Author's Note: I'm so glad people are enjoying this story. I always write a chapter, then am like, "oh gawd, that sucks!" …So I really appreciate reviews. Thank you so much for everybody's who's stuck with me so far; you've all been so great!

I know this has been a long time coming, and sorry! I've been having a hard time with this story and it's been getting harder for me to write. I don't want to stop it because I've come such a long way, so as long as you know that much. I just hope I can get a second wind and want to write more. That being said…

Chapter 38

April

Mark gazed at the pounding sheets of rain and the glaring lightning outside the large windows of his and Maureen's apartment. This wasn't quite the unseasonable weather he was hoping for today. He uncrossed his arms from across his chest and sighed, letting them drop at his sides. He glanced over at the microwave clock and then back out the window, eventually settling his gaze on the picnic basket, neatly packed with a breakfast for two. On top of the basket was a carefully placed velvet box; inside, a diamond ring.

Back in January, Mark had booked a flight on a hot air balloon for the both of them. They had been through so much together and he wanted to do something different and spontaneous when he proposed to her. It would probably take weeks to reschedule another balloon ride, and he was sick of waiting.

A deafening crash of thunder broke through Mark's thoughts and a smile slowly spread across his face. He quickly grabbed the wool blanket from the couch and spread it out on the floor by the windows, prepared to do what he had to do.

About fifteen minutes later, Mark crept into his and Maureen's bedroom where he found her sound asleep. She was such a deep sleeper and was probably the only person he knew who could sleep through such a large storm, save for Roger.

He sat down on the edge of the bed and brushed her hair out of her eyes and behind her ear, kissing her temple gently.

"Weenie," he teased her, shaking her softly. That had become a term of endearment since they had babysat Cindy's children for the first time, much to Maureen's chagrin. "Time to wake up."

She moaned sleepily and buried her face in her pillow, her hair falling all over the place again.

"C'mon," he prompted her, stroking the back of her head. Without warning, she rolled back over and stared at Mark with sleepy eyes, disgruntled.

"What are you doing?" she sighed, curling up underneath the blankets.

Mark laughed and moved closer to her. "It's time to get up."

"What time is it?" she asked, shutting her eyes again.

"Six-fifteen," Mark replied, grinning.

Her eyes opened, cattishly peeking over at him before she gave a large yawn. "They have those in the morning now, too?"

Mark stood up, laughing, and scooped Maureen up in his arms. She relished this, and she wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder.

"Sounds like a storm," she noted, closing her eyes and snuggling into his chest.

"Only for the last couple hours," he laughed. "Somebody knows how to sleep."

She shrugged, still half-asleep. "When you got it, you got it."

He set her down when they reached the door and kissed her quickly before instructing her to shut her eyes, which she did so uneasily. Maureen hated surprises. She didn't like not knowing what was happening at any given moment. She needed total control over any situation to feel comfortable. Uncertainty made her nervous, though she'd never let anybody else know that.

Mark wrapped one arm around her waist from behind, and she automatically slipped her hand into his, clutching it tightly.

"Don't peek," he whispered into her ear as he covered her eyes with his other hand, knowing very well that she'd try and see anyway.

She nodded and let out a quiet laugh. "Why?" she whispered back. "What are we doing?"

"You'll see," he replied, smiling, as he led her slowly down the stairs and through the living room to his makeshift candle and lightning-lit picnic. He removed his hand from her face and absentmindedly kissed the side of her head. "You can open them now."

"Too late," she giggled, staring wide-eyed at the scene before her. Bowls of candy, strawberries, and even Cap'n Crunch cereal (which had become a staple dinner food when they were all broke and still living in the loft) were set out on the blanket that was spread out over the floor. A bottle of champagne and two glasses were nearby, too. She plopped down on the ground, smiling. "What's all of this for?"

"Because I kind of like you," he shrugged, sitting down across from her. She took a child-like handful of candy in her hand and held it out for him, but not before grabbing some for herself. He took some and popped them in his mouth, smiling as he watched her excitedly study everything in front of her.

"You're so cute," she told him, crawling forward and sitting down beside him.

Mark blushed slightly and took her hand, kissing it gently. "Want some champagne?"

"Now who's the drunk, Mr. It's Six in the Morning and I Already Need Alcohol in my System," she teased him, resting her chin on his shoulder. She reached out with her left arm and held her hand open. "But yes. Yes I do."

He laughed and grabbed the champagne and glasses, pouring some into both. He handed one to her and picked up the other for himself.

"To us?" he asked, raising his glass.

Maureen's expression clouded and looked puzzlingly at her glass. "What is this all for, Mark? Is this some anniversary that I forgot again? You know I'm not good at this kind of thing. I never remember—"

"Just drink it," he whispered, resting his forehead against hers. "Trust me."

Sighing, she kissed him quickly and took a sip of her champagne before putting it down on the ground. "You're freaking me out, you know that?"

"Am I?"

She laughed and playfully shoved him backwards. "Yeah, you are. Besides, I'm still mad at you because you woke me up so early. I don't even have to work today and I don't even start my designing classes for another two weeks."

Guiltily, he shrugged and smiled sheepishly. "I don't work today either, so we're in the same boat."

She laughed and shook her head, yawning and stretching her arms over her head. She leaned against Mark and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, resting his head against hers.

"I love you," he told her, kissing the top of her head tenderly.

She looked up at him and replied, "Love you too."

Taking a deep breath, Mark shut his eyes and pushed her away gently so that they were facing each other. He took both of her hands in his.

"Why are you shaking?" she asked, laughing. "Cold?"

He shrugged in an attempt to hide his nervousness and smiled again. "You're beautiful."

"Oldest line in the book," she continued to laugh. "You don't think I'm going to fall for that, do you?"

"Well it's true," he rationalized.

She shrugged. "Stop saying that."

"Why?"

She shrugged uncomfortably again and stood up. "Because." She left Mark and went into the kitchen, opening up the refrigerator.

"Now you're mad," he noted, frustrated.

She took out a bottle of juice and put it down on the counter harshly. "Yeah, I am."

Mark sighed and stood up, turning to face her. "Why now?"

"'Why now?'" she repeated, turning to face him. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It's supposed to mean that I can't even do anything nice without you getting suspicious and mad at me!" he shot back, motioning towards her.

She glared at him over the counter as she took out a plastic cup from the cupboard and slammed it down on the counter. "That's not true."

"It is!" he yelled. "I woke up early so I could do all of this for you and you got mad at me!"

"I 'got mad at you' because you have to be such a girl all the time!" she screamed back, throwing the cup at him harshly which he caught as it collided painfully with his stomach. "You drive me crazy! 'Oh, you're so beautiful.' It was nice the first three thousand times, Mark!"

"If I don't call you beautiful you tell me to! You're never happy!"

"How would you know?!" She kicked at the wall underneath the counter, frustrated.

"Because you're always screaming at me!"

"Oh, so now it's all my fault, isn't it? That's always the way it is! I'm in the wrong again, not Mark! He's too perfect to do anything wrong, but Maureen's a screw up anyway, so let's blame her! I hate you!" she shouted at him, gesturing emphatically with her arms.

"Marry me!" he yelled angrily, throwing the plastic cup to the ground.

"Fine!" she screamed back, stomping her foot on the tiled floor.

"Okay!"

"I'm glad!"

"I'm glad you're glad!" Mark yanked the small ring box out of his pocket and walked over to the counter, slamming it down and shoving it over to Maureen. He crossed his arms over his chest in a huff and pouted. "I love you."

She glared at him, then at the ring. "I love you, too."

"Well, good," he retorted coldly, but quieter this time. He made his way around the counter and took the ring out of the box, picking up Maureen's left hand and putting it on her finger, holding it loosely and sliding it on. "Sorry," he shrugged, not letting go of her hand.

"Me too," she shrugged, leaning in and kissing him passionately. She wrapped her arms around his neck, standing on her toes to kiss him. His arms snaked around her waist, pulling her closer to him.

"Ask me again," she breathed after pulling away from him.

"Will you marry me, Maureen?" he asked her, resting his forehead against hers and stroking her cheek gently with his hand.

She shut her eyes and nodded, kissing him gently. "Of course."

Mark smiled, sliding his hands into hers. "So we're engaged?"

Maureen nodded slowly and shrugged, laughing. "I guess we are."

"I like this," he admitted as he held her tightly, almost afraid to let her go.

"Me too," she agreed, practically smiling from ear to ear. She ran her fingers through his blonde hair and trailed her fingers down the back of his neck while she kissed him gently. "What now?" she whispered.

Mark shrugged and blushed slightly, knowing very well what she was implying.

She grinned and kissed him quickly before swirling out of his grasp and scampering into their bedroom. Mark laughed and shook his head, following her into their room.

Roger knocked harshly on the door of Mark and Maureen's apartment, grumbling to himself.

"It's open!" he heard Mark call from inside. Roger grabbed the doorknob and twisted it firmly, shoving the door open. He stood in the entryway to the living room, soaking wet from the rain outside and staring at Mark and Maureen. After their early morning romp, they had retired to the living room to enjoy what was left of Mark's picnic. Mark was lying down on his back on the blanket with Maureen lying with her head on his stomach.

"I'm engaged!" Maureen announced, holding her hand up in the air and waving it around like a beacon before it flopped back down, hitting Mark in the chest.

"Ow," he squeaked from the floor. Mark pushed himself up onto his elbows and looked over at Roger. "Rog? What're you doing here?"

"I hate April!" he yelled, tearing off his drenched leather jacket and throwing it to the ground as he stormed into the living room, flopping down onto the couch.

"Get off of there," Maureen scolded him, turning over onto all fours and struggling to stand up. She tried to bat him away but gave up quickly, yawning and wandering into the kitchen instead.

"What happened?" Mark asked, sitting up and smoothing the blanket out beside him. He picked up one of the leftover strawberries and popped it in his mouth.

Roger turned and glared at him, the glare quickly softening into a look of fear. He dropped his head into his hands and shook it, sighing deeply. Mark stood up and sat on the arm of the couch by Roger, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"What happened?" he repeated quietly. Roger shot up from his seat and began to pace, mumbling incoherently before plopping down on the opposite side of the couch again.

"April's a fucking liar!" he yelled. Surprised by this sudden change in emotion, Mark and Maureen stared at Roger blankly as he continued, jumping up from the couch again. "She's 'clinically depressed,'" he motioned with finger quotations, "and didn't even tell me! And apparently it's been going on for a couple months already."

"And so you left?" Maureen scoffed, uncapping the bottle of orange juice on the counter.

"What the hell else was I supposed to do?!" he yelled back at her, throwing his arms in the air and glaring fiercely at her.

She calmly placed the juice down and picked up the cordless phone from its cradle on the wall. "You are the dumbest man I have ever met," she commented, coming out of the kitchen and rounding the counter. She crossed the room on her way into Mark's office. "I'm going to call her because I'm sure she's not feeling so great right now." She shot a quick glance over to Mark and raised her eyebrows before shutting herself up in the other room.

"She's a bitch, you know," Roger informed Mark, crossing his arms over his chest.

Mark sighed and rolled his eyes. "Yeah," he replied, not really having heard Roger's last comment. He stood up and crossed his arms over his chest, too. "So then what?"

"Then what what?" he retorted.

Mark sat back down at the couch and rolled his eyes standoffishly.

"I didn't ask for your help, Mark."

"Then why are you here?"

Roger stared back at Mark silently before shrugging. "Then we fought and then I came here," he replied to Mark's question earlier.

"So you found out that your wife is depressed and you yelled at her?"

Roger looked down at his feet guiltily. "Maybe."

"The woman is mentally imbalanced and you yelled at her for it?"

"Stop trying to act so holier-than-thou, Mark. You're just a big a screw up as I am."

"Okay," Mark continued calmly, treating Roger as if he was scolding a toddler for drawing on the wall. "But that's not what we're talking about right now. What did she do when you left?"

He shrugged and glanced around the apartment impatiently. "She was crying when I left."

"Why'd you leave?"

"Christ, Mark! I don't know, because she drops this bomb on me that she's a completely different person than who I thought she was? Because I can't even trust my own girlfriend?!"

"She's your wife."

"Fuck!" Roger shouted, flopping down on the couch next to Mark, sighing and resting his head in his hands. "My fault, right?"

His friend shrugged. "It's both of yours. You're both messed up."

"I don't know if I love her," Roger admitted suddenly, looking over at Mark, who looked quickly over at him, surveying his expression.

"What?"

"April. I don't know if I love her. I think I made a mistake. I'm in over my head."

Mark cocked his head sympathetically at his friend and frowned. "Why?"

"We're not good for each other. We just bring each other down. We fight. A lot."

"So do Maureen and I," he rationalized.

"But you're in love. I'm not sure if I am."

"Sweetie," Maureen spoke into the phone, "Me and Mark fight all the time. Just because you two fight doesn't mean he doesn't love you." She rested her feet on top of Mark's desk and leaned back into his black faux leather desk chair.

"What if I rushed into this? I mean, I was pretty stupid to marry him in the first place. We'd only been dating for four months."

Maureen remained silent on her end of the phone, unsure of what to say until April spoke up again, quietly.

"I don't know if I love him anymore. Don't get me wrong, I do love Roger. Just not in that way. I feel like every fight we have is my fault. It's usually because I lied to him and didn't tell him something."

Maureen looked up from her fingernails and shook her head, even though she knew April couldn't see it. "No, it's usually his fault. He goes out of his way to create confrontation."

"I don't know…"

Maureen sighed and shut her eyes. She liked April, but sometimes found it annoying how often she'd want to talk to her or hang out with her. She wasn't very good at giving advice and could usually fudge her way out of it smoothly, but it was different with April. She'd drag on conversations, as if trying to pry out the answer Maureen didn't have out of her.

Needless to say, Maureen was relieved when the office door opened and Mark poked his head into the room.

"One sec, okay April?"

"Sure…"

"You on the phone with April?" he whispered.

She nodded and covered the mouthpiece, handing the phone in Mark's direction.

"Take it," she whispered back. "I don't know what to say anymore."

Mark laughed quietly and crouched down beside Maureen, resting his head on her knee. "Me either. Roger wants to talk to her."

"Roger!" Maureen called, holding the phone to the door. Roger immediately appeared and tore the phone out of her hand, leaving the room and slamming the door behind him.

"What a way to spend the day we get engaged, eh?"

Maureen nodded and stroked the back of his head, shutting her eyes again. "What would we be doing today if we weren't doing this?"

"I don't know," Mark began. "But you want to know a secret?"

"Yeah," she admitted as Mark stood up and the pair rearranged themselves so that he was now sitting in the chair with Maureen in his lap.

"I had this big hot air balloon ride and picnic set up for us for today," he told her, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder.

"You did?" she asked, resting her head on his shoulder. "Why?"

"Because I love you. I wanted you to remember it."

She smiled and intertwined their fingers together. "I'd remember it no matter what."

"I just wish you'd have told me earlier," Roger sighed, rubbing his temples with his hand.

"I know. I know I messed up big time. I should have, but I'm--"

"You what? You've been keeping things like this from me through our whole relationship. You're suicidal, you're depressed. What's next, you killed someone? You're pregnant?"

April remained silent on the other end of the phone and Roger's eyes went wide.

"You are pregnant, aren't you? I knew it…"

"No!" she cried back. "I wish you'd just let me talk!"

"Fine," he retorted. "Go."

"The reason I didn't tell you these things is because I knew you'd overreact like this. No, just let me talk!" she yelled when Roger tried to comment. "You always do this; I tell you something and you freak out then leave. I figured… I figured that if I didn't tell you I wouldn't have to worry about you acting irrationally."

"So instead you wanted to save it for a rainy day?"

"I didn't want you to find it out this way."

"You're the one who's always saying that married people tell each other everything."

"I know. I made a mistake, okay? Now you know everything. Can we please just move on?"

"Move on? Move on from what? You lying to me left and right? I can't just put this aside, you know."

"Oh, don't make this seem like it's entirely my fault. If you weren't so damn unapproachable this wouldn't be happening!"

"Unapproachable? What? If I'm so fucking intimidating why are you married to me?!"

"I don't know," she answered honestly.

Roger felt like somebody punched him hard and knocked the wind out of him. She didn't know why she married him? Even though he had admitted that he wasn't sure if he loved her just minutes before, her comment still hurt.

"Hey, listen…" he began quietly. "I'm gonna come home now. We're gonna talk this all through and make up, okay?"

He heard her sniffle on her end of the line. "Yeah."

"We can order some food, just be together. It'll be just us. We'll get through this, I promise."

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