It's been three weeks since Dillon proposed…or I proposed…we haven't really worked out the specifics behind the story yet. He doesn't want to admit that I turned him down (twice), and I don't want him to feel like less of a man because it took me asking to get a yes.

And now, on this unusually hot afternoon, we're sitting in the living room pouring over college paperwork. Dillon keeps shooting me dirty looks because I can't stop humming the latest Secondhand Serenade song. I pretend not to notice while simultaneously pretending to be interested in the course booklet he handed me minutes earlier. Truth be told, I could care less about what classes I'm going to take. School has never been that important to me, and having this child has certainly made it less. However, I know how much this means to Dillon, so I'm going to at least give it the old college try, pun intended, and see if I can make it through at least one semester at PCU.

"What about this intro to film class?" he asks without looking up from the catalogue in his lap. "I took it last year, and Professor Kearns was great. You'd love her. She has amazing taste in films."

"That's your major, not mine," I mutter as I flip to the English section. I've always been mouthy, maybe I can make use of my love of words. "I was actually thinking of taking some writing courses."

"Really?" His voice is cheerful, causing me believe that he approves. "I could see that about you. You love to talk, and you'd have a lot of personal experience to draw from."

I nod, running my finger down the printed list until I come across a class on creative writing for beginners. Jotting the number on a piece of paper, I listen as he goes on and on about a directorial workshop he wants to take. Finally, he takes a breath and realizes that I haven't spoken for quite awhile. "Sorry, I was really on a roll there. What else are you thinking of taking, babe?"

I shrug casually and read off the notes I'd made. "Creative Writing 1001, Introduction to Poetry and Modern Music."

"Sounds like a good start for your first semester. I'm going to take that workshop as well as a screenwriting class and a lit course," he notes before looking up at me. My eyes are closed, my head laying back against the plush velvet pillow on the couch. "You okay?"

"I'm a little bit dizzy," I admit.

"I'm going to go make you something to eat, maybe that will help."

"Okay, nothing with meat in it," I remind him. Meat is the latest thing to make me sick, joining artichokes, bananas, eggs, onions, peppers, pickles, nuts and sweet potatoes on the list of foods banished from our house.

"I remember," he whispers, kissing my forehead on his way to the kitchen. I can hear him banging away in the other room as I allow my mind to wander. Sleep quickly overcomes me, and I'm far gone by the time he returns. Gently, he shakes me awake, setting a grilled cheese sandwich and apple slices in front of me. "Sorry, I didn't want to wake you up, but you should probably eat."

I nod as he helps me sit up. Bleary-eyed, I munch away on the apple slices while he comes back in the room with a cold glass of milk. "Thanks."

"Is it helping?"

I shake my head. "No, I'm still dizzy. Give me a minute, I'm sure it will go away."

"If not, I want you to go to the doctor to get checked out."

"Dillon, I'm sure it's nothing. I'm probably just hungry and tired, like always."

"I'm not taking any risks with you or this baby," he warns.

I smile reassuringly. "I know, me neither. I just don't want to overreact every time I'm not feeling absolutely perfect." I manage to scarf down the entire sandwich and most of the apple. Once the last drop of milk has slid down my throat, the dishes vanish from my lap. A minute later, Dillon is back, perched at the end of the couch with my feet in his laps. Working my feet over, he massages them, generating a deep throaty moan from me. "You have no idea how good that feels."

Whatever he says in response is lost on me as my eyes once again flutter shut. I'm half asleep when I realize that his fingertips have stopped creating their magic, so I force myself to wake up again. "Sorry I keep falling asleep on you."

"It's okay, Lu. You need your sleep. Do you want to go upstairs?"

"No, I want to stay down here with you."

"I'll go up with you."

I smile mischievously. "Okay."

"You're bad."

"I know. You always had a secret thing for the bad girls."

"Georgie wasn't bad."

"And you're saying that I am?" I cry, faking hurt.

"Hardly."

"Well, I wasn't referring to her. I was talking about Sage."

"Sage. I haven't thought about her in awhile. What made you think of her?"

"I saw Georgie last night."

"You saw Georgie last night? You didn't tell me this."

My mind flashes back to the night before when I had run into Dillon's soon-to-be ex-wife at the pharmacy. I'd been out all day shopping with Liz, and she needed to stop by to pick up children's aspirin for Cameron. It seems I always run into her at the most inopportune time. Once again, our chance occurrences only remind me how small Port Charles can really be.

"What are you doing here? Getting another pregnancy test?"

"Yeah, that's it," I retort, trying my best to blow her off. For Dillon's sake, I had promised to try not to pick a fight with the girl. However, her constant insults and disparaging looks were making it increasingly more difficult to do that.

"So, Maxie told me that you're going to marry my husband."

"Yes, that's the plan. Look, Georgie, I know that we were never friends, but do you think we could avoid a public scene just this once?"

"I'm not creating a scene, I just wanted to say congratulations. You're well on your way to your first divorce. See, Dillon has a problem staying faithful. He cheated on me once with Sage and then again with you. You know the old adage, 'Once a cheater, always a cheater?' Well, that fits him to a T."

"My relationship to Dillon is different than the one you shared with him."

"Exactly, yours started out on a lie. You're already used to secrets."

"Actually," I shoot back, "I believe your relationship also started on a lie. Didn't you pretend to be dating him on the first day you met?"

"Th-that was different," she contends.

"You're right, it was different. This time, Dillon was in love with me. I know that this is hard on you. I was in love with Dillon for months when you were still together. But you've moved on, you're with Diego now. Can't you just let us be happy?"

She smiles at me sadly. "You'll never be truly happy with Dillon, Lulu. I will always be the love of his life. I'm glad that you can handle being second best because I never would be able to."

With that, Georgie left, and I eventually found Liz standing in line at the checkout. Even now, I can feel my blood boiling. Most of me is sure that she is just trying to upset me, but a tiny, insecure part of my heart is afraid that she'll end up being right. I know that telling Dillon everything she said will only make him upset. He'll be mad at her for saying those things and angry with me for not revealing it earlier. Instead, I simply decide to lie by omission.

"Nothing, I just saw her outside the pharmacy when we pulled up. She was already gone by the time we got to the door."

"Oh, good," he remarks, obviously relieved. "Speaking of Georgie, I actually have to meet her in a few hours. We're going over the rest of the divorce settlement with Ric Lansing."

I wrinkle my nose at the mention of Ric. "That sounds like no fun at all. Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"It slipped my mind until now," he says. I'm not sure if I believe that, but since I just finished lying, I let it slide. "Truth is, she doesn't really cross my mind much these days." After that comment, I could care less if he is lying or not. With words like those, he can tell me anything he wants to.

"I love you."

"Well, I love you, too, but what brought that on?"

"Just times when you say lines like those, it reminds me how lucky I am to have fallen in love with such an amazing, gorgeous man."

By the time Dillon gets ready to leave, the rain is pouring down. I can hear water beating down on the roof as I lounge in our bed, wrapped only in a chenille blanket. His hair wet from the shower, a towel wrapped around his narrow hips while candlelight dances behind him. I admire his muscular back from behind as he pulls a fitted olive green tee from our dresser. Pulling on khaki shorts, he throws the towel at me so that it falls over my face. I laugh as he collapses on the mattress next to me. Reaching around, I steal one of his socks and hide it under the covers.

"I have your sock! Now you can't leave," I taunt.

"I can just get another pair."

"I don't want you to go."

"You have nothing to worry about," he reassures me.

"I know."

"Do you really know?"

"I know that you love me. That's all that matters," I say, throwing the sock at him.

"I do love you," he mumbles against my lips before kissing me. "And I love you," he echoes in a baby voice, kissing my stomach tenderly. My fingers find their way to his hair as I guide him up for another kiss. A clap of thunder rings out as the lightning ignites across the sky.

"It's really pouring out there. Be careful."

"I will," he promises, kissing me one last time. "I should be home in an hour. I'll call you before I leave to check on you. In the meantime, call me if you need anything."

"Love you."

"Love you, too," he replies with a wave. I listen to him hurry down the stairs and pull the door shut. As soon as he is gone, the house feels eerily empty. The silence is overwhelming as I snuggle underneath the comforter. I figure that if I go to sleep, he'll be home before I know it.

An hour later, I roll over and pull the blanket off my head. The room is still dark, the candle long burnt out. Squinting, I can see the clock blinking, indicating that we lost power at some point. It is pitch black as I reach for my phone, pressing the button to make the screen light up. It's past 10, and Dillon was supposed to be home over two hours ago. Checking my call log, I find that I don't have any missed calls from him. Pushing the button, I wait for speed dial to connect me to him. The line beeps rapidly; the storm must have knocked out the tower.

Great, no power and no phone. I shouldn't be worried, he's probably on his way home or waiting out the storm somewhere. He'll be here soon, I think, trying to convince myself that he'll be home soon. Another bolt of lightning breaks out, lighting the room around me, as I shiver. My phone rings out, playing a familiar tune.

"Baby, where are you?"

"It's Georgie," I hear a voice say, static intermittently breaking up the connection.

"Is Dillon okay?"

"No," her voice crackles. "Look, I'm in an ambulance on the way to General Hospital. There's been an accident."