A/N: Woo-hoo. It's back. I was supposed to have this chapter up weeks ago, but I just wasn't inspired even though I knew mostly what happened in it. That turned out to be a good thing since the middle section turned out totally different than I thought it would. BTW, Adam is in no danger of heart trouble so don't even think it.

Thanks so much for your reviews and support and love of this story. And thanks for convincing me not to make Grace pregnant. It was a crutch on my part because, truthfully, she intimidates the hell out of me as a character. I hope you enjoy this chapter. I make no promises for when to expect the next one since I still don't know how I'm going to go about addressing the issues, etc., that I want to address. But I am working. R&R. Alexandri.

Chapter Theme Song: The story's theme The Space Between by Dave Matthews Band.

Grace sat motionless on her couch, trying to collect herself after her encounter with Luke. There were too many emotions rushing through her to make sense of them all. Why did it all have to be so difficult? She didn't want Luke. Actually, if she were completely honest with herself, she desperately wanted Luke and hated him for it. She wasn't supposed to feel like this, wasn't supposed to want someone so much that thinking about him physically hurt. She knew what happened when she opened herself to other people. Everything would be hunky-dory for a while until something happened in the other person's life that meant far more to them than Grace ever would.

"It was just supposed to be one night," she exclaimed into the quiet. One night to appease her curiosity and the fantasies that she'd never admit having. One night to pretend that they were more than just . . . what exactly were they? They weren't friends. They certainly weren't lovers. They were more than acquaintances, yet they didn't have a definable relationship. They just were. Why couldn't Luke leave it at that? Why did he have to pursue a relationship? Why couldn't it just be sex? Grace almost laughed at that. She knew why. Because Luke had always had a thing for her and, if she wanted him this badly, she could only imagine what he was going through.

But it all would have blown over eventually. Of that she was certain. Sooner or later, Luke would have gotten the message that they weren't going to happen and he would've moved on to someone who could love him in equal measure. His pursuit of her would have died if he'd never heard about her supposed pregnancy. She knew he wouldn't stop hounding her until he was certain she wasn't pregnant. After all, he was a smart cookie, a virtual genius, a scientist. It would occur to him that she might lie to get rid of him. Would it really be so bad if he kept trying?

Angry at the traitorous turn of her thoughts, Grace got off the couch and went to her bedroom for shoes. She needed a way to channel the energy vibrating through her. Grabbing her keys, she headed outside. Ordinarily, she'd have gone for a walk, but she headed for the Jeep. She knew her possible pregnancy wasn't something that had just popped into Luke's head. His question indicated that someone else had given him the idea. And there was only one person Grace could think of who would tell Luke something like this. Gritting her teeth, she cranked the ignition and began to drive. She was ready for a confrontation.

Adam frowned at the sound of an angry voice coming from the living room. He came out of the spare room, which they'd turned into a guest room/home office, to find Grace in Joan's face, fuming.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"Your wife told her brother I'm pregnant which, by the way, is not true."

"No, I didn't," Joan said, meeting his eyes as if she desperately needed an ally.

"Then why did he come to my apartment demanding to know if it was true?" Grace thundered. "I figured Rove knew but he wouldn't tell. You would in some misguided attempt to 'help.'"

"But, Grace, I . . ."

"If I need your help, I'll tell you."

"Because you're always so forthcoming," Joan said, the beginnings of anger in her voice.

Grace glared at her friend. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you never tell me anything," Joan cried. "We've been friends for over ten years and I'm still waiting for you to realize that."

"It's because we've been friends so long that I know better than to confide in you."

"Grace," Adam said, stepping forward at Joan's hurt expression.

"I don't betray my friends," Joan stated.

Grace scoffed. "If I'd told you anything about me, you'd have told everything you knew before I finish speaking."

"Okay, yes, when we first met, I tended to blab things," Joan admitted. "Now, I share information on a need-to-know basis. I know something happened between you two. If you were pregnant, Luke needed to know. But, then, I've grown up, Grace. What about you?"

Adam stepped between the two women, sensing that Grace was reaching her snapping point. "Jane, that wasn't necessary."

"Then tell your buddy to stop acting like a spoiled brat."

"Watch it, Girardi," Grace warned.

"Rove!"

"What difference does it make? You still told your brother my personal business, which you had no right to do."

"Fine. I admit it. I wanted to tell him. God knows you never would. But I didn't. I never said a word to him."

"And I should believe you, why?"

"I don't give a damn what you believe."

"Am I supposed to be surprised?"

"You know what, the hell with you."

"That is enough," Adam declared, slamming his hand down on the counter they were next to, startling the women. "Step back, both of you."

They ignored him, intent on staring each other down.

"Grace," he said, glaring at her.

She stood straighter and kept her eyes focus on Joan.

Adam turned his gaze on his wife. "Jane."

She didn't budge.

He sighed. "Joan, please?"

Joan's eyes shot to Adam's face, tears gathering in them. Her mouth fell open slightly and her bottom lip quivered before she snapped it shut. She turned slowly on her heel and went into their bedroom, closing the door quietly behind her.

Adam suppressed another sigh. He'd just hurt his wife and he knew he was going to pay for it. But right now, preserving the friendship was more important. He returned his gaze to his best friend. "Grace."

"What, Rove?"

"Neither of us told Luke you were pregnant."

"You're just saying that to cover for your wife."

"No, I'm not. I was with her all night and she didn't tell him."

"Then how did he get the idea?" she challenged.

"He may have overheard us talking . . ."

"You were talking about it?" Grace interrupted. "Why is it even any of your concern?"

"Aside from you being our closest friend?" he asked pointedly. "Aside from Luke being Jane's brother? You're the closest thing either of us has to a sister and, believe it or not, we care about what goes on in your life."

Grace folded her arms across her chest and shook her head. "That doesn't excuse anything."

For a long moment, Adam stared at his best friend and wondered what it was going to take to break through the wall she'd built around herself. "Maybe it doesn't," he said finally, "but it's better to have people care about you than to be alone."

The fierceness in her eyes wavered a bit and she raised her chin in an attempt to hide it. "What are you talking about, Rove?"

"I'm talking about you, Grace," he exclaimed, frustrated by her obstinacy. "You used to be happy. You used to laugh, really laugh. You used to do cartwheels for no other reason than the weather was nice and you liked the way the grass felt under your hands. You used to have real friends. Then your family started having problems and you pushed almost everybody away."

"What's the point of this little history lesson?"

"The point," Adam said, glaring at her, "is that the real you is trapped somewhere inside that inner fortress you've built and she's suffocating. Why won't you let anyone in?"

Grace's face darkened, but her eyes said she'd heard every word and knew he was right. Adam knew that meant she was about to lash out. "Just because you let Girardi wrap you around her finger doesn't mean I'm going to . . ."

"What, Grace?" he challenged. "You're not going to what? Let yourself be happy? You're not going to let yourself find love and companionship? Why not? Because your family fell apart when you were eight?"

"Excuse me if I'm not eager to trust people when my own family abandoned me."

"My mother killed herself," he shouted, desperate to get through to her. "She deliberately overdosed on pills. My father and I weren't enough to get her through whatever pain she was feeling. Her sorrow trumped us. She's gone and she's never coming back. That's being abandoned, Grace. If you don't believe me, I have a tombstone and likely a soon-to-be stepmother to prove it."

Adam stood staring at Grace, his face flushed in the aftermath of his tirade. His entire body trembled as he tried to contain the riot of emotions his outburst released. He was vaguely aware that Joan stood behind them, her concern washing over them in waves. But he could only focus on the weird, fluttery feeling in his chest and the tears glimmering in Grace's stricken eyes.

"I know it hurt when all that crap with your family happened," Adam said quietly. "And I empathize with you. But that was almost twenty years ago. Get over it. Let it go. Your family is back together. Put the past behind you and stop letting it fuck with your life." He felt Joan put her hand on his back and he closed his eyes, fighting not to break down completely.

"Adam," Grace whispered.

He shook his head and opened his eyes. "Having relationships and sharing yourself with other people is not easy. It can hurt like hell and it can give you joy. Not just happiness, Grace. Joy. Sometimes even freedom. But your relationships can't be solely on your terms. You have to give to get. You have to . . . you have to take calculated risks. If you don't, you're going to be alone for a long time yet, and I know you don't want that.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to . . . ." Adam stopped. He tried to think up an excuse. It would be rude to just walk away. But he couldn't think of anything. He needed to calm down but he didn't know how. Finally, he shrugged it off. He was too tired to care. "Lock the door on your way out."

Grace and Joan watched him go to the bedroom then looked at each other. Both were too shocked by Adam's flare-up to know what to say. Finally, Grace said, "I didn't mean to . . ."

Joan shook her head, cutting her off. "Tomorrow," she said, not unkindly. When Grace looked back, clearly scared and uncertain, Joan smiled and nodded reassuringly. "Tomorrow," she repeated before following her husband to their bedroom.

She was an abrasive, insensitive, self-involved ass. There were no other words for it. Grace drove back to her apartment, Adam's wounded face as he yelled about his mother following her the entire way. How could she have forgotten about that? How could she have even thought to compare her situation to his? How was she still holding on to what happened when her family was back together when Adam had managed to move on and his family would never be the same?

Grace parked in her spot in front of her apartment and rested her head against the headrest. If Adam, who had always been more sensitive than her, could get over his past, why couldn't she? What was wrong with her that she couldn't let her past go?

She got out of the Jeep, not really wanting to think about her questions when she was so emotionally exhausted. She made her way to her apartment only to stop when she realized that Luke sat in front of her door.

He smiled rather sheepishly as she slowly approached him. Despite the leap her heart did at the sight of him (something it always did though she rarely acknowledged it), she knew she didn't have the emotional wherewithal to go through another round with him. She opened her mouth to say as much but he spoke first.

"What is it about love and romance that makes otherwise rational and intelligent people throw reason and caution out the window?" he queried amiably. "Even a child with only a rudimentary understanding of logic would have figured it out by now. So why am I having such a hard time?"

"What are you babbling about?" Grace asked tiredly as she came to a stop at his feet.

Instead of answering, Luke held his hand out to her. She looked at it with a raised eyebrow. "You need a hand up?" she asked dubiously. "Dude, you're not that old."

He simply smiled and tipped his head toward the empty space next to him. "Join me?"

Grace mentally estimated the likelihood of convincing Luke to leave without having whatever conversation he had in mind. She decided that it was probably less than zero in spite of his apparent pleasantness. With a silent sigh, she took his hand and allowed him to guide her to the space next to him.

She heaved a sigh and waited for Luke to speak. When he didn't, she turned to him. "Are you going to tell me what you were talking about or what?"

Luke chuckled self-consciously and smiled. "Ever since we were teenagers, I've been trying to force you to be ready for a relationship with me. Trying to get you to see me as something other than a temporary make-out partner. Trying to get you to see me as something other than Joan's little brother. I neglected to consider what you might need from me."

Shoulders slumped in exasperated confusion, Grace said, "I'm getting really tired of asking this tonight, but what?"

"In high school, I did something to scare you off," he said by way of explanation. "I still don't know what it was. But the first time you show even the slightest interest . . ."

"I think having sex with you four times in one night is more than slight interest."

"We were both under the influence and feeling a little lustful," he excused. "Anyway, we have sex and I try to convert that into a relationship."

"What's wrong with that exactly?" Grace asked. "Isn't that what you're supposed to do?"

Luke arched an eyebrow at her. She shrugged and arched her brow in challenge. He shook his head and laughed. "Yes, but I skipped, like, five steps in my eagerness."

"There are five steps?" she asked cheekily.

"You know what I mean. I've been trying to rush things," he admitted. "Trust, understanding, some level of synchronicity—those are necessary for a successful relationship. We don't have that."

Grace looked down at her hands resting in her lap. He sounded like he was giving up on the possibility of them being a couple. It was what she'd been pushing for, yet his impending capitulation didn't sit well with her. She frowned as she trying to keep her thoughts out of her voice. "So what are you saying?" she asked, praying her voice sounded neutral.

"I think we should start over, be friends."

She raised her eyes to find him staring at her. She stared back, searching his eyes to see what he really meant. "You don't want to be my friend," she said quietly, her heart giving a horrible, little flip.

"I don't want to be just your friend," he whispered. "There's a difference."

"Oh."

Grace turned away and closed her eyes. How had she gone from being upset over her fight with Adam and Joan to feeling like this in so short a time period? Luke's whispered answer scared her at the same time happiness and relief that he hadn't given up flooded her. What was wrong with her? A relationship between them wasn't a good idea.

Why not? The annoying voice that seemed to have taken up residence in her head asked. What's the worst that could happen if you and Luke had an intimate relationship? She could have laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of the question. Instead she shoved it to the back of her mind. She didn't want to think about it right now.

"I'm going to D.C. for the summer in a couple of weeks," he said, breaking the silence.

"The research assistant thing, right?"

"Yeah." He fell silent only to speak a few minutes later. "I'd like to call you while I'm there."

Grace's eyes flew open. "Excuse me?"

"As a friend," he said with a smile. "Can I call you as a friend?"

Dumbly, she nodded.

"Good." Luke reached out toward her. She helplessly followed his hand with her eyes. She almost sighed as he tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "You look like you've had a long night."

"You could say that."

"You want to talk about it?"

"Slow your roll, Einstein," she scoffed. "We're not there yet."

"Fair enough." He patted her hand and got to his feet. "I should get going. I just wanted to let you know what I was thinking. Good night, Grace."

She watched him leave, unconsciously appreciating the lanky smoothness of his walk. Though she hated to admit it, Grace felt lonelier with each step he took toward his car. When he'd reached the edge of the parking lot, she called, "Hey, Girardi."

Luke turned and started toward her. "Yeah?" he asked when he was in normal speaking volume range.

"Sit with me for a while?"

"Okay," he said with a little nod. He settled into his place next to her. After a moment of silence, he indicated his shoulder and said, "It's available if you want it."

Grace smirked and shook her head. "Thanks. That's good to know."