I was going to wait until this story is finished to post but since my free time was scattered, that wish did not come true. So, since Jatzygirl can't hold her breath any longer, here comes the weekly updates (at least I hope I get to do that and not run out of chapters).

Just to clarify: we are still in the year 2016, which is also when that Christmas outtake happened (December 2016).

A reminder: we are currently in August, 2016

Thank you for all the reviews!

Another Troubled Kid

Technically, Anastasia wasn't allowed to shower but since she had already done it just after a month of recovery, she thought if it didn't get infected then when Christian literally used up the entire pack of cotton buds to make sure the wound was dry, and then another pack to disinfect it, she believed that it wouldn't happen this time either.

But, boy was she wrong.

"Christian, there's water coming out of it," she shoved her breast in his face, though she was intended to show him the wound.

"Are you the doctor or am I? With the way you charge at me panicking, I sincerely doubt your actual profession," he peered up through his thick lashes and leaned closer to give her nipple a teasing lick.

Just because she offered and it was right in front of his face.

"Christian!" She gasped, swatting his head away on instinct, but she was very turned on by that simple lick on her tit.

"It's pebbled," he smirked smugly.

"Stop lusting over my tits! Jesus, Christian."

"I warned you about showering and your stubborn ass didn't listen."

"It didn't happen in the hospital this morning."

"Why did you shower twice?"

"Just wanna scrub off the germs from the hospital."

"You and your mysophobia."

"I don't have that!" She protested loudly, stomping her foot.

Christian chortled. At least, she was comfortable with him to let her guards down and rely on him, even if it appeared clingy and coquettish; but, he loved it. He was enjoying the attention.

"Yeah, right," he snorted as he took out another cotton bud and dipped in the antiseptic. "We're running out of this thing," he told her as he tilted the small bottle to soak up the last bit of povidone iodine.

"That's because you use half a bottle each time. It was new this morning."

"I don't! I swear there was only half a bottle left when I got it this morning. Where do I buy them? Are they prescribed medicine?"

"No. They're the over-the-counter type. You really gotta use less of them. Seriously, there's no need for you to use two packs of those cotton swabs and an entire bottle of iodopovidone."

"You can't tell me what to do since you're a doctor and nurses clean wounds," he argued petulantly, throwing what she said two years ago in her face, though in a joking manner.

"You sure can hold a grudge, Mr Grey," she jested. "But, I was referring to injection not wound cleansing."

He shuddered at the idea of a needle, and he felt he could throw up all over her naked front if he continued down his line of thought.

"Hey, snap out of it!" She tapped his temple lightly to get his attention. She could sense that he was going down a different path and his actions had only proved that he was very much distracted.

"Sorry," he muttered as he gave her newly dressed wound a once over before capping everything and throwing away the rest.

He had been very unlike the Christian Grey she once knew and she wondered if she should ask him if he felt obliged to take care of her or if he had fired Gail since she hadn't stopped over once to tidy up after him.

"Are you coming to bed?" She climbed under the covers assisting him as he tucked her in after helping her into one of his t-shirts.

"Soon, I have to return that phone call to that detective," he kissed her cheeks and lastly, her forehead. However, she wanted a proper kiss on the lips. After all, that playful lick on his nipple had already crossed that invisible friendship line; it would be very inappropriate if they still remained friends.

That kind of talk would have to leave till tomorrow after the interview. She insisted that way because she believed that it was some kind of official closure to the whole incident since the beginning of the year. Also, she didn't want whatever happened to the two of them individually to influence their statements. She believed that if they learned the accounts on both sides, they would alter what they tell the detectives or omit crucial information, and this might negatively impact the whole investigation.

Still, she had no idea what they were actually investigating.

Anastasia didn't know when Christian came to bed last night, but she was woken up by his alarm.

"Why are you getting up so early?" She groaned, turning around to face him so she could cling onto him and bury her face in his chest as if it could block out the blaring alarm.

"We have to get up early because we are going to give our statements to the detectives this morning."

"Morning? Why? That's too early."

"I recall someone saying that they want to get this over with as soon as possible?"

"Whoever that is, fuck them. What a bitch. They're out of their mind. What time is it anyway?"

"Eight."

"This is too early for a non-workday."

"You get up around this time during the weekends, too."

"I used to. That was before I started taking those damn pain meds."

"Why?"

"They're making me groggy."

"Bullshit!" Christian barked out a laugh. He knew firsthand what the pills were doing to her. "You stopped taking those pills."

"Withdrawals, then."

"Okay, get up, baby. You aren't fooling me. Do you want me to serve you breakfast in bed, feed you and then dress you?"

"That sounds perfect," she said dreamily.

He snickered. "Fine, don't go back to sleep! I'll go shower and make us food."

She hummed and hugged on his pillow, falling right back to sleep.

Christian laughed softly at her, shaking his head as he left for his shower, then to the kitchen.

…

In the meantime, a police car came to a halt in front of Elena's house. The house no longer appeared like a resident place for a Seattle socialite, much less a family home for a mother-son duo.

If anything, it looked abandoned.

"Isaac Lincoln?" The police rang the doorbell and pounded his fist on the door as he yelled.

There was no response.

He rounded to the side of the house and peaked through the windows, but there was nothing he could see because the blinds were drawn. Though, from what he could gather from a few sightings through the cracks, he could deduce that the house was empty.

"Isaac?" He tried again at the front door.

Again, there was no sound.

He reached for the doorknob and twisted it. He anticipated it to be locked, but it wasn't. That was when he realized that whoever left this place last had left in a hurry because it actually wasn't closed properly.

The back door had been left ajar and there were windows left open, the only reason the front door didn't open when he pounded on it was because it was slightly stuck as a result from being forced shut by a strong gust of wind.

He stepped inside. It didn't smell like a house that had been abandoned—the air was fresh. That was because the windows and the door were actually left open.

After he surveyed the entire house and made sure that it was empty with no trace of human habitation in at least the past few days, he walked back to his car and radioed back a brief report. If it was up to him, he would call for backup and have the house searched. They had the warrant for a few days now but it was never executed for some reasons unknown to him.

…

Isaac limped down the slope of the jet bridge trying to blend in with the rest of the passenger and appeared like a normal teen coming over to visit a friend.

He had only left this place about an year ago, and he could still remember the excitement he felt when he boarded the plane with Elena heading to his new home. They were flying first-class.

Hence, he did the same when he booked the ticket back to this place. He flew first-class back and he would like to think of this as the last time he travelled out of this city. It didn't matter that this plane ticket had cost more than he had spent in the past year that he was in Seattle, because it wasn't his money. He took Elena's card.

It wasn't lost on him that he had left in a rush that morning when he realized that it was just him in the house with no sight of his Mistress. He couldn't be more delighted at that discovery and immediately took whatever that he could take with him and left the place.

On his way, people stared at him because he was limping, staggering and limping with as many bags as he could carry with his scrawny frame. He barely looked fifteen but he was actually legally able to obtain a driver's license.

There was no one in Michigan that he knew of could help him but at least he had money, but with only a passport that was going to expire within a month. Though, for now, he thought Detroit was a good place to start over. He could go back to the Colliers and seek their help.

He still had no idea what happened to Elena or where she was that morning but in the fear of running right into her as he left the house with her stuff, he never looked back as he rushed into a cab and ran off to the airport. He didn't even bother to leave a note or anything, and he was sure if Elena ever found him, he'd be in more trouble than he could ever be in.

He knew that Detroit wasn't going to be far enough if Elena would trace him through her bank records and that fake account he used to have with Jack. It disappeared since the last time Elena met with Jack and he doubted that she had found out about that account for a minute, but she didn't. Still, he didn't have any time to take cash out or even stop at an ATM. Simply because he didn't know Elena's password, he was only able to buy the ticket because it was saved in her computer.

Now that he was in Detroit, he couldn't even remember the address of the Colliers. He used to be so accustomed to the city and every streets around the foster homes, he never had to memorize the address of those houses.

However, as he glanced around him and read the signs on the airport exit, he couldn't recognize any of them and he had only been away for a year. It only proved that it had been a year too long. He had no means of communication, only money and a passport that had his last name as Lincoln. He knew that today was the Fourth of July and he knew that there would be a firework show near the Collier's house. He could see them in their garden because it was very far away.

For now, he thought he could just go to a hotel first and actually rest a little to gather his thoughts.

He walked around near the airport and decided to try his luck with a cab to take him to the city center. He had hoped that he would be able to figure out his next step there.

Luckily for him, the cab that he took accepted the debit card that he didn't realize he had. Since he used her credit card to purchase his plane ticket. However, as he sat in the cab he started to consider the next problem at hand. He was only sixteen years old, and was allowed to fly alone but he wasn't sure if he was allowed to rent a hotel room.

After he thanked the taxi driver, he took off to the fanciest hotel that he could see in sight. He was in the city center anyway, so everything should be around. He didn't bother trying to figure out where he actually was and which direction would be the Collier's house, he just needed to get the luggages he was carrying sorted.

"I'm sorry, sir, the minimum age of booking a hotel reservation in the city of Detroit is seventeen," the manager behind the counter told him as he handed the passport back to the young boy who didn't even look the age of fifteen.

He huffed and walked away from the hotel lobby. When he turned back one last time to glance at the manager who was now talking with the woman behind the receptionist counter, he only prayed that they didn't call the authority to report his suspicious behavior. They had turned him away but he didn't need them to feign concern over his disheveled appearance.

He was richer than they think but he wasn't sure that people in a hotel as prestigious as one with a room that cost four-hundred dollars a night would actually allow bribery.

Isaac never really trusted anyone but he really didn't have any reason to not trust the authority at the moment. However, perhaps turning to the police at the moment may be his best choice if he couldn't find a hotel that could accept him or his money.

Fortunately, he did. That was how he was able to settle in a motel with a more than decent hygiene rating.

As he dug through the luggages that he had carried with himself all the way from Seattle, he realized that he had brought a shitload of crap, and he really needed to get rid of stuff and probably upgrade whatever he could while Elena's debit card still worked. Her credit card was already useless in his possession right now since he didn't know the pin; but, he didn't need the password to use her debit card in small amounts.

That was four weeks ago, though.

…

Two weeks later, he found himself wondering down the busy streets of the city of Detroit, the place it was leading him to was oddly familiar and he couldn't help but continue down that path. He knew for a fact that he could still use that debit card and he still had money in them because when he checked out and checked back in a few days ago, they told him that he could still make payments with it.

With no physical baggage, he made his way down the block and followed his gut intuition and made a turn around the corner. He found himself in a neighborhood that had brought back memories for him.

They were a little grainy and distant. It must be one of the foster homes that he had been to, though definitely not the Colliers since he only left that place a year ago.

He was starting to get more familiar around the city, starting from the city center. The memories were all starting to flow back to him and when he asked for a map from the front desk one morning, he was finally able to pinpoint some of the places that he was certain he had been to before; some of the names were very familiar to him.

And, he had set out a goal to visit them all. As long as Elena's card still had money and wasn't cancelled, he was probably the richest kid around this town.

When he finally wandered back to the place where the Colliers resided, or still resides, he noticed that nothing much had changed. Nonetheless, it took him an entire month to finally come back to this place that probably held more memorably memories than any other foster homes.

That was when he remembered the man that had promised to help him, the man that had visited him almost twice a week when he was still in that foster home. Now, there was no means to find Jack.

Isaac was getting antsy with each passing day. He had no idea when the bank card would be frozen once it was reported to be missing, or when someone found out that this card had been stolen. He also had no idea how much money he had left since he didn't know the password so he couldn't check. He really needed to find someone who could help and he thought Jack could still lend him a hand.

So, one day, he bulked up the courage and knocked on the front door of the Collier's.

It opened.

When he came face to face with the kind woman that would bake pies for them every once a while, and the woman who had the kindest eyes he could remember before he happily skipped out of this heavenly place into a shit hole that he thought was his safe haven. Sure, he had a much more luxurious life and more money to spend, but that domestic life was literally hell. Worse than having to share his toys with the other brats in this house.

He almost chickened out and swallowed back his request.

"Hi," he choked a little on his own spit out of nervousness.

"Isaac?" Mrs Collier smiled warmly at the boy who only appeared taller but scrawnier. "Oh, come on in, boy."

"No, it's okay," he declined with a smile but it was too forced. "I just want to ask if you are still in contact with Jack."

"Jack Hyde?"

Isaac nodded. He didn't want to tell this woman his troubles because she had done too much for him already, and he knew they were already at the end of their fostering career. He could see that they didn't have as many kids in their household as they used to.

"Yes, I think so. If he hasn't changed it."

"Can I have it? I haven't been in contact with him for a long time and I'd like to get back in touch with him."

"Oh, sure. Do you want to come wait inside while I fetch it?"

"I can just wait by the door," he declined politely, again.

Mrs Collier disappeared and reappeared quickly, handing him a slip of paper.

Isaac thanked her and hurried away, he headed to the address on the paper and knocked on the door in one fluid motion before his mind could even register what he was doing. He really wasn't sure what he was actually doing or what he was going to say to whoever opened to door.

However, it was Jack on the other side.

"What are you doing here?" He asked him before Isaac could get a word out of his mouth. The young boy was immediately taken aback by the harsh tone in his voice.

"Well, hello to you too," Isaac remarked dryly. "I need you to reopen my account. I know you've closed it."

Jack barked out a laugh.

"Oh, kid. Guess I forgot about that," he opened the door wider and invited the young teen in. "You do know that you can't have an account of your own, right?"

"I have to be at least eighteen," he groaned with an eye roll in response. "I knew it," he mumbled under his own breath. "Then, can you check how much does Elena has in her debit card?"

"Elena?" Jack bellowed out in a funny voice. "Boy, do you know where your precious Mistress is?"

Isaac didn't have time to figure out what was wrong with that question because he was really confused with Jack's reaction, and his first reaction was actually fear; fear that Elena was actually in Detroit, and in Jack's house. His brain then stopped processing once he believed that he had deciphered the older man's underlying meaning.

"She's dead!"

Isaac's pale face slowly returned color but it was still frozen in the same expression, with his mouth agape.

"Man, you should've seen your face!" Jack roared with laughter, then turned his focus back to the computer before him.

"What?" Isaac heaved out a long sigh of relief to know that at least he wouldn't get another hiding from that cunt in his life time.

"She's dead! Shot in the head after attempting to murder Grey."

"When?"

"Fourth of July," he hummed lightly and nonchalantly.

"She's dead…" Isaac tested the words in his tongue and he felt relieved. He liked this announcement.

"Do you know what this implies though?"

"No?"

"You left the same day she left the house and murdered the man. Which means, police are coming after you."

Isaac blanched again.

"Don't panic boy," Jack consoled. "I'll help you."

"Do I run?" It was funny how Isaac didn't even stop to ponder why the police would be after him. The first thought he had was that he was in trouble with the authority for being associated with Elena and would be questioned, or arrested, or face whatever penalty. He thought he would be convicted even though he was the victim, but that wasn't how his thought process worked.

"No, because if you do, it'll be too obvious and you're going to leave bread crumbs everywhere. You should stop using her card, though. Just so it makes it hard for people to trace you."

"But the motel still allows me to use that card."

"Of course a motel will let you use it. As long as it's valid and has money inside, motels really don't care who this card belongs to."

Isaac accepted that explanation and waited for Jack to check the debit card balance for him and also to reopen the account for him.

"Your account will have to be connected to mine until you're eighteen," Jack informed him as he pointed out on the screen.

Isaac nodded and thanked him after noting down the necessary information, like Elena's bank card password, which Jack got after some hacking and law breaking.

However, what the teenager didn't know was that Jack packed his shit up and fled this country the moment Isaac was back in the hotel. He was now on his way to somewhere outside of the States, preferably a country where they'd appreciate his talents with computer. He chose his final destination in South Asia, at the Golden Triangle. He was sure that those dealers in Indochina would appreciate his help in making their lives easier. Though, he was going to go through South America first. In case Isaac spilled the beans about him.

Jack fled along with Isaac's so-called bank account, he was only decent enough to not drain Elena's debit card.

What the teenager didn't expect was to find the policemen outside of his hotel room not two days later.

He broke out into cold beads of sweat only to be informed that his attendance was required because he was now considered an orphan, but also Elena's next of kin since he was her only relative.

"Am I going to go back to the system?"

"Unfortunately, yes. A social worker will be with you later."

He followed the police out and never even had the chance to clear the bill with the front desk to ensure that he still had money to use. Then, he remembered that he still had money in another account linked to Jack's.

"Do you know a Jack Hyde, Isaac?" A policeman asked him once they were settled in a police car and speeding down the busy street of the motor city. If he thought he had a plan for his life, they were all shattered the instant the police tracked him down.

"Yes," he answered truthfully, hoping that his honesty would make them release him sooner. He didn't know that he wasn't tracked down because he had been using Elena's card without her presence or consent, or that he had committed some sort of crime even when he didn't; he just thought that if the police came to him, then he must be in trouble.

At least, that was what he always believed.

"Do you know where he is?"

"Here, in Detroit," Isaac replied truthfully. It was true a few days ago when he met with him.

"He wasn't in his house when we went searching for him yesterday. His house doesn't appear to be a place where anyone currently resides in."

"Oh," was all Isaac could say in response. "Then, I really don't know. I'm sorry."

"No, it's okay, kid."

"Why are you looking for him?"

"Do you know about his dealings with Mrs Lincoln? Your adoptive mother."

"She's not my adoptive mother!" Isaac said haughtily. "You call that old cunt my mother? Are you out of your fucking mind? Who fucks their so-called son? Adoptive or not!"

The Detroit police was trying to maintain their neutral stance, but that revelation was just too serious to ignore. This wasn't what they were seeking him for, but it seemed like he was just leading to a greater case.

It was more than clear that this boy needed to return to Seattle. His presence was more than required with this case, other than being Elena's only living relative but more about being her abused victim.

They weren't given much information from the Seattle PD but they were going to send this kid back.

…

"… I didn't have depression. I swear, I didn't want to commit suicide and I was going to use that footstep sound as a distraction to get down and attack her, but I slipped and the stool fell, so my neck ended up in that noose."

Anastasia cringed and winced all throughout his statement. Him recalling the moments before she found him was the worst story she had ever heard, even worse than when she actually saw him in person.

"Taco was the one that made the footstep sound, but I was downstairs reading the letters. I shouldn't have done it and should've just followed our dog, but I didn't know what to expect when I entered the apartment. I just thought something felt off and I was going to go to his bedroom to check on him and then sneak away. Then, Taco started barking. So, I knew something was definitely wrong…" she continued to recount the night that her world nearly came crashing down in front of her.

Christian now knew that what he had witnessed with her falling on top of him with a bullet in her chest and blood just oozing out of her like they were wasted was going to haunt him forever, he could totally relate to what Anastasia had seen. He had read that people who hung themselves didn't have the best facial expression, in fact, they looked really scary and haunting. He thought it already killed him to see her fall from a gunshot, it must be worse to have to remain rational and perform CPR and first aid on her beloved.

However, they both knew that they shouldn't be putting too much thought on the content of each other's statements because the most revealing details would be unveiled to one another later in private, and that would be the more shocking revelation. It would be better to leave their reactions to when they could piece the entire story together.

The FBI detectives left as soon as their statements were given. It was still early in the morning, so Anastasia decided to start questioning Christian and start their long over-due talk.

"Did you ask them to come this early?" That was not what she had wanted to ask but it just invaded her mind and interrupted her thought last minute.

"Yes," he admitted. "I know that you want to talk to me about everything, and we do need to talk but you won't do that until we give out statements."

"You think so, too?"

"No, I don't think that our talk would make those police interviews any different, but I know you think that. So, I asked them to come as early as possible. So, now, nothing is stopping you. Start firing off your questions."

"Do you feel obliged to take care of me?"

"Why do you ask that?"

"Answer me, is that why you asked me to stay with you? Because you think you should pay me back for taking that bullet for you? Or, is that why you've never asked Gail to stop around and you're doing all the domestic work yourself. Cooking, cleaning and also taking care of me."

"What do you want me to say?"

"I just want to know why. Your intentions, so to speak."

"My intentions?"

"I don't know why you're doing what you're doing. I know you claim that you still have feelings for me but I guess… it's me questioning whether those feelings stemmed from the events that played out after you started intense therapy and that very last confrontation with Elena… or still the pure sentiment from before all of the drama."

"You want to know if my feelings for you are some sort of twisted way of expressing my appreciation of what you've done for me and my company in the past seven months?"

She nodded. "Hence I asked, if you felt obliged to return the favor or pay me back, for a lack of a better term, by living with me, staying with me and taking care of me so diligently." She waved her hand around and stared at her lap.

"I don't know how you can feel so insecure when I should be the one to fear that you might want to run away from me after all of the drama that I've encased upon you."

"I guess that's because I'm too emotionally attached to you, or because my attachment was too deep and still is that I don't want to make the same choice that I've made four years ago… I am at the same point that I was four years ago, but we are not."

Anastasia's ramble did nothing to put Christian's jumpy heart at ease, in fact, it only bought it to his throat.

"What are you trying to say?"

"That depends on your answer to my question. I really want the both of us to reflect on the last four years of our lives; together and individually. No pressure, I just want you to be totally honest with me."

That very last sentence brought his constricting heart back to his throat. He felt like he could puke it out any second. It was a different type of anxiety that he was feeling than when he was faced with a needle; completely different. He felt like his life was dependent on what he was about to speak next.

"Christian, just be honest," Anastasia encouraged, but the walls were already starting to close around him.

He could feel himself getting worked up when she hadn't even told him what exactly she would do after he answered. He now knew why she asked him those soul-searching questions, but this claustrophobic anxiety wasn't vanishing like it used to when his rational mind started to take over. It was like it had its own mind and only developed but never de-develop.

He couldn't hear her voice anymore, even when she was nearly in his lap. That was until his entire focus and thought process was interrupted by furs.

He blinked a few times, and finally registered that Taco had jumped on to the couch in between him and Anastasia, successfully separating them.

When the dog had noticed that Christian's breathing had changed and become more even, he extended his front paws to Christian's lap and laid his head down on Christian's stomach, with his hind legs and tail resting in Anastasia's lap.

That was his favorite resting position—laying in between his two favorite people.

Anastasia schooled in her painful expression that was hidden behind Taco's grand torso, and breathed out when he finally removed his ass and his sharp leg joints from digging into her thighs and calves. His tail was a much more comfortable companion compared to his bony legs, despite being covered in fur.

Although, when his tail wagged, she swore there was nothing furry because a slap from that tail hurt like a bitch.

"Are you okay?" She reached over their humongous pet to touch his arm.

"Yeah…" he wasn't given too much time to actually think about how he felt because one of their phone was ringing.

"I think that's your phone," she peered sideways at the rather empty coffee table before the couch that they were curling on, face to face.

He leaned forward, careful of Taco's lazy head, and grabbed both of their phones. None of them voiced their surprise when they found out that their ringing tone never changed in the four years apart. One night, for fun, they changed their regular ringing tones to the same tune, and they both thought the other would change it once the day was over; but none of them did… for four entire years.

Her phone was now buried in Taco's furry stomach, and the dog was so content that he didn't even jump up when one of them shifted slightly to adjust their posture, or leaned around to reach for things. Her phone didn't even fall off of the couch.

"It's Taylor," Christian put the phone on the speaker and laid it on Taco's body, aware of his thick coat that might swallow up the devise.

"Hey Taylor," Anastasia made her presence known.

"Ana," he acknowledged. "I just got a call from my men in the Detroit PD, and he just reported that they are unable to locate Jack Hyde, however they have been able to track down Isaac."

"Isaac's in Michigan?"

"He left the same day Elena was shot."

"Why Detroit?"

"That's where he's from," Christian inputted this time.

"Oh, so what are they going to do?" She continued to question.

"They are going to send him back, and hopefully we can get more information from him regarding the whole incident."

"Okay… wait," Anastasia paused and her entire face fell stern. "Who the fuck dropped their fucking ball, Jason Taylor? Because I swear someone told me there were coverts on Elena. Both from us and the FBI. So, how did the night at Escala happen with no one knowing that she had a fucking gun?"

"Coverts aren't able to enter her salon with her," Taylor explained meekly but that was also a mystery to him.

"Oh, then what about how she got in?" Anastasia snapped.

"The FBI might've interfered."

"Then, did any of you know about Jack Hyde?"

"We didn't, but the FBI claims that they do."

"And, no one thought to intervene?" Anastasia demanded. "Was this supposed to be a bait?"

"We are still communicating with the FBIs."

"Okay, keep us posted, then," Anastasia softened her tone. She had a feeling that the FBI had failed them because they were supposed to use Christian to goad her but that didn't go as planned, and gone out of hand in the end.

Christian visibly flinched at her outburst earlier. Though, with the way she had taken initiative to lead the conversation and yell at staff on his payroll only confirmed Christian's belief that she was now too incorporated into his life that he had to keep her no matter what she said about them.

He just needed her.

At least, he could still prolong the transition period to execute his charm and finally persuade her that his intentions were pure and innocent; just a guy wanting to spend the rest of his life with the love of his life.

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Happy New Year everyone!

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