Author Note:

Friends, I am so sorry that this has been so long. Life got in the way – including working on my thesis proposal. (Which is in the official review stages… cross our fingers) I'm not especially happy with this chapter, but I wanted to give you guys something before I disappear into my books again. My last papers are due this week, so I plan to write like a fiend on the flights home for Thanksgiving.

As always, thanks so much for your amazing feedback. Even when I'm not updating, y'all keep commenting. Amazing. Best readers ever.

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Seven years of life packed into two suitcases and a small shipping crate. Within those boxes were yards of fabric that were hand woven for me by women I had worked with, pictures of the children I had taught, and a very small bag of dirt so that some of Kenya's soil could be in my yard in California, among other things. And it all smelled like home.

As I'm standing here at Nairobi International, checking in at the Kenya Airways gate, I'm still not entirely sure that I know what I'm getting myself into.

Through an amazing series of events, I didn't end up taking the job that I was initially offered that got this whole adventure off the ground. Instead, Yusef lobbied for me to be transferred to Oxfam America and be hired on as an Education Specialist. I honestly didn't realize until I read the job description that "Education Specialist" was what I had wanted to do all along.

After a six-week vacation that Oxfam was giving me to re-enter into American life, it would be my job to travel around the country to colleges, universities, high schools, community centers; basically wherever would let me speak, and tell them about the rest of the world. Specifically, of course, the HIV/AIDS pandemic, as that's my area of specialty, but my new supervisor had informed me that I would be expected to be an expert on a wide range of social justice topics. So, along with my luggage from Africa, my new apartment would be filled with briefing memos.

Of course, as is only logical to myself, I haven't told Troy any of this.

"Miss Evans, here is your boarding pass for London," the gate agent interrupted my reverie. "Your bags are checked through to Los Angeles, but you will need to check in again with the British Airways gate attendant in London." The pleasant woman handed me an envelope full of tickets and receipts and my passport. I thanked her and took a deep breath before turning around.

Yusef, Dinah, Pascal and about fourteen other people were waiting behind me for one last goodbye. I tried to savor every moment, but many of their faces are blurry to my memory as they were clouded by my tears.

I will forever, however, vividly remember what Dinah told me as she hugged me for the last time.

"Now you listen to me, honey child," she whispered fiercely into my ear. "When you see that boy, you grab him and you kiss him and don't you dare come up for air until you absolutely have to. Repeat that cycle for the rest of your life or so help me, I will swim across the Atlantic if I have to in order to kick your scrawny white ass."

Through laughter that was mixed with tears, I assured her that that was in my plan.

I stepped back from her embrace and bit my lip. Looking at everyone who had gathered to see me off one last time, I closed my eyes slowly and took a deep breath. I tried to speak, imagining that I would impress them with words of collective wisdom and thanks. However, when I opened my mouth to speak, my throat was clogged with tears.

"You'll just never know," I started before having to compose myself again. "None of you will ever know how much you have shaped me and how much you have my heart, forever. I will never be able to… " I dissolved into tears again, but I could tell from the looks on everyone's faces that they knew what I was saying. There were nods of understanding all around and even more tears.

Okay, seriously, if I don't leave now, I might just stop breathing.

I gathered my bags and made my way through security. As my Kenyan family disappeared completely from view, I absolutely could not stop the tears from rolling down my face. Troy's words from that matatu that day were echoing in my head. I knew that what I was running towards was going to be fabulous. I was going to have an amazing job and I was going to be in a relationship with an amazing man for at least the foreseeable future and I was going to be within quick flying distance of my brother. All of these things equal fabulous in my life.

However, in the category of "things that do not equal fabulous" are all of the things that will not be part of my life in America. The sound of the children greeting me in unison at every school I went to in their precious little accents. The frenetic hustle of the market and how it was just as likely for me to buy shoes made of old tires as shoes made of designer leather. My favorite flavors of Fanta and afternoon tea. My life was going to be in a completely different rhythm on the other side of this journey and it felt like getting on this plane here in Nairobi was consenting to that change for once and for all.

As I made my way down to the south end of the terminal to get one last cup of Java House coffee before my flight (and buy about six bags of it because Troy threatened not to let me into his house if I didn't bring him enough coffee), my phone signaled that I had a text message.

I am so excited to see you that I just might not let you get back on that plane in January. I love you. Safe Flight.

Oh, if only he knew.

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I have ten pounds of Java House for you. Is that enough to win your love?

I laughed out loud and Gabi looked at me strangely. Not wanting to explain, I just muttered, "Texting Sharpay."

Hm… how dirty can I get with this…

Only if you personally present them.

Of course, I've got about ten dirtier comments to go along with that one… mostly involving what she should be wearing when she presents said coffee…

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I cocked my eyebrow up at that text. I mean, seriously, I've got about ten dirty responses floating around in my head…

Is clothing optional?

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I am completely in love with this woman.

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Okay, I don't embarrass easily, but I can feel my cheeks turning a little pink.

Bolton, I never consented to Saran Wrap. Ever.

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Fine. If you insist. I'll accept your coffee in the nude.

As soon as I pressed 'send', I knew what she was going to send back to me.

I never asked for you to be nude. Gross. Boy parts.

I chuckled and typed quickly.

Fine. I'll wear clothes. But no promises as to how long you get to keep yours on.

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I snapped a quick picture of my face pretending to be scandalized and added a message to my text.

Mr. Bolton, I do declare.

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I was about ready to type something ridiculous when another text bleeped into my system.

Sry, need get ready for flight. Love you. Call from London.

I typed back a quick response of 'okay' and reminded her that I loved her and finally made eye contact with Gabi, who had been staring me down for a few minutes.

"You have a ring, right?"

I stared at her and briefly rolled my eyes.

"Seriously? You're not ready to propose?"

I screwed up my face at her, "Gabi, I'm attempting to have an actual relationship. Not one from a Nora Ephron movie. We had a great month together and we love each other. It's probably a good idea to see if we can date in America before we commit to forever and ever."

"None of that answered my actual question."

"What are we talking about," Andrew interrupted, as he walked into the room.

"Loverboy was just texting Blondie and avoiding my question about rings," his wife replied as I stuck out my tongue at her.

"Engagement rings?" Andrew asked. He was casually flipping through the mail, clearly not concerned with the panic look I was throwing him.

"Yes, engagement rings, Andrew," Gabi huffed. "He won't admit if he's bought one or not."

Andrew looked at me strangely and began to talk before he read my expression, "Of course he has one. We picked it up from the jeweler's last week."

"TROY!"

"Thanks, Andrew. Way to be a pal," I replied dryly.

"What? Like I wasn't supposed to know that you wouldn't tell Gabi?"

"HELLO!! Not addressing my question!"

"There was a moment, yes, when I specifically asked you not to tell Gabi."

"Sorry," was Andrew's only reply. I glared up at him to see him wiggling his eyebrows at me. It's really awesome when your best friend is on your side at all times. "She was bound to find out eventually."

"HELLO! Hormonal woman being denied key information over here!"

I sighed, "Fine, Gabi. I have a ring. It was my grandmothers and I had it resized. However, I have no proposal plan and I'm not going to, like, carry it around in my pocket the whole time or anything."

She glared at me. "But you've thought this out enough that the ring has been resized."

"Clearly."

She looked over at Andrew, "Ten bucks he doesn't even last the first week she's here."

"I'll take that action."

"Over under?"

"I don't think he'll last the first day."

I sighed loudly, grabbed my phone and stood up. "Well, obviously, this isn't fun for me anymore, so I'm going to go."

I could hear them laughing as I climbed into my car. Glad to provide entertainment.

If I was honest with myself, I was actually pretty scared of what life would look like when Shar got off the plane. It's like in Elizabethtown where they realize that they peaked on the phone. I'm a little afraid that we're going to realize that we peaked in Africa.

And let's not even discuss the fact that I actually only get a total of thirteen days with her before she flies back. How in God's name am I supposed to put her back on that plane if it goes as well as I think it's going to?

I sighed and checked my watch. Better go distract myself somehow. She doesn't land for another … oh, forever hours. Guitar Hero it is.