A/N: Look, I did it! Your guys' reviews from the last chapter were awesome, thank you. The next three days consist of a graduation, my birthday and a flight to Italy... but there's only one chapter left... it'll be close. Long story short, I will do my best. But I appreciate how many of you said you'd understand if you have to wait. Again, you guys are awesome.

And as always, I love to hear that you are enjoying the story!

"I'll do the three-vegetable stir-fry melody, with chopsticks, please."

"For you, sir?"

Grissom was snapped to attention.

"I'll do stir-fry as well," he said. "Chicken."

"I'll be right back."

Sara set down her glass of water and stared at him.

"What?"

"What's wrong with you?" she asked lightly.

"What do you mean?"

"No 'wok-tastic'?" she said. "No 'wok this way'? You always make some kind of pun when we get carryout. It's our thing."

"Sorry. I must just be punned-out."

"Gil," she said, obviously concerned now. "What's up?"

He sighed, knowing that he'd have to fess up sooner or later. Best to get it out of the way, he supposed, although he was hoping to hold it off until after they landed in Vegas, so that, at the very least, she'd have a peaceful flight home.

"I have a confession to make," he began.

"Okay," Sara said slowly.

"I didn't run an errand for a friend this morning," he continued. "I went to see your mother."

Sara said nothing, but continued to stare at him, looking unsure of what to say. It took her several moments to make a sound.

"Why did you lie to me?" she asked softly, sounding heartbroken.

"Because… because I didn't know if you'd want me to go," he said eventually, knowing how bad the words sounded.

"So instead you decided it would be better to sneak behind my back?"

"I… I don't know why I did it," he admitted. "I should have told you. But Sara, honestly, would you have wanted me to go if I did?"

Sara just shook her head incredulously.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me."

She didn't raise her voice, and she didn't cry. But the quiet disappointment in her voice hurt more than Grissom ever thought it could.

"I'm so sorry, honey," he pleaded. "But I think I'm glad that I went, she – your mom – she said –"

"I don't want to know anything my mom said," she said, stopping him short. "You know how I feel about her, Gil. How could you think that this was a good idea?"

Grissom dropped his head and stared at his lap, feeling like a little boy being scolded.

"I'm sorry," he repeated. "I just… I could see pain in her eyes when she looked at you the other day. She wanted to badly to reach out to you, but she just couldn't do it. All things aside, she is your mother, Sara, and she does love you. I think she just wants you to know that."

He lifted his gaze from the table back to Sara's eyes, and he saw the conflict waging within her. She looked a mix of hurt, disappointed, upset, and somewhat curious.

"I messed up, honey," he said. "I knew I should have told you, I just couldn't bring myself to do it. Yell at me, call me anything you want. Sara, I understand if you're upset with me. Just… say something."

Sara shifted in her seat a little, not making eye contact.

"What did she say?" she asked timidly.

Grissom couldn't help but smile just a little. He reached into his pocket.

"She wanted me to give you this," he said, showing her the letter but not handing it to her quite yet. "But she says its up to you when you want to open it… or whether you want to open it at all. It's in your hands, honey."

He passed the envelope from his hands to hers and she stared at the handwritten name on the front. Her gaze didn't move for several moments.

"Sara?" he asked hesitantly.

She lifted her eyes to his.

"Are you okay?"

She nodded as she tucked the letter into her carry-on, which they had brought with them so they'd be able to go straight to the airport after dinner. Their waitress came back and placed two steaming plates of stir-fry in front of them, which neither of them touched.

"Do you hate me?"

She paused just slightly, and those few fleeting seconds seemed like the longest moments of Grissom's life. In seconds, thoughts of fights and tears and losing her flashed through his mind, and he realized how he couldn't even begin to contemplate or think about a life without her… when she shook her head.

"Will you tell me what you're feeling?" he prompted, relieved.

"I don't like that you weren't honest with me," she said finally. "That kills me. I thought we trusted each other."

"Sara, I –"

She held up her hand to stop him and went on.

"I'm disappointed," she admitted. "And a little hurt. But… I guess I understand why you did it."

"You… you do?" he repeated in surprise.

"Yeah," she replied. "Even though you did it all the wrong ways, you were just trying to do what was best for me. That's weird… because nobody has done that in a long while."

She took a long, slow breath and continued.

"I think if you would have asked me, I'd have told you not to go," she said. "But later… I think I might have regretted it. If it had meant so much to her for you to meet, I'd want to know why. I'm glad I have the choice to get that answer."

He reached across the table for her hands, not taking them quite yet.

"So… are we okay?"

Her eyes met his again and she looked at him for a long time before nodding. His fingers hovered towards hers, finally making contact and squeezing them slightly.

"I'm sorry, honey," he said again. "I should have asked you. I shouldn't have gone behind your back if it was something you didn't want. I just-"

"I know," she cut him off softly.

"So we're-"

"Yeah."

"You're amazing, Sara. I don't deserve you."

She beamed at him, and they ate their stir-fry one-handed, their other hands intertwined on the table. When their plates emptied, they left the Chinese diner and drove their trusty sedan to back to the rental place in San Francisco. They spent the rest of their afternoon strolling the hilly streets of the city until it was nearly time for them to head to the airport.

"Ready to go home?" he asked her.

She buried her head in his shoulder and groaned as she shook her head.

"Do we have to?"

Grissom laughed and took her hand.

"Well, we could pay heed to our evil twins, Frissom and Tara, and elope together."

Sara picked her head up and grinned back at him.

"Get married by Elvis?" she suggested. "Then have a honeymoon in Reno?"

"Sounds so like us," he said, pretending to sigh contently.

They reached a corner and Grissom held out his hand, signaling a taxi. One pulled up to them within seconds. He held the door open for Sara, and then slid in next to her.

"Airport, please," he directed the driver before turning back to Sara. "We do have to go back to work, honey."

He put an arm around her shoulder and tugged her to him.

"But I wasn't kidding about that tropical vacation," he added. "We're going to take it – and soon."

Sara nodded.

"Thanks for coming with me this weekend," she said after a pause. "I really don't think I could have done it without you."

Her fingers toyed with his as she glanced up to give him a shy smile.

"I'm glad I came too, honey," he said. "It means a lot that you wanted me here."

Sara leaned in to kiss him, and Grissom accepted her embrace, pressing his lips against hers and taking her face in his hands. They weren't aware of how long they were kissing, or even that the cab driver was speaking to himself in the front seat.

"Every time," he grumbled in disbelief. "Always the lovebirds in my cab. Who woulda thought? San Francisco… the city of love."

TBC!