Draco Malfoy stifled his yawn as he looked out across the golden and ivory ballroom at the witches and wizards gathered together for the charity event. Some mingled along the sides of the room, others danced in the center beneath the massive chandelier, and still more nibbled at finger foods at tables covered in white cloths and topped with ornate centerpieces set up on the far side.

Draco stood alone in his black tuxedo, his hands behind his back, but he smiled pleasantly and shook the hand of every man who approached him, dipped his head and held the fingers of every lady. He chatted easily with everyone in the room, ignoring the occasional, veiled barb. He did not have any fond feelings for anyone in attendance, did not consider even a fifth of them as friends, but he smiled and played his role as the reformed Malfoy heir like he was supposed to.

One caught more flies with honey, after all.

Draco smirked to himself as the old mantra flitted through his mind, which naturally wandered to the girl who had said it. He wondered if she would laugh to hear that he had embraced it for his own. No, he thought. She wouldn't laugh. She would smile warmly, as she always did. It would make her happy that someone else had adopted her mother's mantras, though he doubted her mother had meant for them to be used in this way—for subterfuge, for manipulation, and all manner of selfish reasons. But it was the best that Draco could do. He couldn't force himself to like these people or respect their causes, so he had to pretend in order to keep the Malfoy name afloat.

Draco nodded politely to a Half-blood wizard who passed by with his Muggle-born wife on his arm, two newcomers to the Ministry's reformation movement, slowly but steadily breaking down the rigid rules imposed by Pureblood society's—what the Ministry called—"backwards thinking about tradition." So much had changed over the five years since the Dark Lord's demise, but it wasn't yet a perfect system, and there were still plenty of Pureblood families fighting back against the reform.

Blessedly, his parents weren't among them. They had spent the early days scowling as news trickled in, but now they rarely spoke about it, which was a sure sign that they were trying to cope with the changes. It was hard for them. They had been indoctrinated since birth, had lived with the rhetoric their entire lives. So, they had chosen to remain withdrawn from society, living out their lives between the manor and the country estate, leaving Draco as the proprietor of Malfoy Manor and the head of the family in all but legal documentation. He knew they didn't agree with the causes he threw their money at, but they were pleased to have the Malfoy name regain some of its status.

Draco cleared his throat, tightened his tie, adjusted his suit jacket, and smoothed back his hair. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked up through the glass ceiling at the dark and star-peppered sky, parts of it masked with wisps of grey clouds. He had never given the stars too much consideration before he met her, but now they would probably always remind him of her.

Was she looking at the sky right now through one of her telescopes? He had wondered such a thing often through the years.

Draco lowered his gaze and watched the crowd shift. It was still early in the evening but he found himself counting the seconds until he could leave. It was stifling, smiling for so many people who saw him as an overflowing sack of galleons, not a friend. When he had been dating Astoria, at least he had one ally in the room, someone to talk to. It helped the time pass more quickly. But they had been broken up for half a year now, and the strain was beginning to wear on him in a way it hadn't used to.

He took a deep breath, contemplating the need for him to continue to make appearances at every function…when suddenly a few guests walked by, clearing his view, and his breath stalled in his lungs, as though all of the air had been sucked out of the room.

Standing halfway across the ballroom and talking to some random fop was Amaris Grey.

Draco's heart slammed against his ribcage. She was here. She was here, in London, at his charity ball. And she was gorgeous. She wore a stunning sapphire evening gown slashed with lace and beadwork that twisted into beautiful patterns, showing the slightest bit of skin in all of the right places. The dress had long, lacey sleeves with an off-the-shoulder neckline and it clung to her body except where it fanned out around her calves. Her white-blond hair was twisted up onto her head, exposing her slender neck.

Blood started racing through his body as familiar desires instantly flared to life.

Draco started moving before he knew what he was doing, his throat constricting, making it difficult to swallow. He was brought back to his mother's summer party ten years ago when he first became aware of just how gorgeous she was. The key difference was that she was no longer staring at the floor, stiff and demure. She still held her hands delicately in front of her, but she was smiling brightly, laughing, and—Merlin—she was gorgeous.

"Amaris," he began, forgetting his manners completely and interrupting the wizard who was talking to her. Her eyes—those beautiful, blue eyes—widened in shock as she turned to look at him. He grinned at her and harkened back to that summer as he said, "Funny seeing you here."

The wizard she was speaking to whirled around in surprise, but Draco didn't spare him a single glance, keeping his focus on Amaris.

After a moment, her shock turned into a smile. "I was invited," she said.

"I wasn't suggesting you were gatecrashing," he teased. Though if she was invited, it meant she had either made a considerable donation to the foundation or one of the other guests had made her his plus one, an idea that settled uncomfortably in the back of his mind. "Though I am surprised to see you. I didn't realize you were back in London."

She had left England four years ago for the Magical Center for Astronomical Research in Hawaii. The last he heard, she was still there. What had brought her back?

"I arrived only a few days ago."

"For good or are you just visiting?"

"I'm not sure yet," she answered quietly.

They stared at one another until the wizard beside them mumbled an awkward farewell and rushed off. Draco had completely forgotten he was there. Amaris held in her laughter and waved goodbye, but Draco kept his eyes on her, his brain leapfrogging through a million things he had to say in order to keep her there with him. He should be kind, sincere, should fall on his sword, but when she met his gaze again, he found it impossible not to scoff like his old self.

"He was a little old for you, wasn't he?" he observed, glancing away in feigned boredom.

"And married," she added. His eyes snapped back to hers. "He's a cosmologist. We met at the Center a few years ago. His wife taught my Magical Astrometry class."

Draco snorted. Just because that wizard was not her date did not mean she didn't have one. "And whose arm are you on tonight?"

"My own." She looked flustered as she explained, "I made a last-minute donation, and I'm afraid they felt obligated to invite me…"

Draco was so relieved that he finally smiled, eyeing her up and down before saying, "Then on behalf of the Foundation, allow me to thank you for your generosity."

She just nodded.

"It's good to see you," he said after a moment, and he swore she blushed.

"It's good to see you, too, Draco."

They stared at one another again. It was surreal standing in front of her after all this time, as if those five, long years didn't lie between them, as though it were yesterday that he had last seen her. Draco had known even when he started dating Astoria that he would always love Amaris, but he had believed it would be a nostalgic sort of love. Yet here they were, staring at one another, and every single unrequited feeling he'd had for her was instantly blazing like fire in his veins, and he felt like his heart was going to explode, like he couldn't breathe, like they were the only two people in the room.

He wanted to apologize for every horrible thing he had ever said to her. He wanted to shower her with compliments, to show her how much he had changed, but as he stared at her, none of those kind and gentle words he had planned to treat her to should they ever reunite came to mind. Instead, he felt shadowed by a reflection of his old self, arrogant and prideful, wanting to control the tone of the conversation, clawing for the upper hand only because he felt so far beneath her.

"You look well," she observed politely.

"You look stunning," he immediately replied.

This time, her blush was unmistakable. His gaze flicked over her person and he couldn't help but note her complete lack of jewelry. She wasn't even wearing her mother's moon-drop. What did that mean? She no longer needed to follow the Pureblood tradition of making a show of her availability, but with how dolled up she was, the lack of jewelry seemed intentional.

She cleared her throat. "How have you been?"

"Fantastic," he lied on impulse. Fantastic was a stretch. He was not unhappy, exactly, but neither was he happy. "You?"

"I've been well."

They were quiet again. Draco knew he needed to say something—he couldn't allow her to walk away from him again, but he was too busy battling his old pride—when Amaris suddenly chuckled.

"It's been so long," she said, "and yet, standing here in front of you, it's almost as though no time has passed."

Draco smirked, feeling grounded, and he knew exactly what to do next. He slipped his hand out of his pocket and offered it to her. She took it without hesitation, stepping toward him at the same time that he moved closer to her. Her free hand landed on his shoulder and his wrapped around her waist.

"It's been a long time since I've danced with anyone," she confessed bashfully. "I'm afraid there is a possibility that I might step on your toes."

"At least I've been warned," he said, and then he swept her onto the dance floor.

Nostalgia blasted him like a spell to the chest. They glided smoothly between the other couples, and not once did she look away from his gaze, not even to glance at her feet. They didn't talk for an entire song, just moved together as naturally as they always had. She was so small in his arms, so delicate, so familiar. It raked him raw—holding her like that. Made him remember with vivid clarity every single fantasy he had ever had of her, made him feel every tender and salacious emotion.

"What have you been up to all these years?" she asked as the song rolled into a new one and their tempo switched up.

"This," he answered easily, nudging his chin to indicate the room. "Dances and dinners and various functions." He briefly explained to her his work with local charities and reformation groups. "It's all quite boring," he assured her.

"That can't be true," she exclaimed with a smile. "How could it be boring with all of these fancy parties?"

He grinned like his secret held so much mystery, but the truth was that he hated these events, that he felt like an outsider, that he was lonely. He knew there were many who felt he deserved to feel that way, and many more who just had no idea because Draco refused to reveal his weaknesses to them. And he wasn't about to complain to Amaris, not now.

"It's tolerant, at best," he threw out. "Not like your stars, I imagine."

She immediately brightened and, as they continued to dance, she explained about her three years studying at the research facility and then her post-graduate internship, going through the details of her field of study and the work she got to do. He soaked up the sound of her voice, the way her face lit up with excitement as she talked. And all the while, there wasn't a hitch in her steps.

"What brought you back to London?"

She glanced away and gently shrugged. "Ember had been pestering me to come home," she said evasively. "She was visiting me at the Center just last week, told me how much her family wanted to see me. She even brought me a copy of the Daily Prophet…"

Draco snorted. "If she was trying to inspire you to return, the Prophet will have the opposite effect."

A small, secretive smile flashed on her mouth and then was gone. "Well, it worked…"

"Mm," he hummed, leading her into a spin. She twirled away from him and then back again with flawless footwork. "You haven't stepped on my foot once, you know."

She chuckled. "Only because you lead so well."

"You've said that before," he pointed out. "Not that I'm disputing your quite accurate assessment of my abilities, but what makes me so much better a leader than other wizards?"

For a moment, he wasn't sure she'd answer. She seemed hesitant, shy, but then she spoke.

"Other wizards always pulled me around the floor, but you move with me," she said. "Ever since our first dance, I've always felt I could trust you to lead me into the next step."

The words hit him with such force that she might as well have punched him in the gut. Draco's hand curled tighter on her waist, slipping onto her lower back. He didn't say anything, only drew her in a single inch, and they danced in companionable silence until the song flowed into a new one. He was warm from so much dancing and the desire thrumming through him, and he knew she had to be feeling at least some of the heat. The gentlemanly thing to do would be to offer her a drink, but he didn't want to stop holding her.

"You said you were in Hawaii for four years. What did you do that year after Hogwarts?"

"I had to get my uncle's estate and finances in order, and I spent time with Ember and her family. Then, I traveled to India," she said, and Draco tensed. "My parents are buried here, but I wanted to go to where they died, to make peace with what happened."

Draco softly asked, "And did you?"

Amaris nodded. "Yes," she answered with a smile. "And then I visited Locke in America."

"You're still in touch, then?" he asked. She nodded again. Draco grinned. "And how is the troll?"

She tsked. "Draco…"

His grin widened into a smile. He hadn't known just how much he missed her playful scolding until he heard it again, and it made his chest swell with affection.

"She's well. She's working in her father's department at the Magical Congress in America."

"And Ballard?" he asked. He already knew the witch had been playing Quidditch on her sister's professional team, but he didn't want Amaris to draw any conclusions about why he knew such details, to know that he had tried to be close to her by keeping up with her friends.

"She's a new Chaser for the Montrose Magpies," she gushed proudly, and he pretended to be surprised.

"Coming up in the world, are they?" he mused, and Amaris rolled her eyes, a smile quirking a corner of her mouth.

"Do you still talk with Blaise or Gregory?"

Draco was surprised she didn't ask about Theo. Had the two of them had a falling out? Theo had never mentioned Amaris to him once. He initially thought it was because his friend was being overly sensitive of his feelings, but perhaps it had been his own feelings he was trying to spare.

"Rarely," he admitted. "Though I heard they're both doing well. Blaise just got engaged and Goyle—" He didn't know what Goyle was up to. The rift that had been created when he and Amaris had gotten engaged had only widened after Crabbe's death. "—left England, last I heard." He gauged her reaction as he said, "Theo just got a job with an inventor."

Her face lit up. "Did he? That's wonderful!" she exclaimed. Draco's brow twitched in wry confusion. If she was so clearly happy, why hadn't she asked about him? "What about Pansy? Do you still keep in touch with her?"

Draco took a moment to organize his response before giving it. It had taken two years before they spoke after the Dark Lord's demise. Pansy was the first person to receive one of his apologies, and she didn't immediately accept it. But after some time had passed, she was able to forgive him.

"I do," he said. "She works at the Ministry now. We meet for lunch occasionally, though not for some time lately. She's pregnant."

Amaris gasped. "She is?"

He nodded. "She got married last year to an auror—a whirlwind of a romance, so I've been told."

"Is she…happy?"

Draco thought about Pansy's bright smile as she proudly displayed her enormous belly, happily taking spoonfuls of dessert as they chatted about silly memories from their Slytherin days. He had never asked her what happened after leaving school and she had never told him, but somewhere along the way, she had finally learned to love herself.

"Yes," he answered, and Amaris looked relieved.

"And," she cleared her throat, "how are your parents?"

"They're well," he assured her, and she smiled.

As the song came to an end, Draco slowed to a stop, though he didn't immediately release his dancing frame.

"Would you like to get something to drink?" he asked.

"Please," she said with a nod. He smiled and released her waist, but before he could move away, she held onto his hand. "Draco. I'm proud of you."

He glanced back at her.

"I wanted to tell you earlier. Everything you've done with your life, I'm so proud of you."

He grinned. "I've surprised everyone, that's for certain."

"I never expected less," she told him, and his heart felt squeezed inside his chest. He tightened his hold on her hand.

"You were always too kind for the rest of us, Amaris."

She suddenly laughed. "There's no such thing as too much kindness."

"Did your mother tell you that?" he asked. Her expression softened and she nodded. Draco wanted to kiss her. Instead, he held her hand as he led her off of the dance floor.

They snagged glasses of champagne from a passing server and then went onto the balcony to cool off. They didn't speak at first, just sipped at their drinks and enjoyed the cool breeze. She gazed up at the sky as he gazed at her, at her slender figure in that stunning dress that brought out the blue in her eyes. He wanted so badly to touch her, to kiss her. Every ounce of attraction he'd ever held for her had seemingly multiplied ten-fold.

"You're gorgeous, do you know that?" he murmured. She blushed, dropping her gaze to her champagne glass. "You said you weren't sure," he prompted. She looked at him, brows slightly furrowed. "About staying."

He had to know. He was already making plans against his better judgment. He would start with an innocent date—dinner tomorrow, or perhaps brunch on the weekend—and work his way up to theatre tickets and visits to the country. He would have to call his jeweler in the morning to draw up plans for suitable gifts… He didn't know where it would lead, only knew that he had no intention of letting her walk out of his life again.

"Oh." She hesitated. "The Center offered me a full-time position just before I left."

A shot of panic rushed through him, but he kept his expression calm in spite of his racing heart. "It was your dream, after all," he murmured. She just hummed her agreement without meeting his eyes. "Is there someone waiting for you to return?"

"Someone…?"

"Special," he answered. Understanding immediately dawned on her face and she shook her head. There was a beat of silence before he asked, "Was there ever anything serious with anyone?"

She was so beautiful. He couldn't imagine that flocks of wizards hadn't tripped over themselves to ask her out.

"No," she answered. "We were all too busy to think about romance."

Draco was quite sure what she really meant was that she was too busy to think about romance, and the men had been merely too shy to approach her.

"There was one wizard, in my third year. He was an intern," she said, and Draco wasn't sure he wanted to hear what she was about to say, but he couldn't bring himself to interrupt her. "We only went on a few dates before I realized it wasn't going to work." Her expression turned sheepish. "I didn't mean to, but I kept comparing him to you."

Draco smirked, feeling a surge of satisfaction rocket through him. "To me?" he prompted, and he relished in the way she looked so embarrassed.

"Yes. I don't mean in the way he looked, but in the small things. For example, he never pulled out my chair when we sat down to dinner—I didn't mind, of course—but I remembered that you always did it. He didn't know how to dance. And he was so completely uncritical of me that it was almost suspicious," she joked. "Before long, I realized that our time together was mostly me thinking about you. It wasn't fair to him, so I broke it off."

Draco's heart was thundering in his chest as he took a step closer to her. He knew this wasn't a confession. He was her first—boyfriend was a stretch. Romantic partner, perhaps?—and that it was natural for her to take their experiences together into her future encounters. But that she had been thinking of him at all gave him hope…

"What about you?" she asked nervously. "Were you ever serious with anyone?"

"No," he immediately replied. The way she looked at him made him suspect she somehow knew about Astoria, but he wasn't lying. He had never been serious about her. "And I'm not seeing anyone." He took another step toward her and studied her expression, saw the familiar flicker of nervousness in her eyes. It had been six years, but there was so much about her that hadn't changed. He could still read her like a book, still found her quarks ridiculously attractive. "You're beautiful," he said and she looked down at her feet, her cheeks turning pink again.

"Why do you keep telling me that?"

"Because I want you to believe it."

Her gaze snapped up to his, wide-eyed and full of hope and fear and something else he couldn't identify.

"You never believed me," he whispered.

"I know… But I wanted to."

She had wanted to, but she hadn't been able to, because every compliment he had given her had been laced with disdain, had been revoked with some other cruelty.

"Amaris," he began seriously. "I treated you terribly."

She blinked at him, seemingly unsure how to respond. And then suddenly her expression lightened and her brows lifted ever so slightly, amusement sparkling in her eyes. "Is that an apology?"

"No," he snorted. "Did it sound like one? It was admittance. Be patient, will you? I'm admitting I treated you wrong. You deserved so much better."

"I forgave you a long time ago, Draco."

"I know, but I never apologized, and you deserve that from me."

"All right." She set her champagne glass on the railing as she wrestled her smile into a serious expression. "Well, if we're doing this properly, you had better be specific."

Draco grinned. "I'm sorry, Amaris, that I called you unforgiveable names, said unconscionable things to you, and tormented you endlessly. And, since we're doing this properly, allow me to beg your forgiveness."

She nodded and cleared her throat. "Go ahead."

It was all Draco could do not to laugh. His grin widened as he said, "Please, I beg you to forgive me."

"I forgive you," she said without hesitation.

His smile faltered then faded as a familiar feeling rushed in—that he didn't deserve her forgiveness. "I was horrible to you," he whispered.

"Draco—" she began, as if she meant to argue with him, but he cut her off.

"I threatened you," he hissed, "the same way he did."

He had told her he could make her leave the Battle for Hogwarts, implying he would use the Imperius Curse to do it, just like her uncle meant to use the curse to force her to marry Goyle.

She studied him carefully before saying, "To save me, not sell me."

"It doesn't matter—"

"It matters a great deal to me," she interrupted him, "because you didn't do it. I knew you wouldn't, and you didn't. You said it because you were desperate, and after that day, I never gave it another thought. Don't punish yourself for things that are forgotten."

"I never forgot," he said, "all of the ways I hurt you. And I never got a chance to make it right. If I had, maybe you would've chosen me."

"What are you talking about?"

"To marry me or not. That day at the Ministry, I wanted to give you a choice."

She exhaled a nervous laugh. "I…I didn't know you were an option."

He frowned. "What?"

If you want her to choose you, you must first give her a choice, his father had once told him. That's what he'd done, hadn't he? No, he hadn't told her that he loved her or admitted he wanted to marry her, but had she really not known?

"Draco, you shouted at me that I no longer needed to marry you. You said I didn't have a reason to be there and walked away. What was I supposed to think?"

"Are you really going to pretend you had no idea that I was madly in love with you?" he scoffed.

Her eyes grew big as galleons. "What?" she breathed out in horror. "No." She shook her head. "No, you weren't. You—"

"What? Hated you?" he asked, raising one eyebrow. "Felt guilty? I've never felt either of those things toward you. I was angry because I wanted to be with you but couldn't—first, because of Pureblood values, and then because I knew you'd hate me when you found out what I'd done." He shook his head, exhaling a mirthless chuckle. "You made me petty in my jealousy every time another wizard so much as looked at you, made me furiously possessive with every little smile you gave to someone else—even my own friends. Did you really think I did it out of guilt?"

"You never told me," she whispered, shaking her head as though trying to deny his words.

No, he hadn't. He had been too prideful to admit it. Had been too terrified she wouldn't want him back. He had been a coward.

"I let people think we were together because I wanted it to be true. I agreed to marry you because I wanted to be with you, because I wanted to protect you. I wanted to protect you because I loved you." He drew in a sharp, deep breath. "And you were always so careful never to give me any hope you might feel the same."

"Draco," she breathed in shock, "of course, I felt the same."

Draco went completely still. She… What?

"Not at first…" she admitted. "I thought you were attractive, but you were so mean to me that I never gave it a second thought. Not until Christmas our Fifth Year, when we went for a walk. Talking with you, laughing with you—it was so easy. I started falling for you, and I was so horrified at myself for letting it happen, for going down that road, because I knew you didn't feel the same, would never feel the same. There were times when I thought that maybe you liked me, too, but you were just as careful to never admit to having feelings for me."

"Amaris—"

"You kept taking so many pieces of me, and I was willing to give them to you, but I was so afraid you'd laugh at me if I told you the truth." She took a deep, shaky breath. "So, when you told me I didn't have a reason to be there anymore, I ran away."

Draco stared at her in regret. In his youthful selfishness, it had never occurred to him that she had been through just as much trauma as he had, that she wouldn't be able to navigate her emotions either. She had always seemed so strong, so put together, that he had unfairly assumed she was capable of more than was reasonable.

"If I hadn't said what I did that day, would you have married me?" he whispered, afraid of the answer, of the pulse of silence that followed.

"Yes."

"Did you want to?"

"Yes."

Draco didn't know what was worse—that neither of them could admit their feelings for the other, or that it had separated them for five years. But would it have mattered? His healer had been right. Amaris wouldn't have been able to save him. He hadn't trusted her enough, hadn't trusted in her kindness or friendship. Even if she had married him, that wouldn't have changed. His doubt would have dragged her down with him until bitterness and hatred spoiled every happy moment they had. He would have made her as miserable as he was. He had needed to change himself, to heal, before he could have a healthy relationship with anyone.

He spent so many years wishing she had married him that it shocked him to suddenly realize he was glad she hadn't. If he couldn't tell her, even in the face of losing her, that he loved her, he never would have been able to. But he could tell her now. And he wasn't going to wait and lose his opportunity again.

Draco opened his mouth to tell her the truth, but she spoke first.

"When Ember visited me last week," she began, her voice trembling. "She did bring me a copy of the Prophet, only the issue was five months old. It was your picture on the front page." She was shaking, trying hard to hide it, but he could see how nervous she was. "The article was about your breakup with Ms. Greengrass, how you were once again the most eligible bachelor in London."

Draco's heart thundered in his ears as he stared at her. He vaguely remembered the article, had been annoyed to have his business so publicly discussed. Well, it worked… she had said when he mentioned the Prophet would be sure to drive her away from coming home. Had it worked because she had realized he was single again?

"I-I turned down the job," she confessed. "I thought I had missed my chance when you and her were… But when I read the article, I hoped that, maybe, we might—"

Draco kissed her so suddenly that she gasped in surprised. His hands wrapped around her cheeks, holding her head against his. "I have been in love with you since I was fifteen years old," he rasped against her mouth, "and I still am."

He kissed her again, his heart shattering against his ribcage, his blood racing like lightning in his veins. She wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned into the kiss, and he thought he would die. Finally. After all these years, he had been able to say it. After all this time, he was free. And if he regretted anything, it was that she had been the braver one and confessed first. After everything he had put her through, she had deserved to hear him say it first.

Draco drew back enough to whisper, "I am in love with you, Amaris," and then he kissed her again.

"I am in love with you, Draco," she whispered back.

They kissed until they were breathless, forcing him to withdraw. He smiled, pressing his forehead against hers. She laughed, a soft and delicate sound, her entire face bright red with embarrassment. His hand slid down her cheek to cradle her bare throat, his thumb gently gliding along the bare skin. He felt so at peace. He knew nothing was set in stone, that there were no guarantees everything would work out between them. Maybe too much had changed over the five years they had been apart. Maybe it had been mere teenage hormones that made him believe they were compatible. They would find out, one way or another. But right then, he loved her and, for the first time, she knew it. And she loved him, back.

There was hope of a future for them, after all.


Author's Note: I had hoped to finish this chapter within no more than a day of publishing the last two, as I've been sitting on it for a month now, trying to get it right. But I must have rewritten it five times by now. Thanks for being patient! There's still just a few chapters left before this journey is complete, so I hope you'll hang in there with me. Thank you all so much for your kind words!