"I heard someone's adoption is going to be official soon," Ridge said, walking into Brooke's office and closing the door behind him.

Brooke grinned, nodding her head. "We're just waiting for the judge to set a court date."

"Congratulations!"

"Thank you. As you can tell, I'm pretty excited."

Seeing the kids asleep on the bed, he walked over, pulled up the covers and kissed their cheeks. "Hope seems to be as bad of a sleeper as her sister."

"My back can testify to that."

Ridge grabbed a blanket from the foot of the bed and placed it on the floor. "Take off your blazer and get on the floor," he commented, cracking his knuckles.

"Am I the lucky recipient of the famous Ridge Forrester back rub?"

"Yes, indeed."

"Woo!" she exclaimed, taking off her blazer and quickly walking over to lay on the blanket.

"You don't know how lucky you are or how lucky I got with this technique," he informed her as he began to massage her back through her silk sleeveless shell.

"Ridge," she uttered with a mixture of laughter and disgust.

"What? It's true. It even worked on you a couple of times."

"No, it never did. I just let you think it did. I was going to make love with you anyway. Besides I was hip to your game," she giggled, enjoying her massage.

"What?"

"Storm hipped me to all your tricks. Just like you would've done for Kristen or Felicia if they were dating some scoundrel you didn't like."

"I was no scoundrel."

"You're right. You were more like a tomcat."

Ridge grunted.

She enjoyed these chats with Ridge. Every day he stopped by and talked to her about anything and everything. Sometimes about the past, both before and after she knew him. Sometimes they would talk about whatever was going on in the news, sometimes about work or the kids, or sometimes about nothing at all. She found herself looking forward to his visits, in spite of herself. "Mmm, right there," she groaned.

"Ah, I found the tension spot. Don't worry I'll get all the kinks out," he assured her, concentrating on her left shoulder blade area. "Logan, do you ever regret the past?" he asked, after a few minutes of silence.

And sometimes they discussed deep, thought provoking issues. "No," she answered quickly then explained. "If I hadn't worked that party, I never would have met you or your Father, which meant I wouldn't have had Ric or Bridget, or all of our wonderful, if not brief marriages, and I wouldn't have those two beautiful babies sleeping like angels up there on the bed. With all the heartache and pain our relationship in all its forms has put me through, it has also given me my greatest joys and triumphs. And to quote Dickens, 'It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.' But I wouldn't change one single thing. Do you have regrets?"

"Countless, but that's natural. What I regret most was letting my male ego crow at the idea of raising my own biological son when I already had a son and daughter at home. Finding out Massimo was my biological father, really made me aware of who I am. I am Ridge Forrester because Eric Forrester raised me and loved me not because of the blood that runs through my veins, but unfortunately I learned that lesson too late for Ric's and Bridget's sakes."

"But if you hadn't remarried Taylor, you wouldn't have Phoebe or Stephie and I wouldn't have Little Eric or Hope, and I can't imagine a world without any of them and neither could you."

"I know. I know. I just regret making some very pivotal choices."

Lifting her head off her arms, she turned to Ridge, "Me, too. But at least, you can acknowledge those mistakes and become a better person for them. Some people go their whole lives and never learn. Plus, it's like you said, 'regrets are a part of life.'"

Ridge continued her massage in silence when she lowered her head. The comfortable silence and the long day was lulling Brooke to sleep, until he broke the tranquility.

"You know this is all your fault."

"How so?" she mumbled.

"If you hadn't been so attractive that night I would have no regrets."

"Attractive. Ha! I was wearing a catering uniform, possibly the most unattractive outfit I've ever worn."

Ridge shook his head, although she couldn't see him. "You were hot."

"Please."

"No, you were and I wasn't the only one to notice."

"Ridge- -"

"Did you really think those appetizers you were serving were so good that those men had to have some every time you came back from the kitchen?"

She shrugged her shoulders. She hadn't even noticed the men. "When I looked in your eyes, I didn't see anyone else," she said seriously, then quickly switched to a teasing tone. "What could I have worn that was less attractive?"

"A burka with a veil so I wouldn't have noticed your eyes- -"

"You can still see the eyes- -"

"No, you should have worn a full facial veil. Then I never would have glanced your way."

"Oh, please, sell that to someone who doesn't know you. You hate mysteries. You're the man who would have Ric and Bridget help you search the house for your birthday and Christmas gifts."

He laughed. "You're right, I would have stuck to you like glue trying to get a glimpse underneath the veil. As it was, I periodically wondered what it would take to get you out of that ill-fitting uniform and into- -" he stopped.

"Into what?" she grinned. "Ridge, you naughty boy."

"What?" he asked.

"You know what?"

"You have no idea what you're talking about."

"Sure, I don't."

"You're the one with a dirty mind, Logan, I was going to say into one of my designs. I can't believe you're raising impressionable minors with a mind like that."

"If I didn't know you better, I would almost believe that's what you were going to say."

"If you remember, I was with Caroline."

"Yeah," she said wistfully, "we always had the worst timing."

"I don't think two people could have had worse timing. But at least after some time and distance, we've emerged as best friends."

"Much to the disgust of your Mother and wife."

"I can't help that my best friend is a chick or that she's a bad influence on me."

Brooke laughed. "And that you used to sleep with."

"I don't remember much sleeping going on," he teased.

"Ridge," she whined.

"Ridge," he mimicked. "When did you become such a fuddy duddy? Is this what old age has done to you? Made you a prude? You know what you need?"

"No, please tell me, Mr. Forrester, in all your wisdom, what is it that I need?" Brooke asked, sitting up and facing him.

"A man, then you wouldn't be saying, 'Oh, Ridge,' with your hands clenched over your heart. A real man this time, one who wouldn't be afraid of me or to stand up to me and the rest of the family."

Brooke threw her head back and laughed out loud. "That's the last thing I need or on my mind. Besides, men our age aren't looking for a woman with a preschooler and a toddler and I'm not in the market for any more kids."

"Your true love could walk through the door."

"No, he couldn't. I don't know if I believe in true love any more. If I get married again when the kids are a lot older, I would marry for companionship."

"Companionship?" he asked in disbelief. Was this his Logan talking? He expected an answer like that from Taylor or Kristen, but not a fiery, passionate woman like his Logan. "What about love?"

"Love, too, but that can come later, companionship first."

Ridge shook his head. "Where's the passion in companionship?"

"I would gladly take companionship over love and passion any day. Companionship means that they respect me, will stand by my side, defend me, and be there for me. Love doesn't guarantee that and passion fades in time," she replied firmly, as if she had given her answer a lot of thought.

His brown orbs stared into her green ones. "I'm so sorry." He had done this to her.

Reaching out her hand, she rubbed his arm. "Ridge, there's nothing to be sorry about."

"Yes, there is. You can't- -"

"Unca Ridge," a sleepy voice said from the bed.

"Unc Rid," Hope screeched, pushing off the blankets, jumping off the bed and flying into Ridge's arms.

"Hello, Princess. Did you sleep well?"

She nodded and buried her face in his neck.

"Hope, no more jumping off the bed," Brooke told her daughter as her son slowly made his way to Ridge. "Hope," she said again when the toddler didn't respond.

"Yes, Mama."

"Thank you."

Little Eric fell into Ridge's arms.

"How would you two like pizza for dinner?" Ridge asked the two bundles of joy in his arms.

The kids screamed.

"Ridge, don't you have to go home soon?"

"Nope, I was banished from the house for Phoebe's and Steph's slumber party. I was told not to come home until everyone was asleep." Turning his attention away from Brooke and back to the kids, he asked, "So do you want pepperoni and cheese?"

"Yes," they responded in unison.

"Three for pepperoni," Ridge informed Brooke.

Brooke raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

"Late night pizza calls don't fall off like they use to."

Patting his stomach, Ridge replied, "I know, but I feel like living dangerously. Mommy, order the pizza. Where are the toys?"

Little Eric and Hope scrambled off his lap and dove under their mother's bed and shoved out toys. Brooke watched Ridge pulled into a rousing game of cops, robbers, and Barbies as she ordered the pizza. Some days, she really felt Ric and Bridget smiling down on her, on all of them. And this evening had turned this day into one of those times.