Courtney told Randy that she was going to work half the day, and then get her nails done before they left for her parents' DC estate. Instead, she worked half the day and then trekked a few blocks north to Nitro's apartment.

As though it were a bolt of lightning, an epiphany struck Courtney while she was working in the shop that morning. Laying with Randy, worrying about the unresolved nature of her relationship with Nitro, and mulling over the words John had said in Vermont all had her going crazy. They were all important to her, but there was only one of them that she wanted to be with. And she was no longer willing to sacrifice her own happiness to spare anyone's feelings.

Climbing the steps to his studio, Courtney prayed that Nitro would be home. If he wasn't, she would never go through with her carefully laid out plan of attack. As she raised a trembling hand and knocked on the door, she thought over the speech that she had written in her head earlier in the morning.

There was a long silence, but as she began to knock a second time, the door slid open. "Hey," she smiled, offering him a half-wave.

Dressed only in a pair of dirty jeans, his hair was piled on top of his head and paint splattered adorned his bare chest. "Welcome back," he smiled, stepping aside for her to enter.

Courtney stepped past him and stopped in the middle of the room. "So, I've been doing a lot of thinking lately," she began, twisting her hands together in front of her. But whens he raised her eyes to his, her mind went blank. "And now I don't remember any of it," she muttered, almost to herself.

With a gracious grin, Nitro headed toward the kitchen. "Can I get you a beer?"

"No, thanks." She shook her head and returned her eyes to the floor, fighting to remember her speech. "Just give me a minute."

Hoisting himself onto the counter, Nitro looked at the young woman in the center of his floor. The way she was shifting her weight from one foot to the other and wringing her thin hands put him on edge. He cleared his throat. "Court, if you're here to "break up" with me," he started, making air quotes around the words, "just do it, okay? It's not like I haven't seen it coming or anything."

Biting her lip, she looked into his brown eyes once more. "I'm selling Ronzio," she stated quickly.

That wasn't what he had been expecting. Setting his bottle on the chrome table top beside him, he folded his hands. "Um, okay?"

With a sigh, Courtney ran her hands through her hair and walked toward him, dropping onto the stool at his side. "Okay, long story short? I went to Vermont to clear my head. Ran into an old friend who encouraged me to stop worrying about what everyone else wants for my life and just do what I want," she explained.

"I thought I told you that months ago, but go on," Nitro gave her a good-natured smile as he nudged her with his knee.

Courtney shot him a withering look and leaned against the table. "I know, I know," she conceded. "But it just clicked, ya know?" He nodded. "And what I really want is a Senate seat by my thirtieth birthday." She blushed at the admission.

Nitro was silent for a moment as he watched her sheepish posturing. "Why are you blushing?" She shrugged. "If it's what you want, Courtney, you should go for it." When she turned hopeful eyes to him, he felt his heart flutter. "Come on. I know this isn't something you would do if you didn't want to - if you were just doing it for daddy, you would have sold the shop a long time ago." He grazed her cheek with his hand as he pushed a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "I'm proud of you for finally embracing it, actually."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Courtney asked, drawing her legs up and resting her chin on her knees. "Finally embracing it?"

"It's kinda obvious, Kiddo," Nitro shrugged, taking another drink of his beer. "You think like a politician. It's in everything you do - the way you run your business, the way you argue over VH1 shows, the way you insist that you know how to make the best quesadilla ever."

She rolled her eyes. "I do. My quesadilla was so much better than yours," she scrunched her nose.

"I already told you I would vote for you if you ever ran for office, didn't I?" She nodded. "Well, you know I wasn't just sayin' it so you'd fuck me," he teased, drawing a genuine smile from the young woman beside him. "Decisions aren't always easy, for sure. But you always know when you made the right one, and I can tell that you did."

His validation of her choice to re-enter the political arena gave her a sense of satisfaction she couldn't describe. "Thank you," she whispered, laying a hand on his knee. "But that's not all I decided."

Jumping off of the counter, Nitro tossed his beer bottle into a bag in the corner and leaned across from Courtney. "Don't think I'm gonna send you and Orton lovely wedding gifts," he warned. "Just cause I'm happy you're taking control of your life doesn't mean I'm taking the high road when it comes to losing the woman I care about to a jackass, cocky motherfucker."

The laughter that rolled off of Courtney's lips like music to his ears. "Nitro," she started.

But he interrupted by pulling a folded piece of paper out of his back pocket and tossing it onto the counter between them. "It's okay, Courtney. I mean, it wouldn't have worked for us anyway, right?"

She cringed. She had come to his loft with every intention of telling him that she was going back into politics, but that she wanted to be with him. Sure, she had a past with Randy. Sure, he was the guy that would make her parents happy. And he was the guy that made the most sense for her at that point.

But it wasn't Randy that she looked forward to seeing every day at the coffee shop. And Randy wasn't the one who laid on the floor and debated Doritos v. Cheetos with her for an hour. And it wasn't Randy who made her tummy flip-flop. It was Nitro.

"I got a job offer," Nitro interrupted her thoughts, sliding the paper in his hand across the table top.

Courtney looked over the wrinkled proposal. An art museum was looking for a curator, and they had found his resume impressive. "That's really," she started, but then stopped abruptly. Her brown eyes searched his. "It's in Chicago," she said.

Nitro nodded. "Yeah." With a slight, throw-away laugh, he shrugged. "I don't even remember sending them a resume, but the guy on the phone was really cool, and it's a great opportunity. The gallery is huge, and they do independent showings once a month, so I could get my stuff out there in a big market."

As he continued to ramble on about the selling points of the new position, Courtney gripped the table top for support. She had everything planned, even down the speech she was going to give her parents about how she was falling for Nitro and that she had to do what made her happy. And him running off to Chicago was not part of the plan.

But the smile on his lips was overwhelming. How could she expect him to support her dream if she wasn't willing to support his? This was what he wanted, what they had talked about that first night in the coffee shop. She couldn't ask him to stay on her behalf. And she couldn't see herself running off to Chicago with him.

"That's great, Nitro," she smiled, emotions masked to perfection. "I'm really, really happy for you."

He rounded the counter and embraced her in a tight hug that shot bolts of electricity through both of them. Pushing her hair behind her ears again, he held her face carefully in his hands. "Kinda wish it woulda worked out for us, though," he whispered.

She could feel his breath on his lips as her eyes drifted close. Another couple of centimeters and she would lose any facade she had constructed in the last few minutes. "Everything happens for a reason, right?" she whispered, stepping away from his embrace.

"Yeah," he agreed, though his tone was anything but affirmative. "You're gonna be a great senator, Courtney Lane-Batista," he winked.

But Courtney shook her head as she he walked her to the door. "It's just Courtney Lane for now."