Author's Note: Hello, I am currently neglecting an entire power point to write this for you. But I see it as worth it. This story is doing so much better than my others so far, and I couldn't be happier. I already have 46 followers which I find amazing, so thank you!

To FireandFlame88- yes, the feels were painful to write. I love Isabelle and Simon, but they just had to be jerks for this story. (That's because I like Clace better!) And I do agree that everyone who would ever lay eyes on clace babies would faint at their beauty, they may just coo at Climon babies. Just saying.

To Jess-KiwiGirl14- I do appreciate the criticism. The whole point of fanfiction to me is to improve my writing as well as put my favorite characters in different scenarios. If you decide to continue reading, your criticism is very much so appreciated. As long as nothing gets mean, I'm cool with it.

Clary

As I follow Jace down winding, dirt paths, I feel the oddest sense of déjà vu. I have been here before, but when? When we come across a polished sign saying "Wayland Manor Est. 1879" my breath catches. The last time I saw that sign, I was fourteen going on fifteen, and we were heading to The Wayland Manor to celebrate Jace's fifteenth birthday. He is only a few months older, but he never let me live it down, stating he is a mature adult while I am a mere child.

At least, that's what he used to tell me. Now we're both adults, and it gives me a sad feeling in the pit of my stomach. I missed so much in Jace's life, and him in mine. I don't think he even knows I'm married, or was, that's over now.

He stops outside the pristine white stone walls. The cherry wood door is rich and warm to the eye. I always loved spending the holidays with my family and Jace's at the manor. Jace and I always got to decorate the tree so nice.

I stop my car next to his bike and get out. The sweet freshness of pine fills my nose as I walk with him to the front door. He silently observes me until I turn and smile at him.

"Well, you're living high Mr. Wayland," I smile. He laughs slightly and produces a simple silver key. He jiggles it in the lock and pushes the door open gingerly. He gestures for me to enter in front of him, and I do. His house is warm, with sunlight spilling through the abundant windows. I smell the rays of sunlight as Jace walks in behind me and closes the door.

"So, want something to drink?" he asks. I nod.

"Yeah, do you have some hot chocolate?" I ask, walking after him to the kitchen.

"Of course I do. Don't you know me at all!" he asks appalled. We laugh, but it ends soon when we realize the answer. I really don't know him at all. I swing myself up onto his counter beside the stove and watch as he gets the chocolate bar and milk. He uses a special chocolate that he melts and mixes with milk to make the best hot chocolate in the world. (AN: It's called Cortes chocolate and is in a yellow wrapper. You can find it in the Spanish section of most supermarkets. In case you wanted to try it.)

I swing my legs lightly as he melts down the chocolate, occasionally stirring it. I missed watching Jace cook. He would always make me dinner on Friday, when he would sleep over. Simon can't cook for crap. I scoff and rest back against the cabinets.

"What was that?" Jace asks laughing, mimicking the noise I just made. I sigh.

"If we're going to dive right in, I'm going to need something stronger than cocoa," I sigh again and he gets a devious smirk.

"No that," he points the cooking spoon at me, splattering me in chocolate, "can be arranged," he nods his head over to a cabinet at the end of the kitchen. I narrow my eyes and hop off the counter. I gingerly open it and see an assortment of liquor bottles, barely touched sitting label-front on the three shelves. At least Jace didn't become a drunkard.

"Bring me the rum and I'll make you a big girl hot chocolate," he smirks. I giggle and bring him the bottle of brown liquid. He already added the milk, making the chocolate a rich brown color. He adds a generous amount of liquor to the boiling cholate and then turns off the stove.

I hand him two dark grey mugs and he divides the drink equally. He hands me one, and walks into the living room. I curl up on the couch and eagerly drink. It dances over my taste buds in burning heat and velvety chocolate. I moan into my cup as Jace sits across from me.

"Good?" he asks. I can only nod and hum in agreement. We sit in peaceful silence and I only break it when my cocoa has run dry and I feel slightly fuzzy in the head.

I walk our mugs to the kitchen and rinse them in the sink, then return to see Jace watching me expectantly. His eyes are lightly glazed with alcohol, but he is more than coherent. I sigh heavily and decide to just dive right in.

"I'm going to tell you why you saw me… the way you did, and what lead up to it. Please don't interrupt, or I won't be able to finish. I'll answer any questions you have after," I tell him, trying to gather my thoughts. He simply nods.

"So, when I turned 22, I married Simon," I pause and gage his reaction. He's shocked and slightly hurt. I tried to invite him, but all the invitations got kicked back, "He was my boyfriend, so I married him, because I loved him," he seems curious about my past tense of the word. I probably still do, but I am also pissed.

"It was great. I had Izzy as my best friend, I have my own art studio, and we have a little house for us," I hear the bitterness as I begin to delve further into my 'perfect life'.

"Simon works at the museum, and a few weeks ago, he kept telling me how he was starting a new exhibit, and had to work late. I trusted him, so I didn't worry. Today, he was supposed to work late again, so I was at my studio. I was having major painter's block, so I went home. I saw Isabelle's and Simon's car there, so I got excited thinking we would all sit around in our pjs like always, and play games and watch movies. I walk up to Simon and my room and see them together, kissing." I feel the tears trickle down. And I rush to wipe them away.

"I confronted them and find out there is no new exhibit, and they have been together the whole time. I left and went to the coffee shop, and now I'm here," I say with mirth, "Any questions?" I ask weakly. I sound so tired, and old. I sound like I just need to sleep, for a few days.

"You seriously married rat-face?" he asks, looking shocked. I frown.

"That's all you got from the entire story, that I married," I giggle a little, "rat-face?"

"Well, that and how can he be so stupid as to cheat on someone as beautiful, smart, talented and funny as you?" I blush and look down.

"I don't know, I am pretty great," he nods in agreement, "but I guess not great enough for him," I feel the tears coming back. He scoots closer to me and places his arms gingerly around me. I stiffen, and then melt into him, smelling his familiar scent. At least that hasn't changed. I still remember my sheets smelling like him after every sleepover.

"Don't you ever say that. You are perfect, and he just hasn't had the eyes to see it," he laughs a little and I look up in confusion, he looks down at me, "I think he needs new glasses," he busts out laughing. I can't help but join. I forgot how infectious Jace's laugh always was.

"Maybe," I murmur, inhaling his scent, "You smell good," I mutter, my drunken words spilling out. He laughs and holds me closer. This is what I need, a nice long hug. Simon hasn't hugged me in months. We sit for a few minutes until Jace speaks.

"Clary?"

"Yeah?"

"Will you stay here with me?" he asks hopefully.

"Like, the night, sure," I reply. He clears his throat and straightens up.

"No, like long term. You can't live with that asshat. I'll go will you and get whatever you need, but please stay here," he pleads. I find it strange he's begging me to stay instead of me begging to stay. Years have passed, but Jace is still the boy I knew all that time. The one who slept over, and made me dinner, and gave me my first kiss. That thought makes my lips tingle.

"I'd love to stay with you. Long term," I smile. He beams down at me, he scoops me up and throws me over his shoulder. I laugh as he begins jogging up the stairs.

He bursts into a room that is no doubt his. The white walls are a dead giveaway. He plops me on his desk chair as he throws open his walk in closet.

"I'll take off the next few days so we can remodel one of the rooms for you, then we'll go pick up your stuff," he jammers excitedly, and it makes me excited. He comes back with a t-shirt and a pair of drawstring shorts. He hands them to me sheepishly.

"These shrunk in the dryer, but I haven't been able to get rid of them. I can buy you some clothes until we pick your stuff up," he offers. I smile up at him. He is just too sweet. I drop the clothes on his desk and wrap my arms around his waist.

"Thank you for everything," I whisper as he holds me tightly to his chest.

"I'd give you the moon Clary," he whispers. We stand like that for a few minutes until he pulls away and offers his shower up to me. I accept gratefully, and he leaves silently. I know I can be happy here with the boy- man that I know will reclaim his spot as my best friend, if he ever lost it.

But for now, I'm still mourning the life I lost. In the shower, I wash off the day, crying to myself, knowing Jace can't hear over the loud spray.