Author's Note: This is a Covinsky story, and I know Peter is OOC but there's a reason for it and I want to see where this story takes me. I hope you enjoy!

I lie down, with my head in Margot's lap and Kitty sits beside her, rubbing my shoulder.

"Gogo, it's really over." I sniffle. I'm not bawling anymore and I'll take what I can get. "I don't think this is Peter. I really don't. Something must've happened."

"Well even if that's true, that doesn't excuse how badly he treated you," Margot says in her matter of fact voice.

A fresh wave of tears sprout from my eyes as I say to Kitty, "I'm sorry Kitty."

She just grabs my hand and says, "It's not your fault."

But in some ways, it is my fault. I am not completely without blame. I smothered him and I always questioned about what he would talk about with Gen. I am jealous of her. That she's able to find her way back to him, that she understands him better than I do. And I think that's why I stopped calling him every night.

I have my sisters, but who does Peter have? He only has Gen, and I couldn't accept that. I'm sorry.

Kitty gets up. "I'll be right back." The place where she sat is still warm. She comes back with a bowl and a spoon full of ice.

"Deja vu, huh?" says Margot.

I snort, and they both grab a spoon and press it on to my eyes.

"You could do this yourself, you know," Kitty says to me. She fakes a sigh and massages her wrist as if she's tired.

"You know Kitty, maybe someday we'll be doing this for you," I shoot back with the tiniest of smiles.

"Yeah, no thanks. I'm not falling in love anytime soon. The Goddess within says that relationships while young are frivolous and disrupts the sacred rhythm of womanhood."

Oh Kitty. I hope we never have to press cold spoons to your eyes, is what I think before I drift off into a peaceful slumber.

I wake up to the smell of homemade cookies. I manage to trudge my way down to the kitchen.

"Lara Jean, you're up! How was your nap?" Dad asks me. The smile reaches his eyes so I know that he still doesn't know.

"It was good."

Kitty comes to the kitchen as well and greets me with a hug. "We saved some cookies for you, we're watching Golden Girls."

I gasp in fake horror. "Without me?"

"My niceness has been all used up already. Please come again in two to three business days while we refill."

I roll my eyes but I'm glad inside. I wouldn't want Kitty to stop being Kitty just because I wasn't me anymore.

We end up finishing two seasons before I go upstairs to clean myself up.

I'm fiddling with the locket while I look in the mirror. I can't live like this anymore. I will not fall apart, just because he left. I take it off and put it in my jewelry chest before ridding myself of all things Peter. Photos, notes, sweatshirts, jerseys. Even the old romance novels. They all go into a box. I guess it's taken me a long time because Daddy comes in and sits on my chair.

"You're cleaning again."

Having found a renewed sense of purpose, I say, "Of course."

"Do you want to talk about what happened? You know, with you and Peter? Should I be worried?"

"No and only if you find me in the backyard circling a fire that's burning all this," I joke to lighten the mood.

"Very funny," he deadpans.

"Catharsis is no laughing matter," I say as seriously as I can.

He sits up and looks around the room, and suddenly he says, "Let's go to the diner."

This time, I drive. We pull into the parking lot of the Corner Cafe and I unbuckle my seatbelt but before I am able to get out of the car, he stops me.

"You know Lara Jean. I saw the two of you way back at Thanksgiving. And I think Peter really changed after the injury. Not that he didn't love you anymore because I think I know Peter well enough to tell that, but I'd never seen him look so unsure and defeated."

I sigh. I guess we're going to talk about this after all. "I know Daddy. I saw it too. I thought I was doing what was best for him by being by his side all the time, but looking back, I don't think I understood how crushing that must have been. Or how tired he was with everything, including me." All I can do right now is to stare at the dashboard. I am not going to cry anymore.

"You know, things between your mom and I weren't always perfect. We separated for a while back there…, we didn't know what to do when she got a job in San Francisco and I wanted to stay here in Virginia. You're mother's always been a realist, you know with the whole notion of don't go to college with a boyfriend. And so she didn't think that it was a good idea to stay together."

"So how did you get over it?" I question, my hopeless romantic mind taking over.

"We didn't for a while there, you know. We lost touch for a few years. But she came back. Not just for me. I guess, she didn't like it out there as much as she thought she would, so she came back. And it was like she was never gone."

"So that's it? Love can't beat circumstance?" I say with a tinge of bitterness in my voice. And I hate myself for it. Because Daddy doesn't deserve that.

"I don't know, maybe. But I think that if it was meant to be, then the right circumstances will follow."

I give him a melancholy smile. "I don't think Peter and I are meant to be, at least, not anymore."

"But neither were your mother and I. Not anymore I mean. I think maybe sometimes meant to be doesn't have to last forever. All we can do is remember it. I don't want you to spend your time at home crying, Lara Jean."

I lean back. I look down at my lap and we just stay there for a while in silence. And suddenly, I start to smile. I look back up at him and he's smiling right back. "Is there a reason we had to do all this in the car in the middle of winter?"

He gives me a sheepish shrug. "Sorry. I got ahead of myself there…, let's go get some hot chocolate. Sugar is the best medicine."

I completely agree.

The next morning, I'm in a groggy haze because it's 5:00 a.m. in the morning and the only reason I'm up is because Gogo bribed her to be nice to me only if I made snickerdoodles. The little trickster. I set up all the ingredients and soon enough, I'm halfway done. I'm measuring the flour when I hear the sound of our mailbox screeching. It's really rusty and I feel sorry for our poor mailman.

I go outside to greet him and he waves at me before getting into his truck. I brace myself and lift up the mailbox that sounds like cats scratching a chalkboard, and flick through them.

They're mostly bills, but the last one catches my attention. It's a letter, from John Ambrose McClaren. My eyes widen a bit and I'm suddenly no longer sleepy. I eye it suspiciously. We haven't spoken since beach week, senior year. I don't either of us really knew what to say to each other, and we were both so busy with other stuff, that we just forgot each other. I wish we didn't. I should've tried to maintain the friendship. Because now he's just another person I lost.

I tear open the letter with my flour covered hands.

Dear Lara Jean,

It's been a while, hasn't it. I guess we should've kept in touch. It might make this a little less awkward….

I'm transferring from William and Mary to UNC next semester and I was wondering if maybe you would want to catch up over a coffee? Only if you want to though.

I hope you're doing well. I guess that's all I have to say.

Yours,

John Ambrose McClaren

I can almost imagine John writing this with that boyish grin of his. Even though he's in university now, there are still little parts of the boy who never laughed at Trevor when he ripped his pants playing basketball. He'll always be like that I suppose. It's what makes him so endearing.

I stare at the letter for quite some time. John Ambrose McClaren. The biggest what if in my life. But I think he was right. We never got the timing right. Neither did Peter and I.

Dear John Ambrose McClaren,

It really has been a while. I really wish we'd kept in touch too. Not because it might be awkward now but because you're the kind of person worth keeping in touch with.

I would love to meet for coffee next semester. Does the first day back sound good to you?

I hope you're doing well too. It'll be nice to see you soon.

Yours,

Lara Jean.

Soon enough, the holidays end and I'm back at UNC. I'm currently sitting in a little cafe by the campus, waiting for John Ambrose McClaren to walk through the door. It's late into the afternoon and I'm early I want to see him before he sees me.

I find a seat in the corner and I'm pulling out my book that I'm supposed to read for English Lit when he walks in. The cold air breezes past and I suddenly wish I'd ordered without him so I'd have something to keep my hands warm.

His cheeks are red from the winter wind and he's a little taller from when I last saw him. He takes off his hat and gloves and scans the room. His eyes land on mine. He smiles. I didn't know it, but I missed that same boyish grin he had when I gave him that chocolate peanut butter cake with his name written out in Reese's pieces. He walks towards me and I stand up. I give him a bear hug and I try not to notice that he smells like pine and fresh soap. Just like he did when he was little. I let him go and we sit down.

"Lara Jean," he says with a wistful smile. "I have to admit, you've grown taller."

I smile back at him. "I hope that's a compliment."

He chuckles. "Of course it is. I don't think anyone can insult Lara Jean Song-Covey. She's too sweet for that."

I wrinkle my nose at him and fiddle with my phone on the table. "So how are you?"

"I've been good. How have you been?"

I shrug. "I've been good too."

"This is weird isn't it," he laughs.

I raise my eyebrow at him. "You saying that makes it ten times more weird."

"Hey, I don't see your attempt at making things less weird. So it's fair to say, the blame is on both of us. But more so you because you noticed that it was ten times more."

"What? No way, you caused it."

He smirks. "But you brought it up, therefore making it a problem. I rest my case."

"Oh so you're going to be a big lawyer someday," I tease. He would make a great one. And suddenly I imagine the man that he'll be someday, wearing a suit everyday to work to stop injustice. But I hope he'll still be John Ambrose.

"Guilty as charged." He flashes me a smile, showing his teeth.

I roll my eyes. "Very funny. That's amazing though. Wow. John Ambrose McClaren, the lawyer."

"If I can make it through undergrad," he jokes.

"I know you John Ambrose. If there's anyone who can do it, it's you."

"Are you two going to order or what, 'cause other people are waiting for your seats."

My face goes red. I still feel like a teenager who always gets scolded. "Oh sorry, of course." We both go up to the counter and order tea with sugar. I do it because it reminds me of home and Night Night tea, but John does it because he's just that sophisticated.

I sneak a glance at him while we're walking to our seats. "Louie, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship," I quote. Margot and I discovered it during the break and I think it comes second just to Sixteen Candles.

His smile gets wider, but I can't tell if it reaches his eyes or not because he looks away.

Weird.