February? Yikes! I would kill me too. I'll be honest, I don't think I realized the demand for this story, but people started to take it personally that I wasn't updating, so I felt like I had to. This was hands-down the hardest chapter to write, which is why it took so long. I apologize. Also, the lack of separations between POVs in this story is not my fault. It seems the site removed them. I apologize for that as well. Apologies all around.

iGo To A Wedding

Chapter Seven: Jogging and Job Hunting

"Mmmm-Freddie…"

Sam's voice pulled me out of sleep, and it only took me a moment to realize she was still asleep against my chest. I could see the sunrise against the sheer curtains, and I knew that we'd slept all night like this.

It made me smile to know that she still talked in her sleep. Once, she'd told me that she loved me more that fried chicken. I felt honored, albeit a little confused.

Now that I was paying attention, I thought she had clammed up, until she groaned, "Mmmmarry me."

I tried not to jump backwards. If she woke up, I'd have to explain myself, and I really didn't want to. What was I supposed to say? I'm sorry. My commitment issues made me want to jump out a window.

No, jumping out a window probably wouldn't be the best idea, but I needed air. Lots of it. Now.

I tried to slip out from under her without waking her, but I failed, and though she was only half-awake, I explained that I was going for a walk. She nodded and turned back over.

I covered her with a blanket as her head slipped to where I'd just been. I shook my head. She really was beautiful while she slept. I wished I could…but no. There was thinking to be done, and that girl kept me from thinking straight, no matter the situation.

I took the fastest shower of my life, and threw on clothes, barely pausing to make sure they were clean. As an afterthought, I grabbed my PearPod where I'd left it in my carry-on, and shoved it in my hoodie pocket, attaching the ear buds to my ears before quietly locking the door behind me.

I'd never been a jogger in my life, but right now I was running on the adrenaline of panic, and I just had to go. I started blasting Bon Jovi and I was in my element. The purpose of leaving was so I could think, but this lack of thinking was quite comforting.

I must have run for half an hour before I stopped, almost totally out of breath. I finally looked up to realize where I was. I was in front of my old building. From here I could see the fire escape where I had my first kiss. With Sam.

It always came back to Sam. I couldn't forget about her for more than half an hour, which was a bad sign, considering I was trying not to fall completely in love with her.

I knew what I needed. I needed advice. I needed brotherly advice.

I looked up at the building, and I knew what I had to do.


After he left, I got up. He must've thought I was going back to sleep, but how could I when I knew what was going on. I knew because I felt the same way.

It was inescapable, this feeling of needing him. It felt like we were a couple, but we couldn't be. The whole reason we'd broken up in the first place was so we would get in the way of each other's dreams. But my dreams were changing, as my restless night had proved.

Whether it was a bad idea or not, I knew that if he asked me to, I would sacrifice everything to be with him, here, Boston, Bombay…I wasn't so sure I could let myself let him walk away again.

My heart was literally beginning to hurt from the stress of thinking like this, and I knew I had to distract myself. After taking a shower and getting dressed, I called Carly and asked her if she needed any help. I must have sounded desperate, because she promised to meet me for lunch, so we could go afterward to get my dress.

Until then, I would have to occupy myself. I flipped through the channels, until I found St. Elmo's Fire. In my head, I could hear Freddie ranting about how much of a travesty it was that John Hughes hadn't directed this. I'd usually had to shut him up with a quick make out session so I could watch the rest of the movie.

I'd always thought that Freddie was like Andrew McCarthy's character, Kevin. He was sensitive to the point of exhaustion, but when it came down to it, I knew he loved my with everything he had. And that's what scared me.

But he was scared too. He must have been, the way he jetted out of here this morning. I wondered what I had done that had pushed him. Freddie was never one to break easily. I must have done…or said…

Insert various expletives here. I couldn't believe I'd been talking in my sleep again. And as usual, I had no idea what I'd said. I tried to remember what I had dreamed last night, and what I could have said in relation to it.

Taffeta. I saw white taffeta, roses, lace…a wedding? I could only remember bits and pieces. Was it Carly's wedding? No, the groom wasn't quite tall enough to be Parker. It must have been…Freddie.

Putting this much together, I realized that I must've been saying something about marriage in my sleep, and Freddie's commitment issues had blown up.

Freddie had turned out well, considering the circumstances he'd grown up in, but there were still residual effects of his mother's loneliness embedded in him. He wanted this. He wanted all of it. He just couldn't bring himself to let it happen.

Which was bad; very, very bad. Because for the first time in a long time, I wanted something so badly it hurt. And I was determined to have it. But I couldn't force him to love me if he couldn't.

But it was Freddie. Somehow, he always did the right thing.


"Well, do the right thing."

I had high expectations for my visit with Spencer. In his most lucid moments, he could exhibit the wisdom of a Greek philosopher. As for the other 99.9% of the time, he could barely tear his eyes away from the television.

I stepped in front of the television and tried to avoid yelling, "That's what I'm saying! I don't know what's right and what's wrong anymore! Have you listened to a single word I've said?"

He looked up at me, flinching. I guess I had been screaming, "You need a shrink."

"I have one," I admitted. "But he's in Boston."

He shrugged and got off the couch, most likely realizing that I wasn't leaving until he helped. His wife was gone, and as such, he didn't want to waste a moment of laziness.

"Listen Freddie, I've always pushed Seddie—"

"You've pushed what?"

"It's what Carly calls you guys. Mission Seddie," he said in his movie trailer voice. He smirked and grabbed a beer out of the fridge, offering me one, but I turned him down. That was all I needed at the moment.

I shook my head to shake off Carly's idea of a good couple name, and prodded Spencer to continue.

"Anyway," he responded, clearing his throat, "The heart of the matter is this. You're holding back. If you want to love her, love her. If you want to leave…do it soon."

I avoided his eyes, "I don't want to leave…but what if I have to."

"You don't have to do anything Freddie," he said, quietly, but urgently.

"What about my job? My home? My friends? I'd have to start over."

"And what's so wrong with that? A fresh start might just be what you need," he said, almost yelling now. I still wasn't convinced, and my eyes must have shown it. He rolled his, "Okay, try this. Close your eyes."

I did so, and he prompted me, "Now think about what life means to you. What's the first thing you picture? Is it your job? Your home?"

I opened my eyes and stared at him. He was smirking knowingly.

Because he knew that life meant love.

And love meant Sam.


"Sam, are you sure you're okay?" Carly asked for the umpteenth time. When I saw my own figure reflected in the salon mirror, I realized that I had been spacing out again.

"Yeah, it's fine," I lied, busying myself with the straps on my dress.

"Something happened last night with Freddie," she gathered, glaring into my reflection.

"Nothing happened last night," I said, which was true. Last night was great. It was the morning that had sucked. "We just talked for a while."

"Well, what did he say?" she tried, digging for information.

"HE didn't say anything," I mumbled, but she caught it.

She thought for a second, and then she smiled knowingly.

"So you talked, and talked, then fell asleep…then talked…"

She took my silence as an affirmation and added, "What exactly did you say?"

I played with the tendrils of my hair, trying to get it to stay in front of my shoulders, but it was barely long enough to do so, and kept falling flat. When this failed, I started to examine the split ends of my blonde curls.

She continued staring at me, and I knew that I wasn't going anywhere until I told her something. Literally. She was my ride.

"Well, I was asleep, so I don't know my exact wording but…"

"But…" Carly continued, never patient enough for a painful confession.

"Well, in my unconscious state, I seemed to have admitted something about wanting to marry him…" I hesitated before finishing coldly "…and he ran out of the room like the couch was on fire."

I could tell that Carly was having a hard time coming up with an answer that would cheer me up rather than make it worse, but the condition of my dress was in jeopardy, and she would have lied shamelessly to keep her wedding as tear-stain-free as possible.

"Look, Freddie has a hard time committing to anything. Do you remember how many hours you spent convincing him that he had to go to Boston? And do you remember his main reason?"

I nodded, but she voiced the answer anyway, "Because once he had you, he didn't want to give you up. And you had to tell him that you didn't want to be with someone without convictions. You convinced him that Boston was where he was supposed to be, because he wouldn't have listened to anyone else."

"So you're telling me that I'm the means of my own destruction?" I said, finally giving up on Carly dropping the subject, and stumbled onto the stiffly padded sofa behind me.

"No," she affirmed. "That would be cruel, and horribly untrue. I'm simply saying that Freddie needs hours of convincing just to pick creamy or crunchy peanut butter. It's going to take him a little while to come around to a decision this big. But he loves you. Don't ever doubt that."

"I don't," I admitted, but made sure I added, "But I'm not sure that's enough."


"Listen Parker, I need your help," I practiced, earning another glare from the receptionist. It had taken long enough to go back to the hotel and press a pair of dress pants and a clean shirt, shower, shave, and get here. After finding my way to Parker's office, I had no way to get in, because I didn't have an appointment, and I had failed to realize just how important he was.

But after twenty minutes of waiting, I finally realized he wasn't even in his office. He was coming from the elevator, a paper fast food cup in his hand. He was chatting with a coworker, but nodded at me as he came down the hallway. I took this time to glare at the receptionist, who had fooled me into believing he'd been here all along. She simply glared back.

Parker took a few steps into his office, but I waited for him to wave me in, and when he did, I smirked menacingly at the receptionist. She only glared harder.

Once I had been admitted, I realized that I had never bothered to figure out what to say when I got here. Parker seemed to notice this, and busied himself with organizing and reorganizing files. He told me I was invited to sit, but I shook my head shortly in refusal.

When I finally found words, I could only hope my nerves would be taken into account.

"Listen Parker, I'm not usual one to ask for favors, especially since you barely even know me, but you have all these connections and…" I cleared my throat, finally deciding my words. "I'm moving back to Seattle. And I need a job."

He stared at me, his eyes wide, as if he was shocked, but I don't think he was entirely surprised. After all, he and Carly had been hoping for this all along.

"Are you sure?" he asked, more for me than him.

I smiled and shook my head, "Not at all. But if there's anything I've learned from Sam, it's that spontaneity sometimes works out for the best."

"Have you talked to her about this?" he asked, pulling his chair closer to his desk, and I suddenly felt like a child called into the Principal's office.

"Not in so many words," I admitted, but I wasn't swayed. "But I could see it in her eyes. In her smile. She's just waiting for me to make a move."

"Well this is quite the move," he admitted, chuckling to himself. Then he looked down at his desk knowingly. "I could pretend I was surprised, but I'm not. Ever since I met you, I've been digging for leads."

"Leads?" I inquired.

He handed me a manila folder, "Victory Studios. They're a new company out of Seattle, mostly TV commercials, small scale stuff, but they want to go bigger. I gave them a call, and gave them the new Pinkbunny advertising campaign, with one condition."

But what does this mean for me? I was tempted to ask, but instead asked, "What's the condition?"

He looked at me as if it should be obvious, "That you be put at the head of the production team for our campaign. Hopefully, it'll lead you to bigger things in the near future. You start in a month. That should be enough time to get things arranged in Boston. And if need be, there's also a studio in Los Angeles," he added carefully.

I couldn't even find the words to thank him, so I simply muttered, "Thank you," and stuck my hand out. He shook it with a broad smile.

"My pleasure. And if you can't find a decent apartment, just let me know. I know how to pull strings," he added, miming a puppeteer. I suddenly realized I was glad to be moving back to Seattle, if for no other reason than the fact I was finally experiencing the concept of male bonding.

The receptionist interrupted and told Parker he had a call, so hid bid me goodbye and picked up the handset, before recalling me and adding, "You know you're invited to my Stag right? It's tomorrow night. You in?"

I make the split-second decision to say yes. If I was already planning to spend the rest of my life with Sam, one night with the guys wouldn't kill me. I nodded to him and waved on my way out the door.

I only made it a few feet before I turned around and glared at the receptionist, who was flushed from either anger or embarrassment. I pasted a fake smile on my face, stated, "Thank you for all of your help," and marched out.


By now, lunch had turned into dinner, and Carly and I were sitting on the patio of a beautiful café, sipping expresso and eating the tiniest pastries one could imagine. I could never imagine living on this diet-for-midgets Carly was on, but I planned on picking up a pizza on my way back to the hotel anyway, and the patio itself was beautiful. I made note of the tiny lights for my future wedding…to whomever it may be.

When I looked up from the table, I could tell that Carly had been smirking again, as well as she thought she was hiding it. Every since she had called to check in with Parker, she had been smirking on and off, and I knew there was something up.

"Carly Shay, you're no-secrets rule isn't exclusive to Freddie and I. You've been grinning like a fox for the last hour, and I insist you tell me what's going on."

She could see that she was caught, and it seemed that she decided to let me in on the secret. She took one more sip of expresso before asking, "So, in all of that talking last night, did either of you happen to mention your future together?"

I thought back and decided that there was no way Carly could know we had talked about our non-existent future children, and shook my head.

"So Sunday, Freddie's going back to Boston?" she tried. I think she had convinced herself that she wouldn't be tattling if I could figure it out on my own. This had always been her tactic when it came to gossip.

"As far as I know," I hazarded. Her grin went to a full out smile in mere seconds.

"So you guys haven't talked about the possibility of moving back to Seattle?" she asked with enough eyebrow-shrugging to start a seizure.

I thought for a moment, before finally understanding what she was hinting at.

"Did he tell you something?" I said, maybe a bit too harshly. After everything Freddie and I had gone through, I still couldn't help but have a tinge of jealousy when I thought of him confiding in Carly.

"No," she admitted, taking a mental step backwards, sensing my discomfort, "But he talked to Parker today. He asked him if there was a way he could help him find a job, if he were to, say, move back to Seattle."

"No, he never said anything," I said. I was overcome with indescribable emotions. So many thoughts were running through my head, I couldn't voice a single one. "But maybe he's just tired of Boston?" I tried, half-heartedly.

As usual, Carly rolled her eyes, "The company Parker found him has two branches. One is in Seattle, the other is in Los Angeles."

I cleared my throat, mostly because I couldn't clear my head. Would he really move back to Seattle for me? And if so, why hadn't he talked to me about it? This was a lot to think on, and I wasn't sure I could handle it in a public place. It must have been evident on my face.

"We could go back to my place if you want?" Carly tried quietly. She held out her hand across the table and I gripped it firmly. "I wouldn't have told you if I thought you were going to react this way. I thought it was good news."

I tried to smile for her sake, "It is. I just, I need to think…"

She nodded, "So do want to come back to my place? Parker's working late tonight."

I shook my head, "Nah. We're only a few blocks from the hotel. I think I'll walk."

She nodded, "Just make sure you get some rest. And even if you're not in the mood, you should come to my Bachelorette Party tomorrow. It'll be fun. And if worst comes to worst, the drinks are on me, right?"

I chuckled as best as I could, but worst comes to worst might be just where I end up.


I looked up from the TV in the bedroom when I heard the door open. I hadn't heard from Sam since this morning, and I was slightly worried that she wouldn't come back. Not that she would be kidnapped, raped, or murdered, but that of her own free will, she wasn't coming back.

Once I got back to the suite, I had had some serious time to think, and I realized that what I had done this morning was stupid, and that I'd probably hurt her rushing out like that. But at the time I wasn't thinking. I was feeling. Which was new for me.

She came into the bedroom, and I could tell she'd been crying. I went to get out from under the covers, but she shook her head, and handed me a bag of Chinese takeout. I started to take out containers, while she went over to the sink and started to take her clothes off. It wasn't meant to be sexy or sensuous. She was extremely vulnerable, more vulnerable than I had ever seen her, and it scared me.

She put on the shirt I had neatly pressed earlier, which I had thrown over an armchair and got in the bed with me. I handed her a fork and a container, and she took it, while staring at me.

When she broke eye contact, she mumbled, "So what's on?"

I was taken aback, but I stuttered out, "St. Elmo's Fire."

I saw a glimmer of a smile as she finally started to eat, and I could tell she was starting to go back to normal, but there was still a shadow of something I couldn't name, and I was still pretty scared.

"I'm sorry," I tried, trying to catch her eyes.

She looked up from the movie and answered quietly, as if still slightly possessed by the being that had walked in a few minutes ago, "What for?"

"I'm not positive," I admitted, searching her eyes for a specific answer, but finding none. "But whatever I did to make you cry, I'm sorry. If it was breathing, let me know. I'm smart, I can figure out a way not to breathe if you want."

She started to smile a little, and stabbed lazily at her fried rice.

"If it was talking, I can stop," I said, and paused for a few moments, before adding, "But could you let me know, because if that's not it, I would love to be able to apologize some more."

The desired effect was to make her happy, but instead, I guess I was being…charming? I didn't get it. What I did get was her lips on mine, and her hands holding my face as if she was afraid it would run away. As I kissed her back, I realized my lap was now covered with steaming fried rice, and I really didn't give a damn.

But after the way I saw her a few minutes ago, I really didn't want to get physical tonight. After all, St. Elmo's was on. She was probably fantasizing about Andrew McCarthy anyway. I pulled back and she seemed to understand.

She helped me shake the fried rice off the comforter before pulling it up around us and cuddling up to my chest.

When we had finally settled in, I heard her whisper, "Thank you."

I hesitated, before asking, "What for?"

She just smiled at the TV, and I decided that I would take that as my answer.


Well guys, I hope that wasn't so bad. Actually, I think I'll be ahead if any of you even read this story. And a special thank you to those of you who threatened me in the past weeks…okay, months. Even though it took so long for me to actually update [pulls out guitar] you were always on my mind!

Please review :]