NOTES: This began life as the second chapter to "Effectively Drowning" and became its own project. But don't despair, fans of "Effectively Drowning"! There will be a second chapter for that story as well, since there was such a demand. This story fills in some of the gaps, in Margaret's point of view, of that final day in Alaska. It starts just prior to the wedding and follows the events of the day. There will be a second chapter ( already half-written! Yay! ) that does the same thing, only from Andrew's point of view. The chapter title was taken from song lyrics. The song is called "Downtown Song" and it's by a band called Anberlin ( although it may be a remake, I'm not sure ). I hope you enjoy, and I always welcome feedback!


Uptown Girl


Margaret was going to be married in an hour. That combination of words seemed strange to her: I'm going to be married in an hour. It was quite an adjustment, since she'd simply assumed that she wouldn't get married; or, if she did, that her nuptials were still several years in the future. Now the event was only moments away, and she felt like she was living in someone else's body. She had let Annie fuss over her all morning, and had only just sent her to take her place in the ceremony. It had taken some convincing, but at last, Margaret was alone.

Her phone rang. It was Frank.

Her mind was on the feel of Andrew's powerful arms and shoulders under her hands. Had that only been the previous morning? She looked at herself in Annie's wedding dress and remembered why it was important to do this. It was important, her career was important. But was it this important? It had seemed like it once, but that was before chanting in the woods and breakfast in bed and naked collisions and wedding dress fittings and being saved from drowning.

It's still important, her mind insisted.

Frank left a message. Again.

There was a whole barn full of people in there, waiting for her to swear lifelong love and devotion to the town's beloved golden boy. And she had thought this whole thing would be straightforward, too. She'd just forgotten to take into account the fact that every moment it became more and more real. Her realization had crystallized when Andrew had, with quiet fury, told his father and Mr. Gilbertson that they were really engaged, really in love, and by the way everyone was invited to the wedding tomorrow.

I fell for him.

Margaret's eyes were wide in the mirror. I actually fell in love with him.

Under any relatively normal circumstances, realizing she was in love with the man she was going to marry might have been a good thing. And it wasn't as if she had a choice. If she didn't speak her marriage vows this morning, the life she'd built for herself since she was sixteen would crumble around her. Loving Andrew should have been an unexpected bonus. But of course, he was still laboring under the impression that this was a lie. That soon enough, they would be divorced.

Divorced. But she didn't want a divorce.

There was no time to dwell on it now. Margaret straightened herself up, made sure her eyes were dry and loosened her death grip on her bouquet. She took one last glance at the room that she had spent her last days as a single, independent woman in, and she headed toward the barn and her marriage. She was ready for this. She had to be. No one else was insane enough to get her out of this jam. And though she hated the idea of lying to Andrew's family, it was for a very good cause. Plus karma was going to get back at her in the end. Like it or not, Andrew was going to leave her. They'd get their divorce, he'd become editor, and she would be stuck looking for an assistant all over again. And ugly one this time.

She had almost talked herself into believing it when she entered the doorway of the barn. But then Andrew changed her mind again.

He was far more handsome than he had any right being as he stood at the alter, waiting for her and honest-to-God in a tuxedo. And even though she knew he hated them, he made that one look like it had been tailored especially for him. Which, knowing Gammy Annie, was very possible.

His expression was very serious but not grim. In fact, he seemed almost contented as he waited for her to join him at the end of the aisle. If he was nervous, he was hiding it well. He was also staring at her, watching her every move.

It wasn't until she'd taken Annie's arm and made her way halfway up the aisle that she could see the telltale movements that betrayed Andrew's nervousness. He was shifting his feet, just a little, and there was an intensity to his gaze that she didn't recognize. Then again, she'd learned more in two days with him here than she had in three years together in New York, and she had a feeling he had a lot more to show her about himself before this was all over.

For some reason, as they turned toward ( oh God Ramone ) the pastor, she thought, It's like Christmas in a cup. And she knew she couldn't ruin his life and his family just to save her job. So when Ramone asked for objections to the marriage, it was Margaret herself who volunteered one.

* * *

Margaret's pen flew over the paper. Though the barn was no doubt in an uproar and her ex-fiancé was no doubt trapped in the middle of it, she knew that Andrew could burst in at any moment. A small part of her wished he would -- the same part of her that had gotten tattoos when she was sixteen. The usually much more dominate and rational part of her had failed to kick in with the assurances that a way out was what he wanted yet.

She read the letter again and thought it left too much -- far too much -- out. But there was no time. She grabbed her stuff and headed for the door when a flash of blue caught her eye in the mirror.

Annie's necklace, she thought, touching it gently. She'd almost forgotten to give it back. She laid it down gently on top of the dress, her heart all hairline fractures now. Then she walked out before she couldn't, unsurprised that Andrew hadn't come diving in to stop her from going.

Mr. Gilbertson was waiting for her at the pier.

* * *

Frank called while she was flying back to New York. She wanted to shut her phone off, but she didn't. Couldn't.

What if…? She stopped herself. Andrew would have called if he was going to. For him it was a business deal. She had already called New York and informed them of her recommendation to make Andrew an editor. If Bob didn't fire him simply out of spite, he would get his promotion.

She shuddered at the thought of Bob taking over her position. She might have left that for Andrew, too, if he'd had the experience the partners were looking for. She knew he had the work ethic and the eye. She doubted he was ruthless enough for it, though. Being a senior editor was not a role that would win anyone a miss congeniality contest.

Business used to help her keep her mind clear. But now it only reminded her of her great professional loss. And…yes, and of losing Andrew, too.

Well. There was hope yet. Maybe the plane would crash.

* * *

She heard the little pop-up windows explode onto computer screens as she walked through the office, her mouth set in a grim line. As usual, she ignored everyone while they scrambled to get back on task. It might have been comforting after her insane weekend were she not scheduled to leave for Canada in a few hours.

Even the partners were there, waiting in her office. They looked as though they'd spent the last ten minutes practicing how to look composed and yet sorrowful to see her go. She was amused because even after practicing, they were still bad at it.

"Margaret." Her boss frowned deeply, and it creased his forehead, and Margaret thought, careful, your face might freeze that way.

"We're so very sorry you have to go."

"Sometimes love just doesn't work out," said her other boss, and she wondered if his ex-secretary/wife was aware that he was flirting with his new secretary.

"True. Gentlemen, if you please. I have a lot of packing to do."

"Of course, of course," the said, graciously, and left. And she got started.

* * *

It had all reminded her of Andrew. All of it. All of it was somehow connected to a thing he'd said or something she'd forced him to do. She packed her way through the memories and the despair. She packed and packed and when the boxes were full she stacked them. And still she felt desperate, still she tried to come up with other ways to salvage her career from this setback. She didn't even want to think about how she might salvage her wrecked self-image and her confused heart.

* * *

He was there. Margaret didn't know what to say at first, but he was there, in the office, staring at her and panting. Panting? And really, truly there.

* * *

After Andrew was done kissing her in front of every single person that ought to be trembling with fear of her, Margaret took back the paper with the Toronto address and tore it up. She was glad to see that most people had returned to their tasks once the main show was over, although there were a few more smiles now. Even Margaret indulged in one. And Andrew, pleased with his public spectacle, leaned against a desk and gave her one back. Then he handed her Gammy Annie's necklace and she could not speak for a moment. Then she slipped it on and changed the subject, embarrassed by her obvious emotion at his gift.

"So…where did you run from?" she asked. Andrew lifted a shoulder in what was almost a shrug.

"I had the taxi driver let me out a few blocks short. Construction. I didn't think I'd catch you if I sat around in the traffic. But I did get stopped by a cop." He looked vaguely indignant. "I didn't know you could speed on foot."

She said, "Oh," still stuck on the part where he'd run a few city blocks just to catch up to her in time. After flying from Alaska, and taking a taxi from the Bronx.

"I called Immigration on my way over."

That caught her attention. She opened her mouth to ask and he lifted a hand to silence her before she got started.

"The interview's next Monday," he told her, very dryly. "I still have our binder, don't worry."

"So much for a celebratory weekend."

Andrew raised his brows. "I didn't think you celebrated…well, anything, really."

Margaret shrugged. "Sure. Just I usually do it alone. At home."

He smiled wryly, no doubt having expected that answer, but there was compassion in his eyes, too.

"Not anymore, Margaret," he said, and she thought it was maybe the second-most perfect thing he'd said to her today ( the first being, "Marry me").

Then he said, "So when should I pick you up for our first date?"

And Margaret bumped his previous comment to third as his arm slid around her shoulder right there in the middle of the office.

"Five," she told him, and smiled. "You're going to make me miss my plane."

"That was the master plan," he agreed. "Let's unpack your office. And then you can help me move into Bob's old one."

"Oh? You think you're getting Bob's old office?"

"Oh, absolutely. I think I've really, really earned it," he told her as they began to unpack, and she didn't seem to be able to argue that point as she would have liked.

* * *

The phone rang. It was Frank. They both looked at it, and then Margaret pressed Ignore and together she and Andrew sipped their cinnamon soy lattes.

"It really is like Christmas in a cup."

There was a laugh, then, "Shut up."

And his arm was around her as they waited for his parents and Gammy Annie to land.