Welcome back everyone to another chapter! I know it's been awhile, but although this story seems like it's not going anywhere, I can promise you I am invested in finishing this story! I'm really excited to share with you another chapter installment, so happy reading!

Emily's POV: September 7th, 1963

"Oh no, Francie."

"What do you mean Emily? It's darling!"

"Yes, darling for a woman of questionable morals perhaps, but not you."

"Oh hush, you're just scandalized over the hem line. I think it's beautiful. I'm taking it!"

Francie grabs the heinous looking deep blue dress that would make any woman at the D.A.R. faint from fright and fear that the world was finally and truly going to hell.

Today was part of the Final Weekend of Freedom for the girls at Smith, so Francie and I thought it was finally time to pick out a few much needed necessities for the oncoming winter that had decided to knock on our doors the minute we got back to school. I was simply looking for a new scarf and brown leather gloves so my fingers wouldn't freeze on the way to my classes, but it seemed as if Francie came into the small boutique in town in order to find herself questionable clothing items that would have her banned from campus.

"If you change your mind, we're the same size Emily. You could borrow it once your done being a patronizing ninny who forgot she's living in the 20th century. "

I roll my eyes and scoff while I browse Ana's Boutique's selection of winter scarves. There was one I was eyeing in the way back of the selection, but I didn't want to seem too desperate to get at it. "Trust me Fran. I won't be borrowing that dress any time soon. Or ever for that matter."

Francie cocks her eyebrow at me and gives me a knowing smirk as she walks away from me towards the register. I finally find the scarf I'm looking for and follow her so we can get out of here before we buy everything in sight. The woman at the register starts speaking to Fran about what a great purchase she is making and that the dress was made by a French designer who was bound to take the United States by storm. Francie, being the natural social butterfly that she was, smiles and responds to the young girl who keeps going on and on about the French blue dress and I start to feel a tad bit irritated while I stand here waiting to be serviced. I keep it in though, because I know how much I hated watching my mother drill department store workers for not anticipating her picky and unrelenting needs.

Francie's purchase finally finishes and I walk up to the girl who gives me nothing but a nod, quick hello and rings up my purchases. Once I am done paying, I give her a quick smile and walk towards the exit where Francie is waiting for me.

"Where's Catherine this afternoon," Francie asks as we walk back to our house.

The cold air is starting to really do a number on my cold and delicate fingers so I quickly rummage through my shopping bag and find my much-needed gloves. "I believe she's getting her hair done in preparation for the first week of classes."

Francie lets out a small "huff" and I can sense her rolling her eyes even though I cannot see her actually doing the task. "Why is she prepping? It's not like there are any boys on campus to show off for."

I hide a small mischievous smile, but can't really hold in the comment that goes along with my smirk. "Well…there are always the male professors."

Francie's green eyes go wide as she instinctively tightens her coat around herself. "Emily, that's so scandalous! How dare you say such a thing."

It's my turn to roll my eyes as I grab Francie's arm and link mine through hers. "Oh stop Francie. You and I both know that Catherine loves a good flirtation with a professor every semester."

"Yes but she shouldn't be exposing herself to such a scandal. Doesn't she remember Leslie Pepperton during our freshman year? She…she—," at the mention of Leslie Pepperton, Francie starts to look all around the street with a paranoid look in her eyes and lowers her voice to a whisper. "She was taken out of school by her parents during the Christmas holidays and she never came back. And then when we came back for the new semester, Professor Holiday had 'resigned.'"

I keep my eyes forward and listen to my heels click rhythmically on the concrete. The Leslie Pepperton Scandal of our freshman year was a story for the ages. I had met her before she was pulled from school—talked to her maybe once or twice in between classes—and although no one ever said what exactly happened, all the girls knew why Leslie never came back after the holiday vacation and why Professor Holiday was asked to resign his position as head professor of the History department at Smith. We were always privy to certain information around campus, but the key was to keep silent about it. And if we were silent about it, it meant we were none the wiser about the truth.

Almost as if it had never happened.

I take a deep breath and continue on my way towards our house and simply enjoy the scenery that we're privileged to experience here at Smith. Afternoons like this were what I secretly lived for while I was at school. I didn't want to sound like a pretentious transcendentalist writer who was immersed in their high and mighty and albeit, boring poetry, but here at Smith, the atmosphere all around made me truly cherish how well man and nature were equally balanced. I longed for this place when I was away, and when I was here, I was always dreading the day I had to leave. As cold as it was and as hectic as the days could be, this place had quickly become home to me. Leaving was synonymous with saying goodbye to an old friend you told all your secrets to and could enjoy a cup of tea with…but only for a little while.

As Francie and I walk back to our house arm in arm, I feel almost indebted to how beautiful fall looks on this canvas. It was romantic and tender, with the reds, browns and fading greens of the trees, and the potential of snow just around the corner. It was so close you could smell it in the air. But of course, those thoughts were just for me. They would make my mother laugh and my father would probably shrug and say he had no time for idle thoughts. And Hopey? She would most likely smile and say that there must be helium in the air because my head was floating towards the clouds. Letting people know what I thought only ever seemed to make my pleasant ponderings feel childish and irrelevant. So I learned over the years to keep those thoughts silent and to verbalize what was on my mind only if it truly mattered.

"You're awfully quiet Emily. Penny for your thoughts?"

I look over to my best friend and realize we've made it all the way to Celia's Diner without one word passing between us.

Huh. Maybe I do have my head in the clouds.

"It's nothing really. Just thinking about the course work for this semester. I'm considering whether or not I made the right choices and if it's perhaps too much to handle."

Francie squeezes my arm, gives me a small smile and stops walking. "Emily, you are going to do more than great! You're one of the top students in the history department and you are always so focused and one step ahead of every one. I wouldn't be surprised if you graduated with honors!"

I laugh and grab Francie by both her shoulders as a sign to stop prattling on about my so-called "academic excellence." "Francie, please stop! Your flattery is too much. But I think you're the one who will be graduating with the honors and a prestigious academic title to boot. Any graduate program would be lucky to have you."

"That sounds about right to me, Francie. You should listen to your best friend more often," we hear a male voice say from behind us. I didn't know what it was about him, but Arthur had a funny way of always showing up when we were outside of the Smith walls. Catherine and I always liked to call it the "Francie Radar." Always active and incredibly accurate as to the location of Francie at all times.

"Hello Arthur," Francie says with a small shiver in her voice due to the cold…or something else if I do say so myself.

"What are you ladies doing out? Better get back indoors soon, it looks as if the sun isn't doing much to keep us warm out here." Arthur was in his traditional blue jeans, white shirt tucked in and a black button up shirt that was currently blowing freely in the wind.

Very…common.

"We were just out shopping for some clothes for the new semester! I went a little overboard and didn't get much that would help me keep warm, but that's alright," Francie replies with a big smile on her face and her dimples perpetually plastered to the corners of her smile. Arthur smiles back and rakes a hand through his hair while he holds on to a shopping bag of his own in the other.

"It looks like you went on a bit of an excursion yourself Arthur. What do you have there," Francie says as she points towards his bag.

Arthur looks down and gives us a bashful smile. "Oh, it's nothing. I was just over at Sam's Art Supply and picked up a few new things. I'm trying to teach myself how to draw with charcoal, so I needed that and a few new sketchbooks."

Francie unlinks our arms and reaches over towards Arthur and squeezes his arm. "That's so great that you are so dedicated to learning so much more about what you can do with your gift. Maybe Emily and I could be in one of your new drawings! Doesn't that sound like fun Emily?"

Francie turns back around to me and I give her an apprehensive smile. "Of course. Well, Francie we should probably go. We don't want to be late for our house meeting. Arthur, have a good rest of the day."

Arthur nods and begins to walk towards the diner, but not before calling out to Francie saying, "I might take you up on that offer Fran! I'll see you two soon!"

Francie waves enthusiastically, then links her arm back in through mine as we begin to walk again. "Arthur's such a sweetheart. We must visit him more often. I think he's lonely when we aren't around."

"Why are you so interested in keeping that boy company? Is there something you've been meaning to tell me," I ask with an inquisitive tone.

Francie looks at me with a confused look on her face, and I simply give her a look that says she knows exactly what I am talking about.

Francie pulls her coat tight and begins to walk faster almost as if she is trying to run away from this avenue of conversation. "You know that's not how I think of him. And you and Catherine always implying that he is somehow in love with me is cruel and incredibly untrue."

"Or it's brutally honest and completely true. And you denying it only makes us talk about it more because it is so unbelievably obvious."

"I..I have a boyfriend. And I love him. He's what I want." Francie's voice goes quiet as she looks down at her dark blue heels.

"Oh we don't contest that whatsoever. But you being overly-friendly with Arthur, our diner server, may give him some ideas that shouldn't be passing through his mind."

A silence falls between us again as we finally make it back to the house and walk up the stairs to our room. As we enter, we take off our coats, hats, heels and gloves and go about our business, still enveloped in this odd silence that we've brought home with us. Francie takes out her gigantic Shakespeare anthology while I take out my planner and begin writing down what else I need to get done before the weekend is up. I didn't mean to put Fran in an awkward position concerning Arthur, but it was always hard for me to understand why she was so genuinely open to anyone who crossed paths with her. Where we grew up and how we grew up, we were taught to always pick our friends from our own social pool. It sounds elitist I know, no one knew that better than I did, but it was always drilled into my head that socializing outside of this bubble—this sheltered and delicately constructed bubble—was a big, gigantic "No." I guess I was just in awe of Fran being able to see people as they were, complex human beings with lives that were just as meaningful as ours, no matter what kind of income they made or what side of the street they just so happened to grow up on.

That was something to admire, and sometimes I wish I had the same mindset. But my mother and father had always told us that we could never afford to think otherwise. We were safe in our bubble, even if at times I was dying to get out of it.

"Henry lied to me the last time we spoke," I hear Francie quietly say from her side of the room, thus pulling me out of my thoughts.

"What," I ask as I turn around in my desk chair.

Francie looks down at her hands in her lap as she sits on her bed with her anthology still closed beside her. "He lied to me the last time we spoke. I'm not stupid. I know he has his faults and I know the stress of his coursework at Yale and the pressure of his parents can make him lose his way a little, but the last time we spoke, he said his internship in New York ended at the end of July, but when I spoke to his mother, she said he had been back home since mid-July. It may not be anything big, maybe it was just a mistake but…" at this, Francie looks up, this time with her green eyes shimmering with what looks like potential tears. She turns and looks out the window and takes a deep breath in through her nose and out her mouth. "But who knows what really happened…maybe he wrote the date down wrong and simply forgot to tell me. It's nothing really. I just…I just hope that's the only thing he forgot to mention is all."

I get up out of my chair and join Francie next to her on the bed. I wrap my arms around her small waist and lay my head on her shoulders knowing very well that this was all I could really do to help. It wasn't up to me to say anything about what happened between Henry and I, because if I did, I knew Henry would eventually twist it and make it seem like I was the one who had done something wrong on the night that I had been trying so hard to forget.

So instead, I simply sat there in silence, holding Fran and knowing that the lies men told were the things our mothers had trained us to take in stride. We were there to support the men we loved.

Not to question their motives. And even at times their morals.

"I'm sure he just forgot," I say quietly into the air. The only response I receive is Fran's head nodding in the affirmative.

The only bright side to this was that soon, we would learn to forget as well.

O~O~O~O

Richard's POV: September 7th, 1963

I hear the door slam behind me and hear Michael's rapid breathing as he paces back and forth across our dorm room floor. I look up from my desk where I have been reading a book off of my fall reading list and notice Michael's hair is sticking up in vastly different directions.

"Did you try running the perimeter of the school again? Michael, you know running makes you queasy."

"No…I..she…she's…," Michael tries to explain, but all I get from him is a bunch of incoherent mumbo-jumbo.

"Michael, maybe you should sit down. You're looking pale."

Michael starts to rapidly shake his head no. "She's in town Richard! She's going to be at Iris' tonight! Tonight, Richard!"

I squint at my best friend in confusion and watch as he dashes to his closet and starts throwing out all types of dress shirts from his disheveled collection.

"Who? Who's in town," I ask as I get up and contemplate tying my roommate to his bed due to the fact that he might hurt himself.

"Lilian!" Michael desperately shouts from his closet. "I confirmed with Percy who confirmed with Gwen who confirmed that Lilian is, in fact, coming in to town for the night. They're going to be at Iris' in half an hour and I need to find the right damn shirt! She said last time I saw her that she liked the checkered pattern."

The floor becomes flooded with a bunch of Michael's clothes until I hear him let out a victory cry and pulls out a button down shirt that is incredibly wrinkly. He walks over to his bed and rummages underneath until he finds his iron. At this point he is mumbling under his breath and has deep-set crazy eyes as he pays meticulous attention to his dress shirt.

"Michael, you may want to calm down there. It's not as if she's going anywhere," I say as I put away my book, lean back against my desk and take a sip out of my coffee mug.

"She is the girl of my dreams Richard. And I'll be damned if someone gets to buy her a drink before I do!"

I smile in to my mug and shake my head as I watch Michael pay particular attention to ironing his shirt. Normally, I would try to talk more sense into him, but I remember what it was like courting Pennilyn in our first few months of knowing each other. Every time I knew I was going to have the chance to see her, I would find myself tugging at my suit jacket or playing with my glasses just to make sure she never saw me with crooked frames on my nose. The prospect of her being mine at the end of all our nervous drivel and extra caution to always look good when we saw each other at the beginning of our relationship was something we would always talk about in our letters. How our hearts would race at just the thought of being in each other's presence in just a few short hours and how we couldn't help but smile widely when we were finally with one another. After a year had gone by, our love for each other had lessened to a subtle hum rather than a loud persistent want, but I knew that Pennilyn still loved what we had. And soon, I would find my way back to being the man she fell in love with, and not this fractured mind that was contemplating taking back a ring that was promised to her for the rest of her life.

After I notice Michael is almost done with his shirt, I set my mug down and pick up my coat that's hanging in my own closet. As I put it on, Michael airs out his shirt and begins to button it up and tuck it in. I walk up to him with an inquisitive look on my face and point to his arm. "You missed a spot," I whisper as I head for the door.

Michael frantically turns towards his arm and begins to wipe at himself. I can't help but start laughing as I hold the door open and watch as my roommate loses his mind at the non-existent wrinkle in his shirt.

"Michael it's a joke," I yell from the door and motion for him to walk out with me. "Come on, get your damn coat on so we can get you to your girl."

O~O~O~O

For the amount of hours we spent at Iris', you'd think we practically lived at this pub. As we walk in, the crowd of people and smoke greets us at the door, but I know exactly where to find Percy and the twins. I guide an anxious Michael toward Percy's table, which for some odd reason, he always manages to acquire despite there always being a crowd of people in this place every single night. When we finally spot our friends, I can just feel Michael buzzing in his shoes because in front of us is Percy, Finn, Marcus and two girls in the booths. Finn and Marcus are at the next table talking to a cute pair of girls, while Lilian—tall, brunette and button nosed Lilian—is smiling at Percy and the girl he is currently having an engaged conversation with. The girl, Gwen Pickford, or Smiles to us, is frantically gesticulating in the air, while Percy is running his hand through his blonde hair.

"All I'm saying," Gwen says with excitement in her voice and gesturing to herself with both hands, "is that Plath deserves so much more credit for bringing about a true advancement in confessional poetry. Her way of being brutally honest about what she felt, what she was thinking and being a woman at that—" at this comment, Percy scoffs and folds his arms in front of him, his hair no longer perfectly in place, but sticking up everywhere due to the excessive amount of stress-pulling.

Gwen raises her index finger towards him and cocks her head to the side. "Don't scoff, Travers. You and I both know a woman, not in our lifetime, would ever be allowed to really leave her confessions and secrets all out there for the world to read, let alone be notably published for doing so!" Gwen stops talking, picks up her pint and takes a long gulp.

Percy only laughs as he sets one hand on the table and the other at the end of the booth, thus making a human cage around Gwen. "You make it sound as if your idol deserves a Nobel Peace Prize for being a complainer who only received her notoriety by masking her massive chip on her shoulder with frilly, big words that only made her sound pretentious and important! When in fact all she was was whiney child!"

Gwen sighs in exasperation and throws both her arms in the air. "Pretentious and important? Isn't that written in Latin on the Travers' family crest back in London or wherever it is you're from again?"

Lilian snorts into her glass, proceeds to set it down and looks up to find Michael and I approaching the table.

"So quick witted Smiles," Percy begins, "but tell me this—"

"Look!" Lilian yells, thus interrupting Percy's rebuttal, and points at us. "Michael and Richard are here!"

Percy and Gwen both turn to us and smile in our direction.

"Mates!" Percy yells and gives us each a hug. "Finally! Please Richard, tell this delusional bird that Sylvia Plath was nothing more than a professional whiner who shouldn't be praised for anything more than that!"

Gwen rolls her eyes, slides off the booth and gives Michael and me a warm hug. Her petite size causes her to stand on her tiptoes so she can properly reach us. "It's so good to see you both! You remember Lilian?" Gwen points to her companion who is also standing up to greet us as well.

At this, Michael's eyes widen with shock and excitement. "Of—of course! Lilian! So good to see you again! How was your summer?"

I lean in to Michael nonchalantly and whisper, "A little bit lower on the voice, it sounds as if you got hit in the nuggets."

Michael clears his throat and extends his hand towards Lilian. She smiles a bright white smile and reaches for Michael's hand and pulls him in for a sweet hug. "Michael, we are past cordial handshakes. Hugs are more my preference."

When Lilian let's go she reaches up for me next and does the same. As I embrace her, I can see Michael latching on to the table because he is on the verge of toppling over.

Once all the hellos are over a done with, the girls go back to their seats and Percy enters the other side of the booth and sits down. I watch as Michael begins fidgeting with his collar amidst the newly present awkward silence after everyone has taken their seats. Percy looks over to Michael and I sense he's finally catching on to the fact that Michael is on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Percy and I exchange looks and mutually move our gaze towards Lilian. The nice thing about Percy was you never had to explain anything in depth about a certain situation. He always caught on quick.

Percy smirks over at me and I can see a twinkle in his eye as he sits up straighter in his seat. "Lilian you're awfully quiet, love. Tell us, how goes school so far? Smiles over here gets more and more radical despite your conservative scholastic surroundings. I hope you're not following her down the path towards hell."

Lilian giggles as she watches Gwen make a mean face at Percy's comments. "Gwen isn't radical, she's just strongly opinionated."

"Thank you, dear," Gwen replies as she picks up a handful of peanuts from the bowl in the middle of the table.

"And school is well. We just can't wait for Penny to get back from her European excursion though. I'm afraid she's going to be so terribly behind once she's back."

Gwen and Lilian had become good friends of ours thanks to my relationship with Pennilyn. In fact, Pennilyn and I met because Michael was a childhood friend with Gwen and Gwen and Pennilyn had met in their freshman classes. When Gwen would visit Michael on weekends, she began to bring Pennilyn more and more and somehow, we had all eventually become socially linked and this odd amalgamation of friendship quickly ensued. Lilian was the newest addition to our group, having met Pennilyn and Gwen during the middle of their Sophomore year, which simultaneously thrilled and terrified Michael when they first met. Lilian always had a way of lighting up any room with her smile. Michael never stood a chance, not after they first shook hands and she transfixed him with her perfect pearly whites and deep green eyes.

"She says she misses you all the time, Richard, just so you know," Lilian directs her comment to me about my fiancé who will be home in just a few short weeks.

I give her a small smile and lift my pint up. "Let us hope."

"And whatever happened to your grades in maths Lilian? You were struggling with those damn fractal geometry courses last I checked?" At this questioning from Percy, I can feel Michael straighten up in his chair. Everyone knew Michael was a genius when it came to numbers; it was a wonder he didn't double major in Math and Business Econ. The last time Lilian spoke of her problems in her math courses, Michael had chickened out and refused to ask her if she needed additional help. Both Percy and I had to push him into one tutoring lesson with her, and he couldn't muster up the courage to ask her if she wanted to make it a regular thing.

"You know who is incredible at maths my dear Lilian?" Percy was really laying it on thick. "He's practically a math genius you could say. A true mathematical prodigy in my humble opinion."

I sigh and nudge Percy in the ribs so he can get to the point.

Percy coughs and tightens his tie before continuing. "My mate Michael over here could help you with your math courses. I know he helped you that one time last year, but if you're still struggling, I know for certain he wouldn't be opposed to helping you once more. I'm positive he wouldn't leave a beautiful young lady such as yourself in perpetual distress, would you buddy?" Percy leans over the table and watches Michael's face go from red, to white, to a shade of green I've only ever seen once and that was after Michael got drunk his first time our Freshman year.

"Percy?" Gwen says from her seat. "Can I speak with you outside?" Her tone is pleasant, but we all knew too well that when Gwen took that tone, we were in serious trouble.

"I'm in the middle of a discussion with your friend here Smiles."

"I'm aware," Gwen smiles sweetly. "But there really is something urgent I would like to speak to you about. Outside."

Percy fixes her with an impatient glare that says something along the lines of 'make me.'

"Percy," Gwen says his name in a warning tone.

"Fine Smiles," Percy replies as he gets out of his seat. "But you better not try anything funny." He offers her his hand so she can lift herself out of the booth then quickly drops it to put his hands in his jacket pockets.

Lilian watches them walk out in a confused manner, then turns back to my sickly green best friend and me. "I—if Percy was right in his assertion that you are in fact a mathematical genius Michael, I would really love some help like last time. Whenever you can of course, I know how hectic your schedule must be."

Michael looks up in shocked surprise, and I can't help but nudge him hard like I did with Percy earlier. It was always so odd watching Michael court Lilian. Although everyone knew that there was something more between the two of them, Michael and Lilian were far too alike when it came to their shyness. They were both incredibly too nice about being a bother to each other, which is why this courtship was so agonizingly slow.

"If that's what you would like Lilian. I would be more than happy to help you."

Lilian smiles in his direction and that sparkle in her eyes re-appears, causing Michael to match it with his own reluctant smile.

I grab Percy's abandoned pint and take a large gulp as I watch Michael and Lilian get comfortable on their side of the booth talking about their schedules and when it would be best to meet for their first tutoring session.

I'm sure if Percy wasn't being yelled at by Smiles at this very moment for meddling, he and I would both be thinking the same thing.

Finally.

O~O~O~O

After our successful night out, we all headed back to our rooms. Percy was nursing the back of his head for the entire walk back to campus, saying that Smiles had a very good slap. Michael was in a shocked daze the entire walk, which left me alone with my own thoughts, which, as of late, I was starting to despise. These days, I wasn't very willing to be left alone with my own quandaries and ideas, because those were the mental avenues that were causing me so much trouble. It was why I wasn't in the biggest mood to talk about Penny tonight, and it was why I was finding myself becoming less social and talkative about how I was doing and how the wedding plans were going. You could say it started right after Pennilyn's parent's divorce announcement. Our social circle was never eager to talk about what happened behind closed doors, but once the doors crashed open with all the problems couples were having and how they had been sleeping in separate bedrooms for months, it made us all start evaluating ourselves more than we wanted to. My father had passed away many years ago, and it was common for my mother to always be traveling, so I never quite understood how other family dynamics worked in our world, but holding Pennilyn in my arms after our friends found out about the divorce was heartbreaking and also incredibly revealing.

This time of separation with Pennilyn was riddled with many different feelings and ideas about how realistic we were being about our own relationship and whether or not our marriage could actually work. And then to add on top of that, I couldn't stop thinking about our goodbye at the airport and how she silently cried in to my coat and how I squeezed her to me for a very long time. As she held onto me, I could feel her engagement ring pressing into my back, knowing that she held the most precious promise any man could ever give to a woman.

A promise of commitment. A promise of generosity, care, love and family.

And as I waved goodbye to her and watched as she blew me a final kiss in my direction, I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach that hadn't gone away since that day.

Perhaps what we had would fail and crumble in the eyes of our friends and family. Perhaps I wasn't the man she needed by her side during this trying time.

And to make matters worse, as I walked to my parked car outside the airport, the worst possible thought crept to the forefront of my mind.

Perhaps the reason I had all these doubts was because I didn't want to be the man who stood by her side during this horrible time and for many years after this trial.

This was why I didn't want to be left alone with my thoughts. I wasn't about to ruin this story that was inevitably going to be written for Pennilyn and me. No matter what happened, or what I thought, Pennilyn and I were made for each other.

Everyone thought so.

And I would continue to remember that, even if my heart was telling me otherwise. A man who listened to his heart instead of his head was bound to make the biggest mistake of his life.

And Gilmore's never made mistakes.

And that's it for now! Poor Richard has a bad case of "cold feet" huh? I really hope you all enjoyed and I cannot wait to be finished with the next chapter (yes, it is already in the works). Who knows what will happen? Maybe another interaction between Emily and Richard? Guess you'll just have to stick around to find out right?

Right!

I hope you all had a lovely Valentine's Day and I will see you when I see you! I can't promise when I will be back, but I am shooting for a shorter wait between chapters, so fingers crossed!

xoxo

Priscilla