Author's Notes:: Another chapter. Read and review please.. Thanks!!!

I drop my keys on the wooden table by the door and push my purse under the first compartment. It lands with a satisfying smack and I pull off my shoes. My feet are killing me, my back is killing me, and my head is pounding. I need a bottle of Advil. I think its going to take a bottle to get rid of all my aches. The sun is starting to peak through the blinds, even though the forecast called for rain. I see Donnie sitting in the living room, spread out with his papers on the sofa. I see Tayte sleeping on the love chair across from him, covered by a blanket. His mouth is slightly open and his arms are spread out. His eyes blink every few minutes, but we both know he's asleep. I walk over and sit down on the spot he's made for me. He plants a gentle kiss on my lips, and I wrap my arms around him. So much for paperwork.

"Hey."

He runs relaxing patterns around my back, releasing my tense muscles with his gentle touch. I melt into his hold. He's shifting through papers with one hand and holding me with the other. I place another kiss on his lips and he shows a delicate smile. I look back at Tayte and make sure he's sleeping. He always complains about me kissing Donnie in front of him. He's still asleep, so we're good for the moment. I start to stand up and head toward the shower. He pulls me in front of him, holding my arms, looking up at me. He's so damn cute. He skims my back and butt gently before resting his head against my stomach. He kisses around my navel before looking back up at me.

"Hi."

I pull him up with me, and he towers over me. He's so tall. I should be wearing heels when I'm with him, but I always forget. He puts his arms around me, I feel like I'm being suffocated. Of course I could deal with this kind of suffocation. I give him another kiss. It's funny, because most couples after seven years don't have this. Susan and Chuck rarely have their moments, Sam and Luka used to kiss all the time, now it's nothing but a simple acknowledging nod. I have come home to this almost every single day, and I'm still not sick of it. I could stay in his arms forever. He's my protector, my guardian. I sound like a cheesy romance novel, but I feel safest in his arms. He cares about me and my son. He's given me all of his heart. He's perfect. Absolutely perfect. And I'm the most imperfect woman he could have chosen to love.

"Donnie, I need to talk to you."

I pull him into the kitchen. I don't want Tayte to hear any of this. He follows my lead, a worried expression on his face. I think he was up late last night with Tayte and his fever. I also think he's been up early working on paperwork. The man is going to be his own end. I brush his hair out of his eyes, and run my hand over his stubble ridden cheeks. He forces another smile, but it quickly disappears. He knows something up. He can read me like a book.

"What's wrong?"

I move away from him a little. I have no clue how he will react. He follows me a little then lets me gain my distance. I fidget from foot to foot, pulling on my hair, cracking my knuckles. He gives me a short look, he probably can smell the cigarettes I've had. He hates me smoking. I'm a doctor. I should know better. I can almost imagine him giving me my speech, you're telling your patients not to smoke . . . how are they supposed to listen to you if you can't listen to yourself. I know, I know. Tonight I had a patient die of end stage lung cancer. He smoked three packs a day. I'm not that bad yet, although I used to be. I stopped for Tayte. I've done mostly everything in my life for Tayte. Just like the thing I'm about to do. It's for Tayte.

"It's about Tayte."

A worried look plants itself permanently on his face, brining out the bags under his eyes, the wrinkles on his forehead and around his eyes. He moves closer and I move father away. He glances back at the sleeping figure on the sofa, ready to run to his rescue at a second's notice. I know he loves him more than the world. I've seen the two of them together. They are so happy. I'd hate to do anything to destroy that relationship. But he needs to know, for my sake, for Tayte's sake. I have been carrying around this secret and it seems to be the only thing blocking me from giving Donnie my whole heart and soul. I'm just afraid this will be the point where Donnie doesn't want me anymore.

"Is he okay?"

I nod my head, staring at the wood floor in our kitchen. The wood spirals and changes colors and fades and brightens. It's like a maze. Something I've never noticed before. I play with my fingers, trying to crack them, but everything's gone. I lean against the counter, the edge digging into my back. I take a deep breath. This is the moment of truth. My life will either suddenly get better or suddenly be destroyed.

"He's just . . . You're not . . . Tayte's not biologically yours."

I swear I haven't taken a breath in the last ten minutes. I can feel the ceiling and the walls beginning to spin around me. I can't look at him. I'm afraid at what I might see. He's leaning against the wall. I hear him let out a breath. I'm hoping my lungs are going to remember how to work before I faint. I manage to glance at him. I can't read his expression. But it's definitely not what I expected it to be. I hold onto the counter for support. I didn't think it would take this much out of me. I hear him almost let out a laugh. I can feel his hands wrapping around my waist and pulling me into his arms.

"I know."

Wait a minute. He knows? How does he know? Is there something I'm not aware of? If he knows why is he still here with me? I expected every reaction from him but this. I thought he would go crazy, screaming and yelling, then leave. I thought he might stay with us out of sympathy. I thought he might demand I leave with my bastard son and never come back. I expected a lot of things, but then again I'm a pessimist. I thought the worst case scenario would be him leaving. I never even thought of the best case. I never think that things might work out, somehow.

"What?"

He holds my hands as I stare into his eyes. I think I have met the world's more perfect man. He swings our hands lightly as he places a delicate kiss on my forehead. He just let every burden I've been carrying for years fall off my shoulders. I feel light as a feather. I lean into him and he catches me. I push him against the fridge and he lets out another slight laugh. He's got a tiny smile forming, and I can see the spark in his eyes. His deep brown eyes, the one's I've gotten lost in every night for seven years. The same eyes that remind me . . . No. I feel him squeeze me gently and I trace his chest with my finger.

"I know, Abby. I'm a doctor, not oblivious. The dates didn't match up."

Why was I stupid enough to believe he wouldn't think the dates were off a bit? I was probably too over-obsessed with my worries about Taste being normal and healthy . . . And thoughts of him. How to reach him, if I should tell him, how he would react, how I would react to his reaction . . . There were so many things flooding my mind at the time I didn't pay too much attention to what Donnie wanted. But then again, I hadn't thought of having him in my life this long either. I thought he would just up and leave, tell me I was a liar and disappear. He didn't. He hung around. I never thought anything of it. I never decided to change his mind after he was parading around the ER with his new son, happier than I had ever seen him. I didn't know what to make of things after that. I let time tell me.

"So you've known all this time?"

I feel him nod his head as I dig my face into his chest, I don't really feel like having him see me cry. He knows me too well by now. His hands run rhythmically up and down my sore back as he plants a kiss on top of my head. He's holding me so tight, it hurts, but it feels so good. I can't let him go. I'd be an idiot to. He pushes me a little off him and forces a smile upon my face. He's the only man, besides Taste, that can make me smile. It feels so good to smile.

"Yes. I figured when the time came, you would tell me."

I really don't get how this man can hold so much in without having it destroy him. I mean I would have probably screamed it out at me if I was him. He knew. He didn't care. I wish I could understand him. He's so perfect, without a doubt, the best man in the world. And I have no clue why he's still here with me. I could probably keep wondering that question for hours, days, weeks, months, years . . . and never get a good enough answer. He could probably get any other girl he wants, but he chose me.

"Listen, I'm Tayte's father regardless of what anyone says. I was with you through pregnancy and delivery. I was the first one to hold him, I saw his first smile, his first steps, his first kiss . . . He's my life. I love him. And I love you."

He places a kiss on my lips, but me being me, I push him away. I don't necessarily want to do it. I do it out of reflex . . . Or habit of survival. I don't know. He gets the picture and moves out of the way. He knows me by now too well. I can see the bit of anger in his eyes, but he will never do anything. He's never raised his hand to me, nor Taste. I know I hurt him a little each time I do it, but it's hard to break old habits.

"Donnie . . . "

I watch him walk to the other end of the kitchen, leaning against the counter, gripping onto the edge in an attempt to control some of his anger. I wish I could figure out what he's angry about. He's not angry about the Taste situation, I think he's angry at me. I don't know. We've never really had a fight, we have disagreements and he's the one to usually apologize. I move closer to the door, he runs his hands through his hair and shakes his head at me. He throws up his hands in surrender and moves back, closer to me.

"No, listen to me for a second. We've been together for the past seven years, and we're good together. We're both growing older, and I know you want more kids as much as I do, although you won't admit it. I can give you everything you could ever ask for . . . I ugh. I know you don't love me as much as I love you. I've come to terms with it. I can even name off the person you love. But Abby, he's not good for you. He's caused you so much pain and misery. Let me be the one that's going to stand by your side, through thick and thin. I won't run away. I haven't yet. This isn't about an immature adolescent's view of love. We've all grown out of that. It's about having each other to depend on, to be with, to talk to. Please, Abby, I don't see my life without you."