A/N: Again, my apologies for this ridiculously delayed update. Writers' block is never fun, and it surely ain't fun when trying to write the last chapter. Yeah, this is the last chapter. You know me, I don't like stories that are over-stretched, and I do believe this story got to the place I wanted it to get after making a full circle. There's gonna be an epilogue, so don't go anywhere, give me a few more days to complete it. This story has made a long way, longer than I intended it to take, I think. Hell, 24 chapters is a mini-epic, as far as I'm concerned. I wanna thank those who read my story, and give special thanks to those of you who took time to review it as well. Mucho love to all of you, guys, stay tuned for the epilogue!

24- Now I Know

Although she was wide-awake, she didn't open her eyes just yet. She just laid there and enjoyed the warmth that surrounded her; the blankets that were wrapped around her, the sun-rays that tickled her face. Slowly, and a bit reluctantly, she opened her eyes. The room was fully lit by the morning sun. As she snuggled lazily into the covered, it dawned on her that she was alone in her bed. A tux laid folded against an armchair in the corner of the room, but its owner was nowhere to be found. And yet, she didn't feel alone, but quite the contrary. A small, happy smile crawled onto her lips. She hadn't felt such serenity in a very long time.

Then out of her blissful daze another thing occurred to her; Holly wasn't around, which was odd. Normally she would have come to wake her up much earlier, that is, if from some reason she hadn't slept in her bed. By the looks of it, it was kind of late in the morning. Mark's watch was on her bedside, so she reached out for it. It read 9:38. Whoa. She definitely overslept. Normally she was up by 7:30 at most, taking Holly out for a long walk around the block before the day started, and then the usual routine of rehearsals, voice teacher and the gym every other day.

Now she sat up, somewhat worried about Holly. The dog was really well-trained and all, but it was over two hours after the usual time they went out for their walk. What if she couldn't hold it for so long? A bit angry with herself, she hoped it wasn't too late to take Holly out.

She took a quick shower and slipped into sweatpants and her old college sweatshirt. By the time she pulled on a pair of sox, the apartment was filled with a rich, tempting scent of vanilla. She smiled to herself as she walked down the hall, wondering what he was up to. It was kind of strange, actually, to even think about waking up to such a scent of cooking in her apartment. For so long, it was just her and her dog. It was really weird to have someone else around, let alone Mark. That was almost surreal.

He was with his back to her, completely occupied in whatever the hell he was doing there by her stove. The table in the dining area between the kitchen and the living-room was set for two, and there were tall glasses filled with what looked like freshly-made orange juice. Holly was sitting on the floor right next to Mark, her head tilted up, that irresistible, pleading expression written all over her face. He was whistling. She realized she had never heard him whistle before. It made her smile.

She coughed softly to draw his attention without startling him. He turned, and the smile she suspected was there widened as he noticed her.

"Good morning," he said, taking something off the stove.

"What are you doing in my kitchen?" she asked, amused. She didn't even know he knew how to cook.

"I'm making breakfast for the new face of Broadway," he replied, nodding towards a paper that laid folded on one of the plates on the table. Taking the hint, she walked over there and took the paper, her eyes running along the title, her heart racing. It was a short article about their opening the other night, an elaborated review, some photos from the after-party, but the title said it all.

She made it.

Mark took the paper from her shaking hand. "Congratulations," he said, smiling, wrapping his arms around her. Unable to say anything, still needing some time to digest it, she gave him a hug.

An angry bark put an abrupt end to their silent moment. She looked down to meet Holly's resentful frown. The dog barked again, and this time it had a wailing-like sound to it. Maybe she did have to go. "Damn. I gotta take her downstairs," she told Mark, almost apologetically.

"No, you don't. We had a long walk earlier. How do you think we got the newspaper?" He smiled and took her hand. "She's okay. She's just hungry." She wondered how he became such an expert in dogs all of a sudden. And as if he could tell it crossed her mind, he laughed. "Holly and me are old friends now, aren't we, Holly?"

Holly barked again, her expression even more pleading.

"We'd better feed this one," said Mark, about to turn back to the stove again.

"Mark, wait," she said, pulling at his arm to hold him in place. He looked at her questionably, and she smiled and kissed him quickly.

"What was that for?" he asked, turning slightly pink.

She shrugged. "Just… because."

She knew he wouldn't even try to argue with that.

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It turned out that the vanilla scent that in the meantime spread all over the apartment was of the French-toast Mark made. He was sitting across from her, and she gave him an incredulous look as she reached for another piece.

"What?" he asked, that sweet smile she liked brightening his face.

"In the last 24 hours you managed to surprise me more than you even did in the long time we knew before."

"See? And you worried it wouldn't be better this time," he said victoriously. She smirked and took a small bite of her toast. "So… any chance I'll get to spend some time with you today?" he asked kind of hesitantly.

She considered it. She did have a meeting with her voice teacher that afternoon. She had nothing scheduled for that morning; Leila figured she'd be worn out from the previous day's opening. She nodded. "Yeah. I think that's manageable."

"Great," he smiled, sipping his orange juice. Then he seemed to remember something, for he put his glass down. "Someone called you earlier. I didn't want to wake you, you looked so tired."

"Who was it?" It could have been Leila, maybe her voice teacher was calling to cancel that afternoon's class, or one of her colleagues from the theater. She surely wasn't ready for what he said next.

"Your brother, Anthony."

She looked at him incredulously. "You're kidding, right?"

"Not a bit."

"What did he want?"

"To congratulate you about the show, I guess. He probably saw that review in the newspaper."

"I didn't even know he knew my number," she said. The last time they had any kind of contact was when he called her to invite her to his wedding. She had no idea how he managed to locate her then as well; she was on the road with the Cabaret tour, more or less at the same time she had to take over the lead when Melody took ill. She couldn't attend the wedding. She didn't think he was offended; she was sure he didn't really mean to invite her, only their parents probably thought it would look bad for the family image not to have her there, but she could care less. She wished him happiness, and they hung up with an unbinding promise to stay in touch. That had never happened.

"Well, he does," Mark replied. "He left his number, in case you wanted to call him back. I wrote it on the pad by the phone."

"Thanks," she said, sipping her juice distracted.

There was a short pause, after which Mark asked, kind of hesitantly, "You are going to call him back, aren't you?"

"I might," she said vaguely, with no real intention to do so.

"Look, Maureen, it's none of my business, but I think you should call him back."

"It is none of your business, Mark," she said, not nastily, just stating the plain fact. This was between her and her family. He had nothing to do with it. He never even met them. "Look, I really don't want my day to be ruined over that. Can we just leave this argument for later?"

He looked as if he didn't want to let it go, so she gave him a pleading look and he relented. "What do you wanna do today?"

She smiled. That was more like it. "Well…" she said and got up. She walked over to where he was sitting, and sat on his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I've got some ideas."

"Why don't you share it with the rest of the class, Miss Johnson?" he asked in a low voice, wrapping his arms around her middle, preventing her from falling off.

"I wouldn't mind going back to bed, for once," she said playfully, her lips grazing his left ear. She felt him shudder. "That is, if you don't have to be anywhere…" she looked up at him. He looked pretty distracted, probably because her fingers were caressing the hair at the back of his neck.

"Even if I did, I could do it later," he said, leaning over to kiss her. "I just… gotta make a phone call first…" he murmured, slowly pulling away.

"Go ahead. You know where the phone is. I'll clean up here," she said, getting up, and pulling his arm to help him get up as well. She had a pretty clear idea whom he was going to call, so as he walked over to the phone, followed by Holly, she called after him, "Hit the Speaker when you call 'em, will you?"

Mark turned to give her a look. "What happened to respecting other people's privacy?"

She rolled her eyes. "Honey, I'm in show-business now. There's no such thing as privacy."

He considered it for a moment, but knowing he didn't have a chance, he nodded. "Fair enough."

As she laid the plates in the sink, she heard the dial tone as Mark waited for them to pick up on the other hand. She smiled. Were they still screening? It was funny to think that after all these years-

"Hello?"

She felt silly for the tears that stung in the corners of her eyes when Collins' voice echoed through the walls of her apartment. She grabbed a towel to wipe them off, and leaned against the counter, listening.

"Hey Collins, it's me," Mark said.

"Mark! Finally! Where the hell are you, man? One more hour and Roger would have called 911!"

Mark chuckled. "I'm okay. Sorry, I guess I should have called earlier, but I was kind of-"

"Busy, huh?" Collins completed the unfinished statement in his most teasing tone. "I'll take it that you found her. I'll take it from your voice that you got laid!"

She repressed a smirk. The back of Mark's neck turned red.

"Collins, shut up."

"You're not denying it, which makes me believe I'm right." She could almost picture Collins' smug expression. She missed it so much. "Well, where is Momo? Let me talk to her."

Mark turned to look at her. She shook her head quickly, almost by instinct. She couldn't do this. Not now. She wasn't ready to confront the past so fast. Okay, maybe it was kind of hypocritical, considering she had just spent the night with Mark, but she just couldn't do this.

"Can't, she's in the shower," Mark improvised.

"And you're wasting your time talking to me. Hang up that phone and join her."

"Collins!"

"You'll end up thanking me and you know it, Cohen."

"Whatever. Look, I gotta go."

"That's what I've been trying to tell you. Go, loser, tell her we love her!"

I love you too, she thought silently, slowly washing the few dishes from their breakfast. She didn't even hear him hanging up. She almost dropped the glass she was washing when she felt his arms being wrapped around her.

"You okay?" he whispered in her ear.

Turning off the tap, she turned to look at him. "Yeah, I'm okay." She wasn't sure she could explain what was it she was feeling. She wasn't sure she knew.

"Well, look what I found on the coffee table," Mark said, taking her hand. "It's yours, if you still want it."

She looked at the ring he put in the palm of her hand, then up at him. His expression was hopeful, almost pleading. Did he really think she'd refuse? "Of course I still want it." Then she frowned. "If it still fits."

"I think it is," he smiled, obviously satisfied with her answer. He slid it on one of her fingers. It did fit. He gave her a look. "See?"

There wasn't much she thought of saying, but stating the obvious. "I love you."

He looked as if he wasn't expecting this. Then he snapped out of it. "I love you too."

She didn't reply; she simply took his hand and smiled mysteriously as she led him down the hall and back to her bedroom.

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"I must admit, this is not what I had in mind when you said you wanted to go back to bed," Mark said twenty minutes or so later.

"I know. But isn't it fun though?" she asked smiling. How could he know that what she had in mind was simply cuddling under the warm covers? It did feel nice. He was lying behind her, his arm draped over her middle, his hand holding hers. Holly was snoring, fast asleep somewhere on the bed as well.

"Hmmm…" he said, nuzzling her neck. "So… how is it you didn't want to talk to Collins?"

"I just… thought the first time I'd see them again should be face-to-face. I'm not really good with reunions over the phone. It doesn't seem right."

"They really missed you, you know."

"I know. I missed them too." He gave her hand a little squeeze, on which she reacted by pressing her body closer to his. "So how's your family? Did you tell your mom I'm gonna be the next Streisand on Broadway?"

Mark laughed. "No, I thought I'd better locate you before I say anything to my mom. I probably won't have to say anything now, as she probably read that article."

"Too bad, I could almost picture that phone call. 'Mark, Bubele, how could you not tell us that your pretty girlfriend finally got her chance on Broadway'?" she said in what she believed was a pretty good imitation of Mrs. Cohen's.

Mark laughed. "You're very modest," he said jokingly, pecking her cheek.

"Baby, I'm an actress. I'm not supposed to be modest."

"Oh yeah, I almost forgot."

"So everything's okay at Scarsdale? Your sisters? Nanette Himmelfarb?" she said that last name teasingly, and squeaked in surprise when Mark tickled her side in clear revenge, almost sending her jumping off the bed. "Hey!"

He didn't even bother to apologize. "My sisters are fine. Cindy had another baby 3 years ago. Sophie's still studying, which doesn't please our mom very much. As far as she's concerned, both Sophie and me should have been happily married and settled by now, but I stopped listening to this shit years ago, and Sophie sort of doing the same. She likes the academy. She's the one with the brains in our family."

"What is she studying?"

"Translation. She wants to move to New York City after graduation, so I'm really looking forward to that."

"That's great," she said, but now she was kind of distracted. "Mark, are you sure about this?"

"About what?" he asked, as if he didn't really know what she was talking about all of a sudden.

"This. Us. The article in the paper this morning was just the beginning of it. This is what it's gonna be from now on, and it's gonna get worse. Reporters, gossip columns…" She turned, so she was now lying on her back, facing him. He didn't seem to follow. "I'm just saying… that if you have doubts about this… we'd better cut it off now. Before it's too late."

"I wouldn't have been here if I didn't know it, or if I wouldn't have realized it by now. I would never lead you on that way, you know that."

"Yeah, I do, I just wanted to make sure you-"

She never finished her sentence. He was hovering over her, his lips close to hers. "Shh… no talking…" he murmured. Their lips touched. For once, she thought she'd better just do as she was told.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

She saw the flowers when she walked into her room during the intermission; a dozen or so red roses, wrapped in cellophane, rested on her makeup table. She spotted the small envelope that was attached to it and opened it, taking out a small note. I'm coming to pick you up for dinner. Meet you at the stage-door after the show. Love, M. She smiled. She'd better go and tell Adam she was expecting him, or he wouldn't let him step in this time as well.

She changed and fixed her makeup, then slipped into her shoes and went out to the hall to find Adam.

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Adam sent Mark to wait for her in the car. He sort of figured it all out by now, so she thought it was only fair to fill in the missing gaps for him. From the little he managed to realize by himself, he figured it would best for Mark to wait away from the flashes of the cameras, so whatever was going on between them, they could still have some privacy. It was a small gesture, but she appreciated it greatly.

There was a commotion at the stage-door, but not as it was the night before. She got into the car fairly quick, and George took off the moment she was safely in. She kissed Mark quickly, kind of embarrassed to do this in the presence of her driver. It was still sort of new in itself.

"How was tonight?" Mark asked, giving her hand a squeeze that was out of George's sight.

"Pretty good, I think. We had great audience. The flowers are gorgeous, Mark, thanks," she said more quietly, in a small smile that meant just for him.

"You're welcome."

"Where are we going? I hope what I'm wearing is okay," she said hesitantly, looking down at her worn-out leather jacket. "You didn't say anything about dinner before and I wasn't-"

"What you're wearing is perfect, don't worry about it," he assured her.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked as the car made its way in the streets of New York. This was definitely not the way to her apartment, or uptown. She looked at Mark questionably.

"You'll see."

She began to have a pretty clear idea as for what was going on when George stopped the car and turned to look at them. "Here we are. The Life Café. Enjoy your evening."

"Thanks, George," she said, hoping the shiver in her voice wasn't as audible as she suspected. She stepped out of the car, and just stared at the café across the street. She didn't even notice when George and the car were gone. She just stood there, taking in the once-familiar surroundings. She couldn't believe it's been so long since she had last been there. It looked just like the last time she saw it.

Mark took her hand in his, shaking her from her reverie. "I figured that shock therapy was what you needed."

"Are they…" she started to ask, but something in his eyes answered her question already. They were there. For a moment, she was a bit angry with Mark making this decision for her, but then she stopped herself. What was she doing? Those were her friends, the closest thing to a family she ever had. And she missed them. Shock therapy was what she needed. She answered the silent question in Mark's eyes with a simple nod, and together, hands still joined, they crossed the street.

He opened the door for her, and she slowly walked in. No one seemed to notice their entry. The place was as packed as she remembered, even though it wasn't the weekend. She recognized none of the staff. There was music in the background, but she hardly heard it as she followed Mark somewhere at the back of the café.

They sat with their backs to the entrance, but as if they could feel them approaching, they turned as one. Her eyes filled with tears in spite of herself. Slowly, without even realizing it, she let go of Mark's hand, and stepped forward, straight into Collins' outstretched arms.

"Oh my God, girl, look at you! You look stunning! Not that I expected any less from you, but still!"

"Easy, Collins, she just got here," said Roger, and took her in his arms the moment Collins let go. He had the same smell, she thought. That masculine, irresistible scent she always associated with Roger. "Good to see you, Momo."

She couldn't speak. She just couldn't. Tears choked her throat, making speech completely impossible. She buried her face in his jacket so they wouldn't see her cry. Roger didn't say anything about it, just rubbed her back, soothingly and discreetly.

Gradually, she calmed down. She looked up at him and finally found her voice again. "I'm so sorry, about Mimi." She wanted to kick herself. She didn't see him for years and the first thing she said just had to be about his dead girlfr... wife. Ugh.

To her surprise, he didn't look that devastated. He nodded. "Yeah. Me too. She would have been so glad to see you again." He looked at her, a goofy grin sending his sadness- and hers- away. "You look amazing."

She blushed. He seemed to notice. "Are you still writing?"

"A bit. Don't have much time for it, unfortunately. You?"

"Same. There were some talking about a solo album at some point, but as things are right now, it's on hold."

He made a face. "Make sure not to include that awful song about the latte boy, eh?"

She pretended to be offended, and hit him playfully on his chest. "That was a good song, Roger!"

"Yeah, whatever!" he laughed, and they all took a seat.

"Hey, where's Joanne?"

She raised her head when she heard Mark's question. That came as a surprise. She wasn't expecting Joanne to show up there, too.

"On her way, or so she was half an hour ago. We kind of hoped she'd get here before you, guys," Collins replied, sipping his beer. "So what are you guys having?"

Considering that the last time she ate was sometime during 1PM, she thought she could use something right now. A salad, maybe. Or maybe she'd go really crazy and have-

"Sorry I'm late, guys, there was this phone call I had to-"

She turned at the sound of the familiar voice, and her eyes met Joanne's. Joanne's voice trailed off, and she let out what definitely was a squeal, so unfitting for the tough-looking business suit she was wearing. It was kind of awkward, thinking back on the day when their relationship ended, the day she left. But it was all behind them now. Besides, Mark wouldn't have been there if it wasn't for Joanne.

She smiled and left her seat, nearly knocking Joanne over with a tight hug. "Hi, Honeybear," she whispered playfully.

Joanne laughed softly, hugging her back. "It's great to see you. I saw the article this morning. Congratulations."

"Thanks."

"Hey, Jo, where's Heather?" Collins asked when they took their seats.

Joanne sat next to Roger, across from her and Mark. "She couldn't make it."

"Who's Heather?" she asked.

"That's Jo's girlfriend," said Roger. As her gaze fell on his hands, she suddenly noticed the golden wedding-band on his finger, a bitter-sweet remainder of the girl he loved. "Or shall I say, Jo's new Honeybear?"

She stopped herself from sticking her tongue at him. Luckily, this was the moment the waitress chose to show up. After much difficulty, they gave her their order, and she disappeared among the crowd again.

She leaned back in her seat, letting her gaze wander from Collins to Roger to Joanne. It felt so amazing just being there again with them, as if she never left. But she did leave. It felt as if so much happened since she did. She wasn't part of their lives for a long time, and they weren't part of hers.

She toyed with the idea for a moment. The ultimate, inevitable 'what if'. The million dollar question. What would have happened if she never left? But then she realized she couldn't have known, she could never know. She had no regrets. This was what she always wanted, what she was meant to be. No, absolutely no regrets. Only now, sitting there at the Life, surrounded by those people she loved, the doubts of the previous day began to fade, the emptiness she felt a bit over 24 hours ago was slowly beginning to fill.

A smile slowly curled on her lips; a satisfied, confident, optimistic smile.

Sure, life wasn't perfect.

But it was getting there.