I apologize, because I posted this story so long ago and it's been forever since anything new has been updated, but now that I've finished my trilogy, this story is now my focus. This chapter is kind of a filler, but it does explain why Tommy left, a little bit about Nic, and them getting to Hilton Head. If you don't know what Hilton Head is, it's pretty much the greatest place on the planet! We vacation there every year. In fact, last year while there, I wrote a lot of The Comeback. Anyways, here's the second chapter and even though nothing exciting really happens, chapter three should be good and up in a couple of days, hopefully.

Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.

Tommy stood at the window in his bedroom of his Montreal penthouse, looking out at the rain that was falling. Rain definitely seemed fitting of his mood lately, but he was praying for the sun to break through.

"Would you please get out of your house?" Nic begged, letting herself into the room. "I'm leaving for Hilton Head in the morning and you should come."

"Do you ever knock?" he grumbled, closing the blinds. "And if I've told you once in the last three months, I've told you a million times- I am not going to Hilton Head!"

"Okay, Squinty," she started, using a nickname she'd heard from Spiederman, "calm down."

"What did you call me?" he demanded.

Nic began to panic, but she'd always learned to think on her feet. "Well, when you get mad, your face gets all squinty, duh. Anyways, I hate to get all brutally honest on you here, bro, but your marriage is officially over and you need to move on. You didn't love Megan, anyways."

"Yes, I did," he told her. "Why else would I have married her?"

"Because she could've passed for Jude Harrison's stunt double and you're still in love with her," Nic answered.

"I am not!" he denied. "I haven't seen or heard from Jude in three years."

Nic rolled her eyes. "Tommy, you called Megan 'Jude' while you two were having sex. Either you still love the girl or you had the Beatles stuck in your head. In this case, I'm going with the first option."

"Nic," he groaned, running a hand through his messy brown hair. "Let it go. I don't need a vacation; I need my life back."

"Then go get it," Nic shrugged, falling onto his bed. "How hard would it be for you to go to Toronto, tell Georgia you want your job back, and fall into your little cat-and-mouse game with Jude again?"

He shook his head tiredly. "It wasn't like that." He turned to face her. "Yes, fine, I loved Jude. And for a while after I left, I still did. Now, though, I've moved on and I'm sure she has, too."

"You have no idea," Nic mumbled, just quiet enough so he couldn't hear her. "Fine, don't go on vacation for yourself then. Go for me so I don't have to invite one of my stupid so-called friends."

"I hate it when you do this," he finally consented.

"Do what?" she wondered, even though she knew.

"Guilt me into horrible ideas because you turn on your ridiculous whine," he explained, knowing she knew what he meant. "When do we leave?"

"Tomorrow morning at 9:30," she smirked. "I already booked your seat."

He scoffed and led her down the hall to his kitchen. "I'm not surprised." He opened the refrigerator. "Are you hungry?"

"Yeah, Toronto always tires me out," she yawned, hopping onto a stool at his bar. "Could you make tourtière?"

"Oh, sure," he joked. "Do I look like Tallie?" he asked, referring to their childhood family cook. "What about taco salad?"

"All right," she sighed. "So, I ran into Kwest when I was there," she told him.

Tommy looked up at her quickly. "Really? Did he say anything?"

"We had coffee," she lied. "He said G-Major was pretty much the same, Darius loves LA, and Jude still cries herself to sleep at night."

"She does?" he whispered. "Why?"

Nic rolled her eyes. "Oh, because she lost her favorite shoe laces. Duh, Tommy, why do you think? Maybe because the love of her life walked away from her three years ago and hasn't looked back since?"

"Not now," he warned her. "I already agreed to your stupid vacation, so don't ruin it by bringing up subjects you know absolutely nothing about."

Nic wanted to protest, but held her tongue. "Fine, I'll stop."

When dinner was finished, Tommy cleaned up his plate and went back to his bedroom. He knew he needed to pack, but instead, he sat down on his couch and picked up his phone. Dialing the familiar number was awkward, but he just needed to hear her voice, even if only momentarily.

"Hello?" Jude answered on her end. "Spied," she said to her guitarist in the background. "Let go of my foot, please."

Tommy couldn't find the nerve to respond.

"Hello?" she said again impatiently. "Who is this?" Then, it was as if she knew. "Please don't call me. I'm doing fine without you now." And before he could say anything, she hung up.

"Hey, Tommy?!" Nic called into his room. "I'm going back to my house, so I'll meet you at the airport at 8:45 in the AM, okay?"

"Yeah!" he yelled out. "Bye!"

As soon as Nic was outside on the street, she pulled her Sidekick from her Coach tote bag and dialed Spiederman.

"Yeah?" he picked up.

"Tommy is a go-go," she reported. "We'll get there around tomorrow at 1:00, pick up my Ferrari, and be at the house we're staying at by 2:15. When he's sleeping, or out running, I'll make sure everything is set up for you guys on Monday."

"Nice!" he cried. "So, I gave my lawyer the divorce papers today and on Monday at 7:00 AM, it'll be finalized."

Nic sympathized. "I'm sorry it had to happen this way, Spiederman."

"You can call me just Spied," he offered. "Most people do."

"Oh," she nodded. "Well, Spied, I'm sorry you're divorced now, especially since it wasn't something you ever wanted."

His end was momentarily silent. "Call me crazy, but I believe in true love and that there's one person for everyone and apparently, Karma wasn't that one person for me. Besides, she and Jude don't get along and Jude's been my number one girl for almost five years now, so I couldn't handle their fighting anymore."

"Yeah, fighting of the spouse and best friend is not so good," she admitted softly.

"What do you mean?" he asked. "Did Tommy's wife and Kwest not get along?"

Nic took a deep breath. Since day one, Spiederman had been honest with her and it was her turn to be honest with him. "No, actually, my husband and Tommy never got along."

"You were married?" he said in disbelief. "Really?"

"Married and divorced at 19," she confirmed. "I married him in February, we were separated by April, and it took eight months, but our divorce was finalized in December."

"That was three years ago," he breathed. "You're the reason Tommy left, aren't you?"

Nic sighed. "Uhh, yeah, that was me. I never intended for him to be here as long as he was, though. See, our parents don't really parent us anymore now that we're adults, so they live in a chateau in Paris and only come around for birthdays and holidays and during the divorce, my ex-husband was causing multiple problems for me. At 19, I couldn't handle them by myself, so as always, Tommy came to my rescue. I thought he'd call and say what was going on, but he didn't and three years later, he's still here."

"Wow," he murmured. "Jude's gonna hate you."

"Ugh, why?" she demanded. "I didn't force him to stay."

"No," he agreed, "but you made him leave and that's the worst part, especially since he left without a trace."

Nic looked up at her apartment building and walked inside, waving to Lenny, her longtime doorman. "Well, I'm at my place now, so I'll just meet you on Monday."

The following morning, Nic found Tommy waiting for her at their terminal, his face hidden by a pair of aviator sunglasses and a Boston Red Sox hat.

"You're not really a big fan of baseball, are you?" she teased, sitting down next to him in one of the plastic chairs. "Can you even name like, two players for Boston?"

He continued reading the book he was holding. "David Ortiz, Curt Schilling, Manny Ramirez, Jason Varitek. Would you like me to continue?"

"Okay, very funny," she smirked, pulling an old issue of Rolling Stone from her bag. "So, aren't you excited? A month in Hilton Head, doing absolutely nothing?"

"I'll be doing some work," he admitted. "I can't just go down there for an entire month and do nothing, Nicole; I'm not you."

"Oh, funny guy," she scoffed. "As a matter of fact, I might do some work, too."

Tommy eyed his younger sister. "Nic, you're a freelance writer for various magazines, so you work on your own schedule."

"I know," she nodded. "That's why I said I might do some work."

"When's the last time you were published?" he wondered as they were called to board their first-class seats. "Like, April?"

"Umm, yeah," she answered. "But I have a four-page article about growing up the privileged rich girl in next month's issue of Seventeen."

"Gee, that took what, ten minutes to write then?" he teased. "You loved being the poor little rich girl."

"Mm-hmm," she confirmed, "until it put me through an eight month divorce situation."

He looked at her. "You don't still think about him, do you?"

"Hell, no," she shook her head. "He's one part of my past I wish I could technologically wipe out forever, but until science can do that, I just pretend he never happened."

"Good," Tommy said contentedly. "Young people make mistakes, like you did, but we fixed it."

"Tommy," she whispered softly as they settled into their seats. "You could've gone back, you know?"

"No, I couldn't," he denied. "By the time I was finished helping you out, it had been eight months and I'd met Megan. Going back would have made things worse for everyone."

Their long plane ride was mostly quiet. Tommy read his book, Nic browsed her magazine, and they both listened to their iPods while vaguely watching the movie that was being shown, I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are now landing at the Savannah airport," the pilot came over the intercom. "Please make sure all seat belts are fastened and thank you for flying with Delta Airlines today."

"So, are we picking up your Ferrari?" Tommy assumed, leading her through the terminal. "Is it still at that garage?"

She nodded and as soon as they picked up all their luggage, they made their way outside to hail a taxi that would take them to her car.

"You know, I don't think all of our bags are going to fit," Tommy observed when they got to the sports car. "I mean, the trunk can hold a few, but that's about it."

Nic shrugged. "We'll make it work."

After ten minutes of organization, the brother and sister were on their way towards the island they'd spent every childhood summer on.

"God, I love this smell," Nic breathed, taking in the ocean scent as they drove through the small town. "It's so much nicer than the smell of Montreal."

"You mean you don't like the smell of exhaust and dead fish?" he joked.

Nic rolled her eyes. "Hardly."

Finally, after just over an hour in the car, they arrived at Shipyard Plantation, the gated community that housed their two houses, and drove until they reached Sea Pines Avenue, one of the only streets in Shipyard where the houses were owned year-round and not rented.

"Here we are," she smiled, looking up at the large white mansion she and Tommy would be staying in, while secretly checking out the one next-door. "For the next month, this will be home sweet home."