Disclaimer: I don't own these people.

Problems

Sakura sat on her decade-old maroon couch in her living room, long, shorts-clad legs drawn up beneath her, thinking. What exactly had Syaoran meant when he'd said, 'his way'?

It was Saturday morning. She had spent the whole night tossing and turning after Syaoran had left with a kiss and a promise. She'd hoped to God that he's spent almost as sleepless a night as she had when she finally gave up and went out of her room to brood on the couch at 7 am that morning.

She wasn't a fool, she was a practical, independent twenty-first century woman. Of course she hadn't expected him to call between last night and this morning! Still, she checked her answering machine one last time.

During the days when the bridal shop was just starting out, she'd stayed up late into the morning for weeks on end, trying to keep their books in the black. She was used to it, the tiredness. It didn't make her any less cranky, though.

Now she was cranky, just a little bit tired, and hungry at 9 in the morning. Well, at least she could take care of something. She glanced down at her shorts and simple T-shirt. Ah, she didn't think Antonello would really mind all that much.

She grabbed her purse and slammed out of the apartment.

Syaoran had been working since yesterday. Once he'd left Sakura's apartment, he'd gotten a call from Franco, telling him to rush down to the office.

"What?! It's 10!" Syaoran had held the phone to his ear and strode across the street to his jag.

"It's Mr. Alcon. He's dead!" Franco's voice barked into his ear.

Syaoran stopped dead in the middle of the street. Poor Bob Alcon. He'd just made it past his 72nd birthday and 40th year with the company before the cancer had claimed him. Syaoran's dad, Syaoran Li the First, had always said that Bob Alcon had made the best damn accountant New York had ever seen. With a mind like a calculator and a heart of gold, he'd worked the accountancy department with an attitude akin to that of a general putting troops to battle.

He'd been a mentor to Syaoran the First, as well as Syaoran the Second, and now he was dead, having fought lung cancer for 15 long, hard years.

Syaoran accepted the news with closed eyes and a sinking heart.

"I'll be right there.".

Syaoran woke up from pleasant dreams of Sakura with a crick in his back from the comfortable-yet-not-quite-a-bed couch in his office. He'd worked until 4 am that morning, writing press releases and arranging the funeral, something he had insisted on doing. Bon Alcon deserved all the memorials he could get.

Now the accountancy department needed a new head accountant. Syaoran allowed himself one last lust-and-something-else-filled thought of Sakura then got back to work.

Sakura had charmed Antonello into a 3-course breakfast by 10, and considered it good work, all in all. Sitting by herself in the same private booth that she'd shared with Syaoran the last time, she nibbled on sausages and thought of him. It was one day less than two weeks to the wedding. She's successfuly gotten a date, had her dress, Tomoyo was happy, the store was doing well, and she'd been fed.

Why did she still feel there was something missing?

When the door gave a little tinkle, Sakura whipped around, thinking that she had someone conjured Syaoran up from her thoughts. Again. To her utter shock and chagrin, Mortimer walked through the door with none other than the exotic-looking woman with the glinting red eyes she'd seen at the bar with Syaoran the first time.

Sakura had been sitting back facing the door again, so this time she scuttled as low in her seat as possible, hoping they didn't see her and - God forbid - invite themselves to join her for breakfast!

Too late. Mortimer had already caught a glimpse of her brown hair and green eyes when she'd glanced around.

"Sakura! Hey, Sakura!" Mortimer waved and told Antonello that he'd join her, so no need for a table. The sexy lady beside him found Sakura with her eyes and they seemed to sharpen on her, gleaming redder than ever. She smiled a feral grin. Sakura would have bet her own over-priced mules that the girl was wearing contacts, only about seventy percent of her gravity-defying body was god-given, and that the jet black hair had been dyed at least once. The knowledge went with the territory of the fashion business.

She sighed, straightened her back, set her face in a polite smile, and watched Mortimer and the girl shuffle into the seat opposite her.

"Hi Sakura. Thought that was you. This is Meilin. We're... together now." Mortimer watched Sakura's face carefully for the hurt and jealousy he had fully expected.

Sakura managed to control the laughter that threatened to burst out. Oh, the pig. He'd really thought she'd fall at his feet and beg him to take her back, didn't he? She could barely keep a straight face. The poor girl was welcome to him as far as Sakura was concerned.

"That's nice. I'm so happy for you." She bent her head and gulped down her coffee, desperately hiding a grin.

Meilin spoke up, her voice smooth and low, schooled to bring out the utmost sex her voicebox could possibly produce. "Mortimer and I are very, very happy, thank you, Sakura.". Mortimer beamed proudly beside her.

Sakura raised a fine eyebrow Tomoyo forced her to get shaped at least once a month. "That's real nice.", she drawled out lazily, knowing anybody with half a brain would understand the blatant sarcasm.

When Meilin's back snapped straight, Sakura concluded that at least the girl had half a brain, and nearly smiled. She really couldn't be bothered to participate in the immature animosity this couple were hell-bent on inducing. Meilin leaned forward with a smile as insincere and fake as her whole face.

"You know, Sakura, I used to go out with Syaoran, whom Mortimer tells me you're seeing now, and there are some things I think you should know about him."

Note: I apologise for taking so long. Please forgive me, people. I have no excuses. I'm dying with guilt is all I can say.