That night, we flew back to Santorini, arriving in time to enjoy a decadent evening meal in Oia with the glowing fire of sunset over the Caldera and the sea as a backdrop. We strolled hand in hand back to our hotel room, the air smelling fresh and feeling cool. We shared the bench outside the patio doors for an hour, watching the moon rise, talking, laughing, plotting the days we had left, dreading the countdown to our return home.

The next days were full and busy. There was a day trip to Mykonos by ferry, wandering from shop to shop, picking up souvenirs and trinkets and mementos to take home; a full day of island hopping from sunrise to sunset; a day spent doing nothing but lounging on a beach called Paradise, sipping wine and tea, snacking on whatever smelled good on the vending carts when we walked past, listening to the waves crash onto the shore and digging our toes into the sand.  

At night, we climbed the steps to the bedroom loft and crowded into that tiny shower. Scrubbed pink and squeaky clean, we fell into bed, gravitating toward the middle, kissing and touching until giggles gave way to moans and heaves and desperate need. After, we collapsed in a heap-him on top, me on top, whichever way we landed, that's where we stayed, our heavy, shallow breaths deepening and lengthening until it was just... quiet.

Those were my favorite times.

"I think we should buy a place here," JC said.

It was the night before our flight home. He laid across the bed on his side, his head on my belly. I was stretched out, fully relaxed from head to toe and propped up on pillows. My fingers glided through his hair, nails dragging across his scalp. His eyes were closed and hums of pleasure vibrated through him.

"You want to buy a place? Here. In Greece, where we have spent all of six days."

"Yeah," he said, not opening his eyes. "I mean, I think we'll come back. Don't you?"

"I'd like to." I couldn't hold back my smile. Maybe we'd make it an annual trip. "I feel like we've seen a lot but not really."

"Exactly. But instead of staying in a hotel, we could stay in our own place. Cheaper." Of course. I was thinking romance. He was thinking cheap vacation. "We could rent it out as a vacation house in the meantime. And George and Ana come out every year, sometimes twice. Maybe they'd want a place to stay when they visit."

"That would only work if we bought a place in Volos and I wouldn't want a place in Volos. It's too..." What was the word?

"Contemporary," he supplied. I nodded. His eyes opened and rolled up to meet mine. Even in the moonlight, they sparkled in bright blue. "So... no house here, huh?"

"Well..." I shrugged a shoulder and kept moving my fingers through his hair. "If you really want to, I think we should think about it. I like it here, but do we like Greece enough to come here that often? Enough to buy a home, here? Even if it does pay off in rentals, it's not like having a house in the Poconos, you know. Let's think about it."

"Okay," he said, eyelids lowering again. "I'll add it to the other stuff I'm thinking about."

I took that to mean that he was still thinking about my question. Hell, proposal. Were it him asking me, he'd be upset if I said I needed to think and refused to answer right away. He, on the other hand, could take his time without worry that it was almost killing me inside to know, to hear him say the word.

Men. I laughed, not at the humor but the irony and only to myself.

The next day in Athens, we boarded our flight back to Atlanta. I was exhausted from our vacation but so rested, so relaxed, so happy. I snapped my seatbelt over my lap and reached for JC's hand. Our fingers wound together, around one another's.

"So. Was I worth the money?" Our eyes met and he laughed, remembering his lecture the night before we flew to Greece.

"Every penny, sweetheart. You were worth every red cent. I had a good time." He squeezed my fingers, wrapped in his. "Did you?"

"The best," I said, a happy sigh escaping my lips as I said it. "I had the best time."

The jet was pulling away from the airport, turning toward the runway, and beginning its race toward the sea, but I had no idea. JC had been right, when he told me about this trip-that I wouldn't be afraid on the way back, because I'd be worn out.

This time, it was me that fell asleep on the plane before we even left the ground.

###

July

JC punched at buttons, flipped levers, turned things off, on, off, on. He fiddled with the pre-installed satellite radio, settling on some awful rock station. He pulled open compartments and adjusted the seats, grinning as the motor quietly hummed and the seats moved forward and back, forward and back.

"See, this is for when we have to switch drivers, because you're short." He grinned at me across the interior of the car. Next was the retractable hard top, which he lowered, then raised, then lowered again. Then raised it.  I smacked his hand away from the button before he could push it again.

"I'm not short. Maybe you're freakishly tall."

"I'm perfectly normal, and you know it."

"We already discussed how you're not normal."

JC was like a kid in a candy store-he had to touch everything, taste everything, try everything out. I watched him, visibly amused. He finally ran out of things to play with and reached for the volume button on the radio. AC/DC lowered from a scream to dull roar.

"I'd want to replace the speakers. I don't like factory speakers."

"Uh huh." I browsed the glossy, eight page brochure about the Mercedes Benz SLK300 Roadster. Candy apple red, leather seats, black interior, top of the line. I was trying to breathe as I stared at the sticker price.

"So, what do you think?"

"I think you love this car, is what I think."

"But it's for you. So what do you think?"

"I think you think this is for me, but it's really for you."

"Serena..." He reached for the radio again, pressing the tune button until something else came on. "Seriously. The car?"

"I think this car is hot." I flipped through the brochure again. "And I think I need you to drop me at Bank of America. So I can rob it."

"Funny," he said. "Well, look... It's just an option."

This option was not quite what I had in mind when I floated the idea to JC. Regina had been doing so well in school and at work and I wanted to do something for her. She'd never be able to afford a car of her own and George and Ana were not likely to buy her one. My car had served me well, had taken the both of us from one side of the country to another. I wanted her to have it while it was still in good shape and I made Charles promise that she could take it to him if she had a lick of trouble out of it. He owed her, I joked, for giving him the daughter he never knew he had.

He laughed like he didn't quite agree, but made the promise anyway. I was due to make my summer trip to Denver and Vail and I wanted to drive the car there and surprise her. That left me with the delightful issue of what I would drive when I got back to LA. Apparently the words "new car" will pry JC away from the couch. He'd dragged me to two Mercedes dealerships before noon.

My head was spinning, mostly from confusion but also from the smell of the showroom, the air heavy with the mix of leather and carpet and car wax. I glanced at the price of the car next to us and wanted to vomit.

"I realize that, JC. But I don't need to replace my sensible Jetta with a Mercedes that starts at--" I almost couldn't say it but choked it out. "Forty... seven... thousand... dollars."

"Okay, I know. It's a lot. But this car is safe. And it's slick and it goes fast, like zero to sixty in ten seconds--"

"Where am I going that fast, JC? Whole Foods? Katsu-ya Sushi?"

He blinked. "Maybe the one in the Valley."  I burst out laughing and he laughed with me. Then, finally, he conceded. "Fine. Okay, this car is too much for you. What do you want to look at?"

"Something that isn't a Mercedes Benz Cost-a-lot 3000. And that has backseats." We both glanced back to the barely-there bucket seats behind us. "I don't work for a big shot company anymore, JC. I have money saved but I can't afford--"

"Serena." JC popped the latch on his door and slid out of the seat and then bent over to peer at me through the opening, leaning an arm across the top of the car. "I don't want to hear about what you can afford. Show me what you want. We'll work it out."

I stared at him for a few seconds before I huffed a frustrated puff of air and opened my car door. It was like the purse, the one that he tried to buy me, which I asked him to return and he ended up giving back to me for Christmas. He'd made up his mind. And he always got his way.

What the hell? Live a little.

I hopped out of the car, determined to just go with it. "Let's just see something more practical. That you won't steal from me. And that isn't red."

###

August

JC's birthday was marked by a visit from his parents and sister and a small but elegant impromptu wedding.

Allison's belly was enormously rounded. Her slight build filled out from bust to knees, her hips were wide and she had begun to waddle from room to room. Though she looked uncomfortable, she laughed easily and often. It wasn't like I'd never seen a pregnant woman before, but she looked so overwhelmingly happy, like carrying a child was something she was meant for. Like being a partner to Tyler was her life's dream.

I'd spent many, many hours at their house, painting and assembling and sorting the piles of gifts that were already arriving, and there were still a few months to go. Allison spent most of that time "testing" the new cherry wood, thick white cushioned rocking glider that JC and I bought for the nursery.  At the height of the summer, it was hard for her to stand for any length of time. Everything swelled-her hands, her feet, her ankles... her boyfriend.

The first time I saw Tyler after our trip, it had been a few weeks since I'd seen him last. I opened the door to let them in and started laughing. And couldn't stop.

"I gained a little sympathy weight," he said, following Allison through the door. His head dipped as if he possessed enough shame to be shy. "What? It happens. Come on."

JC came up from the studio and rounded the corner.  He gave Tyler and his new physique a blank stare for a few moments and then, with an evil laugh, said, "Some sympathy weight? That makes it sound like you just picked up a few pounds. Dude, you're full term."

"Oh, Tyler. Honey." I patted his belly that almost matched Allison's. She giggled hysterically. "You're so roly-poly! I think it's cute!"

He swatted my hand away and tapped his belly, beaming across the room at Allison. "Couldn't let her do all the gaining. She ate, I ate. She slept, I slept. I've leveled out, though. I haven't gained a pound in a couple of weeks."

"I put him on a diet," Allison said, at which everyone, including Tyler, laughed. 

Lara offered the use of her newly renovated dance studio for the wedding, generous because she hadn't even held her first class yet. The wood floors were still gleaming, the crimson walls barely dry, the black velvet drapes newly hung mere inches from the ceiling, adding a tone of decadence as they kissed the floor. 

The ceremony was short but beautiful and tearful. Allison was glowing and lovely in her maternity wedding dress and Tyler wore a blue pinstripe tuxedo. I'd never seen him so formal. Or so serious.

JC was Best Man, dressed in a suit jacket, crisp white shirt, blue pinstripe tie and dark jeans. I was Maid of Honor, considerably more formal in the dress I wore to the Adoption Charity Gala. From time to time, while the vows were being recited or the candles were being lit, JC would catch my eye and give me a subtle wink. I would wink back.

I wondered if he was thinking about us, but then pushed the thought out of my mind. Planning a whirlwind wedding had forced my thoughts toward my own ceremony-what would I prefer? What would I do differently? Could I make do with something small, private, last minute? Or would I take my time and plan every moment? And should I even be thinking about it, because JC hadn't said yes, yet...

The only way to stay sane and not be jealous was to shut off the part of my brain that was working overtime on something that wasn't yet a reality for me. I couldn't sully the moment when Tyler and Allison became one with selfish thoughts. I struggled to stay focused on Allison and her day, Tyler and his day. JC and I would have our day. I hoped.

In an instant, life changed. The man I knew as an obnoxiously loud, crazy frat boy and off- the- wall law school student who couldn't manage to apply himself to study for the Bar Exam, let alone take it and pass was now a married man. He was an expectant father and a licensed, practicing attorney at a promising law firm and an upstanding, law abiding, taxpaying citizen. Life sure had a way of moving time forward.  

Now standing with the happy couple, grinning so widely my cheeks hurt and clapping so hard my palms itched, I was like a proud mama. 

"Do you believe this? That kid is married."

JC stood next to me, his arm around my waist as we watched them walk hand in hand down the center aisle. The small crowed that had gathered applauded, cheered, and offered their congratulations in the form of hugs and hearty slaps on the back. They both seemed so happy, yet relieved.

"Nope, I'll never believe it," I said, shaking my head. "No way is our little Tyler all grown up."

"Aw, don't worry honey. He'll always come home for free food."

I nodded, blinking back tears. "And it'll be like nothing ever changed."

When it came time to learn the sex of the baby, no one wanted to know. At least back then, everyone thought it would be a great surprise to wait and see if the baby was a Mason or a Michelle. As the months counted down, Allison became more stressed out over the thought of not knowing if she should buy pink or blue. Dresses or cute boy short sets. Cute white baby sandals, or cute white baby sneakers.

So, alongside the large, white frosted wedding cake was another smaller cake which served a single purpose. While everyone gathered around, they would cut the cake and find out if the first Chasez baby was a boy or a girl.

Tyler kept trying to peek, looking for a chink in the armor of frosting. "Get away from the cake," I growled. He perked, shrugged as if to say ‘guilty' and walked away. When I wasn't looking, he was back. Karen shooed him away, but I caught her trying to peek, too.

When it was time, the music was lowered and everyone crowded around the small table covered in a black linen cloth. Tyler and Allison each held the handle of the knife. On the count of three, they would bear down and slice into the cake together. Pink filling meant they were having a girl. Blue meant there was a boy on the way.

They stared at each other as the knife sunk in. I'd never seen people slice a cake so slowly.  They leaned down to peek into the crevice made by the knife, and both jerked upward with grins on their faces. When the blade pulled back coated in blue, the room erupted in a cheer. The knife dropped with a clatter onto the table. Tyler wrapped his arms around Allison and the two were a jumble of arms and red faces and belly laughs.   

When they pulled apart again, Tyler's complexion was more ruddy than usual, his dimples remarkably deep and his brown eyes glossy.  He shoved a hand into the pocket of his pants and dug out a handkerchief, dabbing at his eyes and nose. He turned to glance at Roy, who stood off to the side with Karen, his arms folded across his chest, nodding slowly. A proud grin crawled across his face when he saw Tyler look at him, as if he sought approval.    

"Congratulations. I hope your son turns out just like you."

"He deserves that," came a comment from the crowd, breaking the somber mood. The music started up again, blaring from the speakers in each corner of the room.

The formal, serious part of the night was over. The party had just begun.

*

The hour was ungodly. JC was drunk. I wasn't so sober myself.  Thanks to Lara and Michael, we made it to the house somehow and stumbled up the steps, leaning against each other all the way up. We crossed the threshold to the bedroom, aimed for the bed and collapsed, fully clothed.

"That was nice," JC mumbled, his voice thick and his words slurred. "Weddings are nice. But..." He swallowed, breathing hard. "I can't believe Tyler is married."

"Yep." I tried to nod but didn't have much control over my head, so it wagged up and down. "I'm happy for them."

"Me too. They better be happy for us, when it comes. It's coming. Soon."

I sat up, reaching around under my arm for a zipper. "Soon, he says. Fucking tease. I asked him to marry me three months ago and he said he had to think about it. Tonight he says soon."

"I'm still thinking," he said, his voice carrying a tinge of whine to it.

"Think all you want. You're not getting away from me. And I'm not going anywhere. You... you could take a year to answer. I mean... don't...don't take a year... but..."

"I get it," he said, waiving me off. "I know."

"Okay." I laid back, since my head was so heavy my neck could barely support it. "I think I'm drunk."

"I know you're drunk."

I giggled and made my usual request. "Weddings make me horny. Let's have drunk sex."

"Okay."

"Okay?" My head whipped around to him so fast I was dizzy. "You never say yes to drunk sex!"

"We're never drunk at the same time," he said, stabbing a finger in the air. Then he dropped it and added, "Besides. I say yes to things. Lots of things."

"You do, hmm?"

He paused for a moment. "Yes."

"Well... so what else are you saying yes to?"

"Like I said, lots of things. But not things I'm still thinking about."

I groaned, rolling away from him, but his hand on my hip gripped me and pulled. I squealed and pretended to fight until he was on top of me, laughing and kissing, and then nibbling and licking, and moaning and writhing, the weight of his body on mine giving me the same delicious sense of comfort it always had.

Surprisingly nimble fingers worked the buttons and zipper on my dress and peeled it from my body. He tossed it away and undressed himself, clothes flinging left and right. In moments we were naked and lunging for each other, rolling around on the bed until he was deep inside me, moving above me and driving me-us- to incredible heights. 

"Oh, shit. Please don't make this one a quickie."

"Might not have much of a choice," he said, his eyelids half open, his face already showing so much erotic pleasure that I knew he wouldn't last long. "Weddings make you horny. You make me horny. Double whammy, right there."

I sat up halfway, rolling us over so I was on top. I gazed down at him, a languid smile sliding across his lips. He might have been drunk but his hips didn't know it. He moved beneath me like a piston. My eyes began to roll and I let lust take over.

"JC...just...shut up and fuck me."

My brain was fuzzy but clear. I was clumsy, at the same time sharp as a tack. We were drunk, but skillful in our lovemaking. And somewhere in there, I forgot that I was waiting on an answer. 

###

September

LA's rainy season was upon us, lashing the Hollywood Hills with a vengeance. The rain wasn't steady; we'd get a few days of sunshine and then four days of dreary, cold rain.

One night it was storming. Not just raining, but pouring water. Raindrops had spittled from the clouds all day and by night the streets were flowing with runoff from the hills. Thunder shook the windows and lightning crackled across the sky. The weather was ugly. Traffic was uglier.

I'd spent the day with wealthy Californians who were cranky because of the weather but still in the mood to spend money. I raced out of the downtown Art Gallery as soon as I could, but the storm caught me on I-10, crawling toward home. I felt my phone vibrating in my bag in the backseat, but didn't dare take my eyes off of the road or the cars ahead of me. Wet weather was so infrequent that it caused a major panic, characterized by every single resident of Los Angeles merging onto the freeway. I gripped the steering wheel, thankful that the sensible Infiniti Sedan was keeping me safe on the slippery roads.

I made it to our exit and cruised through the streets of West Hollywood. Not even the rain kept the tourists away. I chuckled at the lines of people waiting to get into restaurants and lounges, hunched together under umbrellas or jackets pulled up over their heads.

I pulled into our driveway, waited for the garage door to open and parked in my spot next to JC's car. Before I even turned off the ignition, the interior door to the house was opening.

JC wasn't saying anything, just standing outside my door, staring down at me through the window. Uh, oh.

I stepped out, closing the car door behind me.

"Hi. Don't yell at me. I know you called, but I was just trying to get ho--" He cut me off by bending over me and pressing his lips to mine. I melted, backing up until I was leaning against the car. I was getting wet, but I didn't really care.

"Mmmmm..." The sound seemed to come from his throat, more of a rumble than a moan. He turned his head, deepening the kiss, rolling his tongue over mine. I sighed, mid kiss. He ended the kiss and pulled back, then rested his forehead on mine.

"I was worried about you," he said softly. "There's a reason we got you a car with Bluetooth. I want you to keep your phone with you when you're away from me. I called and called....I'm an artist with a vivid imagination. You can't even believe what goes through my head when I can't reach you."

If there was any un-melted part of me left, it dissolved at his feet. "I know... I'm not used to having the Bluetooth and by the time I thought about it, I was on the road and..." I shook my head, since I had run out of excuses. "I'm sorry," I said, simply. I hoped my pitiful frown and puppy dog eyes were enough to get me out of trouble. Why not? It worked for him.

"You're here, now. Let's go in. We're giving the neighbors a show." He angled his head toward the still open door of the garage and smiled. "Is your bag back here?"  He asked, but was already reaching into the car to pull out my laptop bag and purse. He walked behind me through the garage to the house.

"How was your event? Shitty weather for it, today."

I walked into the house, letting JC pass me and climb the stairs while I told him about the Historical Society reception to kick off a new exhibit of 1930's era photos and antique artifacts. I had expected a muted crowd, but something about having paid $100 a seat and an open bar brought people out in even the worst weather.

JC took my bags to my office and dropped into one of the chairs across from my desk, listening intently to my rambles, nodding and mmhmm-ing in the all the right places.   

"And how was your day?" I asked, embarrassed about going on and on about something he had no interest in.

"Good," he said, with a short nod of his head.

"Just good? Did you have any sessions?"

"Nope."

"Did you do any writing?"

"Uhhhhh...no."

"Did you even cross the threshold of the studio today, JC?"

He grinned. "I haven't done anything all day but watch movies." He lifted his arms and yawned, inhaling a sharp breath. His t-shirt rode up on him, revealing a sliver of pale white skin. "So I don't know what I'm tired from, but I am."

I smiled. "Good for you. You've been working hard. It was a good day to take off. I wish I could have spent it with you."

"Me too. But you're here now."

"I am here now. And it's cold and rainy and I am going nowhere else." To prove my point, I kicked off my shoes and left them under my desk, stood up and walked out of my office. JC followed closely.

"Did you eat anything of nutritional value today?"

"Had leftovers from last night for lunch."

The day before had been a perfect sunny day. JC played Grill Master, lording over steaks and chicken breasts. I made a pasta salad and steamed vegetables. Tyler and Allison joined us for dinner, which we ate out on the patio underneath the setting sun.  

"Are you hungry, now?"

"You just got home. Relax a minute. Don't worry about it."

I stopped in my tracks on the stairs, twisting around to look at him. JC was on my heels and nearly ran me over. "Are you saying you don't want me to make you something?"

"Not at all. Just... you don't have to right now."

"Well if you're hungry--"

"Serena. First of all, move." He was trying to be serious, but his smirk gave him away. "Second, relax. Go sit down."

I pretended to be frustrated but turned around and walked down the rest of the steps to the main landing, hanging a right and heading to the den. The TV was on, but muted. The room was dimly lit by a lamp in the corner and the crackle of a burning log in the fireplace. The rain pelted against the window panes and every so often a rumble of thunder rolled through the air, followed by a flash of lightning that glinted from behind closed blinds and curtains.

"Oooh," I cooed, plopping myself down on the couch, right in the indent that JC's ass must have made all day. "You made it so cozy in here."

JC glared and pointed, wiggling his index finger around. I should have known better. When I finally moved over, he settled back into his spot and kicked his socked feet up to the ottoman. His arm stretched across the back of the couch, behind my head. I grabbed his hand and brought it to my lips so his arm rested across my shoulder.

"Yeah, it's nice. I was waiting for you to come home so we could sit here and enjoy it together."

I rolled my eyes up toward him. "You made your point, JC. I'm here. I wish you would let me make you something."

"And I wish you would relax and stop acting like my personal chef. How helpless do you think I am? In fact--" He got up again, standing over me. "I'll fix it myself."

An eyebrow shot up in surprise. "You? Fix something?"

He sneered. "Yeah. Me, fix something. I'll do something easy, like..." He paused, drumming two fingers on his lips. Then he snapped them loudly. "Like maybe that beef stew. A nice rainy day meal. How's that?"

Not what I was in the mood for, but he looked so pleased with himself. I shrugged. "It's... fine. But I usually kind of doctor up the stew, because it's from a can."

"Okay. Well, I hope you like salt."

"Not too much salt. And... I'd warm up some rolls to go with it. They're in the freezer. There's directions on the package. Oh! And butter the tops of the rolls before they go in the oven, so they get brown and kind of crusty."

JC left the living room and headed to the kitchen, waving his hand behind his head as if he was shooing me away.  I twitched in my seat, not used to waiting for someone to bring me dinner. From the kitchen, sounds of clanging, a can opener, the refrigerator door opening and closing teased me. Maybe I could just watch. 

I got up and quietly crept to the kitchen, then nonchalantly hopped up into one of the bar stool chairs. JC glanced up from stirring a pot of simmering soup.

"What are you doing?"

"Uhm..." I blushed. Caught. "Supervising?"

"Things are fine. This is easy. Go back in there." He pointed toward the den, but I didn't move.

"I just want to watch..."

"You just want to control. I'm fine. Get out."

The soup was boiling. Before I could open my mouth to tell him to, he stirred a few times and turned the heat down, then bent to peer into the oven. The scent of warming bread was already in the air. He seemed satisfied when he straightened again, but then scowled when he saw that I was still sitting there.

"Serena... I'm fine. I promise not to burn down the kitchen. Will you please go back in there and not stand over me, waiting for me to do something wrong?"

"I'm not... ugh, okay." I gave up, sliding off of the chair and slowly backing away, through the dining room, toward the den. "But you call if you need anything, okay?"

JC mumbled something I couldn't hear, and then I was alone and helpless in the living room. I picked up the remote and kicked my feet up onto the ottoman to wait.

The past few weeks... months really, had flown by. Work picked up for the both of us and despite the nagging question lingering in the air, things between JC and I were the best they had ever been. I shuddered at the thought that I had almost lost him and everything that came with him. Our trip to Greece had been an amazing week in which I made up for acting like such a fool and he made me fall in love with him all over again.

Early in our relationship, after I drunkenly confessed my love for him the first time, I felt a shift between us, one I refused to acknowledge for a long time. Ever so slightly, things were shifting again. This time, I was ready and accepting it with open arms. He was taking care of me. I was letting him take care of me. Not exactly throwing caution to the wind, but openly accepting what he offered because he loved me, not because he felt an obligation or because I expected it or because he was trying to win me over. He loved me. It warmed my heart and brought a smile to my face to even think about it. To hear him say it still made me want to cry.

"Soup's on!"

Surprisingly, my stomach rumbled in anticipation of hearty beef stew and hot, freshly baked rolls-that I did not have to cook for myself. I bounced into the kitchen, where JC had set a cute little table for two at the breakfast nook. I slid onto the bench seat and watched him move around the kitchen, mumbling to himself, opening and closing drawers. I propped my elbow up onto the table and bit my palm to keep from asking if he needed any help.

"What do you want to drink?" He opened the refrigerator and peered inside. "We got tea, water, soda, beer..."

"A beer is fine. I could use one, after today."

"Beer it is."

I heard the clang of glass and JC stepped around the door, kicking it closed, the necks of two frosty cold bottles in his hand. "Where do you keep the opener? I can't find it." I pointed toward the correct drawer. He opened it, found the opener and uncapped both bottles in seconds. He set one in front of me, to the right of a steaming bowl of soup and a saucer with two rolls. The other he set in front of his own setting and finally sat down.

"Don't say anything if it's bad. I'm proud of myself, so don't ruin it."

I laughed and blew on a spoonful of stew. "You did great, honey. I'm proud of you, too."

"Good. See? Not helpless. I can cook."

"I know you can. You're just spoiled."

"You spoil me."

"I have to earn my keep somehow."

He looked up at me, his expression flirty, eyes smoldering. "I'd say you've more than earned your keep."

"I'm showing my love, then."

That got him. He blushed and dipped his head toward his bowl. He ate a few spoonfuls of stew and then glanced over at mine. I was already down a roll and my bowl was half empty. He laughed, shaking his head.

"What? I was hungry."

"Nothing. Good. Eat up." He gestured with his hand as if to say ‘go on' and then dropped it back to the table. I reached across the table and curled my fingers around his. We ate in silence for a few minutes, listening to the rain, until I finished and pushed my empty bowl and saucer aside.

I plucked a napkin from the plastic holder on the table and wiped my lips. "That was good, honey. Really good, and I'm not just saying that."

He shrugged. "I was trying to prove a point."

"Point proven. Thank you."

I worked my hand along his arm, stroking the hairs, brushing it so it laid down in one direction. He'd stopped waxing them, thank goodness. I liked him slightly hairy. "You know, I find you pretty sexy right now."

His spoon stopped midway to his mouth. He tilted his head to the side, not unlike a confused puppy. "Because I warmed some stuff up?"

I nodded, stroking and soothing, moving up as far as I could go and back down. He followed the movements of my hands with his eyes.

"And because after a long, hard day of work and a really awful drive home, my man told me to sit on my ass while he made dinner. That's never happened before. It's very sexy, the way you take charge. I like it."

"You did say you liked that, once upon a time." He wiggled his brows and scraped his bowl, spooning the stew into his mouth. "Besides," he added when he had swallowed, "I have to take charge otherwise you'll run all over me."

"Yeah, I'm really demanding."

"Sometimes you don't even say please. So, all I have to do to get you going is open a can of soup?"

"Well..." I glanced toward the pot on the stove, the baking pan with rolls still on it, the melted butter on the counter, the two beer bottle caps laying where he'd flung them. "If you clean up, I'll do you right here on this table."

He laughed so hard his eyes closed and he almost choked. I couldn't help but laugh with him. "I'll get to it in a minute," he said, still laughing as he pushed his bowl aside. He stretched both arms across the table and wiggled his fingers until he held my hands in his.

"Have you talked to Tyler, today? How's Allison doing?"

"She's okay. Real uncomfortable, though. They feel like it'll be soon, maybe in the next couple days. How's Andrea?"

"Holding strong. CJ was overdue and he was a big baby. She's hoping to not have to go through that again."

"Lots of babies, lately." He squeezed my fingers. "Feeling any pressure?"

"Not at all," I said, shaking my head. "I don't want to even think about it until we're settled."

"And we're not settled?"

I shrugged. "Not when you still have a chance to record and tour hanging out there. Why complicate things?"

He paused. "Couldn't I do both?" He asked, after a few thoughtful moments.

I shook my head. "You're the one who said you didn't want to raise kids in LA and the more time I spend in this city, the more I agree." I eyed him, suspicious of his sudden interest in children. "Why? Do you have baby fever? You wanna..." I wiggled my brows. "Put the Baby Maker to work for us?"

He laughed and shook his head, eyeing me back. "Nope. Just asking. Just... asking."

"Okay. Were my answers what you wanted to hear?"

"I didn't really have a particular answer in mind. I just wanted to know your thoughts on it. I think... I think right now I'm okay with being Uncle JC. Kids are a whole another dimension."

And you can't even commit to getting married...

He sighed, blowing out a breath that seemed like it emptied his lungs and squeezed my hands one last time before letting them go. "I better clear this table so we can have sex on it. The Baby Maker likes the practice."

I watched him stand up, stack our bowls and saucers together and carry them toward the sink. "You know I was just kidding about doing you on the table, right?"

He chuckled.

"JC?"

*

Dinner over, kitchen cleaned, stuffy work clothes long since tossed into the laundry hamper, we settled onto the couch. I was toasty next to the blazing fire and comfortable snuggled up next to JC. He'd opened a bottle of wine and we'd already had a glass a piece, so I was also close to tipsy. A movie was on, but I wasn't paying attention to it. I was much more aware of his arm around me, the sound of his laughter through his chest, his heartbeat reverberating through him and thumping in my ear.

And how he smelled. I nuzzled my nose into his throat and inhaled deeply. I could never get enough of his rugged, manly scent mixed with strains of tea tree oil and pumpkin.

"Did you just sniff me? Do I stink?"

"You smell good," I said with a purr. "So sexy."

"Really? What does sexy smell like?"

"You," I answered, simply. He laughed, and I added, "It's different for everyone. Your sexy smells a little spicy, but clean. Heady. Intoxicating. I could get drunk off of you."

"Hmmmm," he mused, muting the TV and tossing the remote onto the table. Both arms closed around me, wrapping me up in him. I clung to him, my arms around his waist. "Your sexy smells like whatever that is you wash your hair with."

I giggled, the sound muffled in his chest. "You're so romantic, honey."

"I'm serious. I love that smell. I like when I know you're close because I can smell your hair."

"Aww. That's better."

He squeezed a hand between us to tip my chin up so he could see my face. Or more to the point, drop his lips to mine and kiss me. "We have unfinished business," he muttered, his lips fluttering softly over mine, his tongue flicking so lightly it tickled.

"We do," I said, smiling against him. "Your reward for being so awesome."

He pushed against me until I moved over on the couch and could lay down. He stretched out next to me, one leg wedged between mine, one arm under my head. My t-shirt was pushed up and over my bra-less breasts, nipples already at attention, reaching toward him. He blessed each of them with a flick of his tongue before he took one, and then the other into his mouth. He hummed and sighed as he worked his tongue around supple skin. I couldn't do much but bury my fingers in his hair and moan.

When he was satisfied, he moved up and reclaimed my lips. His tongue darted in and out and around in a mad fury of passion while a hand worked at the band of my pants. I lifted my hips to slide them down and kicked them off. He now roamed freely and undeterred from my chest to my knee and then worked its way up my inner thigh. With a thumb, he found the spot that made me tear my lips from him and utter a loud grunt. My hips convulsed and then fell into rhythm with his steady, circular pattern.

"That's it," he whispered between kisses down my neck. "I want to hear you."

"Unh... shit!" I yelped as a strong shock flew through me. I grabbed at the band of his jeans and pulled the button and zipper. I worked my hand into the open gap and stroked him, matching the speed and intensity that he was using on me. He heaved a breath and his head dropped to my shoulder. His hips jerked and the movement of his thumb sped up. Again, I matched his speed.

He panted hot breaths on my shoulder, occasionally muttering his pleasure. Suddenly, he stopped. He scooted down the couch, grabbed a leg and tossed it over his shoulder, gripped the other thigh and held it there. I felt him, warm and wet as his mouth closed over me.

"Fuck! Yes!" I might have screamed it. I was delirious with pleasure, who knows? He hummed, sending waves up my body and my eyes to the back of my head.  My entire body was shaking in anticipation. I was teetering on the edge... just a little bit more...

"God, I wanna come...make me come. I can't take it, make me come..."

"Mmmhmmm," he hummed. His eyes flicked up toward me and his tongue did not stop moving. An intense pressure was building and before I could prepare myself, a sensation that was something like a fireball shot through me. My hips jerked up off of the couch, my body convulsed, my head tossed back and a long, gut-level sound pulled from my throat.

JC kept working through residual twinges from my hips until I pushed against his forehead with my palm. "Okay, okay. Jesus..."

I was lightheaded and could hardly breathe. My ears were plugged and the room seemed much darker. I fell back against the cushion and tried to suck in some air.

JC stood, picked up the pants I had shed and walked out of the living room.  I sat up, confused.

"Wait.... Where are you going?"

"Upstairs," he answered, without turning around. He was halfway up the steps, already. "You can stay down there on that little couch if you want. I'll be up there in our big ol' bed."

With a burst of energy that I didn't know I still had, I shot up off of the couch and followed him up the steps.  By the time he emerged from the closet where he'd removed all of his clothes, I had tossed off the t-shirt and was waiting on him.

"About time you made it to bed," I said, snickering.

He slid between the sheets and moved until he was right up against me. "Good things come to those who wait."

"I hope so," I said, my thoughts on another subject entirely.

He caught my wistful tone, smiled and leaned down to kiss me. "You've been great about giving me time. Just a little longer. Okay?"

My bottom lip crept between my teeth and I bit down on it. I nodded and then said, "Okay. Are you punishing me?"

His eyes clouded, and the "V" between his eyes that I hated so much made an appearance. "No. I'm not punishing you. I've never..." He cut himself off and shook his head. "No, I'd never do that to you. Okay?"

I nodded, bobbing my agreement quickly. I needed that "V" to go away. It dissipated slowly and the seductive look in his eyes returned.  

"I don't mean to push. I'm sorry."

"I know. Just a while longer."

"Okay," I said again, with a hopeful smile. "And now I've ruined the mood."

He laughed, moving his body over mine. "Says who? Honey, I'm just getting started."

*

At 6:02 am, JC's phone rang. I vaguely remember him getting up out of bed before drifting back into sleep. When I woke up again an hour later, his side of the bed was still empty. I slid out from under the warm covers into the chilly room, wrapped myself in a terry cloth robe that we'd brought back from Greece and went in search of him.

I found him in the den, poking at the remains of the fire we'd left smoldering the night before. The room was warm, at least. I smelled coffee.

"Hey," I said quietly, in case he hadn't heard me come in. His head whipped around, his eyes registering surprise.

"Hey, baby. What are you doing up?"

I dropped onto the couch where I'd sat the night before. "Apparently I can't sleep without you, either. Did I hear the phone ring?"

"Yep," he said, returning the poker to its spot next to the fireplace and closing the iron barrier that kept embers from popping out onto the carpet. He sat down next to me and drew me to him, wrapping both arms around me.

"Mason Roy Chasez is here. Born around 4am. Baby and mama are fine. Daddy is a little punch drunk."

The thought of Tyler holding a squirming, wriggling replica of himself made me smile. "That's so good to hear. I'm excited for them."

"Yeah. I think we'll be surprised at what kind of father Tyler turns out to be."

"Fun, for sure."

"He's also tried every trick in the book. That kid won't get away with anything."

"It'll be fun to watch him try."

We both sighed at the same time, watching the fire still glowing. The rest of the house was quiet except for the rain that still tapped gently on the windows.

"Serena, I'm--" JC started. Then stopped. Then started again. "I'm not holding out for no reason. I'm trying to make a decision that affects us and our future, and--"

I sat up so I could see his face. He had huge bags under his bloodshot eyes. "If it affects us and our future, shouldn't we talk about and decide?"

"I... guess. I just... I'm sort of deciding if I want to decide."

"Why? I mean why are you putting off deciding?"

"Because if I... if my answer is yes to you then I feel like it's no to the other thing. But I don't want my answer to be no to the other thing so I just haven't decided."

"Why? Okay, is this about music? About the contract from Sony?" He nodded. "JC..."

I stopped, took a breath. Easy. Don't push.

"You put so much pressure on yourself and you don't need to. It's not one or the other. It doesn't have to be-"

"But last night you reminded me that we've both said that we don't want to raise a family here. If my answer is yes to you, then kids aren't that far behind and I don't want to be absent for that. We're not getting any younger and I don't want to wait forever.

"But... if my answer is yes to the contract, then I start being absent a lot. Writing and recording and touring. I feel like... I feel like I'm straddling a line, here."

He sucked in a breath, glanced around the room for a second before his eyes returned to me. "To be honest, I never really thought I would make it back to this place again. And if I take this chance, I want to give it my all."

I shook my head, my eyes closed, taking in his dilemma. He had been blindly stabbing at things in his musical future. Never in a million years did he think he'd hit a bulls-eye. Well, surprise.

"You're so all or nothing, JC. You have two speeds-- blazing fast and negative nothing. How about some balance?"

His hands flailed around, miming the frustration that marked his face. "What does that even mean? Doing music has always meant that my personal life gets put on hold. I cannot do both. Not well, anyway."

"But it doesn't have to, is what I mean. I'm not with you for the Baby Maker, you know. Saying yes to me doesn't mean we go into kid mode right away. It just means you love me enough to want to bug the shit out of me for the rest of my life." He chuckled-or tried to. "I'm not looking for instant family, like your brother. You have things that you want to accomplish before you even start thinking about adding babies to this family and I do, too. And I want you to do what makes you happy. If that's writing and recording and touring, then goddamnit, you're going to do that. And I am going to be happy for you, because I'll be right there next to you."

"But I want you to be happy, too-"

"And I already told you what makes me happy. You doing what you want to do and letting me be there to support you, because you already let me do what I want to do and you support me all the way."

I reached up and grabbed his chin, directing his line of sight toward me. "You don't have to sacrifice what you want, for me. Would you be selfish for just one minute? What do you want to do? What would make you happy?"

He licked his lips, seeming hesitant to even put the words out there.

"If... if I thought lightning could strike twice for me... and I could have you there to share it with me, to keep me grounded and keep my eye on what's really important and get us to that point where we wouldn't have to be in LA for me to do what I do..." He stopped, shrugged a shoulder, and lowered his eyes.

"That's what would make you happy?"

He nodded and mumbled a gruff, "Yeah. It would."

"Then why on earth would you ever consider not going for it? Do you think that I don't want that, for you?"

"No, I-I just want to do the right thing. I don't want to make a mistake and almost lose you again."

"God, JC..." I stroked his cheek, trying my best to soothe the away the worry lines across his forehead and around his mouth. I kissed him softly, on the corner of his mouth, and then full on, on the lips.

"I'm sorry that I scared you into thinking that might happen, but that's part of our past, now. I love you, and I want to be with you, no matter what. I've been waiting for a one word answer for like... six months. I think that's proof of that. Don't you?"

He blinked a few times, his face reflecting a thoughtful gaze. His index finger ran under his bottom lip, absentmindedly working the patch of hair growing there. "Yeah. Okay, so..."

"So... it sounds like you have an answer, to me."

His eyebrows arched upward. "To both questions."

My heart stopped, literally stopped beating inside my chest. "Really? Are you saying yes?"

JC held me in suspense for a few long moments before he smiled and tipped his head forward until our faces were mere inches apart. "Not quite yet."

I pushed away from him, poking out my bottom lip. "You, sir, are a turd."

He laughed at my pout. "I'm your turd."

"I don't want a turd. I want a fiancé."

He grabbed me by the shoulders and I let him pull me close to him again. "You'll have one. Soon. I promise. And what do we say about promises?"

I tipped my head back so I could see his face. Or, more to the point, kiss his lips. "We're not going to make that one the first one we break."