Quick update before I leave for my last day of work. Yay.

Late Thursday morning, Spiederman woke up and sighed. It was the first time he'd stayed at the loft overnight and slept in the same bed as Monica. He looked over and saw that she was already awake and probably downstairs, making breakfast. Before he could get out of bed, his cell phone rang.

"Hello?" he yawned, looking for a t-shirt.

"Spied, it's me," Tommy said quietly, watching Nic dance to the Spice Girls while she cooked pancakes. "What are you doing?"

"Waking up," Spiederman answered, running a hand through his messy blonde hair. "Why?"

"I'm with her," Tommy muttered, turning his back to his sister. "Nic, I mean."

Spiederman pulled his hand away. "Yeah, Jude told me you went down there. Can I ask why?"

"Well, I spent two days trying to get through to you and that wasn't working, so I moved onto her," Tommy explained. "Though after a day with her, I've made no progress."

"Tommy, what do you want me to say here?" Spiederman asked. "I'm supposed to have lunch with the Robbins' today and then I'm meeting with the band and Darius about the progression of our second album and since our producer won't be there, I actually have to pay attention."

Tommy laughed. "Hilarious."

"Hey, who's on the phone?" Nic called over her shoulder. "Jude? Tell her I miss her! And the girls!"

"No, it's, uhh, Kwest," Tommy lied. "He's got a question about something Patsy wants to do with her album."

"Well, tell him I miss him," Nic shrugged, going back to her cooking.

"She misses you," Tommy told him. "She thinks you're Kwest, of course, but trust me, she misses Spiederman way more."

"I miss her, too," Spiederman whispered. Suddenly he heard Monica's footsteps on the stairs. "Tommy, I gotta go. Bye." He hung up, threw his phone on the night stand, and slid back under the covers.

Monica silently opened the door and stuck her head in. "Vince, are you awake?"

"Huh?" he said, sitting up tiredly. "Oh, yeah, I guess I am now."

"You don't have to get up!" she assured him hurriedly. "There are omelets downstairs, the way you like them, if you want and my parents expect us at Wyndemere at 2:00."

"Can we not go to Wyndemere?" he requested. "It just seems that recently, that place and I do not go so well together."

She stepped into the room and went to her vanity. "Vince, my parents already made the reservation and you know they don't like change."

"Right, because it's still always about them," he mumbled, getting out of bed. "I'm gonna take a shower and pass on that omelet, but thanks anyways."

"Sure," she nodded as he shut the door behind him.

After his shower, Spiederman locked himself into his music room and picked up his acoustic. He missed Nic, that was for sure; even the memories of her visit were fading already. He hated being in the same house with Monica, preparing to raise a child with her. But at the same time, he felt truly sorry for Monica, too. Here she was, 21-years-old, forced into an environment with the guy who'd stood her up at the altar. On top of that, the only thing on his mind was the girl he'd left her for. In the time since Nic had finally gone, Spiederman had only thought of the baby once.

"Dude," Wally said as he let himself and Kyle in a moment later. "What are you doing in here?"

"How'd you get in?" Spiederman demanded.

Kyle held up a bobby pin. "Free lessons from Patsy."

"Well, what do you want?" Spiederman asked. "I'm busy."

"Right," Wally smirked. "Because holding your guitar and staring off into space is so important."

Spiederman glared at his two best friends and put the guitar aside. "Okay, I may not be busy, but I'm not in the mood."

"Dude, we have that meeting tonight about the album, which is basically going nowhere, so get in the mood," Kyle advised. "I mean, we're looking at an August release and yet, we have three songs done."

Wally cut in. "That means we need like, ten to eleven songs in four months. That's a lot of song-writing."

"Then why don't you guys try to help me?" the guitarist snapped. "You're always finding something wrong with my lyrics, so instead of criticizing, you take the reins."

"Since I know you're upset right now, I'm gonna let what you just said slide, but for future reference, I wrote our most popular song," Kyle pointed out. "We wouldn't have gone

platinum in our debut album if it weren't for 'Leave the Running to Track Stars,' you know."

Spiederman sighed. "I know; I'm sorry. Look, Tommy called this morning."

"From Montana," Wally filled in. "How's that going?"

"Not good," Spiederman answered somberly. "He said she's as bad as me and it only got worse."

"What?" Kyle asked worriedly, settling into a bean bag. "Is she okay?"

"I heard her voice," Spiederman whispered. "And I heard the Spice Girls and I could just imagine her dancing around, making banana pancakes."

Kyle smiled. "It's her specialty."

"Naturally, Monica appeared at the time so I had to end the call and pretend I was still sleeping," Spiederman explained. "And now, I'm set for lunch with her parents at 2:00 and then D at 5:30. I've only been awake for an hour and already my day is not so good."

"No kidding," Wally agreed. "I woke up at 9:45, Jess made Belgian waffles for breakfast, we finished painting the guest room, and then Kyle picked me up for this intervention."

Kyle shrugged. "I woke up, left Sasha's house, showered, and picked up Wally."

"Sasha?" Wally repeated. "The underwear model for Calvin Klein? You dog."

"She's pretty hot," Kyle agreed. "But Russian, so I don't understand a word she says." He paused. "Maybe that's a good thing. For all I know, she's telling me she's in love with me or that her dad is some heavyweight wrestler from Moscow. Either way, she's gonna be a one-hit wonder."

Spiederman threw an extra guitar pick at him. "And Nic swears she likes you just the way you are."

"Who wouldn't?" Kyle shrugged playfully. "Nic's smart; she's got good taste in men, whether it's her choice in friends or boyfriends, I guess."

"Too bad she can't find one that doesn't bring a Titanic full of drama," Spiederman mumbled. "I mean, there was me, and then Tra Malcolm, and then me again."

Wally held up a hand. "Wait. Could you please explain the Tra Malcolm story? Or did you not know that they were never engaged?"

"I knew," Spiederman confirmed. "Trust me, it was way shocking when Tommy told me back when that was all unfolding, but it worked out. Anyways, she hooked up with Tra last June and they made it six months before she dumped him."

"Why?" Kyle interrupted. "I mean, he dated Gisele, supposedly."

"She did it the night he found her clutching the magazine that broke the Monica engagement, drunk out of her Manolos," Spiederman told them. "She started ranting about not loving him and how it wasn't fair, so she dumped him. Less than a week later, she was back here."

Wally nodded. "And the faux-engagement that he seemed okay with?"

"The night Nic first made her debut at G-Major from being back, Jude called Tra about getting him here for a little engagement party for the two of them," Spiederman continued. "He told her that Nic had dumped him and there was no wedding. After that, he called Nic and they talked about it and she explained everything and he agreed to come here and play 'Fiancé' to make me jealous, which obviously worked, and then they orchestrated the break-up."

"Wow," Kyle breathed. "Quite the elaborate plan she formulated there, huh? I mean, that was something pretty huge and she was able to keep it from me for four months, so hat's off to her."

Spiederman wasn't listening. Instead, he was staring at a picture on a small table near the door, of him with Monica back at Thanksgiving. It was pre-Nic's return, pre-baby, and pre-heartbreak. They were standing in his parents' living room, in front of the just put up Christmas tree. In the picture, they looked like the epitome of 'happy couple,' but looks were deceiving. Deep down, he'd known he'd never been completely happy with Monica because no matter how much he had once loved her, she still wasn't that brunette girl who'd changed his life over two years before.

"You can put it away, you know," Wally said, breaking his concentration. "A frame that small will fit into any standard shoe box."

"Why put it away?" Spiederman asked. "That's going to be my life now. Holidays with Monica and the baby, spending time with people who know I'm unhappy."

Wally and Kyle sighed. They were starting to realize that their onetime fearless leader was no longer so fearless.

"Are you almost ready?" Monica asked Spiederman around 1:30 that afternoon. "We should probably get there before my parents do; it's polite."

He refused to look at her. "Whatever."

"So we'll take my car, right?" she assumed, looking through her purse for her keys. "My parents hate your Jeep."

"And I hate your stupid Volvo," he muttered. "I'm not riding in that car."

She stared at him. "Then what do you recommend we do, Vince? Walk? Or, worse, take a taxi?"

"We'll take Nic's Lexus," he answered. "She left that to me cause it was too hard to get it to Montana. Do your parents have anything against a Lexus?"

"No," she shook her head, leading him out of the loft. "How will we explain it?"

He rolled his eyes. "I'll worry about that when the time comes."

The ride to Wyndemere was silent, other than the rough track of SME's latest single, 'It's in the Kool-Aid,' playing in the stereo. When they got to the restaurant, a hostess led them to their table and seated them next to each other.

"Mr. Spiederman, how nice to see you," Antonio, his favorite waiter, smiled when he approached them for drinks. "Is Miss Nic not joining you today?"

"No," Spiederman said, looking at the menu. "She's not."

Antonio nodded. "I see. Well, might I start you off with some drinks today?"

"I'll have lemon water," Monica told him. "Room temperature, please."

"And I'll have a rum and Coke," Spiederman added.

Monica eyed him. "Do you think that's wise? To drink at lunch with my parents?"

"I don't think it's wise to not drink at lunch with your parents. In fact, I don't think it's wise to have lunch with your parents at all, but I'm here, so I'm doing it my way," he shrugged. "If George and Elise don't like it, it just makes it all the more reason to do it."

A moment later, Monica's parents arrived and sat down across from them.

"Vince, how are you?" George asked tersely, obviously just as unhappy to he there. "How are things with your music?"

"Fine," Spiederman responded vaguely. "We're working on our second album and then we'll probably start touring sometime in November or so."

"You'll go on tour when you have Monica and an infant at home?" Elise interrupted in horror. "How could you just leave them like that?"

"It's my job," he explained. "I'm not going to give up something I've worked so hard for to raise a family I never planned."

George was outraged. "You did plan this family last December when you proposed to our daughter. You just gave it up when that girl came back to town."

"That girl?" Spiederman repeated heatedly. "You mean that girl who voluntarily agreed to let me come back to Monica to help her? Don't talk about her like she's a bad person, dude."

"She did the right thing," Elise said coldly. "She'd be a homewrecker if she kept you from this baby."

Spiederman stood up. "This is ridiculous. I'm not going to sit here and listen to you two yuppies talk about stuff you know absolutely nothing about." He threw some money onto the

table and hurried out, speeding away in the Lexus.

"Who's car is that?" George wondered, watching him go. "Does he no longer have the Jeep?"

"He does," Monica replied. "It's Nic's; she left it to him," she added sadly.