Okay, here we go again! Two more chapters! Also...I guess, along with Seth's exit, I will be leaving out the Caleb/Julie Cooper wedding. Because that just made things more complicated for me. Plus it was kind of creepy. ;) Thanks for the feedback...and keep it coming! You guys are amazing! xoxo, Claire

He sat in the pool house, crying—only a little—in spite of himself. They had broken up for that short time because of Kirsten's disapproving father, mainly, and for petty college-romance reasons that he couldn't specifically remember. Their breakup specifically consisted of Sandy calling Kirsten "Bitch Barbie" and Kirsten telling Sandy that sometimes he looked like a homeless person and would it really kill him to change his clothes every once in awhile? These apparently both seemed to be very biting and witty insults at the time.

Following the breakup, Sandy had spent two days in a drunken stupor, two more days in a state of dramatic revelation, and then two weeks behind a purple Les Paul borrowed from his roommate. His teenage guitar habit revived, he paid his roommate Peter ten dollars a day to give him lessons. On the last day of classes he showed up at Kirsten's dorm to do the most degrading and utterly mortifying thing he had ever done. She opened the door to find him stationed behind the ugly instrument, fully prepared to murder his dignity.

She stared at him in horror as he launched into a very distorted version of "More Than A Feeling." Peter backed him up with dramatic solos whenever he saw fit, which was about every ten seconds. She grew more and more afraid with each "I see Marianne walk away," and Kirsten had never looked quite so scared as she did when he completed the song by holding the final "away" for a full twenty-six seconds. It was not until he finished the song that he realized just how very irrelevant this song was, making it all the more disturbing. He hurriedly began his next number, Big Star's "Thirteen," which, though sung in a troubling soprano, made Kirsten cry. It was this that did the trick, though Seth preferred now to leave out the half-decent detail and relay the story as, "Dude, my dad won my mom over with Boston." Peter had disappeared after that, leaving them alone to reconcile.

"I love you," Kirsten whispered as she buried herself in his chest. They stood holding each other until a neighbor, presumably a single and jealous one, stuck her head out of her door and snapped that they might consider getting a room, which was an odd suggestion considering the fact that they were both technically inside the door. They went inside and closed the door behind them and Kirsten kissed him. "You're so bizarre. Fuck, I love you so much." He carefully set his guitar on her couch. "Thank you, Sandy," she said. "That's the sweetest thing anyone's ever done for me." She played with her hands. "Albeit it was also pretty disturbing," she nodded quickly, then bit her lip and smiled. "But so incredibly romantic. You have no idea."

"Yeah, you're not usually a crier," he remarked. "I'm feeling pretty proud of myself."

"I can't believe you learned Boston."

"Not only that...I paid to learn Boston."

"Might I ask why the particular song selection?"

"Peter has limited skills."

"I love you." She stared at her lap. "I'm sorry."

"Me too!" They both laughed at his enthusiasm, and they were together after that. Incessantly until...right now. He smiled at the thought of his spontaneous college self. Dear god, he was helplessly cheesy, but he was also pretty fucking romantic. He tipped his head back against the couch and closed his eyes, feeling pathetic.

He tried to think of her being so young and so alone. As her boyfriend, he had prided himself on being very supportive. How ironic that the one time that she needed him the most was the one time he wasn't there. He considered whether it was fair to blame her for not telling him, and decided that yes, it was fully justified. He was a pretty damn good husband, if he did say so himself. He sat idly by while she constantly flirted with her ex boyfriend. He didn't freak out when she kissed another guy, that same one, in fact. He allowed her to have an affair with her job and throw herself into soiree after soiree. He conformed himself to fit into the puzzle of her weird, upscale life. He took it like a man when she became an entire different person upon moving back home. He could be trusted. She knew that. She should have told him sooner; it was that simple. Still, though, he couldn't help but feel like he was overreacting. She had that effect on him.

She was out of his league, simply put. He wasn't putting himself down, but it was startlingly obvious that around here she was viewed as the superior of the two of them. She was gorgeous and incredibly successful. He had his charming moments and a mediocre job. It was no contest. It seemed like he should forgive her instantly to avoid being in conflict with his outwardly flawless spouse. But it was things like this, things that other people weren't allowed to see, that made it so hard. Anyone else would tell him that he was being a jackass. That he was crazy. How could he be mad at Kirsten Nichol? He sighed and flopped back and felt his stomach lurch when he thought of her dealing with the abortion. What made him even more nauseous was the fact that she probably woke up and gave it at least a few seconds of thought every morning and it took her eighteen years of those mornings to come to him.

He considered it and made a formal decision. It was the worst fucking day of his entire life. Serenading wouldn't get him out of this one.