Despite my best intentions, I'm sitting in my office, staring at a half written document, tapping my pen against the hard plastic frame of my laptop, and thinking.

Daydreaming, really. About the kiss at the engagement party. And the call that night, when he told me, face-to-face, though virtually, that he was still in love with me.  Remembering how he felt against me that night in front of the fire pit. His scent surrounding me. The scratch of stubble against my cheek when he got close enough to kiss me. And his lips. His mouth, actually. He always did kiss well. He knew exactly what buttons to push to turn me on.

Still. He still knows how to turn me on. He should. He knows me better than anyone.

This week is whizzing right past me.  I had planned to take some well-earned and much needed vacation time before flying off to St. Lucia and I only had three days in the office to wrap up finished cases as much as possible and get the open cases to a point where I could pick them up when I came back.

True to his word, a courier showed up Monday morning with Perry's petition to settle the case of Bailey v. Ramirez. Bailey would let Carlos and Gloria out of their lease without penalty. He would also revert the rent to the previous monthly allotment before he raised it mid-year and would refund the balance, less the insurance deductible for the damage that Emilio Santos caused when he was looking for his wife. In return my clients would drop their claim against Bailey-which they've already agreed to do.

I feel a bit guilty, being celebrated at the office with flowers and a cake from our sweets-obsessed Office Manager. I'd won plenty of these cases but it was my first against Perry, namely against the formidable JC Chasez. And I didn't really win. He gave up.

Flanning, one of the senior partners, tried to reassure me about the outcome. "I'm sure he realized he didn't have any dirty tricks to pull this time, and you'd win. So rather than be embarrassed in open court, he took the ‘L'."  He formed an L with his thumb and forefinger and lifted it to his forehead.  "We'll take the ‘W', no problem." His fingers formed a W and he laughed. I couldn't help but giggle at him and take another bite of cake.

Tyler found me in my office late Monday afternoon. He'd been in court all day, so he was dressed to impress in tan Calvin Klein dress slacks and jacket, a dark brown shirt and tie and chocolate brown dress shoes. I gave him an obvious once- over and smiled my approval. His brother must have taken him shopping-not only is he looking great lately, but I see the JC influence in the cut and the style.

"Hey," he said, stepping into my office after a light knock-knock. "I hear we're celebrating a win today."

I waved him off, but grinned. "Aw, it's nothing. Just my first win against Perry, against JC Chasez, a day for the record books, that's all."

He laughed while slipping off his jacket. It's early fall but still warm in Florida. There are sweat circles under his arms and droplets of moisture at his waistline. "Well, it sucks that you had to beat my brother to get such a great win, but congrats. Proud of you."

"Thanks." I glanced back at my desk, which is covered in folders, notepads, my laptop, my phone and pads of Post-It notes. "Now if everything else goes smoothly, I won't feel guilty about taking time off. You're coming to the wedding, right?"

He nodded vigorously. "Wouldn't miss it. Getting excited about it, actually. I can't wait to hit that beach. I might go nude out there. Gonna burn the shit outta myself though."

"Hey, remember we had that talk about things we don't need to know about each other? That's probably one of them."

Tyler bunched his jacket together in one fist and moved toward the door. "Well I'm in the office all week and my case load is around a level two, so throw anything at me that you want me to watch or handle for you when you're out." 

I gave him an appreciative nod as he stepped out. At some firms the Partners or Case Assignment Clerk will ask for a Busy Level to decide who gets cases and who gets research and who goes to court.  At one or two, you're handling your cases but could do more and should be asking for more work. At three, you're doing everything a two is doing but could do more if it was a low level case or a one-off court appearance. A four generally means your hair is on fire, you can't find your desk under all of your case files and you might throw something -namely yourself -- out of a window if you're asked to take on any more clients. I've been at a four once. It wasn't pretty.  I try hard to keep myself at three.  I function best with a lot to do and a wide variety of cases to work on.

It also keeps my mind busy, full of law and task lists and things that have to do be done. I don't have time for my brain to drift to thoughts of JC, of the things he said to me while we danced. Of the confessions he made to me in the shadows. I don't have time to remember the grit in his voice, the pull of emotion at the edge of his words.

‘You're all I've ever wanted, Angie. I'm tired of pretending that's not true.'

There are two sides of me in bitter battle. One side is staunchly against believing anything JC has to say. That side of me remembers every hurtful word he's ever said to me; the anger and disgust at having to watch him parade new girls-and later women-in my face; the callous and careless way he's treated me for the last eighteen years.

The other part of me has come to the glowing conclusion that I am not seventeen years old anymore.  That maybe people change and evolve and maybe peace can be found in letting go of stupid shit from high school. It isn't like I didn't know it was dumb to hang onto all that hurt and pain... it was that JC was always there to remind me of it. And instead of forgiving him and moving on with my life, I used it, as he put it, to stay angry. As long as I was angry, I couldn't forgive him.

Because if I forgave him and forgot about all that immature self righteous anger, then I might remember the feelings I had for him. I might conjure up some memories of the great times we had together. I might think about what he said out by the fire pit that night-how we had been best friends one day and nothing the next. Attached at the hip for most of our lives and then it was like a body part had been removed. I might remember that I miss him, too. More than I care to admit.

At 7PM I give up and start to shut things down. My cases are either closed or not. At this point, it doesn't matter; it's just paperwork. I pack up my laptop and grab my bag, slipping the handles over my shoulder. I push in my chair, and take one last look at my desk for the next two and a half weeks.  I close and lock my office door and by the time I reach my car, there's a bounce to my step and work is the furthest thing from my mind.

That night, I join the girls for drinks at Prime. Well, most of us have drinks. Poor pregnant Jackie has to make do with a virgin spritzer- ginger ale and juice.  She asks the waitress to serve it in a martini glass so she can feel like she's drinking.

We're a rowdy bunch, loud and cackling with laughter at everything. The group pulses with the mounting, palpable excitement of the pending Bachelorette party and the Shut In and the week on an island, far away from civilization. This feels, for some reason, like a last hurrah. We're partying like we're never going to party again.

"I'd like to thank the geniuses that planned this wedding in October, and not next year when I can drink." Jackie turns to give me a playful glare before she takes another sip of her passion fruit spritzer.

I shrug and smile. "It actually wasn't up to me. I was gunning for next summer. JC was the one who insisted we do it this year."

"It's okay," Morgan slurs, on her fourth or fifth drink-I've lost count. Her thin arms flail, giving away her excitement and alcohol fueled emotion.  "I'm ready to do this, man. Let's just... let's just go for it. Finally. You know?"

"Hey, Morg... let's go outside for a little bit okay? Get some fresh air."

I grab her arm and help her off of the bar stool, then slide my arm over her shoulder and guide her toward the door. It's too early for Morgan to be swaying in her seat, her eyes rolling back in her head.

We make it to the door and walk a few steps down the sidewalk. Morgan takes long, deep breaths, like she's trying to cleanse herself, like this will help her sober up. In between breaths, she's rambling about the wedding. She's always rambling about the wedding these days.

"So, I need to ask you about something," I say, interrupting her stream of consciousness. "I've asked you about it before but a little birdie told me to ask you again."

Morgan walks to the curb and plops herself down on the sidewalk, stretching out her legs in front of her. Her skinny jeans are painted on, her stiletto heels shiny and covered in gold sparkles. They match her blouse, which is red with gold glitter.

"Shoot," she says, patting the concrete next to her.  I sit, trying to think about how I'm going to bring this up.

"You wanna know about why Nick and I are finally getting married, right? After all this time, for kind of no reason. Right?"

I wince, but nod. "Yeah. I had a conversation with JC last weekend and he mentioned that he had a big talk with Nick and-"

"And Nick spilled our secret." She nods, her eyes focused on the pavement of the street in front of us. Her bottom lip creeps between her teeth and she chews on it for a few seconds. "So, it's story time, then. Brace yourself."

"Okay. Braced."  

"Well. You remember that Nick went to medical school and he did his residency in Atlanta, right?" I nodded, remembering. That was a long span of time, the longest Nick and Morgan had ever been apart. It was hard on Morgan and she spent a lot of time in Atlanta.  

"We purposely picked Atlanta, because Nick felt like he needed to get out of Orlando. Out from under his dad's thumb. Out from this place he knows so well, the medical community that has known him since he was a kid."

"Yeah. Has to be hard, when people's expectations are already set."

"Right. So Atlanta. It was hard, you know that. And for Nick and I, it was really hard because while he was up there, he decided he wanted to... uh, explore."

My left eyebrow twitches and rises without my consent. Morgan glances at me and laughs. "Yeah that's the exact look I had on my face, after I drove eight hours to see my man and he sits at dinner and tells me about how he feels guilty that he's the only man I've ever been with, and doesn't want me to have any regrets, so we should break up for a little while and play the field."

Morgan snorts. "Right. So what happened was that he met this girl. This doctor in his residency. I guess she was super hot or whatever. And he was horny and maybe curious about other women, but he felt guilty because he was with me and had been with me for..."  Her eyes glaze over as if she is mentally counting the years. "For forever. We'd been together forever. And I thought we'd be together forever. I never had any plans to be with anyone else. Nick is all I have ever wanted or needed." 

She sighs, scooting herself back from the curb, bringing her legs in and loosely crossing them.  "So. We... broke up."

"Shut up," I said, barely breathing. How could I not know? How could she not tell me? "For how long? What happened? You could have told me, Morgan."

She shakes her head. "No. I couldn't. I couldn't tell anyone, because the only thing that everyone knows for sure about me is that I'm with Nick. I've only ever been with Nick. I'm only ever going to be with Nick. So if I have to look at all my friends and family and tell them...." Her voice fades and she looks away, down the street at the other businesses in the strip mall. A few cars pass before she picks up again. "I just couldn't admit that. I couldn't confess that I didn't have a fairy tale relationship. That we weren't perfect. That I wasn't everything Nick needed."

My heart is breaking for her, my little ball of sunshine. I never knew she was struggling with so much. Alone.

"So, while we were broken up, Nick was still calling me, emailing me. Like we were friends. I was dumb and asked about the chick. It took him a minute but he confessed to fucking her. I kind of lost it after that. I hung up on him. I left my place-remember I had that shitty little apartment in Dr. Phillips?" I nod. It was close to Universal and a lot of cast members lived there.

"There's this seedy little bar, just down the street from that apartment complex.  I went there. Got totally shitfaced. Of course, I got hit on all night, which made me think I'd have no problem finding another man. Picked a guy that didn't seem riddled with disease. Brought him home. Fucked him."

I'm pretty sure I'm sucking in all of the air outside when I gasp. My hands fly to cover my mouth. I feel like my eyes are the size of saucers.

"He wasn't bad," she said, nonchalant. "He was different, but not bad. It just wasn't what I thought it would be. I thought I was getting back at Nick. I thought I was doing something for myself. I thought I was just... moving on."

She shakes her head, side to side, slowly and then more rapidly until she looks like she's having a manic seizure. I grab her by the shoulders to get her attention. When she stops she looks up at me. Her face is streaked, her makeup smudged. I've never seen her so sad, and I'm suddenly sorry I had to ask about this story.

"How long were you guys not together?"

"About a month. We wouldn't be together today if Nick hadn't worked so hard to get me back."

 "So he was the one who came back?"

Morgan nods. "Yes. He came back to me almost right away, actually. It took me some time to work things out inside my head and my heart. That guy meant nothing to me. That girl meant nothing to him. We meant everything to each other."

Surprised, my eyebrows lift and I sit straight up. I've never seen Morgan alone. She has always had a boyfriend. I would have pegged her as the one to put them back together.

I'm nodding, liking the direction of the rest of this story. Obviously they made up, but I wanted to hear that they went through a process to get back together. I'm about to go through the same process.

"He asked me to marry him, when we got back together. A long, long time ago. But...I couldn't say yes. I felt like we needed some more time to be real with each other. I needed more time to figure out if he was really everything I needed. Really everything I wanted. What would happen the next time he got bored and needed to explore? What if I got pissed again and decided to go find some other guy? That can't be my base response. So we put off marriage and worked on ‘us'."

"Right... so now?"

She glances at me, the happiness returning to her eyes. "Nick has worked so hard, over the past ten years. He's been nothing but good to me. Faithful and supportive and loving and always there. He believes in everything I want to do with my life. He's just.... he's everything. I finally felt like we were solid. So he asked me, kind of joking."

She giggles and blushes, then gives me a huge grin. "I told him I'd marry him if he was serious. He didn't believe me for the longest time. I had to convince him that I was serious. He proposed for real over Memorial Day."

"Wow. Ten years later." I elbowed her and laughed. "And you give me shit about JC."

"Oh," she said, wagging a long finger, tipped with a perfectly manicured nail. "I didn't wait ten years to realize I loved him and I wanted to be with him. You... you and JC are just stupid. Stupid for each other, stupid about each other."

My body hurts with the effort to not say something to her, to spill and dish about my recent conversations with her favorite subject lately. I'm aching to tell her about The Kiss. But I don't. I can't, not just yet. Besides, I know exactly what she will say, and I don't want to hear it right now.

"So that's the story of how Nick and Morgan aren't that fairy tale couple everyone thinks we are. In some ways, though, I think that experience saved us. Before that, I felt like we were just going with the flow. We said we'd talk marriage after Nick finished his residency and came back to Florida to open his practice, but we weren't really planning for it, you know? We became more serious about each other after that. I think we just knew that we'd have to hang onto each other. It wasn't going to be easy. We weren't going to be able to coast through this relationship, like when we were in high school. This is the hard part."

I understand. So much now, I understand.

Morgan rolls herself to the side so she can stand up. She offers me a hand and pulls me up, then brushes her hands together to remove dirt and pieces of pavement from her palms.

"Well. That was sobering. We're in the middle of a big ass party, aren't we? Let's go drink! Jackie will drive us home."

Laughing, I link arms with her and walk her back inside. I have a different impression of my best friend now. Strong, capable, and completely sure of where her life is going. I admire her. Still. I admire her relationship, still.

And I still want a relationship like hers.

***

I hear hammering in my head. An insistent hammering that will not stop. Except, I realize as my eyes creep open, I it's not in my head. It's somewhere in my apartment.

The door. Someone is knocking on the door.  I remember that I stumbled up the steps around 3 AM and collapsed on the couch.  It is there that I have awakened to the sound of someone at my door.

I sit up and immediately regret doing so, at least so quickly. I grab for my phone inside the purse I tossed haphazardly onto the coffee table.  I press the Home button to bring it to life and squint to read the screen. 10:44AM.

Who the hell is at my apartment at 10:44 AM?

The knocking continues, louder and more rapid. Now I'm pissed. I hurl myself and stalk to the door. I fling it open without checking the peephole, ready to stab the salesman or Mary Kay lady or Boy or Girl Scout on the other side.

"What?" I practically scream, before I even see who's standing there. I'm face to... well, chest with JC, who fills my doorway with his arm raised, mid-knock. I lift my head so I can see his face, then cringe at the deeply amused expression there.

I turn around and walk back into my apartment, leaving the door open under the assumption that JC will follow me inside. He does, closing the door behind him.

"What are you doing here?" My voice sounds funny, like there's a frog stuck in my throat. "I'm on vacation. I can't even sleep in?"

I flop onto the couch and tuck one leg under me. JC takes a seat at the other end. "It's almost 11 o'clock. You gonna sleep all day?"

"Maybe. Did I mention I was on vacation? You didn't answer me. What are you doing here?"

"I had coffee with Keith this morning. He spent the entire time laughing because Bridget called in sick today. He took the kids to school so she could sleep. Totally hung over." He laughs and crosses one leg over the other. He's wearing jeans and a t-shirt and sneakers. On a Thursday.

"Anyway, from what Keith said, it was quite the party. I came by to see how you were doing."

"I'm alive," I manage to squeak out, rubbing my hands over my face and combing my fingers through my hair. Since I'm starting to wake up, I'm aware that JC is in my apartment right now.  "Why are you not at work?"

JC stares at me for a few seconds, as if the answer will come to me by osmosis. I stare back, I'm sure looking as blank as ever.

"I told you I was leaving Perry."

"Oh." Blink blink. "So you already left? Just... settled the case and left?"

"Yep. Done. I'm surprised Tyler didn't tell you. My parents are all abuzz about it."

"I haven't seen much of him this week. I've been trying to get my caseload in order, since I'm going to be gone. And he's been in court." I look over at JC and smile. "By the way, I can totally tell that you took Tyler shopping. He's wearing your style of suit, but he looks great."

JC shakes his head. "I didn't take him. Of course he looks good, if he's jocking my style... but that wasn't me."

"Oh. Well."

"You think I have a style?"

"Of course you do. I'd know you from a mile away."

"Really." He strokes his chin, brushing the hairs in his light beard down. "I didn't think you paid that much attention."

Well, fuck Angie. Admit to thinking about him nonstop, while you're at it.  

"I hardly think you having a style has anything to do with me paying attention. Everyone knows your style."

"Yeah, but..." He wags a finger at me. "You noticed. That's what's important."

"Whatever. So what are you doing with yourself, since you're unemployed? Besides sitting in the parking lot outside my apartment?"

JC seems to relax, sinking into the fabric of the couch and laying his arm across the tops of the cushions. The fingers of one hand tap a beat on his knee. "I've been keeping busy around the house. Getting some things done that I usually don't have time to do. Working on a couple of things for my Uncle." He aims his baby blues right at me. "I've been occupying myself pretty well, I'd say. Not bored yet."

"Good," I say, nodding.  "That's good."

"Yeah," he says, seeming to agree. This is the most civil conversation we've had in... forever. I'm amazed at how I've shifted from hating the very sight of him to being nervous that he's here, at my apartment. And that I look a mess.

Suddenly embarrassed, I leap up from the couch. "Uh... so I got home really late last night and crashed on the couch and I'm sure I look really bad-"

"You don't, by the way," he says. "You look like you had a good time but you're always beautiful to me."

I feel the flush of pink rising from my chest and overtaking my face. I don't want to smile and blush and be flattered, but I do and I am.  Instinctively, my hand goes toward my hair, which by my estimation resembles a rat's nest. I slept in my clothes, so my blouse is wrinkled. I never took off my makeup and I always get raccoon eyes when I sleep in eye shadow and mascara. Beautiful, I am not, but I take his flattery as intended-compliments from a man who says he's still in love with me.  I blush again at the thought.

"Anyway, I need to grab a quick shower, so..."

"I'll wait. I thought we'd go to breakfast. You look like you need some grease to soak up that hangover."

"Oh."

"So go." He shoos me away with the flick of his wrist, then leans forward to grab the remote. "Lunch rush at Grand Luxe sucks. Let's try to get there before noon."

I'd started to walk away but stopped at the mention of my favorite place. What used to be our favorite place. "Grand Luxe?"

"Of course, Grand Luxe. You like the chocolate chip pancakes." He snaps his fingers at me and tries to glare. "C'mon lady. Time's wasting. I'm hungry."

Less than an hour later I am freshly showered and comfortable in a thin, flowy maxi dress, tucked into a booth at Grand Luxe Café with a hot cup of coffee, across from JC. The menus stay on the edge of the table, since neither of us needs one.  While waiting for the waitress we chat about the wedding, the parties coming up over the weekend, the weather. Everything but the giant elephant in the room.

The waitress arrives to take our order, all smiles and southern charm. She's chewing gum and cracking jokes as she refills coffee and water, then pulls a pen from its resting place behind her ear. I have my usual chocolate chip pancakes with a side of eggs and bacon. JC has ordered the peanut butter and banana pancakes as long as I've known him. True to form, he places an order for his usual. The waitress collects the menus we never used and then we are alone again, as alone as we can be in a restaurant slowly filling with the lunch rush.

"So," JC says, folding his arms and then leaning onto the table. It brings his face closer to mine. "Have you had a chance to think about what we talked about?"

I reach for the tiny cups of cream, rip the cover off of three of them and pour them into my coffee. I do the same with packets of sweetener, then pick up my spoon and stir. "What we talked about? What did we talk about?"

His eyes narrow, though I can see a playful spark in them. He's almost smiling. "You're stalling. Don't think I don't know that."

"I know you know. I'm hoping you'll pick up that stalling means I don't know if I'm ready to talk about it yet. I haven't decided how I feel."

"What's to decide? You feel it or you don't. And don't tell me you don't. Especially lately-I know you're just as shaken up about it as I am."

"You don't seem shaken up," I say, bringing the mug to my lips. I take a sip of coffee and set the mug back into its groove in the saucer. "You seem pretty confident in your feelings. In my feelings, too. You're pretty much telling me how I feel right now."

"I'm not telling you how you feel. I'm acknowledging it. Just like I'm acknowledging how I feel. You don't think it's weird for me to suddenly realize I still have a thing for you? Do you know how long I've been thinking of dirty comebacks and nasty things to say to you?"

"A couple of decades? That's how long I've been mad at you."

"And are you still mad?"

"I'm not," I insist, shaking my head. "I promise I'm not. Just... right now I'm thinking about things."

"Like?"

"Like the timing. You said it yourself-weddings bring out the worst in people. It makes people reassess their personal lives when two of their friends commit themselves to each other forever. Maybe... I don't know, maybe-"

"You think I'm just lonely and reaching out for the first warm body because my best friend is getting married?"

I sink back into the warm fabric that covers the booth. "No, not like that. But maybe we're getting caught up in the romanticism of the event. Maybe it would be better if we waited until the wedding was over before we made a huge decision like getting back together."

"Okay, I'd picture you falling for that. But do you think I'm that kind of guy? Do you think I'm the type to base my life around a ceremonial event for two people who've pretty much been married since they were five?" He clicks his tongue, reaching for the glass of water in front of him. He sips, then comments, "That's a weak argument, Counselor."

I sigh and roll my eyes, but can't stop myself from laughing.  "Sidebar, your honor?"

He nods. "Granted."

I lean forward, resting my elbows on the table. "Okay, for real...I have thought about it. I've thought about it nonstop. I can't think of anything else."

"And?"

"And..." I give him a bewildered look. "I'm scared. Honestly, I'm scared out of my mind that I'll give in to this and be disappointed or it won't work or it'll be like all those times when you would be nice for a few weeks and then out of nowhere, you'd do or say something ugly. I can't hear all those pretty things you said to me and then fall into some elaborate trap, JC. I can't take that."

"First of all, there's no trap, Angie. I promise there is no trap, okay? And second? I get it, I understand that we have a lot of history and most of it, on average, is bad. I don't have any excuse for my behavior except that I wanted you. I wanted to be with you and I didn't know it. You're Morgan's friend, so I still had to see you all the time and that was hard for me.  I still felt things for you but didn't know why and the only way I knew to combat that was to lash out.

"And also I got jealous a lot. I'd see you at Prime with some guy-like who's that guy you dated for about a year?" He snapped his fingers together, his eyes blinking quickly, furiously trying to remember a name. "Doug or... Mike or..."

"Steven," I answered. Steven was a fellow attorney. We had a great connection, lively conversation and debate and he was incredible in bed. But I wasn't in love with him and couldn't make myself fall in love with him. After a year, I knew it wasn't going to happen for me, despite his confession of love and desire to get married. I had to let him go. Six months later, I got a Facebook wedding announcement. He'd met someone right after we broke up. They hit it off, had a hot and heavy courtship and got engaged. I've never been so happy for an ex-boyfriend.

"Yeah. Him. I'd see you with him and just go crazy and not know why. My brother would tell me all the time, ‘hey you know you're still in love with Angie right?' I almost punched him one day-he just wouldn't let it go."

"He told me about that."

As if I caught him off guard, he's frozen in place for a few seconds. Then, timidly, he asks, "He told you that?"

"Mmmhmm. He's been telling me for years that you're still in love with me. And I told him he was crazy."

"So then... how can you think that I'm just getting caught up in wedding fever? You know it's not just the wedding. It's not just our two best friends showing us what we should be doing, what we should have done a long time ago."

"Because it isn't just that."

"Okay, what else?"

"It's that... I mean, it's been a long time since we were together. I meant what I said on the trail that day. You really expect us to pick up where we left off. Just get back together and everything's the same? It won't be."

He is already shaking his head in disagreement. He reaches across the table and grabs my hand, pulling it across the table.

"I never said that, Angie. Don't put words in my mouth; I never said I expected us to just get back together and everything would be the same. I'm not that kid anymore, obviously. And you're not the same girl. And while I still have feelings for you, the feelings I have now are completely different than what I felt for you then. As they should be. Aren't yours different?"

I nod, knowing that I am admitting to even having feelings, let alone that the thoughts that fuel my current fantasies are nothing like they were when we were teenagers. I remember thinking that I couldn't possibly love him more.

"All I'm saying is let's take this chance and see if we really are meant for each other. Let's just see if we're supposed to be together, like everyone keeps saying. Like I keep feeling. And like you must feel too."

I breathe a sigh of relief as the waitress shows up with our breakfast. Thankful for the break in conversation, I busy myself with adding syrup to my plate and slicing my pancakes into bite sized pieces. JC is doing the same, making quick work of his task, then spearing a stack of pancakes and shoving the entire mound into his mouth.

He closes his eyes and a sultry moan rolls from his chest. "These are so fucking good," he says, around a mouthful of food. He picks up another forkful and offers it to me. "Want some?"

I almost refuse, but decide not to. "Sure," I say, and reach for the fork.

"No, no, no. Let me..." He guides the fork to my lips. I open my mouth and close them around the stack of pancakes. My taste buds rejoice in the peanut butter and banana flavor as I chew.

I nod and smile, since he's watching me eat. "It's good. Sweet."

"Mmmhmm," he agrees, filling his mouth again. He seriously looks so happy to be eating.

"Thank you for this. Even though you woke me up out of a dead sleep and dragged me to breakfast..."

"I'm just trying to show you that I can be nice."

"Oh, that's what this is?"

"Sure. I told you I was nice."

"You have been very nice, lately. Especially to my dad. I really appreciate it."

I'd called my parents last night on my way out to meet everyone at Prime and JC was there for his weekly poker game with Dad. I hadn't expected him to keep showing up. I thought it would be something he'd do a few times and then start to miss games and eventually stop coming around.  Months later, though, he was still showing up. My dad was still loving it and very much looked forward to it. In addition, it gave my mom a break. She could leave the house, get her hair done, go shopping or out to dinner with her friends. It made a world of difference in her demeanor.

"I don't even think you realize how much it means to them and how much it's helped."

JC shrugs, scraping the last of the syrup off of his already empty plate. I hadn't taken two bites of my pancakes yet. "It's no big deal. Once a week I get to kick my feet up, have some fun and talk some shit. Did he tell you he won last night?"

I grin. "No. Did you let him win?"

"Nah. He won, fair and square. Took all my money."  I glance up at him, look him in the eye. He's smiling as he sips his coffee. Then, fleeting and ever so briefly, he winks.

I knew it. My dad sucks at poker. But JC let him win last night and now we'll never hear the end of it.

When our plates are empty and our cups drained, JC asks for the check. Before I can even offer to split it with him, he slides his card into the envelope and hands it back to waitress. She runs it and brings it back; he signs the slip, puts the card back into his wallet and angles his head in the direction of the car parked right outside the window.

"Let's roll," he says.

It's midday in Florida, a beautiful October day. The skies are cloudless and a light breeze occasionally cuts through the heat. I'm feeling free for the first time in a long time. I'm full of my favorite breakfast from my favorite restaurant, and riding in the car next to someone who is close to becoming my favorite person again.

JC heads back to my apartment and pulls into his usual spot. The luxury machine doesn't make a sound as it idles.

"So what are you doing today?"

He shrugs a shoulder, his gaze intently on me. "I just did the only thing I wanted to accomplish today."

"Oh." I can't help but smile. "And did you enjoy it?"

"Very much. I'd say it was perfect if I could get an answer to my question, though."

I feel like I have very limited time to say the words on the tip of my tongue, before I lose my nerve or change my mind. So I open my mouth and let the words fall out.  "You should come up."

"Is my answer up there?"

I give him a small, mysterious smile. "It will be." 

I pull the door handle and get out of the car. Behind me, I hear him turn off the engine and get out of the car. I hear his feet behind me on the steps. My heart is beating out of my chest-I don't know how he can't hear it.

I dig my key out of my purse and unlock the door, letting us into my dark, cool apartment. The door closes behind us-something that strikes me as symbolic. It's the first time I've ever invited JC up to my apartment.  He's barged in uninvited plenty of times but this is the first time I've ever asked him to come in. Things between us are changing, and quickly.

JC has made himself comfortable on the couch. I start to sit next to him, then stand up again. "Did you want anything? Water or anything?"

He laughs and pats the cushion next to him, where I almost sat. "No, I'm cool. Sit down. Talk to me."

I sit. Then scoot a little closer. He offers his hand and I happily slide my palm across his and wind my fingers around his. The feeling is so... familiar. Like time has never passed. Like it hasn't been eighteen years since I held hands with him. I hear-and feel-JC chuckle.

"Know what this reminds me of?"

"Hmm?"

"The rules our parents had for us hanging out together."

I laugh, remembering the ridiculously stringent guidelines our parents came up with so that they didn't have to watch us like hawks. "Like how we could only be in the kitchen or the living room. And if we were in the living room we could hold hands but we had to be sitting next to each other."

"Hands must be visible at all times," JC says, reciting from memory, likely. "No laying down. No touchy-feely. Remember how I had to negotiate being able to have an arm around you?"

"And how your dad would still freak out if he came into the house and I was there. Even if we were following the rules."

"That's because Heather was giving him grey hair, sneaking around with her boyfriend. Compared to what other kids were doing, we were good."

"Yeah, we were."

"Until I started driving...." JC grins, rolling his head toward mine.

I giggle. "And your dad found those condoms..."

"Oh man!" JC throws his head back and laughs. "I remember that. Yeah, why were they in the Jeep, Angie? You brought the whole bag?"

"I can't remember. Maybe it was-yeah we got a new cleaning lady and I was afraid she'd find them. So I put the bag in the Jeep, but then I forgot about it."

"My dad about had a heart attack. My mom had to calm him down."

"Mine too. Remember, I had to get on birth control after that?"

"Yup. I remember that. I thought they were going to kill me." He chuckles, then sighs at the memories. "They calmed down though. After a while."

"Well we had to work, to get them to calm down. I told my dad I wasn't breaking up with you because he couldn't deal with us having sex."

"Yeah. Me either."

Our conversation lapses into a comfortable silence. It feels less and less odd, as the minutes tick by, to be sitting in my apartment next to a man I have claimed to hate for so long, with my hand tucked into his, reminiscing about the good old days. And maybe allowing myself to hope for some good new days.

"So, you really think there's something there? Between us?"

"You know I do. The question is, do you?"

Right, I think. That's the million dollar question. Can I really forgive so much, in so little time? Can I forget  and set aside what feels like a lifetime of hurt and pain in what has felt like no time at all, but I know has been months... years in the making?

I think and I think and I ask myself these questions, but the answers don't come. You know how sometimes there's an old woman around to give random, general advice like 'well when you know, you just know'? Where is she, right now? I need an old lady to sit here between me and JC and tell me what the answer is. 

Because I don't know. I just know that I can't do... this... anymore. I can't hate him anymore. I can't be angry anymore. I can't hold on to something that's been completely meaningless for so long, just because the object of said anger has always been around. I haven't been angry because he slept with Stacey first. I've been angry because I felt special and then I found out that I wasn't... but wasn't I?

Our hands are still clasped, the fingers of one wrapped around the other. JC brings the tangle to his lips and softly kisses the back of my hand. My heart skips a beat and I'm pulled back in time. Way, way, way back to the last time we were together before we broke up. Back when we were happy and fearless and we had our whole lives ahead of us.  

Did I really throw all of that away over some chick that needed to beat me at something? What did she win, anyway? JC's reluctant virginity... but not his heart.  After everything she tried to give him, he came to me. He shared his heart and soul with me. He fell in love with me.

And he is still in love with me. And here. Right now. After all this time and everything we've gone through.

I'm overwhelmed, thinking about the enormity of all. I can't wrap my brain around it... but I don't even want to try right now.

I tilt my head up, so I can see him. The expression on his face is... peaceful. Not expectant or sarcastic or even smarmy, which I've seen on more than one occasion. He's just looking at me. Waiting for me to say something, I suppose.

There aren't words in the English language to express what I'm feeling. So I show him, by tipping forward just enough that our lips meet. He pulls back for a few seconds, the shock registering on his face, before leaning into me and kissing me back. Gentle presses, almost imperceptible swipes of his lips against mine. Feather soft.  My body is responding, like clockwork. Like it was just yesterday that he last kissed me.

He untangles his hands from mine and shifts so he's almost facing me. This frees his hands to cradle my chin and pull me forward, his fingers curled up in my hair, his mouth desperately, fiercely assaulting mine. I maintain balance by holding onto his forearms, delighting in feeling the muscles underneath the skin ripple as he moves himself back against the couch cushions and pulls me with him. I hike up the hem of my dress and straddle him, one knee on either side of his hips. His mouth, his lips, his tongue refuse to let me rest. He sucks and bites and strokes while his hands wander-around my waist, over my hips and ass, down my thighs and upwards again.

His hands, large and heavy, feel warm through the thin fabric of my dress. He caresses the swell of each breast and then gently cups one and then the other, feeling for my nipples. His thumbs find them rock hard, standing at attention. He rubs them gently, bringing a sensation so pleasurable, it makes my entire body jerk.  Subconsciously I scoot up, closer to him so we are pressed chest to chest, with only his hands between us. My hips buck and roll, rocking my clit up against the tip of his erection, making itself known through his jeans.

"Mmmmmmfuck," I moan, willing him to never stop.  I hear him groan in appreciation and dip his head to suck and bite the skin on my neck and across my shoulders. One hand leaves a breast to push the strap of my dress down. He lays light kisses over the entire area, as if he means to cover every square inch of me. I don't have any objection to that right now.

I grab the folds of my dress and begin to pull it up. "Let's just get rid of this," I suggest. He must agree, because he helps me pull it over my head. It lands in the chair next to the couch.

I'm suddenly very aware of sitting in my living room on JC's lap straddling him-practically sitting on his dick, in fact, nude except for a pair of underwear that seem barely there in the first place. My hands move to cover myself, but he grabs my wrists and holds my arms out.  

"You shouldn't cover yourself up. Don't be ashamed of your body. It's beautiful." He takes his time, drinking me in. His eyes move slowly, as if he's trying to memorize me.

He releases my wrists and his hands crawl my skin again. One finds its way around my back and cups my ass. The other drifts down my midsection, past my navel, under the band of my panties. My eyelids flutter and my body convulses as his fingers find their mark. He presses, then rubs my clit in a strong, steady rhythm. His head tips forward and he captures a nipple in his mouth, moaning along with my rising cries of pleasure.

I am writhing and thrusting against his fingers and despite living in a small apartment with thin walls, I practically scream with wild abandon. "Please... oh my God, I'm so close..."

"So close to what?" He asks, my nipple still in his mouth.

"So close to coming. I want to come."

"You do, hmm?"

"Yes. Please!"

"Well, you said please, so..."  A finger, warm and thick slips inside me. It isn't long before another joins it and they begin to thrust in and out, driving me even higher. "You're so fucking wet, Angie. For me. Do you have any idea what this is doing to me?"

"I...hunh.... fuck!" 

Words, complete sentences just aren't happening. I'm on the verge of exploding or imploding or whatever it's called when you fall to absolute pieces in bliss, and it's all I can do to not pass out or hyperventilate.  My nails sink into the skin of his shoulders and I rock my hips and ride his fingers until I feel my core pulsing, tightening and convulsing around him.

JC's lips claim mine again. I wrap my arms around his neck and hold on for dear life, wildly, passionately kissing him. I feel us moving, but my eyes are closed and I am lost in the throes of my climax and the feeling of kissing him again after so, so long. Fabric and cushion press against my back and I realize that he has moved me off of his lap and laid me down on the couch.

When I open my eyes, he is hovering over me and smiling. Grinning, actually. I smiled back, stroking his cheek, pressing down errant hairs in his beard.

"What?" I finally ask. He shakes his head, then bends to kiss me.  I feel fingers near my hips, around my thighs, pulling at the elastic of my panties. I lift my body so he could pull them off. When they clear my feet he breaks the kiss and sits up. With a snap of a button and whir of a zipper, his jeans are being pushed down his hips. With them go his underwear, a pair of black boxer briefs. His dick is stiff, jutting out, pointing nearly north. 

My mouth is dry, watching him.

He looks the same... but different. Familiar, but now thicker and longer, red at the tip and glistening with evidence of his arousal. He removes his t-shirt, letting it drop to the floor. I'm now free to run my hands over every inch of his body, a task that I intend to perform and complete, relishing every moment.

I reach for him. I need to feel his skin against mine, his chest press against my breasts, and his hardness against my belly. My thighs open to make room for him and for a few minutes, we just lie there, enjoying the feeling of being together.

"Any second thoughts, so far?"

"Not one," I say, shaking my head. "How about you?"

"Nope," he answers quickly. "Though... I regret not coming to this conclusion sooner. We could have had this much fun all along."

I laugh. "You think I would have been ready for that? Not even six months ago I cursed your name and made you promise to get out of my life after this wedding."

He tips his head side to side while staring at something off in the distance. "Yeah," he finally says, coming back to me.  "I agreed to that. So maybe neither of us was ready."

"And now we suddenly are? I mean.... what are we doing, JC?"

He dips his head to kiss me again. When he pulls back, he says, "We're letting things happen and hoping for the best. How's that?"

A slow smile crosses my lips. I nod and tighten my arms around him. "Sounds good to me."

We kiss again, this time less passionate and manic. More slow and sensuous and romantic. I'm fully aware of him rubbing and teasing, sliding up and down and around me but not entering. I lift my hips and put myself directly in his path. I catch his gaze and send him a pleading look.

He answers my plea with a full, forceful thrust. My eyes slam shut and an "Oh God, yes!" falls from my mouth as he fills me.  

"Fuck, Angie. I don't know how long I can last. I've wanted this..."

My mouth hangs open in sheer pleasure. I am full, more full than I can ever remember feeling with him. I hold onto his forearms and open my legs as wide as possible, welcoming every thrust with a loud, throaty moan. He matches my sounds with a grunt and answers the bucking of my hips with more thrusts. Our noises, our breathing, even the sound of skin slapping against skin is so sexy to me. I'm on the verge of another orgasm, but I'm willing myself to wait for him.

It doesn't take long for him to reach the recognizable point of no return. He stops breathing, develops a deep crimson blush and his steady rhythm turns into a wild flurry of pumping, pushing himself deeper into me as his climax overtakes him. He breaks a sweat, drops of which land on me but I don't mind. I savor those droplets of effort and pleasure.

"Come with me," he growls into my ear, while madly hunching his hips into mine. "Please, please come with me."

A hand snakes between us and with a few flicks of his fingertip on my clit, my back arches and I scream his name as orgasm thunders through my body from the top of my head to the curl of my toes. I feel him, hear him groaning deeply as his thrusts slow and then stop. His hips jerk through the aftershocks. He pants, trying to catch his breath.

I grab him by the cheeks and pull his face down to mine and kiss him, working my tongue around his mouth. I taste the saltiness of sweat. And peanut butter and coffee. 

My legs lock around him. I feel him begin to relax, his body sinking onto mine.

After a few minutes, I can form words again. "Wow," is the first one that falls out.

"You said it," says JC, his head nestled on my shoulder. 

"That was way more amazing than I remember."

"I think that's a good thing. Right?" I feel him smile against my skin. I run my fingers through his hair.

"JC?"

He lifts his head, catches my eyes and smiles. "Yes."

"After all this time, we can finally fuck in a bed, and we're on the couch?"

I start laughing and he joins in later. I feel his belly bouncing against mine, the harder he laughs. He moves to sit up and happens to glance down at the couch underneath us.

"Oh, shit... Angie..."

I sit up, trying to see what he's looking at. I must be still be drunk from orgasm, because I shrug off the enormous spot we've made on the couch.

"If I was worried about the couch, we would have never had sex here." I pat him on the arm, then rub reassuringly. "It's treated for stains. It's fine. I'll take care of it later."

"Do you want me to pay to-"

"No." I stop him with a finger to his lips. He puckers them and kisses my finger. "Actually what I want is for you to take me to bed."

He pauses, then grins, and before I know it, I am yanked up from the couch and pulled in the direction of my bedroom. In seconds, we are under the thin blanket and crisp sheets, wrapped around one another and kissing like... well like we haven't kissed in almost twenty years. JC's fingers crawl down my body again. I am ready and willing to take what he's about to dish out.

Two orgasms later, we are taking up every inch of my King size bed, both of us laying spread eagle in the waning sunlight streaming through the blinds in my bedroom. We hold hands, completely sated for the moment. There's something about having sex that makes a person want to have more sex. Finally having sex with JC again made me want to never stop having sex with him.

I hear him swallow, then inhale a deep breath and give a long, luxurious sigh. I roll my head toward him and try to guess what that sigh is about. I can't tell by the side of his face, but I hope it means he is happy. Because I am.

Suddenly he rolls to his side and props his head up on a hand. "So, can I assume that your answer is yes?"

"My answer?" I giggle. "My answer to what?"

His eyes roll almost to the back of his head. He reaches over and taps my thigh with a playful slap. "Evangeliiiiiinnneeee."

"Oh Jesus, don't start with that."

"Well. Answer me."

"What is the question, Counselor? State it plainly for the court so it can be recorded."

"Can I have another chance with you?  Do you think we can be happy together?" His eyes lower to the colorful floral design of my sheets as he quietly submits the last question.

"Do you still love me?"

It's my turn to inhale and then sigh. "I can't say I still love you. I wish I could, but I can't."

I watch him, expecting his shoulders to sag and disappointment to cloud his face. It doesn't, so he must have been expecting that answer.

"I can say that I think I could love you again. And that I'm willing to give this a try to see if we can make that happen. And if we find some happiness along the way, then..."

"Gravy, baby," he finishes, and we both laugh. He used to always say that.

"Are you disappointed?"

He leans over to drop a kiss on my lips. They're soft and full. I remember that about them. "You said about what I expected you to say, but I had to ask. If you thought you felt that in any way, you'd still be fighting me or you'd admit it. I figure right now, I gotta take what I can get until I can get more. But I'm not going anywhere. And I'm not going to stop trying. I will get what I want. What I want is you."

"Oh, JC..."

I sit up, then move to straddle him, my hands resting on his chest. His grin is a mile wide and I just know he's so proud of himself. As he should be-he's managed to accomplish an impossible win.

"The only way I ever won a case against you is when you gave up. You play to win. I wouldn't expect anything less."