A/N: Okay, after this, there's only one chapter left. I'm excited. Anyway, please let me know if there are any inconsistencies and such. In any case, happy reading. I hope you enjoy it.

It was here. Joan stared at the thick envelope she'd just pulled from the mailbox. With a sigh, she headed for the apartment she still shared with Grace. Luckily, Grace had class and wouldn't be home until late. Joan didn't think she could handle her friend being around while she decided what to do.

When she got home, she tossed the packet on the dining table and made herself something to eat. Nothing like good, old-fashioned avoidance, she thought. Sandwich made, Joan sat and forced herself to open her mail and read the letter inside.

Dear Ms. Girardi,

Congratulations on your acceptance to New York

University's graduate psychology program . . .

After carefully reviewing all of the information, Joan set it aside and considered her options. She had applied to four other grad schools and been accepted to three. Her application to NYU had been both last minute and against her better judgment, just something she had done to appease her advisor. Now her situation was almost laughable: she had the opportunity to move closer to the boyfriend she'd broken up with because she was afraid to move with him.

Her eyes misted at the thought of Adam. It had been eight long months since he'd left for New York. Though they hadn't spoken, Joan knew that he was doing well there. Grace had told her so. Grace had also admitted, after much badgering on Joan's part, that Adam never asked about her when they spoke. The knowledge hurt and a couple of tears spilled down her cheek. Angrily, she dashed them away. Why was she crying over him when he obviously didn't care about her anymore? Because you're still in love with him, you half-wit, she thought.

That was the problem. Because she still loved him, she feared she'd make a foolish decision and end up hurting even more than she already did. What if she decided to go to NYU? It was a big campus and a huge city; they wouldn't necessarily run into each other. It was even possible that, in the course of two years, they would never even see each other. They could coexist in the same city and never once have to endure each other's company. Except Joan knew better. If she went to NYU, she'd inevitably look Adam up, probably sooner than later. And, if his present behavior was any indication, he didn't want to have anything to do with her.

Joan pushed aside the untouched sandwich and gathered the NYU material. She took it to her room and stashed it away with the other three acceptance letters. Maybe if she gave it some time, she could think about it in terms of something other than Adam. She resolutely stuffed the file on her bookcase and lay on her bed, trying to read some book Kevin had recommended on her last visit home.

Thirty minutes later, she was still on the first page. Who was she kidding? Any decision she made concerning NYU would have Adam at its base. It was pathetic, but she knew her weakness all the same. She wasn't ready to face him. If she went to New York, she'd have to see him.

Hating herself for letting the idea of Adam dissuade her from the school, Joan got up and trashed the NYU information. "There," she said quietly. "Just make it easier on everybody." Joan sat in her desk chair and stared at the discarded packet, a sense of uneasy settling within her. This was the right decision, she assured herself. When the time was right, she'd see him. Assuming the right time ever came.

The music and laughter of Greg and Cassidy's engagement party faded into the background as Adam stared out of his living room window. The scene consisted of a quiet, apartment-lined street, the lights of Times Square winking in the distance like a promise. He used to love his view. Now it made him feel out of place, isolated.

Rodney's tall, lean frame appeared in the glass beside Adam's reflection. Six feet four and broad-shouldered, his roommate towered over him. Gold-rimmed glasses perched on his broad nose, accenting his strong, intelligent face. "What's up, man?"

"Nothing much."

Chuckling, Rodney took a sip from his bottle of Heineken and said nothing.

"What?"

"Come on, man. I've lived with you over four years now. What's going on?"

Adam looked at the party over his shoulder. Greg and Cassidy had only been together for two years. They were prone to stormy arguments and break-ups. Yet they couldn't seem to live without each other. More than once, Greg had called and lamented a fresh break-up for hours. He didn't care who answered: Adam, Rodney, even Katrina. He'd heard the same about Cassidy. "I hope they'll be happy."

Rodney followed Adam's gaze and nodded. "Yeah, me too."

The two fell into a companionable silence. It was one of the things that made them such good friends. Rodney had a quiet disposition similar to Adam's. He knew how to let a person do things in their own time. Unless he thought a friend was hurting; then he pushed. They hadn't talked about his trip home in the three weeks since he'd come back. He'd been left alone—he suspected Rodney had told Kat to give him time since she hadn't asked him anything.

"Kat's worried about you," he said as he took another sip of his beer.

With a wry smile, Adam said, "Kat's always worried about me."

"True. She's adopted you. You're like a little brother to her."

Just like that, Adam knew his reprieve was over. A glance at Rodney's carefully blank face confirmed his suspicion. Left to his own inclination, he wouldn't force Adam's confidence. But, for Kat's peace of mind, Rodney would do just about anything. He could relate. "I'm thinking about moving back to Arcadia."

"Things go that well with Joan?"

"I think so." Adam sipped the wine he'd just remembered he held. "But it's not just about her."

Rodney raised an eyebrow, but just asked, "What then?"

"New York no longer inspires me."

"For someone so uninspired, you been working awful hard lately."

Adam regarded their view once again and felt nothing. "I'm inspired, just not by New York. Not anymore."

"I know what you mean," Rodney said. "So what's stopping you?"

"From going home?"

"Yeah."

He shrugged. "I don't know."

"Yes, you do." Adam and Rodney turned to find Kat standing right behind them. They glanced each other, wondering how she'd managed to sneak up on them. She slipped her hand in Rodney's as she leaned in to kiss Adam's cheek. Where Rodney was the image of a serious but hip urban nerd, Katrina was nonchalant sensuality personified. Her golden-brown skin, voluptuous figure, and almond-shaped eyes belied her nurturing, fun-loving nature. Kat smiled with sympathetic eyes and stroked Adam's cheek. "You're afraid you've gotten your hopes up and it won't work out with Joan."

"This isn't just about her," he insisted.

"It's all about her, Sugar Bear," Kat said gently in her honeyed Southern drawl.

He tried to protest but knew it was no use. "You're right," he admitted grudgingly.

"Of course, I'm right."

Amused, Adam shook his head at her before sobering. "I don't want to rush things with her. It never works anyway."

"Moving back home ain't 'rushing things,'" Rodney pointed out.

"I know. It's complicated," he finished lamely.

"Not really," Rodney said.

"You know what you want: to be with Joan," Kat added supportively.

Adam stuffed his hands in his pockets. "And if she's not ready?"

"She loves you, right?"

"Yes, I believe she does."

"Then you'll know what to do. Don't fret about it." Kat smiled and gave him a brief hug. "Now I should get back to the party since you two are being so antisocial."

The two men watched her get lost in the crowd, then looked at each other. "She makes it sound so easy," Adam whispered.

"Maybe it is."

They stared out at the street below again, each deep in their own thoughts. Finally, Adam said, "I don't want to lose her again."

"Then don't." Rodney turned toward Adam and leaned against the window. "I can't imagine what you're going through—what you've been going through since I met you. But if I were you and it was Kat . . . I'd do whatever I had to do to be with her. Think about it, man." Clapping Adam on the shoulder, Rodney went after his girlfriend.

His friends' words swirling in his head, Adam turned his back on the view and watched the Greg and Cassidy dance. The memory of his last night with Joan filled his mind's eye. For a moment, he was lost in the feel of her in his arms, her sorrowful smiles, her autumn scent. Taking a fortifying sip of his wine, he wended his way through the party crowd and sat on the sofa. "Hey, Paul."

"Adam," Paul cried; he was a bit tipsy. "Where you been?"

"By the window," he admitted. "Um, do you have any time free tomorrow?"

Paul nodded, or rather, his head wobbled. "I do."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I am."

Fighting back a smile, Adam said, "Do you mind if I stop by? There's something I need you to help me with."

Paul gave him a shaky smile. "Sure thing, buddy."

"Thanks, Paul." Adam got up and made his way to his bedroom. He closed the door, picked up the phone, and called Paul's home phone. He left a message reminding him of the discussion they'd just had and a time to expect him. Now that he had made his decision, Adam wasn't taking any chances. This time he was going to do things right.