10pm in New York. The snow had stopped almost as soon as it started but it was still cold, much colder than the LA temperatures I had left just hours before. It was amazing how fast I had acclimated to California weather, but I didn't really have time to stand around and marvel at it. I had somewhere to be, and I was in a hurry. 

I was en route to the Mercury Lounge, a lower east side venue popular among the local rock community for its intimate playing space and not a bad seat in the house-as long as you were standing. The cab dropped me along the Houston strip and I made my way toward the thick wooden doors spread open and spilling a sweet guitar melody into the street.

On purpose, I was very late. I didn't want draw any kind of attention, I just wanted to catch a few minutes of JC's set.  I slipped inside and worked my way along the back wall of the small lounge. The place was packed out, almost wall to wall. The stage was in plain view of a standing room only crowd, elevated only a few feet above the main floor.  

JC was center stage in black-- a wool driving cap, a button down, long sleeved shirt, black jeans and boots. Even the scruff on his face seemed thick and dark, almost obscuring his lips, climbing high on his face. His eyes were closed, lush lashes atop sunken cheeks and his voice was low and gritty. His fingers strummed a guitar- the Fender-while he sang a song that by now was so familiar, I knew it by heart. My lips moved without making a sound while my heart sang along with him.

Last night I didn't love you

Last night my world was changed

Last night I didn't know what holding you would mean to me

After last night I'm not the same.

He sang it over and over, slower each time until the song ended with a long, sad, lingering note. After a moment of breathless silence, the crowd erupted in applause. JC's eyes flew open-he seemed startled, as if he'd forgotten where he was. He nodded, muttered ‘thank you' into the microphone a few times and then stood from the stool he sat on. He adjusted his guitar, nodding again through the waning applause.

I don't know how, since I was in the back of the room and hanging in the shadows behind the people gathered in front of the stage, but he saw me. His head lifted and eyes narrowed, he scanned the crowd, and like a heat seeking missile, he found me.

Granted, he did a double take before his eyes locked onto mine. A wrinkle formed in his brow and we stared at each other while the world around us seemed to drag in slow motion. From behind him, members of Boys of Summer were stepping up to the stage and setting up-- keyboards, drums, another guitar and mic stand. JC stood at the mic, gripping the stand with both hands and staring. Motionless.

I looked away finally, dipping my head to the floor. I was distracting him, which was exactly what I was hoping not to do.  That seemed to work though, since the room grew quiet as the men assembled and then with the wooden clack of drumsticks, four beats counted out. Luke took the lead and opened with an impressive riff of blues-y rock and in just a few bars I recognized the slow transition into Hotel California. 

Welcome to the Hotel California
Such a lovely place (Such a lovely place)
Such a lovely face
Plenty of room at the Hotel California
Any time of year (Any time of year)
You can find it here

There were cheers and claps and hands waving side to side, a few lighters lit but even more iPhones and Blackberries glowing in the dark room as the audience sang along. JC and Luke shared vocals and took turns wowing the audience with fingers flying along guitar strings. When the final verse came around, JC stepped to the mic and put all of his energy into belting it.

Last thing I remember, I was
Running for the door
I had to find the passage back
To the place I was before
'Relax,' said the night man,
'We are programmed to receive.
You can check-out any time you like,
But you can never leave!'

He stepped back and jammed through the ending, trading off guitar playing duties with Luke as the cheers from the audience grew louder through the instrumental solo. As soon as the song ended, JC took a bow, waved to the crowd and stepped off-stage.

He was coming right at me, I could feel it. And I could see him, his head bobbing above the audience as he made his way through the throng of people. When he finally broke through, he stopped. A few steps more and he would have been standing right in front of me, close enough to touch but he stayed at a safe distance. Better to be safe than sorry, I supposed.  

I panicked. I didn't know what to say. JC could be hard to read when he wanted to be, and tonight, he wanted to be. I couldn't tell if he was angry or happy or indifferent that I was there. I didn't know if he wanted to hug me or push me toward the door. I didn't know if I was welcomed or dreaded. So I stood there, waiting for a sign.

He moved closer, close enough that I could smell his cologne and sweat and him, all mixed together in a heady, intoxicating fragrance. He was tall with his boots on, thin and lithe in all black. The only brightness about him were his eyes-a piercing deep blue. They fixated on me. He could probably see right through me if he really tried.

I cleared my throat and shifted from one foot to another, willing my heart to stop beating so fast. I was almost lightheaded, since I was barely breathing.

"Hey," I finally choked out.

"Hey," he answered back. Softly and gently, not hard and accusatory, hardly a ‘what are you doing here' about his voice at all. Lucky me, I expected it.

"I caught some of your set. It was really good. And the last song was good, with you guys all together. I really liked it."

"Thanks. Good... uh. Yeah, we just added that. Thanks." He shifted his weight to one leg but didn't avert his gaze at all. It was intense and concentrated and if he was trying to make me nervous, it was working.

"So, uh..." He breathed in and out, taking his time, looking around the room at the crowd slowly making their way past them to the bar. His eyes snapped back to me, his stare as intense as ever. "You in town for work, or what?"

"No. I came to see you," I said. "I came to see the show and hear you sing.  You sounded great. You look great. It's been awhile."

"Yeah, well. Didn't have to be that way."  His voice was calm but his eyes were hard. He didn't move or blink or flinch.  

I sucked in a breath and shoved my hands into the pockets of my jeans, braving a glance up at him and into those hard, cold, piercing blue eyes. "I guess I deserve that. I was hoping we could talk, actually. Clear the air some. If you want. If not..."

"I don't have a problem with talking to you, Serena. It's just..." He lowered his eyes and dipped his head and kicked the toe of his boot at an invisible mark on the floor. My heart dropped into my stomach. Maybe he wasn't just angry. Maybe he was really, really hurt. Shit.

"JC, I don't want... I mean, I'm not trying to hurt you more than I already have. All I ask is that you hear me out. Can I have that, at least?"

He had to think about my request much longer than I liked but he finally gave a solitary nod and said, "Okay. Where do you want to do this?"

"Do you remember our place?"

Something sparked in his eyes as they flicked up toward the ceiling. He almost smiled, and nodded again. "I've uh..." He angled a thumb toward the stage. "I'll meet you there. In a bit."

I watched him back away, step by step, without having so much as touched me, into the crowd of people. His head bobbed while he fought his way through to the stage and then to the side door to the backstage area. And then he was gone.

I exhaled, emptying my lungs. I could have passed out right then and there, but I had to get back to the hotel and be ready to meet JC. And pour my heart out. And hope it was enough.

*

From the view on the rooftop, the city was crawling. Millions of tiny, flashing lights. People bustling everywhere, dressed in their finest, headed to the theater district and Times Square. Families shuffling down one block and up another, carting excited children on arms and shoulders. Couples slowly meandering, window shopping and talking and holding hands and sipping coffee from paper cups.

One couple played what looked to be a fun, romantic game, racing each other from the door of one building to the other. Whoever lost had to give the other a kiss. I could see JC letting me win a lot at that game. I watched them and laughed, from hundreds of feet in the air.

"Careful you don't fall over the edge."

I was so wrapped up in that couple, watching them play, wishing it was JC and I having so much fun in New York, that I didn't hear the elevator doors slide open or the crunch of boots against the gravel of the rooftop café. It was deserted, so the sound should have echoed but it was lost in the noise of the city around me. 

Every nerve ending from my hair to my toes reacted to him. He was the tiniest bit hoarse, so his voice had a sexy grit to it. He had always been quiet and as usual, without much fanfare, he said the simplest thing to light me on fire. I stood up straight, almost shaking from the sound of his voice, and turned around to find him standing a few feet behind me. He was wearing the same clothes from his performance, except he now wore a leather jacket. Hot as hell against the sparse background of nothing but concrete and gravel.

"You would never let me fall over the edge."

"All the same, come this way, a little." He lifted his hand and wiggled a few fingers at me until I had stepped away from the wall.

I shivered in my wool coat, but not from the cold. JC could make or break this moment with a word or by simply turning around and walking away. I was scared to my bones that he would do just that. Being near him again for the first time in weeks was driving my body crazy. I wanted him, but he was making it pretty clear that I would have to work for it.  

"Serena..." He said it so quietly, almost just under his breath.

"Yeah," I answered back, my tone matching his. I didn't even dare look at him.

"You said you wanted to talk. You wanted me to hear you out. I'm listening."

"Yeah... I just... I wanted to say that... uhm..." 

You can do this. Put on your big girl pants and face him. Fix this, because your life sucks without him in it.

"Can we like... hug or something? Or do you hate me?"

He stood inches from me again and for the briefest moment I thought he was going to shake his head and tell me to just say what I had to say.

But he didn't. He pulled his hands from the pockets of his jacket and opened his arms. "You come this way, because you're still too close to the wall," he said. And he smiled.

Relieved, I lurched forward until I was up against him-my head rested on his shoulder, my forehead against the warmth his neck, my arms circled around him, our bodies pressed together. His arms closed around me, loosely at first, like he didn't really want to hug me.

"I'm sorry," I whispered to him, my head tilted up toward his ear. "God, I'm so sorry. I miss you and I love you, so much. And if I've screwed this up forever, then I deserve it. But if I have a chance to fix this, a chance to be with you at all, I want it."

I felt his body react to me. His pulse pounded as his heartbeat sped up. His chest expanded with the deep breaths he took. He swallowed, hard. A few times. Then his arms around me tightened and he pulled me closer, one hand on my back and the other in my hair. His lips brushed my forehead twice and then lingered there.

"It's funny how things work out," he muttered, against my skin. I angled my head up so I could see him, my brows knit together in confusion. "I planned on asking if you could come out for this show and then we had that stupid fight. The guys and I were driving here and I was wishing you could be here. And then I looked up and there you were."

I smiled into his chest and laughed. "I do love any excuse to come to New York."

"I'm the perfect excuse, apparently."

"Yep."

A comfortable lull of silence passed as we stood on that roof and held each other for the first time in what felt like forever. I could have melted into him, molded myself to his form and never let him go. I'd missed him-- holding him, feeling him up against me, being comforted by the sound of his heartbeat under my cheek.

Much too soon though, his arms loosened and he stepped back, running his palms along the sleeves of my coat until he held my hands in his.

"We need to talk," he said softly, but in a gravely serious tone. I nodded in agreement.

Along the side of the wall were stacks of chairs, meant to be placed casually around glass topped tables outfitted with umbrellas flapping in the breeze. Winter was digging in and hanging on in New York, so it wasn't warm enough for patio dining, yet. JC picked two chairs from the top of a stack and set them side by side, facing the view.

I settled into a plain patio chair with a sturdy back. He sat in the chair next to me, scooted close and then laid his arm across the back of my chair. I really wanted to feel encouraged that he was close to me. His thigh was practically touching mine, his hands curled around the side of the chair but he could just as easily wrap it around me.

"I had this big speech written in my head," I blurted, out of nowhere. "There was this list of things I was going to say, and those things would make you totally forgive me and... and then I saw you and I lost my shit and I can't remember any of it right now. I wish I could say what happened. My therapists hate it when I say I don't know, but I don't."

"Mine too. That's because we do know. We just don't want to say it."

"I wish I had a magic wand that I could wave and make so much go away. I would undo a lot of things. Unthink some things. Unsay some things."

JC nodded. "That would solve a lot of problems, huh? Like a do-over."

"Yeah. Except I wouldn't want to undo a lot. I've had the best year and a half with you. I want to keep them. I just don't want to keep any of those rare moments of me acting like a dumbass."

JC scratched at his beard and chuckled, the sound coming from deep in his chest. "I'm not real proud of how I acted a few weeks ago, either. Can I use your wand?"

"Yeah, when I'm done with it. Got a big job."

We laughed together, a few nervous giggles. I'd missed that. I stared straight ahead-because I couldn't really look at him yet. "I don't really know what to say, JC. I'm sorry. I am, and I just really want to be back with you."

"I want that, too. The problem is that we don't have a magic wand. Words were said and things were done and we can't erase them. It won't make any sense to be back with me if you can't talk to me, or if you don't plan on staying with me. Why waste the time?"

I shook my head, vehemently wagging. "I was never breaking up with you. Never, ever was I ending us."

"Maybe not," he said, shrugging a shoulder. "But it would have happened. You can't go backwards in a relationship and still have the same relationship. There was no way I could not live with you and still feel the same way about you. I don't think you could either, and I wasn't going through a long, slow goodbye while you figured that out."

All I could do was nod and blink and chew on my lip. I knew he was right. Out of sight, out of mind. We'd both get busy and never see each other and it would be the beginning of the end.

"And I guess my biggest point of... anger or whatever, wasn't that you were moving out. It was what moving out represented. You thought you were solving some problem with us. After everything we've been through, you couldn't talk to me and tell me that things were so bad, you were thinking about moving out. Or for some reason you didn't want to live with me, anymore. The the biggest decisions in your life, the ones that affect me, you don't feel like I need to be in on them. I get to just deal. I don't like that."

I opened my mouth to protest but he cut me off by raising a hand between us. "And I don't care about how you never intended on living with me forever and you were always getting your own place. That was bullshit. I was never putting up with that, and I think you know that."

My mouth shut and lips clamped together. I guess he told me. I realized then why he had been so upset. He'd always had his own plan. I wished he'd have let me in on it, instead of patting me on the head and placating me. But then again, I was so stubborn...

"You don't solve problems in a relationship by running away," he was saying. "But that was your first instinct. Something goes wrong, you run."

"I strike first so I don't get hurt. Or so it hurts less."

"And it pissed me off that you weren't even gonna give me a chance to fix whatever broke."

"You're right. I wasn't. I thought it would be too much. I'd be asking too much."

He shifted, turning his entire body toward me, his demeanor changing rapidly from angry and accusatory to almost understanding.

"Don't think that I don't realize that me and that job at the only things keeping you in LA. All your stuff and your family and friends and your permanent ties are all in Atlanta. You moving out was one foot out of the door. So I make one false move, like maybe extending a tour you pushed me to go on, and suddenly nothing is coming up roses anymore, you slide down your escape hatch and exit. Right out of my life and our future and everything we've worked for."

"But JC... I wasn't gonna slide down the escape hatch over the tour. I want to be supportive and I love that you're doing music now and I honestly love this tour. It's done so much for you and it's given you back so much confidence in yourself and your music. I'm not against you touring."

He laughed but it wasn't a laugh of amusement. "Then why did you have such an attitude when I said I was going back out, again?"

"Because... I wanted you to come home."

"I was coming home, Serena. I was home."

"And then leaving again." He rolled his eyes but I waved off his frustration. "Look, it wasn't just about the tour. It wasn't just about coming home, it was about you being at home. I feel like you got me to LA and then dumped me there and told me to make the best of it. You fell right back into whatever pattern you lived by before your full time girlfriend lived in the same city and left me to fend for myself. You can't work all night and sleep all day anymore.

"LA is your world, JC. You brought me into it and then left me there. I was excited for you to come home so we could spend some time together where you weren't stressed out about music and tours and contracts, and you could relax and we could do fun things together again. Remember when we hung out and were friends and did things besides eat dinner, watch porn and have sex?"

Entirely out of character and against the tense mood, JC laughed. Really, really hard. "I don't see what was so bad about food, porn and sex," he finally said, when he could get it out. "I don't. Two of those things, we're great at."

My hard, unamused stare broke into a smile. "Whatever. I need you. You, not your brother and the maid and your awesome friend Lara. I knew you would be busy. I didn't think you would work nonstop and ignore me. I didn't know I'd be relegated to about number 5 on your list of important things in life. I never thought I'd have to beg you to be with me. And I mean...honestly..."

I was nervous about this part. More than a little bit nervous. I wound up my hair, twirling it around two fingers. My other hand gripped the denim of my jeans tightly, mostly just to keep from shaking.

"I know you want more, with me. Accepting that requires me to believe some things about you, the celebrity. And I know you want me to put that part of you away, but it's the elephant in the room. I was consumed and obsessed with it. Most of my dumbass moments center around what happens with us past some arbitrary moment in time that I made up in my head, about when the celebrity would be done with the fan. I know now that I'm not dealing with that kind of dynamic anymore. I really never was, and if I could wave those moments away, I would."

"I can want more with you all day, but it doesn't mean shit if you don't want more, too."

I paused, studying him. Looking into his face, into his eyes, there was hope. I saw everything he wanted with me-with us. I'd never had a man look at me that way before. Not even him. It all hinged on me wanting the same thing. No pressure, really.

"You know, when I first met you I thought it would be so much fun to be your girlfriend. I got caught up in the glamour, I guess. I told myself that you'd never feel anything real for me, so I didn't let myself even think about anything serious with you for the longest time. I never even meant to fall in love with you-"

"Feeling really good right now, honey," he interrupted, his eyes sparkling.

"I have a point." I grabbed his hand-because I could-and held onto it. "It's different. Definitely not a fairy tale. You're much more serious than I thought you'd be. A lot of fun, but so intense. Focused. And you love hard, and that scared me, to be honest. The last couple of weeks, though... I'd rather deal with you loving me so much you smother me than you not loving me at all. I wanted to call you, but I wouldn't let myself because I wanted to have something new to say. Every time I screw up, I say I'm sorry. I felt like you deserved more than that.

"So... I've been thinking. And talking. To a therapist." I glanced up at him in time to catch an eyebrow lift in curious interest. "A lot of our-my issues go back to the one big thing we have in common. We are both so scared that the other is going to leave. Only, we have different coping mechanisms. I push people away, because they're going to leave anyway. You cling to them, hold onto them tightly, so they don't leave. We almost don't work. Almost."

JC closed his eyes and pressed his lips together, nodding along as if it sounded familiar. It should have-we were seeing the same therapist.

"I guess I have to say that if waking up every morning and going to bed every night loving someone and knowing that someone loves you back... and if knowing that someone wants you to be a part of their lives forever and ever... and if someone wants to live a happy, beautiful life and make sweet, beautiful babies with you sounds like what you want, then yeah. I want the same thing. Really, really badly. And I'm willing to do what I have to do to make it happen."

It seemed funny to me. As hard as he'd been pushing for the past few months for me to say something like that, he seemed very ‘deer in the headlights' about the words coming out of my mouth. I almost laughed to myself that I was pretty much right on. He wasn't ready. But that was okay. We had time.  

 "I'm not saying I want it tomorrow, because you and I have some work to do. But I do want it. I don't have the energy to fight it anymore. That was pride and fear and me wanting to be in control. I wanted it to be my idea. And in the words of the wise Melissa Grant, I wanted to be happy more than I wanted to be right. None of that is more important than being with you, right now."

He relaxed, it seemed to me. His shoulders dropped and his breathing was slow and deep. And his jaw wasn't clenched anymore.

"Pride ... fear... wanting to be in control sounds about right. About me, too. I was a bully. I'm the man and I'm famous and you're lucky I chose you, so what I want trumps anything else." Sheepish, he glanced over at me and said quietly, "That's what my therapist told me about myself."

I laughed. "We are an enlightened pair, aren't we?"

He laughed with me, squeezing my hand still wrapped up in his. Then he brought our hands to his mouth and kissed mine. His lips, so soft and warm, felt good. God, it felt so good just have my hand held. To have someone that liked holding my hand.

 "I just..." He inhaled and exhaled a deep, cleansing breath. "I know I won't find another woman like you. So I couldn't let you get away from me."

That made me feel good. Like, giddy, giggly, hide-my-face-in-his-shoulder good. "I wasn't going anywhere, JC."

He smirked, rolling his eyes toward me, staring at me with a "really?" look on his face. He stayed that way until I laughed, my face flush with embarrassment.

"Okay, so I went away. But you were mean to me. You said you didn't care if I left or stayed and then you said you weren't going to Greece with me and then you ran away to your other girlfriend. Your music. What was I supposed to think?"

"I don't know," he mumbled, shaking his head. "I don't know. We can erase that day. Everything after the pancakes..." He made a sweeping motion with his hands, dusting away the past. If only it was so easy. "Do over."

I patted our hands, a jumble of fingers tangled up together. He was so warm, even as the temperature was dropping. "So...how do I fix this? How do I make things right, again? Can I even undo the last three weeks?"

He turned his head to look at me, his eyes crawling my face from my hair line to my jaw line. His lips twitched and his lashes fluttered with every blink. "You can come home," he said. Very simply. Very quietly.

"Just... come home? That easy."

He nodded. "It was always that easy. You could have just come home. Our home. And whatever we have to do to make it seem like our home, we'll do it. We'll bring your stuff from Atlanta. We'll move some shit around, sell some stuff, store some stuff, buy some stuff if we need to. Whatever would make you happy."

"I will remember you said that, cheapass. You promise you won't feel like I'm trying to change you or take over your house?"

"I hope you're trying to take over. The house could use a woman's touch. I mean, I don't want floral wallpaper and shit... but you get me. I trust your taste. And I get a say, right?"

I laughed. It was a little bit of an evil cackle. "Maybe."

JC groaned, but playfully, and then sat up and wrapped both arms around my shoulders, bringing me close to him. He dropped a kiss on my forehead, sweeping soft lips across my skin over and over and then made his way down my face to my nose and then, so blissfully, my lips. His pressed to mine and in that moment, all was right with the world.

"I just want to be with you," he whispered, his mouth still on mine. "Whatever it takes, I can't be without you anymore. If you want to move, we can do that. We'll get a place at the beach, or somewhere outside LA if you hate it there, or even if you wanted to go back to Atlanta-wherever you feel comfortable, just say the word. I can work anywhere and I'll move tomorrow."

"I don't want kick you out of your house, JC. I just need more than half a closet. I just want to feel like I live there, too."

"And you will. I promise you that. Have I ever broken a promise to you?"

"No. You haven't, ever."

"Okay. So I'm not about to make that the first one."

"You promised you'd take me to Greece," I said, smiling up at him. "Are you still not going?"

He shrugged. "Dunno. Do you want me to take you?"

"Do you still want to go?"

"Answer first and I'll tell you."

"Yes! God." I feigned frustration but inside I was so happy he was giving me shit again. "Yes, I want you to take me."

He smiled, almost laughing. "I guess I'll take you, then. So how long do I have you this weekend? When do you have to head back to LA?"

It was my turn to shrug and offer smug smile. "Whenever."

"What do you mean, whenever? When do you have to go back to work?"

"I don't."

"Serena..."

"Joshua..."

He laughed, trying hard to give me the eye. It wasn't working. "What are you talking about?"

I sat up so I could see his face and tucked one leg under the other. The chairs were not the most comfortable and I had to move around before something fell asleep. I reached across the arms of our chairs and he offered his hand again. I happily took it and let his swallow mine. Absentmindedly, and out of habit likely, his thumb stroked the back of my hand. A pleasant, comforting feeling that meant so much right then.

 "About my job... well, my life sort of fell apart when I left and I couldn't work and deal with everything. I was making a lot of money, but working like 14 hour days and not sleeping or eating and I couldn't get any more time off to get some balance. Things came to a head... I took some good advice and a leave of absence from Taylor." I shook my head, watching him. "Thanks to my awesome boyfriend, I've been able to save a lot of money. Which is good, because I'm probably not going back."

By the looks of the crease across his forehead, he seemed alarmed, even before his eyes grew to the size of saucers and he reared back. "But... you fought so hard for that job. All the interviews and the traveling and the worrying.  I thought that was your dream job-you were so happy when you got it. You've worked your ass off for Taylor."

"I've worked myself sick, is what I've done." I soothed him with long strokes across his palms, around to the back of his hand and up his arm, as far as his sleeve would let me go. "It was hard to let go. I hate giving up but in the end, I had to do what was right for me. Taylor is the Big Time. I wasn't ready for the Big Time. It just wasn't right for me and I don't really miss it. And I wanted to be available to support you. Maybe try out this rock star wife thing."

I laughed at his eye roll and inability to control his grin. It spread quickly, not just across his lips but across his entire face. I cupped his face in my free hand, smiling at the feeling of stubble pricking my finger tips.

"So, I had to work out some things in my head, and then I had to come to New York and find my man, and hear him sing and play the guitar and watch him own a stage. And I had to tell him to his face that I love him, desperately. And I am so sorry for hurting him and I am never, not ever going to do it again."

"Cool," he said, nodding, still smiling. "I like that you came here to see me and to tell me that."

"Lord knows you've chased me around this country to do the same thing."

He nodded, laughter coming from deep in his chest. "Worth it every time. I also like that you don't have to go, soon. The last thing I want right now is to say goodbye to you."

"That feeling is very mutual."

It was snowing, again. Light flakes swirling around in the air, falling silently and beautifully, landing in his hair and on his eyelashes and his coat. He brushed them from my cheek and my hair and then cupped my face with his hands and gently pulled me toward him. His lips hit their mark, landing on mine and pressing a tender kiss to them. Slowly, it deepened into a hypnotic, moan-filled lip lock. Way, way overdue.

With a content sigh from both of us, our lips parted. I opened my eyes to find JC's still closed. He leaned forward, resting his forehead on mine.

"I said some things to you that I didn't mean. I want to apologize for them and promise that I'm never going to say things like that to you again. Okay?"

I nodded, my head rolling against his. "Me too. I said some really shitty things to you, which is nothing new. I'm sorry and I'm... I know I can't do that again. Ever."

"You were kind of right, though. You gave up a lot to be with me. My life didn't change that much. So we should make it more even. Hmm?"

"That would be nice."

"You know what else would be nice?"

He was grinning, ear to ear, and his eyes were open. I caught a spark in them and laughed. I knew exactly what he meant, and I was more than ready for it.

"You're singing my song, baby."

JC shot up like he'd been struck by lightning and offered me a hand. I took it and let him help me stand and then pull me toward the elevator doors. They opened and we stepped inside the warm cube. "What floor?"

"Twelve."

JC laughed and pressed the button numbered ‘12'. "Do not ever change, honey."

The room was cozy, just as I'd left it with a few bonus elements. On the off chance that he actually accepted my apology and wanted to be with me again, I ordered a bottle of wine and a snack for us. And if he rejected me, at least I could sit in my room and eat and get drunk.

I was happy it was the former.

JC unzipped his jacket, sliding it from his shoulders and handed it to me. I hung it in the closet next to mine, kicked my shoes off and left them there, too.  He sat on the side of the bed and clasped his hands together. Waiting. He was so cute.

I made my way around the side of the bed to the table, poured a crystal goblet of wine and uncovered the room service tray to reveal sliced cheese, crackers and fruit.

"Hungry?"

Ever so slightly he shook his head no. His eyes were the clearest, brightest blue I'd ever seen... and they never left me for a second.

I lifted a wine glass. "Thirsty? Do you want something besides wine?"

No.

I set the glass down and walked over to him, wedged myself between his legs and took his face in my hands. I smoothed down the stiff, coarse hairs with my thumbs and then ran them over his lips. He puckered up, just enough to catch a quick kiss as my fingers stroked.

"Do you want to pick up where we left off?"

Yes, he nodded, his hands already sliding up the backs of my thighs, over the curve of my hip and up my waist. His fingers worked the hem of my shirt and crawled up under it, the calluses on the tips of them creating wave after delicious wave up my back. The sensation made my toes curl and my nerve endings stand at attention.

"Missed you," he mumbled, rolling my shirt up to expose my skin to the air in the room. He leaned forward and laid little suction kisses down the center of my belly and back up to the band of my bra and then in one smooth movement, whipped my shirt up and over my breasts. Instinctively, I lifted my arms and he pulled again. It landed somewhere on the other side of the bed.

A groan came from JC-guttural and heavy, it matched the feeling of his hands kneading and rubbing, covering every inch of exposed skin. But not enough skin, because his fingers began working the button and zipper of my jeans and when they were loose, he pushed them down past my hips. I kicked out of them while he worked the band of my bra and once that was loose, he tossed it behind him, toward wherever he threw my shirt.

"You didn't even notice I wore lace for you," I teased.

"I noticed," he said. His eyes rolled up to meet mine a mere second before his mouth closed over a nipple. He circled it with his tongue and then flicked it a few times before releasing it again. "I love the lace. I love the naked more."

He was going for the other nipple but I managed to step back, just out of his reach. "Me too. So let's get to it."  I pushed him so he was laying on the bed and made him scoot up so just his feet were hanging off of the edge. One boot came off and then the other, dropping to the floor with a thud. I climbed up on to the bed and straddled him, roughly attacking the buttons of his shirt, spreading it open to reveal the stark white t-shirt underneath.

I kept moving further south, over the fly of his jeans, until they were unbuttoned and unzipped and JC was inching them down his hips. Bit by bit, more of him came into view-rigid and smooth, a size and shape that I knew by heart. I almost sighed in relief at seeing him.

JC had sat up to pull off his t-shirt and stole a wild, breathless kiss or two but had settled back against the blue and cream comforter, an expectant smile on his lips and his hands laid out above his head.

I moved so I was in a comfortable position and lowered my head to him, watching him watch me. "My favorite part," I said, before taking him into my mouth. It had been awhile... a long while... since I had enjoyed him so I took my time, bathing him with my tongue, swirling around and around, loving the sounds that came from him and the feeling of his hips moving in time with me.

"Fuck, that feels good. I missed this."

Mmmmphhmmm was about all I could manage, what with my mouth being full. I had the feeling he understood. His hands gripped my head and then curled up in my hair as pressure and speed built. Moans and groans and happy, sated sounds came from above me as his body moved below me until his breath caught in his throat and he shuddered.

"Shit...." was all he could get out before I felt him tense up, pulse and then release and fall back against the bed. He was red and glistening with sweat and panting like he'd run a mile, but a grin was plastered from one end of his face to the other. "Liked that. Come here."

JC pulled at me until I made my way up and we were face to face, kissing wildly, tongues swirling, almost battling, but much more fun. His hands crawled me, moving from my waist down my thighs and up to my chest and back down again.

"I can't tell you how good it feels to have you touching me again. I love your hands on me."

"Mmm," he hummed, smiling. "I love your mouth on me."

A sultry chuckle bubbled up from inside me. "I love your... everything on me. And in me."

"Well, let me just take care of that, then."

In a swift motion, he rolled over, bringing me with him. He lowered himself, grinning at my audible sigh at having his weight on me. He kissed me, over and over and endlessly, before moving down to nibble at each breast and nip at the skin of my belly. Lower and even lower he went until he had parted my legs and wrapped a strong hand around each thigh. My eyes closed, I leaned back and tried to relax... but I was kind of nervous. It had been awhile for me, too. I felt his breath before I felt anything and that helped calm me some.

My hips jumped at the first few touches, gentle as they were. It didn't take much more than a few passes with his tongue from my body to remember what this felt like. In no time, my back was arching and my hips were gyrating in time to the movements of his mouth against me. I was burning up, dripping with sweat and shaking so badly, gripping the thick hotel bedspread with my toes while my hips were inches above it.

I moaned and sighed and cried out with abandon, begging him not to stop, to keep going. He hummed and worked his tongue fast and relentlessly until the sweet wave of climax washed over me, rocking my hips in sharp convulsions and then dropping them to the surface of the bed. It was like being in space and falling back to earth, except it was the most blissful descent I'd ever felt.

JC worked his way back up the same way he went down. I welcomed his weight on me and his lips and tongue licking and sucking at my neck and his teeth nibbling at my ears. He was chest to chest with me, his heaving shallow breaths just above mine, either from excitement or exertion. Either one was fine with me.

He lifted himself slightly and I snaked a hand between us to help guide him to me. He gave a gentle push with his hips and slid inside me, slowly and ever-so-pleasantly filling me. He exhaled and his shoulders sagged in what must have been sweet relief. My head rocked back and my eyes slammed shut and my hips acted on instinct, arching up toward him and matching his casual rhythm.

He panted in rhythm with his thrusts, his face inches from mine while the rest of his body was working. I heard him and felt him but didn't see him, since my eyes were closed. I was having my own very religious experience, moving closer and closer to heaven with every stroke. I wrapped my legs around him and slid my hands down his body until I had a handful of cheek in each. And pushed.

"Harder."

"Harder? You want it hard?"

I opened my eyes to find his staring right into mine. "I want it hard. I need you. Please don't tease me, I couldn't take it. Please, JC-"

"Okay. Okay. Shhhhh," he soothed, moving himself to his knees. His rhythm changed from slow and sensuous to a hard and fast thrust. My body responded, moving with his. I relished in the feel of wet lips raining kisses and teeth biting gently and his body moving with me and yet slapping so hard against me. The sound of skin against skin and JC's moans and my cries and yelps in chorus filled the room with just about every sound I loved. He felt so good and comfortable and right. He felt like home.

"I'm gonna come," I said, shaking in near climax again. From the spasms and twitching from his hips to his back, I guessed he was not far behind me.

"I'm waiting for you. Come to me."

"Are you coming with me?"

"Yeah," he said, almost spasming as he said it. "I'm close. You go, I go. Come for me."

So I let go. The wave that had been lapping at the dam completely busted through and washed over me in one fantastic movement. It kept crashing, rocking my body over and over. The sheer force of my orgasm sent JC over the edge. He let out a low, guttural growl and grunted as he pushed hard, over and over and over until he couldn't move anymore, then collapsed on top of me, his breaths coming in short, strangled gasps.

We were both drenched, dripping with sweat. But we were both now completely satisfied. For the time being. In my mind, we weren't back together until that moment. And at that moment, everything was alright.

"Don't move," I whispered to him, when he started to slide off of me. "Stay here. Stay, please."

JC didn't answer in words. He sank back down onto me, but not before running his hands along my thighs, hooking them behind my knees and pulling my legs back around his body. I locked them around his legs and laid with him, stroking his back, scratching his scalp, kissing his forehead. His breaths slowed from rapid and shallow to deeper, slow ones. I would have sworn he was asleep but I felt his eyes twitching and his eyelashes flutter against my skin.

"You okay?"

He nodded, his skin slipping against mine in a pool of sweat. "I'm okay," he eeked out. Poor guy was already hoarse. A vigorous session of sex with a lot of moaning and grunting had done him in. "You?"

I nodded, stroking his back. "I feel wonderful."

"You should. Some of my best work, right there."

I laughed. I felt him smile against me. Then, "Serena," he said. "I can't go through that, again. Be apart, I mean. I'm stubborn and so are you and eventually that's gonna get us into trouble. You know? We have to always find a way to work things out."

I nodded, but said nothing. I felt like I'd said enough and didn't want to screw anything up. Instead, I tightened my arms around him and kissed his forehead.

"Love you," he mumbled. "Really, really love you a lot. I want you to love me for a long time. And I'm not even drunk when I say that."

I just laughed and hugged him some more. Therapy was working miracles for him.

We laid in the quiet of the room, a wayward sigh or chuckle coming from one or both of us. I was comfortable and could have laid there all night with him. My stomach had other plans-I hadn't eaten all day and after so much stress and worry that JC wouldn't even want to talk to me and then so much activity following our grand reunion, I was sapped for energy and my stomach was screaming for more.

JC started to sit up, much to my protest. Without his body on mine, I was cold. I shivered, reaching for the top of the bedspread and the sheets to pull them down. I crawled inside and piled the pillows up behind me, sitting up against the headboard.

"I guess we better bust into this cheese and crackers right here." JC slid the tray onto the bed, handed me a fresh glass of wine and took the glass that had already been poured. He crawled into the bed beside me, his legs stretched out in front of him. He picked up the remote from the side table and turned on the TV. "Need to replenish our energy stores for round two."

I piled cheese onto crackers and popped them into my mouth, washing them down with wine and red grapes and apple slices, repeating the process a few more times. I filled up pretty quickly and let JC finish off the tray, sipping wine while he ate and flipped through TV channels.

"So where are the rest of the guys staying?"

"Uh, some one star roach motel, close to the Mercury. For reasons you can imagine, I'm thankful you came and that you're sentimental enough to want to stay here."

"I thought I was the spoiled one."

"Oh, you are. I just spoiled myself while I was spoiling you, is all."

"Hmmm," I mused, leaning up against his arm. His hand found its way between my legs and gripped a thigh, his thumb rubbing back and forth against my skin. I loved it when he did that. Little things like that... I had missed so much.

"JC?"

"Mmm," he grunted, his eyes fixated on some crappy movie on TNT.

"How did you find me, tonight? It was dark, you couldn't have known I was there."

"I knew you were coming. I was looking for you."

My head lifted from his shoulder. "What? How did you know? No one knew I was coming."

"Well, first of all, it's New York. I was hoping that if you were coming at all, you would come to this show. Fluke that you actually showed up," he said with a shrug. "But I guess you called Eric to get on the list, so he added you, but didn't tell anyone. The manager came to clear this extra person on my list and I didn't even know I had a list. He showed it to me and hmmm..." He looked over at me and wiggled his eyebrows. "Serena Willis."

"Were you mad that I showed up?"

"It was what it was," he said. "I mean, if I'm being honest right now, I wanted you to come and I wanted to see you and I wanted you to see me play. Everything else... I just let it happen. I saw you sneak in, around 10:30. Move your way around the back and find a corner to stand in. Then I let you know that I knew you were there."

"Sneaky bastard."

He grinned down at me. "Oh, I'm the sneaky bastard."

"Yes, you're the sneaky bastard."

"Yeah, well... I'm your sneaky bastard."

"All mine." I stretched up toward him and puckered my lips for a kiss. I got one.

"Just try getting rid of me, now."

"Nope. Never. I was really scared, JC."

"Me too," he said. "But that's all over now, right? We're not rehashing it tomorrow and next week and next month, right? It's over?"

I nodded and planted a kiss on his bicep. "It is over. Thank God."

"Something else I need to tell you." I rolled my eyes up at him and then sat up when I saw the look on his face. He seemed serious. "I mean, there's a question to be asked. Kinda hanging in the air. At least it is, for me."

I think I probably lost all color in my face... it felt like I did. It also felt like I stopped breathing. He wasn't seriously, seriously asking this question right now, was he? Was he? And more importantly, what would I say?

"See, I can tell by the look on your face that you're not ready for it," he said with a laugh. "I'm not asking.  I decided I'm not going to, until you tell me you're ready. Just let me know when we can talk more about it. I'm not in a hurry." He nodded once, smiling at the color returning to my face. "Mkay?"

"Okay," I breathed. Feeling bad for being so relieved. But also feeling kind of let down. I had almost let myself get excited. "I thought... and I wasn't expecting..."

"It's okay," he said, still laughing, sort of. He pushed a sweaty mass of curls back from my face and gently dipped to kiss my forehead. "Take your time. I want you to be sure. I'll wait."

"Thank you," was all I could say.

So he wanted me to know that he wasn't asking me to marry him? We were back to that? I wasn't sure how I felt about that, this time around.

###

"God, JC. At this point, I don't care what color it is. Just pick a color."

I cradled the phone between my shoulder and ear while I quickly stripped off my street clothes, put on loose clothing and tied my dance shoes. I was late and in a hurry and JC had called at the last possible second with a paint color question.

"Well, I think we agree that we don't want it stark white. But I don't want any weird colors like yellow or brown. I can't concentrate. How about like a creamish color? Or a taupe? Or maybe eggshell?"

All I could do was laugh at the monster I created. After a week on the road with the band, JC sent me home with renovation ideas and to arrange for my belongings, still sitting in Atlanta, to be driven to LA. Now he was home and even though he was being his usual bossy, meticulously detailed self, I couldn't even complain. I loved every minute of it.

Over the course of a few weeks we had almost transformed the entire house from Barefoot Bohemian Artist to California Casual. A mixture of his furniture and mine, his wall hangings and mine, the addition of my rugs and dishes and kitchen appliances was making me very happy. The house--our house--was feeling so much more like our home, now.

Not to mention that Tyler and Allison found a cute, two story starter home not far from us and half of JC's old furniture went to furnish their house.  The only brand new room would be for their brand new addition. Baby Chasez was eagerly and excitedly anticipated.

"JC. Baby. I love you so much right now for caring about this but I really, honestly don't care. It wasn't my idea to paint the office. I just wanted a space to work."

"Well, now you have a huge space to work."

I could hear the echo of his voice in the empty room that once was Tyler's bedroom and was now my office. I picked up a few contract PR and Marketing gigs-one of which was for the Los Angeles Historical Society. The office was going to be finished just in time for me to go back to work.  "But we still have to paint the space. Which color?"

"I don't know," I whined, walking into the already warm dance studio. "I'm at dance class and Lara is glaring at me. Say goodbye, JC."

"Goodbye, JC. Love you."

"You too." I blushed, turning off the phone and setting it behind the counter at the front of the studio. "Sorry. He can't make any decisions without me, these days."

"It's okay," Lara said, beaming a wide smile, leading the small class in stretches. "You guys are so damn cute, I can't be mad. I'm just glad you're back together. You belong to each other. You know how people just... fit?"

"Yeah," I said, smiling back, stretching my arms high above me. "I know."

"When do you leave for Greece?"

"Five days. So let's get moving. I want to be in some kind of shape when I go so I can eat a lot of olives and spanakopita. That shit is good."

"Whatever, girl," she said, but backed up until she was in front of the sound system and put in a CD. Spicy, Latin sounds poured from the speakers in each corner of the room. My hips were already moving with the beat. My feet moved all on their own along the steps we'd learned the week before.

"Alright, now. Let's hit it! Five! Six! Seven! Eight!"