Disclaimer: All Gilmore Girls content belongs to Amy Sherman-Palladino.

Chapter Thirty: Grinches at Home

Cloves. Ella's father hated cloves, and she always avoided putting them into her holiday pies. But, it was to be a Philadelphia Christmas. And she could put as much clove into her pumpkin pies as she wanted. There was little to no word from her father, and no word directly to her. She heard through Fiona he was spending the holiday with his brother, Ella's least favorite uncle, down in Florida with some friends. The news was fitting, but made Ella want to grimace. Sticky air and packed with tourists. If she didn't like California, she couldn't imagine how much she would hate Florida. The plan had been for her to go back to Stars Hollow to spend the time with Fiona and Adam, but they ended up making arrangements of their own. Adam was flying out to Oregon to be with Noah and his fiancé. Ella had been invited, but decided it wasn't worth the expense. Upon hearing she may be left in a house alone, with the prospect of Jess and Ella perhaps visiting, Fiona decided to spend the final two weeks of December visiting her sister.

It was strange; freeing, but strange. Not having to go home for Christmas felt almost too adult. Even after moving to Lane's, she would at least make an appearance at the family dinner. And, of course, there was her Aunt Julie. But they usually spent Thanksgiving in Connecticut and Christmas visiting her husband's family in Ohio. Liz and Luke, too, had already planned to spend Thanksgiving together in Stars Hollow. Jess was off the hook, as he put it. Literally no one was left. No one, and no obligation. And a whole month off for winter break from UPenn.

Without pay from being a teacher's assistant, Ella had begun creating more art to sell at Truncheon, as well as working a few shifts at the flower shop down the street each week. It wasn't hard work, but the sight of poinsettias would never be the same. Days off were spent anxiously crafting gifts, drawing, and baking.

Truncheon was set to close for the week of Christmas and New Year's, then begin 2006 with a whole list of one-woman and one-man shows. Ella didn't have to ask to know the business was doing decently (though maybe the feeling was exaggerated for her, since she had spent the past two years living on a couch with little more than a car full of junk to her name), not even considering how she'd sold all of the sketches Jess had hung up for the Open House and then some. Except the Hudson River. That one would permanently remain 'Not For Sale.'

Jess sat at the counter, reading as usual, on the afternoon of Christmas Eve. Chris, Matthew, and Chris's boyfriend Leo were out shopping together, gathering cheap, last-minute presents. None of them were religious in any way. Mostly, they were 'celebrating' Christmas for the food. When Ella realized she had no place she was required to be, she had debated skipping everything. Just hanging out with Jess and ignoring the fanfare around her. But she decided she could deal with the organized religion bullshit for a day if it meant giving Jess the gift she had spent a month making.

The thought of it made her bite her cheek, hiding a smile. She stirred various spices in with the puree of pumpkin, liquidy from the condensed milk she'd added. The smell of it gave her a warm feeling, which was almost out of place. The baking, she always enjoyed. But actual excitement for a holiday? She hadn't experienced that so purely since before her mother died. Instead, she found herself dreading the family obligations and awkward reunions. And eventually retreating to Luke's to commiserate. Having Jess there had just been an added bonus to the general Scrooge attitude of the diner staff.

Ella came around the counter with the soupy orange filling on her spoon, giving it a taste before holding it out to Jess. She thought it might need more cinnamon, but also felt she might be too close to the situation. She needed an outside tongue's perspective. He looked up from his book at her proximity and rolled his eyes.

"Have you ever considered baking the pie before eating it?" he asked. She'd made him try the apple and pecan filling as well.

"Have you ever considered: bite me?" she retorted flatly, inching the spoon closer to his mouth.

He sighed, shutting his Palahniuk book, borrowed from Ella's collection and covered with their handwriting from high school. Tasting the pie filling, he nodded. Amazing, as it always was. But her perfectionism knew no bounds.

"It's good, Elle. I like the cloves."

"See? The cloves are what make it complete!" she replied in agreement. "My fucking dad never let me add the cloves. Does it need more cinnamon?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Daria," he said emphatically, hoping to convince her, as he shook his head a little. "Just relax. It's just gonna be the five of us. Everyone will love them."

She rolled her eyes, tossing the wooden spoon down on the counter next to them. "You sure you're not just saying that?"

Jess scoffed, bringing his hands to her waist. "I would never."

"Oh, of course not," she replied, feigning agreement with eyebrows raised. She put her arms around his shoulders. "Are you not worried about cooking dinner? How can you not be worried about that?"

"No. Because I've been eating shitty takeout with Chris and Matthew for over a year. Any real food at all is gonna blow their mind," he chuckled. The supplies for the turkey he was making the following day were packed to the brim in the fridge. "Seriously, Stevens. Just relax. We're gonna get to be grinches in the comfort of our own home this year."

His words struck a chord with her. Our own home. Moving into the apartment after the three of them had already lived together for so long, after the three of them had created a business together, she couldn't help feeling like a bit of an interloper. Slowly, very slowly, she was getting comfortable. Playing her records in the mornings, sketching on the couch on her days off, decorating their bedroom with a few of her things. Jess didn't mind. She was the artist. The decor was infinitely better after her intervention. She hadn't felt as though she belonged, actually belonged, in a very long time. In her own home, she was just a reminder of her dead mother. At Lane's, despite how long she had ended up staying there, she was little more than a couch surfer. But, in Philadelphia, she had a place. She had a side of the bed.

Letting a small smile tug at the corners of her lips, she nodded. "That we are, cutie."

He uttered a bashful laugh at the nickname, and she leaned down to kiss him on the lips. They had the place to themselves, and things began to get heated. Ella ended up on Jess's lap, running her hands through his hair as they made out. His hands traveled lower, and she was reminded of hazy afternoons on Luke's couch. When he had first let his fingers slip beneath her skirt. The kitchen timer clicked out the seconds, the smell of apple pie filling the room. Sirens and the other traffic were faint noises in the distance beyond the four walls which enclosed them. Her body lit up with pleasant tingles, warmth in her stomach and her heart. Home. The word echoed in her head once more.

But they were interrupted as Chris, Matthew, and Leo burst through the door, shopping bags nearly spilling from their arms. At the sudden noise of their arrival, Ella pulled away from Jess, their lips breaking apart with a smack! But she didn't bother jumping off his lap. The damage was done; they had definitely seen what was going on.

"Ugh, Jesus, guys!" Chris exclaimed. "Please don't go all From Here to Eternity in the kitchen!"

Ella sighed, hiding her flaming face in Jess's shoulder as his frame shook with laughter. Sure, he was the shy one. But she had always been more sheepish about open PDA. Jess never had a problem with it (Ella remembered well from the days he dated Shane).

"Technically, we're in the living room," Jess argued, cocky. He ran a hand up and down Ella's back as her face heated up against his shoulder.

Matthew scrunched up his nose in disgust. "Same difference."

Finally, Ella lifted her head again. She bit her lip, fighting nervous giggles. Jess smirked at her as she looked back at him. He put the backs of his hands to her flushed cheeks, attempting to cool her down. She swatted him away in annoyance, which only led him to smirk wider, and finally jumped down from his legs. The kitchen timer began to go off. She donned her oven mitts again to get the apple pie out of the oven and put it on the stovetop next to the pecan.

"So, how was contributing to the consumerist Christmas culture?" she asked the three of them as they dumped their bags on the already-cluttered living room coffee table. After a few months in the apartment, she had begun to accept that the communal spaces would never be completely organized. It was no longer Chris's supreme level of slobbery, either, though; they had come to a middle ground.

"Tiring," Leo said shortly, collapsing on the couch.

Ella liked him, thought he was a pretty ideal match for Chris. He was a musician, into a bunch of mellow spiritualism. He balanced out Chris's chaotic tendencies. Not that Ella ever bought into his meditation tactics or ideas about the universe in harmony. But their debates were lively, though not heated, which she always appreciated.

And it was nice to have another artist around. He would often bring his guitar over when staying more than one night. Ella had never heard anything quite like his music before, though there were definitie folk, punk, and rock components. He played solo at clubs and bars, had been on a tour of the east coast when Ella had first arrived. His voice was beautiful, strong and clear. Once or twice, when she heard him doing his acoustic numbers, she found herself blinking back tears. Not that she would ever let any fall.

It made her miss piano, no matter how average she was at it. Leo's passion for music reminded Ella of her mother. Every so often, she found herself wondering how different her mother's life would have been if she had not married Jake Stevens right out of high school, getting pregnant with Noah less than a year later. She could have been playing with a symphony, for all anyone knew. She could still be alive.

"My god, you're such a socialist," Chris chimed in, glancing through the bags to see which ones were not to be seen with Eleanor and Jess's eyes.

They'd spent a little while at the mall, before deciding it was too expensive and moving onto dollar stores. Truncheon was making money, but not nearly enough to start spending when they didn't need to. Rent on a whole building certainly wasn't cheap, after all, no matter how much Ella had begun contributing, which was a sizable amount. But shopping discount stores meant they could buy a pretty good bit of random crap, enough to fill all three of their arms with plastic shopping bags.

"Every time you try to insult me, you end up complimenting me," Ella laughed, pouring the pumpkin mixture into the crust she had prepared earlier. "And I think Matthew might be even more of a socialist than me."

"I'd say we're pretty much at the same level," Matthew said, going to hang his damp coat up by the door, snowflakes glistening on the blue wool. It had been snowing on and off since the day before.

Ella nodded. "Agreed. Are you sure your lady friend isn't gonna be joining us tomorrow? If Jess and I are gonna supply the correct amount of food, we need a correct head count."

Narrowing his eyes at her, Matthew shook his head. At some point, Chris had badgered Mabel's name out of him. He'd still yet to bring his girlfriend over to Truncheon to meet everyone, and they were eager to finally put a face to her name.

"No. She's in Florida with her parents," Matthew said.

"Huh," Ella replied, putting a dirty bowl in the sink. "That's where my dad is. Visiting some old friends with my uncle. Are her parents washed-up retirees too? Seems like Florida's where they all end up."

Jess raised his eyes from his book to glance at Ella. No one in the room could've missed the hostility in her tone. He knew Ella wasn't thrilled to have had to hear about her father's plan through Fiona. Jake had his daughter's number. He simply hadn't called. He hadn't called once.

"No, they're both lawyers," Matthew explained, joining Chris to inspect which bags they needed to stash in their room. "They moved up to Florida from Cuba when Mabel was a baby."

"Ah," Ella said, placing the final pie in the oven. "Well, is she staying with them for New Year's, too? We could have her over then."

"No, she's opening a new play on the 30th," he said absently, handing bags to Chris, who walked them back into the room they shared. "She'll be busy."

Sighing, Ella fiddled with the ends of her loose braid and leaned against the sink. She was eager to meet Mabel, to have another female friend. She loved the men in the apartment, but she missed the kind of companionship she felt with Lane. There was something so beautiful about friendship between women, and Ella was hoping against hope they would get along well. And, besides, the woman sounded fucking awesome. She was an actress, who had just finished playing Blanche Dubois at the local theater. Ella could get behind anyone who had starred in something by Tennessee Williams.

Ella had never met a more private person than Matthew. Not even Jess. Frankly, she was surprised he'd even begun telling them small details about Mabel in recent weeks. She suspected it meant things were getting a bit more serious. It was why she had begun pressing to meet her more and more.

"Fine. I surrender. But this is gonna happen, one way or the other, y'know," Ella told Matthew pointedly.

"Sure it is, Ella," Matthew joked, following Leo into the bedroom to go wrap presents. "Neither of you is allowed in here."

"Whatever, dad," Ella deadpanned, earning a laugh from everyone. Matthew did, in fact, have a pretty strong paternal side. He often acted as a surrogate parent to Chris. Reminding him to clean up, to pay bills. The two had known each other for so long, Ella suspected it just came naturally after a while.

Jess caught Ella tugging at her earring as the two of them were left alone again. "You okay?"

Swallowing dryly, she met his eyes. Since her meltdown around mid-terms, she'd been doing better, keeping her nerves at bay. But, sometimes, it crept up on her how good everything felt. They were wrapping presents, meant for Ella and Jess. She had known them less than a year. She was already getting attached to them, and they her. The semester had gone well, she and Jess were in sync, she was getting along. And it felt too perfect. She was waiting for the other shoe to drop. It made memories flash behind her eyes, made her want to find things wrong so she wouldn't have to wait for them to appear, or be surprised when they did.

She tried to offer him a reassuring smile, and hoped it was convincing. "Yeah, Mariano. You know how much I love the Hallmark holidays."

"Oh, trust me, I do," he mused, nodding, a sardonic expression painted on his face.

. . .

Jess felt shaky, coated with a thin layer of cold sweat, when he woke from his dream. He couldn't remember the specifics, as usual, but knew his mother had been there. Her second husband too. Randy. He had been a huge man, towering over Jess as a child. By the time Liz married him, Jess was almost a teenager. Eleven or twelve, maybe. Randy was the first one he ever dared fighting back against. He remembered the red marks his hands left on Randy's skin, so pale and veiny he was almost translucent, like a ghost. He remembered feeling gratified to see the evidence of his bravery manifested physically on Randy's person, even if Jess had received a black eye of his own. He could almost feel the bruise on his cheek as he awoke, his hand flying to his face defensively.

Once he realized he was awake, his ears ringing, he reached instinctively for Ella. And he furrowed his brows when he saw she wasn't in bed, the covers thrown aside and her pillow, fragrant with traces of lavender shampoo, with an empty indentation. He glanced at the clock in the darkness, finding it was just past three in the morning. They had all been up late, long after the snowstorm had ended, watching Die Hard, and then The Godfather. Both Leo and Chris agreed with Ella about the latter being a Christmas movie, though Jess and Matthew could only shake their heads at the idea. He had probably only been asleep for a couple hours, and he certainly remembered Ella lying next to him, one of her arms draped over his chest. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he got up, padding on socked feet out into the living room.

One of the end table lamps had been switched on, casting the room in a golden glow. He felt himself relax when he saw Ella on the couch, regarding a frame which leaned against the coffee table in front of her. Beside her, there was a small cardboard box. A crease of concentration sat between her brows, he could see, and he wondered what she could be looking at so intently in the middle of the night.

"Eleanor?" he asked.

"Fuck!" she blurted out instantly, jumping slightly and putting a hand to her heart.

Had she still worn her necklace, she would have clutched at the chain. But sometime in college she had stored it away in her jewelry box, deciding she no longer needed a constant reminder of the women who had preceded her, who had first introduced her to grief. Instead, she could carry the memories only inside her mind. Could live without their shadow looming so large. Her face fell at the sight of him, and she sighed. She moved the box next to her over to the coffee table and tucked her feet underneath her.

"Jesus, give a girl some warning." She ran a hand through her hair, biting at the inside of her cheek. He came to sit next to her, and she saw the shine in his brown eyes, the grayish-white pallor of his face. "Did you have one of those dreams?"

He nodded.

"I'm sorry, cutie. I was…" she paused to sigh, then gestured to the picture frame and the box. "I was putting your presents together. Are you okay?"

Running a hand over his mouth, he nodded again. His eyes lingered on the picture frame, which stood only a tiny bit taller than the coffee table. He could see it held a painting, a floral scene with writing behind it. "Yeah. I'm fine. I just...you weren't there when I woke up, so-"

"I'm sorry, Jess," she repeated in earnest, putting an arm around his shoulders and pressing a kiss to his cheek. "I didn't think this would take me so long, but the fucking frame had those weird metal closures and my nails were too short to open them, and then the picture was crooked. I just finished yesterday and it was still drying when you got home, so I couldn't put it in the frame until now."

"Can I see it?" he asked, his voice still tight with panic but curious.

She smiled a little, shrugging. "I guess. I mean, it's been Christmas for about three hours now. We don't have to wait or anything."

Reaching over and grabbing the painting, Ella handed it to him gently. She watched him squint at it for a moment, reading the words behind the image of two figures on a park bench, surrounded by hydrangeas as they read novels side-by-side. Realization crossed his face.

"Is this from my book?" he asked, slightly dumbfounded.

Her grin grew in confirmation. "I was gonna rip out the actual pages and paint on them, but then decided that would be a bit too destructive. I just wasn't feeling Graham Greene enough. But it's the passage about-"

"Washington Square Park," he finished for her, staring down at it and allowing himself to smirk.

"Yeah," she said quietly. "When they read together. I loved that part. It was one of my favorites. So I wanted to…paint it. For you."

Jess uttered a breathy noise, somewhere between a laugh and a scoff of disbelief. "This is amazing, Eleanor."

"I took way too long deciding which part I wanted to do. If I'd started earlier, it would look better, but-"

"Honey, you're a fucking artist," he interrupted softly, shaking his head.

She shrugged lightly. "So are you."

Setting the frame down carefully, Jess put his hand to Ella's cheek and pressed a long, tender kiss to her lips. As he pulled away, he smiled again.

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it, Mariano," she replied, voice raspy and sleepy.

"That scene was about you, y'know," he said, regaining a more even tone in his words. Memories of the dream were quickly fading, replaced with Ella's face. Her freckled skin was free of makeup. Her eyes looked so ethereally beautiful. "Us."

"Hm," she hummed, caressing his cheek with her thumb, his jaw cupped in her hand.

"The way we read to each other. And you came to visit me in Washington Square Park. And then you showed me those hydrangeas in the gazebo," he said shortly, shivers rolling up his spine at her gentle touch.

"I remember." Again, the word rang out in her head. Home.

As her gaze turned less wistful, she turned to grab the box on the coffee table and put it in his lap. "That one's not from me. I know Luke said he was fine just going to Liz's this year, since he and Lorelai broke up and everything, but he still sent this for you."

"Really?" Jess furrowed his brows, taking the package in his hands and handling it as though it were glass. When living with Luke, Christmas had never been a very big deal. Maybe a new pair of socks would come his way. But never anything extravagant. Part of him was expecting to open the box and find some new underwear or something.

Ella placed her hand on the back of his neck delicately, watching him inspect the gift. Though she hadn't opened it, Luke had told her its contents over the phone. And she didn't know entirely how Jess would feel about it, even though he and Luke were on much better terms as of late. Ella still couldn't believe Luke had accepted a check from Jess at Truncheon's Open House, paying him back for everything which had gone on in Stars Hollow. She knew Luke never wanted anything in return. Family was family, he always said.

"You gonna open it? Or are we waiting until next Christmas?" she teased.

He rolled his eyes. "Shut up, Stevens."

Slowly, he ripped the tape and opened it. Inside, a simple silver chain sat on a bed of napkins Jess recognized as belonging to the diner. On it, there was a small circular pendant with an etched pattern. And nothing more. Confusion deepened on his features as he held it up in the dim light, inspecting it. It was clearly old, no longer shiny. Weathered, a dull gray color. He looked to Ella for some sort of explanation, seeing as there was no note inside the small box.

"It was your grandfather's," she said softly, eyeing the object. "Luke just sort of found it the other day when he was cleaning the apartment, I guess. Said you always reminded him and Liz of their dad. And they wanted you to have it."

"Huh." Jess's voice was devoid of most emotion, lilted with bewilderment. "Weird, isn't it?"

"What is?"

"The necklaces. Your grandmother's. My grandfather's. You stop wearing yours and then suddenly I get mine. All seems a little like fate, doesn' it?" he asked, smirk returning.

She scoffed out a laugh. She had just known he would bring it up. "You know I'm never gonna agree with fate. But yeah. Quite the coincidence."

Jess groaned playfully. "You're impossible."

"Right back at ya, James Dean."

He hesitated just a moment before slipping the chain over his neck. Something tugged at his heart, though he wasn't quite sure what. He had never met his grandfather, though he had heard more than enough from Liz about how similar they were. Family was a funny thing. He could think no more on it, couldn't quite transfer his emotions into coherent words. He only knew he wanted to wear it. Felt like he should. He was meant to.

"I don't think Luke meant to have to wear it. I think he just wanted you to have it," Ella said, tilting her head at him. If Jess's relationship to his late grandfather was anything like those he had with Luke or his mother, she thought it was fair to guess 'complicated' could describe it.

"I know," Jess replied, running the pendant in between his fingers once or twice before slipping it beneath his shirt. The metal was cold but not unwelcome as it fell against his chest. "I don't do things I don't wanna do."

She nodded, a fondness gleaming in her eyes. "Okay. Good."

"Hold on," he said abruptly, then went and disappeared into their bedroom for a moment.

Silence filled the room, and Ella marveled at the early-morning calm. There was no Christmas tree, no lights, no decorations. No need for anything besides what they had. But she was suspicious of how content she felt. The streetlights outside cast witchy shadows on the green walls, streaks of light on the worn bohemian rug. A vague scent of cinnamon and popcorn still lingered in the air. Ella glanced back at the kitchen, a vision of drab white tile and slightly outdated, rusty appliances, and she could see the pies, wrapped in tin foil, sitting on the counter. She could hear the hum of the central heating as she leaned back into the couch, which had more than one tattered throw blanket draped over the back. The walls were covered in various posters and fliers, mostly of Truncheon's events. Leo's guitar sat in one corner. Her sketchbook lay half open and flipped upside down on the coffee table, the spot where she had been drawing earlier in the day saved. And it was so comfortable and familiar. Ella felt like she had been there for years.

Jess reemerged with what she immediately saw was a record in his hands, along with a stack of printer paper. "I got my presents. Figured it was time for yours."

She laughed quietly. "Sure, cutie. We're taking turns, huh?"

"This thing of ours is a two-way street," he quipped, sitting back down next to her.

She could recognize the cover of the record before he gave it to her. And an excitement instantly bubbled in her stomach. On it, Stevie Nicks, draped in various shawls, held a dove. Belladonna.

"I know you already have that one. But I'm pretty sure the one you have isn't an original pressing," he said casually.

Her eyebrows shot up immediately and she looked over at him in shock. "You got an original pressing of Bella fucking Donna?!"

Jess shrugged. "Not like I climbed Everest or anything."

"How? I mean...where the fuck did you get this?" she asked, looking back down at it and running her fingertip Stevie Nicks' permed blonde hair.

"I know the guy who works at Top Five Records a few blocks over. He gave me a discount," he replied lightly. He watched genuine joy blossom on her face. The amount of passion she had for music (along with everything else in her life) never ceased to amaze him. "It was a kickass deal. And I couldn't not get it when I saw it had 'Edge of Seventeen.'"

"Why?" she asked.

"That's the song you were humming the day I met you. And then you threatened to stab me because you thought I was robbing Luke's."

"Yes. Yes, I did," she nodded, her voice so full of love Jess had to swallow harshly to quiet the pounding of his heart. She set the record down carefully on the coffee table amid clutter. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he replied, then cast his eyes back down to the papers he had also brought out from where they were stashed under their bed with the other presents. He had been carrying the stack around with him for months, leaving it in his desk drawers, always out of everyone's sight. His face took on an anxious grimace. "This one isn't as good. You've been warned."

She shook her head at him a little. Anything he gave her, she would love. She was sure of it. But a whole new kind of look broke out on her face when she took the papers from him and read the title. Afternoons with Amelia by Jess Mariano. Her smile was knowing and proud and affectionate and so profoundly painless.

"You didn't get to see the other one until after it got published. But, this time, you'll be the first person to read it," he said, his fingers ghosting tenderly over her shoulders in small, circular motions. "It's for you. I already wrote the dedication. Hopefully you won't want your name taken off after you read what a mess it is."

"Okay, Belladonna was good, Jess. But this is the best present I've ever gotten. I get to read the first draft of the next book by my favorite author in the entire fucking world. How killer is that?" she told him sincerely, flipping through the pages. She hadn't known he had even started another story, but this one was already nearly 300 pages. Almost three times as long as The Subsect. The sneaky fuck.

Jess blushed hotly, self-conscious, averting his gaze from hers. But she set the manuscript down next to her record, then took his face gently in her hands. The kiss was slow and heated, as they both smiled against each other. And Ella was slightly breathless when they separated.

"Hey, Merry Christmas, Mariano," she murmured, her voice husky and low.

He snickered. "I don't think I've ever heard you say that so genuinely before."

"Well, I'm multi-faceted," she whispered, a smirk of her own on her lips.

"That's one word for it," he muttered playfully.

She snorted. "Fuck off."

"Never," he shot back with a muted laugh.

Soon, there were only whispered affirmations and sighs of pleasure between them. Afterwards, Jess managed to fall asleep again, his head on Ella's chest. She ran her fingers through his hair as they nestled into the couch, a soft quilt over them. Her body was warm and calm, muscles relaxed. She allowed the nervous pleading of her mind to be shut out, and focused only on the moment surrounding her. Snow once again began to fall heavily outside, a soft pattering against the windows. As Ella's eyelids became heavy and eventually shut, she listened to the sound of Jess's soft snoring, and hoped he would be free of nightmares.

Author's Note: Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you thought! Feedback is greatly appreciated!

shantalchacin: So glad you're enjoying and thank you so much for commenting! I hope you like this chapter as well!