Hi, guys. First, I wanna say I'm really sorry about this ridiculously long hiatus. I've dealt with a lot over these months in my personal life and with my health. And I am also taking 18 credits this semester. So needless to say, I've had a lot more stress than time. One of the biggest issues though is that I started attributing some of that stress to writing instead of using it as a way to relieve stress the way I used to. I recently regained the ability to do that though and I plan to use it for this story and my book. So here's an update that I hope you all love. Thank you for your patience.

MERCEDES' POV

"Mercedes?" Stephanie called. She looked up from the note in her hand quickly then, realizing only then that she had spaced out. Her friend slash co-worker was walking cautiously into her office then, taking a seat at the chair just in front of Mercedes' desk. "Who is he?" she asked. Mercedes shook her head, looking down at her desk as tears swelled in her eyes.

"He used to be-," she shook her head again, words lost to her, "everything," she said after a while.

As she told Stephanie their epic love story, she felt everything at once-all the things she'd ever felt for him collided and exploded within her and then all at once, disappeared. And she was left with one last thing that felt distinctly like fear.

Sam Evans was in New York City. And he wanted to see her.

It was a dream come true, wrapped in a nightmare. The problem was that, she had spent the first year after they'd broken up trying to breathe without him. And she'd spent the last five years creating and leading a life that didn't involve him. A life where she didn't need him. She wasn't sure how quickly all her hard work would go down the drain once she saw him again.

For the rest of the day at work, she thought in constant circles because all she wanted was to not think about him but every single thought she had led her brain directly to an image of his face, to the sound of his laugh, to his scent-to him.

She was in trouble. She was in so much trouble.

At home she flopped down on her couch, her thoughts scrambled. She sat in silence as her mind raced, only coming back to earth when her phone suddenly rang. She didn't think she had even blinked for the last ten minutes.

"Hey, Alicia," she said, having read the caller ID.

"Hey, lady, whatcha doing?" her best friend replied, and Mercedes didn't quite understand why even the sound of her voice made her think of him.

Before she could form a response, she began to cry instead.

"Mercedes?" Alicia called, her voice suddenly solemn. Mercedes covered her mouth for a moment as she continued to cry.

"Sam is in New York," she said after a while, hating the sound of her voice drenched in sobs. Alicia was quiet for a moment before finally speaking.

"I know,"

Mercedes froze for a moment and then sat up straight on her couch.

"You-you know? What do you mean, you know?"

"I just found out today, 'Cedes, I promise. Devon told me, and I-,"

"Is that why you called me?" she asked, misplaced anger coating her voice.

"No, I call you almost everyday, that's not fair." Alicia said, her voice remaining soft. Mercedes didn't say anything for a while, her thoughts still jumbled. "Why are you crying, Mercedes?" Alicia asked, breaking the silence.

"I don't know," she said.

"Yes, you do."

"Fine, I do," Mercedes said. "I loved him, Alicia."

"I know."

"I never thought I would get married but, I wanted to marry him."

"I know."

"You know how bad it was when it ended, too. How hard it was for me to accept it," she said.

"I do," Alicia said, "I remember you would call me and and I'd have to distract you, convince you not to call him." she went on. Mercedes folded her lips in, blocking the sobs that were surging up her throat because she remembered, too. She remembered the overwhelming urge to call him swallowing her whole. It would happen at any time of the day-but it was most painful at night, when she was in bed, battling constant bouts of excruciating restlessness that she thought could only be soothed and cured if his arms were around her again. She remembered waking up with eyes so swollen from crying she could barely open them. She remembered everything.

Once the sobs had gone back down, she shook her head and began to speak again;

"He sent me a stupid gift and a note," she said.

"What did it say?"

"He wants to get together," Mercedes told her. She heard her best friend sigh.

"Do you wanna see him?" she asked. The answer that came to her mind immediately was yes. Of course she did. But everything in her told her it wasn't sensible.

"I'm with Luke,"

"So?" Alicia said.

"So?" Mercedes repeated.

"You've known each other for a long time, Mercedes. Now you're gonna live in the same city as him and just pretend he doesn't exist? Can't even be friends?"

"I haven't stopped thinking about him for almost twelve hours. I can't be his friend."

"You haven't stopped thinking about Sam from six years ago." Alicia said. "He could turn out to be completely different, you might not even like him enough to be in the same damn room as him let alone have feelings for him," Alicia said. Mercedes smiled, moving to lay down on her side on the couch. The thought was comforting, but implausible. She couldn't imagine a scenario where she didn't even like Sam Evans. But she knew her best friend was right. Six years was a long time, and just because all the memories they shared had stayed the same, didn't mean that he had. She thought then that the least she could do was show him around. But as she suddenly regained her appetite, her first order of business quickly became eating dinner. She would call him.

Soon.

SAM'S POV

"Sam?"
The sound of his name on her lips was the first red flag.

Or rather, the effect it had on him. She'd called him at around noon on Thursday, days after he'd sent her the package. He'd spent those days wondering if he'd said something wrong, if she'd lost his number, if she even cared to see him. A million different possibilities for why she hadn't responded swirled in his mind and none of them provided anything even similar to relief.

So when he'd answer the call of an unknown New York phone number, he'd been expecting it to be his new boss or someone from the office. But instead, her voice had come through the speaker, and it coursed through his entire body, leaving him speechless for a moment, and tickling the corners of mouth until they gave in, and a smile that he couldn't control spread across his lips.

"Hi," he said, and he'd hardly managed it. She was quiet for a moment and Sam wasn't sure what to make of it.

"Hey," she said, finally. And that was when he realized he'd been holding his breath.

She'd invited him to meet her at a restaurant near her job for lunch and he'd been ready to say yes to anything she said the moment she'd called.

He got there first, grabbing a table for two at the Italian restaurant she'd texted him the address to. He could feel his heart beating fast as he waited. He was about to see Mercedes Jones again.

And the thought alone brought on a whirlwind of feelings that he could honestly say he hadn't been expecting. He wondered, as he waited, if he had ever actually stopped missing sound of heels clacking against the floor made him look up from the menu.

The first thing he did when he saw her was absolutely nothing. He couldn't move. And then he stood from his chair quickly, straightening his blue button up shirt. Just as he stood, her eyes landed on him and that was the second red flag-when it felt like someone had installed a new light bulb in his mind, brightening all the darkest corners of his brain that he hadn't visited since they'd broken up, and his breathing became deep and slow. No words escaped either of them, and before he even knew it was happening, he was wrapping his arms around her.

Her scent was intoxicating, even more so than before.

And that was the third red flag-when he realized he didn't want to let her go.

But he did, moving quickly to pull her chair out for her and she smiled, looking up at him and shaking her head as she sat down.

"Southern hospitality," she said as he sat down.

"You look beautiful," he told her, because he couldn't help it.

"Thank you," she grinned, looking him in the eyes. And he felt like his heart stopped for a moment. Within a minute after they'd sat down, a waitress with red hair and a freckled face named Krista approached them, taking their drink orders and then walking away, giving them time to think about their meals.

"Before we order anything else I wanna go ahead and get one thing straight," Sam said once Krista was gone.

"What's that?"

"I will be paying for your lunch," he told her and she laughed shortly and sarcastically.

"I'll be here when you wake up from that dream," she told him.

"I don't even wanna see your wallet, Mercedes."

"Yeah, we'll see about that," she replied and he smiled. They were quiet for a moment then, both of them gazing at each other for much too long. "What?" she finally spoke, her voice suddenly softer.

"I just can't believe I'm looking at you right now," he said, sitting up in his chair, his head propped up on bent elbow and his eyes focused intently on her. She looked down at the menu then, but he saw the way the smile she was hiding lifted her cheeks. She shrugged.

"Well, you are." she half chuckled, and the sound itself made his heartbeat quicken.

"You look beautiful," he told her. She shook her head. "Did I already tell you that?"

"You did," she said.

"Sorry," he almost laughed, sitting back in his chair, his hands falling on his lap.

"It's okay," she replied softly, shaking her head. "It's really good to see you,"

"Are you kidding me? Seeing you is-good doesn't cut it," he told her. And she playfully rolled her eyes.

"Still a constant flirt," she said and he scoffed and laughed all at once. "You can't help it," she added.

"You're absolutely right," he admitted, "but I don't think any man sitting where I'm sitting right now would behave any differently,"

"You did it again," she said through a giggle.

"Okay-alright," he replied. "I'll try to control myself,"

"We'll see how that goes."

"I see your level of faith in people is still at about negative fifty," he said, looking at his menu.

"People still haven't done much to deserve it,"

"I'll be happy to change that," he replied, looking up at her.

"How?"

"By not flirting with you, remember?"

"Hmph," she breathed, looking down at her menu, clearly fighting a smile as he remembered she so often did. He shook his head as he grinned. She was so beautiful.

"Are you ready to order?" Krista suddenly asked.

"Um, yes, I'll have the small chicken salad. No croutons or cheese. And I'd like the vinaigrette instead of the dressing, please?" Mercedes said.

"Sure thing, and for you, sir?"

"I'll have the chicken parmesan with ziti, please. Thank you," he said. He wondered if she would remember that that was the first thing she'd ever cooked for him.

"Okay, I'll get your orders right in," Krista told them, taking their menus, giving them a generic smile and then flouncing away. He looked at Mercedes then and frowned slightly.

"Are you not hungry? We could've gone for coffee-,"

"No, it's not that. I'm just-on a diet," she said. His head snapped back slowly then and his eyebrows furrowed.

"A what?"

"You heard me," she retorted and he chuckled a little.

"I hope I didn't," he replied, looking curiously at her.

"What does that mean?" she asked, her eyes narrowed.

"I don't know, I just-why?"

"Because,"

"Because?" he waited. And when she finally spoke, it was explosive.

"Because I can be, Sam. Alright, which part of that seems like it's your business at all?" she snapped.

"Mercedes-,"

"You know what," she interrupted him, "I should go." And then in what seemed like seconds, she pulled out her wallet, placed the appropriate amount of money on the table and left.

Alright before you guys get mad about the weight loss trope that everybody hates for Mercedes, just know that I also hate it and that is not the point of this arc. You'll understand why it's really important as the story goes on. SO what's up with Mercedes, guys? Leave your thoughts! 3