(Thanks to demonchilde!)

MY WORLD WILL CHANGE FOR ME

Tuesday was the day Sam and Bailey were to visit Wykoff. They'd agreed that Sam would pick up Bailey from the task force and give him a ride back, since the visiting time they'd arranged coincided with Bailey's working hours. Bailey had called to say he was running a bit late, and Sam had taken the opportunity to pop into a cafe for some takeaway. So, she was standing in the parking lot, leaning against the hood of her car, sipping her coffee and munching on her apple muffin when she spotted Bailey walking out of the federal building. She stood up straight, hoping to catch his eye with the motion.

She tried to ignore the slight, perplexing wave of disquiet that was swelling inside her. She wasn't nervous about meeting him. She felt like the phone call had repaired their relationship to its previous state. She was sure they'd be at ease with one another. Now was not the time to delve into why she felt nervous.

"Hi, Sam," he said from ten feet away. He was wearing sunglasses, and his normal suit, without the vest he'd used to put on regularly up until some time ago. She briefly wondered when he'd stopped wearing the vests.

"Hey. Here," she offered him a doggy bag before explaining: "It's coffee and bagel, in case you're hungry."

"Thanks. You shouldn't have."

Sam shrugged her shoulders. "Would you rather just watch me eat? That'd be plain rude, and my mother didn't raise me that way," she joked and popped the last bite of her muffin into her mouth.

"Come on, let's get going," she said with her mouth still intentionally full.

Sam's little jape made Bailey laugh. "Not the way your mother raised you," he said under his breath.

Bailey followed in Sam's footsteps as she confidently navigated her way around the Sander Institute. He had to admit that he was very curious, if a little skeptical, about the encounter with Wykoff. Would the psychic be able to convince him of his gift? Bailey still entertained his doubts, but he tried to keep an open mind. After all, Sam believed in the man's abilities.

They arrived at Wykoff's room, the door of which was closed. Sam knocked on the door, announced them and glanced at Bailey as they awaited a response. She was somewhat nervous; a lot was riding on how the meeting went. Above all, she hoped that Bailey would be as convinced as she was of Elliot's gift. For some reason, that seemed even more important than her friend actually allowing the man help in their pursuit of Jack.

They heard a faint "Come in" and entered the room, where Wykoff was sitting at the window. He stood up with a convivial expression and took a few steps toward the door to greet them. "I'm so pleased you were able to make it."

Sam took the lead and approached the man, leaving Bailey to close the door. "We were happy to come. How are you feeling, Elliot?"

"A little better than the last time. Thank you for asking," Wykoff replied and looked at Bailey with a courteous expression.

"Elliot, this is Bailey Malone. The friend doctor Simons told you about, " Sam introduced, faltering a little bit on the word 'friend'.

Wykoff considered the agent soberly. "Yes, I remember you. From when you came to my house after Diane had disappeared." He managed to side-step the pain thinking about Diane's death usually caused, helped by his need to convince Sam's friend.

Bailey assessed the man in front of him. Wykoff was skinnier than he had been over a year ago, which was a given, seeing what the man had been through. Bailey looked into the psychic's eyes, and his heart lurched. For a moment there, he thought he could spot a familiar look in the eyes – the remnants of a past that haunts the person. A look he'd caught upon Sam's face more than once.

He pushed his insight aside to greet the man. "I'm pleased to make your acquaintance, mr Wykoff."

Elliot waved off such formalities. "Call me Elliot. I assume Sam has told you about my offer."

"Yes, she has." Bailey was contemplating the fragile man thoughtfully, wondering if the man had the strength to help them.

Elliot guessed Bailey's train of thought. "But you think I wouldn't be able to help."

"Well, I remain... unconvinced about your gift," Bailey conceded. "I also know of your health troubles. Neither Sam nor I want to cause you a relapse or worse."

"I want to help you, whatever the cost. Surely you can see that," Wykoff pleaded.

"I believe in your sincerity, Elliot," Bailey uttered truthfully.

Elliot saw no other way of persuading the agent. "Would you give me your hand?"

Sam watched Bailey wrestle with the decision. He was afraid of harming the psychic in some way. He wouldn't hurt Elliot; whatever the psychic divined about him, it wouldn't cloud over the incredible inner strength she knew Bailey possessed. He didn't trust himself as she trusted him.

"Are you sure?" Bailey observed Elliot intently. After the psychic's nod, Sam excused herself from the room, not wanting to intrude on the upcoming moment.

Bailey's head whipped to her direction. "Sam, you don't have to go."

"You can tell me later, if you want to, Bail. I'll be right outside." With that, she opened the door and closed it softly, leaving the two men alone.

Elliot had gone to sit beside the window as Sam exited the room. Bailey pulled out the other chair and sat down opposite to Elliot. Bailey regarded the man and waited for him to unclasp his hands. Elliot extended his right hand to him. Then, Bailey offered his left hand, intrigued and worried at the same time.

Elliot gripped his hand tight, closed his eyes and breathed deeply for a few moments. "You loved spending time in your grandpa's restaurant," he breathed out with a fond laugh. "Your uncles taught you, too, but you always begged for your grandpa to teach you. That's what you like to reminisce from your childhood." He paused for a while. "Not your granddaddy from your dad's side," Elliot said in a more solemn voice.

"You never told anyone." Elliot looked him in the eyes, first loosening and then gripping his right hand. "But that has informed you all these years. That's why you take on so much responsibility for Jack."

Elliot tightened his hold on Bailey's hand, his gaze fleeting from Bailey to the door and then back to Bailey.

"You don't know. Not yet," Elliot whispered, then let go of Bailey's hand and clasped his hands together under his chin.

Bailey watched the man, taken aback by the sudden end of it all. He was worried about Wykoff's state of health, but as the man seemed to be in his senses, he let go of his anxiety and briefly mused the man's insights. What didn't he know yet? He had to admit that the psychic had been right about the things from his childhood. Things he'd never told anyone.

"Are you alright?"

Elliot nodded. "Yes. Will you let me help?" Elliot couldn't stop himself from asking the question.

"I don't have an answer right now. I'm sorry," Bailey sighed heavily.

Elliot accepted his reply with a somber smile. "Please come see me again."

"I will. Take care." The psychic nodded and watched in silence as he exited the room. Sam was standing in the hallway five feet away from Elliot's door. She took a few steps in his direction and searched his face.

"Well?"

"I need to think about this," was all he shared at this particular moment.

Sam looked somewhat relieved. "Okay. I'll go and say goodbye."

While Sam was in Elliot's room, Bailey pondered what had just transpired. He was relieved that their little session didn't seem to have damaged the man. Then again, he knew that allowing Wykoff to use his empathic reading on him was a far cry from the psychic trying to mine Jack's belongings for clues that would lead to the killer's capture. Therein lay the serious danger.

Sam and Bailey left the Institute, both lost in thought. Bailey was still reflecting on Wykoff's words, and Sam wanted to honour her promise and let him come to her when he was ready.

Elliot bid an affable goodbye to Sam. For the first time in a long while, Elliot was hopeful. Once the agent realised the true nature of his feelings for Sam, he would allow him to help. The man was her Diane. He would stop at nothing to save the woman he loved.

On Thursday, Sam was resting after the third trip to the zoo in less than two weeks. Chloe was composing an email to her grandparents, her head brimming with ideas on how to spend a week on their farm. Sam rubbed her sore feet without bothering to take off her socks. A nice massage or a pedicure would do wonders to her feet. Come to think of it, she could really go for a facial and a manicure, too. What was stopping her from doing that? After all, she was on vacation. Even better, she could make a night of it with her daughter and her friends.

Angel was in the kitchen, preparing a snack for all of them. "Angel, are you free Saturday night?" Sam enquired, not bothering to get up from the sofa.

"I think so. I haven't made plans with John. Why do you ask?"

"It's our last night together before Chlo leaves to Richmond for the week. Maybe we could all stay in, watch kids' movies, do beauty treatments and silly hair styles, that sort of thing." Sam strained her neck to see Angel better, trying to gauge the response her idea received.

Angel remembered the last time they'd hosted a party, which had been a sleepover for Chloe and her friends. "Are you angling to eat all the raw cookie dough again?"

Sam huffed, not really pissed off. "Sheesh, I didn't eat all of it, did I? Anyway, you interested?"

Angel considered the idea. "Sure, let's have a girls' night. It'll be fun."

"Good. I'm sure that if I look around, I'll find at least a dozen nail polish bottles we bought for Chloe's sleepover," Sam rolled her eyes for Angel's benefit.

"I bet you're right," Angel chuckled.

Then, another idea occurred to Sam. "Would you be okay with me inviting Frances, too? I still feel bad that I didn't extend the invitation to Chloe's recital to her."

Angel wasn't too surprised that Sam would want to include the girl, but she didn't mind the addition to their party. "It'd be absolutely fine."

"It's just that I think she must miss some of the girl stuff she must have done with her mom and sister when she lived in Baltimore," Sam elaborated, then wondered herself why she was putting so much emphasis on rationalising Frances' presence at their get-together.

"Sam, it's your party. You can invite anyone you like," Angel pointed out.

"Oh, I could also invite Grace." The pathologist would probably welcome the chance to engage in some girl talk and have a little break from diaper duty.

"Go ahead. The more, the merrier, is what I always say."

"You just want more unsuspecting victims for your scary stories."

"How did you guess?" Angel flashed an incorrigible grin.

Despite the short notice, both Grace and Frances were able to make it to Sam's girls' night in. They did manis and pedis, put cucumber slices on their eyes to Chloe's great delight and went through three packs of pink bubble gum. Grace indulged her inner hairdresser and created a wild braid hairstyle for Chloe. Sam snapped photos all evening long, and Angel, having frightened both Grace and Frances with her stories, was inspired to come up with the theme for her next exhibition: scary stories. She even quickly sketched the next piece she would create: a work that was half wolf, half apple.

Grace helped Chloe get ready for bed, and all that was required of Sam was the goodnight kiss. The women would keep their voices down so as to not disturb the girl. Frances would spend the night at Sam and Angel's, whilst Grace would later take a taxi home.

Grace, having drunk half of her sparkling wine, was feeling just the right amount of tipsy for some girl talk. "So, ladies. Now that the innocent child has left the building, let's have some dish! What's going on in your love lives?"

"Well, I'll go first. It's non-existent. I'm just counting my days until college," Frances confided.

"You're young, there's no rush. Also, and if your dad asks me about this I'll deny all of this, you need to sow your wild oats! Responsibly, of course, but don't forget to have fun now and again," Grace winked at Frances.

"I'll do my best," Frances laughed.

"And how about you grown ladies? Angel?" Grace cast a hopeful look upon them.

"Ah, well, I'm back together with John," the artist announced to Grace and Frances' big surprise. The pathologst gasped and took a few moments to get over her shock. Frances said nothing, but eyed Angel with a great deal of interest. Then, she realised that Sam had shot her a brief look, and she tried to cover her blush by occupying herself with her nails. Neither Frances nor Sam had forgotten the young woman's stunt on the eve of her eighteenth birthday.

"You sly things! I had no idea," Grace said in a peeved tone. "How long have you been together?"

"Just about two months."

"She didn't tell even me until after they'd started dating again," Sam remarked. "They've kept a low profile."

"We're just having fun and seeing where that takes us," Angel defended her lies of omission.

"Sam? What's going on with you?"

Angel took a more comfortable position on the sofa, suspecting that she would enjoy Sam being under fire from someone else for a change. Frances dropped the act of finding her nails endlessly fascinating and observed her dad's friend closely.

Sam stalled her answer, taking a sip of her white wine before making a face. "Nothing much."

"So what happened to your guy from the gala?"

Sam shrugged to hide her fidgeting. "He was a nice enough guy, but... I could tell that it wouldn't go anywhere. We never went on a second date."

"Aw, that's too bad," Grace commiserated before looking at Sam with barely contained excitement. "We need to set you up with a guy! Angel, do you know anyone?" Grace and Frances were oblivious to Sam's pleading look that she directed at Angel, imploring her to keep mum on the events that had happened two weeks ago.

Angel struggled to not look like the cat who'd eaten a canary. "Well, I did have someone in mind, but Sam wouldn't hear of it. She's very impervious, you see," Angel said with a meaningful glance at Sam, who now avoided her best friend's gaze studiously for fear of blushing.

"Would I know anyone who's available?" Grace turned silent, running through her acquaintances in her mind. "I came up with two, but they'd be all wrong for you. Keith's an adrenaline junkie, and Raymond, bless his heart, doesn't really have a sense of humour," she mused out loud.

Then, Grace's eyes happened to land on Frances, who'd listened to Grace cajoling her friend in silence, curious to see Sam's reactions. Right now, Sam looked a little perturbed, and she was about to sip her wine.

Grace's eyes lit up. "I know! What about your dad?" Sam nearly choked on her beverage. Grace's back was turned to her friend, and so she missed her reaction. Angel smiled broadly and hit Sam's back a few times, before Sam scooted down and swatted her hands away. Frances observed the best friends and their nonverbal communication as she stalled in her reply.

"Surely your dad knows a few nice guys?" Grace amended her enquiry. Sam's first emotion was relief, but then she grew uneasy. The last thing she wanted was to put Bailey in a position of being her matchmaker. It would be utterly mortifying, on so many levels and for so many reasons.

Frances, who had her own ideas about whom Sam could and should be dating, tried to evade the question. "I don't know... I haven't really met any guy friends my dad might have. He's a workaholic, and what little spare time he has, he spends it with me or with Sam and Chloe."

Grace looked disappointed. "So he hasn't got any friends suitable for Sam? Maybe I ought to ask him."

"No! No, Grace." Sam hastened to mellow out the urgent edge of her words. "I mean, I'm perfectly happy with how things are now. I'm not looking for anyone. At all," she stressed, watching Grace's face closely to see whether or not her friend would let the matter lie. What she witnessed mollified her apprehensions. Grace seemed to accept her reply, albeit somewhat begrudgingly.

"You see? Too damn impervious for her own good." Angel's good-natured sigh ended the discussion, much to Sam's relief.

Early Sunday morning, the coffee was brewing and Sam was in the middle of correcting the smudged nail polish on her right big toe when the elevator whirred into action. Angel had taken Denzel off to John's just twenty minutes before, so Sam knew that someone else was visiting. It could only be Bailey, since the visitor had entered without ringing the doorbell on the street.

She had a toe separator on her right foot and the polish hadn't set yet, so she had to hop to the elevator to let him in. She had to focus, since she was hopping on her left foot. It was surprisingly strenuous to reach her destination. She would limp her way back.

She opened the inner door just as Bailey was sliding the cage door. "Hey!" she greeted him sunnily and took in his clothes, looking for clues as to his reason for such an early visit. He was wearing dark blue jeans and a black sweater. A casual visit, then.

"Morning, Sam," he wished her. He was relieved to see he hadn't woken her up: she was dressed in purple slacks, a white top and a white hoodie.

"Come on in. The girls are still sleeping," she welcomed him inside with a wave and started to limp her way to the kitchen.

His question halted her progress. "Sam, you okay?"

"Yeah, just fixing nail polish on my toes," she explained, turned to him and extended her right leg.

He looked at the sight, fighting the instinct to chuckle. "Oh. Right."

She arched her eyebrows at him, having realised his amusement. Then, she turned around and advanced towards the kitchen. "Would you care for some coffee?"

"Thanks," he responded and followed in her footsteps. She cleared the kitchen table, taking her pedicure kit to the bathroom. In the mean time, Bailey helped himself and took out two mugs for the coffee. He was pouring the hot beverage when she meandered up to him. He offered her a mug and poured another for himself. They settled to sit around the table.

"So, to what do I owe this impromptu visit?" Sam asked after she'd sipped the java and found it to be still too hot.

"Oh, I've already been up for three hours. I went on a jog, and then... What can I say, I got bored," he shrugged.

She gazed at him with a stupefied expression. "Three hours? It's barely nine o'clock, yet!"

He just gave her a "what can you do?" shrug.

Sam shook her head fondly. "One of these days, I hope you discover the joy of late mornings. I can't imagine what torture it'll be to wake up for work tomorrow morning," she joked.

"So I take it that you enjoyed your vacation?"

"Yup, I've had fun, all in all. When are you going to have your vacation?" she needled him.

"In a few months." Bailey enjoyed Sam's stunned expression.

"Wow, that soon? You sure you're up to it?" Sam teased.

Bailey rolled his eyes. "Frances was over the moon when I confirmed it to her."

"Speaking of Frances, last night we got to talking about her college studies, and I had an idea. When I was studying at Emory, they would give these lectures, seminars and workshops..."

He cut off her explanation with a mischievous smile. "Really, lectures and seminars? At a college? Tell me more," he gazed at her, feigning being utterly fascinated.

She looked bemused for a while, then cocked her head. "Have you had your fun?" His expression broke into a grin, and she had to focus on gathering her thoughts for a moment. "As I was saying, the faculties at Emory would sometimes give lectures for free, open to anyone. I mentioned them to Frances, and I'm about to call up Melinda anyway, so I could ask her to check if there are any lectures during the summer. You up for a little road trip, if that's the case?"

"Yeah, sign me up."

"Oh, Frances made a blitz attack on my kitchen last night and baked some delicious blueberry muffins. I have a few left, if you'd like one?"

"Why not?" Bailey watched in amusement as Sam waddled to the fridge to retrieve a plastic containing three muffins. He was able to keep a straight face when Sam returned and offered him the baked good. He took a bite, and found it delicious.

She inspected her big toe again, carefully touching the surface of the nail. It was dry, so she took off the separator and excused herself to restore the item into her pedicure kit. She ambled to her room, where her eyes landed on the poetry books she'd borrowed from Bailey. Might as well return them now. She would need to go and buy some poetry collections by e. e. cummings for herself.

"Here you go. Thanks for borrowing them to me," she handed him the books.

"My pleasure. What time are you taking Chloe to her grandparents?"

"The flight's at two. I'll be back at ten in the evening."

"How was Charles' party?"

Sam made a face. "It was fine. Charles was as easy-going as always, but Helen likes to grind an axe. Hopefully, it will blow over eventually."

"I'm sure they'll appreciate Chloe spending a week with them." Bailey had just finished his sentence when they heard a delighted squeal: "Uncle Bailey!" The adults turned their heads to see Chloe scurrying to Bailey.

He scooped the little girl into his lap without preamble. "Good morning, Chloe."

"Morning! Why are you here?" Chloe asked, rubbing the sleepiness out of her eyes.

"Well, I woke really early today, and I wasn't doing anything, so I decided to come and visit you silly girls."

"I'm so happy you're here. Come meet Giselle and Gaby!"

"Who?"

"They're the latest additions to Chloe's toy collection," Sam explained.

"What are we waiting for?" He stood up with Chloe in his arms, and he maneuvered the little girl so that she was laying sideways in his arms, her head and feet dangling from each side. Chloe released a thrilled giggle.

Once in the girl's room, Bailey put her on the floor, and she flew to sit on her bed. She grabbed the ballerina bear and the baby giraffe from her gaggle of toys beside her pillow and waited for him to sit down on the bed. Then, she began her story.

"This is Giselle. You gave her to me, remember? She lived in the forest with her mommy and brother, and she always loved to dance ballet. So when she heard of a dance school far away in town, her whole family gathered lots of honey, which she could use as payment for lessons. She left her home to study ballet when she was two years old, and her mommy and brother come by to watch her every performance. She lives with me, and I can go watch her dance, too."

"I see."

"And this is Gaby. Mom brought her from Chicago. She wants to be an astronomer, the first giraffe astronomer ever. When she grows up, she'll have a very long neck, and she decided to put that to good use. She thinks that she'll be able to reach the stars when she's all grown up, and I haven't had the heart to tell her the truth yet."

"Maybe you can tell her and try to help her see the bright side. She may not reach the stars, but she can see and appreciate them all the same. Then, she can tell her kind about galaxies, constellations and light years. She'll be a trail blazer."

Chloe took comfort in his words. "Okay, I'll tell her soon."

"Are Giselle or Gaby hungry by any chance? Will they join you for breakfast?"

"No, they don't eat cereal! Giselle eats honey, and Gaby eats acacia tree leaves."

Bailey struggled to hide his smile. Chloe was endearingly devoted to some facts of animal life, while others she was willing to blithely overlook. "Ah, okay."

Sam took a few steps back, withdrawing slowly from the vicinity of Chloe's bedroom. She'd crept up to hear her daughter chatting with Bailey, curious about what Chloe would tell about her toy friends. The girl's stories had been happy ones. A stark contrast to the sorrowful yarn about Pandy she'd shared with Sam year and a half ago in the task force. Sam marveled at the change, wondering if this signified a turn to a happier mindset in her daughter.

Sam turned around to see Frances three feet from her. Sam hadn't heard the younger woman's approach, but she was able to hold back her gasp of surprise.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," Frances whispered, mindful of the discussion going on in Chloe's bedroom.

"It's fine," Sam alleviated Frances' recriminations. "I'm just jumpy sometimes."

Frances contemplated her hostess, discerning that she looked moved by something. "You okay?"

Sam put her hand on Frances' left shoulder, turning her around and heading to the kitchen. "Yeah, it's nothing. Really. What would you like to eat?"

"Do you have some yoghurt and muesli?"

"We sure do. Please, sit down." Sam worked quickly to set the table for her guest and her daughter. Frances started on her breakfast, and Sam called out to Chloe, but heard nothing in reply. She called out a second time, and after exchanging curious glances with Frances, she saw no other recourse than to go fetch the girl in person.

Sam was six feet from the room when she could hear Chloe giggling in a muted way, like the girl was trying to keep herself from doing so. "Chlo?" Sam entered the doorway and realised right away what was delighting her daughter. Chloe was hiding out under the rumpled covers, hoping to go undetected, whilst Bailey was doubled over on the floor by the far side of the bed, essentially hiding out in plain sight.

Sam shook her head and bit back her own laughter. Then, she played along: "Chloe? Bailey? Where did you go? I could've have sworn I saw them heading in here. Huh," she feigned to be befuddled. Sam's wonderment produced a new bout of giggles, which she pretended to not hear.

"Too bad Denzel isn't here. He would find them in no time. Hey Frances, you haven't seen Chloe or Bailey, have you?" Sam turned in the doorway, making sure Frances could see her shaking her head and mouthing "Say no".

Luckily, Frances caught on to the ploy. "No, I haven't. Oh no, are they missing?" She stood up and walked up to Sam. She smiled when she saw the scene.

"I think so," Sam sighed, sounding worried. She winked at Frances. "I'm getting really worried. I have to lie down on Chloe's bed for a while," she announced.

She hadn't taken two steps before Chloe had thrown off her blanket, laughing: "We're right here! She didn't find us, Uncle Bailey!" Chloe fell down on the bed, rolling on it in her enjoyment.

"Oh my, there you are, Chloe! And Bailey," she shot a knowing look at the man who emerged to sit straight beside the bed. "How did I not see you there?" The adults shared a wry smile.

"Chloe, honey, there's cereal for you in the kitchen. Calm down and go eat, okay?"

"Okay!" Chloe shot off the bed like a bullet and scampered to the kitchen, following Frances.

Sam eyed Bailey cheerfully as he stood upright, straightening Chloe's blanket a little along the way. Then, he just shrugged his shoulders and smiled conspiratorially. "She put me up to it."

"Really? Somehow, I get the feeling that it was a joint endeavour," she shot back. "Come on, let's join the girls before you get up to no good again." She waited by the door for him. He closed in on her, his eyes dancing with mirth. Her heart fluttered for a thousandth of a second before it got back on track. She breathed deeply and chalked up the missed heartbeat to the strong batch of coffee she'd been drinking.

An hour later, Bailey and Frances were making their way out so Sam and Chloe could get ready for the flight and for the girl's stay in Richmond. Bailey scooped up the little girl to wish her a pleasant vacation and to make her swear to be very careful when she was around horses.

Frances said goodbye to Sam. "Thank you for having me. I had a ball," she remarked and decided to hug the hostess. When she broke stepped back from the hug, she quickly assessed the reaction her gesture had gotten, devoting more time to evaluating her dad's expression. Sam looked surprised and touched by the hug. Her dad looked proud and moved. To her disappointment, she couldn't tell more. She would have to observe her dad more in the future. Maybe even drop subtle hints.

The Malones left soon thereafter, leaving Sam and Chloe picking and packing the choice toys the girl didn't have the heart to part from for a week. After the toys had been weeded out, Sam was on her own for the rest of the packing process.

As much as she would miss her baby girl next week, Sam was also looking forward to going back to work. That was the perfect proof of a vacation well spent, she mused.

She was happy that things were back to normal between Bailey and herself. This morning had been proof of that.

The reason why she'd been nervous to see Bailey on Tuesday dawned on her, several days later, now that they were heading back to their usual rapport. She'd been on guard because she hadn't been sure how she felt about him. Because she'd been unconsciously wondering, assessing, if she wanted to kiss him again.

She found that the answer was almost certainly no. It had been a one-time thing, like they'd both suspected two weeks ago.

They could get back to normal.

Perhaps now she'd stop missing them.

Maybe, just maybe, she'd stop missing their relationship.