Back by popular demand! Two updates in the same day, aren't I on a roll? I'm really glad people seem to be enjoying this story. So glad, in fact, that I decided to move my lazy ass off the couch and onto the computer to finish this soon. This is the second to last Chapter, and as always, I love reviews.

I called that number at least ten more times.

It felt as if maybe, if I was insistent enough, somehow, she'd answer. And so I tried. And tried. And tried some more.

Logic intervened eventually, and though I knew that Jude was still out there, though I knew that I could still talk to her another way, I couldn't help feeling like this was the end. This was the ultimate in her giving up on me—she had changed her phone number so that I wouldn't be able to reach her even if I did call. And I knew, knew, that this was intentional. Jude wasn't the type of person who did things without reasons.

And after that I regressed to my days as a pre teenager, locking myself in my room with a note on my door that said, "Sleeping. Please do not disturb." Immature, yes. Unhelpful, yes. But I was not, and, currently, am not—any good to anyone they way I feel right now.

Around two I got into my car, and just began to drive around. First, not really going anywhere. I pulled up in front of a bar, but found that I didn't really have much of an appetite for drinks. And so I drove on, until the Montana liscense plates faded into nothingness. Until the country became city, then country again. By morning, the liscense plates began to read Toronto, and I began to notice my old hangouts. First, the hotel I had given my first show in, then G major. Then my childhood home, then my favorite club. I didn't know why I was here, and in fact, could barely register that I was back home. All I knew was that I had broken down, that I was unable to take the unfamiliarity anymore.

I wound up at her house purely by accident.

And then I was immobilized. She was here. Not fifty feet away, and I could see her, red headed again, in the kitchen, bustling around the stove, presumably preparing breakfast. And I suddenly could understand what Sadie meant.

Jude was always going to be beautiful, nothing was ever going to change that. But she had gotten thinner. The weight she'd lost seemed to make her blue eyes stand out more, but also made her look stressed. But then, considering what I had put her through, stressed was probably an understatement.

Sadie entered the room later, looking both Physically and emotionally tired. And it didn't sit well with me to know that I was the cause of both of their mess ups.

Eventually Jude left, and Sadie began to clean the Kitchen, occasionally stopping to put her hand over her head, and, once, stopping to wipe away tears that had accumulated on her face. Almost two hours passed, and I watched, knowing that my own household had already woken up, and knowing that soon Sophie would be asking the Nanny where her daddy was. And though I had absolutely no intention of leaving her, this was something that I had to do for me.

A hand knocked on the door, and when it opened, I realized that it had been mine. I was meant face to face with a stunned Sadie, who neither opened the door like I had hoped she would, nor closed it in my face like I had been afraid of. Instead, she stared, until I pushed past her.

"I had to see her after… after last night."

I figured there was no point beating around the bush. Sadie would appreciate my being direct.

Though, at present, she seemed too surprised to appreciate much of anything. "So you… So you… God, Tom. You sure know how to pick a bad time."

A bad time? I had ridden down here for I didn't know how many hours. Convenience could kiss my ass at this point.

"She's—she's got a date in a few minutes."

That brought me back to myself.

But before I had time to regroup, She was walking down the stairs. The first thing I saw was the green silk, and I was absurdly reminded of the dress she had worn on her sixteenth birthday. And thinking of her sixteenth birthday reminded me of a certain kiss, and remembering that kiss took my mind all kinds of places it didn't need to go. She was thinner, but she still seemed to glow—in that way that only Jude could. And that look on her face of stunned shock, she looked as if she wanted to pinch me to make sure that I was real. But then, I supposed, it made sense. She had had no sense of me for three months, and suddenly, here I was.

Oh God. Had I really done that to her? Left her to her own imagination about where I was and what I was doing? Left her to wonder if I was even alright? I hadn't had any contact with her for three days and it drove me insane. Had I really done the same thing to her for months? What kind of person did that?

If I was in her place, I would not be able to forgive me. Hell, I wasn't in her place, and I still doubted whether I would be able to forgive me.

The next thing I knew, she was running up the stairs. And all I knew was that I'd do anything, anything, to make it right.

Just one more chapter. One more. One more.