After: The Toast


Nick

I held a flute of champagne up. "Everyone who knows me these days knows I'm all about making sure that you say what you feel because you don't always get a second chance..." I said, "They're so rare. And because of that, I have something I've wanted to say for a very, very long time." I turned to Ashley. "Dogface," I said, "I... am so... incredibly... head-over-heels, gut-wrenchingly, painfully, over-the-moon happy for you."

Ashley's mouth broke into a wide smile and she took a hold of Chris's arm and snuggled into his shoulder, biting her lower lip. Tiny tears flecked the corners of her eyes. Chris reached over and patted her hand on his bicep. A couple people gathered around the table said aww, and I raised my glass higher. "To true love," I said, "And the happy couple."

"To true love," everyone repeated.

We all sipped from our glasses.

I sat down, shuffling my seat in until my chest was flush against the table. Ashley smiled at me, reached over and patted my hand as I put the glass down. "That was beautiful, Nick," she said. "See, you're silly for thinking you'd mess it up."

That's because she didn't know how insanely close I'd come to saying in love with you instead of happy for you.

"Yeah, good speech, Carter," Chris called. He waved his hand for a waiter to put some crab cakes on his plate and he eagerly shook shrimp cocktail sauce over them. Ashley took a couple crab cakes, too.

"You like crab cakes, don't you, Nick?" she asked absently, unfolding a napkin onto her lap.

"Yeah," I answered as the waiter dropped them onto my plate, too.

"We're having lobster tomorrow," Chris said enthusiastically.

"I know, I helped finalize the menu, remember?"

Chris grinned, "Oh yeah, I forgot, maid of honor." He shook his head, "I still can't believe you gave up best man for maid of honor, but okay dude."

"I needed someone to walk me down the aisle," Ashley said, slapping Chris playfully on the shoulder. "Be nice."

"I am being nice. It just isn't traditionally a man job." Chris said, shrugging. "You understand, right, Carter?" he grinned.

"Dude if you were a maid of honor I'd be making fun of you like nobody's business, I get it," I agreed.

Ashley rolled her eyes, "Boys." She looked around. "Where's the tarter sauce?"

"Down by AJ," Chris said, pointing down the table, where AJ was trying to get Ava to try a piece of a french fry.

"Excuse me," Ashley stood up and glided away, her purple dress crunching from tafetta as she walked.

Chris watched her go, grinning, then turned back to his plate. He shovelled a forkful of crab cake drenched in cocktail sauce into his mouth. "I just can't believe how much has changed in a year," he said, shaking his head. "Man, if you'd told me last year that I'd be sitting here on the eve of my wedding talking to a single, celibate Nick Carter and my beautiful fiance, I would've thought you were insane."

"I would've, too," I answered.

"Hey no hard feelings, right?" Chris asked.

"Hard feelings? For what?" I asked.

Chris shrugged, "I don't know. I feel like I owe you for Ashley being as wonderful as she is. I mean you put in all the work, all those years, and she ends up with me? I must be the luckiest bastard in the world."

"You must be," I agreed, finishing off my champagne.




Ashley

"You look damn good, have I said that yet?" AJ looked up from Ava. He'd said it about a thousand times.

"Thank you," I said. I reached for the tarter sauce.

"I love that dress," Rochelle said. She waved her hands at her arm, "I can never pull off a print like that though with a sleeveless dress. My tattoos clash." She grinned. Her nose piercing glinted in the light.

"You look amazing in anything," I replied. "Thanks again for helping with my make-up and stuff tomorrow."

"It's what I do," Ro grinned.

AJ glanced over at Nick and Chris, who were talking. "So... are they getting along okay?" he asked. Rochelle smacked him and gave him The Look.

"Getting along okay?" I said, confused. "Why wouldn't they be getting along okay?" I looked between AJ and Rochelle with concern.

AJ looked at Ro, like he was asking her permission to speak. She sighed. "They had a fight last night," she confessed, "At the bachelor party."

"A fight?" I asked. I looked back at them. Now they were looking opposite directions. "What sort of fight?"

"Nick almost kad a TKO," AJ said.

"If Nick hadn't been drunk he would've beat him down just fine," Rochelle intoned.

"This one's still sore because she almost lost ten bucks to Howie when Nick went down."

"Went down?!"

"AJ, I think it'stime to shut up," Rochelle said.

AJ looked at Ro, then glance up at me. "Sorry," he said, "It was the first time I really got out with the guys since Poopy McGee here started waddling." He waved at Ava. She grinned up at me, cooing.

"What were they fighting over?" I asked.

AJ answered, "Well actually they were fighting over y--" Rochelle literally stomped on his foot so hard AJ stopped mid-word and let out a howl that attracted attention up and down the table.

Rochelle, again, gave him The Look.

"Me?" I said. He'd gotten enough of the word out that when he howled, he'd kind of said it anyways. I raised my eyebrows. "Why on earth would they be fighting about me for?" I asked.

AJ looked at Rochelle nervously. Now he didn't want to talk, now that he'd gotten himself into it. Rochelle looked up at me. "Did either of us mention how good you look tonight?" she asked, smiling sweetly.

I looked back over at Nick and Chris. Chris was eating his crab cakes and cocktail sauce. Nick was ripping the label off the bottle of champagne. "Excuse me," I said to AJ and Rochelle. I walked back around the table to my seat and sat down.

"You're back," Chris said. "Baby, you gotta have some of these crab cakes, they're incredible." He waved his fork at my plate, "I kind of stole one from your plate, I hope you don't mind."

"I don't care," I answered. I looked at Nick. He looked up at me. "Did you guys have a good time last night at the bachelor party?" I asked, raising my eyebrow.

Nick licked his lips. "Yeah, it was great."

Chris mumbled his agreement, too.

I nodded and shifted in my seat. Clearly, if I wanted this story I was going to have to work for it. I cleared my throat, lifting my champagne glass, "You know what we all haven't done for a long time?" I asked, taking a sip.

"What's that?" Chris asked.

Nick was looking slightly queasy.

"Gone to the boxing ring. Remember when you guys took up boxing as a hobby?" I laughed, "And Nick broke that rubber dummy you're supposed to punch?"

"I wouldn't say he broke it," said Chris, "More like... kinda knocked it over..." he looked at Nick.

Nick raised an eyebrow. "I broke it," he said.

"You didn't break it," Chris said, chuckling. "You can't break a rubber dummy."

"When it's head comes clear off," Nick said, nibbling his crab cake, "I would call that mother fucker broken."

I stood up. "We need to talk." I said.

Chris and Nick both stood up and said, "Okay," at the same time. They looked at each other, surprised. "She was talking to me," Chris said.

"She was talking to me," Nick replied. "She was looking at me."

"I was talking to both of you," I answered darkly. And I walked away from the table.

Before: Five Months Later


Nick

I was sitting on the couch in the office of Dr. R. L. Stein, and not the author of Goosebumps. Although this guy was weird enough that he was perfectly capable of raising them. He was leaning back in a lush wine-red leather chair, his long fingers peaked in front of his nose, balancing a legal pad on his knee. He studied me. I sat there, utterly uninteresting.

"Don't you have anything that you wish to talk about?" he asked, "Anything you want to get off your chest?"

I thought for a moment. Then I shook my head. "No. Not really."

"Nick, Dr. R.L. Stein shifted in his seat, crossed one leg over the other, removed his glasses, and held them by the ear piece. "You've been through a tremendous ordeal," he said, "Surely there's something you want to talk about?"

"Nope," I shook my head.

He twitched his nose, obviously not pleased with my response. "Tell me about the plane crash, NIck," he requested.

I shrugged. I slid forward on the couch, grabbed a handful of M&Ms from the bowl on his little coffee table between us, then slid back and popped a red one into my mouth. "It was terrifying as fucking hell," I answered, my voice level. "One second we're going up the next, well, not so much."

"Yes, yes, I see." Dr. R. L. Stein evidently thought he was making progress now. "And how did that make you feel?"

I popped a green M&M in my mouth next, chewed it, thinking, then replied, "Like not getting on a plane again?"

Dr. R. L. Stein slid his glasses back onto his face and sat back again. He uncrossed the crossed leg and recrossed them the other way. He cupped his chin in his hand and watched as I chewed M&Ms. "You know, there's a theory about people and the colors they choose for consuming M&Ms," Dr. R. L. Stein said conversationally.

I slipped an orange one in. "Yeah?" I asked, though I had not even the slightest interest.

"They say..." Dr. R. L. Stein slipped the glasses back off and cleaned them with his shirt, "...that if a person choses red first, they have a untempered love interest." He blew on the glasses and wiped them again, then put them back onto his face. I had stopped munching the M&Ms and stopped to stare at him. "So who's the girl, Mr. Carter?"

I shrugged. "No one, really," I answered.

"So there is a girl, then?" Dr. R. L. Stein looked amused.

"You were just guessing that," I said. "Psychology is a quack science. Like voodoo." I wiggled my fingers at him.

"Voodoo," he said in a holier than thou way, "Is a religion." He glanced at the clock. "Not a science. And your session is complete for today."

"Thank God," I said, "I was running out of silent word games to play." I grinned. "Thanks for... well, the comfy chair and the psycho-M&Ms, I guess." I stood up and grabbed my sweatshirt off the couch, tugging it onto my arms.

"I will see you next week," Dr. R. L. Stein said.

"That you will, that you will," I answered.

In the office, the receptionist scrambled to put her call on hold and say bye to me in a blundering rush of words. I waved and headed out the door. There was a time, not too long ago, that I would've asked her to the rest room for a quickie, but I was a different person now.

As I made my way out onto the street, I took a deep breath. I couldn't believe it had been almost five months since the accident. It was mid-June. Leslie's birthday was coming up and my family was planning, yet again, to do a memorial service all together. Though I don't know what I was going to it for, I'd said my good-bye and had my peace with my ghosts.

Well, for the most part I had anyways.

I still hadn't called Ashley. Mostly because I still didn't know what to say. I'd been afraid at first, because of my face. But even after the swelling went down and the scar wasn't quite as raw as it had been when I'd first seen it, I was still terrified. I know that I should've known better, particularly considering my encounter with Leslie and the things she'd said about things she never got to say when she was alive and all that, but I didn't want to say the wrong thing either. And then I'd heard from Chris.

He'd called me to ask me for my permission to formally ask Ashley out on a date.

"A date? You and Ashley?" I'd asked.

"Yes," he'd said, "For Valentine's Day."

"Valentine's," I said, "Wow."

"Yeah." Chris had sounded happy, "She's actually giving me a chance. Isn't that crazy?" His voice had been akin to somebody about to get the million dollar pay off from the lotto.

"Yeah, it's crazy," I'd agreed.

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay with it," he said, "I know Ashley's kind of been your girl for a long time."

"We've never gone out," I said. And then I'd lied and told Chris that I didn't feel like that about Ashley, that I never had and that I didn't care if he went out with her as long as they were both happy.

Jesus, I'm a pathological liar when it comes to this, why? I'd wondered as I'd hung up the phone.

But that was months ago. I'd heard through the grapevine that the date had gone well and that Ashley and Chris had started going out regularly. AJ had even called at one point in mid-March to inform me that he'd just seen Chris moving his stuff into Ashley's apartment. Now, it was June 1st and as awkward as I knew it would be, I also knew that I absolutely had to call Ashley today when I got home because it was her birthday and I owed her at the very least a phone call after everything we'd been through.




Ashley

Chris was covering my eyes. "No peeking," he instructed me.

I laughed, "What did you do?"

"You'll see," Chris replied.

I breathed deeply. "I smell coffee," I said.

Chris laughed. "Stop playing detector. No sniffing."

I giggled.

He came to a stop and he paused. "Okay... are you ready?" he asked.

"I'm ready," I replied.

Chris uncovered my eyes, "Happy birthday, then," he said. I blinked through the light to adjust them. We were standing in the middle of my kitchen, which he'd decorated with streamers and a balloon shaped like a cat that floated, bumping off the ceiling. In the middle of the table was a sloppily frosted, homemade cake. It was obviously chocolate with strawberry frosting because there were several patches where the pink frosting had melted - must've been put on too soon - and the chocolate cake showed through.

I grinned, turned around and wrapped my arms around Chris's neck. "I love it," I said. Chris' smile was bright, and it reflected in his eyes. "I can't believe you made me a cake," I said, kissing him.

"Aw you can tell I made it," he said. "I was hoping you'd think it was store bought."

I tried not to laugh. I smiled, "I love it."

"I love you," Chris said.

I kissed his cheek, dodged away and opened my cupboards and pulled out two of my plates and put them on the table. Chris opened the drawer and pulled out my knife and held it out to me, helm first. "Why thank you, sire," I said.

"You're welcome m'lady," he replied, fake bowing.

I laughed, and brought the knife down through the cake. It struck something hard about halfway down in the middle. I tilted my head and adjusted the knife, but it struck the same thing haflway down. "What the --"

Chris was smiling, "Take the piece out, sweetie," he suggested.

I pulled it out carefully and revealed a small box in the center of the cake. "What is this?" I said, looking at him, then back at the box nervously. I reached forward an pulled it out of the cake, my fingers getting all cakey and frostingy. Chris took my hand and sucked the cake from my fingers, winking as I examined the box.

"Chris, what is this?"

"Open it, baby," he suggested.

So I did, with trembling fingers.

The diamond inside glinted in the overhead light.

I looked up and our eyes met.

Before: Coffee Date


Ashley

Chris was staring me right in the eyes, the cake he'd baked on the table, the diamond ring that had come out of the center of it in my hand. I could feel my heart throbbing inside me, trying to shove my lungs out of its way to make more space. "Ashley, in the last five months," Chris said quietly, "You've changed my life. And I hope I've changed yours, too. You've been so good to me, and for me, and I've never been this happy..." His lips parted slightly, his one slightly chipped tooth peeking out under his lips as he smiled, "I can't picture my life without you. And I hope that I won't have to."

"Yes," I gasped, and he took the ring from the box, sliding it onto my finger. It looked beautiful against the paleness of my skin, catching the ceiling light and glistening, like ice. "It's beautiful," I said, looking up at him, "You're such a good man to me." I leaned forward and kissed him. I felt safe and warm and I wrapped my arms around him. He pulled me closer, and he pressed me against the refridgerator door.

The phone trilled from the wall beside me.

Chris's hands slid up my back and I laid mine on the sides of his face.

The shrill ring of the phone echoed in the kitchen.

"We should get that," I gasped. "Then we'll take this upstairs?"

Chris nodded, backed up and let me down, and I grabbed the phone from the hook. "Hello?" I called into the receiver.

"Hey Ashley."

I almost choked. I looked at Chris. He was cutting pieces out of the cake and putting them onto the plates. "Hi Nick," I said. Chris looked up, his eyebrows stitched together a look of concern on his face. "I haven't heard from you in... well, since... you know."

"Yeah," he said.

"How are you?" I asked. Chris licked frosting off his fist and came over. He stood beside me, pressing his ear to mine so he could hear Nick, too. I tilted the phone out for him.

"I'm.. you know, okay. I'm sorry I didn't call sooner..." Nick paused, "It's been a helluva year."

"Yeah it has," I answered.

Nick drew a deep breath. "Happy birthday," he said.

"Thank you," I answered. Chris pulled away and mouthed tell him about the ring at me. He gave me a thumbs-up sign and went back to the cake, grinning to himself.

"Having a good one so far?" Nick asked.

"Yeah, it's been good."

"Look, Ashley, I'd like to talk to you. Can I get you a coffee or something? Please?"

"Coffee sounds good," I said. Chris was waving his left hand at me, pointing at his ring finger. I waved him off. "When did you wanna get together?"

"I'm free now," Nick replied.

"Now?" I looked at Chris.

He frowned, but he also shrugged, indicating it was up to me. It'd been so long since I saw Nick, and the part of me that missed him desperately took over. "Okay! Where do you want to meet?" The part of me that had cried myself to sleep for a month was screaming don't be stupid, but I ignored it.

"How about the Starbucks on Sunset?" he asked.

"Okay. About an hour," I said.

"Okay," he agreed.

I hung up the phone and turned to look at Chris. He held out a plate with cake on it at me. "You didn't tell him," he said.

"I'm going to tell him over coffee," I said. I took the plate and dropped into the seat at the table next to him. I watched as he put a spoonful of cake into his mouth and chewed. Little crumbs stuck to his lips. I reached over and wiped them off. "You know," I said, "I told him an hour, and it only takes fifteen minutes to get there..."

Chris stood up and grabbed my hands, "C'mon!" We ran upstairs, laughing.




Nick

I sat nervously at a table and checked my watch.

I was going to say the words today. I was going to apologize for January, and tell her the truth about what I felt about that night and ask if she'd heard me when I said that I loved her when I called her from the crash.

If she'd just hurry up before I chickened out, anyway.

I ran my hand through my hair. It had been an hour and a half. I checked my phone. No calls. I wondered if she was going to stand me up, like to get me back for all the crap I'd pulled. But Ashley wasn't like that. And as if to prove that point, the door jingled and I looked up and there she was.

Ashley looked even better than I remembered. She had on a pale blue sundress and her hair was in this long pony tail that hung down over her shoulder. She looked around the cafe, and I stood up. "Ashley," I called. She smiled, and headed toward me, smiling, her eyes searching over me. She got about five feet away before her eyes focused on the scar. She stopped mid-step, her jaw dropped. "Hey," I said, holding out my arms for a hug, "I missed you."

She shook herself out of the stunned expression, and took two quick strides forward to wrap her arms around me, "Hey," she said. She squeezed, patted my back, and pulled away. She looked up at me, her eyes focused just slightly to the left of my eyes, on the scar.

It was the first time she'd seen it, after all.

It was shocking, the first time you saw it.

"What? This old thing?" I waved my fingers at it.

Ashley's eyes focused on mine. "Sorry," she apologized, her cheeks turning red. "I mean, I heard rumors or whatever, but I didn't - I haven't seen -" She licked her lips. "Did you order yet?" She looked away, pulling open her purse and looking through it.

"Not yet," I answered.

Ashley pulled her wallet out, "Well, let's get some coffee." She headed for the counter and I followed. She ordered a lite vanilla latte, and I ordered a large coffee, black. I whipped my credit card at the barista before Ashley could pull money from her wallet. "You don't have to do that," she said.

"It's your birthday," I answered. The barista handed me back my card.

Ashley half smiled, "You still don't have to buy my coffee."

"I want to," I answered.

"Well.. thanks," she said.

We waited for our cups in awkward silence, then carried them back to the table. Ashley put her purse on the table with her keys, staring down at her latte. I put my coffee down. "I'm sorry," I said thickly, "For everything."

Ashley looked up.

"I'm sorry I hurt you in January. I'm sorry for --" I looked around, then whispered, "For sleeping with you and then kissing that girl, and I'm sorry I didn't say I'm sorry before."

"I forgive you," Ashley said.

"And there's something I've been trying to figure out how to say to you for the last five months," I said, "Something I've felt for a really long time but I never knew it before..."

"Yes?" Ashley lifted her cup to her mouth.

The ring on her finger caught the sunlight streaming in through the windows.

I stared at it.

"You're engaged," I said.

Ashley looked at the ring. "Shit, I was going to actually tell you," she said. "I really didn't plan to just...flash it at you like that."

"No it's cool," I answered. I felt sick. "When did that... happen?" I asked.

Ashley laughed, "Like five minutes before you called, actually." She blushed, "That's why I'm a little late. We were, um, celebrating."

"Wow," I said. I felt like my guts had been pulled out my nose. "Congratulations."

Ashley smiled, "Thank you."

Suddenly I wished we'd gone for beers instead of coffee.

"So... Chris, huh?"

Ashley's smile widened even further, "Yeah. Who would've thought, huh? After all the time that we spent before, all that time I thought he was such a jackass."

"He is a jackass," I answered, laughing.

Ashley laughed, too. "You both were jackasses together," she said. "But he's really grown up since then. He's become a really good man. I'm lucky."

"I've grown up," I said.

"I'm glad," she answered.

I sipped my coffee.

"So what were you going to say before my ring so rudely interrupted?" she asked.

I drew a deep breath, "I don't really remember," I lied.

Ashley laughed, "You're such a blonde."

"I know," I answered.

Before: Karma


Ashley

I was laying in bed later that night, rubbing lotion into my hands, and watching TV when Chris brought up my coffee date with Nick. "So... how did it go?" he asked. Chris had on boxers printed with the Lucky Charms logo, standing by the dresser, peeling his socks off. I'd been watching John Stamos try to get one of the Olson twins to take a bath.

"It was coffee," I shrugged.

Chris climbed int othe bed next to me and concentrated on taking off his watch, as I tossed my lotion into the drawer of my night stand. He looked at the TV, made a face because he hates Full House, then turned back to me. "Is his face really fucked up like they said?"

They was TMZ. Months ago, when the Backstreet Boys had announced putting the 20th Anniversary Tour and everything on hold until Nick was back on his feet, TMZ had made some comments about Nick's face and Chris had assumed he was like the Phantom of the Opera without his mask.

Which wasn't entirely far off. Just, not quite as creepy.

Or something.

"Don't be an asshole," I swatted at him.

"I'm not being an asshole," Chris laughed. Which meant he was. He took the remote off my knee and flipped the channels. I didn't really care, I had all the DVDs of the entire series on a shelf in the living room. There wasn't a single one I hadn't seen. Spoiler Alert: John Stamos gets the Olson Twin to take a bath and they all go downstairs and have dinner together. Isn't that how every Full House episode ends? "But no seriously," Chris said, interrupting my reverie as he landed on some baseball game. "Is it really bad?"

"He's Nick," I said, "He could get run down by a bus and still be beautiful."

Chris frowned.

"Stop wishing ill on your best friend," I said.

"He isn't my best friend anymore, not after what he did to you in Vegas... then disappearing for five months? Some best friend." He scoffed. He stretched. "So seriously. How bad is it?"

I shook my head. He wasn't going to let this go until he got what he wanted. "It was gross," I said, "Okay? You happy? His face is perfect on the right and looks like shit on the left. It was shocking, to say the least. It was literally breath taking. I hated it, the scar. It wasn't... he was so... different." I looked down at my hand. I felt guilty because Nick had seen me faulter when I first saw it and I wondered if he was still self conscious about it, if he'd played a tough act for me because... I don't know why, the same reason that he never cried when we were kids, even when he broke his hand or scraped his knee cap so bad the bone showed.

"Karma, baby," Chris muttered.

I swatted him again, "Asshole!"

Chris laughed. "What? It's true. He did shitty things so he had shitty things happen to him."

"I don't like to think I caused it in anyway," I said.

"You didn't, he did. He just did the shitty things to you."

"I'd rather think the universe is forgiving," I replied, shrugging. "Besides, he apologized."

Chris's eyebrow went up. "Wait, wait, wait. Hold up. You're telling me Nick Carter actually apologized for something?"

Honestly, I felt the same way. Nick wasn't one of those people who said sorry for things. He usually managed to get his way one way or another, or would just disappear until he didn't feel like he was obligated to say sorry anymore. I'd sincerely expected that to be the case when he called me, I never expected an apology. That's just how Nick is. It's stupid, it's assholic, but it's Nick. But was I gonna admit that to Chris? Oh hell no.

"Don't be like that. Nick apologizes."

"That time he set my hair on fire and I was bald for like a year and had like third degree burns? Yeah, never said sorry for that."

"You both agreed to set your hair on fire, first of all," I said, "Second of all, you set your hair on fire. Nick just filmed it."

"How would you know?" Chris asked.

"Because I was there. You were stoned off your gourd. For that matter, so was Nick."

Chris grinned. "Have I mentioned yet tonight that you are gorgeous?" he asked.

I pretended to have to think for a moment. "Hmm, nope. Not yet."

"Oh well then, Ashley, you are gorgeous."

I smirked, "You're so not out of trouble, mister." I leaned over and kissed him softly.

"I'm in trouble?" he asked, "Do I need to get punished?" his eyes sparkled.

"You'd like that too much. Instead, you must cuddle me until I fall asleep. Birthday Orders." I flipped over and snuggled into him. He curled around me, his arm wrapping around my midsection. I held onto his hand, weaving my fingers with his. He leaned over and kissed the ridge of my ear. I smiled.

"Night birthday girl," Chris whispered.

"Night," I replied.




Nick

AJ threw himself into the booth across from me. "This better be good, dude, I'm missing serious Daddy moments right now."

"I saw Ashley today," I said.

AJ contemplated a moment, then waved the waitress over. "Red Bull for me... and a beer for my buddy. And keep them coming." She nodded and walked away. "Okay," he said, "Go on. But be aware, Rochelle's going to be pissed you didn't ask her to come, too."

"Why would Rochelle care?" I asked.

"Are you kidding? You and Ashley have been like a damn soap opera for all the wives," AJ replied. "It might as well be the Young and the Restless airing an exclusive episode right now."

"Oh jeez."

"No seriously. We were thinking about having tees made. They'd sell well."

"Shut up."

"Leighanne could put them in her Wylee line. She likes putting peoples faces on shirts. We'll plaster you and Ashley right on there in like wild pop art colors..."

"Okay fine I'm going home, I don't need this," I said.

AJ turned serious. "Ok, I'll stop."

"Thank you."

"Now tell me what the hell happened?"

I took a deep breath, "I called her up, 'cos it's her birthday..."

"You remember her birthday, sure."

"I'm sorry I forgot your birthday, okay? Jesus it's been six months."

AJ pouted. "Yeah, yeah, yeah... Only known me 21 years, you'd think you could remember my damn birthday..."

"I don't remember anyone's birthday. Except Ashley's."

"Yeah, fine, whatever."

"Dude, do you wanna hear about me and Ashley or do you wanna pout over the fact that I missed your birthay?" I demanded.

The waitress brought over the Red Bull and beer and walked off again.

"Continue," AJ instructed.

"So I calld her and I invited her to coffee."

"This is the first time you've seen each other since the crash, right?" he asked, sipping his Red Bull.

I nodded and took a sip of my beer.

"Did she know about..." AJ motioned at my scar.

"Yeah," I said, "Well, kinda. She said she heard rumors."

"TMZ," AJ nodded.

"Yeah, probably," I said. "But she was freaked out."

"Did you bone her?" AJ asked eagerly.

"What? No," I said, shaking my head, "Jesus, AJ, you seriously think it was like oh hey happy birthday, oh thanks, wow thats a big ugly scar you have there, hey lets sleep together, okay?"

AJ shrugged, "Who knows. It is you, after all."

"Do you wanna hear this or not?"

"Yes, go on."

"Okay so we were talking and I apologized for January with the whole thing in Vegas, and --"

AJ's eyebrows nearly hit the ceiling. "WHAT?" He hacked on Red Bull he'd inhaled too quickly. "You -- you, Nick fucking Carter -- YOU apologized?"

"Yes."

"DUDE! Mark your mother fucking calendars world!!!" AJ stood up. "Ladies and Gentlemen of the bar... my friend actually apologized for something!" he shouted. Only a couple people looked over, annoyed by the crazy yelling guy.

"Sit the hell down, I'm not finished yet."

AJ dropped into the seat. "Is that when you boned her?"

"Will you stop? I didn't bone her."

"Okay, okay, okay. So what happened next?"

I took a deep breath, "Well, I was going to tell her how I feel about her, and --"

AJ's eyes widened, "And you're gonna bone her tonight when you have a follow-up date!"

"AJ."

"Okay, sorry. Go on."

"Well, I was about to say the words and then... I couldn't tell her."

AJ groaned. "Nick, we've been over this a hundred million times. When you finally tell her she's going to be ecstatic. She's going to be over the moon. There's no reason in the world for you NOT to tell her."

"Yes," I said, "Actually, there is one."

"What's that?" AJ asked, rolling his eyes.

"She's engaged."

Red Bull literally came out of AJ's nose as he choked.

After: You Love Me


Ashley

When I was fourteen and in the ninth grade, my foster mother was a strict Christian woman who didn't believe in school dances. She said they were Satan's tool to aid boys to seducing unsuspecting young women who didn't know better.

You can, by the way, imagine the look of horror that crossed her face when I told her that my best friend was Nick Carter of the Backstreet Boys. She'd done everything but sprout flames from her eyes.

It was the first year that Nick wasn't in my grade at school - he had officially switched to being tutored while touring with the Backstreet Boys in the Fall of that year, and was hardly ever home anymore. As a result, my eyes had been open to Tommy - a sophmore boy who played rugby and had, for God only knows what reason, asked me to go to the dance with him.

You see my dilemma, right?

So I'd spent the week between Tommy's request and the day of the dance to come up with a perfect lie to tell my foster mother and on Friday night, when I left carrying my dress in my backpack, she thought I was going to a Bible study at another girl's house, and I headed off to the dance, meeting Tommy down the block because Tommy was sixteen and driving his daddy's car.

Well it turns out my foster mother called the other girl's house to check on what time I would be coming home and found out I wasn't there. She instantly knew where I was and marched into the school in the middle of Bryan Adams crooning out Straight From the Heart, came right up to me and Tommy, and wrenched my ear almost off my head, shrieking about how she wasn't putting up with a "heathen" like me anymore.

Anyways, all that to tell you that as I dragged Nick and Chris out of the main banquent hall I was reminded of that moment when my foster mother dragged me out of the school gymnasium. Except this time I was my foster mother. I pulled them into a side room off the hallway and closed the door. "What the hell happened last night?" I demanded, crossing my arms over my chest, standing in front of the door as though to keep them from dashing out of it. "Why were you beating each other up?"

Nick looked at his sneakers.

Chris shook his head, "We weren't beating each other up," he said.

"AJ says you were."

Nick rolled his eyes, "God damn AJ and his big mouth."

"Now I want to know what you two were fighting about," I said.

Chris and Nick exchanged a look. Finally, Nick said, "He started it."

"I started it?!" Chris' voice squeaked halfway through the question. "I was provoked," he said.

"Provoked my ass!" Nick shouted, his face breaking out into an outraged expression, "You wanna see provoked, I'll provoke you, you big ---"

"Hey!" I snapped. Both their heads turned toward me. I looked at Chris. "How were you provoked?" I demanded.

Nick's cheeks turned so red his scar almost didn't stand out anymore.

Chris looked down at his sneakers.

"Okay guys seriously. WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED??" My voice was forceful. I felt like a mother sorting out a fight between two seven year olds.

Chris sighed, "He's - he's trying to sabotage the wedding."

"You're a paranoid crapweasel," Nick yelled.

"Paranoid!" Chris shouted back, and just like that I'd lost their attentions again. "How is it paranoid?!" He sounded hysterical. "I'm not blind! I can see what you're up to! You bastard!"

"What the hell reason do I have to sabotage your wedding?" Nick demanded at the top of his voice.

"You didn't give a crap about her until I told you that I loved her!" Chris yelled, pointing at me, "You didn't give a shit! You treated her like shit!"

They were standing about a foot apart now, practically spitting in eachother's faces with fury. I ran forward and squeezed between them. "Guys!" I yelled, but they yelled right over me.

"What are you, blind? You're the only dumbfuck stupid enough not to see that I have always loved her, always! EVERYONE - everyone! - could see it except for me, and apparently also you!" Nick yelled.

"You don't love her!" Chris bellowed, "And even if you do she's over you -- she's mine now, you waited too damn long to open your eyes!"

I shoved the two of them apart, my hands planted firmly on their chests, and held them at arm's length. And only just in time, too, because Nick surged forward, his nostrils flared like an angry bull. "STOP IT!" I screamed, "STOP!"

They stood at the end of my arms, each panting. I knew if I wasn't in between them they'd be whaling on each other like no tomorrow. I drew a deep breath. "Okay. Stop. Just breath. I --" I paused, the words they'd been yelling sinking into my mind. I looked up at Nick. "Wait. You - love me?"




Nick

"Wait. You - love me?"

The room seemed to freeze. Chris and I both stopped struggling to get at eachother, and Ashley stood there staring at me, her blue eyes wide with the question she'd asked. I swear time slowed down.

I couldn't believe after all this time, after everything, that this was how Ashley was gonna find out. This. Standing here between me and Chris in the backroom at the dinner party the night before I walked her down the aisle to holy matrimony with my ex-friend. All the times that I'd imagined telling her since I'd woken up in that airplane back in January and not once had ever looked like this. Of course most of the scenarios in my head had involved I Will Always Love You blaring in the background and slow motion running across fields of wildflowers like the scenes in movies and cartoons, but even taking that sort of unrealistic nature out of them, I'd never imagined it like this.

But here it was. The moment of truth. The moment that could change everything.

I looked up at Ashley, our eyes locked, and I said, "Yes."

Just one simple little word.

Ashley's hands dropped from our chests and Chris looked defeated on the other side of her, like a little boy whose face had just been unexpectedly slapped by someone he'd trusted. And I guess in a way it had been.

"Ashley," Chris said her name, almost pleadingly.

Ashley shook her head. "No... no, no talking," she said. She pointed at me, and then turned and pointed at him, "No talking." She backed away toward the door, her eyes still wide, biting her lips. One hand was up in her hair, holding onto the right side of her head, and her other hand was over her mouth.

"Ashley," I tried, taking a step toward her to comfort her.

"Back off," Chris said in a warning tone.

"Don't you start, either of you," Ashley snapped harshly enough that we both froze again. "Just..." she lowered her hands, and turned and walked out the door.

Chris looked at me, "Fuck you," he said, and he ran out the door after her.

I stood there in the room, alone, and I dropped into a chair, closing my eyes. "Oh Jesus," I muttered.

Definitely not even a little bit like I'd imagined it.

Before: Maid of Honor


Nick

After the coffee date, I didn't hear from Ashley again until August. It was a text message, and it read: Remember that time I hooked you up with the South African model because I knew French and you didn't so I translated all your dirty pick-up lines for you all night so you could 'tap dat'?

That was a good night. ya I remember y?

Remember how you said you owe me one?

ya

I'm cashing in. Can you come over?

be right there

I stood up. "I gotta go," I said.

Kevin looked up. We were in the middle of a group meeting, in which Kevin said we were supposed to decide which of the 50-some-odd songs we'd taped we were going to put on the album. His eyebrows zipped together so fast you'd think it was magnetism. "Where are you going?" he demanded.

"I just got a - um - urgent text message and I have something I need to take care of," I said.

AJ had snuck close enough to hijack my phone out of my pocket when I wasn't looking. He leaped up from the couch just as I felt the phone leave my side. "Let's see who Nick's urgent message is," he hooted.

"Give it back," I yelled, going after him.

Brian watched me launch myself over the back of the couch and he ducked as AJ bolted back around, clicking through my passcode screen and pulling up my text messages. How the hell he knew my passcode in the first place is beyond me.

"Is it a nine hundred number?" Howie chortled.

"Pulling the pork is not classified as an emergency, Nickolas," Kevin said in a stern voice.

Brian's eyes sparkled, "In some circumstances --"

AJ suddenly stopped running around the couch and I slammed into his back and almost fell down. I caught my balance at the very last moment, and reach around and snatched the phone out of his hand.

But it was too late.

"It's ASHLEY," AJ yelled.

Silence.

Then, "Ashley... as in Nick-used-to-call-her-Dogface Ashley?" Kevin asked.

"As in plane-crash-makes-Leslie-tell-him-he-loves-her Ashley?" Howie asked.

"As in Nick's-soulmate-who-is-engaged-to-Chris Ashley?" Brian asked.

I shoved the phone in my pocket, my face turning red.

"And she wants him to come over!" AJ added.

Brian's eyes widened, "No. I forbid you to do that. If you do, you're going to have sex with her and regret it afterwards."

"I agree with Brian," Kevin intoned.

"If the bitch wants a booty call, you let the bitch have a booty call," AJ argued.

"Agreed - with AJ," Howie said, high-fiving AJ.

"It's not a booty call," I said.

AJ grinned, "She's calling in a favor for getting you a booty call. It's totally a booty call."

"How the hell fast do you read?" I asked. He really hadn't had the screen up long enough before I stole the phone back from him to get all this information, had he? But he just grinned, in a stupid, all-knowing sort of way. "It's not a booty call," I said.

Kevin looked thoroughly unhumored. "Clearly we're done here..." he sighed. "We're never gonna get this album done."

"We will...just... not yet." I answered, and before he could change his mind, I ducked out of the room.

I have to admit I felt guilty. It was completely my fault that we hadn't put the album out yet. I just wasn't feeling it like I usually was. I mean, I had spent the last six months trying to keep myself out of the media because of my scar, and I wasn't entirely positive I was ready to step out into the limelight with it now, either. I wasn't sure how the fans were going to react to me anymore.

But I'd get serious about the album and my therapy with Dr. R. L. Stein and all would be fine, I told myself. Just... I'd do it tomorrow because today I had to go see what Ashley needed.




Ashley

Nick arrived so fast you'd think he' been run or something.

I invited him inside and got ice coffee out of the fridge. He sat at the table, spinning the glass in front of him as I smeared peanut butter on some crackers and put the plate of them down on the table.

He cleared his throat, "So uh, where's Chris at?" he asked.

"Working."

Nick raised an eyebrow, "What's he doing now?"

"He works with FedEx," I answered.

Nick nodded. "Nice." He looked around. "Are you still... uh..." he paused and his eyebrows went together.

I laughed, "You have no idea what I do, do you?"

Nick made a disgruntled face.

"It's okay, you never paid attention to know," I said with a shrug. I could tell by Nick's face he was waiting for me to say it, but I sipped my ice coffee instead and picked up a cracker. "So Nick," I said, "I have a... favor... to ask of you."

"Wait. What do you do?" he asked, tilting his head.

I sighed. "Think real hard. What did I go to school for?"

Nick licked his lips. "I'm guessing the answer is not so I could go to frat parties."

I shook my head.

He gnawed the inside of his cheek for a moment. "It was like... something... with like... words... or math... or something..."

"Yes, I do something with like words or math or something," I answered.

"What was it?"

"Teaching."

"Right. Yes. That." Nick smiled, but only one side of his mouth went up.

"Anyways. My favor."

"Yeah, your favor." He took a sip of his coffee.

"Okay, so... As you know, I've been dreaming about this whole wedding thing for a really long time."

"You've only been dating the guy for like five months," Nick interrupted, "And you hated him like the day before you started dating basically," he added.

"I mean in general," I answered. "And it's been almost six months since we went out the first time, thank you."

Nick shrugged. "Five, six. Same difference..." he sipped the coffee.

"Well my point is you know how important the wedding is to me, right?"

Nick nodded around his coffee.

"Well, see... I..." I took a deep breath, "I want everything to be perfect at the wedding. I want it to be like a fairy tale. And... Nick, I need your help."

He was staring at me, a slightly frightened look in his eyes. "My help with...?"

"Nick, will you be my maid of honor?"

He looked confused, "Your um.. your maid of honor?"

"Yes," I said.

He bit his lips. "Isn't that usually... I dunno... a maid? As in like... a girl?"

I was afraid he was gonna go this route for the answer. "Well, traditionally, but -- well, remember that movie with Patrick Dempsey? He was a maid of honor."

"Yeah 'cos Dr. McDreamy-Chia-Pet-Head is the person I wanna model after," he snorted.

"The point is, Nick, that it's becoming more common for women with best friends who are guys to ask them to be their maid of honor." I paused, "And Nick, you're my best friend, and I don't really have any other friends that I would want sharing something as important to me as marriage."

"What exactly does this job entail?" he asked.

"Waiting on me hand and foot for the rest of your life," I joked. Nick laughed. "Seriously, just... I dunno... going with me to pick the flowers, and helping me decide what dress I choose." I bit my lip. "Nick.. after this, we're probably not gonna get to hang out the way we used to... you know, before. And... I miss those times."

Nick was staring at the table.

"Please? It would mean the world to me," I said.

He looked up at me, "Okay."

Before: Commence Operation Win Her Back


Ashley

Chris came in the apartment, threw his jacket on the hook, and came up behind me, bending over the couch back to kiss my cheek. I was engulfed in a movie on Showtime. I kissed the air back, not tearing my eyes from the screen. "How was your day?" Chris asked.

"Uh huh."

"Anything interesting happen?"

I pointed at the TV. "Bruce Willis just found out this guy is himself in the past."

Chris laughed, "You're a dweeb." I heard him walk away and the bedroom door opened and closed a couple times. I was still absorbed in the movie. Then Chris came back out and sat down next to me. He put his arm around my shoulders and stared at the TV in silence for a few minutes. "I asked Dustin to be my best man," he said, talking about this guy he worked with who had a Spanish wife that always sent authentic beanless chili home with Chris.

"I asked Nick to be my maid of honor," I answered.

Damn this movie's good.

"You what?" Chris' voice was surprised. He looked at me, "Nick?"

"Yeah, what's wrong with that?" I paused the DVR and looked at Chris.

"He's a guy?"

"Yeah but he's my best friend. Patrick Dempsey was a maid of honor."

"And he ended up in a skirt before the movie was over."

"That was a kilt," I replied.

Chris shook his head, "I can't picture Nick doing a very good job at being a maid of honor."

"I can," I replied, shrugging.

Chris sighed. "Why would you want Nick to be your maid of honor anyways?" he asked, "After the shit he pulled in January?"

"I can't hate him forever for one stupid night that was partially my own fault, Chris," I said, "I told you I went to Vegas that day knowing full well what I was getting into. It really wasn't his fault, I pet the dragon expecting not to get burned, but, Chris, news flash, dragons breathe fire."

"He could've called you sooner. After sitting twelve hours in a waiting room, he owed you that much. Maybe you don't remember how upset you were that night, Ashley, but I do, and it breaks my heart he could be so... careless... about you." Chris frowned.

I moved so I was straddling Chris, grabbed his hands and twined my fingers through his. "Nick has always been clueless when it comes to me," I said quietly. "He didn't even know what I did for a living today when it came up." I leaned forward and kissed Chris, "You're a good man for loving me like you do, sweetie, but this is a good thing. It means that broken part of me is healing, it means I have my brother back."

"Yeah, I guess."

"It also means you can be friends with Nick again," I said, smiling. "You said you miss him."

"I said that once," Chris corrected, "I'm not like... pining for him."

I smirked. "I know, you're so manly, baby." I leaned down and kissed his stubble-covered chin.

"I'd never be a bridesmaid," Chris clarified. "It's a chick job."

"Maid of Honor," I corrected, "And I'm telling you, it's not as weird as it sounds, really. Nick's going to do a great job at it. And even if he doesn't that's okay because I really want control of everything anyways."

Chris stared up at me, "Just promise me you'll be careful, okay? I don't want you to get hurt out of all this."

I smiled, "I'll be careful."




Nick

After talking to Ashley, I stopped on my way home and picked up Made of Honor, the movie with Patrick Dempsey that Ashley had been talking about earlier. I needed to study up on what the job entailed. An hour and a half of Scotish accents and Patrick Dempsey stealing back his girl later, and I realized that I needed a plan. A fool proof plan to make sure that I managed to hang onto my balls long enough to tell Ashley exactly how I felt before it was too late.

If Patrick Dempsey could do it, then shit so could I.

And, the bonus, Patrick Dempsey only had 90 minutes. I had almost six months.

I had thought of nothing but Ashley since January. And really even before that. I'd realized during my time alone in my house, thinking about her, that I'd spent years and years going on dates with her and sleeping with other women under the guise that Ashley was my 'wingman'. I'd shared my life with her already, one more step would barely change a thing. Telling Ashley that I loved her wasn't really that much different than what I'd always ever done. It was just... making it all official, I guess. But I'd been there for her since we were kids, and she'd been there for me, and we'd been through a lot. My sister, Leslie, had shown me that much in a -- I dunno, dream? apparition? I'm not sure what it was, but it had opened my eyes to a lot of things I'd been blind to before.

And I guess the reason I'd been so complacent when Chris asked me if he could ask her out was because of that vision or whatever. Because Ashley loved me, and always had, and I didn't think Chris could detour that affection. I took her for granted because, even while I wasn't calling her or seeing her because I was afraid of her reaction to my scar, I never dreamt that she wouldn't be there waiting for me when I was ready for her. But I guess some time along the line, Ashley just got sick of waiting.

Well she wouldn't have to wait anymore.

I was going to be the best fucking maid of honor that ever walked the face of this earth. So good in fact that Ashley would fall in love with me and I wouldn't have to be a maid of honor anymore.

Maybe I wasn't gonna be the best maid of honor.

Commence operation win her back.

Before: Seducing the Bride


Nick

"I need your help."

AJ had Ava on his hip. She was crying and smelled like poop. I was standing on his front step at like nine in the morning, bearing my gift of coffee, and grinning.

"What in the holy hell do you need help with at this hour?" AJ asked, like I was there in the middle of the night or something.

"Let me in and I'll tell you."

He looked between my face and the white Starbucks cups in my hands. "That's coffee, not some weird wheat grass whatever soy shit thing right?"

"Yes."

AJ stepped back, "Enter."

I stepped inside. The house looked like all hell had broken loose. Toys were everywhere. AJ led the way through the foyer to the living room. Rochelle was passed out on the couch, and some weird baby show was flashing and singing on the TV. AJ led the way into his kitchen, where he deposited Ava into a baby swing and held out his hand for the coffee. I gave it to him. He took a long sip. "Oh hell," he groaned with satisfaction. "That's the good stuff."

I looked around. Even the kitchen was covered with crap. "Did Babies R Us explode in here?" I asked.

"You just wait," AJ said, jabbing his finger at my chest, "You just wait. She's nine months old and I still ain't figured it all out yet. You're gonna plotz when you're a father someday."

"That's sort of what I'm here to talk to you about."

AJ, who'd been about to take a sip of his coffee, paused. He stared at me over the cup, one eyebrow raised.

"Ashley asked me to be her maid of honor."

AJ lowered the cup. "I'm not sure if I'm glad you didn't say you knocked someone up or if I want to congratulate you for officially trading in your balls for a vagina."

"Patrick Dempsey," I argued.

AJ stared at me for a moment. "So not helping your case, dude."

"Long story short, I need your help. How do I become the best fucking maid of honor ever?" I asked.

AJ took another sip of his coffee. "It depends," he said slowly.

"On?"

"Are you doing this for you or for her?"

"Define?"

"Are you legitimately trying to be the best maid of honor ever or are you trying to seduce the bride?"

I grinned.

AJ sat down at the table, "Okay. Seducing the bride. Got it." He cracked his knuckles. "So you gotta start with doing whatever she needs you to do. Like perfectly."

I nodded.

"Being a bride is very stressful, it takes a lot of planning to get everything just right, and when shit hits the fan it's colossally bad. Just ask Rochelle."

"Did she freak out a lot?" I asked. I felt like I should be taking notes.

"In our wedding, I was the bride dude," AJ replied.

"Right."

"I'm telling you from first hand experience. You cannot let shit hit the fan. You gotta be like the prince on the white steed, see? You gotta show her you're there for her every step of the way. It's not like Ashley had time to get over you all the way so like half your work's already done. You just gotta reinforce that positive feeling she's got lingering in her."

I nodded.

"You need some kind of grand gesture."

"I flew to Miami to get a record for her in January. I still have it. I could give her that."

"Yeah but then you fucked her and disappeared. You need something new."

"I dunno what records she wants though."

"Not a new record, dumbass. Something bigger. Much bigger. Something... something she'll never expect."

I nodded. "Like what?"

"I dunno, you gotta figure that out yourself dude. But trust me, that's what you gotta do."




Ashley

Nick showed up at my door promptly at noon, which we'd agreed upon the day before. "I don't think I've ever seen you actually arrive somewhere on time before," I commented as I opened the door to let him in.

"What can I say, I'm ready to get this party started," he said.

I laughed, "Well c'mon then, Mr. Eager." I waved him into the living room and he threw himself onto my couch like he always had.

He looked around the room. "Not a lot's changed, huh?" he asked.

I looked around too. "Why would anything change?"

"Because Chris moved in?"

"Oh, yeah. Well, he didn't have a ton of stuff."

Nick nodded, "Fair enough." He leaned forward, "So, what's our first order of business?"

I had spent the entire morning digging through boxes to find my Wedding Scrapbook. It was something I'd worked on off and on all my life, a collection of clippings and notes and pictures of all the different things I wanted my wedding to be like, all in a little composition notebook. "This," I said, putting it onto the coffee table.

Nick picked it up. "What's this?" he asked, flipping it open. A picture of him from when we were sixteen at the Eifle tower fell out. I quickly sprung forward and picked it up off the floor. I'd drawn a heart around his head in a red magic marker. He grabbed for it, but I was too quick and fanned myself with it. I could feel my face turning red. I'd forgotten to Nick-proof the damn scrapbook.

"My scrapbook," I said, "Just... you know, silly ideas..." I reached for it, but he held onto it.

"Everything's so...white... and... fluffy," he commented. He was looking at the dresses and cakes section. I'd written down designers, cut types, notes about shapes and fits and veil length. "Princess Diana's veil," Nick said, pointing to a clipping I'd glued in. "You really have done your research."

"Yeah, well... it's what girls do." I sat down and reached for the book again. Nick dodged.

"What's this?"

He was on a page I'd made during a particularly low point in my teen years. I'd glued a picture from an airline ad where they'd shown a father walking his daughter down the aisle, his suitcases behind him at the door, reading get there in time for the headline. I'd glued a picture of my face over the girl's and drawn an X over the man's face.

"Just... when I was like seventeen, I dreamt I'd get walked down the aisle by my dad. Like my real dad." I shrugged. "It's stupid. I mean, I don't know who the guy is, I've never met him, he probably doesn't give a shit if I'm getting married or not. For all I know, he doesn't even know I'm alive."

Nick stared at the page.

"It was just one of those things you do when you're a kid I guess. Dream about Dad walking you down the aisle."

Nick looked up at me. "It's not stupid."

"It is because I don't have a father, see?" I laughed. "I'll just have to walk the aisle alone." I shrugged. "It's okay because once I get to the end, I'm gonna be married to a wonderful man and I'll be happily ever after and someday my kids will get walked down the aisle by him." I reached for the book and got it away from him, but he snapped the picture from the Eifle tower out of my hand in the process.

"What's this?" he asked.

I flushed. "A picture. An old picture."

"Your sixteenth birthday," he said.

I was surprised he remembered. "Yeah," I said.

"Remember when we ate Escargot?"

"Yeah that was sick."

Nick slid the picture in his pocket, then waved at the scrapbook. "Have you ever looked?" he asked.

"What?"

"For your father. Have you ever looked?"

I shrugged. "Not really."

"You know their names, though."

"The group home has it in my paperwork, I think," I answered.

Nick leaned back, rubbing his chin. "Well, if he's a part of the dream wedding... why don't you try?"

After: You Said Oliver


Nick

I waited until the noise of the dinner party died down and they'd all filed up to their rooms and I wouldn't have to face anyone before I left the room Ashley had dragged Chris and I into. The dinner room was dark, the seats up on the table. Someone had come and cleaned most of the mess up, all they had left was vacuuming. The vacuum cleaner stood in a corner, waiting to be used. I slipped out of the room and down the hall to the elevator bay.

Upstairs in my room, I took a shower and lay down on the bed in the dark. I didn't even turn on the TV. The only light in the whole room was the ambient light coming in through the window. I stared up at the ceiling, just replaying the scene over and over and over in my head. She'd been so freaked out when she left, the way she'd gripped her hair and everything. I couldn't help but wonder if I'd done it right if she would've reacted differently. I wished I could take back that entire fight, turn back time, and tell her before Chris had screamed it out like that.

Stupid, fucking, Chris. He'd very quickly become the bane of my existence. I know it wasn't his fault, all the guy really did was fall in love and finally get the chance to score the perfect woman. All he was guilty of was getting lucky. But I couldn't help but picture him laughing maniacally, purposely stealing Ashley away from me.

"Well, I guess you were wrong, Leslie," I said aloud into the hotel room, "You said the story wasn't over, but really it is."

I closed my eyes and wondered how I was gonna manage to walk Ashley down the aisle the next day... how I was going to be strong enough to give her away.

That's when there was a knock at my door.

My eyes popped open and I froze, waiting, half expecting house keeping. Though what house keeping would be doing there at ten o'clock at night was beyond me.

The knock came again.

I climbed out of bed and walked to the door. I looked through the peephole and saw her vibrant red hair and I quickly unlocked all the latches and everything and opened the door for her. Ashley was wearing her wedding dress, her hair was in a messy bun at the back of her head, long tendrils of it framing her face, tears all over her cheeks. She pushed by me into the room, and once she was halfway across it, back to me, facing the window, she said, "Close the door, Nick."

I closed the door. And locked it also, for good measure.

I didn't have words to speak, so I walked into the room behind her silently.

Ashley turned around, her nose was red at the end and she held balled up tissues in her hands, breathing through her mouth. She was a mess. She swallowed, "I should not be crying like this on the eve of my wedding, Nickolas," she said in a scolding voice. She gasped a deep breath, wiped her nose and eyes with one swipe.

"I'm sorry," I said quietly, "I didn't -- I didn't mean for you to find out... not like that. I meant to tell you right, and I was too scared or stupid or something and every time I tried something came up, and... I'm sorry, I didn't mean for you to find out like that."

"What were you gonna do, let me go get married and never tell me?" she asked.

"I don't know."

"Nick," she said, "Tell me right."

"What?"

"Tell me now. Tell me the right way, right now."




Ashley

I stood before him, waiting for the words to come out of his mouth. He stood there, his eyes searching mine, obviously spinning through words in his head. I had a feeling his heart was probably pounding as hard as mine was. I couldn't help but wonder what the hell I was thinking, coming over here in the night like this, crying and wanting him to tell me he loved me. I'd spent the last two hours in my room putting on the wedding dress to remind me how happy I was about the ceremony, how happy Chris made me, how much Chris loved me. And now here I was, in the most dangerous place I could possibly be: alone with Nick.

But I felt like I owed it to myself to make him say it. I owed it to myself to hear it. Because if I didn't hear him say it, then I'd always wonder what it sounded like when Nick Carter said I love you to me.

"Say it, Nick," I begged.

"I died," he said.

"What?"

"In the plane crash. I died. It wasn't for very long, but I died. I saw Leslie, I talked to her." His voice shook. This wasn't what I'd been expecting him to say. I sat down at the end of the bed. He sat next to me. "I didn't see my life flash before my eyes or nothing like that," he continued, "It was just so peaceful feeling, and freeing."

"What did she say?" I asked.

"She said our story isn't over yet." He looked at me. "Ashley, I called you just before I died on that plane."

I stared into his eyes. I'd wondered about that phone call almost every single day since I'd received it. I'd analyzed it in my mind, every syllable that he'd spoken. I licked my lips. "Nick," I said, "Who is Oliver?"

"What?"

"When you called me from the wreck... You said my name, you said hi, and then you said Oliver." Even as I said the words, my palms started to sweat. No... I thought, Don't tell me I was that stupid to not hear it...

"I didn't say Oliver," he said. "I said I love you."

We stared at each other. The seconds seem to stretch longer and longer.

I couldn't believe that he'd said it... and I'd missed it.

"I said it with all my heart," he said, "I just... I was dying. My face was melting to the window." He waved at his scar.

I felt sick. "Why didn't you tell me again? When you were okay, when you were at the hospital? Why didn't you want me to come see you?"

Nick's hand went to his scar. "I was afraid... of what you'd think."

"You were afraid of what I'd think of your scar?" I asked.

"Well at that point it was a gaping, disgusting, oozing wound and -- I saw it, after the nurse had found you and told you to come. I saw it in the mirror. I got up to brush my teeth for you and --" he lowered his hands to his lap and stared down at them.

"Nick you've called me Dogface since we were eight years old and you thought I would be freaked out by your scar?" I asked. Then something occurred to me. "Hey, you stopped calling me Dogface."

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Because it was wrong of me to call you that," he answered, "I mean, I didn't mean it like to insult you, I never meant it to insult you. It was like an army term..."

"Yeah, your uncle said it playing chicken, I know," I nodded.

"But you're beautiful," he said, "And, I dunno, it just realized that it might hurt you when I call you that."

I bit my lip. Something inside me was awakening, a feeling that I thought I'd buried months ago. I reached out and touched his hand. He looked down at the touch. "Nick," I said, "Tell me how you meant to tell me."

He looked up from our hands and he drew a deep breath and said, "Ashley, I love you. More than I've ever loved anyone or anything, I love you. I have loved you since the day I met you. I never meant to break your heart. In Las Vegas, when you said that the sex didn't mean anything, I couldn't breathe, I couldn't think. I lost my mind. Not a single day has gone by that I don't hate what I did to you. But that night with you... it was the most amazing night I've ever had... and I think about it, about you, about us...everyday." He paused, shrugged, and met my eyes again. "I just love you."

I felt torn in half. Part of me wanted to throw him backwards onto the bed and rip off all his clothes and give myself to him. But the rest of me knew that I wasn't that kind of person, and I couldn't do that to Chris.

And besides, I was marrying Chris the next day. I had already given myself away.

But you owe it to yourself, a little voice in my head told me, You owe it to the past twenty-five years.

"Nick," I said, "We have twelve hours before we have to be at the church for my wedding."

"I know, I should've told you sooner, I'm sorry."

"Take me out," I said.

"What?"

"You want a chance to win me back, well here it is," I said. "Take me out on a date."

"Now?"

"Right now. I'm your girlfriend for the next twelve hours. Then we'll never have to wonder what it would've been like. We'll never feel like we never gave us the chance."

Nick looked wildly frightened.

"Please," I said.

"Okay."

"I'm going to change. Meet me in the lobby in fifteen minutes," I said.

Nick nodded.

I stood up, "This is your chance to sweep me off my feet, Nick."

Before: Seeking Daddy Warbucks


Ashley

I had never met either of my parents, unlike half the kids at the group home where I spent a good portion of my non-fostered childhood. Most of them were orphans who had tragic stories of parent who'd done drugs or abused them until they were taken away. A couple were orphans from car wrecks or illnesses or whatever. But I was only one of two that had been simply unwanted, orphans before we were old enough to know what the term meant.

When I was little, I'd always dreamed that my parents were out there somewhere searching for me. Maybe they'd been kidnapped by pirates or the mob or something, and that's the only reason that I'd gone years without hearing from them. It was the tale that I told everyone that would listen. A lot of kids called me Little Princess because my tales were similar to that story.

It wasn't until I was older that I realized I had been telling myself a lie.

I remember the day it hit me that I really was alone in the world. Nick and I were sitting in this old drain pipe outback of the group home where we used to hang out and it was raining outside. I'd called him and asked him to meet me there and he'd pedaled his bike through the downpour to see me, bringing along Hi-C juice boxes and a bag of pretzels he'd snatched from his house before setting out. We sat there with our Electo Cooler, the rain water pooling at the mouth of our pipe, and I'd asked him, "Why don't I have parents?"

He'd said, "You can have mine if you want'em, parents stink. You should see how pissed my mom's gonna be when she figures out I took these pretzels. Totally postal, dude."

"Why doesn't anybody want me?" I asked.

Nick had shrugged, tossed his head so his shaggy bowl-cut hair flipped out of his eyes, and said, "I want you. Doesn't that count for anything?"

It wasn't the first time that I'd thought that he was perfect. It was just one of the many times he reinforced the idea.

Now, we were sitting in my kitchen, Nick at my table picking at a hot cookie sheet of tater tots I'd just pulled out of the oven, while I waited for the matron of my old group home to answer the phone. He licked salt off his fingers and blew air at the tater tot to cool it off. "What if they don't have records?" I asked.

Nick shrugged, "Then we search some other way. Isn't there like services that do this for you?"

"What if they do have the records," I said, "And I call my parents and they don't want to hear from me?" I rubbed my arm nervously.

"Then fuck'em," Nick answered. He popped the tater tot into his mouth.

"It's not that easy," I said.

Nick took a deep breath and stood up, "If they don't want you, they don't know what they're missing, okay, you're fantastic."

I smiled. Nick opened his mouth to say more when I heard the phone click and someone said, "Hello, Fellows Group Home."

"Hi," I chirped, turning away from Nick and walking John-Cusack-in-Say-Anything style around with the phone, nervously moving things around on the counters, "My name is Ashley Jackson and I used to live there at the group home and I'm looking for information about my background and I was hoping you had my records on file."

When I turned back around Nick was sulking down at the tater tots.

"Do you keep records of past... tenents?" I asked, lacking a better word.

"Yes, we just require some proof of identification and then we can provide you with documents in our file..." came the voice. "I can't provide the information to you over the phone. But you can request a copy of your documents in writing or in person. Just bring two proofs of identification."

I took the information about what sort of stuff they needed and I hung up. I turned around. Nick was rearranging the tater tots on the pan. He looked up when he realized I was staring at him. "So?" he asked.

"I have to apply in writing or in person," I replied.

Nick dusted his fingers off, sending crumbs and salt onto the table. "So... let's get the paperwork rolling." He jumped up, opened my drawer of random crap, and pulled out a notebook and a pen. It struck me how frequently Nick had been in my apartment in the past and how little it really had changed. He still knew where everything was without asking or hesitation. He flopped back down in his seat as I picked a tater tot off the pan, and shoved the paper and pen at me. "Here."

I took the pen and stared at the paper. It seemed ominous. I looked up at Nick.

"What the hell do I write?"

"Little orphan Ashley, seeking one, Daddy Warbucks..."

"Ass."

Nick grinned. "What? You got the hair."

I stuck my tongue out at him, then turned back to the paper. Nope, still ominous. I looked up at him again. "Remember when we were little... and I tried to explain to you what it was like being a foster kid?"

Nick smirked, "Yeah. I thought it was cool you got to trade in your parents every few months."

I felt my throat close up just a little bit. "Nick," I said, "What if I meet them and I wish I could trade them in like all the others? What if this image I have of my dad being like Dan on Roseann is totally offbase and he's actually... I dunno, Hannibal Lector or something?"

"He's not Hannibal Lector." Nick got back up and opened the fridge and got ketchup out and sat back down. "Besides, just think. You could look into this and find out your dad's like... Steven Tyler or something. I mean, it happened to Liv, right?"

"Steven Tyler is not my father," I said, rolling my eyes.

Nick studied me a moment. "Maybe David Spade or that guy who played that doctor on TV... the dude with the cane."

"House?"

"Yeah."

"Hugh Laurie."

"You got the nose."

I rolled my eyes.

"Seriously though, it's gonna be okay. I mean you get the information, you call them, and even if they blow you really didn't lose anything because there's nothing to lose except like a fantasy or somethin'."

"Yeah."

Nick pushed the notepad at me again, "Go ahead, write the request. I'll help you Google them when you get the information back."

And so I lowered the pen to paper and wrote out my request.




Nick

Once Ashley had accomplished writing her request down, we folded it up and I drove her to the post office to drop it off.

A part of me wanted to offer the grand gesture of flying her to Tampa Bay to drop it off, to expedite the entire process, but the idea of getting on a plane terrified the holy hell out of me. I hadn't been able to get back on one since January. Which had come in real handy considering how jet set my life typically is.

I'd attempted only once to fly, when Kevin had insisted I needed to get over my fear and all but dragged me on board a plane. I'd sat there, clutching the arm rests so hard that I'm fairly certain there were grooves in the plastic. But the moment the stewardess had asked me to buckle up I freaked out so bad that they had to have the pilot stop to let me off.

So yeah no flying to Tampa for me.

I was sitting in the car waiting for her to come back out of the post office when my phone rang. I knew by the ringtone - Gangnam Style - that it was AJ. I slid my thumb across the screen, "Sup J?"

"Wii bowling. You. Me. Ten pins and a bucket of KFC. Yes?"

"I'm kinda with Ashley right now," I said.

"Oh dawg, already? That was quick."

"What? No wait, not like that. Actually we're at the post office."

AJ was quiet for a long moment. "Nick, I thought you wanted to nail her not mail her." He laughed at his own lame ass joke. I did not. He stopped laughing rather quickly. "No seriously dude, what the hell?"

"Well she was telling me how she always dreamed her father would walk her down the aisle... So we called her old group home back in Tampa to see if they have her parents names on file..."

"You're looking for her dad?" AJ asked.

"Yeah."

"BRO!" he shouted into the phone. I pulled the thing away from my ear, he was so loud that bros in China were probably going what. "That's genius!"

"What's genius?" I heard Rochelle ask in the background.

"Nick's helping Ashley find her parents," AJ answered her.

"What?"

"Ashley's parents. Nick's finding them."

"Were they lost?" Rochelle sounded confused.

"No, babe, Ashley's like, an orphan or whatever," AJ answered.

I looked at my watch and wondered how long mailing something could possibly take. Rochelle meanwhile apparently stole the phone from AJ because the next thing I heard was, "Why did I not know this about Ashley?"

"I dunno," I answered.

AJ had picked up the other line by this point. "So you're gonna find her parents?" he asked.

"YOU ARE?" Rochelle cried out, "Oh my God."

"Well we're trying," I said.

"Genius, pure genius," AJ remarked. "The ultimate grand gesture."

"Grand gesture?" Rochelle asked.

"Yeah. Nick's trying to win her back from Chris."

"Win her back? Wait -- Nick! Oh my God!"

In retrospect, this may be when the whole bit about the Young and the Restless might've started.

That's when Ashley came out the door of the post office, also. "Okay guys look she's back out, I gotta go," I said, and I hung up before she could get to the door of the car.

Ashley opened the door and climbed in, pulling the seatbelt across her chest, "Who was that?" she gestured at the phone.

"Just AJ checking in on some plans is all," I answere semi-truthfully.

Ashley smiled. "I haven't seen him in ages."

"He's still obsessed with Ava's poop, you haven't missed much," I replied.

Ashley laughed. "I really miss the guys," she said as I started the car and slowly backed out of the parking space. "When are you guys releasing the anniversary album?" she asked, "You were so close to having it done last year."

"I dunno...we're still....we're working on it," I replied.

Ashley was quiet for a moment as I pulled into traffic and the car began the journey back to the apartment. She said quietly, "The fans aren't going to turn on you because of your scar. You know that, right?"

I gripped the wheel a little tighter.

She must've noticed, because she continued, "It's not like you're a monster now, Nick."

"You know a girl was staring at me the other day at the grocery store," I said, "And I'm used to that, I mean girls always stare at me, you know, but then I realized she was afraid of the scar. She wasn't a fan. She was just grossed out by the scar."

Ashley didn't say anything.

It felt good to talk about it with someone besides Dr. R. L. Stein, though, so I continued, "Another time, at Wal-Mart, this little kid's in this cart and he pointed it out to his mother, asked what happened to me."

"Nick, what was it you said about my worries my parents wouldn't like me? Fuck'em. They don't know what they're missing," Ashley quoted.

"And what were yours?" I asked, "It's not that easy."

Before: The Call of Duty


Nick

It would be more than three weeks before we'd hear back from Fellow's Group Home about Ashley's parents.

But it was less than one week before Ashley called me again. "Are you ready, oh Maid of Honor?" she aked.

I was standing in the kitchen at my house, shoving fruit and veggies into a juicer. I'd already finished making my breakfast smoothie, but there was something oddly satisfying about shoving stuff into the juicer and watching it get shredded to a pulp and dispensed in its liquid state. "Ready for what?" I asked. I took a sip of my smoothie.

"Ready to begin fulfilling your honorary duties?"

I lowered the glass and did a Beavis and Butthead style laugh. "Heh-heh... You said doodies," I said.

Ashley half-laughed in spite of herself, "Nickolas..."

"Yes, I'm ready to fulfill duties," I said. "What are they?"

"Duty one, come pick me up," she said.

"Then what?"

"You'll see," she answered.

I poured my smoothie into a to-go cup and put the random concoction I'd made playing around into the fridge. It was probably going to be gross considering it had everything from an avacado's innards to raspberries in it. But that was a risk I was willing to take. Later on, anyway.

I drove to Ashley's and she was waiting by the curb which Chris, who was in his purple and khaki Fed-Ex uniform. She climbed in, affixed her buckle as Chris leaned against the window, head in the car. He pecked her cheek with his mouth and I looked down to keep from watching them kiss. "You take care of my woman now, you hear," Chris said, "No plane crashes or anything, Carter," he joked.

I forced a smile that only turned up half my face, "I'll take care of Ashley."

She ain't yours yet, I thought.

Chris and I shared this weird moment where our eyes locked. I had this wretched feeling he could read my mind at that moment, and as though confirming this, Chris kissed Ashley a second time. "I love you," he said.

"You too, sweetie," Ashley answered. "Be safe on your route," she added.

Chris patted the car and backed away from the window and I pulled out of the space I'd stopped at. "Where to?" I asked.

Ashley had her wedding scarpbook open on her lap. "There's a dress shop on Spencer Ave," she said, "And according to the website they're having a sale."

Twenty minutes later, we were parked outside Matenelli's Once in a Lifetime Briadal Gowns and I was putting my credit card into the parking meter. Ashley moved foot to food, staring up at the window with awe in her eyes. "Look at them Nick, just look at them! Those mannequins look like royalty."

I glanced over my shoulder, "Especially the one with the tiara," I replied. I took my receipt for the paid parking and said, "Don't let me forget to come out and reup that in like an hour if we're still here."

"We'll still be here," she said breathlessly, and she moved forward into the dress shop.

The door jingled Here Comes the Bride as we walked in, and a petite, yet quite round, woman floated from the back of the store towards us, "Hello, hello, hello," she sang out as we approached, "Congratulations!" She took Ashley's hands into hers once she was close enough for physical contact.

"Thank you!" Ashley replied.

I was looking around, and the woman must not've seen my scar yet because she declared, "What a gorgeous couple the two of you are!"

Ashley laughed, "We aren't the couple." I turned forward and saw the woman react to the scar on the side of my face. Her eyes widened for just a split second, then turnd to focus on Ashley. "We're just friends. Well, he's my maid of honor. This is Nick, and I'm Ashley."

"Mrs. Martinelli," the woman replied, "But most just call me Flo." She studied me a moment, "Do I know you from somewhere?" she asked.

I started to answer with something like I don't know, but Ashley beat me to it, "He's Nick Carter. You know, from the Backstreet Boys."

Mrs. Martinelli's face rang surprise, then understanding. Probably remembering TMZ or something. "Ah yes, I've sold many a track of yours." She waved at a wall of wedding mix CDs. "Come with me," she said, spinning on her heels, "Let's see what we can find. What's your size, dear?"

Ashley smiled at me, then followed Mrs. Martinelli deeper into the shop, telling her the size she wore and describing her dream dress as we walked through racks and racks of dresses, Mrs. Martinelli grabbing random ones from the racks here and there until she had a nice stack of them flung over her arm. I followed like a dog.

Mrs. Martinelli seemed to know her store inside and out and soon she'd collected probably fifteen dresses and led us back to a big room with a ton of mirrors and a couple seats along one wall. She waved me to the seat and beckoned Ashley into the center of the room. "Okay, let's try this on," she jingled.

Ashley glanced around for a dressing room, realized she was in the dressing room, then looked at me, "Close your eyes. And no peeking."

"I've already seen it all," I said. Mrs. Martinelli's eyebrows went up.

"Nick," Ashley said in a warning tone.

So I covered my eyes.

But I have to admit I did peek through a narrow crack in my fingers as Ashley pulled her tee shirt off over her head and unbuttoned her jeans. She stepped out of her slacks and stood there in the center of the room in plain white cotton underwear and bra, her red hair hanging down her pale back. I noticed a mole on her hip that I'd noticed the night we'd had sex in Las Vegas. She was gorgeous. And then Mrs. Martinelli put a dress on over her head and they worked together to get the thing fastened and perfected.

"Okay," Ashley said. "Nick you can open your eyes."

I lowered my hand. The dress hugged her curves and pouffed out at the waist. It looked like a bell with big poofy sleeves. I shook my head.

The next hour seemed to me like a blur of white satin and lace and other materials I dunno the names of. I kept having to cover and uncover my eyes. I checked my watch until it was time to go out and check the parking meter, and excused myself. I stood outside on the sidewalk a little longer than it really took me to pay the meter, and even thought about having a cigarette, but the last time I'd tried, I'd choked on the smoke and it had brought on a flashback of the fire and being trapped in the airplane.

Consequently, I had almost a full pack in my glove box.

When I finally went back inside, to the tune of Here Comes the Bride, I wove my way back through the store to the dressing room. "Well we're paid for another hour," I said as I stepped in the doorway.

Ashley turned around.

It was a cream color dress, sleeveless. The bodice hugged her chest right down to her hips then gracefully fell in layers that slowly widened out from her body, right to the floor. The bodice was covered with little pearls in a flowery pattern. She looked like a fucking angel.

"Holy shit," I whispered.

Ashley's smile was wide, her teeth all showing. "Yeah?" she asked.

I nodded.

"That is... you look..." I couldn't even come up with an adjective. "Wow," I finished.

Ashley's eyes danced with excitement. She turned to Mrs. Martinelli. "This one doesn't say things like that easily. How much is it?" She struggled to find a tag.

Now Mrs. Martinelli looked like a smart woman and I swear she knew exactly what she was doing. She snapped the tag off Ashley's back and looked at it, though I have a suspicion she didn't need to, and she said, "Oh this one is a very, very good deal. It's on sale for only two thousand dollars."

I thought Ashley was going to plotz.

"Two thousand dollars?" she choked.

"Looking this beautiful... it has a price," Mrs. Martinelli said.

Ashley struggled, twisting her arms, trying to reach for the zipper, "I can't afford that... I was thinking like five hundred at the most for my price range... Two thousand, that's just crazy, I'm going to wear it like once and never put it on again..." her elbows flapped as she tried like crazy to unzip the thing.

I covered my eyes as Mrs. Martinelli unzipped her and I heard Ashley climb out of the dress. "Do you have any cheaper ones?" she asked, "Like under five hundred?"

"I do..."

"Anything similar to this?"

"Not for under five hundred dollars," Mrs. Martinelli said.

"We'll take it," I said, eyes still covered.

The room went silent and for a moment I thought that they'd maybe left to go look for under $500 gowns and I lowered my hands. Ashley was standing there staring at me in her under-thingies, her jaw dropped, and Mrs. Martinelli was holding the dress across her arms, with a grin on her face. All she was lacking was dollar signs in her eyes.

"Nick," Ashley breathed, "I can't afford that dress." She quickly grabbed her tee shirt and held it up in front of her, covering her chest. She forgot she was standing in front of mirrors that reflected her perfect butt and back and that mole at me, but I wasn't really looking at that anyway.

"I can, though," I said, "And you looked way too beautiful in it to pass on it."

"But Nick --"

I shook my head, "No buts." I turned to Mrs. Martinelli, "I assume you take credit."




Ashley

The dress was wrapped in a beige garment bag, hanging from the handles in the back of Nick's car. I kept looking back at it in the mirror over the visor, making sure it was still there, feeling so excited I was almost sick. I wanted to wear that dress every single day for the rest of my damn life.

"You did not have to do that," I breathed.

Nick shrugged, "I know. But you wanted it and..." he shrugged again. "I don't know. You deserve it."

"I can't believe you did that," I said. "It's the most beautiful dress in the entire world."

"Fitting it's going on the most beautiful girl in the entire world," Nick said. He turned red.

I stared at him. From the right side like this, he looked the same as he alway had. It was easy to forget everything that happened in January. I felt my heart skip at beat at his words - words that I'd dreamt him saying many times, and a part of me worried I was dreaming and would wake up at any moment. "Thank you," I said.

"You're welcome," Nick replied.

We rode along in silence. Nick licked his lips a couple times and opened his mouth like he was about to say something, but he didn't, and after a few moments I pointed to a street for him to turn down and he asked, "Where to next, anyways?"

"Well I'm not ordering it for months yet, but I thought we could do something you'd enjoy more than the dresses," I said.

"What's that?"

"Right here," I waved and Nick slid into a spot. I pointed across the street at the bakery. "Cake tasting."

Nick grinned. "Oh hell yeah, that I can do."

"I thought you might be able to assist me in this one," I grinned.

Nick smirked, "It is the call of duty," he said in a noble voice, "And I must answer."

The rest of the day went by in a blur to me. There was a lot of delicious cake, and a lot of laughs, but I don't really remember specifically what they were about. That's how life is with Nick, it's a blurry hazy mess of perfection. I stood there in the bakery, holding the tiny paper plates of cake samples and watching him - watching how his eyes and nose crinkled when he laughed really hard and the way he rolled his eyes up when he tasted a really amazing chocolate raspberry cake - and I remembered all the reasons I'd dreamed of him my entire life.

He really was the one that got away, I thought, popping a lemon cream cake into my mouth.

But at least I would always have the most amazing best friend in the world.

Before: Peyton Not As In Manning

Ashley

Chris and I were laying on the couch. He was watching baseball, I was just enjoying being cuddled and feeling safe. I'd been running my finger tip along the pattern of his shirt, back-to the TV, just thinking for the longest time. It had been almost a week of working on wedding plans with Nick and he had yet to complain. He'd gone through countless stationary options and color swatches with me, and he'd even sat right here on this very couch Googling hairstyles with me while we watched reruns of Welcome Back Kotter on DVD.

I moved my face so I was looking up at Chris' stubbly chin. I kissed it. "Baby," I whispered.

"Yeah?" he asked. He shifted his attention from the TV to focus on me. "What's the matter?"

"I was thinking, we need to do something nice for Nick."

Chris looked confused, "Why?"

"Because he's been such a big help with all the wedding plans and stuff." Chris made a face. "No really, he has," I said, "He's been here everyday this week helping me with making choices and researching stuff for me. I really think we owe him one."

"He owes you more than he could ever pay you back," Chris replied. Then, "I think he's spending too much time with you anyways. It's kind of creepy."

I laughed, "Creepy? Chris, he's my best friend. What do you think he's gonna do?"

Chris was silent for a long moment. Then, "I don't know. Just I don't like that he's always here when I come home. He's seen you more this week than I have and I'm the one you're marrying, remember?"

I smiled, "Are you jealous, Christopher?" I teased.

Chris grunted.

"You are. Oh my God." I sat up, and looked down at him. "You have nothing to be jealous of."

Chris studied me for a long moment, then let out a low sigh. He moved his hands, beckoning me back into our snuggle and I dropped back and rolled into him once more, pressing my cheek against his chest. "Maybe I should hook him up with someone," I said aloud.

"That idea I like," Chris said. "Hook him up with that girl you work with, the one with hips."

"Karen isn't his type," I said.

"Why? Because she's fat? You'd think his standard would be a little lower," Chris said, "Considering he's scarface and all."

"Don't be an ass," I said. That seemed to be a scolding that I had to use a lot around Chris and Nick lately. "And her weight has nothing to do with why she isn't his type. She just isn't. She wouldn't think it's cute when he's arrogant or put up with it when he gets all immature."

"At least you're aware he's arrogant," Chris said.

"And besides, Karen lost like a hundred pounds in the last year."

"I haven't seen her since that play thing you put on two Christmases ago that Nick dragged me to," he admitted.

I remembered the play he was talking about. I'd spent the better part of the month prepping my students to put on a pee-wee production of A Christmas Carol. I remembered Nick coming, he'd brought candy canes for all the kids. But for the life of me I did not remember Chris having been there. I was not about to tell him that.

"Anyways, she won't work," I said, ending the discussion.

"What about that girl who lives down the hall. The one who always forgets her key."

"I don't know her name. I call her Holly Golightly because thats what she reminds me of," I answered, shrugging.

"Well she's kinda hot," Chris shrugged, "Is she good enough for Nick?"

I mused. "Maybe. I'll have to investigate it and find out." I grinned and snuggled tighter to him, "I just feel like he contributed such a big portion to us getting together, in a way, and to our wedding plans that I owe him."

"Yeah just remember you don't owe him too much," Chris said quietly.




Nick

The next day when I went to Ashley's she eagerly let me up and met me right at the door. She pushed her way out, bringing the door mostly closed behind her. "What the --"

"I have a girl here," she whispered.

I pointed at the knob, "I missed your sock on the door, man," I joked. I raised an eyebrow, "What the hell are you talking about?"

"She's a girl and she wants to meet you," Ashley clarified. "Don't get too excited with your wingdinger Carter."

"I wasn't, I just was ki--"

"Her name is Peyton."

"As in Manning?"

"No as in Peyton. Now be cool."

I tossed my hair, "I'm always cool."

"Nick."

"Okay. Relax," I laughed.

Ashley opened the door slowly, "Oh Peyton, look who's here? I swear, you speak of the devil and he appears..." she smiled, awkwardly closing the door behind me as I walked in around her. I waved. "Peyton, this is Nick. Nick, Peyton."

"Hey," Peyton said. She was shorter than Ashley with a wooly ball of blonde hair that made me think of a poodle.

"Hey," I replied.

"Tea anyone? I'd love some. Be right back." Ashley hustled out of the room.

I looked at Peyton. She looked at me. I glanced at the kitchen door where Ashley had disappeared off to. I could hear her clinking around out there. I stepped closer to the chair where Peyton was sitting. "Sorry about this," I said.

Peyton smiled, "It's okay."

I glanced back at the kitchen where Ashley had just gone, then tossed myself to the couch on the end closest to Peyton. "Look, I'm gonna level with you. I don't know what Ashley told you about me and being single, but I'm kind of... trying to get with someone right now."

"Aw," Peyton pouted, "Too bad, you're a cutie." She shrugged, "Oh well, a penny not invested is a penny... not... lost... or something like that."

"I'm glad you understand."

"What's the girl like?"

I glanced at the kitchen again. "She's perfect," I said.

Peyton followed my gaze. "You know she's engaged, right?"

I nodded. "I'm her Maid of Honor."

Peyton smirked. "Then I guess you know. How did that happen?"

"We were best friends," I replied, "All our lives. And... I just never said it."

Peyton nodded. "The classic story," she said, "I hope it ends well for you."

"Me too."

Ashley came back into the room carrying three cups of water on a tray stacked with about fifteen boxes of tea. "I didn't know what kind you'd want." She put the tray on the coffee table, "Cream! Sugar! Be right back." She ducked away again.

"So she has no idea."

"Well," I shrugged, "I said it once, but I don't know if she heard me or not."

Peyton smiled a little, sadly reassuring smile. "You gotta just tell her, before it's too late."

"I know."

After: The Date Begins


Ashley

I got back to my hotel room and leaned against the door as it closed behind me. My hands were shaking. I'd completely intended for that trip across the hallway to Nick's room to end entirely differently than it just had. I didn't really want to admit it to myself when I'd set off, I'd told myself it was just to talk, but I'd had a very different motive in all reality. Now, here I was, safely back in my room, completely clothed, and dangerously teetering on the edge of right and wrong.

I pictured Nick in his room, changing, getting ready, planning.

I couldn't believe he'd waited so damn long for the truth to come out. If he'd only told me before, if he'd just let me see his stupid scar in the first place, if he'd just been less of a douche bag in Las Vegas... maybe if all those "ifs" were, then maybe I wouldn't be standing in a hotel room in a two-thousand-dollar wedding dress.

I struggled to reach for the zipper, some insane part of me wondering if it was even neccessary to change out of the dress. A part of me was tempted to run back across the hall and take it off there. Another part of me wanted to wear it on our date, just to remind he and I both that I was getting married the next day and that no matter what fairy tale we lived tonight it didn't matter, I didn't belong to him.

The white dress said I belonged to Chris.

Once I'd gotten the candy shell of a dress off me and laid it carefully on the bed, I stood there in the middle of the room in my under things and the silver heels that I was wearing under the dress. My hair hung down my back all wild and frizzy and I caught myself in the mirror hanging beside the TV in the room. I stared at myself, studied my shape, studied my belly button. Was this really me? Was I making a mistake, going out with Nick, qustioning Chris?

I almost picked up the phone and called it off.

But I couldn't.

My favorite movie for a long time when I was younger was My Girl. I really identified with Thomas Jay. It sounds stupid but I saw eye-to-eye with him more than I did with Vada. I mean Vada's the center of the story, and she's the girl, so really it should've been her I was obsessed with, but it was actually Thomas Jay. He spent the whole movie madly in love with Vada, adoring her from a position too close to be anything but too far away. But there was one scene where I did identify with Vada. And that was the scene when she sings a love song to the photograph of her teacher. She swings herself onto the bed, swooning and singing loudly, imagining the beauty of a world in which they were together forever.

I used to do that, too. With a photograph of Nick.

That was the only thing keeping me from cancelling this whole idea.

Because I knew better, I knew even as I pulled on my purple dress and ran a comb through my stubborn red hair, and slid the tube of lip color across my mouth... I knew even then that the next twelve hours could very well change every single aspect of my life.




Nick

I was waiting in the lobby for her. I kept checking my watch nervously, my heart pounding against my ribcage in anticipation.

A part of me prayed she'd come down those stairs, still in that dress, and we'd run to the car and drive all night to Vegas and find the first ordained Elvis Presley we could... Some part of me had hoped when I opened the door and saw her there, dressed like a giant cream puff, that she was there for just that purpose. Now, my hands sweaty, I could feel the pressure piling on.

I had one chance.

Twelve hours.

The elevator doors behind me dinged and I turned and there she was, back in her purple dress from the dinner party and Toms. Her hair in a messy pony tail. She'd wrapped a shawl around herself, which she clutched to her chest. Our eyes were locked as she walked across the lobby, and came to a stop in front of me. She stared up at me, her mouth curved in a slight, almost hesitant smile.

"I'm yours," she said.

I grabbed her hand. "Then it's okay that we hold hands. Couples hold hands."

Ashley nodded, "They do."

I led the way out of the hotel's front doors and we walked down the sloping parking lot, the air smelled sweet and salty from the vineyards and the nearby ocean. We climbed into my car and we pulled away from the hotel, away from everyone who knew who we were. I rolled the top down and the warm-winter-even-for-California air made her ponytail fly back. She reached up and slid the rubber band off, letting it billow out behind her head like a flag of freedom.

I drove the coast back to the city, the lights glowing ahead of us in the darkness, the stars overhead. Music played from the radio, and Ashley held her hand out, letting it roll in the air.

"Where are we going anyways?" she asked as I pulled into the city limits.

"Well considering you gave me such short notice and most everything is closed at this hour... my options for wooing you are limited," I said.

Ashley laughed, "I'm sorry. Who gave who short notice?"

"Point made," I conceeded.

Ashley smiled, "So what's your plan, sir?"

"I'm going to give you the best date ever," I replied, "Every element of the best dates, all rolled into one." I pulled into a public parking garage and cut the engine after finding a space. "Come with me."

Ashley climbed out of the car and followed me down the stairs to the street level and I pulled her along down the street, past all the neon glowing signs and the people that, even at a little after 11:30, were still crowding. I dragged her across the parking lot of a 7-Eleven.

Ashley laughed as we stepped through the door, which dinged loudly. A Chinese man was standing behind the bulletproof glass surrounding the counter. He eyed us suspiciously over the top of his newspaper. Ashley looked around, "What in the world could possibly be at a 7-Eleven that's a date-night must?" she laughed.

I waved at the slushy machines.

Ashley grinned, "I've never had a slushy on a date before."

"Then you've never lived."

"No?"

"The best time to have a slushy is on a date," I replied.

As Ashley filled her slushy cup, I grabbed one of those plastic air freshener flowers that gas stations always have for sale. I came up behind her and tapped her shoulder, "Let me see your hand." She held it out obediently. I wrapped the stem around her wrist carefully. She smiled down at it. "And a corsage," I added, "Also very important for a proper date."

We paid for the two slushies and the flower, and we left the 7-Eleven holding hands and sipping our syrupy-flavored ice. Ashley's fingers laced through mine as we strode along the street. I watched her as we walked, the way her mouth curved around the straw, the way her eyes sparkled under the street lights...

"You're right about the slushies, by the way," Ashley said, "This is pretty good."

"Then your mind ought to be blown by dinner," I said.

Before: The Big Envelope


Ashley

I was sitting at home going through a stack of mix CDs, trying to pick a wedding song for Chris and I, when my apartment door buzzer sounded, echoing through the room. I pushed the headphones aside and hit the call button, "Who is it?" I asked. I really wasn't expecting anybody. Chris was out playing golf with the guys, and I hadn't made any plans with Nick.

"Delivery service," came the reply.

"Delivery? I didn't order anything, "I said.

"Mail delivery."

"Be right down." I decided to air on the side of caution. I put on my shoes and shuffled down the hallway carrying my keys, bounced down the stairs, and pulled open the door to the front step. He was dressed in the same clothes Chris wore everyday to work and holding up a big envelope addressed to me. "Thank you," I said, signing for the delivery confirmation.

"You're Chris' girl," he said, nodding at me.

"Yeah," I said, surprised.

"He's got a big picture of you in his truck," said the guy, "I'm Rick. We work together. Anyways," he waved. "See ya."

He trotted away.

Chris kept a picture of me in his truck? I smiled to myself, at what something like that meant, and I ducked back into the building. I pictured Chris riding around in his big stupid Fed-Ex truck, staring at a picture of me to keep him from going postal. I felt special.

So special in fact that it wasn't until I was halfway up the stairs to my apartment that I even looked at the return address on the big envelope.

But when I did I almost choked.

It was my paperwork from the group home.

I rushed up the remainder of the stairs and shoved my key into the door, leaping into the dining room like some kind of wild gazelle. I held the big envelope up and was about to rip it open when something inside of me stalled and I dropped it onto the table, staring at it, like it was some kind of huge, formidable creature.

"Holy shit," I mumbled.

On the other side of a thin layer of tree fiber lay the secret identity of my parents. My actual parents, not some people who agreed to take me for a summer or a week or two. But actual human beings who once had sex that nine months later produced me.

Okay so that was probably not the best way to think about it, I thought, kind of grossed out.

But none the less, there it was, right in front of me.

This had been so easy that for a while, when I was waiting for the information packet to be sent to me, I'd wondered why I hadn't done it sooner. Now that it was laying there in front of me, I knew. Because I was scared shitless out of my mind to know the truth about who had abandoned me.

I reached in my pocket and dialed the first number that came to mind.

Not my fiance.

Nick.

"Hello?" he said. There was a funny rushing sound behind his voice, and he was kind of yelling the greeting.

"Nick? It's Ashley."

"Oh... hey..." he said. He hesitated, then I heard him cover the mouthpiece, "Hey I gotta take this. I'll catch up." There was a pause, then he said, "Hey, what's up?"

"If you're busy, it can wait," I said. Then, "No, that's a lie, it can't wait. Can you come over like right now?"

Nick was quiet for a second, "Are you okay?" he asked. He was gauging whether he needed to say yes or not. I could tell.

"I got the stuff from my group home," I said, "And I can't open it."

"Open it!" he urged, excitement climbing into his voice.

"I can't!" I said, panic climbing into mine.

"Okay," he said. "Give me like twenty minutes. Maybe thirty. I'll be right there."

I hung up feeling better because Nick would be there soon and Nick would open the envelope and Nick would tell me if the line where my parents names were had serial killers or prostitutes or canibals or the unibomber listed.

Nick would make it okay.




Nick

I rubbed my shin with my driver. How the hell was I going to do this?

I glanced at the figures way off across the field, Chris and two of his buddies. I didn't want to tell Chris where I was headed, didn't want him or his buddies to be all freaked out because Ashley had called me instead of him. Of course, she had no way of knowing that we were together.

After all, Chris had bumped into me on the golf course at random.

I walked back over to them and Chris looked up as I approached, "Booty call?" he asked, grinning.

"Sort of," I replied. I paused, "Look, guys, I forfeit, a'ight? I gotta go."

One of the bigger guys Chris hangs out with looked disappointed, "But then it's an unofficial game," he complained.

"Bros before hos, man," whined a smaller dude.

Chris laughed, "Nahh, it's okay. Let's not pick on Nick," he grinned at me, "It's been awhile since he got any." He paused, "Is it that Peyton chick?"

I had a feeling he wouldn't leave me alone unless it was. "Yeah," I lied.

"Go knock her socks off," Chris said. "And her bra and her thong and whatever else she may or may not be wearing." He winked and fist-bumped the big guy.

"I owe y'all a rematch," I said. I shoved my driver into my golf bag and chucked the thing over my shoulder, and started back towards the club. The moment I got out of sight, I ran like a bat out of hell. By the time I got back to my car, I'd sworn to God to get back into working out, and my lungs burned like hell. I shoved my clubs int othe back seat and drove pell-mell to Ashley's house.

Ashley buzzed me in and answered the door at the top of her steps (which refreshed the burning in my lungs). The big envelope sat on her dining room table all by itself, unopened. She stood about three feet away from it when we turned toward it. "You gotta open it," she pleaded, "It's killing me."

I stepped up to the table and picked it up. Inside, papers slid as I uprighted it. I stared at the address label. "You should," I said.

"I can't," Ashley answered. "Every time I even touch the stupid thing I feel like I'm gonna puke. You gotta do it. Please."

"Okay," I said.

I turned the envelope over, my fingers grabbed hold of the pull tab that would release access to the envelope's contents, and I ripped it off. The flap opened and Ashley gasped. She had her hands up over her mouth and nose and her eyes were so wide they looked like they were about to bug out of her head.

"Oh God, oh God, oh God," she whispered.

I could tell her heart was pounding.

Mine was, too.

I tilted the envelope upright and pulled out a blue binder. The kind with those little teeth that hold papers inside it. I put the envelope down on the table and Ashley quickly snatched it up, holding it to her chest like a security blanket. I opened the folder.

The front page was in a sheet protector. It was a green, state-stamped piece of paper.

A birth certificate.

And on it, just next to the declaration of "JACKSON, FEMALE" as Ashley's official birthname, was the name, birthdates, and signatures of both of her biological parents.

Before: Because I Lo


Ashley

Nick was just staring down at the folder. His eyes were unreadable. I felt like I was going to explode, my insides were wound so tight it felt like I was in a few knots or something. I licked my lips nervously, staring up at him. "Nick," I practically whined his name.

He looked up at me. "The names are here," he said.

I wanted to strangle the information out of him. "Tell me," I begged, my voice breathy and deep in my throat, "Say their names."

Nick looked back down at the folder, then back up at me. Our eyes met, and I watched the movement of his lips like it was in slow motion. "Henry and Monica Jackson."

"Henry and Monica," I said, trying the names on for size. "Henry and Monica. My dad, Henry, and my mom, Monica." I felt sick. My hands were shaking. I felt tears in my eyes. I couldn't believe this moment was happening, that I knew, that they were real people, that they existed somewhere out there in the world -- My happiness paused. "Henry and Monica," I said quietly, "The people who didn't want me."

My heart sank clear to the floor.

Nick tossed the folder onto the table, pulled out the chair and put me into it gently, kneeling down in front of me. He put his hands on each of my knees and stared up into my face as I started to cry. I felt foolish, because really it was stupid. It wasn't new news to me that my parents had gotten rid of me, but this was the first time they had identities. Names.

"Hey," Nick said. He rubbed my knee, "Hey..." Tears were hot on my face. He reached up and swiped away one of the tears with his thumb, "Ashley," he said quietly. "Hey.."

"I can't," I cried, "I can't help it."

"Whatsa matter, tell me."

"They don't love me," I cried.

"Their loss," Nick answered.

"No it isn't though, they got to go on and do whatever they do and I had to be bounced around all lost and pathetic and alone for so many years and, do they even care? Do they even know if I'm alive still?" I couldn't stop my mind from rolling through questions. Now that I was going, I couldn't find the stop button.

"They miss out getting to know the best person in the world, Ashley," Nick said, "Their loss is never getting to know you." He shook his head, "And shit, girl, thats a really horrible existence to have to live through, not knowing you."

"How would you know, you know me," I hiccuped.

Nick shrugged, "Because I can't imagine it. Remember that time we went to my mom's for Christmas and I told you that you weren't allowed to make a list of stuff I had to do if you died because you weren't allowed to die? I meant what I said -- I can't picture the world without you, Ashley. Better yet, I don't want to picture it without you."

"Really?" I asked.

Nick nodded.

"Why not?"

"Because," Nick said, "I lo-------"




Nick

"Because, I lo--"

Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzt. Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzt.

Ashley looked away, "Phone... phone.. where is it? Hold that thought, Nick." She jumped up and started looking for her phone.

"---ve you," I finished with a sigh.

Ashley didn't hear me, though. She'd found her phone on the table next to her keys and had answered it with a boisterous, "Heyyyy sweetie!" She was pacing as she held the phone close to her ear. "I have something insane to show you when you get home..." she said.

I stood up and walked over to the table and stared down at the folder. I picked it up and started flipping through it, half listening as she talked to Chris.

Chris.

I looked up and waved my hands, mouthing don't tell him I'm here at her, but she didn't get it because the next thing she said was, "Yeah, sure that sounds good. Bring two. Nick's here." She covered the mouth piece, "Are you hungry?" she asked. "Chris is getting pizza."

Well. At least Peyton lived in the same building, I thought. I'd make up some bullshit thing about her changing her mind or ...something. I didn't know what.

"Nick? Pizza?"

I nodded.

"Yeah, he's hungry," she said into the phone. She paused, then, to me, "Toppings?"

"Whatever," I shrugged.

After transcribing and talking about toppings for a few minutes, Ashley hung up the phone a few minutes later, my mind was still reeling over ideas for Chris, and she asked, "What were you about to say before that rang?"

I waved my hand, "No big deal," I answered. "Nothing really."

"You sure?" Ashley looked concerned.

"Yeah, it's not important," I replied.

Ashley made a face, but she let it go. She pointed at the folder. "Does it say anything else about them?" she asked. She inched closer to me, looking over my shoulder.

I flipped the pages.

Everything was in here, in some sort of crazy reverse order. The paperwork releasing her from the home's care. Grades from school. Paperwork for caregivers, paperwork for health records, a scan of her passport, immunization records, more grades from school. Several drawings and coloring pages from young school. More health records. More immunizations. Paperwork placing her into the home's care. And at the very bottom, a police report.

My eyes scanned the words, and got less than halfway through before I slammed the folder shut. But it was too late. Ashley had already seen it.

Before: Go Away


Ashley

On July the 16th at approximately 3:30 AM, police responded to a domestic abuse call at 24 W. Opal Drive. Upon arriving at the scene, responding officer Jim Carroll discovered evidence of violence. Further investigation led to the discovery of the body of Monica Jackson. Suspect Henry Jackson was arrested at the scene and transported to Tampa City Police Department for questioning. An hour after FLPD responded to the call, an investigating officer discovered an infant in the upstairs bedroom...

It didn't matter how fast Nick slammed that folder shut, I'd already seen the keywords that I needed to see to know too much.

I ran from the room. Nick came after me, but I managed to slam and lock the bathroom door before he got in. He banged on the door, "Ashley!" he called, his voice panicked. I tried not to listen to him as I flung myself over the porcelin bowl and threw up until there was nothing left in me to throw up and my stomach was just clenching for no reason. I felt dizzy and empty and hurt.

"Ashley!" Nick begged, "Please, open the door."

"Go away," I cried.

"Ashley, c'mon, this doesn't mean shit."

I choked on my own heaves.

"Ashley, you okay?" Nick's voice was lower, more careful.

"I said go away," I croaked.

I heard him sit down, leaning against the door in the hallway. I could see his ass blocking the light the filtered under the door.

"That's the opposite of going away," I wailed.

"Since when do I ever listen to a damn thing you tell me?" he asked.

I swiped my hand over my mouth and laid down on the tile. "Fine, sit there, then, I don't care." I curled my knees to my chest and laid there, staring at the dust that was collecting in the corner under my sink. The tile floor was cool under my cheek. The room smelled like sick.

He'd killed her. I didn't have a mother because my father had killed her. I rocked myself.

I heard Nick get up in the hallway, heard his feet go down the hallway.

I closed my eyes and I didn't wake up until I heard the door of the apartment slam.




Nick

I called Jason.

Jason was a lawyer in Nashville who sometimes doubled as my manager on solo projects. He wasn't great at being a manager, but he was great at being a lawyer. So I picked up the folder on Ashley's table and called him.

She might not want it right now, but eventually she would want answers, and Jason had access to records and files that Ashley and I would have a lot more trouble getting to than he would.

"Jason Turner here," he anwered his cellphone with a hurried sort of tone to his voice.

"Heyyyy Jase, it's Nick," I said. I was leaning over the table, staring down at the open police report.

He sounded shocked, "Nick? Wow, it's been awhile. I heard about your uh --" he stopped.

"Plane crash? Scar? All of the above?" I laughed because, well, what else do you do?

"Yeah," he said. "How's it going?" I could hear it in his voice. The guilt tone. Anyone who hadn't really talked to me a lot since before the crash sounded like that. Guilty for having not talked to me since they heard about it. Brian had sounded like that for a long time because it'd taken him almost a month to call me. He'd been going through some stuff before the crash and we'd been in a lot of fights and he'd been really judgemental of me and we'd ended up not really speaking. Then after the crash, he'd taken forever to know how to say sorry and it'd resulted in a couple weeks of radio silence, followed by a couple weeks of awkward guilty tones.

"It's okay," I answered.

"Good, good..." Jason now sounded uncomfortable. Like he was a teenage boy trying to think of something besides baseball and the weather to talk about on his first date.

"Look," I said, "I confess I'm not just calling to shoot the shit with you. I actually have something important I was hoping you could help me out with?"

Relief was literally audible in his response, "Yeah? What's that? I'll do what I can."

"You remember Ashley."

"Who?" he sounded confused.

"Dogface?" I tried.

"Ohhh right, yeah, that girl you hang around with. I didn't know her actual name," he laughed. I felt bad. Too many people in my circle didn't know she had an actual name. "What about her?" he asked.

"Well I have a police report from 1980 here that I need some more information about the outcome of the situation for her," I replied, "And I was hoping you might have access to getting that faster than either of us?"

"Sure, you wanna fax it over and I'll check it out?"

I looked around. Ashley didn't own a fax machine. "I'll fax it later tonight," I replied.

At that moment, the door slammed open and Chris was standing there, balancing two pizzas on his hand. His face was kind of twisted or something and he stepped into the room, studying me, as he put the pizzas on the table.

"Anytime, Nick. You still got my fax number?" Jason was asking on the phone.

"Yeah, it's stored in my contacts," I replied. Chris and I were eyeballing each other. He slammed the apartment door and it echoed through the rooms of the apartment. He was frowning. "I'll send it by later tonight," I added, "Thanks Jase. See ya." I hung up.

Chris was standing a couple feet away, the corner of the table separated us.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" he asked.

"Peyton --"

"...was downstairs in the hallway and didn't have a fucking clue what I was talking about when I asked her how her date with you went," Chris finished my sentence.

I stood there awkwardly, caught in my own stupid ass web.

Chris' voice was low, "So what the hell are you doing here?" he asked. He looked around the room, "Where's Ashley?"

"Bathroom," I replied.

Chris stepped around the table and for the splittest of moments, I thought he was about to slug me. Instead, he paused, "Go away," he commanded under his breath. Then he continued around me, to the hallway and I heard him knock on the door and call her name. "Ashley?"

I looked down at the folder on the table.

I gnawed my lower lip, then picked it up and slid out the apartment door.

After: Prove It


Ashley

"Mind. Blown." I said.

We were sitting in a corner booth at IHOP. Aside from us, the restaurant was almost empty, aside from a guy on the end of the bar eating eggs, and the waitresses, who wandered around with sweepers and cloths to wipe the tables. There was a TV somewhere was playing an old hockey game between the Boston Bruins and the Los Angeles Kings, we couldn't see it but we could hear the commentary.

"There's nothing like IHOP in the middle of the night," Nick said, "It's like a delicacy."

I laughed and looked down at the menu.

He was still staring at me, I could feel it. I wanted him to look away. His eyes were so intense, and so... It was like gravity, pulling my heart. I looked up at him.

"Do you remember last time we were here?" he asked.

I nodded. Too well. "After seeing my father," I replied.

Nick nodded. "Do you remember the talk we had?"

I nodded.

"I was trying so damn hard to tell you. But every time I tried it came out wrong and it just..." he laughed, smiling at the memory. His eyes glowed, those crinkles at the corner stretching further than I remembered them stretching. He was getting older, maturing around the edges. For a split second, I could picture him old, and in my mind we were sitting there in IHOP fifty years later and he was remembering this very night. For a moment, I saw my future. Except it wasn't my future. My future was Chris sitting across the booth.

Chris hates IHOP.

"Damn it Ashley," Nick laughed, "You know, I'm a fucking pop star and I stand on stages in front of sold out stadiums full of people and I talk about crazy personal stuff in interviews that are broadcast all over the world and I can't look you in the eyes and say three words without feeling like my entire insides are all froze up." He shook his head.

"Maybe you don't really mean them," I teased.

Nick shook his head, "I just mean them so much it's hard to make the words sound sincere enough when I say them."

He had such a way of saying things.

A waitress appeared at our booth and Nick turrned to her, breaking the gaze that we'd had going on. My heart was banging off my rib cage. It was crazy, it was insane. It was too perfect. This was everything I'd dreamed of since I was a kid. I felt hot and cold at the same time. I wanted to let myself have this so badly it hurt. But a nagging little voice inside me whispered he only wants you because he can't have you, and I thought of all those times girls said no to him at the bars all those years he'd been a player and I remembered how he'd doubled his efforts to get that girl to want him, even if when he'd initialized contact with them, he'd been reluctant because they weren't what he was really after.

I was now that girl. I was a game to him. I was a challenge.

"We'll have an order of the pancake puppies for the table... and... um... I'm gonna go with the avacado breakfast burrito," Nick ordered, "And coffee. Lots of coffee. Oh and juice, too. And also some bacon."

The waitress was scribbling furiously to keep up with his order.

"What do you want, Ashley?" he asked.

"Um... oatmeal," I said, reading off the menu because I'd lost all thought of what I'd been going to order, my mind was so wrapped up in Nick and these twelve hours and what they meant. "And egg whites. Scrambled. And um. Cranberry juice."

The waitress nodded and took the menus and walked away.

Nick raised an eyebrow, "Oatmeal?"

I shrugged.

He laughed.

"Nick," I said, my mouth moving before I could stop it, "Exactly what do you expect to happen because of this date?" He licked his lips, like he was preparing to say something. But I spoke again before he could, "Do you expect me to break up with Chris and run off with you?" He looked like he didn't know how to answer that. "Do you expect us to end up together? To sleep with me?"

"You think this is about sleeping with you?" he asked.

"I don't know what it 's about," I said.

"It's about me being in love with you," he replied. "And I thought about you giving me a chance to persuade you to... to love me back."

"I loved you back for years," I answered, "And you've never loved me until the moment that you think I stopped."

"No," Nick shook his head, "No, I always loved you, I just didn't understand that."

I was afraid to trust that he was telling the truth. Even now, a year later, I could see the look on his face when I'd found him in the corner by that damn flying pig statue on his birthday. "Nick, you've never loved anyone in your entire life."

"I've loved you for my entire life," he argued, "And I want to love you for the rest of it, too."

"You don't even believe in marriage," I argued back, "You don't even want to get married."

Nick's eyes were so damn blue, and so serious when he stared at me. "When it comes to you, I do."

I felt my insides quiver like they were made of jelly.

"Prove it," I said.




Nick

I swallowed.

Prove it? How was I supposed to prove it?

I thought of the ordained Elvis I'd been dreaming about in the lobby of the hotel.

"Vegas," I whispered.

"What?" Ashley had heard me just fine, but she looked afraid. Her eyes were wide.

"Let's go to Vegas," I said.

Ashley laughed, "We can't go to Vegas."

"Why not? We'll find an Elvis to marry us. I'll prove to you that I'm not afraid to get married to you. Right now. Tonight." I could feel my adrenaline starting to burst through my veins.

I may as well have shot her with a taser the way she looked. Disbelief etched her face.

But I think the important thing to note is that she didn't say no.

"We'll get in the car, and we'll drive all night," I said, repeating my fantasy from the hotel lobby. Ashley was staring at me, her mouth slightly ajar. "We'll run down the street and find the first chapel with an ordained Elvis and we'll do it. By morning, you'll be Ashley Carter."

We sat there, silence so thick it could be felt hung over us.

Ashley didn't move. I didn't dare to, either, afraid that she'd answer too quickly and say no.

I willed her with every ounce of me to say yes.

Please. Please. Please.

I love you, I begged her silently. I can't live without you. I only lived this long because of you.

And then the waitress was back with our plate of pancake puppies and a big smile on her face and she put the basket down on the table with a click that roused Ashley out of her meditative state.

"Would you all like powdered sugar on the pups?" the waitress asked, holding up the little silver can of powdered sugar.

"Yes," Ashley said.

But she wasn't looking at the waitress.

She was looking at me.

Before: Come With Me


Ashley

I don't know why I didn't tell Chris about my parents, but I didn't.

It took him an hour to talk me into coming out of the bathroom. He hadn't given up trying, though (unlike Nick), and I eventually unlocked the bathroom door and let him come in and try to comfort me. Which he had a deal of doing considering I refused to talk about what was wrong with me. Chris' brow contracted with concern. "Nick didn't...hurt you... somehow, did he?"

"No of course not, don't be stupid," I replied.

"I'm just checking," Chris answered. He paused. "What was he doing here anyways?"

I didn't want to explain about my parents or anything at all, so I said, "I called him."

Something shifted in Chris' expression. "Oh," he said. "You called him."

"Yeah..." I raised an eyebrow, "So what?"

"I was just curious, that's all," Chris answered.

"Did he leave?" I asked.

"Yes."

"Did he eat before he left? He was hungry."

Chris shook his head, "Nope. He just had to go that's all." He shrugged.

I sighed. I'd probably scared him off by holloring at him to go away. Or by crying. Nick had never done well with women when they cried. He was awkward as sin when they cried.

Chris and I reheated the pizza and sat down in front of the TV, watching Planet Earth on DVD. It was one of our shared geek-outs. In all honesty, though, I liked it a lot better when I watched it with Nick because he muted the BBC guy's voice and did his own commentary. You haven't lived 'til you've sat with Nick while he makes voices for mating birds in the rain forrest.

It was several hours later, after Chris had fallen asleep, that Nick texted me.

I know where he is.

I stared at the text. I looked over at Chris, and I snuck off the couch and walked barefoot to the sliding glass door, stepping out onto our balcony. I leaned against the rail and dialed Nick's number.

When he picked up, I didn't bother with a greeting, I just said, "What?"

"I talked to Jason," Nick explained, "Earlier, when you were in the bathroom, and he had me fax over the police report about your parents, and he did some quick research for me and.. well, we found the prison he's at."

I stared down at the street as a car with dying muffler coasted by. "And?"

Nick was quiet. "I thought you might want to go see him."

I rubbed my arm. A part of me wanted to say no, that I didn't ever want to see the bastard. But another part of me was deeply curious. Would seeing him tell me where I'd got my nose? My eyes? My flaming red hair? I looked down at my shoes.

"Ashley?"

"Yeah."

"You don't have to. I just thought you might like the option."

"I know."

"I'm sorry if I made it worse," he said.

"No... thank you for looking for me..." I looked back in the apartment. Chris was stretching on the couch. "Let me think about it, okay?"

"Okay."

I started to hang up, then I caught myself. "Nick?" I asked.

He took a second - obviously he'd been about to hang up, too. "Yeah?"

"You'll come with me, right?"

He was quiet a long moment. "Yeah. I will."

"Okay."

That time we hung up for real and I went back inside and crawled back onto the couch with Chris, who was just starting to wake up. "Where'd you go?" he asked through a huge yawn.

"Bathroom," I lied.

He smiled sleepily and tucked his arms around me as I rejoined him. He kissed the side of my face and snuggled his nose against my head. "You'd think you'd have spent enough time in there earlier," he joked.

"You'd think," I answered.

Chris's breathing started to steady. He was falling back asleep. I stared up at the ceiling, absently rubbing Chris's arm.

Did I want to meet my father?

I wondered what he would be like and I pictured a huge guy, like Brutus from Popeye, pulling against grimey chains in the depths of a dungeon, growling and spitting like a tormented monster.

I took a deep breath.

I wished Nick was there so we could talk about it. At that moment, I probably even would've told Chris if he was still awake. Part of me was tempted to wake him up just so I had someone to talk to about it.

But I didn't.




Nick

It took Ashley a week to decide that she wanted to go to see her father. I was both excited to get the time on the trip alone with her - and hopefully find a way to tell her how I felt while we were gone - yet also fucking terrified to death. The trip involved flying to Kansas.

I'd tried Google mapping the trip several times, but it was like multiple days worth of driving verses a few hours. I sat on the airline's website, staring at the "purchase tickets" button, picturing myself on another plane.

Every time I imagined the cabin of a plane, I imagined it at a slight angle. I imagined the smell of smoke and the feeling of my skin literally melting off my face to the window. I pictured the little Iranian woman whose screams were one of the last things I heard before I died for a few minutes.

My mouse hovered over the button.

I clicked.

This, I thought, if nothing else that I'd ever done, should prove how much I love Ashley.

On the day we were scheduled to go, Ashley called and said she would meet me at the airport. Chris, she said, was going to give her a ride over. I packed imagining them having goodbye sex which made me profoundly moody as well as scared to death of the prospect of returning to an airplane for the first time since the crash. I shoved all my shit into my bag feeling like I was preparing for a death sentence.

I just hoped I didn't end up bawling like a baby.

That would be embarassing.

I drove to the airport and left my car in the parking lot, taking a shuttle to the door. I got out and walked inside, waiting by the airline's check point for Ashley to show up. She wandered in the doors about twenty minutes later than she said to meet her originally, dragging her purple suitcase along behind her.

"Hey," she said. She looked about the same as I felt: a blend somewhere between sick and scared.

"Hey."

We stood there awkwardly, both of us reluctant but for different reasons. Finally, she said, "Okay let's go."

"Okay."

We got in line and checked in. The nice ladies at the counter weighed our bags and handed us our boarding passes and we moved on to the escalators and through security, which I always hate taking my shoes off cos they don't smell pleasant, and through the metal detector. After putting our shoes back on, we walked across the airport to our terminal, which of course had to be at the extreme opposite end of the thing. We walked slowly, silently.

About halfway there, Ashley broke the silence. "I told Chris I was going to visit one of my foster parents in Tampa."

I looked over at her.

"I didn't tell him you were coming."

"Why?" I asked.

Ashley shrugged. "It just feels like something just between you and me, I guess."

I nodded slowly. I wasn't sure how to take that.

"I mean, we grew up together, you were there for everything I went through then, you did most of the world and thought and research of this whole thing... and I didn't really wanna tell him about... you know. Everything." Ashley shrugged again. "It feels too private to tell him."

I wondered if it was really too private for me to know about it. But I didn't ask. I relished in the idea that Ashley and I still had secrets, that we still had "things" that didn't involve Chris. It gave me hope. If there were things she and I could share that she and Chris couldn't...well, then. That was a good thing for me.

Not so much for Chris.

"I like sharing things with you," I said outloud as an extension of my thoughts.

Ashley smiled. "It's nice sharing things with you," she said back.

My palms were sweaty. I dunno if it was because Ashley's fucking awesome or because we were just walking up to the gate, but either way they were like tiny oceans. We stood at the edge of the carpeting that indicated our waiting area. I stared at what we could see of the plane outside the window.

"Jesus," I whispered.

Ashley looked up at me, her face dawning with understanding. "This is the first time you've --"

"Yeah," I said.

Ashley licked her lips, then softly reached up and threaded her hand through mine. "It's gonna be okay, Nick," she said.

I wasn't sure if I was comforted by her or freaked out because she could now feel all the sweat in my palm.

"I'm here," she said.

Before: The Kansas Game


Nick

I boarded the plane with Mozart's Requiem in D Minor playing in my head.

"What are you humming?" Ashley asked, looking at me like I was crazy.

"The Introitus sequence of Mozart's Requiem in D Minor," I answered.

"You're such a music nerd."

I shrugged.

"And a pessimist," she added.

But she held my hand as we stepped into the cabin.

I felt like flashbacks were attacking me. I had to clutch her hand extra tight to keep from forgetting they were just flashbacks and nothing more. If it was possible for my hands to get sweatier than they already had been, then mine were. I felt like I was a sponge being rung out. I sat in the center seat, Ashley took the window. I stared out it at the side of the airport. I shuffled my feet. I looked up and turned on the little air blower over my head and fiddled with the in-flight menu.

Ashley put her hand on my knee.

Everyone else shuffled onto the plane. An elderly woman sat next to me with those big diabetic bowling shoes on.

I looked at Ashley. She smiled reassuringly.

Flight attendants started walking up and down the aisle, helping stragglers get their cases up into the bins and checking that everyone was seated properly, and going through their preflight spiel about the belts and the vests and the masks and the escape door.

I felt like I was gonna throw up and I grabbed my barf bag out of the pouch in front of me, just in case. The engines started humming. The flight attendants walked through again for the final check before buckling themselves up. The plane was moving across the tarmac, wheels whistling on concrete. I clutched the barf bag. Ashley put her head against my shoulder. The plane picked up speed. The captain said the bit about us being cleared and the plane really picked up speed. I unfolded the bag and held it to my mouth. The plane lifted off the ground, it shivered as gravity toyed with me.

"Fuck!" I cried.

The little old woman shifted, looking at me with fierce disapporval.

"Sorry," Ashley said to her. She looked at me. "Hey, it's gonna be okay. It's okay. See, look, we're up and we're okay."

"Fuck fuck fuckety fucker fuck," I whined.

The little old woman was definitely not appreciative.

"He was in a plane wreck in January," Ashley said, trying to soothe the angry granny.

"I wanna go back to the ground," I moaned. My face ached. I heard an echo of a baby somewhere and I remembered the baby on the plane. I wondered if that baby lived. "I wanna go back to the ground."

"Shhh... you can't go back to the ground," Ashley said, "We're gonna land in a few hours in Kansas."

"I wanna go back now."

"Here look, let's play a game," Ashley suggested, "The Kansas game. Name things from Kansas. Go."

I didn't wanna play the shitty game.

"Okay, I'll go first," said Ashley when I didn't answer, "Dorothy from the Wizard of OZ. Your turn."

I didn't answer.

"Sunflowers," she added to the list.

Still nothing from me.

"The Kansas City Royals... Melissa Etheridge... Clark Kent... Wheat..."
I closed my eyes.

"Was the band Kansas from Kansas?"

"Yes," I squeaked.




Ashley

I tried the whole flight to calm Nick down and he spent the whole flight a mess. He kept his eyes closed through most of it, so I gave him a play by play of the in-flight movie, and mostly just held his hand a lot. When the stewardess came by asking for drinks, I asked for a ginger ale for him, but he never touched it and I ended up drinking it. I squeezed his hand.

When it was time to land, he cluched the seat's arm rests so tight his knuckles turned white.

When we landed, he shout out of his seat and climbed over the woman sitting next to him and bolted for the door. The woman looked deeply offended. She would probably not be giving Nick good reviews as a seating companion. I rushed after him, apologizing to the woman for his behavior, and wondering if I even owed her an apology. After all, I'd explained. There really is no excuse better than that for the way Nick was acting.

Nick was sitting in one of the plastic chairs in the waiting area when I caught up to him. I sat down next to him and wrapped my arm over his shoulders. He was rocking himself ever so slightly. "Hey," I said, "It's okay."

"How the fuck am I supposed to tour?" he asked.

"Come again?"

"I was so fucking terrified just then," he choked the words. He was trying not to cry, I could tell. "That was such a short flight and it felt like days to me. How the hell am I supposed to go to China? To Japan? I'll never make a 22 hour flight..." He looked up at me. "How the hell am I supposed to tour with the guys?"

I hesitated. "You'll get better at it, the more you fly... eventually --"

"No I won't," Nick interrupted me. "I won't get better. It won't get easier, there is no eventually about it."

"If you want it bad enough, you'll find a way," I answered. "You always have found ways around impossible situations, you're a master at it."

He looked up at me. "I don't even know if I want it anymore."

I stared at him. "What? Nick, how can you even say that? You love your job."

He looked so sad. "I don't know," he said, "I just... I want a real life and I feel like sometimes I never get that when I'm ...me." He looked down at his hands. "I feel like when I'm me I end up with these random women and I never really...connect... and I lose the people who really... matter... to me..." he looked up at me again.

"But --"

Nick shook his head, "I don't know. I'm not saying I'm making a choice, I'm just saying, there's so much that's happened that sometimes..." he sighed, "It's easy to lose sight of what I want and what I feel obligated to do."

I rubbed his back some. "I've known you since you were a little kid, Nick," I said, "And I can't picture you without your music. But I also know that no matter what you choose to do, you're gonna give it your all and that you'll do okay." I hugged him, "But don't let airplanes be your reason, okay?"

His voice shook, "They probably wouldn't even want me back anyways."

"What?"

"The fans," Nick said. "They probably wouldn't even want me anymore. With this fucking scar. I look like a god damn freak." He looked at me, and a tear went across his cheek. Just one. I thought of Cry Baby, the movie with Johnny Depp. I reached over and wiped it off.

"Your true fans love you for more than just your face, Nickolas," I whispered. "They love you for who you are."

Nick shook his head.

"Nick, I've loved you for who you are for years and years and years," I said, "And you've never been a better, kinder, gentler person than you've been recently. You went through hell and you're better for it, and that scar..." I reached over and put my hand on his marred cheek, "That scar is beautiful because it's a part of you. Don't you ever, ever, ever let anyone, including yourself, tell you other wise."

He stared at me, his nostrils flaring as he breathed deeply. He opened his mouth, about to say something, when a girl stepped up timidly. "Excuse me...?" she said. Nick looked at her. "Are you Nick Carter? From the Backstreet Boys?" she asked.

"Yeah, I am.." he said.

I sat back and smiled, watching as the girl asked Nick for his autograph and told him she hoped the 20th Anniversary CD came out soon.

Seriously, you couldn't ask for better timing, I thought.

Before: Do Right By Her


Ashley

We rented a car and Nick drove us to the hotel so we could clean up before going over to the prison. Nick showered first and sat on the end of the bed afterwards watching cartoons while I went in and took my own shower. I turned the hot water on as high as it would go, letting the water scald my back, my palms pressed to the tiled wall, breathing in the steam. My hair hung like a ruby curtain and I stared down at the textured floor of the tub.

When I climbed out of the shower, I felt scared. I dug through my suitcase, which I'd rolled in with me, until I found the red dress with the white polka dots that I'd bought just for this trip. I shimmied it on over my head and swiped my red lipstick over my mouth. I stood staring at myself in the mirror, my hair still damp, hanging in stringy curls like I'd just stepped out of the ocean. My heart was pounding so hard and we weren't even there yet.

Would he recognize me? I wondered. Did he know anything about me?

When I stepped out of the bathroom, Nick looked up from the TV and let out a low whistle. "Woww... damn you clean up nice," he commented.

"Oh shut up," I said.

"I'm serious," Nick replied. He snapped the TV off. "Damn."

"Well. Then. Thank you, I guess," I replied. I tossed my hair back. I was too nervous to feel pretty. I wrung my hands and grabbed my purse, stepping into blue high heels and shrugging on a denim jacket. I stared at Nick.

He was staring back.

"You ready?" I asked.

"Eager?" he smiled.

I shook my head, "I just know if I sit I'll lose my nerve."

"Okay, then, let's go."

We walked down to the car and Nick plugged in the address on his phone, and we started driving. I stared out the window, sick to my stomach. A town larger than I'd ever really imagined being in Kansas flew by out my window. Nick reached over and squeezed my knee gently.

"You okay?" he asked.

"I'm scared to death," I said, "But otherwise doing okay."

"Like I said when we started this thing... There's nothing to lose, only to gain. At least when this is over, you'll know."

"I just don't know what I'm expecting," I said quietly, "I mean, he can't come to my wedding, he can't explain away what he did, there's really no point to this." I stared down at my lap.

"There is a point," Nick said. I glanced over at him, he was staring straight ahead as he drove. "The point is that you've met your father. However shitty he is, you've met him, and you can tell him how you feel and telling him... maybe it'll help you feel better."

"You know I don't have the nerve to tell him anything," I said, "He's essentially a stranger."

Nick glanced over at me as he pulled to a stop at a redlight. "Did I tell you how beautiful you look today?" he asked.

I laughed, "Stop, you're gonna make me think I'm pretty or something."

"You are," he insisted.

"Says the man who called me Dogface for twenty-something years."

"You know that was military ranks," he frowned. "Besides, I stopped. Remember?"

I laughed, "Besides, you think anything with breasts is pretty."

"Not anything," he argued. "Gym teachers, they have breasts. I don't think they're pretty."

"They have manboobs, that's different."

"Not all of them."

"Yeah 'cos they're men in disguise," I argued.

"Chickens have breasts, I don't think chickens are pretty," he argued.

I laughed, "Some people do. Beastiality came from some origin."

"I knew a guy who did a goat once," Nick said. "I didn't stay friends with him after I found out 'cos thats fucked up, you know?"

"Was his name Aberforth?"

Nick hooted out a laugh, "Oh shit."

"Well you know that's what was being got at," I laughed, "Rowling did an excellent job of saying it without saying it."

"How many hundreds of Potter fans are gonna grow up and 'get it' one day and be traumatized for the rest of their damn lives because Dumbledore's brother fucked a goat?" Nick was laughing so hard he was crying.

The light turned green.

"To be honest, I was a little traumatized when I read it a second time and it hit me," I admitted, "I didn't get it the first time."

"I got it."

"That's because you're a perv."

Nick put on the blinker and turned into a long, winding driveway that led across a huge ass parking lot. There was a gigantic brick and concrete building with barred windows and huge fences taller than the building, headed with thick coils of barbed wire, and a guard standing on the roof with a gun so big I could see it from where we were.

I stared ahead, wide-eyed, the humor of the moment melting away the moment I had laid eyes upon the prison.

Nick parked and we stared out the window.

We'd done this last Christmas at his mother's house. I wondered if it was something to do with parents being contained inside making a building look scarier than it was. Did Nick's house look like this in his eyes?

"You ready?" Nick asked.

"No," I whispered. But I reached for the door handle.

As we walked across the parking lot, Nick caught my hand and laced his fingers through mine. "Hey Ashley?"

"Yeah?" I asked.

"I'm here," he said.

And I knew he was echoing what I'd said as we had boarded the plane back in Los Angeles. And it was comforting.




Nick

I've been arrested twice, but I also managed to not land myself inside one of these high security type places. After walking across the parking lot toward it and stepping inside, I swore to God that I'd be good for the rest of my days. No way in hell was I going to end up in one of these places - ever.

Ashley clung to my arm like she was pasted there and I could feel her body pulsating with nerves.

An officer at a reception desk just inside looked up from behind bullet-proof glass. He stood up, putting down the newspaper he'd been reading, and pressed a buzzer to a microphone. "Can I help you?" he asked, looking from me to Ashley.

Ashley started to answer but nothing came out except a terrified, tiny squeak, so I said, "We're here to visit with Henry Jackson."

The officer studied us a moment, turned to a computer and started clicking on the keyboard. "And who are you?" he asked.

"My name is Nick Carter, this is Ashley Jackson. His daughter."

"It's going to be a minute," the officer said. "Have a seat." He waved at a bank of chairs.

Ashley didn't stop shaking the entire time we sat there. And a minute had really been a gross underestimation, because over an hour went by. I tried to make small talk, but, like me on the plane, Ashley didn't want anything to do with it. So I finally resorted to just hugging her. A part of me wondered if this was a mistake. "Do you want to leave?" I asked her quietly.

"No," she shook her head.

After what seemed like forever, the cop waved us back and said that we could have a few minutes to talk to Henry. A door to our left buzzed and another officer opened it and came out and called us over and we followed him through dark, dismal hallways, upstairs, and down another, even longer, even more dismal hallway.

Finally, he opened a door, and waved us into a room just like you see in the movies with the long bank of booths, separated by glass, phones on either side. "Have a seat in booth eleven," he said. "Jackson will be brought out in just a moment." He stood sentry at the door.

Ashley melted into the chair. She looked at me.

"It's gonna be okay," I said.

She nodded.

I wanted to tell her that I loved her, but it seemed like an inappropriate place and time to utter such a confession. I was afraid she'd think the only reason I said it was because she was upset, and not understand that I meant it with all my heart.

A door opened on the otherside of the bank of phones and Ashley stiffened and grabbed my hand even tighter than she'd been holding it before. An officer entered, followed by a man whose vibrant red hair was thick and unruly and dirty. He sat down across from us, and looked up. His face was guant and his jaw quavering slightly. He had Ashley's narrow nose, but not her eyes. He was wearing the orange jumpsuit and hand cuffs. He stared through the glass at us, well at Ashley.

He reached up with both hands, cuffed as they were, and lifted the phone off the hook, bringing it to his ear. I reached for the phone hanging on the wall beside me and handed it to Ashley.

She held it up so we both could hear.

"Hello," he said. His voice was thick.

"Huuuhhh..." Ashley said, not quite getting the "ello" part of the word out. She had tears streaming down her face as she stared, gape-mouthed.

"Ashley," he said.

Her eyes lit up when he said her name. "Yes," she said. "How - how did you know my name?"

He smiled slightly, sadly, "I gave it to you. Before..." he cast his eyes away for a moment, then brought them back to meet hers. "You have her eyes," he whispered.

"My mother," Ashley said.

He nodded. Then for the first time, his eyes shifted to me. "Are you taking good care of her?" he asked.

"Why do you care?" Ashley snapped before I could formulate an answer.

Henry looked back at her, "Ashley," he said, "I would do anything to go back and change what - what happened. I'd do anything to take it back and still have her, still have you." His eyes were profoundly sad and somewhere deep inside me I knew he wasn't just saying the words he thought she wanted to hear.

"Well you can't," she said, her voice wobbling. "You can't undo the last thirty-three years."

"I don't want to change thirty-three years, just one moment... and I've spent the last thirty-three years thinking about the moment that I wish I could change."

"Good," she answered. "You should. You ruined three lives. Mine, hers, your own." Ashley's lip trembled, "I've wanted a father my entire life."

"I am... so... sorry," Henry said.

Ashley's face crumpled, and a deep-gutted sob broke out of her. She stood up, shoving the phone at me, and walked away.

"I'm sorry," I said hurriedly into the phone.

I was about to hang up, about to go after her, when he said, "Do right by her."

Our eyes met and he said, "I made a terrible mistake a very long time ago and it cost me everything... it cost me my beautiful girl. She's been through enough shit because of me now." He stared at me solidly, "Don't hurt her. Please. Don't hurt her no more."

I nodded. "I wouldn't dream of it, sir," I said. And I hung up and ran after Ashley.

After: Viva Las Vegas


Ashley

No way in hell is he serious.

Haul off and marry me in Las Vegas? What kind of damn drugs is he on?

No way does he want to do that. Not really.

Nick get married?

To me?

And yet...

The look on Nick's face was not his I'm-just-fucking-with-you expression. The gleam in his eye was more of the please-say-yes variety than the what-the-fuck-have-I-done sort. The pace of his breath was more scared-to-be-rejected than shit-what-if-she-agrees.

Is he serious?

Was this the moment that I'd been dreaming about since I was a little girl? Was this the moment that one day I'd go all Ted Mosby-ish and tell my kids all about? Was this Nick proposing to me?

I couldn't catch my breath, I couldn't move. I could tell that the silence was making him nervous and uncomfortable and with every passing second he got twitchier and his face got paler. I was scaring the poor guy to death and yet I couldn't seem to wrap my mind around what was happening long enough to squeak out an answer.

Do I want to marry Nick?

I pictured him when he was older, more lines on his face, his eyes probably a little paler, his hair thinner. I pictured him on a porch in a rocking chair. I pictured him with dentures and glasses and pants that rode up over his belly like Fred Mertz.

I've never imagined a sexier old man in all my damn life.

My mouth went dry, my jaw hanging slack. Nick looked about ready to hurl.

What about Chris? my mind reeled, What about the wedding? The honeymoon you've already booked? What about the wild penguins?

But I knew Nick would take me to see the penguins if I asked him.

"Yes," I said outloud. At first I didn't even think I'd actually said it. It felt like an extension of my thoughts, and Nick didn't immediately react, he stayed steadily staring at me, his eyes wide.

I suddenly became aware of the waitress. When she showed up at our table, only God knows. She was talking about sugar or something and she was making it snow over our little pancake balls and Nick looked up at her. "We need these to go," he said.

She looked confused, "I - what?"

"To go," he said, "We have a wedding to get to."

My heart was slamming. The poor confused waitress took the plate away, grumbling, and Nick never peeled his eyes away from mine. "You're serious about this?" he questioned me.

"I could ask the same of you," I replied.

"I'm serious," he said levelly.

"Me, too," I answered.

We kept staring at each other until the waitress returned with a pile of three take out containers in a bag. "Here's your meals, and your check whenever you're ready for it," she said.

Nick handed her a fifty. "That should do it." He took the bag and stood up, offering his hand to me.

I stared at the lifeline stretching across his palm. I followed his arm with my eyes - up, over his biceps, over his shoulder, up his neck to his face, to his eyes.

"C'mon," he said. I thought of Aladdin inviting Jasmine onto his magic carpet, the first time that Jasmine had been out of Agrabah.

I let him pull me up out of the booth.

And I suddenly realized... I was gonna marry Nick Carter.




Nick

The next thing I knew, we were running down the street, back to the car. I had the bag of food on my wrist, Ashley was shrieking and holding one of those free newspapers over her hair. It had started raining while we were in there, and there were pools of water in the street and on the sidewalks, reflecting the neon lights. The puddles broke like fireworks under our feet as we splashed through on our way to the car.

"What about our honeymoon?" Ashley asked as we ran.

"We'll go any place, any place in the world," I shouted back.

Ashley grabbed my hand, trailing behind by one or two steps, "And where will we live?" she asked.

"My place," I answered, "You've always loved my place."

"Can I paint the living room?"

"Baby, you can do anything you wanna do," I answered.

"Anything?"

"Anything..." I said. "Ashley, I'd give you the world and everything in it if I had it to give."

She smiled up at me as we crossed the parking lot for the 7-Eleven. "And we'll take walks on the beach at nigh, drinking coffee and listening to the seagulls."

"Under the stars," I added.

Her eyes were dreamy. "And we'll drink beers and shoot golf balls off the back porch," she laughed, "And fight over the Buccs games."

"And we'll do shots during the commercial breaks," I laughed.

"And have a giant portrait of Elvis over the fireplace," Ashley said excitedly, "Since he's our minister and all," she laughed.

We arrived at the car and she started to go around to the passanger side, but I caught her hand and stalled her. She turned to look up at me, her eyes glowing in the dim orangey light of the garage. "Ashley," I said, "I love you."

It was so much easier to say now that she knew, now that I'd said it once, now that it was in the air between us. There were no sirens, no distractions, no interruptions. Just the words, out of my mouth and into her ears.

Ashley smiled up at me. "I love you, Nick," she answered.

She stood on tip toes, and our mouths met, and I slipped my fingers up through her hair, pulled her closer, sliding my other hand to the small of her back. She fit so perfectly in my hands, fit so perfectly against my mouth. Everything about her was perfect.

We broke the kiss and Ashley grinned up at me, and we separated, each getting into our own sides of the car. I rolled the top up and the engine roared to life and I reached over and twined my fingers between hers and she turned on a playlist on her iPod on my speakers and the music filled the cabin of the car as the roof closed over.

It was Elvis Presley.

"Viva Las Vegas," I said, smiling.

"Viva Las Vegas," she agreed, nodding.

If we had gone straight to Las Vegas from that parking garage -- if Ashley hadn't remembered her wedding dress, and we hadn't gone back to the hotel... if we hadn't stopped at the gas station halfway to Nevada to get breath mints and condoms... -- if the story had ended with us getting in the car and going, then maybe Ashley and I would've been married by Elvis Presley in Las Vegas that night.

But if there's one thing that I've learned over the last couple years it's this:

The story doesn't always end where you want it to.

Before: Sleeping Together


Nick

Ashley was sitting on the floor in the hallway, the guard was leaning over her, perplexed. He was used to yelling, angry men, not crumpled-faced girls with salty wet tears running across her cheeks. He backed away as I dropped to my knees in front of her, "Ashley, hey," I said. I reached for her hands. They were trembling so hard I almost couldn't catch them at first.

I heard the buzzers and doors on the other side as they took Henry away.

The officer stood awkwardly over us, waiting, impatient to lead us back through the bowels of the prison to the doors. Ashley's sobs were making him uncomfortable.

I rubbed her back softly. "It's okay... it's okay..." I whispered.

She hiccuped.

That was the sign she was calming down. She always hiccuped when she finished crying. I looked up at the guard and I pulled Ashley's arms over my neck and helped her to her shaky feet. She clung to me, making fists around the fabric of my shirt. I wrapped my arms around her, tucking my hand under her far arm to brace her up.

"Right this way," the uncomfortable officer said, waving us along the corridor.

The officer at the entry way gave me a handful of tissues for Ashley, concern on his face and I saluted him as we went out the door into the fading sunlight. I slid her into the car and she hesitantly let go of my shirt and I said "watch your fingers" and closed the passenger door.

When I got back in the car, Ashley was folded forward, her eyes covered by her hands. I sat, my palms rubbing against the steering wheel, staring down at my lap, unsure what to say. It took a very long time before she managed, "I look so much like him, what if I - what if what he did is -" she sounded raw.

"Ashley you're being silly," I said quietly.

She shook her head.

"You're not a killer," I whispered.

"Why did he kill her?" she sobbed.

I shrugged, even though she wasn't looking at me. "Maybe we shouldda asked him that," I answered quietly.

Ashley choked back a sob. "I couldn't look at him," she croaked.

"It's okay," I said. "I think he understood."

She looked up at me. "You must think I'm mental."

I shook my head no.

"I think I'm mental."

I laughed and rubbed her shoulder. "Only in good ways."

Ashey let out a slow, low sigh. I wasn't sure if that had hurt her feelings or not. I hadn't meant it to. But she didn't say anything, she just wiped the tears out of her eyes and leaned back in the seat. She looked better, so I assumed she was. She unrolled her window as I backed the car out of the space and started toward the main road.

"Are you hungry?" I asked her.

She shook her head, "I just wanna go back to the hotel and sleep," she answered.

"Okay." I was hungry, but I wasn't gonna say anything. If she needed to go back to the hotel then back to the hotel we'd go.

When we got there, Ashley fell into bed and curled up next to the pillow, her face pressed into it, rolled so that her back was to me, where I'd sat at the end of the opposite bed. I turned the TV on and flipped through the channels aimlessly, but there wasn't much on. I glanced over at Ashey. She was laying on her back now, staring up at the ceiling.

"What's wrong?" I asked her.

"I miss Chris," she answered.

I gnawed my lower lip.

"I can't sleep without him anymore," she complained. "I fall asleep listening to his heart beat. I feel safe if I can hear it. I know I'm not alone."

I got up and went over and crawled onto her bed with her. I spread out my arms. "My heartbeat's a little irregular, but you can listen to it if you want," I said.

Ashley smiled, "You're such a good friend," she said. The word friend scorched me but I didn't say anything. She crawled over and pressed her head against my chest and I wrapped my arms around her. She snuggled against me. I breathed in her hair. "See, now I feel safe," she said.

I stared up at the ceiling.

"Remember when we went to your mom's house and I caught you sleep-cupping?" Ashley suddenly asked.

"Yeah," I answered, glancing at the TV. Jeopardy was on.

"Don't do that again," she laughed. "Chris would beat your ass."

"I could take Chris," I answered.

Ashley laughed and closed her eyes and the next thing I knew she was fast asleep.




Ashley

I woke up at ten o'clock, famished and still pressed into Nick's chest. His chest heaved as he snored loudly, his mouth hanging open and eyes fluttering through the REM cycle. I slowly, carefully pulled away, sliding off the side of the bed. It wasn't until I was standing up that I realized what had woken me in the first place: my cell phone was vibrating on the nightstand. Chris smiled up at me. I grabbed my phone and snuck across the room, into the bathroom, and closed the door. I sat on the side of the tub and answered the phone. "Hello?" I said quietly.

"Hey babe," Chris was smiling, I could hear it in his voice. Then he paused. "Shit I woke you up didn't I? I forgot the time zone thing."

"It's okay," I answered.

"You sure? You sound tired. How was your day? Did you have fun with your friend?"

My mind wheeled for a moment until I remembered that I hadn't told Chris exactly the truth about where I was going and who I was with. "Yeah," I said, "A blast. How's the um, apartment?" I asked.

"Quiet without you," he answered with a sigh. "The episode of Planet Earth with the penguins is on Discovery channel."

"Yeah?"

"Yep. I'm watching it, thinking of you. I know you love those goofy things."

"I do," I answered.

Chris changed the topic, "When are you coming hoooome?" he asked.

"Soon," I answered. "Tomorrow. You know the flight schedule."

"I know but I miss you," Chris whined.

In the other room I heard Nick choke on his own snore and wake up with a snort. I heard the mattress creak as he moved. I knew his next step would be to come knock on the door. "Chris, I gotta go," I said. The last thing I needed was Chris to hear Nick knocking at the door and finding out that I lied about going with Nick.

"Already?"

Nick was shuffling toward the bathroom door.

"I'm sorry, I'll call you later, bye," I said the words all in one rushed sentence, then hung up the phone just as Nick knocked on the bathroom door.

"Ashley?"

"Be right out!"

"Are you okay?"

"Yes!"

I grabbed a face cloth and washed my face. I had make up left over from earlier caked onto my cheeks. I ran my brush through my snarly hair and gargled with the complimentary mouthwash real quick, then stepped into the main part of the room. Nick was putting on his sneakers.

"Please tell me you're hungry now," he begged, "Cos if I don't eat soon, I'm gonna die."

I laughed, "I was just thinking food would be good."

He finished with his sneaker then looked up at me. "So.. you're okay?" he double-checked.

"I'm okay," I replied.

Before: Erection Extinguished


Ashley

"Well room service closed at nine-thirty," Nick said, putting the phone down. He'd pretty much gone through the entire phone book trying to find a place that had steak on the menu, which is what he'd decided he wanted. Apparently Kansas was not as happening a place as Los Angeles.

"You could get a cow out of a field," I joked. "I saw at least a thousand on the way here."

Nick turned back to the phone book.

"Honestly, at this point, does it have to be steak?" I asked in my best pleading voice, "Can't it just be whatever's open?" I was hungry enough I would've eaten a hot dog out of one of those rolling cookers at a truck stop.

Nick consented and called three more places before he found the obvious answer: "There's an IHOP like seven miles from here."

"Done."

We got to the IHOP about forty minutes later and basked in its 24-hour glow. The waitress was a little old woman with blonde hair styled like she was still in 1962 and her lip stick on her teeth. She gave us menus and waddled away carrying her order pad in her apron pocket. Nick opened the menu, "I can't believe I didn't notice this at the first glance," he muttered.

IHOP was our thing.

We once did an IHOP tour. But that's a whole story all its own.

"I can't believe you didn't either," I said, "Seriously Nickolas, you're slipping."

He looked over the menu at me, I could only see his eyes. The menu blocked almost all of his scar, and for a moment I forgot all the shit we'd been through in the past six months and it was just me and Nick sitting across from each other at IHOP. His eyes sparkled, and I could tell he was smirking at me from behind that menu... I laughed.

"What?" he asked. He lowered the menu, and the spell broke.

I shook my head, "Nothing," I lied.

"Something," he said, eyeballing me.

"I was just thinking you're cute," I answered.

His face turned as red as my hair. He ducked back behind the menu. I could hear him whispering to himself back there. I laughed and reached over and plucked the menu away. "Getting good answers?" I teased him.

"Just.. the same one... over and over again," he replied. He stared at me. "Ashley, you ever like just know when something's right and you dunno how to explain it to other people but it's just perfect?"

I thought about what he was saying. "You mean like when you find just the right foothold on the bed or the perfect position on the couch so your arm doesn' t fall asleep?"

Nick's face twisted in confusion for a second, then he said slowly, "I guess."

"Well what do you mean?" I asked.

"Just... you know... you find like... the perfect person and they're just perfect for you and --"

"You mean like me and Chris."

Nick's face twisted again. "Not exactly what I meant but --"

"Did you meet someone?" I asked him. He never talked like this. I was intrigued. I wanted to know who the lady was. I felt a pang of jealousy, too. She must've been something really special to have him talking like this. Like I said... Nick never talked like this.

Nick shrugged, "I dunno, not really met..."

I raised my eyebrow, "Nickolas, are you Internet dating?"

"What? No!" he scowled.

I eyed him. "You know her name at least, right?"

"Oh I know her name," he assured me.

"Do I know her?"

Nick opened his mouth to reply, but the waitress showed up. "Can I take your order?" she asked, pulling the notepad out of her pouch pocket and grinning down at us with her lipsticked teeth.

"Pancake puppies," I said, grinning at Nick, "With the powdered sugar, please. With bacon on the side and orange juice."

"Okay... and for you?" The waitress turned to Nick as she finished writing down my order.

Nick was staring at me. I kicked him under the table.

"I'll um, I'll have the same," he stammered.

The waitress scribbled on the pad, then waddled away.

"What? No breakfast burrito?" I nudged him in the shin with my toes.

"Nawh," he replied.

"You feeling okay? You look pale or something," I said.

Nick shrugged, "I'll be right back." He scooted out of the booth and walked off to the men's restroom, which was around a corner behind one of those claw games with all the stuffed animals. I sat and waited.




Nick

I paced in the men's restroom. "Stupid, stupid, stupid..." I muttered as I walked back and forth and back and forth. I couldn't believe I'd let such a perfect opportunity to say something to her slip by me. I'd sworn to myself when she'd fallen asleep in my arms back at the hotel that I'd tell her that I loved her and that I'd do anything to make her feel safe like that every night for the rest of my life. But then I'd tried out there and I'd gotten all retarded and tongue-tied and she'd mistaken what I meant, and I felt like a total idiot now.

Why in the hell was it so damn hard to just say three little words to her?

I knew why. Because her hair smelled fruity and nice and her skin was soft and she used fabric softener when she cleaned her clothes. It was because she was Ashley and she was so perfect that all I could do was yammer like an idiot, proving myself not good enough.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid..." I continued muttering as I paced.

The door creaked. "Hello?" It was the waitress, calling from the door.

"Someone in here," I called back. She probably wanted to clean or something.

"Your wife was wondering where you went to," she called back.

I stared at the mirror, "She's not my wife," I replied.

"Oh. Fiance." The door closed and she was gone.

I shook my head, "Fuck I wish," I answered, even though she wasn't there to hear me.

I took a deep breath and splashed my face with ice water before returning to the table. Ashley was pouring maple syrup over the piping hot pancake puppies the waitress must've just brought over before coming to find me. She looked up as I sat down, "Welcome back, Carter," she quipped, grinning.

"Thanks Barbarino," I replied. I took the syrup jar after she was finished with it and poured it over my own pancake puppies.

Ashley speared one of the balls with her fork and shoved it into her mouth, humming with delight. "Oh God yeah," she moaned, "Now that hits the spot."

Just like that, I felt an erection coming on.

Jesus.

I took a bite of one of my own puppies and chewed slowly, trying to think of anything except the noise Ashley had just made. It wasn't working very well.

She grinned at me, "What the hell are you thinking about?" she asked, laughing.

You, having an orgasm, I thought. But what I said was "Just... how good maple syrup tastes."

I wondered what maple syrup would taste like if I licked it off of Ashley's skin.

Don't think about that! my brain screamed. My penis was begging otherwise. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat and wondered if I could get away with returning to the bathroom.

Ashley's eyebrow was raised and she shook her head, "You are so not thinking about maple syrup."

"Am too," I argued.

Ashley smirked.

"What?"

"You gotta tell me who she is," she replied.

"What?"

"This girl that's so perfect for you that makes you get all excited just thinking about her," Ashley scolded.

"I'm not excited about her," I stammered.

Ashley laughed, "Nick it wouldn't take but a glance under the table to prove me right. Especially not in those jeans you're wearing."

"What's wrong with my jeans?"

"Could they be tighter?"

"They're supposed to be tight."

Ashley laughed. "Seriously. Who is she?"

"She's..." you I wanted to say, she's you. But the words wouldn't come out, so I lamely said, "She's just this girl."

"Just a perfect girl by the sounds."

"Yeah," I nodded.

"Does she know?"

"Know what?"

"That you love her?"

I shook my head.

"You should tell her," Ashley said.

I wanted to blurt it out. The moment would've been perfect. But my tongue felt tied in a knot.

"It's - it's hard - to.. to tell her," I stammered.

Ashley nodded slowly, "I get that. I mean you can actally really truly love someone and be unable to say the words to them..." She sighed. "Chris says it's okay but I can tell it bothers him."

"Wait.. what?"

Ashley flushed. "I haven't told Chris I love him yet," she confessed. "It's just... I dunno. That's weird, right? That I'm marrying him but I can't say I love you to him?"

"A little," I said.

"Chris thinks its because of my abandonment issues," she said.

"You've said it to me," I pointed out. My heart was pounding.

Ashley shrugged. "It's easier to say it to a brother than to a lover, isn't it?"

Erection extinguished. Just like that.

Brother?!

BROTHER?!???!!!

And I thought the word friendhad scorched me before, when I'd first crawled up on the bed to hug her to sleep... that was nothing compared to being called a brother.

Jeuss H. Christ, what the hell have I done, putting off telling her so long?!??

Before: I Really, Really Thank You


Ashley

Nick acted funny the rest of the night.

When we got back to the hotel, he went straight to bed without even turning on the TV. I laid down on my own bed, wishing he'd come back over and hold me again. I hugged my pillow and texted Chris.

Hey, I typed.

Hey baby :)

Miss u

Miss u more, he answered.

At the moment, I doubted that. I hated feeling alone, particuluarly when I was about to go to sleep. I didn't need a psycology degree to know that Chris was right and it was very much tied into abandonment issues. I wondered if all orphans have that problem, or if it was just me. I glanced over my shoulder at Nick. He was still back-to me. I wondered if he was awake.

The phone vibed in my hand and I looked down at it.

I cant wait 2 pick u up @ LAX tmw, Chris typed.

I pictured getting off the plane and having Chris waiting for me. I smiled and was about to answer back to him when I realized two things: one, I wasn't gonna be on the plane Chris thought I was because I wasn't coming back from Florida, and, two, Nick was going to be there.

There was no way in hell Chris could pick me up at the airport.

Dont pick me up ill take a cab, I texted.

But I miss u, Chris replied.

But its silly for u to drive all the way out to LAX when I can just take a cab. we will go out after 4 dinner, I suggested.

k.

It was the last thing he typed to me all night, even though I texted him a couple more times after that. I wondered briefly if he was angry with me. But I was too exhausted to think about the ramifications of that anger too long. I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling, letting out a low, deep sigh.

I heard Nick's mattress creak.

"You okay?" he asked into the dark.

I glanced over at him. He was in a position like he'd been doing push ups... a position like... like the night we shared together in Vegas and I suddenly had a flash of the memory of laying beneath him, of feeling him inside me, of heavy breathing and blood rushing through my veins, of believing that I could handle being friends with benefits.

I looked away.

"Ashley?" he asked.

"I'm fine," I replied.

He moved, rolling onto his back, too, so we laid there in two separate beds in the same position, both staring up at the ceiling, arms tucked under our heads.

"You really haven't told Chris you love him?" Nick asked after a few minutes of silence had passed.

"No," I replied.

"Why?"

I thought about it. Why hadn't I told Chris that I loved him? I did. He was the sweetest man all the time. Like Nick has this thing where he can be really sweet sometimes and a total asshole other times, but Chris is just really sweet all the damn time. He buys me flowers and he remembers little anniversaries. Like every month on the 14th he comes home and says Happy Anniversary to me because it's been another month of us being together. It's adorable. And he folds my socks the way I like them and puts them in my drawer in chromatic order, which I like, too.

"I guess I don't know how to say it," I said finally.

"I know the feeling," Nick muttered.

"It's hard, right?" I said, shaking my head, "Why's it gotta be so hard?"

"I have no idea," he replied.

"I mean, I know he loves me back, I'm not afraid he doesn't love me back. So why the hell can't I just look him in the eye and say Christopher, I love you? I want to. I really do want to." I looked over at Nick. He was biting his fingernails. "Do you want to say it to your Mystery Lady?" I asked.

"More than anything," Nick replied.

I sighed. "Too bad we couldn't both just say it, huh? Maybe all our problems would be solved if we both just said it. What do you think?"

Nick was quiet a moment. "I don't think all the problems would be solved if we both said it."

Silence fell over us again, and I studied the bumps on the ceiling. I could feel myself falling asleep. Then through the dark came Nick's voice again. "Ashley?"

"Mmm?" I hummed.

"I.... thank... you."

"What?"

"Thank you."

I was too sleepy to find this too weird. "For what?" I mumbled.

"I dunno... for... whatever, just...really, really thank you."

"You're welcome, Nick. For whatever it is you're thanking me for," I said. And I drifted off to sleep.




Nick

Thank you? Seriously? The fuck, Carter?

I heard her breathing steady out and I knew she was asleep so I rolled over onto my side and curled up, frustrated with myself. Thank you. What the hell kind of idiot move was that?

The next morning, I got up before Ashley did and I went in and got dressed and put all the complimentry soaps into my backpack. I don't know why. It's just something I've always done. It comes from the days when Backstreet was just starting and we spent a lot of nights on layovers and sleeping on floors at various venues. I've had more than my fair share of washing my hair in sink basins in public bathrooms as a result and these little complimentary shampoos always come in handy for those type situations.

Thinking of the early days as I brushed my teeth, I stared at my scar and wondered how everything was going to shake out with the band. I pictured letting it slip out of my grasp, but I couldn't imagine quitting the Backstreet Boys. It'd been such a huge part of my life for so long, but at the same time I was scared shitless by what the media and the fans would think of my damn face.

The scar was fading, everyday getting less and less severe, but it was still there. It was a darker shade of pink than the rest of my skin, slowly turning an almost iradescent silver-pink color along the edges of it. I hated the way it made my mouth droop.

I thought about the fans. The few that I'd met since the crash had been cool about it, but God only knows what they'd said online in the social media and the forums an stuff where they all populate. I pictured them making a Twitter account called like Nick's Disfigurement Support Group or some shit. Team Nick's Scar. Something like that.

I spit my used toothpaste into the sink basin.

I pictured Howie, Kevin, Brian and AJ reacting to me quitting the band. I wondered if they'd keep performing without me like we'd all done when Kevin had left the band. I wondered if that would work. Probably not, I thought. But at the same time that assumption felt kind of conceited of me to make.

"Nick?" Ashley's voice carried through the bathroom door.

I opened the door, tooth brush still in my hand. Ashley was dressed already. She must've changed in the main part of the room. "You almost ready?" she asked.

"Yeah," I replied.

We traded places, she took the bathroom and I finished getting ready in the main room. I was taking my time. I wasn't really looking forward to the flight home. Although it wasn't quite as ominous as the flight out had been, I still wasn't comfortable with the idea of being on board a plane.

But Ashley was there for me again the whole time.

We got bagels at the airport and sat and watched planes land and take off while we waited to board our flight and Ashley nudged me as she chewed on her onion bagel, "See, look how many planes take off without a single problem," she said. "Way more than crash. Think about how many flights you've been on in the past, and there's only been one you've ever had problems on."

"They were pretty big problems," I pointed out.

Ashley laced her fingers through mine.

As I boarded the plane, I thought about the Backstreet Boys and the fans and my dreams and career. I imagined myself without it, and I knew I didn't want to quit it. I looked at Ashley, "I have to get used to this, don't I?" I said as we sat down.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to do," she said, shrugging.

We settled into our seats, "I want to be a Backstreet Boy," I said.

"Then you have to."

I gripped Ashley's hand. "Help me get through it."

"I'm here, Nick," she said.

"I know," I answered.

She smiled.

I closed my eyes and tried not to feel the plane take off or the turbulance we hit on the way home. I tried not to hear the echos in my mind or feel the residual skin memories in my cheek. I tried to pretend this was just any other day from before, when flying wasn't a big deal and my biggest concern was if my Gameboy battery would hold out.

I was still thankful when we landed at LAX, though. Still tempted to kiss the ground. But not on the verge of tears, shaking and petrified like I had been the first time.

"See you did it," Ashley said proudly as we collected our bags from the overhead bins. "There's hope yet. It stands to reason that you'll only get better at flying." She smiled.

"Yeah," I said. "Maybe."

My palms were sweaty none the less.

We were walking out to the terminal, holding hands again, when I realized I'd wasted the whole trip and still hadn't told her anything more than the lame ass thank you the night before.

"Shit."

I looked up at the sound of Ashley's curse, and I saw him: Chris was standing a couple feet in front of us, holding up a sign with her name written on it, holding a bouqet of flowers.

"Ohhhh shit, shit," she whispered. And I felt her drop my hand like a hotcake.

After: Take Me Back


Ashley

The two hours I spent with Nick in the car heading to Las Vegas that night were two of the happiest hours of my entire life. I felt complete for the first time, like the puzzle pieces had fallen into place, like the world was finally making itself right. The sky seemed deeper, the stars seemed brighter, and everything was magic, like waking up on Christmas morning when you're five years old.

Nick pulled into the 7-Eleven at about 3:45 AM, parked the car by the gas pump, and we both got out. We kissed, leaning against the car while the gasoline filled up the tank, and I put my hands on either side of his face and he had his hands on my hips and the gas pump clicked to inform us it was finished.

"I'm gonna run inside," he said, "You want anything?"

"Altoids," I said, "The cinnamon ones?"

He nodded and jogged into the store. I sat in the car, looking in the visor mirror and applying lip gloss on my mouth. My eyes caught sight of the garment bag - my wedding dress - hanging from the dry cleaner clip behind Nick's seat. I smiled at it. I'd remembered it on the outskirts of Los Angeles and Nick had graciously turned around and I'd run inside to grab it and my make up bag.

I had felt a little bit like a Ninja going into the hotel for my dress. I'd slipped into the elevator and snuck to my room and grabbed the dress off the bed, terrified that I'd bump into Chris or one of his parents or one of the other wedding guests. I was scared to have to explain myself, afraid that if I tried to it wouldn't make as much sense to be running away with Nick to Las Vegas in words spoken outloud as it did in my heart and mouth.

I was afraid to wake up and find that this had all been a dream.

But Chris wasn't anywhere to be seen.

So I just grabbed the dress, my curling iron, and my make-up bag, and rushed back down to where Nick was waiting in the car, tossing all my stuff in the backseat before we peeled out like Bonnie and Clyde.

Imagine, I almost got married without make-up.

I looked down and rooted around for my eyeliner. It was buried at the very bottom, with a little pocket calendar I kept in there with kittens on the cover.

I looked back up at the mirror, a nagging feeling coming over me, like I was forgetting something, like something wasn't right. I smeared the eyeliner along the rims of my eyes, swiped my lashes with mascara, and just a tiny bit of powder over my nose.

My phone vibrated.

It was a text from Chris.

And as I read it, that's when I realized what was bothering me.

I climbed out of the car and headed into the gas station.




Nick

I had the strangest assortment of shit imaginable. I put it all down on the counter and the cashier started ringing it up one by one. Altoids, a bag of Cheetos, two bottles of cranberry juice, a pack of Lifesavers, and a box of condoms.

"I'm getting married today," I told the cashier as he rung up the condoms.

He didn't answer.

"Twenty two thirty six," he said.

The door dinged and Ashley came in the gas station, typing a text out on her cell phone.

"Hey," I called to her, pulling my wallet out of my pocket. "You think of something else you need?"

"A bathroom?" she asked, looking up from her message.

The guy pointed to the back of the store.

"Thanks," she said.

"I got us condoms," I grinned. Ashley didn't answer. "I'll be in the car," I called to her as she disappeared toward the bathroom he'd pointed her off to. I turned to the cashier, "Protect ya 'tings, y'know? I plan on making whoopie, not makin' babies."

He didn't answer, either.

I handed the cashier two twenties. "Thanks," I told the guy, grabbing my change from his outstretched hand. I took my paper bag of crap and headed out the door to the car. Ashley had left her make-up all over the dashboard and I realized she probably needed a mirror or something to see better what she was doing as she put stuff on. I yawned and took my shit out of the paper bag. I popped open the Cheetos and shoved one in my mouth.

Ashley seemed to be taking forever.

When she finally came back out, she got in the car and pulled on her seat belt. I waved the Cheetos bag at her. She shook her head. "You sure? They're fresh. Super crunchy," I bribed her.

Ashley shook her head again.

I reached for the ignition, and turned the key, pushing the bag to the backseat.

Ashley waited until the car was at the curb, blinker on, ready to continue East.

"Nick," she said, her voice quiet.

"What?" I asked.

She looked over at me, her face was pale, and I realized that her eyes were red. "Take me back."

"What?"

Ashley's voice was strangled, "We have to go back to California."

"What? Why? Did you forget something else?"

She shook her head, "Nick, this is wrong," she said.

"Wrong? What's wrong?"

"This. Us. You and me running off to Las Vegas."

I stared at her, dumbfounded. "Ashley, it's us," I said. "We're... meant to be. We're us. How can that be wrong?"

"It just is."

"But --"

"Nick, I can't do this, okay? I can't marry you. I -- I... love... Chris...and I need to go back. I need to marry Chris."

I felt like I'd been gutted, like a wild animal. I couldn't breathe. "Ashley, was that Chris that texted you?" I asked, imagining him somehow knowing, somehow talking her out of marrying me. I wanted to defend myself, I wanted to argue any points he'd made that had made her change her mind. "What did he say to you?"

"Nick, this was a great fantasy, okay? But this doesn't work in the real world." She waved in the space between us, then out at the horizon line. "It doesn't really happen this way."

"It could," I argued.

"Maybe in movies and TV shows and storybooks, but not in real life. In real life we make sensible choices based on facts and evidence from the past. Nick you don't really want to marry me. You want to marry me because you don't want Chris to have me."

"That's shit," I said, "Ashley, I want to marry you because I love you! And you love me, too."
Her eyes flickered. "For a very, very long time I loved you... And it was so easy to make myself think that I could be with you...."

"What the hell are you saying?"

"I'm saying I want to go back."

"You're trying to say you don't love me?"

"Nick."

"Say it!"

"Nick! Just take me back!"

"SAY IT!"

"No! Just take me back. Walk me down the aisle. Give me away. And we'll pretend this never happened between us."

"I can't pretend that," I said thickly.

"Nick-- please--"

"No, I can't pretend you don't love me anymore. I can't pretend that we don't have it all at our finger tips right now, that fate is like a two hour drive East and you're asking me to turn my back on that... on us."

Ashley swiped tears from her eyes.

"I won't give up that easily," I said.

"Nick..." her voice was trembling, fighting to stay level.

The car was silent for a second. Neither of us spoke. "You really don't love me anymore?" I asked, struggling to get the words out. The term broken hearted had never seemed so incredibly literal than at that very moment.

Ashley was quiet.

"I think you're lying," I accused. "You're afraid, and you're lying."

She let out a stream of air. "Just take me back."

"Why are you doing this? Why are you purposely making a mistake?"

"JUST TAKE ME BACK GOD DAMN IT!" she screamed.

So we went back.

Before: It's Always Sunny in Tampa


Ashley

Chris was holding a sign. Chris was holding flowers.

Chris's eyes met mine. Chris's eyes met Nick's.

Chris dropped the flowers. Chris dropped the sign.

I felt like my heart was gonna stop. Nick stopped walking, and I advanced toward Chris alone. I wondered if he saw before, when I was holding Nick's hand. I couldn't tell. His face was a puce color. He looked over my shoulder at Nick.

"Honey!" I said, grabbing Chris's hands into my own, "Aw you surprised me! Hi!" I leaned up on my toes to kiss his mouth, but he was still glaring at Nick. "I'm so glad you didn't listen to me when I said I didn't need a ride. I missed you so much."

"It looks like you already got a ride," Chris mumbled. Still staring at Nick.

I didn't know how to respond, I didn't know how to make things better. Why hadn't I told Chris in the first place where I was going and who I was going with? It seemed so stupid to have kept it a secret from him. Like I was setting myself up for trouble. Now it was obvious, all the reasons why not telling Chris was a bad choice. I felt ashamed. But I didn't know how to tell him what I was feeling, or what I'd done.

"I just bumped into Ashley," Nick piped up.

Chris's eyebrow raised. "What're you doing at an airport?" he demanded.

"Practicing," Nick shrugged. "I gotta tour sometime with the Boys right? And my therapist, he said the only way to get better about flying is to do it so I just took a flight out to Witchata and back."

"Witchata? Kansas?" Chris looked surprised, yet also doubtful, "What the fuck is in Kansas?"

Nick shrugged, "As it turns out, not awhole hell of a lot." He laughed. "Anyways, I was walkin' along, spotted this one here gettin' off her flight and I offered her a ride."

Chris wasn't sure if he believed that or not, I could tell. He looked from Nick to me and back, and I tried to erase the guilt off my face. I wasn't sure if I was more thankful Nick was doing this, or unnerved that he could lie so smoothly and quickly. Chris hesitated. Then he bent down and picked up the flowers from the floor, and the sign and handed the flowers to me. "Welcome home," he said, smiling.

I let out a breath of relief, disguised as me sniffing the flowers, and I wrapped my arms around Chris's waist, pressing my face to his chest. I heard that heart beat of his. I sighed and decided I was more thankful for Nick's questionable talent.

"Well, I can take her from here, Carter, but thanks for your offer. I owe ya one. Wait... we actually already owe you a couple slices of pizza, don't we Nick?" Chris said, "Why don't you drop by our place tonight for dinner?" he asked.

Nick looked uncertain, "Oh I dunno, I got a lotta stuff to do and --"

"I insist," Chris said, smiling.

Nick nodded. "Okay then," he said. "Later Ashley." And just like that, Nick sped off in a powerwalk across the airport, disappearing in the mixture of the crowd before I could even answer him.

Chris wrapped an arm around my shoulder, and led me out of the airport. "How was your trip?" he questioned, looking down at me.

"It was good," I replied.

"I miss Florida," he commented. "It's nice there."

"Yeah," I agreed.

Chris squeezed my elbow, "How was the weather?"

"It's always sunny in Tampa," I answered.

Chris laughed, "It is, isn't it?"




Nick

I had no god damn desire to go anywhere near Chris's place that night. I put off heading over there as long as I could and finally trudged out to my car and drove across town. Ashley's apartment never seemed so boding as it did when I hit the buzzer to be let in. Upstairs, the hallway smelled of the pizza they must've ordered and when they let me in, I found the table was set with paper plates and solo cups and cans of beer. Ashley was grinning and humming and Chris seemed okay, too, so I relaxed quickly, my nerves melting away.

They stayed away, too, until about halfway through the night, when Ashley excused herself to go to the bathroom.

Chris smiled and watched her leave the room, then he wiped his mouth, and he turned to me, still smiling. "So it rained all weekend in Tampa," he said simply.

I had no clue what this was supposed to mean, so I said, "Okay?"

He studied me for a moment. "C'mon Nick, you can stop lying. Ashley wasn't in Tampa this weekend, she was with you. Wasn't she?"

I didn't have a clue how to respond. I felt like a ship putting out the SOS code. Mayday! Mayday!

"Did you sleep with her?" he demanded.

"What? No!" I said. I couldn't quite bring myself to say of course not because I totally would've if she'd made the offer.

Chris laughed. He looked away for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck, then he turned back to me. "Look, I'm not stupid, okay?" he said.

"I didn't say you were stu--"

"I know you're trying to steal her back, Nick," he said levelly.

Okay well that I can't really deny, I thought.

Chris shook his head, "I don't know what the fuck you think you're doing, or why you're doing it, but back the fuck off my girl or I'll have to beat the crap out of you." He said it in a friendly manner, a slight laughter to his voice, his mouth smiling, but his eyes stone cold. "We clear?" he asked.

I nodded.

"As long as we're all on the same page..." he said.

And he finished his words just in time, as Ashley came back in the room and Chris, who had just taken a sip of beer, lowered his can and said, "So how about them Buccs, ey Nick? Think they can go all the way this year? They got some work ahead of'em, huh?"

I nodded.

Ashley smiled as she slid into her seat.

"That's what I like about you Nick," Chris said, patting my back, "You always root for the underdog." He smiled.

"Hey I love the Buccs," Ashley laughed, then grabbed her beer, "To the underdogs."

Chris smirked at me as he lifted his beer enthusiastically and I kinda half raised mine. "To the underdogs," he echoed Ashley as the three cans clicked against one another.

Before: Change of Plans


Nick

Well fine. If Chris wanted to be an asshole about it, then I could be an asshole right back.

I made plans that night with Ashley to go to a concert of a band that she was considering for the wedding reception. Chris smiled, but I could tell he was pissed, and I sent him a look that said, as plainly as I could convey it, Challenge Accepted.

"Sorry I only have two tickets man," I said, sipping my beer, "You know how it goes..."

Chris wrapped his arm around Ashley's shoulders, "It's not a problem," he said levelly. He took a sip of his own beer. Ashley meanwhile bubbled on and on about the concert and how she'd looked up their music online. The whole time Chris and I were having battles with our eyes.

Ashley smiled at me, "I really, really thank you," she said, winking.

Shit she remembered me saying thank you. Of course she did. I'd been hoping she'd been too asleep to hear it. I broke my staring contest with Chris and looked at her, "You're welcome," I said.

When it was time to go, Ashley trilled bye as she carried the plates and cups and empty pizza box to the kitchen. Chris followed me to the apartment door. He gave me The Look as he closed it behind me without saying much of anything to me. I shoved my hands in my pockets out in the hallway and listened to him clicking all Ashley's locks shut. I gave the door the finger. I hoped he was looking out the peephole.

That night, I decided it was time to up my game with Ashley.

I figured the best place to start would be at the concert the next night.

So I started making lists of romantic gestures and ways to bring up the topic of me being in love with her, but everything I wrote seemed really contrived and stupid.

Finally, I called my expert on love and chicks.

"Man, I can't believe you went through an entire fuckin' weekend -- a weekend might I add during which you say that you cuddled her to sleep -- and you didn't manage to tell her that you love her," AJ was practically scolding me, "How the fuck could you do that?" Now he was scolding.

"Yeah Nick," Rochelle, who had, again, honed in on AJ's second line, said, "You should've told her while you were cudling, or outside the jailhouse after seeing her father. In the car, when she was crying."

"You don't tell a chick you love her when she's crying unless you done it before," AJ said, "Or else they think you're only saying it because they're crying."

Rochelle argued, "Not if it's said right."

"I couldn't even say it," I interrupted, "Much less saying it right." I shook my head, "I know me. When I finally do say it I'm gonna be like Jim Carrey saying he wants to make love to a school boy in Dumb & Dumber. It's gonna come out all wrong."

AJ hooted a laugh.

"I don't understand why this is so complicated," Rochelle said, "You walk up to her, and you say it. That's all there is to it."

"Well see... there's Chris," I said.

"Fuck Chris," AJ chanted.

"He's one of my best friends, I can't just throw his feelings in this whole thing out the window. I mean he's being a tool about it, but he really does care about her."

Rochelle's voice was whiney, "But you love her, and she loves you, and she doesn't love Chris. If she hasn't said I love you to him yet then she doesn't, plain and simple."

"She says it's abandonment issues that keep her from saying it," I said.

Rochelle huffed. "Abandonment issues my ass. I'll talk to her. Want me to talk to her? I'll tell her you love her."

"YES!" AJ shouted. "It's perfect. Rochelle, you tell her, then Nick here doesn't ever have to grow a pair, ever. He can remain balless for all eternity."

"I'm not balless," I argued.

"Then use your fucking balls and tell her," AJ said empathetically.

Rochelle laughed.

"You guys aren't helping. What can I do tomorrow?" I asked.

Rochelle broke in before AJ could, "Request the band play her favorite song and dedicate it to you and her, then tell her when they play it. That way, you have an external cue. There's no reason for you to not tell her."

I considered. "That's actually not a bad idea," I mused.

"Of course it isn't," Rochelle said.

"My Monkee's the smartest Monkee ever," AJ cooed.

"My Monkee is the sexiest Monkee ever," Rochelle replied in a gooey voice.

"No myyyy Monkee is the sexiest Monkee," AJ fake argued.

"Okay guys, get a room," I said, hanging up as they continued their sexy Monkee argument.




Ashley

Chris came to bed that night in his boxers and crawled across the bed, leaning over me, staring down at my eyes. "I love you," he said, "I love you more than anyone else could possibly love you. You know that, right?"

I smiled up at him, stroking his arms, "I know."

"I will always love you," he said, "Until the day I die I will always, always love you." He kissed me deeply, and as he kissed me, he slid his hand under my shirt, traveling quickly up to my bra.

I stopped his hand, pulling my mouth away, "Not tonight, Chris," I said.

"Why?" he demanded.

"I'm just not in the mood tonight," I said. Chris frowned and rolled off me. He laid on the mattress beside me, turning his back to me. I sighed. "You don't have to be like that," I said.

"Be like what?" he demanded.

"Be moody because I don't want to have sex," I said.

Chris sighed. But he didn't turn back around immediately, either. When he finally did, he propped his head up on his arm, and he studied me. "Ashley," he said, "Tell me you love me."

I stared at the ceiling.

"Ashley."

"I heard you."

"Tell me."

I shifted uncomfortably, pulling the blankets tight around me. I stared up at the ceiling. This is stupid, I thought. Why can't I just tell him? What's making me hold back? I did love Chris, I did. I just couldn't seem to form the words in my mouth. Then I thought of Nick, of him in the IHOP booth in Kansas, how he'd pointed out that I'd told him before. And I blurted the words out, "I love you."

Chris rolled over so he was facing me, and he put his arms around me. He was smiling. He pulled me closer, and snuggled his face into the side of my hair.

I hugged him back, though a gnawing feeling was taking over me, like I'd just lost a part of myself. I'd felt like this the night I lost my virginity, I thought. Like something irreplacable had been taken and I wasn't entirely positive that was how I'd wanted it to be given away, but I hadn't realized it until it was over and now it was too late to take it back.

Chris kissed the side of my face.

I laid there, feeling miserable.

"So that concert you're going to with Nick," he said quietly.

"Yeah?"

"I fucking love that band," he said.

I looked at him, "You do? I didn't know you knew who they were."

"I love them, they're one of my favorites."

I put my head back down on the pillow.

"I can't believe Nick can't score just one more ticket," Chris said with a heavy sigh. "I'd love to see them in concert."

I wiggled my nose.

"I'm glad you had a good time in Tampa, babe," Chris mumbled against my skin.

A wash of guilt went over me. Here he was, being so gentle and loving and trusting, and I was a liar and saying words to him that weren't his to hear and I felt like a giant bag of crap. So I decided to make it up to him, "Why don't I call Nick in the morning and tell him you're gonna go with him to the show?" I suggested.

Chris sat up, "What? But you're checking them out for the wedding."

"I know, but if you like them that much then...it's really only fair you go...and they should be booked for the wedding, just because you love them," I said.

Chris studied me for a long moment, then a smile spread across his face, "Baby, you're so good to me," he said, dropping back onto the pillow and hugging me tightly.

I still felt like crap.

But at least I was making it up a little bit to him.

I just hoped Nick didn't mind the change of plans.

Before: Triangle


Nick

I was standing outside the club, waiting for Ashley to show up for the concert, trying to spot her vibrant red hair in the crowd. Considering how bright it is, and how tall I am, it's usually relatively easy for me to spot. But I hadn't seen her yet, and it was getting close to the time she'd said she would be there.

My phone vibed, and I pulled it out of my pocket.

"Hey," I said, answering it, "Where you at?" I craned my neck, certain I'd suddenly see the dot of bright red amongst all the black, brown, and blonde.

"Hey Nick," Ashley's voice was apologetic. "I am sooo sorry I didn't call you sooner... I kind of forgot, there was some crazy stuff going on this morning here... but I figured you wouldn't mind anyway..."

"Mind what?"

"Well Chris is gonna come."

"But I only have two tickets," I objected. I'd only bought two, so yep, only two.

"Yeah, silly, he's coming, like instead of me," Ashley said. "Actually he must be held up in traffic or something, he should've been there by now."
"He could be here already and I wouldn't know," I said. But what I thought was that Chris wasn't gonna waste his time actually coming. Hell, he probably hoped that I'd think Ashley was standing me up or something. I had a feeling I knew where he was. "I actually see him," I lied, "I'll talk to you later," I said. I hung up the phone and hailed a cab.

Fifteen minutes later, I slid into the booth across from Chris at the bar where Ashley and I used to hang out regularly. He was sitting there on what used to be my side of the booth, sipping a drink and looking like he'd expected me to come find him. "So she called you," he said.

"Yep."

Chris set his drink down with a sigh, "You know why I did this, don't you?"

"Yes," I said with a nod, "Because you're an asshole."

"I'm the asshole?" he asked, seeming genuinely surprised. "Nick, which one of us is being really inappropriate with whose fiance?" I didn't answer. Because yeah that was true, but she was totally mine first. "Look, Nick," he said, "This triangle between you, me and Ashley... it's gotta stop, man."

"Yes," I agreed, "It does."

Though we were both probably thinking of different resolutions for it.

"Okay then. I'm glad you agree," Chris said. "Look, straight up man, and I won her fair and square. She loves me."

"Oh? Did she tell you that?" I asked.

Chris's face was unexpectedly smug, "Yes," he said, "As a matter of a fact, she did tell me that. She tells me she loves me all the time."

"That's funny," I said, and I leaned forward, taunting him, "Because this weekend when I was laying in bed with her in Kansas, she said that she ain't never said it to you."

The color in Chris's face drained. "You didn't sleep with her," he said.

"Or did I?"

Chris looked extremely unsure.

"Let's face it. If I asked her to, she would."

Chris downed the rest of his drink. His voice had a new, nervous quality to it when he spoke, "Look, I'm gonna level with you."

"Okay."

"I get it. You're Nick Carter. No woman in their right mind is gonna say no to you. You're like a fucking god, okay? I get it. But here's my deal... Women frequently say no to me. And when they say yes, it's because they feel sorry for me, or they wanna get closer to you, or they're so assfuck ugly themselves that they make me look good."

I studied Chris.

"But Ashley's way out of my league and I know this. Ashley's like a goddess. And yet, somehow, beyond all fucking odds and laws of the universe and everything, somehow she still said yes to me." Chris's eyes met mine. "And I love her, I love her like she's the only one on the planet. You could find a girl in like ten minutes, Nick. Any girl in this room is gonna go with you if you ask her to. But me, I have Ashley. She's all I have. She also just happens to be all I want."

I looked down at the table.

"My point is, Nick, please understand why I'm getting so protective. Please understand why this matters so much to me. You've got the world... and I have Ashley."

I swallowed and I looked up at him. "Chris... To me, Ashley is the world."




Ashley

I was asleep on the couch when Chris came home. I struggled to sit up and looked over the back of it at him. He was enveloped in shadows. "Hey," I said groggily, "How was the concert?"

Chris came out to the living room and sat down on the couch across from me. I snuggled into the pillow and stared up at him. He had his hands pitched between his knees like he was praying or something. "It was good," he said.

I smiled, "I'm glad. Did you and Nick have fun?"

Chris nodded.

"I love my two boys hanging out together," I said.

Chris took a deep breath. "Ashley."

"Yes?"

"I know you weren't in Tampa."

I felt my stomach churn.

"I know you were in Kansas with Nick."

I swallowed.

"I'm not mad. I just... I need you to tell me the truth, and I will believe you and I'll never ask this again, okay?"

"Okay..."

"Did you sleep with Nick?"

I hesitated. "I didn't have sex with Nick," I said truthfully.

Chris looked confused.

"I had trouble falling asleep..." I said, "Because I couldn't hear your heart beat, and Nick hugged me so I could hear his. I felt so alone without you beside me, it's like I don't know how to sleep alone anymore. But Chris, Nick and I... it's platonic. Really."

"Would you have had sex with him?" he asked, "If Nick had suggested it?"

I shook my head.

Chris let out a low breath. "Okay."

"Okay."

"Question time over," he declared.

"You don't have to worry about it, Chris," I said, "Even if my answer had been yes, Nick would never suggest it." I laughed.

Chris didn't say anything.

After: A Line Changes Everything


Nick

I parked in front of the hotel and cut the engine. The sun was just up, painting the sky a pale orangey-pink. The car hummed itself to sleep, and Ashley and I sat there in the same silence that we'd driven back to Los Angeles in from the Nevada stateline. I could hear her breathing over there in the passenger seat. I let my hands slide off the steering wheel.

There was something very final about the moment.

I wanted to say something wonderful, something that would cancel out whatever Chris had told her on the text. I wanded to spout poetry. But I couldn't think of anything to say, and even if i had, my mouth felt like sandpaper and I probably couldn't have spoken anyway.

Ashley didn't say anything either.

Probably twenty minutes passed, us just sitting there in silence in the car. Then she turned and grabbed the dress off the garment hook in the back seat, pulled it up front, hugging it to her chest, and she slid her wrist through the strap on her make-up bag.

"Wait," I said as her hand hovered over the handle of the door.

She hesitated, then lowered her hand from the door.

"Five years from now," I said quietly, "Are you going to regret getting out of this car?"

Ashley let the words sink in. She squeezed her eyes shut. "I'll regret it five minutes from now," she said.

"Then don't get out," I answered.

"I have to," she replied.

My throat felt raw. "Why?"

"Because I do," she answered. "Because it's the right thing to do, because there's things I want that you don't."

"I want you, Ashley," I said, "And anything you want...I meant it when I said if it was in my grasp I'd give it to you. You name it."

She shook her head, "You can't give me what I want."

"But Chris can?" I snorted.

Ashley took a deep breath, "Chris is the only one who can."

"I can give you anything he can give you," I said.

She shook her head. "Someday you'll understand." She grabbed the handle of the door and pushed it open.

I looked away. I couldn't stand to watch her go. "Good bye, Ashley," I said quietly.

She paused, "Don't say it like that... like we'll never see each other again..."

"I don't know if I can take it," I said, "Seeing you married to him."

Ashley's eyes filled with tears. "Don't make me lose you, please, Nick."

"Ashley, you can't have us both."

She stared at me, her eyes threatening to overflow, her lower lip trembling. "Nick, you're my best friend, please don't unlove me."

"You unloved me first," I said.

The tears fell across Ashley's cheeks, staining them, smearing the make up she'd applied. "I'm sorry," she climbed out of the car and ran across the parking lot, clutching her dress and her make-up bag.

I stayed in the car.

And eventually I drove away.




Ashley

I couldn't breathe. I swear to God I couldn't. I got into my hotel room and dropped my dress and make up and I choked and gasped for air. I slammed into the bathroom sink and turned on the faucet and splashed my face with the coldest water the pipes would produce, and I was still hyperventilating, my hands shaking, my throat making these horrible seal-like noises.

I felt like I'd hit every emotion on the roller coaster in the past few hours. I'd ben shocked to find out that Nick loved me, then granted that time to be with him, hit the high of running to Vegas, only to be crashed and burning hours later, choking and crying in the hotel bathroom.

This must've been what it was like for Nick to crash in that airplane, I thought.

There was a knock on my hotel room door, so I struggled to upright myself, and walked carefully to the front door, gingerly stepping over my gown and make up bag where they'd landed on the floor. I peeked through the peephole. Chris's mother, Karen, was outside, smiling up at the door. I took a couple steps back, drew a deep breath, and swiped my eyes, and opened the door, "Hey," I said.

Karen looked surprised to see me looking so crappy. "Ashley, are you okay?" she asked.

I nodded, "It's been a long night, that's all."

She swept into the room, saw my gown and bag on the floor, eyed me, then scooped them up and put them on the bed. She walked further into the room, then turned to look back at me. "You slept in your dress?"

I looked down. I was in the purple dress from the dinner party, the one I'd worn on Nick's date. "Yeah, I guess I did," I said.

"What happened last night? You two disappeared."

It took me a moment to realize she meant me and Chris had disappeared from the dinner, not that Nick and I had disappeared from the hotel. It occurred to me suddenly that nobody was aware we'd even left. Somehow, the entire night was a secret between Nick and I.

I mean that's what I'd intended originally, but... somehow, now that I was back, given everything that had happened in the last few hours... that seemed a tragic loss.

"We just...had some...things to do..." I answered.

Karen nodded as though she knew what I meant. I wasn't even sure what I meant. It occured to me she probably thought I was speaking code for sex.

"Anyways..." I mumbled, feeling stupid.

Karen sat on the desk chair across the room. "Are you going to the church like that or are you going to at least shower?" she asked pointedly.

"Oh. Right, yeah, I'll be right out."

I went into the bathroom and closed the door, leaning against it and sliding to the floor. I closed my eyes.

Then I remembered Chris's text, and I got up and opened the suitcase I had rolled into the bathroom the day before. I unzipped it and pulled out the Walgreens bag I'd shoved to the very bottom, under all the clothes and everything - the bag that I'd also shoved out of my mind quite successfully. Until Chris had mentioned it.

I don't know how he knew it was there anyway.

I made a mental note to ask him how he knew.

I opened the bag, pulled out the pink box, and stared down at it. I took a deep breath because even without using it, I knew what the results would be. I ripped open the box top and pulled out the stick and the instructions. I peed on it, left it on the sink, and climbed into the shower, praying that by the time I got out the answer would be different than I was expecting, there would be one line instead of two, and I could call Nick and tell him to come back for me, tell him what had changed my mind, pray he understood, and then we could get back in the car and go to Vegas for real.

It's funny how one line changes everything.

Before: Aren't I Enough?


Ashley

After the trip to Kansas, I didn't see Nick again for awhile because it seemed like I always had plans with Chris. Which was amazing. Chris had been so busy over the summer working that I'd hardly seen him at all, and he'd been so tired from work he'd been uninterested in wedding plans, but after the trip to Kansas he became... I don't know... extremely enthusiastic. He wanted to know everything I was planning for the wedding, wanted to be involved in making choices and going places to look at churches and reception halls.

"You don't have to go," I told him, laughing when I told him I wanted to go look at a reception hall upstate on the same day as the World Series. "Nick said he doesn't care about the game, so he can go with me."

"No, I want to go," Chris said, jumping up and switching off the TV set. "I want to see the hall."

We were constantly going places together, or he'd come home with food and a new movie and we'd cuddle and spend the night in. And he was being so impossibly sweet, helping me do the dishes and clean the apartment, and even rubbing my feet when I came home from a long day at work. He always wanted to talk and tell me about his day and brought me home flowers for no apparent reason.

At lunch time, I got sweet little messages on my phone.

Just saying hi and I love you.

It wasn't like I wasn't trying to make plans with Nick. I mean I was. They just never seemed to work out. Like once I was planning to go to Nick's to watch the season opener for the Buccs - he has a party every year - and I was making jalopeno puffs to bring and Chris came home with dinner reservations and a boquet of roses. Another time, Nick was supposed to meet me for lunch and Chris called me five minutes into the date saying he was sick and needed a ride home from the FedEx warehouse because he'd taken NyQuil and was sure he'd get in a car wreck if he did.

It was like fate was against me seeing him.

Which honestly was secretly okay with me. For some reason, I felt guilty making plans with Nick because I felt like I was betraying Chris again. And also I knew if I was with Nick too long that he'd ask about how I was doing, that he'd bring up my father, and I didn't want to talk about him.

I couldn't get the haunting image of my father out of my mind.

It was during the last week of November, when I got a text from Nick's sister Angel, inviting me to her and Aaron's birthday party downtown, that I realized it'd been almost three months since I'd seen Nick for longer than fifteen minutes.

"Wow," I murmured as the thought washed over me.

"What?" Chris looked up from the video game he was playing.

"I just got a text from Nick's sister," I said.

Chris's face corkscrewed, "The dead one?"

I rolled my eyes, "Yes, she texted me from Beyond."

"I dunno maybe it was delayed. Verizon's crap."

"By two years?"

Chris made a face, "Really? It's been two years?"

"Since Leslie died? Almost. No, this is from Angel."

"She's kind of a bitch," he muttered. This opinion was one that had been formed a long time ago. See, Chris had tried to get with Angel the night she and Aaron turned eighteen. This was something that Nick did not know. I only knew because I'd been in the room when it happened. Chris had been high, and walked up to her like he was royalty, and started trying to slobber all over her. Angel had slapped him so hard his face had literally been branded by her hand and the mark took a couple days to fade off. I don't think Chris knew I was there when it happened.

"Well she wants us to go to her birthday party. Can you believe her and Aaron are going to be 26? Jesus... I remember them being like two. Anyway's, it's the seventh, so you need to request that night off."

Chris raised an eyebrow. "You don't seriously want to go do you?"

"Well... yeah, I do actually," I said. "I haven't seen Nick since like September, and I'm sure he'll be there. It'd be nice to see him."

Chris sighed, "I guess."

"Nick's like your best friend," I said, "You should miss him, too. I don't know why we don't hang out with him more, I mean he's both our friend, it makes sense."

"I just like being with you is all," Chris answered.

It occurred to me that we hadn't really been out with anyone besides each other in a really long time. I tried to think of the last person that was over our place, and the only one I could think of was Chris's mother, Karen, who had come to help us get Chris's suit fitted for the wedding the week before. She'd stayed overnight and Chris had made a huge production of being babied by mommy the whole time she was there.

"We should have him over more often," I said.

Chris put the controller for the game down on the coffee table and came over to the chair I was sitting in. He put the book I'd been reading before Angel texted onto the table beside me. "Aren't I enough for you?" he asked.

"You're a goofball," I laughed. I reached for my book and Chris caught my hand and stared into my eyes, waiting for a response. I smiled, "Of course you're enough for me."

Chris kissed me so hard I felt like he was trying to flatten me with his mouth. I kissed him back awkwardly. He scooped me up and carried me off to our bedroom.




Nick

On December 7th, I made my annual obligatory call to Angel for her birthday. I hadn't really talked to anyone in my family all year. They were mad that I'd missed the ceremony at Niagra Falls for Leslie. It's not like I didn't have an excellent excuse, but... that's just how things are in my family. Short of being dead myself - which actually I was, but that's okay - they didn't think it was excuse enough. So we'd had a huge falling out, which was about typical for us, and I hadn't talked to anyone since. So this year the call to Angel was extra awkward.

And to think afterwards I had to have a second one just like it with Aaron.

When Angel picked up, there was a ton of noise in the background. It sounded like she was at one of the crazy ass slumber parties BJ used to throw when she was thirteen. The ones I used to spy through the heating vent in my bedroom floor, peeking down into her bedroom, hoping for one of the girls to take off their bras.

"Hello?" she practically shouted into the phone over the noise level.

"Hey! Happy Birthday!" I called into the phone.

"Nick?" Angel sounded surprised. "Aren't you coming tonight?"

"Tonight?"

"To the club?"

"What club?"

"To our party! Didn't Aaron call you?"

"No."

"Fuck! What a bastard." It was still weird hearing Angel curse. She was my little sister. She should be saying things like mama, dada, pony and gimme, not bastard or fuck.

"Was he supposed to call me?" I asked.

"Yes!" she sighed, "He was supposed to invite you to the party. We're having a party downtown tonight. I'll text you the deets. You have to come."

I looked around the house. It was kind of a mess, cluttered with half signed contracts and album artwork proofs and everything. The Backstreet Boys album was going to be released the beginning of February. I'd managed to put off this paperwork as far as I could, managed to obliterate our entire anniversary year, managed to piss Kevin off to the high heavens, and I'd spent the day trying to catch up on everything to make February a reality. "I'm kind of... busy," I answered.

Besides, I couldn't picture being in a club with a ton of Aaron and Angel's friends for the whole night. I actually couldn't picture being in a club, period. There was a time, before the crash, that I spent every night out, sure, but now a club just sounded like more work than it was worth. Particularly since there was only one woman I was interested in these days and there was no way in hell she'd be there.

"I invited Dogface," Angel said.

"Ashley?" I asked.

Angel laughed, "Since when do you call her Ashley?"

"I stopped calling her Dogface when I --" I paused, "After the crash."

"Oh," Angel said. "Anyways, she said she's coming."

"Ashley's gonna be there?"

"Yes," Angel replied.

"When does it start again?"

"Like I said, I'll text you the details. I'll see you tonight!"

"Bye."

I looked at all the paperwork I was buried under. Well, hell. One more night wasn't gonna hurt anything right?

Before: Bring it, Bitch


Ashley

It took a lot of begging to get Chris to agree to go to the Carter twins' party. A lot of begging, sex, and the promise that we could spend Christmas at his mother's house. But I really wanted to see Nick, so anything Chris had asked for would've been worth it. I knew if Angel had invited me that she'd invited Nick, too.

The night of the party, I was getting ready, pulling on one of my favorite dresses - it was red, almost the same shade as my hair, with little white dots all over it - and I was having issues with the zipper, which is something that never happened before. "Jesus," I said, turning to see my back in the mirror, "This is tight, I wonder if the dry cleaner shrunk it somehow." I waved my arms, trying to get the zipper.

Chris didn't even look up from the mirror he was using to gel his hair up. He was trying to get it to stand up like Nick's and so far all it was doing was drooping sadly. He looked more like Squiggy than Nick Carter. "Or maybe you're getting fat," he said pointedly.

I caught the zipper pull and yanked on it, but nothing happened. "I think it shrunk," I said.

"I dunno," Chris said, "You've been eating a lot of take-out."

"Well you bring it home, what am I supposed to do?" I snapped.

"Don't go getting pissed off at me," Chris retorted. He turned away, his hair swooping lamely to one side, not even slightly like Nick's hair, "It's not my fault you eat all of it." He stepped around me. "Inhale."

I sucked in my breath.

Chris pulled the zipper up quickly. I felt like the last dregs of a tooth paste tube being squeezed out. "Shit," I gasped, my hand on my abdomen. My back was forced straight, my lungs compressed, my boobs squeezed so tight in the fabric that they looked like they were about to pop out. "I look like Pamela Anderson," I complained.

"Why are you always bitching about how you look?" Chris demanded, "Nobody gives a shit what you look like. I don't care if you're fat or skinny or purple, I still love you."

I wasn't sure if it was a compliment I should say aww over, or an insult I should get mad about. I let it go.

"How long do we gotta stay at this shindig for anyways tonight?" Chris asked.

"We aren't even there yet and you're already asking to leave?" I asked. "You know you don't have to go with me, I'm perfectly capable of going by myself."

"To a club?" Chris asked.

"Yes to a club," I answered. "I've been to many a club alone, Chris." I tried to reach for my purse and found bending down wasn't really an option for me without my boobs falling out of the dress. I pushed them back in. Chris was staring at me.

"I'm not sure how long I can go with your breasts looking like that before I have to throw you down and fuck you," he commented.

"Keep it in your trousers," I said.

I put on the vial of beach sand on a necklace that Nick had given me the year before for Christmas when we'd spent it together at the airport. Even if it said Miami across it, the necklace was still one of my favorites.

"Why do you gotta wear that piece of crap?" Chris asked moodily when he saw I'd put it on. "I've bought you better jewelry than that."

"I like this one," I answered.

Chris made a face. "It's plastic, and it probably cost like three dollars."

"It doesn't matter what it cost, I like it." I raised my eyebrow, "Why are you so pissy?"

"I told you, I don't wanna go tonight," he answered.

"And I told you that you don't have to go," I replied. "I can go by myself, I'm not an invalid."

Chris shook his head, "I don't want you going alone to the club."

I rolled my eyes.

"Don't roll your eyes at me," he snapped. "I'm just trying to protect you and keep you safe. I just wanna know you're okay. People are sketchy out there and I don't trust them. There's a lot of douche bags in clubs."

"Well Nick's gonna be there," I said, "Do you seriously think he's gonna let anything happen to me?"

Chris grabbed his keys, "Let's go already."




Nick

I spotted Ashley across the club, leaning against the bar with Chris. Her hair was caught in a spotlight that was roaming across the floor. I made my way through all of Angel and Aaron's friends, who were crowding the dance floor. It occured to me that a lot of Angel's friends were models, and I thought how much I would've liked this party a year ago. Now, I was too focused on one girl in particular to see any of the others.

Chris was bitching, loudly, to the bar tender about what exactly is expected in a scotch neat. Ashley looked embarassed and was looking around the room, trying to focus on anything except Chris yelling at the bar tender. She spotted me and her face lit up with a smile. She came at me, wrapping her arms around me. Her boobs looked fucking huge. Way bigger than they usually did in that dress. I swallowed back a moan as they pressed against my chest in her hug. My pants were like instantly tighter.

Chris turned around just as I put my arms around her, and I saw him look on, frowning in disapproval, so I hugged her closer, and rubbed her back, making sure he saw me touch her bare skin.

I looked at him and mouthed, boobs -- wow!

Chris's frown turned into a complete scowl. The bar tender held out his drink and he took it so roughly from the bar tender's hand that some of it splashed out.

"Hey," I said to Ashley when she pulled back, "I really missed you. I feel like it's been forever."

"I know!" she cried, "I don't know why I haven't seen you, it's been crazy. I've been doing all these wedding plans and stuff, but I figure they might bore you and also Chris has been super interested in the wedding, so we've been doing a lot of it together..."

"Well of course he's interested," I said. I smiled sarcastically at Chris. He smiled sarcastically right back.

"Yeah, it's a lot of fun," Chris said. He stepped up and switched hands he was holding his drink in, wrapping his arm over Ashley's shoulder and putting her hand on her boob. She swatted it away, but he put it right back. She glowered up at him for a second, but he didn't move it and she didn't push it away. I raised my eyebrow. "It's all apart of getting married, you know, the whole package." He sipped his drink, hand still on Ashley's chest. "Wherever the little lady wants me to go, I go."

"Like a bitch," I said.

Chris scowled.

Ashley laughed.

"At least I know I'm gonna have some amazing sex tonight," Chris bragged.

Ashley looked uncomfortable. I waved the bar tender over and ordered a drink, putting a twenty in the tip jar to make up for Chris's douche-baggery. "Nick doesn't wanna know about our sex life, Chris, Jesus..." Ashley muttered, her face all red.

"It's okay, Ashley," I said, "I'm used to Chris bragging about sex. It's probably the only way he can make it last longer."

Chris choked on a mouthful of his scotch so hard that I'm pretty sure it came out of his nose. It sprayed at anyrate. Ashley jumped back, "Christopher! You got that all in my hair, Jesus!" She sighed in frustration, "And all over my dress. I'll be right back." She stormed off, probably to the ladies room to clean it up.

I looked at Chris.

He looked at me.

The bar tender returned with my drink. "Thank you very much, you're doing a phenomenal job," I said. "Could I get a cup of club soda also?" I requested. The bar tender nodded, quickly filled a cup and handed it to me. I grabbed a couple napkins. "Now excuse me," I said, "I have to go help your -er- fiance to get some scotch off her boobs."

"I ain't afraid to kick your fucking ass Carter," Chris growled.

I turned and headed the direction Ashley had gone. "Bring it, bitch," I called over my shoulder.

Before: We Regret to Inform You


Nick

"DID YOU KICK HIS ASS?!" Rochelle's voice was desperate. I didn't even know she was on the line - though why I didn't expect it at this point is beyond me - until she'd yelled.

"No," I answered. "I just brought the club soda to Ashley and that was it really."

"Fuck that's anticlimatic," AJ muttered.

"Sorry I'm not as exciting as you'd like," I replied.

Rochelle broke in again, "Nick you cannot put this off any longer. Chris sounds like he's getting really controlling of her."

"Yeah dude you gotta hit that before it's got a ring on it," AJ intoned.

"I've been trying to tell her for almost an entire year now," I said, "It's harder than it sounds! I don't wanna do it wrong and come off stupid..."

Rochelle cried out, "How do you wanna do it? Running down the center of the aisle screaming marry me instead Ashley?"

"Like that Taylor Swift song," AJ said.

"Trust me, you don't wanna pull that shit, it's not attractive," Rochelle said.

AJ started singing, "I am not the kinda girl who should be rudely barging in on a white veil occassion but..."

"You need to tell her like now. They're getting married in less than a month, Nick!"

"I'm aware," I replied.

"Yooou are not the kinda boooyyy who should be marrying the wrooong giiiirrrl..."
"Well seriously."

AJ was still singing.

There was a knock at my door and I got up from the couch and, carrying the phone with me, headed out to answer it. "It's just really hard. She's so pretty. I look at her and my tongue turns to dust or something."

"You need to try harder," Rochelle said, and she launched into telling me hints and tips, but I was opening the door and didn't hear her. Ashley was on the other side, and she was in tears.

"I gotta go," I said, and without waiting for Rochelle to answer or AJ to stop singing, I hung up the phone and shoved it into my pocket. "Ashley," I said. I looked around, there was no cabs, no cars, she'd come here on foot. She was dressed in her exercise clothes, I guessed she'd gone running. I ushered her into the house, "What's wrong?"

"He's dead," she sobbed.

"What? Who? What's wrong?"

Ashley shoved an envelope into my hand. It was all crunched up, she must've had it balled in her fist all the way over here. It was that weird orangey color and it was addressed to her with a stamped-on seal from the Witchata State Prison. "Your father?" I asked, pulling out the letter.

"He killed himself," she sobbed.

I stared down at the words on the page. Regret to inform you.... suicide....

"Holy fuck," I breathed.




Ashley

I'd gotten the letter while Chris was at work and I hadn't really noticed it at first. I'd tossed it and the rest of the mail onto the table, I'd done a load of laundry and watched You Got Mail on cable. Then I'd looked through the mail, paid a couple bills, and come across it. And there it was, in black and white, final, unerasable knowledge that my father, who I'd only just found, had killed himself.

Any chance I had once had of forgiving him, of ever being a part of his life or vice versa, it was all gone in just two short paragraphs and the barely legible signature of some officer.

I'd run all the way to Nick's. My feet were killing me. I could barely breathe. Nick sat me down in his kitchen at the breakfast bar and got me a glass of water. He pushed it across the table to me, and put the Brita pitcher from his fridge next to it so I could refill.

I don't know why it was striking me so hard. I felt dizzy and utterly alone. More alone than I'd felt in years and years and years, since I was a little kid, and I realized how much it hurt that Nick hadn't been around a lot in the last three months. It was like there was an organ missing from my body, like my heart or stomach or esophogus or kidneys were ripped out. I looked at Nick, "Don't you ever dare die," I said.

"I won't," he answered.

But even as he said it I knew he couldn't keep the promise.

He sat down next to me. "I'm sorry," he said. The letter lay there on the counter where he'd put it when he got the pitcher out of the fridge. I stared at it.

"I don't know why it hurts so much that he's dead," I said honestly, voicing a thought I'd had a few times during my run across the city to Nick's house, one that I felt profoundly guilty for having, "It's not like he was a part of my life. I didn't even know him a year ago. Didn't even know if he existed."

Nick shrugged, "It hurts when you lose family, whether you're close or not."

I leaned over and he wrapped his arm around me and I closed my eyes, "I can't believe it."

"I'm sorry," he repeated.

I closed my eyes. "I know he was in jail, I know he was horrible and that it wasn't happening, but I still ...I thought he would... I don't know. I guess I was still imagining that some miracle would happen, that he'd be able to walk me down the aisle... and I know that's ridiculous," I couldn't explain what I was feeling.

"It's okay," Nick said thickly.

"I don't have anybody to walk me down the aisle," I sobbed.

Nick was quiet for a long moment. "I'll walk you," he said.

I looked up at him.

"I mean, I'm already your maid of honor, I might as well walk you down the aisle..."

"You'd do that for me?" I asked.

He nodded.

I felt fuzzy inside, I felt loved. It was a different kind of love than what I felt when Chris said he loved me. It was much deeper or something, much warmer.

"Thank you, Nick," I said thickly.

He nodded.

I swiped the tears at my eyes. I took a wobbly breath. "I swear if I ever have a kid I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure that she -- or he if I have a boy -- will have her father to walk her down the aisle, because man this sucks so bad..." I sniffed. "Kids deserve better than broken families, or no families at all."

"I know," Nick said.

"I wish my life on no one," I said.

Nick hugged me. "I don't think you've had all that horrible a life. I mean..." he grinned, "You've had me for almost 27 years... right?"

"You think that's a good thing?" I joked.

Nick grinned. "Hey lady there's some that would kill to switch with you if you're tired of me."

I squeezed my arms around him. "No," I answered, "I like it right here."

He rubbed my arm, "I like you right there, too," he answered.

After: I Won't Give Up


Nick

I drove around for what felt like forever. Aimless, restless, my stomach feeling gutted. The world felt sort of... empty... and pointless... I found myself sitting at the ocean on the hood of the car, staring out at the waves as they crashed on the shore and slipped away. Today, even the ocean couldn't make me feel any better.

I got back in the car after a long time of sitting there, thinking and staring out at the horizon line, having decided to go back home, and my eyes caught something in the backseat. I turned around and there was Ashley's veil, laying across the leather. My throat constricted, and I pictured her in her dress, holding her flowers, ready to walk down the aisle with no veil and no one to walk her.

I picked the veil up, running my hands over the soft material.

Twenty-six years ago I met a girl. And she was the prettiest thing I ever saw and I never understood that or believed it until eleven and a half months ago. She was carefree and she was loving and she gave the whole world 110% of herself, even when the cause didn't entirely earn it. She was beaten down by circumstances, she was marginalized by society, and she somehow still turned out pretty amazing. She'd worked hard on everything she put her mind to, she'd struggled through opportunities. She'd created for herself a better life than most people would ever have believed was possible for her. She was like magic, like wind through the leaves making music when you least expect it on a hot summer day.

And she deserved better than me running away.

I turned on my engine and I drove to the church. It was late enough that they'd be there instead of the hotel. My palms were sweating as I parked my car and, carrying her veil and my suit over one arm, I walked up the stairs, and through the dark maroon double doors, into the house of God. I looked around. The pews were decorated with silk sashes and flowers and the pictures we'd chosen together months and months ago were displayed on a large placard by the door. Welcome to the wedding ceremony of Christopher and Ashley it read, their smiling faces grinning back in blown-up images from a photo booth taken the first couple weeks they were dating. A few people were already sitting inside. I saw Chris's mother, heading down some stairs to the basement of the church, and I followed her.

The basement was obviously where Sunday School went down. There was a flannelgraph Noah's ark hanging on the wall, one of the two-by-two giraffes wasn't sticking like he should and was hanging down from the wall. A couple balls of dried out playdough were stuck to the floor. Ashley was standing across the room in front of a mirror that had been leaned against the wall. She was wearing the wedding dress, the back of it undone, and Chris's mother was standing behind her, working on closing up the back with safety pins.

Ashley had her headphones on, her eyes closed.

I walked over, coming up behind Karen, and she jumped when I tapped her shoulder. Ashley was oblivious I was there. "Can I talk to her a second alone?" I asked.

Karen hesitated.

"Please."

"Okay. But I'll only be gone for five minutes. No funny business. My son told me about you." She eyed me, and moved away, up the stairs. I wondered what Chris had told her.

Ashley turned to see why Karen had stopped working on her dress, and she saw me, pulled the headphones out of her ears, and stared at me, dumbfounded. "You came back," she said quietly.

I held up the veil, "You left this," I said, "In my car."

Ashley took the veil. Her hands shook.

"Plus, I promised you I'd be here to walk you down the aisle, didn't I?"

Ashley's eyes filled with tears, "You don't have to," she said.

I shook my head, "A promise is a promise."

"But --"

"No buts," I replied.

Ashley took a deep breath. She put the veil down on a chair she was standing beside. She stared down at the carpet for a long moment. "I really am sorry, Nick," she said quietly.

"I'm sorry, too," I answered.

She looked up at me. "You are my soulmate."

I broke our eye contact, looking at the carpet now myself. "Don't tell me that," I said.

"You need to know."

"Not if you aren't going to pick me, I don't." I said.

Ashley's voice creaked. "I can't pick you, Nick."

"I waited too long."

"You waited too long."

I swallowed the searing pain in my throat. I felt tears burning the edges of my eyes. "You didn't give me my full twelve hours," I accused thickly.

Ashley held out her hand.

I took it, drawing her close. The bodice of her dress pressed against my chest, my hand rested perfectly against her back. She rested her head against me. I breathed deeply her smell, committed to memory the feeling of her touch. "I won't give up on us," I whisper-sang, "Even if the skies get dark... I'm giving you all my love... I'm still looking up... Cause even the stars they burn... some even fall to the earth... and we've got a lot to learn... but God knows we're worth it... no, I won' give up..."

I felt Ashley's shoulders shaking under my touch.

I held her out at arm's length and looked at her, stared right into her tear-filled, blood-shot eyes. "I'll see you upstairs," I said. I let go and I turned and started up the stairs. I could hear Ashley crying behind me, but I didn't dare to turn back. I passed Karen on the steps. "Don't worry," I said, "She's still Chris's."

Karen glowered at me as I continued on up the steps.




Ashley

"What did he want?" Karen asked.

I shook my head and turned so she could finish closing the back of dress around me. "Just to talk," I choked the words out.

"Why are you crying?" she asked.

"I'm just tired," I lied.

I ran my hands along the skirt's fabric. I tried to imagine Nick walking me down the aisle, tried to picture him handing my hand to Chris... and I couldn't.

It hurt too much.

"I can't believe you didn't have this fitted," she complained.

I didn't reply.

I hadn't needed it fitted when I purchased it. It had fit like a dream.

If it fit, I thought, I wouldn't be wearing it in this church. I'd be wearing it in Las Vegas. I'd be wearing it for Nick, not for Chris. If it fit, there would have only been one damn line on that pregnancy test upstairs, not two. If it fit, the first time that I had a life beginning in me I would have been happy, and it would've been Nick's.

But it didn't fit.
I was wearing it in the church basement.

I was wearing it for Chris.

And there were two pink lines.

Karen got the last of the pins through the back of the fabric. I could feel them cutting into my skin all up my back as the fabric pulled against them. She stepped back, "You're lucky you're wearing a veil today," shse said, then turned and started collecting the curling iron and the various other tools we needed to set my hair and make up.

I wouldn't have had a veil if it wasn't for Nick bringing it back, I thought.

Where would I be without Nick in my life?

Where was I gonna end up without him?

I touched my stomach, looking down at my hand against the pale white fabric.

Before: The Invitation


Ashley

Just like that, it was already a week before the wedding. We had Christmas at Chris's mother's house and all we did was talk abou wedding plans, and my stomach was getting more and more nervous. I went out running everyday we were at Karen's, jogging further than I ever pressed myself to go in Los Angeles. Once so far that Chris had to come pick me up almost five miles away because I was to exhausted to run back.

Christmas morning, Karen gave me a beautiful necklace to wear at the wedding that had been worn at all the weddings in her family and handed down generations. She swept my hair back and attached the chain behind my neck, a tear drop shaped diamond rested against my skin. She smiled, "Now you're a part of the family," she said brightly.

Chris grinned and wrapped an arm around me. "Only one more week before you're officially mine," he said.

I smiled on the outside, though inside something was building, some sort of screaming sensation.

That night I threw up for a good half an hour until my face broke out in a sweat and my knees ached from kneeling in front of the toilet. It wasn't the first time I'd yacked thanks to my nerves. I felt sick almost constantly, and a little lightheaded, too. I went back to bed feeling weak and my stomach aching like I had cramps or something but I didn't have my ---

I paused. Laying in the dark, my eyebrows cinched together.

I didn't have my period. It was after Christmas and I hadn't had it yet. I was really regular, there was no reason why I shouldn't have had it in the middle of the month. Unless...

My heart raced.

No way.

I touched my stomach. I thought about the way I'd been sick, about the missing period, about the dress that had been just a little too tight.

I took a deep breath.

The next day when Chris and I were home in Los Angeles again, I decided I needed to know the answer now, rather than later. When I went for my run, I stopped at Walgreens and I got a pregnancy test. The cashier looked at me and I felt like she was judging me. I turned red, paid quickly, and rushed out of the store with my purchase tucked into my coat. When I got home, I made sure Chris wasn't there and I rushed up stairs and took the box out of the bag and stood in the bathroom staring at it.

I was terrified.

I heard Chris's keys in the lock. I rushed into the bedroom, looking for a place to hide the box. I shoved it back into it's Walgreens back and plunged it into my suitcase, which was still out from our trip to Karen's.

"Hey honey," Chris called from the dining room as I was shoving my suitcase into the closet, trying to bury the evidence, "I'm home... Where are you?"

"In here," I yelled. The suitcase was refusing to go up on the shelf. Chris stepped into the room, saw me struggling with it, and came over, nimbly pushing it up. I heard the bag and box slide and hit the front wall of it as he pushed it up there and my face turned red.

"You forget something in there?" he laughed, about to take it back down.

"No," I answered quickly, "I left -uh- your wedding present in there," I said quickly. "So I wouldn't forget it when we went to the vineyard next week." I smiled. "So no peeking."

"Cross my heart," Chris replied.

I didn't want to tell Chris until I knew. I don't know why, I felt like it was mine to know. My secret with the universe. A secret I didn't want to know.




Nick

I called Ashley everyday between Angel and Aaron's birthday party and Christmas, trying to catch her with free time. But everything I came up with to suggest we do, she couldn't because Chris was there or Chris had made plans or Chris had done something to block me off. The son of a bitch was doing a ridiculously good job of keeping me away from Ashley, and I hated it. I even tried just going over there once, but she must've been out when I got there because nobody answered the door when I hit the buzzer.

Christmas was just me at home with a couple cartons of Chinese food. I lay on my couch and stared at the ceiling, the TV running Christmas movies on one of the channels for background noise, but my mind spinning over the last year. I couldn't believe it was only 365 days before that I'd laid across chairs at the Miami airport a mere four feet away from Ashley.

Then I heard Jimmy Stewert's voice and I looked over. It's A Wonderful Life was on TV. I sat up and turned the volume up. I grabbed the phone and I dialed Ashley's number.

"Hello, you've reached Ashley Jackson, I'm unable to answer the phone right now, but leave your name and number and I'll call you back as soon as I can."

Beep.

"Hey, it's me. I was just calling because your stupid movie's on and I'm gonna actually sit through it this year... just for you. Maybe I'll actually like it this year." I laughed. "Call me when you get this. I miss you." I hung up the phone and watched the movie.

I had hoped Ashley would answer and we'd talk through the movie. Maybe she'd even pull it up on her own TV and we could watch it together, apart. But she never called back.

By the end, I'd decided that I understood why Ashley liked the movie so much. It was about giving second chances and enduring integrity.

I dreamed that night that Ashley had hair like Donna Reed, and I wore a suit like Jimmy Stewert. AJ wore a nightgown like Clarence and told me I had to tell her I loved her before the night was over or Chris, who was in a wheel chair and trying to take over the entire city, would take Ashley as well.

I woke up the next morning, my phone vibrating against my face. It was almost eleven. I blinked my eyes open and sat up. It was Chris's number. I answered it, "Hello?"

"Hey Nick, it's Chris."

He sounded strangely amicable. I wondered what the catch was. "Hey Chris," I said slowly.

"I've been thinking, you should come to my bachelor party," he said cheerfully.

I rubbed my neck. Had I fallen into some sort of time warp? Was I forgetting a moment that Chris and I had interacted and made up since my bring it bitch shout at the club? Was I still dreaming? Was this Bedford Falls?

"Nick?"

"I - yes - sure," I answered, my mind still reeling through questions.

"Okay awesome. We're going to this strip club downtown for it. Maybe we can score you a lap dance or something," Chris laughed.

"When is it?" I asked. The last thing I really wanted to do was go to a strip club, but whatever.

"Thursday night. Just meet us up at the apartment, we'll head out around seven."

I thought about it a moment. Then it made sense why Chris was inviting me to this thing. Thursday night was Ashley's bachelorette party. Chris was heading me off before Ashley could invite me to her party.

"I can't commit just yet," I said, "But I'll let you know when I know."

Chris was quiet a moment. "She's not going to ask you."

"What?" I said.

"Ashley," he replied, "She's not going to ask you to go to hers."

"You don't know that."

"Yes I do."

"How?"

"Because I'm gonna tell her you already said you'd come to mine. Because you're going to."

I was quiet a moment.

"Nick, if you wanna be a part of Ashley's life in the future, I suggest you start playing according to my rules or you're going to lose her completely."

I raised my eyebrow, "Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"I was hoping I heard you wrong," I replied.

Chris laughed, "Just come to my bachelor party, Nick, and we'll get it all worked out."

"Okay."

"Atta boy, Carter. See you Thursday." He hung up the phone.

I sat in silence for a moment, staring at the phone, thinking about everything that had just been said. Then I called AJ. "Hey. What're you doing Thursday night?" I asked.

"Probably sitting at home watching Ooba Gooba with Ava," he said.

"Chris just called and invited me to his bachelor party," I said.

"The bachelor party?" AJ asked. "Chris wants you at his bachelor party? I thought you all weren't getting along?" he sounded concerned. "What'd I miss? Last I heard you were telling him to bring it bitch in a club."

"That's the last I knew, too," I said.

The phone clicked and Rochelle butted in, "Alex, you have to go with him to the party," she said.

"Hi Ro," I said.

"It's probably an ambush!" Rochelle said, "Think about it, Nick. Chris and all his buddies and you."

"Shit that's true," AJ said.

"An ambush? Guys, stop it, you're being dramatic," I said.

"Are we?" Rochelle asked. "Chris is a tool Nick, he's not above pulling some shit like that to teach you a lesson. And he knows he couldn't beat you one on one in a fair fight. You could own his ass anyday of the week. You're like Rocky Balboa to his Eurkle."

AJ crowed.

"So AJ, you have to go with Nick to the bachelor party. And you guys should bring someone else too." She thought about it. "Maybe Kevin."

"Kevin's never gonna go to this," I said, "He hates Chris."

"I do too," AJ piped up.

"Yeah but Kev's also pissed at me," I said, "He'd probably say something like this is what happens or some other shit and start in on a tangent for a hundred years about procrastinating."

"Did you ever sign those contracts?" AJ asked.

I looked over the back of the couch at the pile on my table. "Yes," I lied.

AJ snorted.

"Then ask Howie," Rochelle suggested.

Between Howie and Brian, Howie was only slightly more likely to say yes. Brian would curl up and die when he heard it was a strip club we were going to. Picking between Brian and Howie was like picking between Raj and Wolowitz from Big Bang Theory as back ups in the fight.

AJ was sort of my Sheldon Cooper.

But at least he was willing.

"I'm gonna rip that guy's nads off and then he won't be able to face her a man," he crowed.

I heard Ava cry in the background. "Kick his ass, Nick," Rochelle said, "My bets on you." She hung up the phone to go get Ava quieted.

AJ was excited, "If you beat him up are you gonna go all bloody nosed and limping to tell Ashley you won her in battle?"

"Well hopefully I won't be bloody nosed or limping," I said, "And I'll probably just tell her I love her rather than making her sound like a trophy at a renaissance fair, but yeah basically."

"Man this shit is romantic," AJ said.

"LIKE DAYS OF OUR LIVES," screamed Rochelle in the background.

Before: The Bachelor Party


Ashley

Chris was a buzz about his bachelor party Thursday evening. It was all he would talk about. I was personally not having a huge party - I didn't have enough friends to really fill a party, other than Nick, who was going with Chris on his outing - so I had spent the day at a spa treating myself to all kinds of facials and massages. I came home relaxed and planning to watch Breakfast at Tiffany's and eat a box of chocolate covered strawberries, which I'd stopped and spent a grotesque amount of money on at the Godiva store on my way home from the spa. I'd been craving them all week.

"So where are you boys going again?" I asked, laying my favorite fuzzy blanket across the couch and putting my strawberries and a bottle of sparkling grape juice on the coffee table.

"To a fight," Chris replied. He grinned. "There's gonna be some ass kicking tonight."

I rolled my eyes, "What is it in boys that make them all so blood thirsty?"

Chris laughed.

I sat myself down on the couch and pulled my blanket around me. "When are you gonna be home?" I asked.

"I dunno, we're going to the bar, we're going to the fight, then we'll probably get some food or something."

"No strip clubs?" I asked.

"No strip clubs." Chris kissed my forehead.

The buzzer rang and Chris let some of his friends up and a few minutes later, more of them arrived, and soon the dining room behind me was buzzing with testosterone. I stayed out of sight, out of mind in the living room, until I heard Nick's voice.

"Where's Ashley at?" he asked.

I got up and wandered out. Nick was flanked by Howie and AJ. AJ was wearing a leather jacket and his shades and a durag. Howie had on a tank top so his biceps showed. The two of them looked like biker dudes. I raised an eyebrow. "What's with the get up?" I asked, waving at the two stooges.

AJ smacked his fist into his palm.

"Get up?" Howie looked down at himself, then over at AJ. "No get up."

"They're being ridiculous," Nick said, crossing the room. He pulled me into a hug.

I patted his back. "I hope you all have fun. And you--" I pointed at Nick, "Don't be late tomorrow to the vineyard, we've got a lot of last minute stuff to do. I know I've let you shirk off your maid of honor responsibilities lately but you're a big strong man and I'm a weakling so I need your help."

"I'll be there with bells on," he answered.

Chris grinned, "Okay fellas, let's get a move on." He swooped over, practically shoved Nick out of the way, and wrapped his arms around me, pressing his mouth onto mine and dipping me backwards into the kiss.

Nick walked away.

Chris rightened me, "I love you so much," he said. "To me... you are the world."

I felt my face flush.

"See you later, babe," he said, and he ushered the guys out of the apartment. Nick lingered by the door until he was the last one to go out before Chris, his eyes locked on me. I smiled at him, and he nodded, stepped outside, and Chris blew me a kiss. I waved.

Once the door was closed behind them, I went and started my movie and ate every last one of my strawberries.

By this point, I'd completely forgotten about the Walgreens bag in my suitcase.




Nick

I moved with the herd of guys down the hallway to the stairs. Out in the lot, Chris directed us all down the street to the bar. We headed in the doors and I felt AJ and Howie flank me again as we went inside.

"There's a lot of guys here," Howie commented.

"Don't pussyfoot on us now, Howard," AJ said. He cracked his knuckles.

"What is with you guys and these outfits?" I asked, "You both look ridiculous. And you look ridiculous and cold," I said, nodding at Howie's bare arms.

"Ain't you never seen The Outsiders?" AJ asked, "This is what you wear to a rumble!"

"It's not confirmed it's a rumble yet, asshole," I said.

The bar was warm inside and the game was on and Chris ordered drinks up all around. We gathered around a table and Chris made a point of sitting next to me at it, forcing Howie to sit a few seats away. "Let's get some hair on our chest," Chris shouted. He looked at me, "Are you up for it?" he asked.

No, I thought.

"Bring it, bitch," I said.

Chris grinned, "I was hoping you'd say that." He turned to the waitress that was at his elbow, "Bring me and this guy a tray of Four Horsemen."

AJ's eyes widened.

The waitress laughed, "You boys up for that challenge?"

Chris slapped me on the back, "We can take it, huh Carter?"

"Four Horsemen," I agreed.

AJ scrambled to get to my ear, "That shit's gonna lay you out."

"Chris can't hold liquor," I said.

AJ looked uneasy.

A few minutes later the waitress returned with pints all around, a Red Bull for AJ, and six of the Four Horsemen drinks. I'm not entirely positive which four of the Horsemen were in said drink (AJ told me later it was Tequila, Jager, Rumple Minze and Bacardi) but the glass smelled like a urinal in Amsterdam had been doused with kerosine. I picked up the glass.

Chris grinned at me, lifting his glass as well. "You sure you can handle this?" he asked.

"Can you?" I asked.

Chris quickly knocked the drink back.

I closed my eyes and copied him.

It tasted like straight up rubbing alcohol. I had all I could do not to choke to death as it seared its way down my throat. My stomach was probably going to eat its own lining in self defense, assuming this shit didn't burn a hole straight through it. I pictured like in Looney Tunes when the coyote or whatever gets a giant hole in them and the edges are all blackened and smokey. That's what my stomach felt like. Howie was drinking his ale, looking at me with concern. I could feel AJ's eyes on the back of my head.

I was dizzy already. It'd been almost a year since I drank. I mean one or two beers here and there, but nothing hard.

Chris picked up his glass. I reached for my second one, though with less enthusiasm than I'd grabbed the first one.

Chris grinned. "You okay, Carter? Or do ya wanna give up?"

"I'm just fine," I replied.

Chris knocked back the drink. So did I.

It was even worse the second time. It felt like fire. It felt like hell had unleashed itself in my mouth and everything connecting my brain to me was being severed by it. I closed my eyes as the burn hit my stomach. I slammed the glass onto the table, I could feel little tears thinking about coming out my eyes. I opened them. There twere two Chris's.

Fuck this shit was gonna roll me under the table.

I let out a groan.

Chris laughed, "Can't take it Nick? It's okay. Only real men can drink the Horsemen."

AJ nudged me. I turned and both AJs were nodding toward Chris's glass. It was only half empty. "That's still his first one," AJ intoned.

I felt like I was gonna throw up.

"Let's go outside a second," AJ said, jumping up and grabbing my arm.

"Yeah, c'mon Carter, some fresh air would do you some good." Chris stood up, pushing his sleeves up.

Howie rushed ahead and opened the door and I realized the guys were right. We were about to have a rumble. I don't think I ever had a rumble before, other than a couple times when we were kids where me and Ashley got in fights with other kids at school but Ashley had actually been stronger than me in school and I think most of those fights ended with her in detention and me getting atomic wedgies and swirlies.

I grabbed AJ's jacket as I stumbled. "Fuckkkk," I groaned.

AJ looked concerned.

"Man you don't gotta do this shit," Howie said quietly. "He's playing real dirty. He's got like fifteen guys here and you're drunker than a sailor."

"I'm not drunk," I mumbled. But I think I said it backwards. Like I was Yoda. Drunk, I'm not.

AJ whispered, "Dude, you can't fight like this."

"Can fight, I can," I said.

That time my words were just gibberish.

I stood up, letting go of AJ... or Howie... or one of them. I don't remember anymore who I was leaning on. I staggered back towards Chris, who was just emerging from the bar.

"Okay Nick, let's talk," Chris said, coming closer. "You're gonna back the fuck off. And after tomorrow, you aren't gonna see Ashley again. She's mine, I won her fair and square." He stopped a couple feet in front of me, "Do we have an understanding?"

I stared at him, my mind swimming.

"She doesn't love you, you're the consolation prize because she thought she couldn't have me," I slurred the words together, "But the second I tell her that I love her, she's gonna be mine... and I'm gonna take her home... and you're gonna be completely forgotten... like the pile of horse shit that you are."

"Okay," Chris laughed. "I see this needs a little bit more... discussion."

He took two quick steps towards me and I stumbled backward, and I brought my fist around and caught his jaw. He stepped back, then wound up and I only just saw his fist round-housing toward the side of my head before I blacked out.

Before: Last Chance Before


Nick

YO GABBA GABBA! MUNO! YO RIGHT! HE'S TALL AND FRIENDLY!! FOOFA!! SHE'S PINK AND HAPPY! BROBEE!! WHOAAA! THE LITTLE GREE---

"Ava no! Uncle Nick is trying to sleep, shhh."

"GABBBBBBBBAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

"SHHH!"

"GAAAAAAAAAAABBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

I groaned.

I opened my eyes. Rochelle was running out of the room, Ava's legs and arms swinging around her violently, the shrill shriek of a kid being pulled away from a muted TV echoing off the walls and splitting my head in about forty-seven pieces. On the TV a furry green thing was doing cartwheels and a bunch of other furry things were clapping and there was a robot and... Jesus, whoever wrote that show was more fucked in the head than I felt.

I groaned as I sat up. There was a trash can next to me. It had a rank vomit smell coming out of it and I had a feeling I'd used it a few times during the night. My throat still felt raw. There was drool on the cushion where my head had been.

AJ tip toed in the room and hit the power button on the TV before he realized I was awake. "Shit," he said, "Did she wake you up? I'm sorry man."

"Gabba," I muttered.

"Yeah, she loves her Gabba," he said. He stood there awkwardly, hands in his pockets.

"What the fuck happened?" I asked.

"How much do you remember?"

"Uhh.. Howie's biceps."

"Yeah he looked ridiculous," AJ agreed. "Well, Chris laid you out good man. Me and Howie had a helluva time dragging you back here. You're damn heavy when you're nothin' but dead weight, man."

I groaned and rubbed my eyes. "What time is it?" I asked.

"Half past eleven," AJ answered.

"Shit. I'm supposed to be at the Vineyard at noon," I said. I struggled to get to my feet.

"You're gonna have to be late. Trust me, you're gonna want to shower. You got puke all in your hair in the cab."

"Fuck." I couldn't stay standing up anyway. I fell back onto the couch. "I blew it. I've lost her."

AJ's voice was sharp, "No. No giving up. That's not allowed. No sitting back down. Get your ass up." He came over and tugged on my arm, trying to make me stand up. I gave in reluctantly. "You're gonna go upstairs, shower, do whatever shit you do to your hair to make it look like a duck ass and get dressed. You're going up to that vineyard, you're gonna get Ashley alone, and you're gonna tell her you love her and fuck her brains out just to seal it in there real good, then you're gonna beat the ever loving shit out of Chris. Knock out a couple of his teeth or something."

"AJ..."

"Nick, I'm fucking serious, that guy is an asshole. You need to save her from him."

"He loves her."

"You love her, and I'm on Team Nick, dude. You need to get your ass going before you let me down."

I looked up at AJ.

"Dude, I'm telling you... You love her like I love Rochelle. If any pansy-assed jerkoff like Chris had fought me for her I wouldn't have let him have her. You and Ashley are meant to be together, don't let that get taken away from you. You'll reget it if you do. You'll regret it everyday. And so won't she. She just doesn't know it yet."

I nodded.

"GO SHOWER," AJ snapped, "Hurry. We got a vineyard to get your ass to."




Ashley

I looked at my watch. It was almost one. Nick had texted and said he'd be a little late. I had almost the entire dinner room looking perfect, directing Chris and a couple of his friends who had shown up on time where to put stuff. They'd smirked when I said Nick would be late, and said that Nick had drank too much the night before at the party and that he was probably on his knees kissing the toilet by their guesses. It was so like the "old Nick" to pull some shit like this. I'd thought he'd changed, but I guess, like his tattoo declared, old habits die hard.

He finally scampered into the room around one. He looked a little green around the gills, but he was upright.

"About time," I said.

"Sorry," he apologized.

"Not as young as you once were, ey Nick?" Chris yelled across the room.

I crossed my arms.

Nick frowned at Chris, then turned back to me. "We need to talk," he said, "Alone."

"Okay." I looked around, "We'll be right back, guys," I called. I grabbed Nick's hand and dragged him out of the room. We went down the hallway and I stopped about midway down, let go of his hand and crossed my arms again, staring at him. "Well?" I said, tapping my foot on the carpet.

Nick looked sick. He took a deep breath, "Okay so like I was in the plane crash and that was like whoa and then you were like all in my head you know and I saw you in my head and I was just so -- and I wanted to talk to you and I called you and it was the last thing I thought I was gonna hear and that was like what! you know? And I got all thinking and I realized that I been feeling like that a long time and I wanted to tell you and it's been like one thing after another, and this year is just --"

"Babe, where do you want me to put the tickets for the honeymoon?" Chris was suddenly in the hall and jogging towards us.

Nick glowered.

"Chris, just put them in my suitcase, okay? I'm trying to talk to Nick," I said.

Chris nodded, "Okay. I'll put them in your suitcase." He looked at Nick. "Oh hey, by the way, man, good talk we had last night." He grinned at Nick, then kissed me on the cheek, and jogged back off down the hallway.

I watched him go.

I looked at Nick, "I can't believe I'm getting married tomorrow," I said. "Honeymoon. Wow." I grinned.

Nick looked dumbfounded.

"We're going to the Galopogos, you know," I said, grinning. "There's a hotel there we're gonna be staying at that says in the morning you can see wild penguins roosting on the rocks by the ocean out back." I love penguins. "Isn't that awesome?"

"Awesome," Nick echoed.

"You know I love penguins."

Nick was staring at me.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

He nodded.

"We should get back out there, everyone's gonna be here soon and the room isn't even half finished..." I tilted my head, "Can we talk later?"

Nick nodded dumbly.

"Okay. C'mon. Let's go." I started walking down the hallway, but a couple steps later, I realized Nick wasn't following me. "Nick?" I said.

He turned and looked at me. "Do you love Chris?"

I stared at him. "Yes," I said.

Nick swallowed. "Does he treat you right?"

I laughed, "Yes of course, Nick."

Nick took a deep breath, "And you wouldn't rather be with anyone else in the entire world?"

I studied him. I wondered where this was coming from. "Of course not," I said finally. Silently, staring at Nick, I thought at least not anyone that wants to be with me, that is.

After: Then Walk Me Down The Aisle


Nick
I paced. I was in a small room off to the side of the main entry of the church, I guess it was probably a pastor's office because there was Bibles and crosses and fish things all over the place and those are all things pastors like. I could hear people arriving, talking, making their way through the hall way to the pews in the main church. My palms were sweating. I was trying to figure out how I was gonna get through the next hour.

The door opened and I turned and Chris was standing there in a charcoal grey suit. He had a white rose pinned to his lapel. He leaned against the door to close it. Instinctively, I brought my fists up in front of me. "Unguard," Chris said, holding up his palms. I lowered my fists reluctantly. "Look, man, I'm sorry about the other day, okay?" he said.

I hesitated.

"I got scared."

I stared at him.

"I just didn't know what to do, man, you know? I was afraid of losing her."

"Well you didn't, so go revel in your glory and brag somewhere else," I snapped.

"But I guess in the end you're right and you won fair and square."

"I dunno how fair it was," Chris admitted. "Anyways, I just wanted to say good fight, and I'm sorry for beating you in the head." He turned to go.

"Chris," I said.

He stopped and turned to look back at me.

"This morning, around four in the morning. What'd you say to Ashley?"

He looked confused for a second. He came back in the room, closed the door again. "How do you know I talked to her at four in the morning?"

"She was with me," I said.

Surprise registered on Chris's face. "What?"

Going all in, I said, "We were on our way to Vegas. To elope." My palms were pools of sweat, "And we stopped at this gas station and I went inside and I bought breath mints and condoms and when I went back outside, she wanted me to take her back."

Chris's face was unreadable. I had no idea what he was thinking.

"I just told her that I found her wedding present for me is all," Chris said with a shrug, and he ducked out of the room.

I stood there in the silence feeling worse than I had before. I'd hoped that Chris had told her some magical words that had made her question whether she was making the right choice. But just telling her he found a present she'd bought him? I really had just lost. It wasn't about Chris being able to tell her he loved her better than me, it wasn't about him being charming and me and my stupid mouth not really working right.

It was just that she loved Chris.

And that was all there was to it.




Ashley

"Okay, you're ready." Karen said. She put my veil on my head, nestling it into the pile of hair on my head. Thin whisps hung down in my face. I looked in the mirror. I looked like every little girl's dream. My hands trembled. "You look gorgeous," Karen said thickly.

"Thank you," I whispered.

She helped me step into my heels and to teeter up the stairs to the hallway. Everyone was inside the church, the doors were closed. Inside, music was playing, people were talking. There was a lot of noise, but it was all so muffled.

"I'll see you inside," Karen said, smiling, and she slipped in the doors. I stood in the hallway.

A door to the left opened, and Nick came out. He was wearing a tuxedo. He closed the door behind him and walked over to me stiffly. His eyes were red, and he had a look of determination on his face. He swallowed, his adam's apple bobbled as he stared at me in my dress. He walked over and held out his hands for mine. He stared into my eyes. "You... look.. beautiful..." he whispered.

"You don't have to do this," I said. "I can walk down there myself."

"I promised," he said.

My throat ached. I heard everyone inside shuffling. The music stopped. The pastor was talking.

Nick looked deep into my eyes. "I promise... this is the last time I will ask you this... then I will walk you down that aisle and give you away if that's what you want but..." He slid down the length of me, to his knees on the floor in front of me, holding my hands, staring up at me. His eyes were wide, bright, pleading. "Pick me."

The words were so simple, but the emotion in them shook his voice.

I felt tears in my eyes, "Nick. Please."

The doors to the church started to open, the organ started the notes of Here Comes the Bride.

"Don't marry him," Nick begged.

"Nick," I said, "I have to."

"You don't have to."

"I'm pregnant," I said.

Nick scrambled to his feet as everyone in the church turned to look at us. Chris stood at the front of the church, staring, waiting, his face one of worry...

"I'm pregnant and my baby needs a father."

"I'll be the father," he whispered urgently.

"Nick."

"I'll be a good father. I'll play baseball with him if he's a boy and I'll go to tea parties if she's a girl. Ashley I told you I'd give you anything you asked for, I'll be a father if that's what you're asking me for."

"Nick you've said a thousand times that you don't want to be a father. You've said a thousand times you don't want to get married. I can't ask you to do that Nick," I said.

"Ashley," he said, "For you, I'd do anything."

I took a deep breath. "Then walk me down the aisle."

After: The Newlyweds

Nick

I walked her down the aisle.

It was Here Comes the Bride, but it felt like a death march.

People looked at us with soft looks of adoration.

She floated beside me like the angel she is.

Chris stood in front of me, grinning, gloating. I stopped at the front of the church, Ashley's hand slipped into mine. I stared into her eyes for a long moment, my throat catching. And more than anything I wanted her to open her mouth right there and tell me she'd changed her mind.

She didn't.

I took her hand... and I put it into Chris's hand.

And I walked away.

No, I ran away.

I don't know what everyone in that church must've thought as I put Ashley's hand in Chris's and then bolted out of the church. I burst through the doors into the hall, through the front doors into the sunlight outside and I stumbled down the steps and sat on the grass that ran along the edge of the walkway out to the street. The air smelled like ocean. I curled up, my face against my knee. I struggled to get up and staggered to the bushes that lined the front of the church and I threw up.

The church doors opened and I felt a hand on my back.

"Nick, honey."

I looked up into Rochelle's eyes. "Did she do it?" I choked.

"I'm out here with you, aren't I?" she asked. She rubbed my back. "Oh honey." She stroked my spine as I turned back to the bush and wretched more.

The door burst open again. Footsteps on the stairs made me look up. But it was just AJ. "Fuck, Nick, I can't believe you did that. I had eighty riding on you pulling a Swifty," he said.

I threw up again.

"I can't believe you bet on that," Rochelle groaned.

"I told you I was gonna."

"AJ you have no cooth."

"Who the fuck needs cooth, I almost had $160!"

"Nick," Rochelle was turned back to me.

I swiped my mouth with the back of my hand. "Get me the fuck out of here," I said thickly.

"Okay," Rochelle said. She turned to AJ. "Get the car."

"Getting the car," AJ replied, and he trotted off.

Rochelle turned back to me. "Nick... it's gonna be okay," she whispered, kneeling down.

I shook my head. "Nothing is going to be okay ever again."

Rochelle hugged me tightly to her and I let her, though I didn't have it in me to wrap my arms around her in return. AJ pulled the car up along side the corner of the church, and Rochelle led me across the grass to the car.

As we were climbing in, the church doors opened one last time.

And everyone inside came out, following Chris and Ashley.

The newlyweds.