My eyes open slowly. I feel oddly disoriented. It takes me a few long moments to realize that I slept so deeply that it almost feels like I didn't sleep at all. Or like I'm still asleep. I'm not sure yet if it's a good feeling or a bad feeling, or if I should just go back to sleep. I blink slowly, my eyelids falling shut again. Sleep seems like a good option.

I sigh and burrow beneath the blankets, reveling in the warmth as it soothes my tired body. The gentle heat is definitely telling me to go back to sleep.

The blankets shift a little and my eye cracks open. They shift again and I'm suddenly alert, surprised to realize there's a body behind mine. I don't have to look to know it's Josh—I know everything about the way his body feels against mine. The surprising part is that he's actually in bed next to me.

I blink hazily at the clock on my side of the bed; it's not even five yet. I should still be asleep. And yet…the feeling of Josh curled up behind me is so novel at this point that I don't want to miss it. I don't even want to pinch myself in case I'm actually still asleep.

We did spend the day together, though—I know that much. He went back to our apartment for a few minutes to grab his laptop and some files and met me in the hotel lounge bearing coffee and breakfast. I wouldn't let us work in my room because I knew I'd have zero restraint and I needed to see if we could just spend time together. He didn't push; I have to give him that. He sat there at our little corner table and minded his own business, tapping away at his keyboard between phone calls. His only request was that I check out of the hotel, which I eventually agreed to with the understanding that I would check in again if I didn't think I could handle being at home.

He took me out to dinner last night, too, after we'd had enough of staring at computer screens and pointless phone calls. We went to the same place we ate the night we got engaged, though I'm not sure if that was because he was trying to make me feel nostalgic or if it's because it's usually easy for us to get into. Either way, it was nice to do that with him again. I hadn't let myself think about how much I depended on those quiet moments with him at the end of the day, but it was like a breath of fresh air after feeling like I'd been drowning for so long. To be able to just sit and catch up with him felt like I'd found myself again.

I take another moment to try to remember where we are when it occurs to me that we're in our bed. I've already looked at my alarm clock. The mattress isn't the super soft one I've slept on the last several nights, but the firmer one we bought almost two years ago, the one we got because Josh says he's old and needs the extra support. The blankets have the familiar lived-in feel instead of the pristine-looking hotel bedding.

We're home. Josh is with me and we're home. Tears fill my eyes and I squeeze them shut, determined not to let them fall.

After we finished dinner, Josh asked what I wanted to do and I told him I wanted to go home. I told him I couldn't promise anything, but I knew that I wanted to be at our place. I don't remember much after that because I think we both crashed within minutes of walking through the door. I don't know when I last fell asleep that early, but that would explain why I'm awake when the first number I see on the clock is a four.

I let out a sigh and Josh's body starts a little behind me. "You're awake?" he asks, his voice barely a whisper.

"Yeah," I answer, clearing my throat. "I guess so. You?"

He chuckles quietly into my ear. "Don't know yet."

"Mmmm," I answer, burrowing myself deeper into our little nest, and his arms tighten around me.

"How'd you sleep?" he asks a few moments later.

I shrug a little, my eyes blinking slowly. "Good. Better than I have in a while."

His lips press against the back of my neck, kissing it gently. "Me, too. Much better than sleeping on the couch, that's for sure."

I can't help it; my body tenses at that. "Josh, I never told you that you had to—"

"I know," he answers immediately, giving me a careful squeeze. "Self-imposed isolation. Still, sleeping next to you is far superior."

"Well…don't you forget it."

He makes a contented noise; his fingertips trail gently over my stomach. "Seriously, though—how're you feeling?"

I'm quiet for a few minutes, not really sure how to answer. I genuinely have to think about it. "Okay, I think. I really missed this."

"Me, too." He sighs. "It's all my fault."

"Josh, I'm not saying—"

"I am. If I didn't have my head up my ass for so long…"

"I know, but it's…it's over now, right?"

"Yeah," he whispers into my hair. "It's over now."

I can't voice it, or I don't want to voice it, but I don't know if I can trust those words yet. I want to believe him, and I know he means it, but my fiancé has been behaving like I don't exist for weeks now. It's hard to just believe that everything is back to normal.

I turn over instead, wrapping my arm around his middle as I pull myself closer. I press my face into his neck, breathing in his smell as deeply as I can. His hold on me tightens in response; our legs twine together and it's only then I notice, somewhat ruefully, that we're both wearing pajama pants. In fact, we're more or less fully clothed, which is definitely an oddity for us. Even on the coldest of nights, we rely on the skin-to-skin contact to keep us warm. It just speaks volumes about where we are right now.

We're silent for a while, long enough that he's probably on his way back to sleep but I realize, as my fingers absently stroke his back, that I can feel a lot of his ribs. I squeeze my arms around him a little and am surprised at just how narrow he feels.

"Jesus, Josh! You're so skinny!"

He chuckles mirthlessly. "You're one to talk."

"No, seriously—how much weight have you lost?"

He shrugs. "I wouldn't know. Weighing myself isn't something I do regularly." I'll give him that—we had a scale at one point, but we tossed it out after Dr. Bartlet lectured us and everyone else we knew about how scales could be counterproductive and take over our lives. Still, he doesn't have to weigh himself to know that his size has diminished severely. His pants have to be falling off of him.

"Josh, you have to take better care of yourself."

"Well, you know how I am when I'm working like that—I forget about everything except what's in front of me. You know I mostly remembered to eat because you scheduled it for me and my current assistant doesn't micromanage the way you did." He says it without rancor, so I know he means the "micromanage" thing in a positive way. "But, Donna…you've lost weight, too, and let me tell you, I didn't know you had any to spare."

"Yeah, but my wedding dress looks great on me."

"Donna…"

"That's a lie. The seamstress keeps taking it in and saying it's going to fall off of me." I shrug, readjusting my grip on my far-too-thin fiancé. "Between the general stress of planning a wedding and, you know…everything else, I haven't felt much like eating."

"We'll just have to fatten you up," he says, trying to keep his voice light, but I know the whole not being into eating thing bothers him more than he'll say. Eating has always been one of my favorite things to do and if I don't want to do it, then he knows things are seriously amiss.

"You know me—I probably won't have much of an appetite until…"

"Until?"

I sigh in resignation. "Until I'm sure about all this. Until I feel like you're in it with me." My eyes fill with tears and I silently curse myself. I hate that his word isn't enough for me at this moment; I just know that it's not. I've always been able to trust what he has to say to me, but the past several weeks prove that actions speak much louder than words.

"Yeah," he answers sadly, his body drooping. "Okay." He doesn't say anything for a while again but I can tell his mind is going a million miles a minute. "Let's postpone the wedding."

My heart actually cracks into a million pieces. I bury my face in Josh's neck, though I have no doubt he can feel my tears. "You don't want to marry me," I whisper.

"Damn it, Donna—no. That's not what I'm saying at all. I do want to marry you. If all this has taught me nothing else, it's that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I may have a terrible way of showing it, but I love you and I want us to be together…but not if you're not ready to trust me. That's not how our life together should start, and I know we have no one to blame for this but me. I also know that you'd never be the one to pull the trigger with this." His grip on me tightens and his voice gets choked. "You're just…you're so sweet and kind and wonderful and you won't want to disappoint our family and friends. I'll do it. I'll be the bad guy. Everyone can be mad at me, and they should be. I'll tell people…hell, I'll tell them whatever you want me to tell them. I don't care. I fucked this up, and now it's on me to fix it. I don't care how long it takes as long as you're completely sure that this is what you want. I don't want to be up there reciting our vows and wondering if you're terrified that I'm going to bolt." His fingers run down my spine. We sniffle in tandem. "This is too important."

I clutch onto his t-shirt, pulling myself as close to him as I can without actually becoming one person. I sob into his chest, and I'm not sure if he's shaking or it's me. Everything inside of me is so conflicted. I know without a doubt that Josh is the love of my life. If he wasn't, I don't think all of this would hurt so much. I also know that I do want to marry him. I don't just want to live with him forever; I want to be his wife. I want to have kids with him. I want to grow old with him. Unfortunately, I'm now paranoid that he might do this again, and I don't think I could handle it. I'm having a tough enough time with it all right now. Logically, I know there are worse things he could have done than try to protect me, even if he did it in his own roundabout kind of way. He isn't a bad guy—I've known some bad guys in their various incarnations in my life and Josh isn't one of them. He's one of the good ones, and I do know he loves me. I just know it's not outside the realm of possibility for this to happen again, and that's what scares the hell out of me.

"Do we have to decide now?" I finally whisper.

"What?"

"Do we have to decide now if we want to postpone the wedding?"

"Donna, you can make that choice whenever you want. If you wake up on the day of the wedding and you're still not sure, we can postpone. I won't hate you, and I won't blame you."

I'm quiet for a while, listening to him breathe. "Well, can we just take it one day at a time? I don't know if I can make decision like this on the spur of the moment."

He chuckles quietly, the sound rumbling in his chest. "Isn't that kind of what happened when I proposed?"

"Josh." I give him a squeeze before pulling back to look at him, the tears on his face obvious even in our dark bedroom. "I knew a long time ago that I was going to marry you; there was nothing spur of the moment about that choice."

He smiles at me, his fingers coming up to stroke my cheek. He leans in, hesitating just before he gets to my lips. Before I can over think it, I close the gap and kiss him. I probably shouldn't be doing this right now, not when our emotions are running so high, but…it feels perfect. I haven't kissed Josh in so long that I almost forgot how amazing it is.

He keeps it slow, running his fingers through my hair, and I lose all sense of time and place. I have a brief moment of clarity where I berate myself, and remind myself that this is why I wouldn't kiss him yesterday. It's so easy to lose myself in him. His head tilts, deepening the kiss, and even the rational part of my brain forgets why it was fighting this.

I roll onto my back—or Josh rolls me, I'm not entirely sure—and I sigh into his mouth at the feel of his body pressed against mine. It's been even longer since I've had this and it makes me lightheaded. His arms wrap around me, and I hook my feet over the backs of his calves to keep him close. Within moments we're scrambling at each other, pulling at shirts and pushing at pants in an effort to get closer. His fingertips graze over my breast and that snaps me out of it.

"Josh, wait," I mumble, pushing at his shoulders.

"I'm sorry!" he exclaims immediately, his hands jerking away from me as he pushes his torso off mine. "I'm sorry. I got carried away. I didn't mean to. It's just…" his voice trails off as he stares at me, breathing heavily, and all I can do is nod in agreement.

"It's okay. Don't apologize. I was there, too." I reach up and cup his cheek, smiling tremulously. "I just need more time before we…"

"I get it." He nods his head so hard I'm afraid he's going to hurt himself. "I do. Really. It's just been so long and I guess I forgot how good we are at this."

I laugh quietly, pulling him back to me. I give him a quick kiss and turn onto my side again, effectively pushing him off me. He doesn't go very far, keeping one hand draped just over my waist, his fingers lightly stroking my back. "I didn't lead you on, did I?"

"I think I led myself on," he answers. "Besides, even if you did, I'd deserve it, after what I've put you through—"

"Josh, stop it. This is not what we're going to be. I don't want you flagellating yourself over every little thing. If…when this is all over, it's over. We don't have to forget it but I don't want it to be between us. All right?"

"Okay," he answers softly, his voice tinged with sadness.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

I sigh, resituating myself a little. I don't entirely believe him, mostly because I know how willing he is to take the fault for everything that goes wrong in the world and then remind everyone that he's to blame for all of the problems.

"Are you going into work today?" he asks, shifting himself just a little closer to me.

"Yes. It's been two days—I need to go back. Helen hasn't said anything directly but I know she knows something's going on. I'm sure you haven't said anything to her but…"

"Yeah, there's a small possibility that the President knows what's going on. Or, well, at least he knows I haven't been with you for a few days and was going out of my mind. I don't know. I might have gone a little off the rails a few times and he had to talk me down from the ledge. Dunno. I wasn't the most effective person at work the other day. I don't know what he told his wife but I imagine it was everything. I don't blame him. I don't think I gave him any details, though, not the least of which is because I didn't have any at that point."

"Oh, God," I moan, burying my face in my pillow for a few moments. "I'm probably not going to get anything done today; I'll be too busy trying to dodge questions about what has probably become the fight of the century."

"Well, if you need any help getting some stuff done, I can do it. I'm actually really far ahead with my work."

"You don't say," I answer sarcastically. "At least you were productive while you were avoiding me." The air feels like it's sucked out of the room for a few long moments, and I don't think either of us breathe. I can't handle the sad puppy dog look for long and tear my eyes away, ashamed. "I'm sorry."

"I probably deserved that," he answers softly.

I sigh and try to pull away from him; he doesn't let me go. He doesn't feel like he's holding me forcefully, but I get the impression that letting me go right now would feel like he was letting me go on a larger scale. I sigh again. This moment right now makes me glad that we didn't wind up having sex. Obviously, I'm not there yet. Parts of me are for sure, and if I could get my mind to shut up for a while I'd probably even enjoy myself but…I guess there's still a lot to work out.

"I took care of a lot of work the last couple of days," I finally answer. "But I do imagine that today will be filled with well-meaning but very nosy questions."

He presses his lips against my forehead. "Seriously, though, if there's anything I can do help in any way, I'll do it."

My stomach flutters nervously. "Well, I still have a few meetings with our wedding planner, including one this afternoon…will you come with me?"

I can feel his body tense ever so slightly. "As long as I'm not in the middle of something, yes. It's not always easy to get away."

"Okay, first of all," I huff out in irritation, propping myself up on my elbow, "you just said you were really far ahead with your work so unless something major comes up there shouldn't be any problem. All of these meetings are scheduled around your appointments and such. It's just easier that way. And second of all, we have the meetings in the White House. You don't have to go far. Most of the time they only last for a few minutes. They're just so we can go over new details and ask questions."

"Really? We have the meetings at work?"

"Josh…"

"No, really. I don't remember us going to any of those at work a couple of months ago."

"Well, we met wherever it was convenient at first, but since the planner actually works for the White House, it was easier just to meet her there. Plus, I thought I'd be able to get you involved if it was just down the hall from your office, but…well, it wasn't."

"So, it's already on my schedule?"

"Yes, it's already on your schedule. Your assistant penciled it in for us. She's reminded you about it every time, too, but from what I understand you just kind of blew her off."

"Shit," he whispers. "I'm sorry. I really have been terrible."

"Well, your entire wedding is going to be a surprise, that's for sure."

"Donna…seriously. I'm sorry. I know you don't want this hanging over us for eternity but I've got to say it a few dozen times a day for a while. I'm sorry I was so awful to you, and I'm so, so sorry that I've blown off all this wedding stuff. This isn't how I imagined any of this going. You have to believe that. I don't want our wedding to be a surprise. I'll come to the meetings. As long as I'm able, I'll come to the meetings. I'm sure our planner thinks I'm an asshole but I'll be as involved as I can for the last couple of weeks."

"The planner thinks you're busy—that's all. She knows what your job is." He nods a little, though I can tell he's not satisfied with that answer. "Josh…why'd you get like that when I asked if you'd come to the meetings with me?"

"Like what?"

Playing dumb—nice. "You tensed up. It was like any time the last month or so I asked you anything about the wedding."

He sighs, stroking my back again. "I don't want you be disappointed in me again if it turns out I can't make it to some of these because of work."

"Josh, I would never hold that against you. You know that. How many times in the last couple of years have we had to cancel plans or leave in the middle of dinner because something came up? I get it. I worked with you for a long time. I know how this goes." I pause, swallowing the lump that's suddenly in my throat. "I meant what I said the other day—I would never expect you to put me before the job. I know work has to come first."

"Damn it, I don't want it to come first!" he exclaims, making me jump. "Sorry. But I don't want that to be our life, at least not more than it has to. I know that as long as I have this job there's a certain amount of freedom I'm giving up but I don't want it to constantly take precedence over everything. You're my number one priority, Donna. You are. I've gotten muddled about that recently and I know I've done a terrible job of showing it, but you are the most important thing in the world to me."

"It's a lovely sentiment, honey, but it's not feasible—you know that as well as I do. Your job—"

"No," he answers resolutely. "No. I mean, yeah, it's important and there will always be times when that's where my focus has to be, but for the most part, it's gotta be you. If there's ever a choice, it's you."

"Josh—"

"Fuck it, I'll quit today. I don't care. If it's going to come between us, it's not worth it."

"Josh, stop. It doesn't have to be one extreme or the other. I'm not asking you to pick between me and the job—"

"I know, because you wouldn't do that! You'd gladly take a backseat without complaint, but I don't want you to have to. That's not fair—"

"Seriously, you've got to stop for a second. There's a middle ground that you can find. You can't keep swinging from one end of the spectrum to the other. You can have your job and it can be important—sometimes the most important thing—and it doesn't have to mean that our relationship isn't important, too. You've done a really good job of balancing it all for the last couple of years and just because you've…I don't know, gone off the reservation lately, that doesn't mean you can't find that balance again."

"Yeah, I guess."

"You just have to remember to talk to me about this stuff, okay? If something's bothering you, don't bury yourself in your work. I want to be here for you, but if you won't talk to me, if you hide behind your job, how can I help?"

"Fine; you're right. I should be talking to you about this stuff. But you've got to stop running away."

I feel my entire body tense and I pull as far back from Josh as I can. "Excuse me?"

"Donna, that's what you do. When shit hits the fan, you run."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

He makes a face, almost like he regrets saying anything, but barrels on. "How many times have you just up and left since we've known each other?"

I sit up and stare down at him, my mouth open in shock. "Are you seriously throwing the Dr. Freeride thing in my face now, after all these years?"

He sits up, too, reaching over to turn on his bedside lamp, both of us blinking furiously at the sudden brightness. "You just up and leave, Donna. You know you do. You did it then."

"Okay, I didn't leave because 'the shit hit the fan,' I left because the guy I'd spent five years of my life with wanted to give us another shot, and I was really, really dumb. I'd left home and driven halfway across the country and joined a presidential campaign and felt wildly under qualified to be there, especially around all of you with two or three college degrees, all from Ivy League schools no less. Yes, I felt insecure. Yes, it felt like it would be easier to go back to him because at least I wouldn't be in over my head. It was cowardly, but it was also more than ten years ago. I screwed up and then I fixed it. Are you really going to bring it up now? Because that's just shitty."

He slumps against our headboard, crossing his arms over his chest. "That's not the only time you've left me."

"Left you…Josh, when have I left you? When have I ever left you?"

He looks at me incredulously. "Four years ago. I know you haven't forgotten."

"Oh, my God!" I exclaim, burying my face in my hands for a few seconds. "Are you serious? We've gone over this a million times, Josh! Far more times than we should have. I didn't leave you. I tried to tell you. You wouldn't talk to me. I put in my two weeks with HR and I'm sure they sent you something about it that you ignored because you thought it was my job to take care of it for you. I wanted to talk to you about everything but you ignored me. What else was I supposed to do? I'd handed in my resignation; I didn't have to tell you when my last day was. I could have just let you be surprised by the temp. You kept blowing me off when all I wanted was to talk about where I was going with my career. If you'd bothered to talk to me, you might have known that it didn't necessarily mean that I was going to up and leave my job—I just wanted options. I wanted to know where I could go from there. I wanted your support. It was obvious you had no interest in giving it to me. So I left. Stop playing the victim with this because I didn't leave you, I left a job. People leave jobs all the time and it doesn't mean they stop being friends with the people they worked with. You did that. When you wouldn't keep our lunch meetings, it was like you were saying I didn't matter to you, and if I didn't matter to you, why shouldn't I just leave?"

"Yeah, well…you still went about it in a shitty way," he answers, slouching down even further, pouting like a child.

"Fine, so I treated you the same way you treated me. We're even. Are you really still holding that against me?"

He sighs, turning his head from me. "No." He pushes himself up straight a moment later. The look on his face is almost triumphant. "But you did leave me a couple of days ago, didn't you? You just disappeared. I couldn't find you, you wouldn't answer my calls, I didn't know what was going on."

I shake my head in wonder and disbelief. "You're serious with this. You hardly speak to me for weeks only to be so completely nasty to me in your office the other night when I finally questioned you about it, and I'm the bad guy because I needed to get away from you? That's great. I thought my fiancé was breaking up with me. I thought he wanted nothing to do with me. The most interaction I'd had with him for more than a month was a fight where he told me he didn't have time to worry about a party, but I'm the asshole for not wanting to stick around to be abused like that. Got it." I push myself out of bed and stomp toward the door, pausing for a moment to turn back to him. "For the record, I'm not 'running away' this time. I'm getting out of bed because I don't want to be near you." I make it half way down the hall before I turn and march back into the bedroom, going over to his side of the bed. He just stares at me, shocked.

"And furthermore, those other times you count as me 'leaving you'…you're so full of shit. I didn't leave you then. We were nothing then. We were coworkers. Most of the time I would have considered you my friend—probably even my closest friend—but we weren't a couple. You don't get to act like I committed some sort of heinous crime because your feelings were hurt at those moments. As for the other day, yeah, I get how objectively it's a big deal because we're a lot more now. We're supposed to get married. All of this stuff carries more weight now. But you don't get a pass on your bad behavior because you think not knowing where I was for a whole day is so terrible. Try living for weeks without knowing if your fiancé ever wanted to speak to you again. Try not knowing if he's going to show up to the wedding. See how that fucking feels. I left here the other night because I needed to be away from things that reminded me of you. I also thought you were so busy with your head up your ass that you'd never notice I'd gone anywhere. You never left the office anymore, so how would I know that you'd pick that moment to come home? All I got from you was sarcasm and snide remarks when I talked to you about our wedding so I thought it was in my best interest to leave for a little while before I burned the whole place down." I pause and take a few deep breaths, realizing my voice has gotten progressively louder—I'm probably near the volume where neighbors will complain. "You don't get to accuse me of running away when that's exactly what you've been doing for weeks. Just because you didn't do it physically doesn't mean doesn't mean you weren't running away from your problems." I swipe angrily at my damp cheeks and leave the room again.

Without any real game plan in mind, I head into the kitchen and switch on the coffeemaker, throwing the pot into the sink to fill it so aggressively I'm surprised I don't break the damn thing. I grab the edge of the sink as the water runs, taking deep breaths that do nothing to relax me. I just wish I could stop myself from crying.

I hear a noise behind me and am not surprised to see Josh standing in the doorway, looking a little shell shocked. I turn back to the coffeemaker and go about starting it up, trying to ignore him.

"This isn't how I wanted this morning to go," he says softly, regret in his voice, but I can't help rolling my eyes.

"You wanted to fight," I answer him. "You wouldn't have told me that I run away all the time if you didn't want to start something."

"Seriously, Donna. I really didn't want it to go this way."

"Whatever."

"Please don't 'whatever' me. I'm trying, here."

"Would you like a medal?"

"Christ, Donna! Why are you so angry?"

I turn around slowly, staring at him in disbelief. "Are you really asking me that?"

"I'm really asking you that," he answers, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

"You think you can spend most of a day with me after all this and everything is just going to be back to normal? It doesn't work like that, Josh!"

"I'm not expecting normal, okay?! I just thought we'd made some progress. I thought maybe you didn't hate me quite so much this morning."

The wind goes out of my sails and I feel myself deflate. "Hate you?" I whisper. "Josh…I don't hate you. If I hated you, this wouldn't hurt so much. I love you—to a fault, probably. But I'm also angry. I'm still all those things I told you I felt yesterday, but I'm really angry. You almost threw out our entire relationship over absolutely nothing and it pisses me off. You had the nerve to sit there not two minutes ago in our bed and try to say that leaving my boss was the same as almost ending our marriage before it could begin. I don't want you to be a doormat but damn…could you just accept that this time it was on you? I know I'm not perfect and I've screwed up before—and I know I will again—but this one had absolutely nothing to do with me no matter how hard you try spin it. Everything feels bad enough as it is without having you blame me for this, too."

He makes a noise—a disgusted sounding noise—and scrubs his hands over his face. "Fine. You're right. I guess I want…I don't know. Maybe I figured I'd feel less horrible if…damn it, I don't know. I'm sorry. I shouldn't be blaming you. You're right about that. But…I don't think you get how terrified I was when I couldn't find you. I was so scared that something had happened to you, then I was terrified that you'd left me for good. It was agonizing. I've just…lost so many people, you know? I don't have that much family left and without you…"

I sigh in frustration, turning back to the coffeemaker for lack of anything else to do and pour myself a cup. "Why is it I have to constantly reassure you with your issues but you don't feel the need to do the same with me?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I guess you did early on and I appreciated it but I thought we were so solid that none of that stuff that happened before us really mattered. You told me you'd never expect me to give up my job or my life or whatever for you and I believed you. End of story. We had years of history behind us to back that up. I feel like I've had to constantly reassure you that I'm not going anywhere."

He looks pained, his eyes collapsing into little triangles of sadness. "Donna…"

"Yes, Josh, I know. You have abandonment issues. I get it. I know it's hard. I do everything I can to help with that. That's why I check in with you all the time, so you know that I haven't up and left. I know you need it less now. I know you've gotten pretty secure in my being around and that's fine. I'm glad you can count on me, and I'm sorry that so many people in your life have left, but Josh…" My insides crumple a little as I watch his face; his mouth turns down, his eyes water, and he crosses his arms tightly over his chest. "Josh, those people didn't leave you on purpose. Don't you think that any one of them would choose to be here with you instead of the alternative? But if you push someone away, how can you blame them for leaving? I didn't know what to do. The man I'd dedicated my life to, the one I'd give it all up for if he asked me to, disappeared—literally and figuratively. All those old insecurities I have started to rear their ugly head again, and the last few days especially have made me realize I need someone to reassure me from time to time, too."

"I can do that," he promises, nodding his head vigorously. "And if I'm being dense, you can tell me what you need. You can beat me over the head with it. Tell me that I'm not doing my job as your boyfriend or fiancé or husband and I need to be there for you."

I'm quiet for a while—we both are. I fiddle with my coffee cup for some time before I finally put it on the counter, untouched. He watches me, his body on alert as if he's stumbled upon a deer in the forest and is waiting to see if it'll notice him and bolt.

"This isn't how I'm going to spend my life," I finally say.

"That's what you said yesterday," he answers, his voice catching.

"I meant it then, too. I don't want us to spend our life together with you constantly trying to make up for this, but I also don't want you holding these things over my head indefinitely. I can't live with you throwing these moments back at me every time we have a fight. If we have kids, do you think they should hear their father saying their mother is going to run away again?"

He lets out a long, shaky breath. "No. Our kids should never worry about their parents leaving them."

"So, you have to decide if you can let it go. Same as you want me to decide if we should postpone the wedding or not. If you think you can't forgive all of those things or if you need more time before we get married…"

"What about this? The last few weeks I mean? Are you…"

I shrug. "If we get married, I guess that means it's done and behind us. That's the only thing I know. I'm not going to marry you if I think this is something that I can't get over. That's not fair to either of us. But if we work through all this, then it's done. Even if it takes some time for my brain to catch up, I don't get to throw this back at you any time I want to hurt you. We have to move on if we want to, you know…move on."

He takes a few steps into the kitchen, pausing to look at me questioningly. I'm not sure what he does or doesn't see but he resumes his slow walk toward me until we're toe to toe. "I do want us to move forward," he whispers.

"I do, too."

His hands reach out, gently holding onto my elbows. "And I want to marry you."

I take a shaky breath. "You do?"

He smiles at me, his eyes shiny and sad…but beneath that I can see a little bit of hope lurking. "I really, really do."

"I want to marry you, too."

"You're sure about that?"

"Completely."

"I thought you were going to take some time and think about it."

I shrug, looking away. "I know I want to marry you; I just don't know if I should. But until further notice, the wedding's still on. We'll go about finalizing the plans and…showing up for the rehearsal dinner and we'll smile for our parents and do all the things we're supposed to do and hope that it all feels right."

His hands come up to cup my face, his thumbs stroking my cheeks carefully. "Well, I'm going to check in with you constantly to make sure you want to do this."

"Constantly?"

"Annoyingly so."

I huff out a little laugh. It's not difficult at all to picture Josh asking me at every opportunity if I still want to marry him on our date. He's nothing if not tunnel-visioned and hyper focused when he wants to be, and if his goal is to make sure I'm sure about marrying him, he'll call and email and text as often as possible. It's one of the qualities I love so much about him. I just wish it hadn't come to this to make him want to focus just a little bit of that energy on me. "I'll hold you to that."

His smile broadens and he steps a little closer. "Know what I just realized?"

His proximity is making me a little hazy and unsettled. It takes me a few long moments and a lot of slow blinks to comprehend what he's saying. "What's that?"

"If I play my cards right, I kind of get to marry you twice."

My eyebrows reach for my hairline. "How do you figure that?"

"Don't we go through the whole thing during the rehearsal? The walk down the aisle, the vows, all that stuff?"

"I don't think it's that in depth, Josh," I whisper, staring at his lips. "I think we just go through the basics, mostly the processional and recessional to make sure everyone is in step and going in the right order. We're not exchanging any magic words the night before."

"Close enough," he breathes and leans in to press his lips to mine. I sigh as I respond, wishing for only a moment that kissing him didn't feel so completely perfect. It might make a few things feel a little easier if it didn't. I wrap my arms around him and go up on tiptoe, pulling myself as close to him as I can. He pushes me against the counter but I give him credit for not trying to go any farther. "I love you so much," he manages to mumble.

"I love you, too," I answer.

"I'm sorry we fought this morning."

I sigh and pull back from him a little, though I press my forehead to his. "I am, too. We probably needed it, though. We'll probably fight a few more times before it's all over."

"I don't want to fight with you."

"I'd rather we fight and get things out in the open than bottle up our resentment. We've done that in the past—it never works out for us."

He makes a face and neither of us has to say it out loud to remember how unpleasant our working relationship got at times when we'd be angry at each other without saying why, especially toward the end. That's not something I want to relive.

"Okay." He gives me a quick kiss and steps back, taking my hands in his. "Let's go back to bed."

My eyes widen in surprise and I glance over at the time on the microwave, amazed to see it's just barely five. A lot can happen in a short amount of time.

"We still have some time before the alarm is supposed to go off and even if we don't sleep…I'd just like to be near you. Maybe hold you, if you'll let me. We could try to start the day off on a better foot."

Inexplicably, my eyes fill with tears at the suggestion. I blink rapidly and nod my head. "Yeah. Yeah; let's do that."

He smiles gently and gives my hand a little tug; I follow him out of the kitchen, flicking off the lights as we go.

And that's a wrap. Maybe not what you wanted as a resolution but a resolution nonetheless. I really wasn't sure where I wanted to take this after I'd gotten myself into that mess so I just kind of kept writing until I couldn't write anymore. Still working on other things so stay tuned. I'm considering posting all my Friends stuff to AO3 so if you see a bunch of updates from me, that's probably why.