A/N: I know, I know. They have to get together really soon. And they will. Just not this chapter. But guess what? The next one? A double post! A Christmas present from me to you! So read, review. I'm reading my list. I'm checking it twice. Gonna find out who's naughty or nice

And if you aren't at least one of those (and both is preferable)…no post for you!!

Happy Almost Christmas!

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We hit some traffic on the way back. Consequently, Larry and Tim were late for their own reception. It had been decided that the reception would be held here because the Wingers' home was too small and renting a hall seemed a like such big fuss. Luckily, Sara had taken a different way back and arrived fifteen minutes before the guests did. It was just after six when we got there.

Looking around at all of the people I did not know, I sighed. I am good at mingling. I always have been. Putting people at ease is something that was handy in my current career, and all of my past ones; hostess, cocktail waitress, bartender, retail clerk, and yes, exotic dancer. But just because you're good at something doesn't mean you always want to do it. I cleared five hundred a night in tips- easy, as a dancer. That doesn't mean I had to like it. Sometimes, I really do like working a crowd. But this was not one of those times.

Thankfully, the party at Duck's started at eight-thirty and the bar, Sara had said, was in the Castro district in the middle of the city. Since we were nearly all the way out in Santa Clara Valley, that meant we were going to have to leave in about an hour just to get there fashionably late. And that, in turn, meant that I could hang out with the girls for half an hour before I went to change and get ready to go. Sara was circulating, so except for when she handed Maggie off to me, I didn't see her.

Maggie had fallen asleep in the car, and since neither she nor her sister had been sleeping well, I took them both into the bedroom with me when I made my escape. I slipped Maggie's shoes off and put her under the covers in my bed. Ayla sat on Sara's bed and read her book while I put out possible outfits on mine. Getting ready to go out is a always a long and involved process for me, one that is stressful and tedious and very fun. There's hair and make-up to do, plus clothes and shoes, matching hand bag and jewelry. And if I hadn't done it already, I would need to shave, pluck, and depending on the event; wax.

I paid no attention to the dozing child under the duvet and in a few minutes, Maggie was covered up to her nose in potential outfits, still sleeping peacefully. This made Ayla smile and leave her book to climb up beside her sister.

"You hid Maggie under all of your clothes! And she doesn't even know!" She scrunched her nose in delight. "That's funny!"

I grinned at her. This was the first time I had seen her smile. The gap between her teeth made her look so much like Sara it was scary. "That's right I did. It is funny, isn't it? Would you like to help me pick out my clothes for tonight?"

Her eyes widened in disbelief. "Me?"

"Of course, why not?"

This was something that Lindsey and I did all the time, but it was a new concept to Ayla. I had to keep reminding myself that since Sara moved away, she had not had an active female role model in her life. And as wonderful as Sara is, she is not the girliest of women. Some things I would assume every little girl knew, were completely alien to Ayla. She knew nothing about the world of fashion and make-up and lip-syncing to Diana Ross in pink fuzzy slippers with a hairbrush microphone. And something about the look in her eye told me that it was a world she desperately longed to discover. But she didn't know how to ask. I smiled. I had just found my way in with this girl.

"I don't know how…I'm only seven."

"So? My daughter was helping me pick out clothes when she was just a baby. All it takes is practice."

She looked unsure. "I don't know…"

"It's like this. I'm going to a party that isn't too dressy, but I still want to look pretty. So if I showed you this dress," I held up a green and blue patterned silk dress, "what would you say?"

She regarded it critically and then shook her head, "It's too fancy, right?"

I nodded, "Exactly. And if I asked what do you think about these?" I pointed to the sweatpants hanging on the bedpost.

She tilted her head to one side, "Not pretty enough, are they? I think they would make you look fat."

I laughed out loud, "You see? You're a natural. So, you think you could give it a try?"

She shrugged. "I guess so."

While we went through my clothes, Ayla told me about the book she was reading. It seemed pretty advanced for someone her age, and I knew then that she didn't only take after Sara in looks.

"It's called Someone is Hiding on Alcatraz Island by Eve Bunting. It's about this boy, Danny, who rats out this gang in San Francisco to the police. And then the gang finds out and they try to kill him! But he outsmarts them and runs away to Alcatraz! That's the jail on the island in the San Francisco Bay. That's where I am so far."

Sounds like he's going to be needing a body bag… "Sounds scary."

She shakes her head. "Not really. I know it's fiction, so it's not real. And it's written for eleven year olds so I bet nothing really bad happens."

That's…logical. And since when are seven year-olds logical? Since they get half their DNA from one Sara Sidle. "How do you know it's for eleven year-olds?"

"In second grade, the kids at my school get their own email and we learned how to navigate the Internet using the school web address. Only I already knew how to use it because Daddy taught me on his lap top. I just had to learn the difference between a Mac and the PCs they have at school. So when Mr. Denver, the computer teacher, was showing everybody else how to login and stuff, I found the sixth grade summer reading list. We aren't on the same server as the middle school and the high school, so those are the most advanced books I could find. I printed the list out and this is the last one."

"Wow. That was a really smart idea."

Ayla shrugged, "I'm smart." Like she had just pointed out that the sky is blue.

A thought occurred to me. "Ayla, when's your birthday?"

"April third. I just turned seven last month. I got a computer simulator that teaches you how build engines for different things. I'm only on cars and motorcycles right now, but when I get better at it, Uncle Larry and Uncle Tim are going to get me the application for planes and helicopters. Hopefully by my next birthday I'll know how to build a space shuttle to government specifications."

But she can't reach the cookies on top of the refrigerator. "Shouldn't you be in first grade?"

"No. I was in first grade last year. They put me in kindergarten to start, but none of the other kids could read or write very well, and they didn't know how to do multiplication or even adding and subtracting, so they moved me up. The principal wanted to put me in fourth grade but Daddy and Papa were afraid it would stunt my social development." She nods. "So I get to have tutors for a couple hours after school everyday to learn other stuff. And Papa's friend Darius teaches me about the stars with the telescope at the City College."

"Awesome. What about this blue tank top with that skirt?"

"Alessandra Morales's big sister Alagracia has a skirt like that. She's sixteen. She smokes four cigarettes before we get on the bus everyday. And she has blue fingernail polish and Daddy says her boyfriend, TKT, is selling drugs out of the back of his car to pay for a recording studio. I've seen her kissing him at the movies. With gum in her mouth."

"Okay, forget the skirt…"

Eventually we decided on my tight, dark blue, hip-hugger jeans, and my purple silk, spaghetti strap, tank top that hugs my chest pretty tight but then is loose and flowy around the bottom. I unzipped my dress as far as could I and then held my hair up and asked Ayla to unzip it the rest of the way. She sat up excitedly the way Lindsey does, feeling important about getting to do such a grown-up, womanly thing.

I slipped out of my dress and pulled on the jeans. "You have to help me pick out my shoes too, okay?"

"Okay."

"There a bunch of pairs at the bottom of the wardrobe. Why don't you pick while I fix my hair and make-up?"

She nodded.

I decided to wait to put the top on. Sweat stains on silk are not attractive. So I wandered into the bathroom in just the jeans and my bra. I returned a few minutes later to see her sitting on the floor with three pairs in front of her. "Well?" I asked, smiling.

"Well, I couldn't decide. I like these the best," she held up the three inch pencil-heeled silver sandals with the ribbons that tied around the ankle, "but they don't look very comfy. These," she held up my sneakers, "look comfy, but they're pretty boring. No shiny stuff. And then these ones," she pointed at the black spike-heeled ankle boots, "are sort of comfy and sort of fancy but not so shiny as the other ones." She shook her head, "It's hopeless."

"What's hopeless?" I jumped as Sara came in the room.

Remembering that I was all but topless, I leapt for my top and covered myself. Belatedly, I realized how suspicious that looked, so I tried to gracefully turn the movement into an intentional step towards putting on the shirt. I'm not sure that I quite pulled it off, but Sara didn't seem to notice, anyway. Of course not; she never seemed to notice any of my erratic behavior over the last few days. Never questioned it. And there were only two explanations for this. One, I was over thinking things and being paranoid. I didn't like the thought of that. Or two, Sara had noticed every tiny detail of my irrational behavior over the last few days, and had chosen to either keep quiet or ignore it. I didn't much like the sound of that either.

"We're trying to decide what shoes I should wear." I turned to Ayla, "Maybe we should ask Sara?"

The little brunette nodded and looked expectantly up at her taller counterpart.

Sara regarded the three pairs set aside and then the larger pile of shoes against the wardrobe. "Cath…how many pairs of shoes did you bring?"

I shrugged, "Eight."

"Eight?" She looked at me in disbelief.

"Yeah, eight. What?" What? That's all I could fit without packing a bigger suitcase.

She shook her head and smirked. "Well, don't wear the sneakers- my boots put me just above six feet, so you'll be a midget. The black ones look more comfortable. But I think I like the strappy ones," she nodded. "Shiny."

Now I shook my head. Shiny. "Alright, you both like the shiny ones, so I guess they win."

Ayla smiled, and twisted bodily from side to side, happy that she picked right.

Sara put a hand on the little girl's head and looked over at the once again visible, sleeping Maggie. She turned back to me with a goofy half-smile, "Are you nearly ready? We should leave in ten minutes or so."

"Yeah, you?"

"Just need to change." She moved to her bed and picked up a pile of folded clothes.

It was my turn to look disbelieving, "In ten minutes?"

She stopped in the doorway of the bathroom and looked at me like I was crazy, "No. Three, four minutes tops. I'll be out in a sec." And she shut the door behind her. She's not serious. No one can change that fast and look remotely good.

Wrong. Sara can.

Just to prove a point, I started the timer on my watch and then leaned over to put on my shoes. Ayla watched rapt fascination. By the time I finished criss-crossing and tying the ribbons around my ankles, Sara was coming out of the bathroom. Wow. She had on cornflower blue, wide-leg jeans with a black disc belt. The 'green top' she'd mentioned earlier was a skin-tight, deep rain-forest green, keyhole halter-top with gathering along the ribs and darting on the sides of her breasts. Great, now I will have to be reminded all night of the fact that she has breasts!

It even looked like she'd had time take down her hair and brush it out. As well as darken her eye make-up and put on lipstick. I looked at my watch. Three minutes and twelve seconds. How is that possible? Sara caught me staring and looked down self-consciously.

"Do you think the top is too tight? I pulled it out of one of the boxes I left in the basement here when I moved. I'm not as thin as I used to be…it's too tight, isn't it?"

"No!" It came out rather loudly. "I…" I began in a quieter tone, "I mean, no, it isn't too tight. It's very flattering. I'm just not used to seeing you…so relaxed. You look…" Beautiful? Sexy? Oh, my God, I want to… "great. Really great."

"Great. So, you set? I just need to put my shoes on."

She reached under her bed and grabbed a pair of three inch heeled, hook lace up, black leather boots. She then sat down next to me on my bed and proceeded to put them on. When she bent over to tie them up, I noticed that at base of her right shoulder blade she had a small, black and lavender shaded tattoo. It was the Greek letter 'L', the lambda. The curve of it fell across the natural line of her back. Pretty.

Without thinking, I reached out and touched it. Unsurprisingly, my fingertips met with a now familiar rush of heat that reverberated through me like so many musical notes. I felt her tense beneath my touch. She looked up and over her left shoulder at me with an unspoken question dancing over her arching brow and in her searching eyes. I gave her a soft smile and she returned it. It was happening again; she had captured me in her gaze. I couldn't look away from her and my vision was beginning to go black around me. All I could see was her face, her smile. My heart was thundering and my breath had gone a bit shallow.

"How long will you be gone?"

I jumped and my head snapped to Ayla standing in front of us with a hand on each of our knees. Sara bent down again to finish tying her boots. "I'm sorry, what was that, sweetheart?"

"When are you coming back?"

"I think that you will probably be asleep at Grandma and Grandpa's by the time we get back, sweetie."

Ayla's pout was priceless. "Can I come, too? I'll just read and I promise I'll be really quiet and I won't get in any trouble."

Sara was completely taken in by the dramatic despair in the child's voice and looked halfway ready to take her with us.

I interjected, "I'm sorry, hon, but this party is just for grown-ups. And it will probably be over long after your bedtime."

Now both brunettes looked distressed.

"But how about we have a sleepover tomorrow night? Okay? And we can all wear our pajamas and eat junk food and watch a movie. How does that sound?"

They both looked somewhat pacified and Ayla nodded.

"Good. Sar, we had better go if we don't want to be too late."

As we stood, Ayla wrapped her arms around Sara's waist, hugging her tightly and burying her small face in the older woman's stomach. Sara gave me that deer in the headlights look even as one hand came up instinctively to rest on the little girl's head and the other made circles on her back. I don't know why she's so tense around these girls, she never has a problem being physical with Lindsey. They're always hugging and wrestling and tickling…But with Ayla and Maggie, even a smile was a huge effort.

I knew how conflicted she must be. Every time she looked at the girls, she must see Matt and Warren looking right back at her. And I knew she had a sense of obligation to her friends to honor their memory and take care of their children. But at the same time, I knew that, as much as she wanted to deny it, a part of her looked on them as though they were her own children, too. And she still had not gotten over the guilt of that. For my part, I didn't see what was wrong with having it both ways. Yes, they were Matt and Warren's daughters. And yes, they were hers too. They'd had fathers who loved them. Now, they needed a mother to do the same. But it was harder for Sara to see it that way. It was almost as if she was afraid to be a parent.

I smiled at her, "Sara…"

She nodded and hoisted Ayla up on her hip just as lightly as she did Lindsey. "I'll see you in the morning, okay?"

Ayla clung to her like a monkey and nodded into her neck.

Sara looked like she was going to cry as she kissed the little dark head and dropped her charge gently on my bed. "How about you stay and read for a bit and I'll tell Grandma where you are?"

Ayla blinked sleepily; she wasn't going to last much longer. Nodding her agreement, she crawled up and lay beside her sister, cradling her book rather than reading it. Sara went around the bed and delicately laid a hand in Maggie's dark curls. She kissed them both on the forehead just like I had seen her do to Lindsey so many times. Just like I had felt her do to me. When she met my eyes, she smiled, a bit sadly, I thought. Then she gestured in the direction of the door with her head and I nodded my silent compliance.

I shut off the lights and we were just about out the door when we heard Ayla mumble, "Goodnight Sara."

I watched a look of pure contentment pass over Sara's face, and I knew that in this moment, if she had the choice, she'd love nothing more than to stay her with her two girls. "Goodnight, Ayla."

I smiled and turned to go when the little girl spoke again, "Oh, and Goodnight, Catherine."

I inhaled sharply.

I wasn't prepared for how my heart would soar at those two little words. I felt like I'd just climbed the tallest mountain, and in a way, I had. If we were going to be seeing as much of each other as I suspected we were, then it was vitally important that she trust me and feel some sense of security when she was with me. And in kid world, if I warranted a 'goodnight', not the kind your parents made you say when people were leaving, but a genuine, freely given one- if she thought I deserved that, then I definitely made her feel safe. Ha! How cool was that? It was like winning Sara's trust all over again and it felt just as good. Sara seemed to understand that this was a milestone too, because she squeezed my arm and grinned at me.

I smiled widely as I strode back to the bed. Sitting on the edge, I leaned over and cradled Ayla's head in my hands, "Goodnight, angel." I kissed both of her little cheeks, "Have sweet dreams, okay?"

She nodded and snuffled, and I realized that she was crying.

"What's the matter, sweet pea?"

She put her arms around my neck and I pulled her into tight hug. I rocked her slightly the way I did with Linds when she was upset. "You and Sara are going to drive to the city in the dark and you're never coming back!" she cried.

My heart clenched. Of course she would think that. I motioned with one arm for Sara to come help just as I held the little scared girl tighter to me with the other. "Oh, sweetie! We're not going anywhere; Sara is going to come straight home. We both are."

I felt Sara sit close behind me and lean over my shoulder. In order to hug Ayla from this position, Sara had to bring her leg up and sit with it tucked under her. And she was pushed flush against my back in a such a way that her inner thigh was pressed alongside my hip and outer leg. From there, it was easy for her to wrap her arms around me and the little girl I was cradling, and for her to stretch her graceful neck over my shoulder and rain kisses in Ayla's long hair. This could have been a very erotic position, with Sara touching me the way she was, but any thoughts I had of that nature were fleeting. This was different. It was still very sensual, but it was different.

"Catherine's right, honey. We're going to come home in a few hours and we will play together tomorrow just like she said. I promise that we will do our very best to make sure that happens, okay?"

"But that's what Grandma said! She promised Daddy was going to be okay when he went in the doors with all the doctors. But he didn't come back!"

I tensed. Stupid woman. Promising something like that to a child. I kissed her wet cheek, and since Sara seemed to have been struck dumb either with anger or grief, I spoke, "Sweetie, I think Grandma was really scared about your Daddy and Papa. And sometimes when grown-ups are scared, they make promises they can't keep. Your Grandma wanted your Daddy to be okay so badly that she thought if she promised it out loud, it would come true. Understand?"

"She didn't mean to lie."

"No, sweetie, she didn't."

"But you're still going out?"

"We have to, hon. Sara helped plan the party. But you'll be okay, right? You have Grandma and Grandpa here, and Uncle Larry and Uncle Tim. And you have Maggie. Maggie is very ferocious. She will keep you safe."

That made her giggle. "And you will drive really careful and not go too fast and stop at the red lights and look both ways and wear your seat belt? You have to wear your seat belt. That's the most important thing."

Sara tightened her hold on both of us, "Of course we'll wear our seat belts. And we will drive very carefully, okay? And if you want, I'll even call Grandma when we get home just to say we're safe. And then tomorrow, we can go to the park and play. How's that?"

Ayla nodded over her yawn, "Sara?"

"Yeah?"

"Before you go, will tell me the precious poem?"

"The Fly-Away Horse?"

"Yes. The one with monkeys."

"Hmm." Sara pressed her mouth into my skin as she hummed contentedly, pretending to think. I could feel her lips curve into a smile. "Well, I'm not sure that I remember how that one goes…"

"You do too!"

Sara tickled her lightly so as not to wake up Maggie. "You're right, I do. Okay, but only once. And only this one. I'll recite more tomorrow, if you want me to. Deal?"

"Yup."

"Okay." Sara turned her head and I found myself nose to nose with her. She just winked at me and playfully pushed her nose against mine before turning back to Ayla. "You ready?"

"Go!"

I felt Sara scooting even closer, turning us a little as she went so that she could stretch her leg out. Then she began to speak in a soft, rhythmic tone;

"Oh, a wonderful horse is the Fly-Away Horse--

Perhaps you have seen him before;

Perhaps, while you slept, his shadow has swept

Through the moonlight that floats on the floor.

For it's only at night, when the stars twinkle bright,

That the Fly-Away Horse, with a neigh

And a pull at his rein and a toss of his mane,

Is up on his heels and away!

The moon in the sky,

As he gallopeth by,

Cries: "Oh! What a marvelous sight!"

And the Stars in dismay

Hide their faces away

In the lap of old Grandmother Night.

It is yonder, out yonder, the Fly-Away Horse

Speedeth ever and ever away--

Over meadows and lane, over mountains and plains,

Over streamlets that sing at their play;

And over the sea like a ghost sweepeth he,

While the ships they go sailing below,

And he speedeth so fast that the men on the mast

Adjudge him some portent of woe.

"What ho, there!" they cry,

As he flourishes by

With a whisk of his beautiful tail;

And the fish in the sea

Are as scared as can be,

From the nautilus up to the whale!

And the Fly-Away Horse seeks those far-away lands

You little folk dream of at night--

Where candy-trees grow, and honey-brooks flow,

And corn-fields with popcorn are white;

And the beasts in the wood are ever so good

To children who visit them there--

What glory astride of a lion to ride,

Or to wrestle around with a bear!

The monkeys, they say:

"Come on, let us play,"

And they frisk in the coconut-trees:

While the parrots, that cling

To the peanut-vines sing

Or converse with comparative ease!

Off! scamper to bed -- you shall ride him to-night!

For, as soon as you've fallen asleep,

With a jubilant neigh he shall bear you away

Over forest and hillside and deep!

But tell us, my dear, all you see and you hear

In those beautiful lands over there,

Where the Fly-Away Horse wings his far-away course

With the wee one consigned to his care.

Then grandma will cry

In amazement: "Oh, my!"

And she'll think it could never be so.

And only we two

Shall know it is true--

You and I, little precious! shall know!"

Silence hung in the air for several seconds until; "And Catherine," came the fading voice of the sleep-heavy girl in my arms. Our arms. "Right, Sara? Catherine knows, too."

"Yes, she does. Catherine knows too." Sara turned and buried her face under my jaw, the bridge of her nose resting against the skin where my shoulder met my neck. I could feel her eyelashes when she blinked.

"So now it's all of ours secrets, right? Now it has to go 'and only we three shell know it's true, you and I and Catherine, little precious…" Her head finally dropped and she trailed off.

Sara lifted her head and slackened her grip a bit, "Is she out?" she whispered. "I guess we should get going. We're going to be really late." She started to stand, but I caught her hand.

"Stop, come back. She's not really out yet. Sit down."

All too readily, Sara resumed her position, resting her chin on my shoulder. "How do you know? She looks asleep to me."

I shook my head. Our cheeks were touching slightly and she could feel me smile. "Mom Lesson number 1; the three main stages of sleep. Drifting, Dozing, and Dead to the World. Never attempt to move a child before they hit stage 2; they will just wake up and cry. There is also a sub-stage of Dead to the World, which I call the twitch zone. If a child falls asleep on you, for instance, while you're watching a movie or sitting down at a party, when she hits the dock at dreamland, she twitches and squeaks. It'll really freak you out at first; eventually you'll think it's cute. Until she hits seventy pounds and her twitches become fists in the eye; less cute."

Sara nodded like this was going to be on the next test or something. "How do you tell how asleep they are?"

Good question, Miss Sidle. "The time spent in each stage varies from child to child and with age. For instance, I already know that Maggie drifts for a lot longer than most three year-olds- unlucky for you, but not as long as Ayla or Lindsey would because they are more practiced at fighting sleep. But there is a test you can do to ascertain sleep level that never fails."

"And that is…?"

"Weight. Kids get heavier as they sleep."

Sara shook her head, "That's physically impossible. The state of inertia does not increase density or volume of an object and therefore cannot affect mass."

I rolled my eyes. "Humor me, will you? If you are carrying the bulk of her weight, you'll be able to feel her falling asleep. If you aren't…" I gestured at the inert form leaning against me. "Lift her forearm." I ordered.

Sara looked at me like I was crazy.

I sighed. "Will you just trust me a second? She won't wake up. Now, lift her arm."

Sara carefully lifted the little arm just above the wrist.

"Higher. About eight inches up."

Sara obeyed and looked at me for further instruction.

I smiled. She was so cute. "Okay, good. Now let it go."

The disbelieving look returned.

"Sara, so help me God, if you don't drop it right now I will scream and wake them both up!"

She let go. The arm stayed motionless for a moment, before slowly descending down to the coverlet where the fingers twitched a bit. Ayla gave a little squeak and then lay still. Sara observed it all and then looked back at me.

"See what I mean? She's only half-baked." I fell silent and settled back into Sara's chest and dropped my head onto her shoulder behind me.

She looked at me curiously, "Now what?"

"Now…we wait."

"For how long?"

"Two minutes. Then we retest."

"Don't your arms hurt? Aren't your abs cramping?"

"No and no. I lost feeling in my arms about ten minutes ago and…it is the gift of mothers everywhere to be able to delay feeling their own pain until their children are attended to. I'll be sore as fuck tomorrow. If I have time." I smile up at her.

"Well, I definitely don't have that."

"You will." I said confidently. She would. "Contrary to popular belief, most 'mom skills' are more from practice and habit than some mystical natural power. And I've never seen you fail when you decide to figure something out."

She grinned and bent down to rest her forehead on mine. She hummed into my hair. "You're amazing," she whispered.

I snorted "Why? Because I can sit on a bed and put a little girl to sleep? Because I've wrinkled my shirt, or because I don't care that she's drooling? Because I'm positive that my make-up is smudged and my hair's a mess?"

She lifted her head and gazed into my eyes, "Yes," she insisted, seriously, "That's exactly why. Because your shirt is wrinkled and your hair is sticking up funny and your eyeliner has all gone to the corners of your eyes. Yes, because you've been holding her like she was your own daughter for the last half hour and you knew exactly what she needed." She smiled. "And definitely yes, because you don't care that she's drooling." She shook her head and whispered, "You are amazing, Catherine. And I don't care what you say, you are a way above average, fantastic mother." She sighed and dropped her head until her lips and nose were against my forehead. "And you've never looked more beautiful than you do right now. Like this." Her voice was throaty and low.

My eyes fluttered shut at her tone and I bit my lip hard to keep from crying.

Ten minutes later, when we had managed to get Ayla under the covers and I had sufficiently altered my appearance, we made our excuses to Larry, Tim, and the Wingers, and hand in hand, we walked down the hill to where we had parked the T-bird to make sure we would be able to get it out of the cram packed driveway. I let Sara navigate us around pebbles and cracks in the road, and focused my gaze on the clear night sky dotted with stars.

I wasn't going to survive much more of this. If I wasn't going to spontaneously combust or be driven mad, I was at least going to frustrated, depressed and unfocused when I returned to Las Vegas. And both my job and my relationship with Lindsey would suffer from that. I couldn't afford for that to happen. I made up my mind to tell her, or at least, to tell her something. Obviously, I couldn't say anything now when we were on our way to her dead friends' memorial party; this was not the right time. But I would tell her first thing in the morning. Is that too soon? Does it really matter at this point? No. It didn't. I had to know.

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It's horribly sappy and disgusting…tell me you love me!!! I've had a very traumatic week.