Title: The Things That You Said

Spoilers for season 9 up to and including "The Advocate".

Disclaimer: I don't own Abby, Carter or the rights to ER. No copyright infringement is intended. The only pleasure I get from writing these chapters is purely psychological.

AN: This is the latest installment in a series of crossover post-eps with KenzieGal's (a/k/a IAS) magnificent "The Long Way" series, which will continue through the remaining five episodes of the season. Look for the companion chapter to the story thread in "Between Worlds", her current post-ep (Chapter 10) to "The Advocate." As mentioned in prior chapters, while the two post-eps are meant to be read in tandem and there is a common thread interwoven through our chapters, our work remains faithful to Carter (hers) and Abby's (mine) points of view. Her chapters won't exactly parallel mine and vice versa.

The song that is used in this chapter comes to us courtesy of Dana Glover. It's called "Thinking Over" and was recommended to me awhile back for consideration in one of my upcoming chapters. It's got to be the "Abby thinking about Carter" song of the year. The whole CD is called "Testimony IAS has used a couple of Dana's other tracks in her post-eps as well. And to think, we get no profit out of any of this.

P.S. I promise to try and kick this delinquency habit.

"You caught me on a good night."

I raise my eyebrows at the woman sitting across from me. "Really? On a Monday?"

Alison nods. "Yeah. Believe it or not." She catches my look and adds. "Seems like I'm constantly running around these days."

I purse my lips together and clasp my cup between my hands to warm them. "Family life will do that to you."

She shrugs and smiles, bringing her own mug up in front of her. "I like it." She takes a sip and sighs, closing her eyes for a moment. "It's nice to get out, though." She peers at me curiously.

"It's good to see you again, Abby."

"You too." I return with a smile. Quiet settles upon us, and I look down into my coffee awkwardly. "Your phone call surprised me." I admit.

Alison laughs. "Should I apologize?"

I bite my lip and shake my head. "No." I take a deep breath and look up at her again. "I've actually been meaning to…" I trail off, smiling weakly at my sponsor.

"Then I guess we're on the same wavelength, aren't we?"

I glance around the cafe. "Something like that."

"Abby."

"Hmm?"

"What's up?"

I stare at her for a moment. "What do you mean?"

She grins with suspicion. "I mean, how are you? It has been awhile…"

I shrug and take a sip of coffee. "Things are good."

"Really?"

I nod. "Really."

She frowns. "Then why…"

"You're the one who called." I point out. "You tell me."

We exchange a look for several seconds, each one of us challenging the other to speak next. Finally, as if on some rehearsed cue, we dissolve into laughter together, rolling our eyes at this strange game we've been known to play.

It's just like old times.

"Ok, ok." Alison sits back in her chair, folding her hands in her lap. Her smile fades, her face taking on a new - albeit familiar - expression, an indication to me that she's about to assume a more direct approach.

I lean forward on the table, bracing myself for her interrogation.

"Last time we spoke, you told me about the guy from work who asked you to be his sponsor."

I knew it.

"John." I add, trying to hide the pleasure that comes with saying his name.

"And how's that going?"

"It's…" I pause. How is his recovery going? How am I doing with my role as his sponsor? His friend? His lover?

"It's going well."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I mean, it was tough at the beginning, you know… But he's done well." I smile. "Very well."

Alison nods, smiling. "I'm glad to hear that. I bet he's grateful for having you around."

I blush a little, lowering my head, looking at the table. "Umm."

"During his recovery."

I flick my fingers across the surface. "Yeah. I think he is."

I know he is. He thanks me every day.

"Actually, he's probably done more for me, than I have for him." I add, glancing up.

Waiting for her reaction.

"I see."

"Yeah."

She raises her eyebrows. "Would you care to… Elaborate?"

I bite my lip. "Do I have to?"

Alison shrugs. "No." She smiles. "But you will."

I sigh, shaking my head and splay my hands on the table top. I do another check around the room as I prepare my confession.

It's about time I told her.

"I started drinking again last year."

A flicker of disappointment flashes across her face. "And?"

I roll my head over my shoulders. "And… He found out."

"Ouch."

I smirk. "Right." I take another deep breath and attempt to change the mood. "Anyways… We're good now."

She gives me a look that I vaguely recognize. "You are?"

I open my mouth, the word "absolutely" dancing at the tip of my tongue, but nothing comes out. I look down briefly, slightly embarrassed.

"I forgot how good you are at this."

She laughs lightly. "It's somewhat of an acquired talent."

I return her smile, but it doesn't stay long. I know she's waiting for more. But I'm not sure how much I want to say.

"Things have gotten… More complicated recently."

"You're still drinking." She offers, making sure I know it's not a question.

"Yes." It's not exactly the truth, but it's not a lie either. I haven't had a sip in over a month. Not since the night Eric disappeared.

Still, I'm not sober.

"And your relationship with John..."

I lock eyes with her, and she gives a small smile when she realizes she's hit the nail on the head.

"He doesn't like the drinking. He's told me so." I shake my head. "I tell him I don't need fixing." I look for a reaction before adding, "I know I need to stop. Not just for him."

Alison considers this for a moment, finally nodding. "How long have you been together?"

I smile and look at my hands. "Officially? Almost a year."

"And unofficially?"

I shrug. "Like I said, it's complicated." I pause thoughtfully for a moment before I reach down, pulling my bag out from under the table.

"Do you want to see a picture?" I ask, suddenly overcome with the urge to show him off.

She sits up eagerly. "Do you have to ask?"

I unzip my purse and begin to shuffle through its contents, pulling out the spiral-bound notebook I have taken to carrying around with me wherever I go. I slip a finger between the pages and slide out a photo, offering it to Alison. I watch as she examines it, trying to read her face. She studies it with careful concentration first, before smiling warmly and flipping it back to me.

"You're a lucky girl."

"Oh, I know." I take the picture and gaze down at it, thinking back to when it was taken. Susan's Christmas party. We're sitting side by side on her couch, his arm wrapped around my shoulders, my hand resting across his thigh. We're both laughing, smiling at each other as we share a tender moment in front of our friends.

Love. How simple we make it look.

"That's a beautiful notebook."

I frown, looking at her. "What?"

"Your notebook." She gestures to the journal sitting in front of me. "Where did you get it?"

I look down at the book and shrug, trying to hide another smile. "It was a gift."

"Doing a little writing?" She asks with an eyebrow of inquisitiveness.

"Yeah."

Alison grins. "Good for you."

I return her expression, sigh and slip the picture back between the pages of the journal, my eyes drifting across the cover for the thousandth time since I first laid eyes on it.

"Abby?"

"Hmm?" I meet her gaze once more.

"It's so nice to see you again."

I smile widely at my friend. The times may have changed, and we may both be at different points in our lives now, but the feeling will always remain the same. That comfort, that support. The idea that there's someone out there who's rooting for me. It's exactly what I need right now.

She beat me to the call. She always has.

"You too."

And he'll beat me home tonight. Just like he always does.

***

I pull my collar up around me as I travel the last half-block to my building. The harsh March wind pushes against me, and I fight to keep my course. It's the damp air that chills me, and I can't wait until I'm at long last inside my warm apartment.

Or, more notably, inside the embrace of the one who's waiting for me.

I take a deep breath and search for the scent of a new season. Spring. In just a few days, we'll mark its coming. Flowers will bloom, trees will bud. We'll open the windows and marvel at how fresh everything smells.

But for now, Mother Nature seems content at squeezing out the last remaining minutes of winter, as the icy breeze voices the old season's reluctance to part without some big send off.

It doesn't realize how much it's worn out its welcome.

It refuses to accept the idea that maybe, just maybe, it's time for a change.

I climb the steps to my building and search my pockets for my keys in an all too familiar ritual. I can almost hear his laughter now, teasing me about my habits, finally pulling out his own set before guiding me inside with a kiss.

It's a routine I've come to miss over the last few weeks. We've been spending more time apart these days… More nights than I care to mention. More recently, it was self-manufactured fate that had kept us away from each other, as I'd scheduled myself for nights while Carter had drawn the day shift time and time again. The cards just hadn't been dealt in our favor lately.

But not tonight. Tonight, I know, we will try to make up for those lonely, confusing, heartbreaking moments of separation. Tonight we will be together again.

I continue my search for my keys, directing my attention to my bag. Pawing through its contents, I pass over the notebook for the third time that day.

Susan caught me writing in it during my lunch break this afternoon. I tried to brush off my jumpiness, telling her I was "writing a letter to a friend". Which wasn't that far from the truth. My excuse seemed to placate her, thankfully, as she got the hint and moved on to a different topic.

I finished my entry later in my shift, just before leaving. Just before he confronted me, and nearly tore me in two.

Just when I'm about to give up and ring my apartment, something shiny catches my eye at the bottom of my bag, and I pull out the keys and quickly unlock the door. I laugh at myself, thinking about how amused he would have been if he'd had to buzz me into my own building.

Sorry, Carter. You're going to have to find something else to chide me about tonight.

Or better yet, let's skip the playful banter and head straight to the bedroom.

Because if you've missed me half as much as I've missed you, it's going to take more than our typical witticism to distract us tonight.

My anticipation grows as I ascend the steps to the second floor and to my apartment. I pause briefly outside the door and lean against it slightly, listening for any sounds of life from within. Knowing Carter, he's likely sprawled out on the couch now reading some medical journal, having had a shower already.

Or maybe he's fallen asleep waiting for me to come home so we can take that shower together.

I look at my watch. Ten after ten.

So what if I have a shift in the morning?

I reach for the knob and twist it, expecting it to give to my thrusts and turn with me. When it doesn't comply with my gesture, I frown.

Maybe he locked the door out of habit.

I pull out my keys again and unlock the door, pushing it open slowly. It swings away from me and thuds a moment later, the sound announcing my arrival home. I look up, hopeful that he'll be standing there, ready to take me into his arms and make love to me.

Instead, I'm greeted by darkness.

I frown and flip on the light beside the doorframe, peering around the apartment in dazed wonder.

The place doesn't look like it's been touched since this morning, when I left for work.

I glance into the kitchen and my suspicions are confirmed. One coffee mug sits in the middle of the table beside a half-read newspaper and an empty milk carton. All signs of untidiness reminiscent of my hasty exit earlier in the day. Had Carter come home and seen that, he would have cleaned up, no questions asked.

Because that's the kind of person he is.

But they're still here, which means he's not.

But… why?

I drop my bag onto the floor and unbutton my jacket slowly, shrugging out of it. I hang it up and stand behind the couch, my mind frantically searching for a reason to explain his absence.

Maybe the ER called him back.

Maybe his Grandmother needed him.

I turn around and look at the answering machine. My heart falls.

Maybe he's not coming home.

I sigh and drag myself into the bedroom, flipping on the lamp beside the bed. I sit down on the edge and lean down, pulling off my boots. My socks come next, followed by my shirt. I grab his Northwestern sweatshirt, a garment I'd been wearing a lot in recent weeks, and pull it over my head. I stand and turn around, looking at the bed.

I can't… I won't crawl into an empty bed. Not tonight.

I wander back into the living room again and make my way into the kitchen. I pick up the mug off the table and dump its contents down the drain before placing it in the sink. The carton lands in the trash, the newspaper set aside for a day when I'm in a more cognitive frame of mind. I swipe the rag across the table once before it too gets tossed into the sink. Opening one of the cupboards, I retrieve a pack of matches and head into the other room once more.

At the door, I flip off the switch, surrounding myself in near darkness. Only the light of the bedroom glows – dimly at that. My hands linger around the doorframe, groping for the locks, turning them with concerted effort. I hesitate briefly with the chain, rolling it around in my fingers for a moment before sliding it to its secure place. I close my eyes for a moment before turning towards the couch.

Striking a single match, I'm able to light the two pillar candles that sit at either end of my coffee table. I put the matchbook down and pad my way over to my CD stereo. I graze my fingers across my albums, perusing the eccentric collection I've accumulated over the last few months. Several of his CD's mingle with mine, and of course, there's the special collection he's romantically dubbed as 'ours'. I linger over a title here, another title there, until I pull out something I don't recognize. Turning the jewel case over, I open it and read the writing on the CD.

"To Make You Feel My Love"

It's the one Carter had made for me and left with the journal and book in my underwear drawer what now seems like ages ago. I smile sadly at the title before closing the case again and returning it to its position among the others, picking up the remote instead.

I turn on the power to the stereo and hit track button on the display, forwarding the CD to the song of my choice. I tap the "Repeat" button once and carry the remote with me to the couch.

Sitting down, I press play on the remote and wait for the soft strains of the track as it begins to filter through the speakers. I turn and retrieve my Burberry blanket from the back of the couch, wrapping it around me as I lie down on the cushions, willing myself to relax and let the lyrics lull me into some contented trance…

I've been searching for reason and I'm running out of time
I can feel that it's the season
Time to make up my mind

I discovered this song about a month ago, the day after our night at the restaurant, the night he didn't propose to me. I had been listening to the radio as I was standing in the shower that morning, trying desperately to wash away the painful memories of the previous evening… Heartache slowly beginning to consume every last marble of hope that had I had stocked on reserve.

Am I ready for forever
Oh God, show me a sign
'Cause if we're to be together
Then it's got to be divine

Something about that song… at that moment… Seemed oddly appropriate.

And I can't really tell ya what I'm gonna do
There are so many thoughts in my head
There are two roads to walk down
And one road to choose
So I'm thinking over the things that you've said
I'm thinking over the things

That morning, as I stood in the shower and listened to the lyrics, I couldn't help but wander back over the course of our conversation that night, and what I'd said to make him ultimately change his mind about our future together.

"I don't know if people ever really change."

Am I ready for forever
Oh God, show me a sign
'Cause if we're to be together
Then it's got to be divine

Did he really want me to change? And if he did… Would I ever be able to mold myself into the woman he wanted me to be?

He wants to marry me, carry me far away
He wants to love me for life
He wants to be with me every morning I awake
He wants to hold me through the night

Would I be willing to change for him, if that's what it took to keep him? And if I was… Would I be happy with myself?

Was I happy with the way I was now?

Easy answer.

No.

Father, which way should I go?
I cannot clearly see
And, oh, I love him so
But only you know if he's the one for me

I stopped by a music store on my way home that evening. I asked about the song, but no one at the store had heard of it. I couldn't remember the name of the song, and I never did catch the name of the vocalist. All I had to go on were the lyrics… And I couldn't shake their message…

And I can't really tell ya what I'm gonna do

There are so many thoughts in my head

The next day, after tossing and turning in an empty bed, I phoned the station on which I'd heard the song. They put me I touch with the disc jockey, and she happily lamented the source and author of the unknown song. She even sent a courier with a copy of the CD, a gracious thank you for being such a faithful listener.

Since then, I've listened to this song several times daily. I've committed the lyrics to memory, the song's soulful melody serenading my internal monologue like a soundtrack to a movie. Fusing itself to my story.

I sigh and pull the blanket up underneath my chin, closing my eyes.


I've been searching for reason and I'm running out of time
I can feel that it's the season
Time to make up my mind

"I show up for work and you act like a completely changed person. And I think that's great, if that's real. The patch, the sponsor…"


"Real?"


"For real, for you. Or is this something that's gonna get thrown out the window the next time something bad happens. Because if you're trying to prove something to me, like some kind of quick fix…"

I thought he wanted me to change. That speech he made in the restaurant… I knew it was for my benefit. He wasn't happy with where we were – where I was. That wasn't a proposal. It was a reason for not proposing.

Or so I'd convinced myself.

I don't like brooding. I don't like being so pessimistic. I hate always looking at the dark side of the situation…

I hate what it does to me.

And even more… I hate what it's done to the people I love.

And yet, I do it.

Because it's the only thing I know I'm good at.

Oh, is this where I wanna be?
Is this where I really am

I really did wake up sick of myself one morning. After sleeping alone for three days, I couldn't stand it any longer.

I knew I had to change. If not for him… Then for me.

I had to prove to myself that I was somehow worth it.

That these two broken hearts could somehow be mended.

That this… the most incredible love I'd ever experienced… Could somehow be salvaged.

Oh, is that what you want for me
Is this where I know I stand

I open my eyes and gaze at the ceiling above my head.

"What do I have to say? What do I have to do to get through to you?"

I don't know, Carter. I really don't know.

He didn't come home tonight. Somewhere… Sometime after we parted ways on the street, something inside him made him change his mind.

Again.

I disappointed him.

Again.

It wasn't enough.

I pull a hand out from under the blanket and wipe away a stray tear. I hear my voice crackle into the empty room.

"I'm sorry, Carter."

I inhale a shuddery breath as more tears surface and spill out over my cheeks. A sob chortles from low within my throat as I work to suppress it

I will not cry.

I won't feel sorry for myself anymore.

"Stop! Stop! Stop with this whole routine, this whole fatalistic, black cloud, nothing good is ever gonna happen routine."

"Damn it!" I yell out into the darkness as I pound my fit into the cushions.

If you're committed to this, then you've got to do it completely. The drinking and the smoking… That's only the beginning. There's no such thing as appearances.

I roll over onto my side, dragging the blanket with me. The track filters out for the second time, and I listen as it spins and begins to play. I close my eyes again, trying to calm my breathing.

Abby… You know he sees right through those facades.

And you know you wouldn't have it any other way. That's the best part about your relationship.

I'm almost asleep when I hear his key in the door. I sit up and glance behind me as the knob turns. I watch as it starts to open and smile to myself.

There are two roads to walk down
And one road to choose

My smile fades as the door jerks against the chain impeding it from swinging all the way open.

His voice filters through the crack. "Abby…"

I remove myself from the couch and approach the door, shedding the blanket in my wake. I stop a few feet away from the door, pausing for a moment. A part of me wants to rip it open and wrap my arms around him, apologizing over and over for once more expecting the worst. Tell him I love him.

Still, another part reminds me that he could be coming to say goodbye.

And I can't really tell ya what I'm gonna do
There are so many thoughts in my head

Once more, he pulls me out of my inner turmoil.

"Abby, it's me…"

And so I reach for the door, pushing it back slightly as the other hand moves up to unlatch the chain. The hinges groan as I swing the door open, letting it slip out of my hands. It thuds as it hits the small table behind it. I draw my eyes upwards to meet my visitor.

Am I ready for forever
Oh God, show me a sign

He stands there for a moment, watching me with quiet wonder, a slow, adorable grin finding its place across his face. I bite my lip and smile back, my cheeks growing hot as each silent second passes between us.

"You locked me out." He states with a playful tone of matter-of-factness.

I roll my eyes in response. "Hello to you, too."

I watch him as he steps into the apartment, closing the door behind him, his eyes never leaving mine.

"Hi."

I close my eyes, purse my lips together and take a deep breath, enjoying the scent that comes with his presence.

"I didn't think you'd be coming tonight." I admit.

When he doesn't respond, I dare to open my eyes whilst simultaneously trying to slow my racing heart.

The look on his face is enough to make me weak in the knees.

'Cause if we're to be together
Then it's got to be divine

"I'm sorry."

I raise my eyebrows, tilting my head to the side. "For what?"

"For…" He stops, shakes his head and shrugs.

I nod. "Me too."

We both smile, exchanging a look that would rival any nuncupative apology.

So I'm thinking over the things that you've said

He ventures to break the rapture first, turning around and dropping his bag on the floor. He unbuttons his coat and removes it to hang up in the closet. With his back to me, I glance up at the ceiling, expelling a soft sigh of relief.

I'm so glad you're home.

His hand is on my cheek moments later, pulling my gaze back down to meet his. He smiles again and rubs his thumb lightly across my flesh. His eyes radiate the kind of tenderness and love that I'd missed over the last few weeks… The kind that I thought I would never get to see again.

"What's wrong?"

I pause for a moment before answering, my breath catching in my throat. I swallow slowly and shake my head. I know I'm close to tears right now.

"I didn't think you'd be coming home tonight," I repeat.

He says nothing in response, pulling me close instead. I take my cue, wrapping my arms around his torso and burying my head in his chest, kissing it lightly.

And I can't really tell ya what I'm gonna do

He inhales deeply in my grasp, and I can tell there's something he wants to say, too. So I pull away slightly, looking up at him. Waiting.

"Look, I…" He stops himself and looks past me for a moment. He gives his head a shake, looking back down at me.

"What is it?" I ask, urging him to continue. My hands roam his back, my fingers tracing a line up and down his spine.

Suddenly, I feel the need to shut the both of us up with a kiss, just to break the tension. But I restrain myself. Sometimes you need to go through hell, in order to get to heaven.

"I don't want you… To change."

I raise an eyebrow. "You don't?"

"No. Yes…" He sighs. "What I meant to say was… I don't want you to change, just for me."

What?

I pull out of his embrace reluctantly, turning my back to him. I cross my arms over my chest and look at the couch where I'd made my bed.

"I told you I wasn't."

"Yeah, you did. And I… I just wanted to make sure you're doing it for the right reasons, and not because I didn't propose."

I tip my head over my shoulder, looking over at him. "What are the right reasons?"

He stares at me for a moment before closing the gap between us, and places his arms on my shoulders, squeezing them lightly.

"For you."

I scoff a little, looking back at the couch. "For me?"

"Yes."

I roll my eyes. "I told you…"

"I know what you told me."

"Then why…" I start, turning around to face him. I stop as a realization hits me.

"… You don't believe me."

He sighs. "Abby."

I shake my head. "No. Don't. Don't try and make up for it… I told you. I said I get it. So just…"

I pull away from him again, heading around the couch. I pick up the blanket and pile it beside me as I sit down.

"Just what?" He asks from behind me.

"I don't know, Carter. Just…" I sigh and stare at the CD player.

Oh, is that what you want for me
Is this where I know I stand

I throw my hands up in exhaustion. "I can't do this."

"Abby…"

I cover my face with a hand. "I told myself I wasn't going to do this…"

He's sitting beside me, now. "Do what?"

I stare at him out of the corner of my eye. His expression is one of confusion, sadness…and total adoration.

He can't keep looking at me like this.

I can't keep disappointing him.

I take a deep breath and gaze down at my hands in my lap.

"I really thought you were ready to end it tonight."

"End what?"

"Us. I thought it was over."

"Oh."

"And even though… Even though I knew it would hurt… Even though I knew it would probably kill me to lose you…" I shrug. "I convinced myself I deserved it."

"Abby…"

I shake my head and laugh lightly, sniffing away the tears that have suddenly made their appearance.

"I made myself a promise… That no matter what happened… I wouldn't continue to be like this… I would change. Because I couldn't keep living like this. I couldn't keep hating myself."

"So, sure… Maybe I did it for you. Maybe this has something to do with what you said to me in the restaurant. All I know is…That night you were going to propose to me…Despite my best efforts to convince myself otherwise…It was all I had ever really wanted…and all I can think about since then is… Why you didn't."

"I did it for you, but I did it for me, too. So that even if… Even if the end came, I'd have something to keep me going."

I look over at him and bite my lip. "Pretty selfish, huh?"

I watch him as he stares at me for several seconds. I can almost see the cogs running in his head as his mind and heart process my testimony. He blinks twice, slowly, before leaning towards me, taking my face in his hands and kissing me. It throws me for a split second, and then I respond, relaxing. I bring my hands up, resting them on his forearms, squeezing them lightly. I close my eyes and give a soft sigh.

He pulls away a moment later, kissing my bottom lip as he does. He leans his forehead against mine.

"Do you know how much I love you?" He asks.

I smile shyly, licking my lips. "That's something else I'm working on."

"Mmhmm… Maybe we can work on that together."

I laugh lightly. "I was hoping you'd offer."

To my silent dismay, he responds by sitting up, pulling away from me. I watch him as he reaches behind me, grabbing the blanket I discarded, and shifting over to the other end of the couch.

"Come here."

I oblige eagerly, fitting my body neatly against him, draping an arm across his chest and laying my head on his shoulder. He covers us both with the blanket and encircles me with his warmth and comfort, stroking my hair in that way he does so gently. I sigh happily and snuggle further into his embrace, closing my eyes.

We sit like this for several moments before one of us dares to break the silence.

"When did you get this CD?"

"Mmmm… I found it a couple of weeks ago," I reply quietly as I tune into the lyrics that filter softly through the speakers.

He wants to be with me every morning I awake
He wants to hold me thru the night

"Not your usual noise."

"I don't know… I guess I was just… drawn to it."

He doesn't say anything, kissing the top of my head as he wraps his strong arms around me.

"Hey."

"Yeah?"

"Guess what we're doing?"

He pauses, thoughtfully. "What are we doing?"

I smile and look up into his eyes.

"We're growing… We're changing."

***

Pivotal Moment #3: Our "charity date" at the Natural History Museum

March 17th, 2003

Our first date.

It brings a smile to my lips even now, two years later, as I look back on the things that we have shared since then, and still have yet to share…

The books may not dub it so, but I will always and forever remember that night as the night we became a "we".

John and Abby.

As unofficial as it may have been, there was no denying that we took our friendship to the next level that night.

Oh it was bitter irony in at its most mocking.

I was with another man.

You were trying hard to stay sober. Living day-by-day. One milestone at a time.

The fates had destined us to remain apart.

And yet, we were drawn to each other.

I can still remember the tentative way you asked me to accompany you that night.

You were afraid I'd say no, weren't you?

And the look of amusement on your face when I first answered the door, masked later by a different, more intense expression as I emerged from the bedroom dressed in more appropriate attire.

I wouldn't be caught dead wearing that dress for anyone but you.

The hesitant conversation in the back of the limo as we made our way to our evening of enchantment. Neither one of us wanted to put a foot wrong, for fear that one misstep would destroy what had the potential to be so much.

The way you proudly introduced me to your grandfather. I can't remember a time I ever felt so out of place, and yet so warmly received.

I imagine you're a lot like him… Whether you're willing to admit it or not.

The way you held me as we danced. The way you looked at me.

Gazing back up at you, I never felt so… beautiful.

So special.

And, though my heart needed eventual convincing… So loved.

I couldn't keep count of the number of times you made it skip that night. And it hasn't beat properly since then.

Not even an ex-husband could ruin that evening.

You handled the moment with such poise and dignity. You were my savior, even then.

I know you wanted to protect me. To keep me from getting hurt. And if I haven't said it before… Thank you. Thank you for not judging me or trying to hold me back.

Thank you for being my co-conspirator.

For pulling me back into the limo.

For laughing with me.

For an incredible evening.

Thank you for all the nights since then.

And oh, how I wanted you to kiss me that night, as you escorted me back to my building.

It took everything I could not to come right out and ask you upstairs.

Because I know that if I had, I wouldn't have been able to control what would have happened next.

And it would have been a mistake.

On that night.

If only I knew where we'd be, two years later.

I might have thrown caution to the wind.

I might have sacrificed it all.

For one more night with you.

***