Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended. The original plot and storyline of Never Enough, however, belong to me. Please be nice and don't copy or translate without permission. Thank you.

"Thanks" seems so inadequate for all that Cullen_Crazy 01 and iadorepugs do for me, but thanks is what I have to offer. So lucky to have the both of you.

Posting a little early due to the holiday & busy weekend coming up. For those of you who celebrate, Happy Easter!

All right, read on, and meet me at the bottom...

Chapter 10

The weeks leading up to the Thanksgiving holiday passed swiftly. During the hurry-up-and-wait process of applications and permits, Angela and I spent more time together than when we lived together in college. Most days would find us at one house or the other, our laptops lined up side by side as we worked. Angela had the much more difficult job in setting up and licensing the café, so when Jasper's friends Peter and Charlotte, the owners of Maria's, offered their assistance in negotiating the regulatory minefield, it was a Godsend.

While Angela and Charlotte worked together on the café, I immersed myself in filling the bookstore. I spent countless hours online, perusing website after website for all the kinds of things I wanted to see in the store. My list grew exponentially every time I opened a website to find yet another item I wanted us to carry. I spent hours on the phone each day with vendors, discussing products, display, and all variety of numbers – costs, projections, profit margins.

I was grateful every day for the team we had helping us with the project, and the friends that were on that team. I had said at first that we never would have started the project without their help. I knew now that there was no way A New Page would have ever come to fruition without their support, knowledge and expertise.

Rosalie was a legal powerhouse. She badgered various associates at her firm to push through the red tape and keep things moving. Between setting up the corporation, filing the applications and permits, and completing the financial paperwork necessary for an undertaking of this magnitude, we were constantly reviewing, revising, and signing documents. Rosalie kept the confusing jumble of papers organized and kept us on track, dumbing down the legalese when it got to be too confusing or too complicated.

Ben was our financial guru. Even though I had initially been opposed to borrowing money to pay for something I had the cash to do, he convinced me that loans in the name of the business were a good idea. Through the corporation, we made all the financial arrangements not just for the construction phase, but for our estimated opening and operating expenses for the first year. When Ben also offered to spearhead the human resources portion, Angela and I willingly ceded this control to him.

Alice was a design dynamo. Angela and I spent only one afternoon in her studio, flipping through design books and color swatches. She didn't take a single note the entire time we were there, but somehow managed to seize upon each of our tastes. She asked us to trust her to whittle down the outrageous number of choices to a couple of manageable ones. When we were able to choose the café furnishings in under fifteen minutes, especially after she showed us the stack of catalogs she had reviewed to narrow down our choices, we were completely sold on her methods.

Once the applications were approved and the permits issued, Emmett and Jasper had every aspect of the construction and renovation scheduled and, surprisingly, under control. It simply amazed me to watch the space take shape, project by project, day by day. What had started out as an empty space was roughed in as a bathroom within a few days. The storage and office space I had toured with Edward was shifted, and the children's alcove I had imagined began to come to life. Installation of the shelving was moving up on the list of improvements, and I was almost giddy at the thought of filling those shelves.

The most major of the changes, the café, literally appeared out of nowhere in a short period of time. Broad expanses of floor space gave way to sleek cabinets and counter tops. The kitchen elements were installed, although after further research, we'd had to scale back a bit on the original menu, offering mostly pre-made items. Angela was disappointed at first, but was thrilled when she and Charlotte partnered up with a local chef and baker to supply both the bookstore and Maria's. We were able to bypass a huge jumble of regulations with this rather simple change, which literally took weeks off of our schedule.

Edward was involved in nearly every aspect of the renovation, construction and setup. He had modified the plans as required and requested. He was on site a couple of days a week, making sure that the plans were followed, and available at any time if any tweaks had to be made. He was there to answer the questions of the subcontractors and inspect materials and installations. He even pitched in when the contractors were short staffed, having admitted to me that he'd worked his way through college doing construction over the summers.

I'd nearly had a heart attack the day I found him in the back room, pounding nails along side the man who was framing the new office wall. Edward's jacket and dress shirt were slung over a nearby chair, and his thin white tee shirt clung to the sweat-dampened muscles of his back and shoulders. He was laughing at something the contractor said, and I watched in open-mouthed fascination as he raised his arm to swipe at the sweat that had beaded on his forehead. When he bent over to pick up a box of nails off the floor, his tee shirt rode up to give me a glimpse of the sinuous muscles of his lower back, just above the waistband of the dress slacks that seemed out of place with the rest of his appearance.

Touch him! My inner voice begged, and I literally had to fist my hands to avoid the impulse I felt to reach out and trace the defined line of his spine where it dipped into his pants. I felt a clenching low in my abdomen; if I were a guy, I'd have had to adjust myself. Just friends! I mentally screamed back at the voice, backing out of the room before he noticed me standing there with my jaw dropped and drool on my chin. It's not like I'd never seen a good-looking man before. After all, I had been married to Jake for fifteen years and most of his friends were just as attractive as he was. There was just something about Edward, though - he was simply one of the most beautiful men I had ever seen.

It wasn't just his looks, though. He was charming and easy to talk to, with an acerbic wit that I loved to match with my own. I discovered that was very well read and had a well informed opinion on most topics. He was the kind of guy that could have his pick of just about anyone, including women that were younger and had considerably less baggage than I.

On the days I didn't see Edward at the bookstore, I would usually come home to an email, or he would send me a text, or we would spend some time in the evening instant messaging. More than once I had stayed up far later than was prudent to chat with him via Facebook. Our subtle flirtation continued, and my crush grew, but my own insecurities held me back from acting on my crush. I needed his friendship too much to take the risk.

While everything at the bookstore was going quite well, things at home were not progressing as smoothly, and I was already struggling with how to balance the two. I had been late getting home once already this week, and missed one of Will's basketball games last week when I had to attend a zoning board meeting. He said it was okay, but his withdrawn silence that night spoke volumes.

The next morning, Sarah's biting comments finally goaded me into grounding her from her cell phone, the computer and her iPod until the weekend. It also meant that I'd needed to be at home to enforce the punishment, although I'm not sure who that punished more, the surly teen or the exasperated mother. I had extended the grounding through the weekend when I'd learned she'd appealed her punishment to her father. I was grateful for Jacob's backup when he told her he would have taken her things away for longer in the first place. Her punishment was over now, and she was being careful not to do anything that might result in such a penalty again, although the line she skated sometimes was paper thin.

It was the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, and we were leaving tomorrow to spend a couple of days in Forks with my dad and Sue. The kids didn't have school today, and when I left this morning, they were both still sleeping soundly. I had been at the bookstore all day, sorting through my first shipment of books, and it was almost dark out. Wanting to wrap up things as much as possible before being gone for a couple of days, I sent the kids a text saying I would be at the bookstore for a little while longer, and to go ahead and order pizza for dinner.

About thirty minutes later, I was in the stock room in the back going through boxes when I heard loud pounding on the locked front door. I groaned as I rose stiffly from the hard floor upon which I had been sitting. "I'll be right there!" I yelled, my voice echoing through the darkened space as I limped toward the entrance, rubbing my backside and arching my back against the soreness.

Sarah's baleful glare met me when I opened the door. "Hey Mom, thanks for the text. It's a shitty substitute for actual parenting, but you've got your priorities, right?" she snarled, pushing past me and storming into the store.

I was stunned into silence for a moment at the vehemence of her attack, but my anger quickly won out. "Sarah Marie Black! I will not tolerate you speaking to me that way!"

"I really don't care what you will tolerate, Mother," she hissed. "I'm here to tell you that your son has been sick all day, and I've been taking care of him, instead of you, his mother, the one that should be there! He wouldn't let me call you - 'Don't bother Mom, she's too busy'," she quoted, and I could see the concern in her eyes even as they blazed with righteous anger at me.

"What's wrong with Will?" I asked, cutting her off before she could light into me again.

"He started throwing up just after you left, and he's not been able to keep anything down at all today." Sarah's voice had lost some of its vehemence, and tears were in her eyes. She had always been so protective of her little brother. But when she looked up and met my gaze, her eyes hardened, and she glared at me anew. "When I told him I would call you, he told me no, that what you were doing today was more important." She choked on the last two words. "He thinks your stupid bookstore is more important than he is!"

Each one of her words was a sledgehammer to my heart. He couldn't really believe that, could he? Sarah was just upset. My babies didn't really think they were less important to me than a job. Did they?

I reached out toward her, flinching as she pulled her arm away from my seeking fingers. "Sarah, there is nothing more important to me in this entire world than you and Will. I'm sorry I haven't been home as much the last couple of weeks, but…"

She cut me off. "Save it, Mom. Save it for someone who might actually believe you. I know what your priorities are now." She ticked them off on her fingers, one by one, each statement another blow. "You miss more dinners than you're home for. If you are home for dinner, it's takeout anyway. Meetings are more important than Will's games. Time on the computer trumps evenings at home. And being at the bookstore takes precedence over everything." Her voice broke, and despite the anger in her tone, I could see the unshed tears in her eyes. I ached with the knowledge that she would not willingly accept comfort from me.

"Despite what you may think, Sarah, there is truly nothing more important in my entire life than you and your brother," I said softly, watching helplessly as a tear escaped the corner of her eye and tracked down her cheek. "Let me grab my purse, and we'll go home and talk about this."

"Rebecca is waiting outside – I called her to bring me here once Will fell asleep," Sarah said, wiping furiously at the lone tear, unable to stop the others from falling. "I'm going home now to make sure he's okay. Feel free to join us if you have the time," she snapped, her voice gaining strength once again as she turned and walked away from me.

"Sarah, please!" I called out, knowing that I was begging and not caring. "It will only take a minute…"

"I'll see you at home, Mom," she said coldly, grabbing the door and running out into the dark night. I sprinted after her, but my speed was no match for that of my athletic daughter. I was unable to catch her before she climbed in and the car pulled away from the curb, tires squealing. I stood at the curb, feeling tears well up and spill over as I watched the taillights disappear down the street.

The sound of another approaching car caught my attention, and I mimicked my daughter's earlier actions, rubbing frantically at the tears on my cheeks as the car slowed down considerably as it passed. I turned to go back into the store, my blood pounding in my ears, shutting out all ambient street noise. My mind was focused on my only goals - I needed to get home, and I needed to see Will.

I grabbed the doorknob and twisted it as I felt a hand grip my shoulder. I was unable to bite back the scream that rose at the unexpected contact. As the only daughter of the chief of police, my dad's instructions immediately came back to me. Instinctively, I threw my elbow back and felt it connect with a solid abdomen, the whoosh of air indicating I had knocked the air out of my attacker's lungs. The hand dropped from my shoulder and I lurched forward, trying to get into the building before he recovered. I slid into the open doorway and turned to slam and lock it, when a large foot clad in a familiar pair of black Nikes inserted itself between the door and the jam. The door banged the knee of the leg that blocked it, and the owner of the leg groaned loudly in distress. Startled, I looked up into the pained green eyes of Edward Cullen.

"Edward! Oh my God, I'm so sorry!" I cried, wrenching the door open He was hunched slightly at the waist, one hand splayed across his abdomen, the other now reaching for his knee. He stumbled forward slightly, swearing under his breath as he put his weight on his injured leg.

"All I can say is thank God you aren't about two inches shorter," Edward muttered, his hand rubbing his abdomen just above the button fly of his jeans where my elbow had obviously connected. My eyes automatically dropped the two inches he suggested, widening at the implication as I caught myself staring at his crotch. I felt a blush stain my cheeks.

"I'm so sorry," I repeated helplessly, a wave of guilt crashing over me. "You scared me, and I reacted out of instinct."

Edward waved off my apology. "It's okay. But I called your name three of four times. You must have been pretty deep in thought to have missed that. What were you doing out in the street anyway, Bella?" he asked, his eyes concerned.

His words brought me back to what had transpired. "Will!" I gasped, horrified that I had forgotten, even for a second, that my son was sick. Sarah was right – mother of the year I was not. "I've got to get home!" I said frantically, turning away from Edward toward the office.

"Bella, what's wrong?" he asked urgently, reaching out to place a restraining hand on my arm. My eyes filled with tears at the concern in his voice, and overflowed when I met his distressed gaze. I gasped, a choking sob escaping my throat, my tears falling freely as he pulled me into the warm circle of his arms.

I buried my face against his chest, my arms gripping him tightly as I cried with abandon. I don't know how long we stood there, but it was long enough for me to soak his shirt with my tears. I couldn't hear his actual words as I cried, I just felt the reassuring tenor of his voice as he soothed me. His hands stroked my hair, my shoulders, and my back as my wracking sobs quieted into soft hiccups, and eventually melancholy sighs.

Edward now hummed softly, the fingers of one hand tracing the back of my neck while the other held me snugly against him. He raised his hands to my face, cupping my cheeks and tilting my head back so he could look into my eyes. I could only imagine how I looked. My nose red, swollen and dripping. My eyes puffy and bloodshot, all traces of makeup washed away by the saltwater of my tears. I tried to pull away, but Edward wouldn't allow it, holding my face steady between his warm hands.

"Feeling a little better now?" he asked, his voice low and husky. He gently wiped at the moisture beneath my eyes with the pads of his thumbs.

I nodded wordlessly, closing my eyes briefly as his fingers soothed the swollen skin, the comfort of his touch immeasurable. I opened them again after a few moments, and met his warm gaze, which was dark with worry.

"Can you tell me what happened, Bella?"

"I had a fight with my daughter," I croaked, my voice hoarse and low.

He waited for me to continue, but I was unable to do so as the tears welled up again. He waited until I had control over my emotions again. "Do you want to talk about it?" he offered.

I shook my head. "You don't need to hear about my problems, Edward."

"I want to help, even if you just need someone to talk to or a shoulder to cry on." His voice was low, persuasive. When the tears came this time, they were from gratitude. I hiccoughed another soft sob, and he pulled me back into his arms. "Talk to me, Bella. Please."

"My daughter was just here," I mumbled into his chest as his hand started stroking my hair again. "Will, my son, has been home sick all day. He didn't call me, and he wouldn't let Sarah call me, either. He told her..." my voice cracked. I took a deep, shuddering breath, forcing the words out. "He said not to call me because the bookstore is more important. He thinks this place is more important than he is! What kind of horrible mother am I that my own son believes he is not the most important thing to me?"

"Bella, you're a wonderful mother, and your son knows that." Edward's voice was calm, a soothing balm to my frayed nerves. "He knows you love him, he knows you would do anything for him."

"How can you know that?" I gasped, desperate for reassurance. "How can you think that I'm a good mother, when he's sick and I'm here? How can a good mother not know when her child needs her?"

Edward chuckled lightly. "Bella, I was raised by a good mother. I am surrounded by them – Rosalie, Alice … you. I've only known you a few months, and I already know that your world revolves around your children. Surely the children that have been with you all these years recognize it as well." He hugged me a little tighter before continuing, his voice low and vehement. "I've also seen bad mothers, and I can state unequivocally that you are not one of them."

"But I left him there, all alone, sick..."

He gently but firmly interrupted me. "No, Bella. You didn't know he was sick. How could you have known? Was he sick last night? Was he sick this morning before you left? And from what you said, he wasn't alone - his sister was with him, right?" I didn't want to listen to reason, I didn't want to hear the common sense of his argument. All I wanted to do was castigate myself for not being there when I was needed.

Edward, however, was not going to let me off that hook so easily. "Bella, stop beating yourself up about this. It was out of your control, and now you just need to focus on what you can do. Let's get you home to your kids, okay?"

"Thank you, Edward," I whispered softly. The guilt still tore at me, but it helped knowing that he had faith in me, even if I had none in myself.

"You're welcome, Bella," he whispered back, and I felt what I thought was the press of his lips against my hair just before he released me. "Go get your things – I'll meet you by the back door."

I grabbed my purse and bag from the office, then stopped in the bathroom for damage control. I groaned in horror when I saw my reflection. It was every bit as bad as I had feared – swollen, rheumy eyes, red bulbous nose, and mascara-streaked cheeks. My hair clung in tear dampened clumps to my face and neck.

I knew it would upset Will terribly to see me like this, so I set about repairing the damage. I dug into my purse for my brush and a hair tie, pulling the tangled mess out of my face. I splashed cold water on my face, pressing a saturated paper towel to my eyes for a few minutes. It was pretty much a lost cause after the copious amount of tears I had cried. I dried my face and hands, and stepped back into the storage area.

Edward had closed and locked the front door, drawing the shades and shutting the lights off. In the storage room, he had moved the box I had been sorting, and neatly stacked the paperwork on the table. The lights in the office were off as well, and he stood near that back entrance, his keys in hand, waiting patiently for me.

I felt another rush of gratitude as I approached him. I didn't know how I would have managed to pull myself together without his assistance. It suddenly occurred to me that I had no idea why he was here, other than acting as my personal guardian angel. "Edward, I really can't thank you enough for your help tonight. I didn't even stop to ask why you were here, I'm sorry for monopolizing your time."

"I was driving by and saw you outside and decided to stop in. I'm just glad that I could be here for you," he replied softly, a hint of a blush coloring his cheeks. "C'mon, let me walk you to your car." He held the door open for me, then locked it securely behind us, testing it the same way I always did. He placed his hand at the small of my back as we walked across the parking lot.

He waited for me to unlock the door, then grasped the handle and opened it for me. He took my purse and bag from me, walking around to deposit them on the passenger seat before coming back around to my side of the car to close the door. I started the engine and rolled down the window.

"Are you all right to drive?" he asked, leaning down so that his face was framed in the window.

"I'll be fine," I assured him.

"Send me a text later, let me know you're okay?" he requested. He could see the protest forming. "Please, Bella?"

It was the very least I could do after all he had done for me this evening. "All right, I will," I promised, and he smiled his crooked grin at me. Even as heavy as my heart was, the familiar sight of his smile made my pulse race. "Thanks again."

"Any time, Bella," he said, reaching out and lightly touching my cheek with his index finger. He withdrew his hand and straightened up, stepping back from the car. I rolled up the window and slowly pulled away from the parking lot, watching him in my rear view mirror as I left. I drove slowly, trying to work out in my head what I was going to say to each of the kids when I got home. I was so preoccupied that I didn't even notice the silver car following me until I turned in the driveway and it slowed down. I could just make out Edward's silhouette in the dim light of the dashboard. He waited until I had the front door open before he pulled away from the curb. His thoughtfulness made me smile as I entered the house.

The downstairs was dark and still, the only noise the muffled sound of Sarah's music coming from up stairs. I dropped my purse and bag in their usual spot before climbing the stairs. I paused outside Sarah's door, debating, before deciding to check on Will first.

Will was sprawled diagonally across his bed, his feet hanging off one side, his head near the foot of his bed as he slept. The low light from his desk lamp angled across his face, highlighting the chiseled cheekbones that were slowly emerging from the puppy fat that used to round his cheeks. I reached out to brush his silky hair from his eyes, which popped open the moment I touched him.

"Hi, Mom," he said sleepily, smiling at me as he caught my fingers with his for a squeeze. He stretched slowly, starting with his toes and going all the way up his body, a huge yawn wracking his frame. He grinned at me, then pushed himself into a sitting position. "What time is it?" he asked.

"Almost eight," I told him, taking a seat beside him on the bed. "How are you feeling?" I asked, reaching out to touch his cheek, flushed either from sleep or a fever.

"Sarah called you," Will said flatly, his brow creasing with annoyance at his sister.

"Sarah told me you were sick, yes," I said evenly. "But I want to know why you didn't want her to call me. Or better yet, why you didn't call me yourself?" I kept my tone carefully neutral, knowing that Will picked up on my emotions so easily.

He shrugged his shoulders. "Really, Mom, what could you have done here, with me sick?" he asked matter-of-factly. "I wasn't exactly good company today."

"I would have been here if you needed anything," I told him, unable to stop my fingers from reaching out to touch his hand. "I could have helped."

"But I knew you were there if I needed you, and that you'd come home if I called," he told me. "Seriously, I spent half the day yarfing into the toilet – what could you have done? Sat around and worried and hovered? No offense – I really didn't want any company in the bathroom." He shuddered theatrically, and I had to laugh.

"Point taken," I agreed. But you know I would have been here, if I had known, right? You know that there is nothing more important to me than you and your sister, don't you?" I bit my bottom lip as I asked the question, Sarah's accusations echoing in my mind.

"Well duh!" Will said succinctly, rolling his eyes. "What else would I think, really!" He seemed genuinely annoyed by the notion that I would question such a thing. "Seriously, Mom, you need to get a grip on the guilt thing, or you're going to drive us all nuts."

I found myself laughing again, my heart lighter, as I turned the conversation back to him again. "All right, I'll try. But you've got to promise to let me know when something's going on, like today. Have you been able to keep anything down?"

"Sure sure," Will said, his smile just like his father's. "I haven't thrown up since late afternoon, and I've been drinking water this evening. I was actually thinking about making something to eat." As if to prove his point, his stomach grumbled loudly.

"How about I heat up some of that chicken soup in the freezer? I'm a little hungry, too," I told him.

"That sounds great!" Will enthused. "Can I go hop in the shower? I feel pretty gross after lying around all day."

"Sure, come on down when you're done," I told him, getting up from his bed. I watched him gather his things, and followed him out. He padded down the hall, disappearing into the bathroom as I stopped outside Sarah's door.

I knocked loudly, waiting for her muffled "Come in!" before opening the door. Sarah was curled up on her bed, a blanket over her lap and a book in her hands. I could tell from her swollen eyes that she had been crying at some point.

"I'd like to talk to you," I told her. She gestured wordlessly to the foot of her bed, which I took as an invitation to sit down. She kept her eyes on her book, either unwilling or unable to meet my gaze.

I knew my first words would shock her. "I want to thank you, Sarah," I told her calmly.

She immediately looked up, startled by my words and tone as I knew she would be. "Th-thank me?" she stuttered incredulously.

"Yes. Thank you for coming to tell me that Will was sick. He shouldn't have kept it from me, and I appreciate you looking out for him."

This clearly was not the conversation Sarah had anticipated. Where she had been filled with sullen indignation, my gratitude literally sucked all her anger away. She stared at me, confused. "I don't understand?" she questioned softly. " I thought for sure that you would be angry at the way I talked to you…"

I struggled to maintain my composure. "Don't make any mistake, Sarah. Your words had their intended effect. I know that you can see that I've been crying, just as clearly as I can tell that you were." It took every ounce of restraint I had not to reach out and touch her, to try and comfort her when her tears welled up again. "You went to the store not just to tell me your brother was sick. You went there, using the words and tone that you did, with the specific intent to hurt me. And it worked."

Sarah looked away, her face stricken. I felt horrible, knowing the effect my words were having on her, but she needed to know the impact hers had had as well. She needed to know that lashing out as she had was not acceptable, nor was it going to be tolerated.

"I'm sorry if I have said or done anything over the past two months…or the past two years for that matter…that would give you the impression that you and your brother are not the most important things in the world to me. I have tried to be there, with you and for you, in every way I could, both before the divorce and after." My throat felt tight as I battled my tears, and I watched a large tear fall on Sarah's clasped hands. "I love you and your brother more than you can possibly know. Believe it or don't," I paused for a moment, to give my words their intended impact, "But don't ever accuse me of not caring like you did tonight."

I studied her as she sat with her head bowed. I reached over and placed my hand over hers, grateful that she didn't pull away as I feared she would. "Do you want to talk about it?" I asked softly. She shook her head. "You know you can talk to me, right?" She nodded. "All right. I'm going to go make some soup. There's more than enough, if you want to join Will and me." Sarah shrugged her shoulders, her face still downcast. I held in the sigh I wanted to release, standing up and crossing the room. "I love you, Sarah," I said softly.

"Love you too, Mom," came her quiet reply. The pain in my chest eased just a little more.

I busied myself in the kitchen, pulling out a pan in which to heat the soup and retrieving a crusty loaf of bread to have with dinner. Spying Will's cell phone charging on the counter, I remembered my promise to Edward, and fished my own phone out of the front pocket of my purse.

There was already a text waiting for me, sent about fifteen minutes ago.

Just checking to make sure everything is ok at home? Please let me know.

I quickly typed my response.

All is well with the kids, thanks for asking.

His response was almost instantaneous, as though he had been waiting to hear from me. The thought that he was concerned warmed me.

Good to hear. Is Mom okay as well?

I smiled, remembering the way he held me, the way he reassured me when I was falling apart earlier tonight.

Thanks to the help of a friend, Mom's ok, too. Thanks again, Edward.

His response made my smile grow wider.

Any time, pretty girl, any time.

Given the myriad ways I was coming to depend on this man in my life, he may very well learn to regret the offer, but I couldn't help but hope he meant it as wholeheartedly as I wanted to believe it.

Okay, Sarah-haters, let me have it! I know she's a very unpopular character, and even though I wish I could make things better for both her and Bella, this is the way it is right now. I hope maybe she redeemed herself in your eyes a little at the end?

So, if something made you smile, laugh, or growl in frustration, let me know. Each one of your comments are absolutely precious to me. Special thanks to my loyal readers and reviewers - you guys know who you are, and I love you guys hard! I do respond to each and every review... and this time around, a little teaser for Chapter 11 will be sent to all who review Chapter 10 :)