weeks didn't feel like a long time until I met JC. We went months without seeing each other, in the beginning, made better by having someone to distract me and take up time. The weeks before I had plans to see him would drag on endlessly until the time came to fly to LA, or he was on his way to Atlanta. Then the days or weeks with him would slip through my fingers, much too quickly. If I could, I would have reached into space and grabbed the hands of time to stop them from spinning. I always needed more time with him.

Now JC was on tour, working hard and distracted. Our conversations revolved around the shows, the music and his daily adventures. I talked to him every day, but it wasn't the same. I wanted him on the road singing, and in the studio making music. But I also wanted him home with me. The two sides of me warred every waking moment of every day. Something was building. I needed to hang on until JC came home.

Six weeks after I kissed him and sent him off in a 15 passenger van loaded down with music gear and luggage and sandwiches for the road, I was on the verge of seeing him again. The weeks had dragged into days until it was time and I was so excited that I didn't even mind getting on a plane for the short flight. When I arrived, I would be that much closer to him and when I went back to the airport to go home, he would be coming home with me. I couldn't wait.

The rickety, older model plane spent a total time span of one hour in the air while I fidgeted in my seat. And then before I even realized it, we were landing and I was being ushered off of the aircraft. I wandered through the Modesto County airport, finally waving down a taxi. I chuckled at myself and my slight disappointment that we weren't booked at a four star luxury resort. We would only be staying one night and JC was on a budget. And anyway, I wasn't spoiled.

Okay, I was spoiled. Just a little.

No sooner had I checked into the hotel than I was in a car and on the way to Graceada Park, home of the Mancini Bowl and a beautiful outdoor amphitheater. The day was bright and sunny, the sky cloudless, the air full with the smell of roses. It was perfect day to watch musicians work their instruments against the red-orange backdrop of the setting sun.

I pulled out a lanyard with the access pass that Eric had left for me and slipped it over my head. With it, I could walk around anywhere beyond the stage, where concert goers weren't usually allowed. I was nosy, poking my head in and out of vehicles, wandering tents and listening in on conversations until I heard loud laughter that sounded familiar. My heart skipped beats and my mouth bent into an unconscious smile as my feet moved faster toward the sound.

A single story building stood among tents and trucks, just behind the stage. People milled around the entrance, some with that ‘roadie' look about them-tattered jeans, long beards, dirty t-shirts rolled up over bulging biceps. All the same, they nodded politely as I walked past them and poked my head inside.

One side of the large gathering room was decked out with tables lined end to end, piled with a smorgasbord of sandwiches, potato chips, cookies, fried chicken, and various salads. Water, soda, canned and bottled beers were in coolers under the tables. Chairs were scattered around the concrete floor and a few closed doors at the rear of the building indicated several rooms for privacy.

A group of people, mostly men, stood in front of a table, each holding a bottle of water, paying rapt attention to a story being told from somewhere inside the crowd. The group erupted again in loud laughter, high fives were thrown around generously, backs were slapped and the low murmur of side conversations rose.

The crowd broke and in the center was a woman-young with long, wavy brown hair and brown eyes. Her lips were full and pouty with a hint of shine and she had a cute little nose. She was tall, long and lean in jeans and a sleeved shirt, a short fitted leather jacket and knee high, stiletto, shiny black leather boots. She held a bottle of water in one hand, her glossy red nails curling around the side of it, and with the other she wildly gestured, finishing her story with a flourish of movements and a husky chuckle flowing from those perfect, pouty lips.

The two were nearly touching, JC paying such close attention to her story that he hadn't noticed that the room grew quiet and all eyes - except his and hers - had turned to me. He looked bone tired, but everything about him from the scruff of beard on his face to the bright, piercing blue eyes to his casual stance with his knees locked and arms crossed reminded me of the rugged good looks and sexy demeanor that I fell in love with. Even if he hadn't even noticed I was in the room.

JC was laughing. The chesty, hearty sound bounced off of the walls of the temporary steel structure and since his was the only laugh, it must have rung back to him strangely. He blinked and looked around at the group standing around him but not looking at him or the woman telling the story. They were all looking at me.

To say I felt out of place would be an understatement. I wished I could say that I'd missed JC so badly that I didn't notice her or her hair or her lips or her nose or those boots or how ‘put together' she was. I wore jeans and a plain, long sleeved shirt under one of JCs hoodies and comfortable shoes. My hair was pulled back from my face and except for the diamonds in my ears, I was devoid of the same shine and glow that emanated from her.

I tried not to be, but I was a little bit jealous. I tried not to show it, but I couldn't get myself to smile.

"Hey you," JC said. "You survived the flight."

I nodded, slowly. Eyeing him. An eye bounced to her, uncontrollably. She hadn't moved. Neither had he. I forced my gaze back to JC and put on a smile.

"Do I get a hug, or do you not remember who I am?"

He laughed and finally stepped away from her, his arms opening wide and then closing tightly around me. The warmth of his skin radiated through his shirt as I buried my face in his shoulder. I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not... fuck. I'm crying.

"Don't cry, sweet girl. You're here. You made it."

He kept saying it, his head bent toward my ear, swaying us side to side while he rubbed my back, from my neck down to my waist and back up. The feeling was comforting, the sound of his voice, that silky smooth tenor that had been worked so hard that he was slightly hoarse, was soothing to me. It vibrated across the air with just enough added grit to ride up my spine on its way to my ears where I hadn't heard it without aid of computer or phone speakers in weeks.

I sniffled, pulling back to fan my face-- which I sensed was lobster red--to dry up the tears so I could stare at him. Someone behind me offered a handkerchief. JC took it and handed it to me and waited while I wiped my eyes and my nose. I shoved the piece of fabric into my pocket and glanced up at him.

He was smiling. Not laughing, but he seemed amused. He hooked an arm over my shoulder and guided us away from the group of people now milling around the sandwich tray.

"It's good to see you. I missed you."

"Missed you, too. I can't believe I'm here."

"Believe it, honey. These are the last two shows and then you get me all to yourself. You ready for me?"

I just laughed, since he knew my answer, and then stopped and turned to him. I cupped his face with my hands and, with all the emotion I could muster up, kissed his lips. "I missed you so much," I said, just loud enough for him to hear. "I'm so happy I could be here."

"I'm happy you're here, too. I want you to meet everybody. I've been talking about you for weeks, now."

When we turned around, the woman had disappeared. Out of sight, out of mind. For both me and JC.

*

The applause was still rumbling when JC and the band hopped off of the stage and down the steps toward the rooms at the rear of the building. Dripping in sweat, each man dropped off his instrument and went a separate way, JC included. I sat in a chair next to Eric just off-stage, with a perfect view of the show, beginning to end.

"Give him a few minutes to get cleaned up and cool off," Eric said. "He'll come back out."

I nodded and waited, listening to the promoter amp the crown back up again for Boys of Summer, who would be closing the show. Sure enough, just as the band struck up a few chords, a door opened and a calm and sated JC sauntered down the hallway and lazily dropped into the seat next to me. A few songs went by before JC leaned over and tapped my arm.

"You care about this band?" An eyebrow rose as he asked. I shook my head, no. "Wanna get outta here?"

I nodded, smiling. He read my mind.

"Me too," he said, his grin matching mine. He stood, reaching around me to tap Eric, who was engrossed in the dim light of his phone. JC tossed him a set of keys. "We're out. Tell the guys they can have the van tonight. Well catch a cab."

Eric nodded. JC grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the exit. Willingly, excitedly, I went along.

The cab dropped us at our hotel after a short ride through the town of Modesto, during which we snuggled together in the backseat, not a sliver of light between us.

"You hungry?" JC rubbed his belly as we passed the hotel restaurant and stopped to check the menu. The scent of fresh food was tempting but I was in a little bit of a hurry to be alone with him.

"I was hoping we could just do room service."

"Well, we could but we're right here," he said. He pointed at the menu and then inside the restaurant. "We could just-"

I glared at him, tightening my grasp on his arm. "JC."

He looked back at me, a sparkle in his eye and a hint of a smile spreading from the corner of his mouth. "Gotcha." He laughed, a cute little burst of evil giggles.

"I swear to God," I sighed, laughing. "I will be furious if you don't drag me upstairs. Right now."

He nodded and walked on, past the restaurant, past the front desk, toward the elevator. "I hate when you're mad at me. We can't have you furious. That's even worse."

"It is. I'm glad you remember."

A set of chimes sounded and the elevator doors slid open silently. We stepped inside and I pressed the button for the tenth floor.

"High up, just for you," he said, smirking as we climbed upward.

"You remembered that too."

"I remember a lot of stuff."

"Yeah?"

The chimes sounded again and the doors slid open, spilling us out into the hallway. I led us to the right, to our room in the corner of the floor and slid the room key through the lock. It popped open with a flash of green and a beep. We were greeted by cool air and surrounded by quiet comfort as soon as the door closed.

And then it was just the two of us. Alone, in a room, for the first time in six weeks. I almost didn't know what to do with myself. Or him.

JC came to the rescue. He smiled, took my hand and pulled me into the room and next to the bed. He sat down first and then pulled my hand so I sat next to him.

"So."

I giggled. Why was I so nervous? "So... what?"

"So... what's up?"

"You?" I glanced up at him and watched him laugh so hard his eyes disappeared.

"Uh huh. Uh huh. I see where this is headed already."

"Did you have any doubt? I haven't seen you in over a month."

"Yeah." He inhaled, sucking in a deep breath, barreling his chest. An arm rose in a stretch and then lowered to drop around my neck and pull me closer. "Been a long time."

"Mmmhmm."

He shifted so he was facing me, picked up both of my hands and closed them within his. They were warm and rough and heavy-just how I liked them. My fingers wiggled inside the cave they were trapped in and stroked the skin of his palms.

"This is kind of... awkward. Amazing that we used to do this all the time, huh?"

I heaved a sigh of relief. So it wasn't just me! "I don't know why, but I don't know what to do. I feel like it's our first time, again."

"Oh yeah," he said, nodding. He glanced up toward the ceiling, a wistful smile on his lips. "I remember that night."

"You remember lots of stuff."

"Well, I remember it was a room kind of like this." He made a sweeping motion from the door to the TV to the table in front of the large windows and the King sized bed. "I remember that we had dinner at a table just like that. And that I held your hand through half of it and you let me. I remember it was a nice night, like tonight. The sun had set but it was cold out-"

I laughed. "And my feet hurt and you massaged them for me. I thought you were crazy."

"But I was good, huh?" He waved a hand at me. "Magic fingers. They're good for more than guitars and pianos."

"They really are," I said, nodding my agreement. "What else do you remember?"

JC scooted back on the bed, and then leaned until he was laying down, pulling me so I was laying next to him. I curled up alongside him and laid my head on his chest. "I think we were about in this position. Or something like it. And we were watching a movie."

"Mmmhmm... I probably should have taken notes that night." He laughed, the sound echoing through his chest and into my ear. "You can't watch a movie without making out."

As if to prove my point, he rolled us so I was laying on my back and he was leaning over me. He dipped his head to the side, where his lips landed on my neck and fluttered down and back up. My breath caught in my throat and I shivered from head to toe. He chuckled against my skin, the vibration adding to the already nearly unbearable sensation.

"I can't help it if movies stir up the passion inside me."

"They stir up more than passion."  

My hips were on their own, doing their own dance, writhing in a self directed rhythm against an already long, firm, and warm form pressing into my thigh. His hand went to work, pushing up the hem of the hoodie and then my shirt. His fingertips brushed my skin, at first a light touch and then a desperate rubbing and kneading. A moan fell from my lips. I grabbed his arm and held on, squeezing. I pleaded with him to not stop. Don't stop.

He pushed himself up so we were face to face and lowered his lips to mine. I heard a whimper-I think it came from me. His lips, his tongue, and the slow, heady rhythm fanned the already burning flames in the pit of my stomach. I pulled and maneuvered him until I was enjoying the feeling of his weight on me, chest to toes. I ran my fingers through his hair with one hand and gripped his back with the other.  

The kiss was long and lingering, sweet and passionate. I hated for it to end but when it did, it was only to tip his head to the other side and nibble at my neck. Every cell and nerve in my body lunged toward him. I laughed, closing my eyes and relishing in the feeling. It was like being home, again.

"I remember this," I breathed.

"I knew you would," he mumbled against me. "There's something else I bet you remember."

He sat up and pulled up the bottom of his shirt. In moments it was over his head and on the floor. His jeans were unsnapped and unzipped in seconds and sliding down his legs into a heap alongside the bed. I followed his lead and pulled the hoodie and my t-shirt up over my head and slid my jeans down my legs.

JC sat in the middle of the bed, on his knees, in only a pair of boxer briefs. Staring. An unashamed, open mouthed stare.

"What?" I checked myself-my hair, my body, my bra and panties-was something wrong? "What are you looking at?"

"You. I feel like I haven't looked at you in a long time."

"Well, yeah. About-"

"I know, I know. But before that... I wasn't good to you. I was preoccupied with the tour and I wanted everything to go okay and I was nervous and I didn't know what to do with... you know..."

"Your feelings?"

"Yeah," he said, nodding. "I didn't really see until after I was gone that I couldn't get back that time that I should have spent with you. I missed you, sweetie. I really did."

I smiled and blushed and averted my gaze, shy for no reason at all. "I missed you, too."

"I know. So..." He moved so he was next to me, again and laid down, pulling me with him. "Let me make it up to you, now."

Softly and tenderly, I let him. But that was only the beginning. Then it was loud and hard and sweaty and vulgar. And then slow and painstakingly sensuous. By the time my body shuddered against his for the last time, while I convulsed around him and my lips grew dry and my throat burned, I was worn out. Drenched with sweat and trying to catch a breath, utterly happy but completely exhausted.

JC rolled back and landed next to me, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. I heard him swallow, and then swallow again, and then cough. In the darkness of the room, I only saw shadows in the moonlight, but I could hear him, loud and clear.

He was smiling.

So was I.

"You should..." I choked and coughed, rolling to my side. "You should maybe go away more often. Then we can have sex like that again."

"I know, right?" He sucked in the cool air of the room, his breaths deepening. "Careful, what you ask for, though. Just might get your wish."

"Don't be mean. This tour was long."

"Hardly," he said with a laugh. "Child's play compared to an *NSYNC tour. But I mean it. You might get your wish. They want to take a couple weeks off and do four more weeks. And they want me to come along."

Suddenly the room was stuffy. Much too warm and much too small and much too-not perfect. I sat up, reaching for the lamp. The room was bathed in an off-white pallor. I looked over at JC lying next to me, staring up at me with the most innocently pleading look in his eye. Oh, hell no.

"What did you just say?"

"Uhm..." He sat up, but only halfway, leaning on his elbows. "Well... I said..."

"I mean, I heard what you said. I heard you say you're going back out for another month. Are you serious?"

JC sat up all the way, now, folding his legs under him. He clasped his hands together in front of him and drew the corner of his bottom lip into his mouth as he nodded. "Yeah," he said after a few moments. "I said that. It's kinda what I do now, honey."

"This tour was about the label coming out to see you do some shows. Gauge your impact and popularity. So you can get a record deal and release music. Now you're all about touring? It's what you do, now? When did you decide to do this?"

"Well, the guys and I, we've been talking about it for awhile-"

"How long is awhile?"

"I don't know," he answered with a shrug. "Week or so."

"A week or so." I nodded slowly, staring him down. "You didn't want to bring up that important piece of information to me? We talk every day, JC. Several times a day. Not one of those conversations could have led to you telling me that you're leaving again?"

He closed his eyes and sighed, rubbing across the lids with his thumb and middle finger.

"You obviously think I'm being sneaky and keeping things from you, or... whatever it is you think. But I'm not. I wanted you to be here when we talked about it. I wanted you to meet everyone and see me-see us play and see how everyone works together. I wanted you to see how good it is and how I'm loving this and yeah, I want to go back out. If that's okay with you, Miss Willis."

I recoiled and gave him a long, hard stare. I bit my tongue, clamping down until what I really wanted to say wasn't on the tip of my tongue, anymore.

"Can we..." My voice shook-with what, I didn't know but I took a deep breath to control it. "It's not that I'm not happy for you. It's just... I was excited for you to be home and now I have to prepare for you to leave again and... couldn't we just get home, first? Get some time together before we have to say goodbye, again?"

"Yeah." He spoke softly but his expression said he thought I was a little crazy. I might have agreed. "We can definitely do that. Can we eat, now? Starvin'."

"Of course you are."

I opened the side table drawer and pulled out the room service menu- a 3 ring binder with a yellowed menu slipped into page protectors. I laid it between us and flipped through the plastic covered pages and called out options.  He finally decided on an order of chicken fried steak and potatoes. I ordered the same and tossed the book back into the drawer.

I kicked our piles of clothing toward the closet on the way to my suitcase, then picked it up and laid it on the bed, unzipped it, and rifled through it for something to put on.

"Uhm, JC?"

His lithe, naked form lay in the middle of the bed, one arm tucked beneath his head, his eyes closed. He grunted a sound that I took for, "what?"

"Who was that girl?"

"What girl?" My eyes flicked up toward him, but he hadn't moved.

"The one that was talking to you when I showed up. The one you were so busy staring at that you didn't see me."

"Ohhhh. That girl."

"Ohhhh." I pulled out a pair of casual lounge pants and a tank top and tossed them onto the bed. "Yeah. That girl."

"Well..." His eyes were open, his head tilted up so he could see me. "Why do you want to know who she is?"

I shrugged a shoulder. "Curious."

"Curious, why?"

I zipped my suitcase and slid it back down to the floor. With nothing to detract from his stare, I fiddled with the small pile of clothing I had laid out. JC lifted a hand and beckoned me toward him. I inched my way back around and slid onto the bed next to him.

"You were telling me why you want to know who she is."

"Why do you think I want to know? I walk into the room and find my boyfriend, who I hadn't seen in forever, mere millimeters from her. And her hair and her mouth and her eyes and her funny story and sexy voice-"

JC's chest bounced with his laughter, silent at first and then building until he was laughing so hard he almost choked.  

I elbowed him and started to sit up, again. "I don't see what's so fucking funny. You hardly noticed I was there."

"No, no, no." He grabbed me and rolled me toward him, held me near him. "Don't go. Stay here and be cute."

"Cute?" I pushed away from him and tried to get up again, to no avail. His grip on me was stronger than my will.

"Yes, cute. You're so cute when you're jealous."

"I'm not jealous!"

"Oh, honey. You're green, you're so jealous."

"Ugh. Fuck you." That only made him laugh, harder. "Seriously. Fuck. You."

"Fuck me?" He laughed, again, squeezing me close to him. "You're the jealous one. Her name is Annie. She's dating Luke. Lead singer of Boys of Summer. They're getting married next week-that's why they want to take a couple of weeks off before going back out."

I stopped fighting and laid there next to him, motionless. After a few minutes I rolled my head up so I could see his face. That same amused expression from earlier had reappeared. An eyebrow lifted and then lowered, and then he smiled.

"You know what the definition of jealousy is?"

I fought a roll of my eyes. "I'm sure you'll tell me."

"I'm sure I will. Some people think it means mistrust or insecurity." He shook his head. "It doesn't. Not to me. It means you love me so much that you don't want to lose me. And you don't want to share me. And I don't blame you."

A knock sounded at the door. I sat bolt upright and reached for my clothes. JC rolled off of the bed and headed toward the bathroom.

"Damn right you don't blame me. Like you can handle two of me."

*

"It is good to be home!"

It had been a long, warm day in Modesto, followed by the last concert of the tour, after which we still had to pack up and board the plane to LA. We landed shortly before midnight and by the time we pulled into the garage it was nearly 2am. We were both ready to be home.

JC threw the door open and tossed his bags into the house. I followed behind him, walking slowly as he kicked a suitcase and a duffel bag toward the laundry room.

"I'm leaving these right here."

"Great. I think I'll let Maggie actually do your laundry this time."

"Nuh uh," he said turning around. "Do you remember the shitstorm you created about doing my laundry? No, no," he said, waving a finger in my face. "Welcome to the post-tour mountain of laundry. You don't get to pass it off, now. She's not your lackey."

I glared and pushed his hand away. "Maybe not, but I'm your lackey. And I'm not passing it off. I'm delegating. Would you just go upstairs?"

JC obeyed, heading up the steps to the main landing, then turning and climbing the stairs all the way to the bedroom where, after kicking his shoes off, he finally landed on the bed. I wormed my way next to him, scooting as close as humanly possible and laying my head on his chest so his heartbeat was under my cheek. I smiled at the sensation and the sound.

"It's good to have you home," I mumbled before a yawn overtook me.

"You tired?" I felt him patting my back, the warmth of him seeping through my blouse. "I don't know why. We got plenty of sleep last night." He chuckled as I laughed.

"Not quite, mister. The only thing better than sex after a fight is sex after you've been gone forever."

"Might be the best thing about touring. Maybe round two later on?"

I chuckled, my head in a fog and drifting toward sleep as JC reached for the TV remote. "Maybe."

"Definitely."

"Maybe."

"Possibly?"

"Maybe."

Sleep won. I fell into the deepest, most peaceful sleep I'd had in a long time. JC was the magic bullet, his body warm and comforting, his arm around me, his steady breaths in and out while I rode his chest and listened to his heartbeat.

I awoke alone, but around the bedroom were pieces of JC. His wallet, keys and loose change were on top of the dresser, his jeans were crumpled in front of the closet where he must have stepped out of them, his shoes lined up neatly next to each other on his side of the bed, the scent of him lingering in the air. I took a deep breath, sniffing him. JC would say that was ridiculous and I might agree with him, so I rolled out of bed and headed toward the bathroom.

My morning ritual complete, I pulled on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and set out in search of him. His wallet and keys were home, so he had to be, too. Quiet tapping sounds led me to his office. He was posted in front of his laptop, a mug of coffee in one hand, clicking away at the keyboard with the finger of the other.

His office, as he described it, was an organized mess. Piles and piles of books and notebooks and folders and CDs lay everywhere, covering the surface of his desk, but he claimed to know what each and every piece of paper meant and where to find anything he was looking for. One wall was lined with bookshelves, full of art and music history books that were scattered between plaques and statues and framed pictures. Other than the desk, the bookcase and the chair he sat in, his office was very basic. He kept the interesting, expensive objects in the studio.

I tiptoed into the office, stepped beside him and wrapped my arms around his neck, dropping a kiss on his cheek.

"Mmm," he growled. "You smell good. Did you just shower?"

"Nope. I smell this good all the time."

He laughed. "Yeah, me too. I always smell good." He flinched, arching away from me as my teeth closed on the skin of his neck. "What are you doing?"

"Taking a bite. Are you hungry? I'll make you some pancakes."

He smiled, rolling his chair away from the desk. "Yeah. We haven't had a nice Sunday together in awhile."

"I know," I said, grinning down at him. I tousled his hair and lightly scratched his scalp, letting them drag from the top of his head to his neck and back up. He shivered and laughed and then grabbed me by the waist and pulled me down to his lap.

"Can I get a kiss first, though?"

I nodded, lifting my face to him, meeting his lips in a slow, lazy graze before he opened his mouth and his tongue came out to play. Gentle, loving strokes across my lips, then a deep, open mouthed moan-producing kiss made my heart flutter and my insides melt. The kiss ended with a sigh, with JC leaning his forehead on mine, with his eyes closed and his breathing accelerated. Maybe he was trying to keep up with my heartbeat.

"Love you," he whispered, so low almost didn't hear it. But I did.

"You too." I stole one last kiss and stood up. "Pancakes. I will prove my love for you with pancakes."

He laughed. "I was really just trying to get you to make me some pancakes when I said that."

"I know," I said, walking out of his office. Over my shoulder I tossed, "I was really just pretending to fall for it!"

I relished my time in the spacious kitchen, happy to be cooking for him, again. Tyler had hobbled his way over to Allison's for the weekend so it was just the two of us, quiet and cozy on a late Sunday morning. We ate in the den while flipping through morning news and bad cable movies and sipped on hot coffee, tangled up in each other. JC fell asleep, so I got up and stacked our plates and mugs together and left the room to clean up the kitchen.

When I came back, he was awake again, flipping through a small, thick book.

"Whatcha readin'?" I plopped next to him, prepared to reclaim my spot under his arm.

"I found this book on the table over here," he said, nodding his head to the left. "Looks like an apartment guide. Tyler must be thinking about moving in with Allison. It's about time."

I gulped and choked back a strangled cough. He wasn't supposed to find that. I wasn't ready to talk about that, yet.

"None of these places will be big enough for the two of them and her dog, though. He's just looking at one and two bedrooms. He needs at least a three-"

JC glanced at me and what must have been my odd expression and tilted his head. "What?"

"Uhm..." I took the book from him, flipping a few pages. "Nothing. Just... this isn't Tyler's."

"Whose is it? Allison's?" His eyes narrowed. "She must have left it here, or something. Right?"

"No," I said, slowly shaking my head.

"So... I mean..."  His eyes widened as realization hit him. "You're looking at apartments?"

I shrugged. "Not really looking. Just researching options."

"Researching?" He grabbed the book and flipped through it, noting the pages I had marked with post-it flags. "You went so far as to mark pages. That's pretty serious research. So, you're moving out?"

I didn't answer for a few seconds, but I couldn't avoid the question, since he sat there, his eyes boring into me, his mouth in a flat, tight line. I swallowed and nodded slightly. "I was thinking about it."

"Serena..." He moved away from me, turning so he could face me. "I'm confused. You don't... don't you like it here?"

"It's not that, JC-"

"Then what is it? Because I thought you were happy, here. With me."

"I am happy with you, honey--"

"Just not happy here. In my house."

I took a breath, tugging at my hair, stalling. "It's not that I'm not happy in your house. It's that... I mean, maybe... maybe Tyler was right. Maybe things around here are too different and the rules have changed too much. Maybe the bachelors need their house back-"

 "Is this about the fight you guys had? You can't be taking him seriously, Serena. Maybe Tyler and his girlfriend can get a place of their own and throw all the weeknight parties they want."

I shook my head. "You'll never kick Tyler out, JC. And if he and Allison aren't ready to live together I'm not going to force them. I'm the one with the upper hand, right now. I can get my own place and come home to a clean, quiet, peaceful place everyday that's all mine."

A wrinkle appeared across his forehead and dipped into the V between his eyes, knitting his eyebrows together. "All yours? Not all ours?"

"Well... yes, eventually all ours. It doesn't have to be today, though. I just think-I mean... I don't know."

I fingered the edges of the book, fanning pages. It was more than a passing thought, more like a reoccurring daydream of having my own little spot, somewhere in LA. A little place to call my own in a new city. I could be on my own-- completely. I hadn't planned on telling JC until the daydream was close to becoming reality, if it ever did. This was not going at all like I imagined it would. Then again, I hadn't quite mapped out this part of the daydream.

"If you move out, what do you think happens to us? We hardly see each other as it is. What do think we turn into?"

"We didn't change because I was living across the country. Why would we change when I'm living down the block?"

"Who knows?" He shrugged both of his shoulders in exaggerated fashion. "Why tempt fate? I thought all this effort we put in getting you here was so you could come to LA to live with me. Wasn't that the plan?"

"Honey, no..." I chuckled, which seemed to irritate him. Of course he only remembers it like he wants to remember it. "That's what you planned. That's what happened in your head. I moved to LA because I wanted a new start, remember?. I wanted you to be a part of that but I always said that I would stay here until I got on my feet. I'm working, now. I can support myself, now."

"Okay, and I get that, but... isn't this working? We just sat and had breakfast together and no one had to get up and get ready to go home. Don't you like that? Don't you love that?"

"I absolutely do. I do. And when you're home, I'll be here. But sometimes... sometimes I want to go home."

"Serena, you are home."

"No, JC." I scoffed, looking around. "You're home, for three weeks before you leave again. You're home with all your things and your clothes and your pieces of art. Your office, your studio, your house. Your couches, your rugs, your patio. Your dishes. Your house. Everything is yours. I'm just here."

"I never said you couldn't bring your stuff here-"

"And put it where, JC? This house is packed, top to bottom with everything that's you. You convince me to move here and you're gone all the time. And then you leave on tour for six weeks and you're not even home yet before you announce you're leaving for another four. I may as well move out. Get my own place. Unpack my boxes. Be comfortable, where I can spread out, because I sure as hell can't do that, here."

JC heaved a deep sigh, his chest expanding with his breath. He leaned his head on the tips of his fingers and closed his eyes.  "So instead of saying, hey, honey can we move some of your shit around... you're just moving out? That's what's going on?"

I moved over on the couch, so I could be closer to him, but he lifted his head and backed away from me. My heart beat out of my chest so hard I was sure he could hear it. I reached for him, but when he didn't stretch an arm out to meet my hand, I let it fall on the cushion between us.

"What you're saying then, is..." He shrugged, waving a hand around. "You don't want this. You don't want to live here. You don't want to be here. You don't want me."

"That's not what I'm saying, JC-"

"It's what I'm hearing, Serena. It's what I'm seeing. It's what I'm moving out means to me."

"Well, you're hearing wrong and you're seeing wrong. That's not what I'm saying, especially that I don't want you."

He sucked in a long, deep breath and stood up. He started to walk out of the room and stopped, instead turning around, hands on his hips and glaring at me with a look I had never seen before.

"You know what, Serena? I've...I feel like I've worked my ass off for you. I really do. I dated you, long distance, even when I thought it might be best for both of us if I let you go. But I couldn't do it. I've worked harder on this relationship than anything I've ever worked on in my life. Do you know how scared I was to open myself up to you? Do you know how hard it is to love you?"

He paced, ranting-but he wasn't shouting. He was quiet and calculated. The worst, scariest kind of angry.

"I wanted you to come here long before you decided to move to LA. I wanted you to come here and to live with me because I wanted to share my life with you. I wanted to be a part of something good and something big and something important. I wanted that with you. I've been practically... shit, I've been almost begging you to want that, too. But..."

His hands were in his hair, tugging and pulling and raking back and forth until it was standing on end. He dropped his arms to his sides and turned to face me, again. This time, he didn't look angry. His face was a light shade of pink and his eyes were glassy and he looked hurt.

"I've never seen a person work so hard to not be a part of my life. And that just... I don't know what to say. I just don't know what else to do."

"Okay..." I took a deep breath. Try not to screw this up. "You know I love you more than anything, but this is about more than things in a house. You want me here to play house with you, only you're not here to play with. I'm here with your brother and the maid and your friends, in your house with your stuff living this life. When you're not in one of a hundred studios in LA, you're gallivanting around the continental United States with your band friends and a hot chick in knee high boots while I'm just... here. At home."

I shook my head, pleading with my eyes for him to understand what I was saying. "This life isn't what I thought it would be, JC. And I don't know if this... domestic bliss thing we have going is what I want, right now. I don't know that I want to be the rock star wife."

"Serena...I don't... I mean... what am I not doing right? How much more can I bend over backwards for you, honey?  What is it that you want from me?  What more do I have to say, what more can I do? Tell me, because I obviously can't figure it out. Tell me! What the fuck do you want?"

For a few seconds I was speechless. JC never talked to me like that. Ever. Not even when we were fighting. This man, standing in front of me, almost hovering over me, sneering and glaring, his eyes a dark, ominous blue, was not the man I loved.

"What an asshole way to finally ask me what I want. You finally get that I might have my own goals and my own dreams and my own wants.  My own plan. Thanks for finally bringing me into the equation, JC."

"You were totally right, weren't you?  When we met, you said you were fucked up. And you are."

An eyebrow shot up and my lip curled. Before I even thought it, "You would know," fell out of my mouth. Almost instantly, I regretted it.

"Oh...honey." He shook his head and let a sarcastic chuckle fall from his mouth. "At least I'm trying to fix me. Unlike you, who's trying so hard to be everyone's hero and you need to just focus on your own life. The life you're fucking up. Right now. You know that, right?"

I couldn't help it. I didn't want to but I was hurt and angry and frustrated and those emotions combined brought tears to my eyes and a ringing to my ears. I clapped my hands over them and screamed at him over and over to shut up. Stop talking. Stop saying that. Stop hurting me.

"And cue the water works." He paced, taunting me and my tears. "Here's where I tell her she's beautiful, so she doesn't feel bad. That's what I do. I make people happy at the expense of my own happiness. Never mind me. Never mind that yeah, I'm fucked up, too but I'm more worried about you. Never mind what I'm giving up, to be with you."

"Giving up?" My head shot up, at that. "Giving up? What exactly have you given up, JC? Half of your bed? Half of your closet? 2am romps in bed with vapid gold digging supermodels and strippers and porn stars? Should we compare notes? I quit my job and I sold my house and moved three time zones and a world away from everyone I know, to be here with you-"

"And now you're leaving, not even three months in! What a fucking waste of time and sacrifice, Serena. And you know what?"  He paused, like I was going to answer him. "I think you're right about something else. I think I'm nowhere near ready to be married to you. So let's just drop that idea right now. Pressure's off!"

He waved his hand around in a gesture to match his tone. "Stay. Move out.  Whatever.  I'm tired of caring. I'm tired of trying. I can't try, anymore." He stomped out of the room, his footsteps heavy on the wood floors. I heard a door slam and felt the vibration through the walls. And then the house was quiet. So quiet.

A few minutes later a door swung open, bouncing against the wall. I heard him coming at me, againand I hoped he'd come back to apologize but his expression was stony. In his hand was a thick envelope, which he tossed onto the coffee table in front of me. It landed with a thunk, the return address facing me: Explore Greece!

My heart sank.

"The tickets came. Non refundable. First class, so you'd be comfortable. Take Melissa. Take your mom. Take Regina. I don't give a shit. I'm not going."

He left again, stomping down the stairs to his studio, slamming the door behind him. I sat on the couch for about an hour. For the second time in as many days, I had no idea what to do with myself.  

Was he coming back up? Was he hiding from me? Would this blow over?

The room was dark, shadows creeping across the floor by the time I sucked in a breath, got up and went upstairs to the bedroom. I found my purse and my cell phone, scrolled to a now familiar number and dialed. And paced, while it rang.

"Hey, Lara. It's Serena... Yeah, we got in last night....No, I'm... I'm not okay, actually..... Uhm, listen. Do you still have a guest bedroom? I uh... I might need to stay with you for a little bit........Uhm......"

My eyes welled up and my bottom lip trembled and suddenly I couldn't stand on my own two feet anymore.

"I screwed up. I think JC just broke up with me."