Three weeks later...

At some point, the chairs in this hospital were comfortable. For the past four hours, though, they haven't been.  But we're not moving-not any of us-until we hear about Jackie and the baby. Until we hear that things are okay, that mother and baby are fine and that daddy is tired but proud, we sit.

JC and I are seated in what minimally passes for padded chairs, in front of a narrow window, ten floors up in the waiting room at one end of the Maternity Ward of Orange County hospital. The overhead light flickers and buzzes, throwing a grey pallor across the room and a dull reflection in the over-waxed floors. It's quiet, except for the swish swish of the crisp nurses' scrubs and the squeak squeak of crocs and sneakers on the linoleum.

At 2am we got the call- Jackie's in labor! By the time we arrived at the hospital, her contractions had slowed and it looked like the baby had changed his mind. Then there was a distress signal and doctors and nurses came running and Matt disappeared and we've been sitting here now for four hours.

I shift in my chair, glancing around the room with a grimace. Bridget and Morgan share the small loveseat. Nick paces, a thumbnail in his mouth while watching the corridor for any action. He mumbles, more than once, out loud, "Maybe I should go back there."

But he doesn't because he's a pediatrician, not a labor and delivery doctor. And this isn't his clinic, it's the county hospital. Still, he paces and mumbles.

JC sleeps sitting straight up, in a t-shirt and a pair of track pants he threw on just before we left the house. I told him he didn't need to come, it would probably be a long wait, but he insisted. Now he's snoozing, arms folded across his chest and hands shoved into his armpits, legs crossed at the ankles, head tipped back against the cool window pane. He's not snoring, but his breaths are deep and loud. At least someone is resting.

"I can't stand this anymore. " I get up and stretch, kneading my sore ass muscles. "I'm going to find some coffee.  Anyone want some, or want to come along?"

Morgan pushes up from the loveseat and agrees to go with me. She makes Nick sit in her place and tells him to call her with any news.  We get in the elevator and travel to the first floor, where the hospital cafeteria is hopefully open and serving something hot and caffeinated.

"This is pretty exciting," says Morgan, through a half assed yawn. "You know, once you get past the waiting part. I guess we shouldn't have all rushed down here."

"I'm sure we all expected it to go as fast as Bridget's births. I think she had her babies in about ten minutes."

She laughs. "Felt like it."

There's a reason we call Keith and Bridget The Stepford's. They just make everything-marriage, family, being your spouse's best friend-look so easy. Effortless. I'm learning lessons everyday that tell me it isn't.

Since we came home from the island, though, JC and I have been on a really good streak. We talk, we laugh, we do just about everything together.  I haven't spent a single night at my apartment since we got back from the trip and, currently, there are more of my things at his place than mine.

I still have no idea how he spends his days and he's particularly quiet about his employment plans. He doesn't seem stressed by the fact that he has no job and potentially no home. That's just JC. He coasts through life and things are just handed to him. It's something I used to hate about him.

What we haven't done is fight. It's been the longest period of time that we've gotten along, save that summer I spent a month in Spain and didn't see him or talk to him. Though, I was mildly surprised to not see him come around a corner and pretend that it was a coincidence, and we should have dinner since we're both there.  It's not that he hasn't been his normal self. His comments, his picking on me, even his sometimes thoughtless, selfish behavior doesn't get under my skin anymore. It's not an Act of War anymore. It's just JC being JC and all it really takes is a glance his way with an ‘I'm serious' look and he reverts to my sweet JC.

Sometimes I think he just wants to see how much he can get away with. And honestly... he gets away with a lot, now.

No one was more surprised than my parents to see JC and I back together. We showed up at the house the day after we had come back from the trip; hand in hand, silly grins on our faces and obviously stupid in love. My mom stared; my dad didn't know what to say, so he laughed. And twitched. 

The Chasez's came down the street, because Tyler had come home and shared the good news. They saw JC's car sitting outside and couldn't wait for us to come down there and tell them. They had to come see the amazing turn of events themselves. Who would have thought that mortal enemies for so many years would end up back together?

We ended up having dinner, laughing together around the dining room table at my parent's house. JC and I had to tell the entire story of our reunion and the rekindling of our romance with input from Tyler, who kept insisting he knew it all along.

The cafeteria is open, serving piping hot coffee in insulated pumpers. Morgan and I grab two cups of coffee a piece and an extra cup of cream, sugar and some stick stirrers and head back upstairs. Morgan's mobile phone is buzzing in her pocket as we step out of the elevator. I look at her, she looks at me and we double our steps to Labor and Delivery.

Matt is out of Jackie's room, surrounded by Nick, Bridget and JC,  who seems alert despite the fact that he was almost snoring not even ten minutes ago. Red eyed, dressed in wrinkled jeans and threadbare t-shirt, Matt is chattering away, stroking his overnight beard as he talks.

"So she'll be here for a day or so, since they had to do a C-Section but the baby looks good. Real good. Big. Long. Pink. Looks like Jackie-dark hair, dark eyes. Beautiful. Screaming like a banshee. I love him already."

"How's Jackie?" I ask, handing Matt a cup of coffee. He needs it more than I do. I hand the other one to JC. "Is she doing okay?"

Matt takes the cup and sips before answering. "Aw, you know Jackie. She's a trooper. She wanted to go natural but Michael wasn't having it. He managed to wrap his cord around his neck and he was really too big, anyway. Once we decided it was safer for her to have a C-Section, she was okay. I'm sure she'll want to see you all soon, but I want to give her a chance to rest and get her wits about her."

"Of course. I'm so happy everything turned out fine. And congratulations, Dad." I tap Matt on the arm and give him an earnest grin. He opens his arms and hugs me tight. When he pulls back, he's all teary eyed again. "You know Jackie doesn't have much in the way of family. You guys are her family. Thanks for being here. I'll let her know you all came."

"Take your time, man," JC says, giving him a bro slap on the back. "Enjoy your new family." Just then, the sound of a baby screeching at the top of its lungs comes from a room down the hall. A nurse steps out of an open door and smiles, waving at Matt. "Sounds like your kid is yelling for you anyway."

"Yeah, I'd better head. I'm already at his beck and call. Thanks for the coffee. Hang tight for a minute, let me talk to Jackie and see what she wants to do." Matt gulps back some coffee and speed walks his way down the hall toward the screaming.

JC hands the coffee cup back to me, doctored with cream and sugar. "I can tell you were really looking forward to some coffee."  We resume our seats in front of the window. The sun is up; the day is looking bright and warm already. JC rubs my back as I sip coffee and listen to everyone talk and wait to hear back from Matt.

The door down the hall opens and Matt comes rushing toward us. "Two at a time, come on back and meet Michael Andrew Cooper." He's absolutely beaming.

Everyone stares at me and JC- we got there first and have been waiting the longest-- until we get up and follow Matt down the hall. Jackie is sitting up in bed, her hospital gown draped across her chest,  arms bare, hair up in the messiest pony tail I've ever seen on her. But she's smiling. Giddy. And probably still on an epidural, so really high.

I bend over her, wrapping my arms around her shoulders and squeeze her tight. I'm so happy I could bust, but I've got to give her a little bit of shit. "Sure, Jacks. Have your baby, but not during the four hours I sat on my ass without moving. Have him in the ten minutes I leave the floor to go get some coffee."

Jackie chortles, her laugh so evil. "I told you bitches I'd get you back."

 She points to the glass bassinette next to the bed that holds a finally sleeping baby. "He's exhausted from all this activity. I fed him and he was out like a light. He'll have to entertain Aunt Angie and Uncle JC at a later date."

JC and I creep across the room to check out Jackie and Matt's work. He's long, red and wrinkled, swaddled like a burrito with a cute little knit cap over his big, round head. His little face is scrunched up, like he's fussing in his sleep. He actually looks kind of pissed off. I guess I would be, too, if I was unceremoniously removed from a place I'd been squatting for nearly ten months.

"No wonder you ate so much," JC muses. "He was eating all of your food." He chuckles, then turns to ask Jackie, "And he's early?"

"A couple of weeks, but he's perfect. Ten fingers, ten toes. Obviously he's got a set of lungs on him." She blushes, but only briefly.  "I'm definitely going to need a drunken girl's night once he's off of breast milk."

We all laugh, staring at the creature in the bassinette. I grin over at Jackie, and whisper, "Good job, mama." She smiles, whispering back, "Thank you."

Hours later, we've napped and lounged around the house and napped some more. Being awakened at 2am and waiting with bated breath for so long sapped all of my energy. It's all I can do to put something together for us to eat, though JC offered to order something.

"Nope. We ate restaurant food for a whole week on that island. I can't look at a professionally prepared plate of food or a vat of reconstituted eggs right now." 

"That was three weeks ago," he grumbles, not because he really wanted takeout, but because I've put him to work. JC doesn't cook if it doesn't involve throwing something in a toaster or a microwave, so it's fun to see him in an apron, wielding a knife and dicing onions and peppers for my homemade spaghetti sauce.

"Just chop," I tell him, browning ground beef in a skillet, adding the spices I've had to bring from my apartment to JC's house because, once again, why would you need onion powder if you don't cook?

"I'm chopping, slave mistress. I'm crying, but I'm chopping."

He lifts his arm to wipe his face on his sleeve and resumes banging his knife through a pile of green and white. "That was pretty cool, seeing baby Michael today. I've never seen one fresh out of the oven before."

I twist around to look at him, shake my head and go back to my sizzling beef. "Fresh out of the oven? You mean a newborn?"

"Yeah, a newborn. Babies are kind of amazing, huh?"

"They are. It's so cool how two people can make a whole new person."

"You think about it at all? Having kids?"

I motion to him that I'm ready for his vegetables. He brings the chopping board over to me and dumps the pile into the skillet on top of the beef. I stir, talking over the loud sounds of frying.

"I used to think about it a lot. Like in my early thirties when all the websites and medical experts say it's best to start having babies. I had that biological clock era about three years ago. Now?" I shrug. "Not so much."

"You used to want kids, but you don't now?"

"It's not that I don't want them." I open the cabinet, pull out the container of garlic salt and sprinkle some over the mixture, then return it to the cabinet. I do the same with a little more salt and pepper. "It's that I haven't really thought about it. Not lately, that is. I've been so consumed with my cases, my work. And I wasn't with a guy that made me want to have his babies."

In a few steps, he is behind me, his hands on my waist, pressing himself into me. I feel his breath on my shoulder as his lips flutter over my skin. I squirm and squeal in his arms, still trying to stir our meal on the stove.

"Are you now? With a guy that makes you want to have his babies?"

"Maybe. Kind of an unfair question with your dick in my ass." I angle my head so I can see him, Mr. Mysterious Acting Person. "Have you ever thought about it?"

He scrunches up his face and rears back. "Hell no."

I laugh. "Damn, sorry I asked. I guess that's not a thing guys think about?"

"Some do. Just... not me."

"Are you just acting macho or do you not really want children?"

He releases me, stepping back to open refrigerator, pulls out a bottle of water, twists off the cap and takes a long swig. He shifts, leaning against the cabinet with his arms crossed. "Do guys have a biological clock?"

"I don't think so." I bend to adjust the flame under the meat and vegetables. A delicious scent is coming from the skillet. I'm so happy to have someone to cook for-someone who loves to eat and doesn't care what it is he is eating, so long as he eats. "A guy can have a kid until he's dead, practically. Ed McMahon had a kid at like, eighty years old. Those swimmers are potent."

"Cool. So I can still have kids after you die."

I glare at him. Then hand him two large cans of crushed tomatoes. "Open these, asshole."

He grabs the cans and the can opener and goes to work. I pour the ground beef, onion and green pepper mixture into a pot and turn on the burner under it. Once the cans are open, I empty them into the pot and stir everything together, then put a lid on the pot and turn the flame to low.

I set the timer for two hours and start rinsing utensils, the skillet and other things we've used to prepare food. "Why don't you grab a loaf of garlic bread from the freezer? It can defrost while the sauce simmers. It needs to cook for a couple of hours."

"A couple of hours?" He whines, but moves toward the freezer, opens the door and slides out a loaf of frozen, pre-buttered garlic bread. "Where you want it?"

"Up your ass." I close the dishwasher and walk out of the kitchen. "Set it on the counter somewhere. Doesn't matter."

"You can't have my kids with a mouth like that." 

"Really? Last night you liked my mouth."

I resume my spot on the couch, making a note to check the sauce in about a half hour. JC settles into the couch next to me. We've fallen into a comfortable routine, lately. And I really like it. Before it started getting chilly at night, we would sit out on the patio and watch the waves in the lake, have a glass of wine, talk.  Lately, we hang out in the living room, him in his usual spot, and me in mine. Sometimes I read the paper or a magazine. He watches the most God-awful TV shows.

"So you didn't answer me," I say to him during a commercial break of some reality show about pawning things. It's the most boring thing ever, but he loves guessing how much money each seller is getting screwed out of. "You do or don't want kids?"

"If you want kids, we'll have kids. If you don't, we won't."

"JC..." I sit up, more than a little exasperated. "There's a whole lot more to having kids than fucking, and then saying ‘go ask your mother' all the time. I need to know that you want to be a dad. That you want to raise them with me."

He presses a button on the remote and mutes the TV, then sits up. "Here's the thing, Angie. I want to be with you. If you want to be a mom and have my kids, I'm there. One hundred percent. I'm not saying the decision is all you, but... " He tosses up his hands in a tic of frustration. "I really do have the easy part. I'm not the one that has to carry the thing."

"It's not a thing. It's a baby. A child. A piece of me and you.  Can you be serious for a whole minute, please?"

He looks at me, his gaze steady, his eyes that bright, piercing, so-blue-they're-almost-clear. "I don't know, Angie. I never let my thoughts get that far, because I never thought I'd be with you again and if I had kids with anyone, it'd be with you. We're so new... again... kids aren't really on my mind right now. But I know women have a short time span when they can have kids, so if you want me to speed up my thoughts on that, you got it. If you want to start procreating tomorrow, I'm on it."

"Did you want to have kids with me before? Like when we were together before?"

"Baby, I was like... seventeen." He laughs. "I didn't think we were having kids for like ten or fifteen years, by the looks of that bag of condoms you dragged around."

The memory of that enormous bag of condoms brings a wave of nostalgia. I was diligent about protection; that was for sure. "And I was on birth control on top of that. My parents were so scared we'd end up with a baby."

"I think we broke up before that could happen. Definitely would have happened if we moved in together after high school."

"You think?"                         

He huffs a laugh. "Unlimited access to you? Sex in a bed?" He leans over and nuzzles my neck and runs a hand down my torso. The tips of his fingers just brush the side of my breasts. My nipples react, standing upright and poking through my bra and t-shirt. My back arcs and I let out a low groan. "Stuff like that happening all the time? Mercy."

I reach for him and let him crowd me, snuggle up against me, arms around me. I run my fingers through his curls and waves and kiss his temple. He's warm and he still smells like the shower gel he uses.

"Do you feel like we're sort of... reliving our high school years?"

He tips his head up so he can see me. "What do you mean?"

"I mean... I don't know. I feel like we've kind of picked up where we left off. Not that that's a bad thing-- we're definitely doing things we could never do together back then and I'm really liking that. I just sort of... feel like I might be ready for some grown up relationship stuff with you. Like taking some bigger steps together."

"Like having kids?"

I laugh, tapping him lightly. "No! Not yet for that. But... I mean, I've been waiting for you to bring this up, but are you going to have to move out of this place? I hate going back to my apartment. By this point it's just a huge storage closet. Most of my stuff is here. And if I have to move it somewhere, okay... but I don't want that somewhere to be back to my apartment."

Without a word, JC untangles himself from me and gets up from the couch. I watch him walk down the hall and turn the corner, to the home office that we've been sharing since I've been staying there. If I have to go to my apartment for something, JC takes me and brings me back. He wants me with him, I get that. But I'm not as easy going as he is about having a place to live where we can move around without bumping into each other. That place is not my apartment.

JC comes back around the corner, a box and an envelope in hand, and sits down beside me again. "I was saving this," he says, "but you're so damn impatient."

"Oh, it's my fault you have to give me a present." I take the box from him and angle myself toward him. The box is plain and white, nondescript. No logo, no wrapping or ribbon, the simplest of presentations. I pull off the lid and remove a couple of layers of cotton before my fingers brush against something hard.

I dig and pull out a key ring. It holds two keys, one a sterling silver, the other a brushed gold. I dangle them, listening to them jingle. JC is bearing the straightest faced expression I've ever seen.

"So, are these the keys to your heart? Does your heart have a deadbolt?"

"One of those is the key to the castle. The other is a surprise I'm not ready to give you yet. You get to wait some more."

"The key to the castle?" I look at them, and hold up the silver one. "This looks like the key to this house."

"That's because it is."

"Okay. So you gave me a key to a house you might have to give up soon. This means what, on Planet JC?"

He sighs, rolls his eyes and pulls me close. "You're so smart, but so dense sometimes. I can keep the house. That's what the key means. This is the castle." He pulls back and stares at me, his forehead a landscape of wrinkles, his brows knit together. "Have you ever wondered how come you never beat me in court?"

"Yes. I decided it was because you cheat."I glance at the key again, a grin slowly crawling across my face. "So you get to keep the house? Forever?"

"I swear I just said that."

I'm trying not to throw my arms around him. To choke him. "My God you're a smart ass this evening! Answer my fucking question!"

"Yes. Yes I can keep the house. We can keep the house."

He hands me the envelope, and I put the key down long enough to open the flap and slide out a piece of paper. It's the deed to the house and a receipt from the County Clerk that the new deed, registered to Joshua Scott Chasez has been filed. He officially owns the townhome on Lake Conway.

I sink back against the couch and heave an audible sigh of relief. I was worried enough for the both of us.

"He laughed when I asked if he was moving back to this place.  His new wife took the liberty of finding them a big ass house in one of those swanky neighborhoods. I told him about you, how we're back together and real serious and you'd be mad if you had to pack your shoes up again."

"Again, this is my fault?" But I'm grinning, so huge.

"Sure," he answers with a shrug of a shoulder. "He's got another place, here. His first condo. He's been renting it, but the tenant recently left. What I've been doing lately is going over to supervise the renovation of that place.  That one goes to Ty at Christmas. But he doesn't know, so..." He presses a finger to his lips in a shhhh gesture.

He takes the deed back, gazes at it for a moment, then folds it up again. He slides it back into the envelope and tosses it onto the coffee table. "So, I thought we could go over to your place next weekend and start packing up your stuff. I want you here, all of you, before Christmas."

"Here. To live here. With you. Here."

"I think you've captured the gist of it, yes."

I do, then, throw my arms around him. He laughs at my reaction, and then he realizes that I'm on the verge of tears and holds me tightly. His hands are warm on my back as he strokes me from my neck to my waist, patiently waiting for my emotional moment to pass.

I sit back, swiping a few tears, clutching the keys in my hand. "You know what I want to say right now."

He nods. "I do. But don't, yet."

"Really? You just told me to pack up my shit and move in with you and gave me a key and everything and I can't say it?"

He snickers, one lip curled in a sneer. "Not yet. There's something much, much bigger coming."

I lift up the key ring and dangle it in his face.  "Does the much bigger thing have something to do with whatever this other key goes to?"

He's sneaky and shakes his head, but I can see the yes in his face. I lean over and kiss him and mentally say it anyway: I love you, JC.

It takes a few weekends and a couple of late nights, but my apartment is empty and clean, keys turned in and JC's place looks like a cardboard tornado hit it. I wasn't married to any of my furniture, so I sold it, favoring JC's more upscale (and newer) furnishings. His Uncle Pete gave him the house and everything in it. Apparently the new Mrs. Peter Chasez, Esquire likes spending money. They got all new furniture and we got hand me downs.

I don't mind a bit.

I'm so used to walking into the house, disarming the alarm and stepping around a landmine of boxes, that the day I come home and the hallways are clear, I wonder if I am in the right house.

"Baby?"

I drop my briefcase and lunch carrier on the couch. The sliding doors are wide open, a breeze billowing the curtains through the opening and out onto the patio. JC is sitting at one of the glass topped tables, under an umbrella that flaps loudly.

"So we're ready, then?" I hear him say into the phone. I wave a few fingers at him and head back inside.

A few minutes later, he steps into the house and slides the doors closed. "Hi, honey."

 I turn from the refrigerator where I'm trying to decide if I'm having something gentle like iced tea or something harder. "Hey. Do we have any vodka?"

"Uh, oh." JC comes into the kitchen, pulls the handle from my hand and lets the door shut. His arms slip around my waist and he pulls me up against him. I tip my head up for a kiss, resting my arms on his broad shoulders.

There is nothing better than coming home to him every day. I've turned into the kind of woman I used to roll my eyes at, like Bridget. But, in a recent Skype conversation I had with her, Jackie, and Morgan, I've realized that I get it. When you find that one, that person that fills that person shaped void in your life, that person that makes you overwhelmingly happy, your life becomes about being happy with that person. At all costs.

We spend time, standing in the middle of the kitchen, in each other's arms and slowly, lazily kissing. JC tips his head to nibble on my earlobe, my neck, brush his lips across my cheek.

"Bad day?" He asks plainly. That's a question he asks every day and every day the question is answered with a despondent sigh.

Things are getting worse at the Law Center. The partners have become such ambulance chasers, taking any case as long as it pays. I haven't been doing well because I'm given cases I don't believe in, clients I don't want to represent. People that I know are guilty as hell, but it's my job to defend them. I remember JC's words, back when he worked for Perry: "Everyone deserves his day in court. Even a murderer needs a defense."

And I suppose that's the point, why I never went to work for Perry. I feel like I work for a Perry clone, now. Even Tyler is thinking about moving on, and he was the one that was grateful to have a job. "I'm getting ready to propose to my girlfriend, you know," he told me today at lunch, which would have been a liquid lunch if we didn't have court dates this afternoon. "I'm working on building a life with her. I don't want to have to worry about being stuck at a firm because I have a family to support."

"I get it," I told him, taking a bite of my half sandwich, and then sipping a spoonful of vegetable soup. "Any idea where you want to go?"

He wagged his head, mouth in a sad downturn before shoving a few French fries in. "No idea. But I'm going to start looking. Now that my Uncle is moving back to town, maybe he can strike up some connections."

"Ah. The old JC move, then?"

He shrugs, eating more fries. His mouth full, he says, "I guess I'm desperate enough." And when Tyler is desperate, that's a really bad situation.

"My day," I tell JC, "Just got way better."

He hums a pleasant tune in my ear before he pulls back and leads me by the hand to the living room. We settle into the couch and I kick off my heels, loosen my suit jacket and let JC help me pull it off.

"What happened?"

"I just flat out refused a case, today. I mean, I could take it; it's a settlement case. But it's drunk driving, which I hate. I can't be sympathetic to some guy that almost killed some people because he was out having a good time and got in his car." I huff, frustrated. "I told Doug I wasn't taking the case. He tried to make me take it. I said no, my caseload is overflowing anyway. My Busy Level is like... off the charts.

"Then he tried to make Tyler take it and he refused, so he made some other lower level associate take it, and Tyler and I both got called into Flanning's office and got reamed." I'm pretty sure I still only have half an ass left.

"Sounds rough. That's how it was getting at Perry when I left."

"See, that's what I'm talking about! I feel like Flanning and Rourke are modeling the Center after Perry now. Trying to beat them at their own game. I'm not that kind of attorney. I don't practice that kind of law."

JC grabs my hand and strokes the back of it with his thumb. Wide swoops that are magically calming and soothing. "So do you still have a job?"

I snort. "Of course. They don't want to handle my cases."

JC gets up and walks back to the kitchen. I hear a door opening, something pouring and he's back moments later with two fingers of vodka in a glass. I'm almost ashamed at how fast I toss it back and hand the glass back to him.

"Another?"

I roll my eyes up to him. "Will you think badly of me if I say yes?"

He chuckles and heads back to the kitchen. "Whatever makes it easy to get your panties off, I'm all for it." He's back with my drink, but not as much this time. "Take it easy, though. You haven't eaten and you've got to drive to Prime in an hour."

"Okay." I decide to sip instead of gulp. I do feel a little lightheaded, already. "Tyler is thinking about moving on. And frankly, so am I."

"Really?"

"Yup. Either drop everything as it stands or take the cases I want to work and go somewhere else."

"Hmmm." He says nothing more for a long, quiet moment. I sip my drink and fume about my day. "Do you have any feelers out? Do you want me to ask around?"

"I don't know. I don't want you fighting my battles."

"I wouldn't be. I mean, that's kind of how this business works. You know someone that knows someone."

I can't help but laugh. That's how the business works for him.

"Think about it. I'll ask around if you want. For Ty, too." With that, he stands, and grabs my hand. "Come on. I want you to see what I did today."

I let myself be pulled up and then down the hall to the office we share. My eyes bug out at how changed the room is. Instead of one desk we sort of fight over, there are two L-shaped desks in the room. Filing cabinets stand alongside each desk and we have two bookcases apiece. Mine are full of the books that had been sitting in the boxes and stacked along the hallway.

"Wow, baby. You've been busy today."

"I hope you don't mind. I thought you'd feel more at home with all your stuff where you can get to it. Now you can work at home without having to sit on the floor in the living room in front of the TV." He points to a flat screen TV mounted on one wall, where we can both see it. "I just have to get cable connected to it. Be set up in a couple of days. And check this out."

He steps to one of the desks and picks up the receiver on one of the three line phones. "We each have a line and then there's the house line." He punches in a number and I hear a phone ringing somewhere in the house. A line is blinking on the phone and its warbling at a low volume. The voicemail picks up and JC puts the phone on speaker.

‘Hi, you've reached JC and Angie. We're not available right now, but leave a message and we'll get back to you. For JC's office line, press one. For Angie, press two. For both of us, wait for the beep. Thanks for calling.'

"You've been really busy today!" I pull out the chair he's picked out for me, a soft cushiony leather office chair. It rolls easily and smoothly. I test it out, pushing myself along the wood floor.  Satisfied, I get up and roll the chair back under the desk.

I wrap my arms around JC's waist and rise up onto my toes to land a kiss on his cheek. "I love everything about this room. Especially that you unpacked all my books and stuff. Thank you, sweetie."

"You're welcome. I just wanted your shit outta my way."

"I knew you'd say that. You're just trying to mask your sweet nature. And trying to stop me from saying I lo-"

JC's face darkens. "Evangeline."

Laughing, I pull away from him. "I call you asshole. You call me Evangeline. I think it means the same thing."

"Not time yet." He winds a hand around my waist and pulls me out of the room, into the hallway, back to the living room. "So... you have to do this thing with Morgan tonight?"

"This thing? This thing where I haven't had my weekly dinner with her in months? We have to catch up."

"You mean talk about me."

"That, too."  I head toward the stairs. "I've got to go change, speaking of meeting Morgan tonight."

"Let me know if you need help," he calls from the living room.

An hour and a half later, I'm seated in our usual spot at Prime. I feel like I haven't been in this place in forever-probably because I haven't. Last time I was here, my life was so different. Coming here feels like going to a place I haven't been in many years, instead of a couple of months. It looks the same, though. It feels the same, like the same kind of people are here tonight that were here months ago-the young, hip clientele that Prime tries to attract. I identified with them  back them.

And now I am so different.

Morgan rushes in, her blond hair flying behind her. I'm glad I changed, because she's dressed in skinny jeans and a long sleeved blouse and boots. We almost match.

"Hey! Sorry, I left the studio late. I got a last minute call... it was crazy for about an hour before I left." She huffs and puffs, tosses her oversized handbag onto the seat next to her and grabs the drink menu. "You haven't ordered yet?" She frowns at the empty spot in front of me.

"I ordered some appetizers. I had a drink and a half at home. The only way JC would let me drive myself is if I drank a bottle of water and promised I'd order some food when I got here."

"Awww," she coos, flipping the menu over. "I don't think I've had a chance to say it, but I'm so glad you guys are back together. You belong together, don't you think?"

I grin. "He's the jelly to my peanut butter."

"And see? Now you say cute things like that, instead of rolling your eyes when I bring him up." She waves down a waitress and places an order for a glass of white wine. When the waitress leaves, she folds her arms on the table and leans forward. "So... how are things?"

"Things.... are great, actually. Really, really good."

"Yeah? You're all moved in, right?"

I nod. "A couple of weeks ago. Today, he surprised me by setting up our office and unpacking my books. And he bought phones and recorded a voicemail message with both our names on it. It's..." I roll my eyes at myself. "It's really cute, actually."

"I'm happy to hear that. So the drink and a half wasn't about him?"

I shake my head, sensing my face clouding over. "Work. It just sucks." I fill her in on the latest employment related drama, to which she listens with rapt attention. "I'm probably going to look for something after the New Year. I just hate being so happy everywhere but work."

"It sounds miserable. You're smart and talented and accomplished. Don't be afraid-just step out there. You know we're all behind you. And so is JC-"

"But in a totally different way," I finish, laughing.

Morgan's white wine arrives and she sips from the glass slowly before setting it down in front of her. "What's he doing, now anyway? Still not working?"

"Still doing stuff for his uncle, I guess? I try not to question him about it. He's really... I don't know. Mysterious lately. Like, weird questions about stuff, he hasn't gone back to work but doesn't seem too worried about it. He gave me a key to the house, but there was another key on the key ring. He won't tell me what the other key is for."

"Hunh. Weird. I wonder what's up?"

"Me too. And he won't let me tell him I love him."

Morgan's eyes grow to the size of saucers, until the blue in them is a mere dot surrounded by white. "He won't let you what?"

"Well I haven't... since we've been back together. He keeps asking me to wait, that he's still working for it, that there's a big thing coming. I don't know, but it's driving me crazy. Six months ago you couldn't pay me to tell him I loved him. Now I have to bite my tongue to keep from automatically saying it."

"That's... really weird, Angie. I hope you find out, soon."

The waitress brings out several plates and sets them between Morgan and me: potato skins, chicken wings and mozzarella sticks. I glance up at her and laugh. "I was hungry, okay?"

 Morgan and I chat and laugh and catch up with each other like we haven't seen each other in ages, instead of weeks. She's now married; I'm in a solid, committed relationship. One of our best friends just had a baby and another is on the verge of proposing. Somehow, when we weren't paying attention, we evolved from a ragtag group of kids that hung out together to grown up couples doing grown up things.

It's pretty awesome, and it's awesome to not feel so alone anymore. And to know that you don't have to be alone, ever again, if you don't want to be.

I wave goodbye to Morgan, watching her hop into her new MINI Cooper-a wedding gift from Nick- before I slide into my car and head home. The new home. I'm still getting used to driving to the Lake Conway house and not automatically heading to my apartment.

The lights are on when I pull up to the house, so JC is still awake. Still, I open the door gently and walk softly through the house, snapping off lights as I go. I hear the TV as I make my way up the stairs and down the hall to the bedroom.

Lying spread eagle in the middle of the bed is JC. The TV is on, the overhead light is on and the ceiling fan is on. He is out cold. I almost hate to wake him, but we both have to share the bed.

I kick off my heels and crawl across the bed, curling up next to him. As soon as I touch him, he jerks awake, inhaling deeply, combing a hand through his hair, tipping his head up and looking around.

"Oh. You're back."

"Did you think I was leaving you?"

"'Course not. What time is it?"

"About 10:30."

He grunts, then rolls to his side and pulls me to him, wrapping his arm and legs around me. "Missed you, honey."

"I missed you, too," I respond, my voice muffled by this shoulder.

"Have fun? How's Morgan? Did you see the car Nick got her?"

"I did. Morgan is great and the car is cute. It really suits her." I start to describe our evening but JC soon makes it clear that he has no interest in what two chicks talked about over drinks. He pops open a few buttons on my shirt and dips his head toward my chest. I try to keep talking, but I'm distracted by how good it feels when he nips at my skin, when he pulls my breast out of my bra and flicks his tongue across my nipple.

A wave washes over me, so strong I feel like I'm drowning in desire for him. I'm shaking and short of breath and, at the moment, I want nothing more than him. Right now.

"You drunk?" He mumbles the question against my lips as we kiss.

"No. Do you want me to be?"

"Nope. I want you to remember this night of epic sex."

I laugh, even as my body seems to shout its approval of this proposal. Everything in me reaches out for him. I struggle to pull off my clothes with twitching fingers while JC attempts to make sure he's touched every inch of my skin with his lips. When I'm down to my bra - which is halfway off anyway-I reach for JC's t-shirt and sweat pants and pull them off. I'm not surprised to find that he's not wearing briefs or boxers. He lik