A/N: Unlike Starting Over and We've Only Just Begun, I intend to make this story more inclusive of the other characters. In other news, for those of you reading The Way Back to You, it's going on temporary hiatus while I flesh out this story a little more and give it a clearer direction than it has so far. Thanks so much for all of your reviews. I really appreciate them. (KateM, your review was hilarious. And we'll just assume Grace meant the hell thing figuratively.) Alexandri.

No song this chapter either. Ah, well. No movie has music in every scene.

Disclaimer: I've never watched General Hospital or Days of Our Lives. I know nothing about the characters or the situations they've found themselves in. A.

"Something's going on with Grace," Joan stated as she pushed their cart down the aisle.

"Uh huh," Adam said. "Did you want the regular crushed tomatoes or the ones without salt?"

"Regular. Are you listening to me?"

"Yes, Jane, I am." Adam put three cans of tomatoes in the buggy. "You think something's up with Grace. Regular green beans or French-cut?"

"French. Don't you think something's up with Grace?" She watched him out of the corner of her eye as she examined the cans of peas.

He nodded and loaded his arms with cans. "She's distracted about something."

"Well, aren't you concerned?" Joan decided on the peas and began to stock up.

Dumping his armload in the buggy, he leaned over and kissed his wife's cheek. "Of course, I am, but we have a kitchen to stock. I'm multitasking."

"Cute. But seriously, what are we going to do about Grace?"

"Wait for her to say she wants our help." He quickly scanned the list then handed it to her. "I'm going to the baking aisle. Will you get the rest of the canned goods?"

Since Adam was obviously on a shopping mission, she sighed and said, "Sure."

"Be right back." Then he disappeared.

Joan tried to focus on the mundane task of choosing canned vegetables, but her mind kept going back to Grace and her weird behavior. Joan and Adam had returned from their honeymoon yesterday afternoon, all arm-in-arm and private smiles. Grace was waiting for them at the gate, her usual smirk firmly in place. "I see your little seaside sabbatical went well."

"It went perfectly," Adam said as Joan threw her arms around their friend and hugged her hard.

"Uh huh." Grace gingerly peeled Joan's arms off of her. "Why do you insist on hugging me when you're excited, Girardi?"

"It's Rove now," Joan said haughtily. "I expect you to remember that."

"Whatever. Let's go."

"Call me Rove. You know you want to," Joan teased.

"Shut it, Joan," Grace said over her shoulder as she led them to baggage claim.

Joan and Adam both stopped mid-step. "She called me Joan."

"I know." Adam sounded as stunned as Joan did.

"She called me . . . what does this mean?"

"It means I'm leaving you two here if you don't move your asses."

The couple stopped marveling and hurried after her. Grace barely spoke as they collected Joan and Adam's bags and headed to her Jeep, preferring to listen to their stories about their honeymoon. It wasn't until they crossed over Arcadia's city limits that Joan asked, "So what have we missed?"

Instead of filling them in with her usual observant but snarky commentary, Grace shrugged. "Nothing."

"Nothing weird or funny happened?" Adam asked. "Nothing at all?"

"This isn't General Hospital or Days of Our Lives, you know. It's not like you left just as Marco kidnapped Josephine while her long lost love Boris finally returned home after being a POW of a bogus war for three years. Or Ellen caught her daughter Jeanette, who was nine-years-old two weeks ago but is now a sixteen-year-old runaway stripper in Vegas, unknowingly boffing with her stepfather. It's Arcadia, Maryland, for crying out loud. Nothing that bizarre happens here."

For a long moment, Adam and Joan simply sat in stunned silence. Finally, Adam whispered to Joan, "Boris?"

"So you spent last week watching soap operas?" Joan asked, trying desperately not to laugh at Adam's bewildered tone.

"No," Grace answered, her patience obviously strained. "My point is that nothing happened while you were gone because very little happens in Arcadia, at least, nothing noteworthy. So stop with the 'gasp, nothing happened while we were gone' thing."

They'd stopped but Joan knew that something had happened and that that something had Grace silently freaking out. Grace so rarely freaked out that Joan couldn't help wanting to do whatever she could to help her.

"Jane," Adam sighed when he found her in the same position he'd left her in. "We need to talk."

"But we're shopping."

"No, I'm shopping. You're trying to puzzle out whatever's bothering Grace." He took hold of the shopping cart and started to push. "Come on."

Joan reluctantly followed him to the deserted greeting card aisle. She felt oddly like she used to when she was little and her father would pull her aside and reprimand her for acting up. She didn't like the feeling at all. "What do we need talk about?" she asked, her arms folded across her chest and her face set in a stubbornly blank expression.

Adam smiled, unfolded her arms and pulled her close. "I need you to focus."

"It's just grocery shopping."

"What kind of toothpaste do I use?"

"What?" Joan asked, taken aback.

"What kinds of bread and ice cream do I like best?" he continued without answering. "Do I prefer Swiss cheese or American? Brown mustard or plain yellow? Do I have any food allergies?"

"I . . . I don't know," she stammered.

"I don't know this stuff about you either. Not all of it anyway."

"This is like the gift registry thing, isn't it?"

"Yeah."

Joan sighed. "It's just that it's always been me who's needed Grace. She's never really seemed to need me before but something tells me that she does now. I want to be there for her."

"She knows you're here if she needs you. Same with me. But we're talking about Grace. She doesn't do the whole emotional sharing thing that well and we can't force it."

"I know."

Adam gave her a reassuring kiss. "When she's ready, she'll come to us. In the meantime, we'll keep an eye on her and stock our kitchen." He smiled when Joan began to laugh.

"Okay. We'll stock our kitchen. Maybe we can have her over for dinner next week."

"Sounds good to me," he said as he turned back to the cart. "But first we need spices."

In the last week, Luke had called Grace forty-one times. At least that's how many times he'd dialed all the numbers and actually let the phone ring. He suspected she was screening her calls since he'd also left forty-one messages, none of which she'd returned.

Now he sat in his Cambridge apartment, phone receiver in hand, debating whether he should make a forty-second call. On the one hand, calling would probably lead to nothing more than another unreturned message. On the other hand, not calling because of the apparent futility felt too much like giving up. Luke was tired of giving up on having a relationship with Grace. Even if they never became anything more than friends, he wanted to know that he had at least tried. He didn't want to look back at his life one day and regret not taking the chance his gut was telling him to take.

Decision made, he called Grace for the forty-second time, listening to the line ring and fully expecting to leave yet another message.

"What?"

Luke started at the sound of her terse voice. "Grace?"

"What do you want, Girardi?"

"I want to talk to you."

"I told you there's nothing to talk about. Stop calling me."

"It doesn't work that way. We slept together. We have to talk about it."

"No, we don't," she ground out. "Look, I'm not in the mood for this."

"When are you going to be in the mood?" he asked, exasperated.

"The day after you stop calling me."

Luke clenched his teeth, trying to hold on to his temper. Why did she have to be so damn difficult? "You're my sister's best friend and you're practically family. You can't keep avoiding me."

"Funny, it's been pretty easy to do for the last five years."

"It won't be so easy anymore since I'm moving back to Maryland." His mouth dropped. Where had that come from?

Silence followed his announcement. Then Grace cleared her throat. "What are you talking about?"

"Johns Hopkins has offered me a teaching position starting in the fall and I'm taking it." He'd been comparing his prospects for weeks now and hadn't been able to decide. Now, he'd let Grace's antagonism goad him into a spontaneous decision that felt strangely right. "I'm also spending the summer in D.C. as a research assistant for a professor of mine. Plus, I should spend more time with my family after all this time, don't you think?"

"Why are you doing this?" she asked softly.

"Why are you so uncomfortable with this?" he asked back.

"Girardi . . ."

"You can tell me that our night meant nothing all you want, but I don't believe you, Grace," he said quietly. "There's something between us. I feel it and I think you do, too."

"Let it go, geek."

"I've done that for as long as I've known you. I won't do it anymore, Grace. You don't have to be scared of me or us, for that matter."

"I'm not afraid of you and there is no 'us.'"

"We'll see, won't we?" Grace sighed and Luke felt oddly centered, like things we're just as they should be.

"I have to go," Grace said, her voice firm. But Luke heard her hesitation anyway.

"Okay. I'll be seeing you soon, Grace."