Thanks again for all the kind reviews. I'm glad you guys are enjoying this. I'll leave the rest of my notes until the end of the chapter. Enjoy! (?)

Get away from me, just get away from me
This isn't gonna be easy
But I don't need you, believe me
You got a piece of me
But it's just a little piece of me
And I don't need anyone
These days I feel like I'm fading away
(Have You Seen Me Lately)

December 19, 2015

Frank Sinatra crooned Christmas carols as friends and family of the Girardi clan milled about the room. Eggnog and red wine flowed freely. Laughter punctuated the air, floating between the prattle of awkward small talk and the boisterous stories told by those who'd imbibed too much Christmas spirits. The heady scent of cinnamon and pine filled the house, so warm and cozy with holiday cheer.

As for Grace, she was definitely both warm and cozy—maybe a little too much so. Sandwiched between an exceedingly large Joan and Helen Girardi's overabundance of throw pillows, she had a serious lack of personal space. Joan was bouncing her legs in some sort of anxious tick. She kept bumping Grace's leg as a result, no matter how many warnings Grace sent her way. Even Adam's hand on her knee didn't still her movements. Fed up, Grace tossed the pillows to the floor and scooted closer to the arm of the couch. She indulged in the luxury of sprawling out. On the other side of Joan, Adam was inspired to do the same.

"What? Am I repulsive now?" Joan's voice was mostly kidding, but Grace could detect the undercurrent of hysterical hormones.

"Of course not, Jane. You're beautiful." Adam's face held genuine praise. Grace felt nauseous. Though Adam was normally sappy beyond belief, he'd taken it to a whole other level throughout Joan's pregnancy. He'd found heaping compliments on his wife to be his best protection against stepping on verbal landmines.

"Then why did you both move away?" Joan spoke more to Adam than Grace. Grace snorted as Adam struggled for an answer that would not set Joan off. Grace, however, could easily ignore Joan's mood swings and therefore didn't bother to tread lightly.

"Dude, you were being annoying with all the bouncing and jittering. Are you trying to jiggle that thing out or something?"

Joan gave Grace a sufficiently evil look. "Yes, Auntie Grace, I am. The sooner I pop, the sooner I can make you change dirty diapers."

"Make me change a diaper? There aren't enough methods of torture in this world."

Adam leaned over his wife's protruding stomach, a teasing smile on his face. "Aww, I think Grace is going to make a wonderful aunt."

"Rove," Grace warned. She hated when they ganged up on her. Leaning as far back into the couch as possible, she kept quiet for a minute to let Joan and Adam devolve into their usual mushiness as they inevitably would. She sighed. This party was just as boring as she had feared it would be. So much for the debut of the new and improved I-don't-need-anyone-to-be-happy-so-bite-me-or-die-bitches Grace. She smirked to herself.

"What are you so happy about Polk?" Joan snapped.

"Just counting my blessings, Girardi. Namely, that I had the wisdom to never attend this party before and will never have to attend it again."

"Cha, it's not that bad."

"Oh, but it is."

"C'mon, Grace, there's some really cool people here. Like, see that woman over there? With Mrs. G?" Adam pointed to a woman about Helen's age with long grey hair, dressed all in black save some bold silver jewelry. "She spent the last two years in South Africa studying folk art. She also taught in some of the schools there. She's got some awesome stories." Adam paused, something dawning on his face. "Whoa, I just thought of something I need to ask her. Excuse me." With that, he stood up and walked a few steps away only to turn back. He smiled at Joan. "Jane, honey, do you need anything while I'm up?"

Joan shook her head. Then, Adam was off.

"Do you see what I mean, Grace?" Joan gestured wildly at the now empty seat on the couch. "Weird!"

"Yeah. Weird like a circus animal. Lay off that whip a little bit, Girardi."

Joan rolled her eyes. "You're just jealous."

Her words cut straight to Grace's gut. Grace knew she wasn't serious, just playing at their usual banter. Normally those words would've rolled right off her and into her next verbal jab. But tonight, in her current frame of mind, they hurt. She wasn't quite sure why.

Grace recovered quickly. "Jealous?" she scoffed, " No. I'm just suggesting that for your benefit you let Rove off the leash once in awhile. Because one of these days I won't be able to hold it back anymore."

"Hold what back?" Joan stroked her stomach absently.

"The urge to vomit all over you both."

The expression on Joan's face was enough to make Grace feel better. Standing up, she declared she was in the mood for cheesecake. Then, she walked off leaving Joan beached on the couch with no one to help her up.

"You better save me a piece, Grace Polk, or there will be hell to pay!" Joan's voice rose over the noise of the party. "Do you hear me? Hell to pay!"

Some time later, Grace had made her way back to Joan, who was still marooned on the couch. She brought her friend a peace offering in the form of strawberry cheesecake. Grace sat down with an exaggerated sigh and wondered how much longer she had to stay. People were starting to trickle out; the food was running low. She looked sideways at Joan. The woman was having an X-rated time with her cheesecake, that was for sure.

Suddenly, two laughing children crash landed at Joan's feet. Joan calmly passed her plate to Grace for "safe keeping."

"Aunt Jo! Owen pulled my hair!" A little girl, about four years old, whined as she crawled into her aunt's lap. The resemblance between her and Kevin was easy to see.

"Did not!" Owen protested, stumbling as he tried to climb up next to his sister. He was a little younger, his pudgy cheeks flushed with color. Everyone said he looked more like his mother, Mallory, with his blond hair and vivid blue eyes. But I think he looks like Luke—he has that same curious look on his face, the wheels always turning behind those innocent eyes.

"Aw, Emmy, you're okay." Joan stroked her niece's chestnut hair, dropping a kiss there for good measure. Emma sighed and tried to burrow closer to her aunt. She turned to stick her tongue out at her younger brother when she noticed him still on her heels.

"Emma, now what did Daddy say about behaving at the party?" Kevin wheeled up to his escaped children, scooping his daughter off Joan's lap and onto his. Flustered, Emma tried to smooth out her wrinkled party dress.

"You said if I don't play nice with Owen then Santa will leave gold in my stocking." Her words were matter of fact, filled with slight fear. Grace bit back a snort at the girl's mistake.

"Coal, darling, not gold," Kevin corrected, brushing some of the hair out of her face. "Coal." Emma nodded solemnly in response, mouthing the new word to herself.

Meanwhile, Owen had finally managed to scale the couch. Grace was compelled to smile at him, seeing as how his achievement went unnoticed by the others. He smiled shyly back and ducked his head into Joan's arm. The kid is definitely cute, if you like that sort of thing. An unfamiliar warmth spread through Grace, tugging at her heart. She frowned.

Oh no. This is why I try to avoid this family as much as possible. Their uncanny ability to warp my brain. She quickly shrugged off any lingering tender emotions by listing in her mind all the reasons why procreation is bad. She was clearly on the verge of some sort of mental breakdown here; it was the only explanation for the madness of the past few days. She longed to be back at her apartment, curled up in bed with a good book. Something to give her back some of her sanity. Maybe it was time to dust off her copy of Backlash or another feminist classic.

The party began to wind down. Gone were the casual acquaintances and obligatory invites. The few guests that remained were family, if not in blood in heart. Grace was surprised she made it this long, but Rove had been right. There were some surprisingly interesting people in attendance. Now, however, she started to feel a little out of place. Joan and Adam were seeing Mr. Rove off; the man was positively giddy at his pending grandfather status. Kevin and his wife, Mallory, were chatting with some relatives Grace didn't know. Will was engaged in a hearty discussion with some of his work colleagues while Helen entertained her grandchildren with stories about the ornaments on the Christmas tree. Grace felt a familiar emptiness settle in her heart.

She wandered into the kitchen. She might as well be useful and try to make some sense of the food tray carnage. She'd wait for Joan and Adam to return before saying goodbye to her hosts. After nearly a decade, Grace still wasn't ready to face Helen Girardi on her own. She had broken Luke's heart, pure and simple. Though Helen was always outwardly warm and friendly to her, the cold remembrance of that fact was still in her eyes and it made Grace feel all of two feet tall.

Grace sighed and begun to empty abandoned drinks into the sink.

The sudden ring of the doorbell startled her.

The party got quiet. It was beyond fashionably late to show up now. She heard Will volunteer to answer the door.

She wasn't aware she was holding her breath until Will's surprised "Luke!" echoed through the house.

Her heart dropped. Oh no, oh no no NO.

The rest of the party reacted differently. She could hear their joyous greetings as they all rushed to meet the surprise visitor.

She quickly tossed the plastic cups she held, looking around the room in a panic. The door stared her in the face. Her instinct was to run. Then she heard his voice. Grace froze.

"I'm glad I could make it too…Yeah, our research team shut down for the holidays so there wasn't much I could do there anyway…yeah, yeah…wanted it to be a surprise…Mom, don't cry!...Joan, my goodness you are massive!" Laughter drowned out the rest.

Hearing his voice after so long was almost more than she could handle. It meant that he was really here. That somewhere in that mess of Girardis in the other room was Luke and that scared the shit out of her. What had it been? Four, five years since their last encounter? And that remained their only contact since breaking up and that had been…unexpected. Her stomach flip-flopped at the thought of what could happen this time around.

She wanted to see him again.

Grace wiped her hands on a dishtowel, started for the living room, then stopped. She smoothed down her black pants. She tucked her hair behind her ears. She untucked it again. She adjusted her sweater and necklace. She paused, taking stock. When she went for her hair again, she stopped herself and reminded herself to get a damn grip.

It's just Luke. What's your problem, Polk? You're not a teenager anymore. You didn't even act like this when you were a teenager so get the hell over it and be normal.

It was easier said than done. She was unsure what to do next. Greeting him with the rest of the family would definitely be weird. But waiting here for him to find her in the kitchen might be even weirder. Her eyes darted to the exit again, but her feet were planted to the ground. I knew I shouldn't have come. Damn Joan.

She tuned into the scene in the other room just in time to hear Helen's lilting voice ask, "Luke, aren't you going to introduce us to your friend?"

Grace stopped breathing. Oh. Of course. Without a doubt, she knew what was coming.

"Ah, right." She imagined him blushing. "Everyone, this is my girlfriend—

Grace didn't catch the rest. The blood rushing through her ears made it impossible to hear. Well, what did you expect Polk? A happy reunion after all this time? That one night should've been a gaudy neon sign of a hint. It's over.

She took several deep breaths, willing her head to stop spinning.

Against her better judgment, Grace crept toward the front of the house. Just a glimpse of him, then she was high-tailing it out of there. A crowd had formed around him, half in the foyer and half in the living room. He was easy enough to spot; he stood a good deal taller than most. Grace ignored the way her stomach fluttered when she got a glimpse of his face. He looked…good. His face had lost some of its boyishness; it was now more angular and complimented by the subtle frames of his glasses instead of overwhelmed by them.

Grace fought the grin that tugged at her lips as she got a better look at him. His lean frame had filled out over the years erasing all traces of his former awkwardness. He was totally the geeky albeit attractive professor she knew he would be. Most importantly though, he was still Luke and really hadn't changed much at all.

It was in that moment their eyes met.

Grace was unprepared for it. How once she found herself staring into his clear blue eyes it felt as if her feet had been swept out from under her. She couldn't have torn her gaze from his if the world had exploded around her. Then, he smiled at her and it might as well have.

"Grace," he whispered, his smile widening. She felt giddy, or as close to giddy as Grace Polk allowed herself to get.

But then everyone else followed Luke's gaze and saw her standing there, alone, an outsider in their happy reunion. Those who knew the history between them fell silent, waiting. Those who did not sensed the tension and watched. Luke's smile faded once he realized the awkwardness of the situation.

Grace shifted on her feet. Someone up there really hates me.

Luke cleared his throat and put on a smile nothing like the one he wore before. He moved to close the distance between them. It took all of her strength of will to propel herself forward.

"Grace." He reached for her. Grace didn't know if she should hug him or what. It seemed like he was going for it, so she did as well. It was quick, stiff, and beyond awkward. When he pulled back, he forced another smile. "I didn't know you'd be here."

"I invited her!" Joan suddenly, and rather abruptly, piped up. All eyes swung over to her. Grace was never more grateful for her friend's predilection for public embarrassment, even though her words made Grace feel even more uncomfortable. Still, Joan's interruption seemed to break the tension as people went back to their own conversations.

Grace focused back on Luke, who was watching her with an unreadable expression. She struggled for words. "If I'd have known…I mean, I didn't know you'd be…" She gestured lamely at him, unsure just what she was trying to say. Nice, Grace. Go ahead and admit you actively try to avoid him. Grace hated the cocky air he got when he knew he was getting to her.

He smirked. "It's nice to see you again, Grace."

Grace had to look away. "Yeah, you too."

Silence fell between them. Grace hated small talk, especially in a situation like this where miles of issues lay between them.

She thanked every known god when Helen interrupted them. "Luke! Would you mind putting your luggage upstairs?"

Luke gave her an apologetic look. "I should…" He gestured toward the stairs.

"Yeah," she agreed. She forced a smile. "I'll see you later." He nodded, turned, and walked away.

Grace sighed. She needed to get out of there. A gentle hand on her shoulder stopped her flight.

"Grace." She turned to see a sympathetic Joan. "I'm sorry; he said he wouldn't be able to make it."

Grace shrugged. "Whatever, no big deal."

Joan looked skeptical but said nothing. Nervously, she glanced to the left. Grace followed her gaze and immediately regretted it. Her.

She knew she'd have to acknowledge her presence sooner or later, though she was hoping for much later. Like after she had a prefrontal lobotomy.

"Your basic nightmare, huh?" Joan said with disgust as they eyed the woman. Grace had to agree, a scowl forming on her face. The woman was tall and shapely, blonde hair and blue eyes. Her long hair shimmered in the light of the fireplace as she chatted with Kevin and Mallory, a blinding smile on her face.

"Can you believe she just got off a cross-country flight? I hate her." Joan glowered, self-consciously adjusting her maternity dress. "She's his frickin' lab assistant, for crying out loud. And no one should be that tan in December. I don't care if they live in California!" Grace knew Joan's tirade was partly for her benefit, and for that she was thankful. The easiest thing for Grace to do was hate someone.

"Science Barbie," Grace muttered. For the first time since high school, Grace felt totally inadequate. That was it. She was a stranger to herself. "I need a drink."

"I'm already there, my friend." Joan handed her a tumbler full of gold liquid. Grace gave her a harsh look; the woman was pregnant, after all. Joan rolled her eyes. "For you, Grace. Now drink up. I'm living vicariously."

Grace couldn't argue with that. She took a shot; it burned all the way down. "Uhh! That is awful." Wiping her mouth, she tried to pass the glass back to Joan, who ignored it.

"Dad's scotch."

"Yeah. I got that." Grace crinkled her nose. She'd never been much of a drinker. Credit her mother, the raging alcoholic, for turning her off from the stuff. A glass of wine or a beer now and then and that was basically it. Except, of course, for drastic situations such as these. She discretely abandoned the still half-full tumbler on a table. She could already feel the scotch buzzing in her system.

Joan studied her carefully. "Are you okay, Grace?"

"I'm fine," she snapped, instantly regretting it. Joan seemed to understand, though, and offered her a comforting smile.

"If you need to talk about it—

"I'm losing my mind. What is there to talk about?" Grace couldn't tear her eyes off Science Barbie despite the unmistakable coils of jealously in her stomach. She wanted to run screaming from the room, but somewhere in the back of her mind she knew that meant she wouldn't see Luke again and so she didn't. And that was the only reason why. I need to be committed!

Joan raised an eyebrow. "Grace," she warned. Then her voice softened, "You know I'm here for you."

You can do this. Maybe talking about it will help. It will sound ridiculous once you say it out loud and then you'll laugh and be normal again.

Grace sighed in defeat. Glancing around the room, she decided they didn't have enough privacy for what she needed to say. She grabbed Joan's arm and pulled her into Will's office, ignoring Joan's cries of protest.

Once they were safe, she turned to Joan, looking her dead in the eye. "Promise you won't freak."

Joan eyed her warily. "Oh, I'm not the one freaking out here."

Grace gave her a dirty look. "Promise?"

Joan nodded, so Grace ventured on. Her hands were shaking. "So, I was thinking the other day. A lot. About what we talked about." She searched Joan's face for understanding. Joan gestured for her to continue.

"So maybe for some unknown, insane reason…maybe I've suffered a head injury or something, but…" She took a deep breath. "I am still hung up on Luke." Grace rushed out the last few words, bracing herself for Joan's inevitable overreaction.

Joan closed her eyes and took a slow breath. She muttered something to the sky. Grace waited. C'mon, Girardi, tell me I'm crazy. Instead, Joan got a resigned look in her eyes. She placed her hand on Grace's shoulder.

"I suspected as much, Grace."

Grace's whole body deflated. Great, just great. Joan, the clueless wonder, suspected. I might as well take out a friggin' billboard. "Tell me I'm pathetic."

Joan smothered a laugh. "You're not."

"I am."

"Well, yeah, I guess you kind of are." They both smiled. Grace felt a little better. Putting it out there for Joan of all people hadn't diminished what she was feeling as she'd hoped, but it did make the weight a little lighter.

"What do I do?" Am I actually partaking in 'girl talk' at almost thirty years old? It just keeps getting worse and worse.

Joan sighed. "Tell him, Grace. That's the only way to know for sure."

Grace shook her head. "No. Next option."

"Write him a letter?" Joan's eager expression put violent thoughts in Grace's mind.

"Yeah, sure, Jane Austen. I'll just go sharpen my feather." Grace started to pace the room.

Joan shot her a nasty look. "That doesn't even make sense." Grace shrugged. "Okay, tell me, do you have any ideas?"

Grace looked around the room, a brilliant solution blossoming in her head. "Where does your dad keep his gun?"

"Grace!"

"Seriously, Joan! No one would blame you! You're a hormonal pregnant woman acting in self-defense. I made an attempt to steal your baby from the womb and claim it as my own. Classic soap plotline that always works."

Joan grabbed her hands, eyes sympathetic. "Okay, first of all? I didn't know you watched soaps. And second of all, no I will not shoot my best friend."

"It'd be a mercy killing, like with rabid animals." Grace was desperate.

"No."

"Damn." She felt what little hope she had left for a return to sanity seeping away. She looked up at Joan, utterly lost.

"You're going to have to face him, Grace." Joan's words were gentle, knowing. "Just try and talk to him. Test the waters."

Grace looked away from her. "What about Science Barbie?"

Joan's mouth quirked up. "Please, like she has anything on you, the unparalleled Grace Polk. Besides, Luke adores you."

"Used to. Past tense."

"Are you sure about that?"

Grace sighed. She needed to think about this, make some sense of the mess in her head. She moved toward the door. Joan started to say something, but Grace held up her hand to stop her. "I just…I need some air."

Joan nodded and watched her go.

TBC

A.N.: Okay, so that was a beast of a chapter to write! A beast, I tell you! I'm still not entirely satisfied (am I ever?) but it was time to move on. Funny, I had this entire thing written but thought it was way too long. There used to be even more scenes with the Girardi fam, but the flow was way off so I went crazy, slashing and burning most of the chapter then rewriting it and still ended up with nearly 8 pages. deep breath I wasn't going to include that last J/G scene but I couldn't bring myself to cut it. For some reason, I needed to torture Grace in this chapter. Don't worry, she'll be rewarded in the end! Anyhoo, hope you guys made it through this one okay. The next chapter will be better, I promise!