Happy 2011 everyone! I hope everyone is having a great new year. I wanted to give you all a chapter for the beginning of 2011. I'm finishing up the story, but I said that earlier so...we'll see. I hope you still like it! Read, review, subscribe, favorite! Also, if you love the A-Team movie, I have another fanfiction I am writing. Check it out! Happy new year!

DG

I was sitting at Ashley's kitchen table, shuffling through invitation samples. It was two weeks after I had gotten home from the hospital. Ashley and James were already planning their wedding, much to my dismay.

"So…" Ashley brought me a glass of red wine. "I know you were probably expecting this, but will you be my maid of honor?"

"Oh, Ashley," I sighed. "Of course I will," I smiled.

She grinned, "Great."

My phone rang at that moment. I picked it up. I had had to add Detective Burns' number to my phone after he acquired my cell. He called almost every day, sometimes more than once. It was getting to be a hassle. So it didn't surprise me when I saw the contact was him. I put it back in my pocket, "Sorry."

Ashley scowled, "Marilyn, you can't avoid that man forever. He knows where you live."

"Don't be a creep," I laughed. "If it goes too far, I've got 911 and a great lawyer. Who I happen to be sleeping with."

She sat down across from me, "I'm not being a creep. Besides, you should see your parents."

"We're not talking about this right now," I stood up and took my wine with me.

The front door opened. "I'm home," James called from the front.

Ashley stood up quickly, "In the kitchen."

He came in with a serious expression on his face, looking to Ashley and then to me. I took a sip of my wine.

"Nice place," Greg's voice came from the hallway.

I spit out the wine into the sink. Ashley and James looked to each other in worry. I turned back to them, a look of death in my eyes. Greg appeared in the kitchen. He looked to me first and then to James, "Is this supposed to be an intervention or something?"

"I believe it is," I replied.

"No, it's not," James shook his head.

Ashley crossed her arms, "Look, it's only appropriate that the main members of the wedding party help us in our biggest endeavors during this process."

"You could've at least warned me about this," I whispered to Ashley.

She blushed, "Marilyn, you wouldn't have come."

I scoffed, "You're damn right I wouldn't have come."

"What're we doing today?" Greg rolled his eyes.

"Picking out invitations," Ashley gestured to the table.

He pulled out a chair with his cane, "Fabulous."

I stood by the sink, frigid and angry. Ashley touched my shoulder, "Marilyn, please sit."

"Fine," I narrowed my eyes, sitting down with my glass of wine.

Instead of looking at the invitations, I stared at Greg who obviously knew I was looking at him.

James and Ashley stood behind their respective friend. "I like number three," Ashley pointed out.

"I like seven," James said.

"One's good," Greg leaned back, like he was put out by just the thought of weddings.

"Well, I love two," I snapped.

Ashley groaned, "Jesus."

"One clearly weighs more because of the double mounting. You'll save on postage with two," I reasoned.

"Okay," Greg sighed.

"And one also has poor placement of embossing," I continued on.

Greg raised an eyebrow, "Embossing can go anywhere on the invitation."

"It's bad presentation. If they wanted the embossing anywhere they should've gotten rid of the embossment and put a note at the bottom, with an asterisk, that said you could include embossment," I spat out a mouthful of words. "So, basically one sucks," I shrugged.

James looked to Ashley with wide eyes, "Let's go with three. Three's good."

"Three is great," Ashley swallowed.

These weird conversations continued for about another hour until there was a knock at the front door. Ashley went to answer it. I heard her say, "Hey, Charlie."

He replied, "Hey, is Marilyn here."

"Yes, but-"

"Marilyn," he called to me, coming into the kitchen. He stopped in his tracks looking at Greg.

I rose from my chair, "Hey, how was work?" We met in the doorway. I boldly kissed him on the lips.

"You okay?" he murmured in my ear.

"I've been better," I smirked.

Greg stood up, "I hate to break this love fest up, but I need to get through the door so…" He made his way in between us and walked toward the bathroom by the staircase leading to the second floor.

"What's going on?" Charlie looked to Ashley and James.

They were both quiet. I said with bitterness, "Well, they think that I being the maid of honor and Greg being the best man that we should hang out. Get to know one another, have some wine, maybe chat over coffee. You know. Stuff exes do together."

Ashley stuttered, "Well-we were-um… I don't think it's that big of a deal."

"You can't hold a grudge. It's stupid. I mean you're not dating anymore. It's over," James sighed.

"No, it's not just over," Charlie spoke for me. "You can't expect that."

Greg limped out of the bathroom, looking to Ashley and James and then to Charlie and me. "What's up?" he crossed his arms.

"Mommy!" Rosie called form the basement.

I could hear her running up the steps. I turned white, reaching for Charlie's hand, but missing. "Yes, Rosie?" I went to the doorway to try and meet her.

Rosie looked up at me and then around me. Her eyes brightened. She jumped, "Daddy! Daddy!" She ran up to him, threw his arms around him.

He had a large grin on his face, "Hey, kid."

"Rosie," I called to her. "May I speak to you over here?"

"I missed you!" she yelped, hugging him.

Greg paused, "Your mother wants you."

"Did you hear Aunt Ashley and Jimmy are getting married?" she screeched. "Isn't that cool?"

"Rosie…" I growled.

"Rosie, you should go to your mother," he told her.

But she continued on, "I'm going to be a flower girl with Violet. I'm really excited."

I turned and shouted, "Rosalie!"

Finally, she looked to me, shock in her eyes. I didn't realize how angry, how scary I must've looked to a six year old. However, I was persistent. I pointed to the ground in front of me, "Here, now."

"Why are you yelling at me, mommy?" her eyes were tearing up as she came toward me.

"I'm not yelling," I grimaced. "Go back down stairs."

Rosie gave me a furtive glare and said, "No."

"No? No! You cannot tell me no. I am your mother!"

She crossed her arms, "I am my own person, mother."

Greg tried to intervene, "Rosie, do as your mother says."

"Stay out of this," I iterated.

"Look, I'm just trying to help, Marilyn," he sneered.

"Oh sure, now you want to help. What happened eight months ago when you had to go to rehab because you were addicted to drugs and you wrote us off? Just like that, gone, out of the picture," I stepped around my daughter to send an attack.

He murmured, "It's not that simple."

"Sure," I rolled my eyes.

"This is ridiculous. You are both much better than this," James stepped forward.

Ashley followed in the steps of her fiancé, "Yes, you are. Calm down. We can talk this out."

"Mama, stop yelling at daddy," Rosie stomped her foot behind me.

I went silent, dropping my hands to my sides. The tension was palpable. When I gathered the courage to speak again, I looked up and stared directly in Greg's eyes, "This is all your fault. You're a manipulative son of a bitch and you've destroyed me and my family. I never want to see your face around here again or so help me God, I will come and I will drag you out of here myself."

Greg stood there helpless. His mouth dropped open, trying to formulate words. It finally hit me what I had said in front of my own child, my friends, and my boyfriend. I held my composure and turned walking out the front door. I had lost it completely. I looked to my house, beginning to cross the street. Suddenly, I stopped, seeing a man at the door. He was holding folders and was knocking for the longest amount of time. I realized after a lot of contemplation that it was Burns.

The next day, I was at work, pretending to check inventory, but really just moping. Anthony walked into the stalk room and frowned, "Marilyn, you okay?"

"Fine, Anthony," I smiled.

He came up beside me and sat on a pile of boxes, "Do you need to talk to somebody?"

I stopped pretending to check the inventory, "In all honesty, I've been doing too much talking."

"Is Rosie okay? Charlie? Ashley?" he tried to get an answer out of me.

"It's really a combination of stuff," I folded my hands.

We talked for a long time about my issues and especially about Candy Cane, Anthony's nickname for Greg. He was surprisingly helpful for a single, gay, twenty-four year old. "Somehow, I think they'll all find it in their heart to forgive you," he patted my hands.

"I think I lost my chance with them," I smiled meekly.

The door opened to the stock room again. Greta was standing in the doorway, a large grin on her face. I stood up, "At least someone seems happy. What's up?"

She began to speak, but no words came out. Her face was frozen into a timeless expression of joy. Anthony stood up as well, "Greta?"

"It's official," Greta replied.

I narrowed my eyes, "What's official?"

She bit her lip, "I'm pregnant, guys."

I gasped, "No way!"

"Oh my God!" Anthony clapped his hands together.

We both wrapped our arms around her. We all were crying and laughing. Anthony pulled away, "Time to break out the sparkling cider we save for occasions like this."

Greta laughed, "Yes, finally!"

I had my arm wrapped around her as we went into the staff lounge, "How far along are you?"

"I'm already out of my first trimester," Greta sighed. "I am so happy. You have no idea."

Sitting, I asked, "And did you tell Zack yet?"

She shook her head, "I actually just found out."

"He will be so excited," I beamed, but felt a little pang of jealousy. When I had been pregnant with Rosie, it was such an unhappy time. I was fairly alone with only Ashley to really help me.

Anthony brought over some fake champagne glasses and poured the liquid into them, "So was this like a natural thing?"

Greta shrugged, "Surprisingly. We were going to try IVF next week, but I got lucky."

"To Greta's future baby," I held up my glass.

"Here, here," Anthony replied.

We toasted our glasses and drank.

Ellen came into the room, a reserved look on her face, "Marilyn, there's a man asking for you at the front."

My smile faded, "Excuse me?"

"Ellen, we have great news," Anthony patted Greta's back.

I got up from the table. I wanted to collapse. There was no running anymore. I walked out onto the floor. Buyers were flurrying around except for the man who was standing by the front door, clutching brown folders. When I approached he smiled, "Ms. Lawley, I'm finally glad that I have the chance to talk to you."

"Can we take this business someplace else?" I cleared my throat.

"Where would you like to go?" Burns frowned.

"There's a coffee shop across the street. Let me get my coat and I'll meet you back here," I turned away and walked into the back room. I said nothing to my staff, passing lethargically. This was it. I would find out about what had plagued me all my teenage years. Following Burns outside, I slipped on my coat and shoved my hands in my pockets. The weather was bleak, there was dark February cloud cover and I had a mood to match. We crossed the street and walked into the small coffee shop. He led me to a corner table near the window, pulling out my seat for me.

I pursed my lips, "Thank you."

He gave me a curt nod and sat opposite me, "I'm sorry that it's come to this, but you left me no choice."

"Yes, I did," I murmured.

"Right," Burns said, not paying attention to what I said. "Ms. Lawley, I have learned a lot about you and your family the past six years."

I growled, "I'm sure you have."

"Ms. Lawley, you have not made this investigation easy on me, the least you could do was talk to me," Burns replied in a monotone voice.

"I did. I told you to stay away from me."

"Well, that obviously didn't work and I have a job to do. Your parents want to see you. They want to talk to you. They want to meet their grandchild. I need you to be able to cooperate with me," he folded his hands.

"Fine."

He asked me questions about my life and family. Was I married? How old is your daughter? Who were my closest friends? I was so angry and so annoyed that I could only give him one or two word answers. It was enough that he had come on behalf of my parents, but that he knew I had my daughter added another level to the hatred I felt for him.

"I will leave you now. Thank you for your time," Burns smiled at me.

I nodded, not speaking.

As he rose, he said slowly, "I hope that you will be able to overcome your pride, Ms. Lawley."

"I hope the same of you," I glared.

Burns went out of the coffee shop without another word. I looked into my lap. It was shameful how I behaved, but it was the only way I knew to react to him. In that moment, I realized that I had evolved over the past eight months. I had evolved into a cruel and heartless monster that did not trust anyone or want to put the energy to care for anyone. That killed me. I could only imagine how Rosie had shaped her opinion of me and how she felt when I yelled at her.

I leaned over on the table, my face in my hands, and tears falling from my eyes.

A hand touched my shoulder. I jumped and gasped.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

I looked up to find Greg standing over me.

"Are you alright?" he cleared his throat.

"Uh-yeah…" I pushed the tears from my eyes. "I'm fine."

Greg raised an eyebrow, "No you're not."

"Then why'd you ask?" I replied, resentfully.

He was quiet for a moment, "May I sit?"

I rolled my eyes, "Sure. Sit."

"Thank you," he sat across from me with his cup of coffee. "Why are you crying?"

"Is there a reason that you're here right now?" I sniffled and pulled back from him.

Greg shrugged, "I just wanted to talk. Now please…"

"There's just a lot going on in my life. That's all," I stated.

"Okay," he nodded.

I started to feel bad, realizing that I had already forgotten my earlier revelation, "Look, I have to apologize for what I said to you the other day. That was so rude and I'm sorry."

"No, I understand. I'd probably want to threaten me if I were in your position too," Greg reasoned.

I couldn't help but laugh quietly, "Well, I wanted to clear my conscience."

He smirked, "You would want to."

"How have you been?" I asked, trying to disregard my past feelings about him.

His face softened, "I've been fine. How about you?"

Biting the inside of my cheek, I said honestly, "I've been better."

He raised an eyebrow, "Really?"

"Yes, I have," I smiled delicately.

"Can I get you a coffee and we can talk about it?" he gave me a concerned look.

I thought this over carefully. If I were to say yes, I could be screwing up a part of my life, letting in something that had given me so much pain. However, I was turning a new page in my life. I wanted to be seen as the person I once was, a kind and loving person, girlfriend, and mother. "Yes, you can," I blushed.