After: The Voicemail


Ashley

I ate more lasagna the first week Nick was gone than I've ever eaten in my entire life. I sat on the couch but the couch was cold because he hadn't fallen asleep on it for his afternoon nap and I did laundry but it only took half the time because it was just my stuff. I found myself arguing with myself about what programs to watch, pulling for Nick's favorite things and sometimes caving in, even though I didn't give a damn about SportsDesk.

At dinner, I microwaved more lasagna and sat at the dining room table and stared across it where he usually sat and I talked to myself, listening to the clock ticking.

When I went to bed, I climbed in and messed up his side of the blankets, then crawled over to my own and hogged all the pillows just to piss him off, and fell asleep hugging one. But it didn't rise and fall and there was no heart beat, so I couldn't convince myself it was him. In the middle of the night, I got desperate enough to shove this old teddy bear underneath that simulates a heart beat - you know, one of those ones for infants - and I turned it on but the heart beat was too perfect and Nick's was a wavering, hilly sort of thing that never kept a rhythm perfectly.

Nick's was like an acoustic show while this teddy bear was a perfectly polished pop song.

I threw the bear across the room and grabbed the phone from the nightstand and dialed his number.

When the voicemail picked up I let out a sigh.

"Hey, it's me, Nick. Leave a message and I'll call ya back."

"I miss you," I told him, "I can't wait to see you again. I love you."

I hung up and put the phone back on the nightstand and laid back down, hugging the pillows again, and closed my eyes.




Nick

I was on stage.

A microphone stood before me and I had my guitar around my neck. I pulled a guitar pick from my pocket and adjusted the height of the mic. A spotlight shone out from the dark ahead of me, blinding me as I stared up into it, the rays of light shooting out so vividly it felt like a tangible thing. There was a murmur of conversation in the crowd that pooled around the stage, their faces upturned in anticipation.

I brought my hand down against the strings and the hum of the guitar rang across the room, strong and vibrant.

My eyes searched the crowd... looking at each face... trying to find that one face that I wanted to see more than any other face.

But Ashley wasn't there.

My cell phone vibrated in my pocket and, because I wasn't sure what I was going to play, I checked my phone real quick, and there was a voicemail from Ashley. I clicked on it.

Her voice filled my ear. "I miss you. I can't wait to see you again. I love you."

"I love you too," I said, even though I knew she couldn't hear me. I took a deep breath, put the phone back into my pocket, and turned back to the microphone and the fans, who were still waiting patiently, expectantly. I put my hand on the microphone to steady it... then swiped my fingers across the guitar strings... and started singing.

"Love... I get so lost... sometimes...
Days pass... and this emptiness... fills my heart...
When I want to ruuuun away... I drive off... in my car...
But which ever way I go.... I come back... to the place you are...."

Before: She's Just So Damn Pink


Nick

I was covered with paint. I put the oscillating fan on in the bedroom and hacked and coughed my way down the hall to the bathroom, where I stripped off all my clothes and climbed into the shower. I hoped the paint smell would die off before the next day. I couldn't believe I hadn't done this before. But I guess with everything going on, it was easy to forget. Plus, it would've been some generic color if I had done it before.

When I was clean and all the paint was out of my hair and off my skin, I climbed out of the shower and wrapped a towel around my waist and brushed my teeth, leaning close to the mirror to see that I got it all, making faces like a deranged animal. Like a llama maybe.

I got dressed and rubbed my hair, trying to dry it quicker, as I walked back to the kitchen and opened the fridge, pulling out an Odwalla protien shake. I turned to toss the cap in the trash and my eyes landed on the thick contract I'd chucked in there a couple days before. I pulled it out and put it on the counter. It had a couple stains, but for the most part it was still in tact. I opened it to the page with my signature, releasing me from all responsibilities to the Backstreet Boys for a minimum of three years.

I left the contract on the counter.

I grabbed my keys and headed out the front door.

At the hospital, I said hi to the receptionist at the door and stopped by the gift shop to pick up the mandatory payment for admission: Ashley's York peppermint patty and a Yoohoo. Then I jogged up the steps to the maternity ward, the bag on my arm. I got to the big baby window and pressed my face against the glass until I saw her. The little pink giraffee toy was next to her and she was kicking her feet all round and pink and perfect. Zoey Jackson the tag over her head read. I waved at her, even though I knew she had no clue I was there, then I continued down the hallway to Ashley's room.

Two cops sat in chairs alongside Ashley's bed. She was sitting up, her hair tugged into a messy, dirty bun that hung limply to one side of her head. She'd obviously spent time trying to clean up though because she had on make up. I snuck around the bed as she talked to the officers and came up the other side of her, pulling up a third chair.

She was in the middle of describing what had happened at the apartment with Chris.

I put the peppermint patty and the Yoohoo on the table and reached into my backpack for the package of bendy straws. I tossed one up next to the Yoohoo.

Ashley grabbed my hand as she talked, describing how I'd tried calling and the cell phone had shattered. The cops were taking notes.

"And then Nick was there... and... well, to be honest, it's kind of hazy from there," Ashley finished with a shrug. "Then I was here, and the epidural, and the light, and... I guess the next thing I really remember from there is Zoey." She looked at me and smiled. "How is Zoey this morning? Did you see her yet?"

"Yeah, I waved at her on my way by. She's pink."

Ashley turned to the cops. "She's always pink. She's so cute. You should stop by and see her. She has the cutest fingers you'll ever see. Her fingernails, they look like she got a french manicure in there." She put her hand on her stomach.

One cop, whose badge declared his name was Officer Dexter, laughed. The other said, "I'm sure she's beautiful." But it was in that obligated to say so sort of way. Little did he know she really was the most beautiful baby in the entire world.

How could she not be? She looked just like her momma, and her momma was the most beautiful woman in the entire world. So it really made sense.

Officer Dexter looked at me. "Mr. Carter, do you mind if we ask you some questions about the incident as well?" he asked.

"Shoot," I replied. Ashley reached out her hands for her peppermint patty and Yoohoo, and I handed them to her so she wouldn't have to strain herself leaning forward. Her stomach was still raw from being stitched closed. She opened the cap on the Yoohoo and stuck her straw into it.

"How long did you know that Mr. Stensby was physically abusing Ms. Jackson?" the officer asked.

I thought about it. "What was it, like a week after your birthday?" I asked, looking at Ashley.

She nodded around her straw.

"I got a call from a doctor here.. uh.. I think his name was Edwards... She'd been admitted after a neighbor called and reported the arguing," I said.

"Why didn't you notice the warning signs sooner?" the other officer, whose badge said Officer Bryant, asked.

"Well before that, I'd been on tour across the country... and... well, we'd lost contact for a few months following them getting married, so yeah."

The officers took notes. "And you reported your suspicions following your discovery of the situation?" asked Officer Dexter.

"Yeah, I talked Ashley into filing a police report."

Officer Bryant shuffled through some notes. "Chris is claiming in his defense that you assaulted him at the apartment following your arrival..." he said.

"Well fuck yeah I assaulted him, the bastard all but killed Ashley," I blurted before I could see the fault in those words. A silence fell over us. Ashley lowered her Yoohoo, her eyebrows raised at me in disapproval.

"What exactly conspired between you and Mr. Stensby?" Officer Dexter questioned.

"Well when I broke down the apartment door, he had Ashley in a corner and she was all battered up real bad and I came up behind him and pulled him off her and we exchanged a few blows, but I mean I didn't do anything that wasn't... deserved."

"It was defensive," Ashley said.

Officer Bryant raised an eyebrow, "I thought you said you didn't remember from the moment you fell into the coffee table?" he asked.

"Well I mean it's hazy, but..."

Officer Dexter took a deep breath. "Unfortunately, Chris got a relatively good lawyer. He's behind bars, but if he can prove he was assaulted, he may get out on a mutual abuse clause that's designed to protect men from false accusations."

I felt my anger flare, "It's not a false accu--"

"I know!" Officer Dexter held up his hands, "I'm not saying it's a false accusation. I'm saying the justice system is very careful to make sure that the right persons are being detained in these situations and unfortunately it leaves a lot of loopholes for crafty lawyers to weave through if they know how to work the system."

I shook my head and turned away, pissed. "How could -- how can you call that justice if the bastard could get out just because I was protecting her?"

Officer Bryant sighed, "The justice system often serves up injustices. But if we all cooperate with one another, and work together, then everything will turn out just fine."




Ashley

After Officers Dexter and Bryant left, Nick paced the room. I patted the mattress next to me. "Sit," I begged.

He came over and sat but his leg bounced up and down with nerves.

"Nick, please, it's going to be okay. Those cops were talking like worst case scenario stuff just then."

"Yeah but this is us and let's face it if something can possibly fuck us up it's going to," Nick said pessimistically. He rubbed his face. "I mean look at what we've been through already: Vegas, plane crashes, interferring fiances, Vegas again, pregnancies, domestic abuse, dead dogs, two near death experiences... I just seriously don't put psychopath with a vengence out of our spectrum."

I laughed. "Well when you list it like that you'd think we were fucking Bonnie and Clyde or something," I said. I held out my hand and wiggled my fingers until he put his in mine. "Nickolas, stop being a pessimist. Be positive."

"Dude." He looked at me with wide eyes, "Did you not pay attention to that list? It's long."

"I know. But there's something different this time that wasn't true those other times."

"What's that?"

"We have each other. And we have Zoey."

Nick smiled. He stood up and leaned over me, pressing his mouth to my forehead softly. "I am glad that we have that," he said.

"You should go get her," I pleaded.

"Can't we like make out a little or something first?" he asked, pressing his lips to my mouth.

I thought about it a moment. "Ummm.. yeah, sure, making out works." I laced my fingers through Nick's hair and pulled him closer to me. He was bent like an L over the bed but that didn't seem to bother him.

He pulled back after a couple moments. "I painted the spare bedroom last night. Well I guess it's not spare anymore."

"You did?"

He nodded, "It's pink. Like she is."

"She certainly is pink."

"Yes she is."

"Aw Nick, I miss her, go get her."

"Okay."

I watched as he ducked out of the room to go get my baby girl and I grabbed the York peppermint patty off the table tray and ripped it open, breaking it into pieces. I shoved a slice of it into my mouth and chewed. I imagined myself sliding down the alps like they do in the commercials after they bite into York peppermint patties.

Nick came back in a moment later. "The nurse is gonna bring her in a second," he said, and he sat down. He grabbed my hand again and stared up at me as I chewed my candy bar. I offered him a piece. Well I didn't really offer it, I just shoved it into his mouth and he laughed as he chewed it, grinning up at me with those big blue eyes of his.

"I've been thinking," he said.

"Have you now?" I asked, "What's that like for you?"

He smirked, "Don't be a bitch," he laughed.

"I like being a bitch to you," I teased. "Seriously, what were you thinking?"

"I think we should move."

"Move?"

"Yeah, move outta that house. There's a lot of weird shit associated to it and I think it'd be better karma if we took Zoey and moved somewhere else."

"But you painted the room."

He shrugged, "Other rooms will paint."

"But... Where?"

"I have the house in Nashville."

"But the ocean?"

He shrugged. "We'll keep this place. Or get another place. But I think we should make Nashville our primary home for awhile."

"What about the Backstreet Boys?"

"I signed the contract."

I stared at him. "I thought you threw it away."

"I didn't take the trash out yet."

"So you're thinking about bringing it in after all then?"

He shrugged. "It seems stupid to tour now. I mean, Zoey. And you."

"Zoey and I will be here when you get back."

"Yeah, but... I'll miss stuff. I don't wanna miss stuff."

I licked my lips. "It's still your choice, Nick. I stand by that. I'll back whatever you chose to do."

"I just think we'll be... happier... in Nashville for awhile." He grinned, "Zoey can play in our backyard. We'll get her a swing."

I laughed. "I think she's a little small for a swing."

"A pink swing." Nick was grinning.

"Even a pink swing."

"She'll be big enough someday," he said.

The nurse came in, pushing the little bed and I saw little fingers and sock covered toes flying around and I squealed and Nick moved out of the way as the nurse picked Zoey up and softly laid her across my chest. "Here she is," she cooed as I wrapped my arms around her.

"Zozozozozo," I mumbled in a soft voice.

"Thanks," Nick said to the nurse.

The nurse smiled and nodded and left the room and Nick came over like he was pulled by a magnetic force and put his head on the pillow next to mine, staring at Zoey.

"She's just so damn pink," he said.

Before: Choice Made


Ashley

I woke up with a start. It was dark in the room, moonlight shone through the window. Panic spread through me as I realized neither Nick nor Zoey were by my side - and both of them had been when I'd fallen asleep. I sat up quickly and reached for the little remote control thing that turned on the TV and the lights in my room.

With the click of a button the room was illuminated. But I quickly dimmed the lights because I'd spotted them. Nick was asleep in the chair across the room, baby Zoey pressed against his bare chest, her head nestled just below his neck. He had her tucked into his arms, his cheek against the top of her head. Pink Giraffee looked on from her little rolly bed.

I sat there and watched them, wishing I had a camera.

The nurse tiptoed in and glanced at Nick and Zoey, a smile breaking across her face. Then she turned to see me and whispered, "How long have they been like that?"

"I think I fell asleep, too," I admitted.

The nurse came over, dragging her vitals cart behind her, and strapped the blood pressure cuff around my arm. "Let's see how you're fairing," she said as she turned the machine on and attached the ET-like glowy thing on my finger for my temp and heart rate. She took note of the results on an iPad and quickly took all the machinery off me. "I'll give you a little longer before I come back for baby," she whispered.

I nodded, then, "Hey, do you happen to have a camera?"

She smiled. "A polaroid. I'll be right back."

"Thank you."

I waited, watching Nick's chest rise and fall with Zoey upon it, sleeping peacefully.

When the nurse came back, she held the camera in her hand, winked, and tip-toed closer to Nick and Zoey, and clicked the shutter. When the flash went off Nick's eyes fluttered and he lifted his head up, his grip still solid on Zoey's body, and looked around, a confused, sleepy expression on his face.

The nurse handed me the Polaroid as it zipped out of the camera, and I shook it to develop it, then she turned back to Nick, "I'm sorry to interrupt you two, you looked so precious, but I have to bring baby Zoey back to the nursery for the night."

Nick looked disappointed. "Okay," he said.

The nurse lifted Zoey carefully off Nick's chest, and Zoey whimpered angrily, her fists flying.

"Mommy needs a night-night kiss," I spoke up and the nurse dutifully brought Zoey over to me. I hugged her and kissed her warm little forehead. "Mommy loves you, Zozozozo," I whispered.

Nick watched as the nurse plucked Zoey up from me and plopped her back into her little bed and her angry fists waved about again, and she was rolled out of the room. I stared after the nurse's back until she was well around the corner and Zoey's whimpers were out of earshot.

I looked down at the Polaroid.

It was perfect.




Nick

I stuck around at the hospital until the last possible moment and the nurse absolutely wouldn't let me stay any longer. Then I kissed Ashley on the cheeks and told her I'd be back as soon as they'd let me up to see her and she said good night and I headed out the door, waving goodbye to the overnight receptionist and getting back in my car.

The house was big and empty and lonely feeling when I got there. I went inside and turned on a bunch of lights and the stereo so my iPod shuffle played throughout the house. I went into the kitchen and stood at the counter in front of the contract. I reached into the trash and pulled out the manilla envelope and shoved the contract back into it, dusting off a couple few particles from it. I turned and rummaged around in a drawer and unearthed some tape and resealed the envelope after having ripped it open once already.

But this time my choice was made.

And just to make it with a capital Made, I hit the stop button on the stereo, and carried the contract back out to the car. I drove across town to the office of the lawyer I was supposed to mail it to and I shoved it into the drop box.

Choice made. There was no turning back now.

I walked back to the car and climbed in, buckling my seatbelt and taking a deep breath.

I was officially not a Backstreet Boy. And I couldn't be a Backstreet Boy for a minimum of three years. Signed, sealed, delivered.

I drove home again feeling oddly accomplished, and by the time I got back and had the stereo playing again, I was convinced that I'd made the best choice. I went to check on Zoey's room and found the paint had dried and the fumes were less toxic than they'd been when I'd left in the morning. I dragged the crib into the bedroom and sat down with a screw driver to attempt to assemble it.

At six o'clock the next morning, I'd assembled it and put the padding and blankets and stuffed animals inside that I'd purchased to surprise Ashley with. I stood in the door way, staring into the pink palace that I'd put together myself and I felt proud of myself for having taken the time to do it.

I hadn't slept, but that didn't stop me from getting dressed, brushing my teeth, and driving back to the hospital, where I said hi to the receptionist, stopped by the gift shop for Ashley's York peppermint patty and Yoohoo, and heading upstairs to see my beautiful ladies. And maybe even bring them home.

Although if I'm honest, I was kind of dreading the part where I brought them home because then it was gonna be up to me to protect them.

And so far, my track record at protecting them hadn't been so great.

Before: The List


Nick

When I got up to the hospital room, Ashley was sitting up in the middle of her bed with Zoey on her lap, cooing happily down at her. I put the peppermint patty and Yoohoo down on Ashley's tray table and climbed up on the bed with her and tilted my head to look at Zoey, too. Zoey's fat little lips puckered and spit came out and she rolled her eyes around. Ashley laughed, then looked at me. "Good morning," she said happily.

"Good morning," I replied. I kissed her cheek.

"Guess what?" she said, her eyes only momentarily darting from Zoey's chubby little face to mine.

"Hmm?" I glanced at her, then back at Zoey, too. She looked so much like Ashley it was crazy. It was like having two of them. I looked at Ashley as she looked at Zoey and smiled. I couldn't ask for more in all the world.

"Dr. Jorryn says we can go home," Ashley said. Then, to Zoey, "Yes he did, yes he did, didn't he Zozozo?"

I was simultaneously ecstatic and terrified. "Awesome!" I said, only letting my ecstatic side show through. "It's a good thing I stayed up and got the room ready for Miss Zozo, then." I grinned down at her, "I painted the whole room," I said, "It's all pink like you."

"And you're so pink," Ashley said.

Yeah, I know, we were very repetitive.

Dr. Jorryn came in the room, holding his ipad and adjusting his glasses. He looked up as he came around the curtain. "Well hello there, Nick, here to pick up these two gorgeous women are you?"

"Hey Dr. J," I answered. We bumped fists. Ashley smirked. "I'm allowed to take'em home you mean?"

Dr. Jorryn nodded, "It appears that way," he answered.

I looked at Ashley, "You hear that, honey, I get to take you home." I grinned cheesily at her so all my teeth showed.

Ashley raised an eyebrow.

"Yep, I've already signed off on Ashley here and I'll sign off on Miss. Zoey as soon as we've inspected that your car seat is properly installed."

I hesitated.

"You do have a car seat, yes?" Dr. Jorryn asked, looking over the rim of his glasses at me.

"I.... uh..." I bit my lower lip, "...painted the nursery."

"You forgot the car seat?" Ashley asked from behind me. "I put it on the list..."

"Yeah, the list. About the list..."

"Nick, what'd you do with the list?" Ashley asked, looking worried.

See... Ashley made a list for me. A list of things that needed to be done around the house before she and Zoey could come home. And the list was Very Important. She'd even drawn stars on the top of it with a highlighter to emphasize this fact. The list was so important to me that I'd put it in the little pocket on my jeans - you know, the pocket in the pocket, the extra safe pocket - just so I wouldn't lose it. Thing is, I never use the pocket in a pocket (because I save it for the super important stuff, really), and I forgot there was anything in there.

"Well... I did my laundry the other day..."

Ashley smacked her hand to her forehead. "So you didn't put the outlet covers on?"

"Er..."

"Or buy baby gates for the kitchen and hallway and sliding door?"

"Uhm..."

Dr. Jorryn's eyebrows were raised, a trace of humor playing on the corner of his mouth.

"Tell me you at least put together the crib."

I raised my hand, "That one I did do!" I said triumphantly.

Ashley sighed.

"Tell you what," Dr. Jorryn said. "Officially, Ashley's been discharged already. Why don't you two go home and do the last preparations and come back in a couple hours with the car seat and Zoey will be ready for you when you get back." He smiled.

I hated the idea of leaving Zoey alone at the hospital. I pictured Chris coming in on a rampage, scooping her up Cruella DeVille style, and running off to make dalmation-spot coats with her. Or something like that.

Ashley looked like she was thinking the same thing.

Dr. Jorryn put his ipad down and reached over, scooping Zoey up off Ashley's lap. Ashley's hands only very reluctantly let Zoey slide away. She looked like she was about to cry. Ashley, I mean, not Zoey. Zoey was perfectly happy in Dr. Jorryn's arm, a trail of drool coming out of the left corner of her mouth as she blinked up at him with her thick eyelashes.

"Go home, get ready," Dr. Jorryn said. He scooped his ipad up and tucked it under his arm. "Your lives are about to get turned upside down." He grinned. He nodded at papers he'd left on Ashley's nightstand. "There's Ashley's discharge forms there. We'll see you in a little bit. Say bye-bye, Zoey," he said, tilting her so we could see her.

Ashley's lower lip puckered out and she choked out, "Bye bye Zozozo."

"Bye bye," Dr. Jorryn said, ducking out of the room, carrying Zoey.

Ashley looked at me, pouting, "Aw Nick, I miss her."

I leaned forward and kissed Ashley's forehead.




Ashley

Nick and I were in Babies R Us, pushing the blue buggie around and grabbing all the supplies that had been on the list. I leaned against the buggy, pointing things out for Nick to get off the shelf that we needed. So far we had outlet caps, four extendable gates, bottles, pacifiers, a case of diapers (how the hell did he forget diapers?), a baby monitor with video, a heartbeat teddy bear, enough baby socks to stuff Pamela Anderson's bra on a twelve year old (or Paris Hilton), and a bunch of onesies.

We were now on the car seat aisle and Nick was playing with this interactive display that helped new parents pick out the car seat. "I never knew there was so many different friggin car seats," he muttered.

I ran my hand over my stomach. I felt empty. I pouted. Nick was still busy with the thingy and didn't notice the moment I was having. I looked down the aisle, a mother was pushing her cart with a toddler in it. I pictured Zoey being that size by the time we got back. I was missing her growing up, I just knew it.

"Niiiick," I whined.

"What?" he didn't look up from the monitor he was jabbing at with his finger.

"Nick hurry up, I miss my Zozo."

He pointed at the monitor. "This thing's a bitch, I'm tryin' to hurry."

"We still gotta go home and put all this shit up and stuff."

"We can get her first if you want," he said.

I looked at the toddler down the aisle. He was grabbing at stuff. I pictured Zoey grabbing at stuff. "What if she puts her fingers in the electrical socket?"

"I don't think she's gonna be near any electrical sockets in the time it takes me to get the thingies in them," he said.

"But she might be," I replied. I bit my fingernail nervously.

"She can't even crawl yet, babe," Nick answered.

"But --"

"Graco SmartRider 6000. That's what we need." He looked up and down the aisle, squinted at the screen, then muttered, "Fuck they all look the same."

The mother with the toddler looked afforntedly at Nick then buzzed off down the aisle, clearly offended by his language.

"We need to um curb our vocabulary," I said.

Nick turned to look at me. "What?"

"You and me, we need to start watching what we say so when Zoey gets bigger she isn't saying cuss words."

Nick stared at me for a moment. "Who said a cuss word?" he asked.

"You did, you just said..." I paused. "Fluff," I said finally, "You said fluff."

"Fluff?"

"Yes, fluff." I nodded.

Nick stood there staring at me. Then he walked over to me and he stood real close and his eyes were serious and sultry and he pressed his forehead against mine so our eyes were looking right directly into each other and he put his hands on my back, running them down my spine. His voice was playfully husky, "How about... I get the fluffin' car seat... into the cart... then we take the fluffin' thing out to the car...and put it in the backseat... then go home... and I'll fluff you so hard..."

I felt my knees go weak.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he said.

"Fluff me, Nick Carter," I said thickly, "Fluff my brains out."

Nick grinned, then turned quickly and grabbed a random car seat. "Let's get the fluff outta here!"

After: Faithfully


Nick

I could see dust riding on the beam of light emitting from somewhere in the rafters of the stadium. The applause of the fans echoed around me, a sound that reminded me of the ocean's tide rolling against the shore. Perhaps that's what I'd always found so comforting about it. In all my years as a Backstreet Boy and all my years working as a solo artist, this sound had been so soothing to me. Some of my lowest lows were healed by the sounds of the fans cheering, chanting, yelling.

But there was still no Ashley in the crowd and my heart felt heavy, wondering where she was, why she wasn't there.

I gripped the microphone and closed my eyes as the sound of the music washed over me from behind... my voice sliced through the dark, piercing the airwaves, ringing in the crooks and crannies of the auditorium.

"Highway run... into the midnight sun...
Wheels go round and round... you're on my mind..."

It felt like forever since I'd seen her. Felt like forever since I'd kissed her, touched her, held her close to me. I wondered how long it really had been. Days on tour don't measure the way normal life days do. There are no 24 hours on tour, there's just blurry memories of cities and travel and faces. Lots and lots of faces.

I couldn't have told you where I was if I tried to put a name to it. I'd lost track many shows ago, if I'd ever had an idea to begin with, that is.

"Restless hearts... sleep alone tonight...
Sending all my love on the wire
They say that the road ain't no place to start a family
Right down the line it's been you and me
And loving a music man ain't always what it's suppooosed to be...
Oh girl, you stand... by me...
I'm foreeever yoooours... faithfully."

I opened my eyes again as a saxaphone solo crept around me like blood in the veins of me and every person in the room. The lights spun purple and pink and blue through the air, turning cartwheels, and I slid down, sitting on the edge of the stage. I couldn't sing this song without thinking of Ashley, without thinking of our wedding day, of our hands woven together.

Missing Ashley was the strangest feeling I've ever known because it wasn't a hurt. It was a dull longing, like an acknowledgement that her presence could make things more perfect than they already were. I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt pain. This tour had been an amazing one. I was truly happy.

"Circus life... under the biiiig top woooorld...
We all need the clowns... to make us smile...
Through space and time... always anooother showwww...
Wondering where I am.... lost withooooout yoooou..."

But the tour was winding down, I reminded myself. I couldn't tell you how many more dates or days I had left to go, but I knew I was on my way home and that soon enough I'd arrive at my front door and there she'd be. I looked forward to that day constantly...

And being apart ain't easy on this looove affair
Two straaangers learn to fall in looove again...
I get the joy of rediscooovering yoooou
Ohhh girrrrrl you stand byyyy me
I'm foreeeeverrrr yooooouuuurs.... faithfully..."

Soon enough I'd sit on our back porch with her and stare out at the ocean. I couldn't wait.

I'm still yours... I'm foreeeever youuuurs...
Ever yourrrrrs...
Faithfully."




Ashley

There was a knock on the door that woke me up. Sunshine seeped through the cracks in the blinds and as I oriented myself to beign awake, I found I was wrapped into the pillow, Nick's favorite shirt pressed to my face. Another knock at the door, and I stretched as I sat up, "Coming," I said, and I got up, pulling on my robe and tying the waist band into a knot as I slid my feet into some slippers.

When I opened the door, I nearly forgot I wasn't staring at Nick. Oliver looked so much like Nick that many a time it was quite easy to look at him and forget that he wasn't his father. If it hadn't been for that scar of Nick's, Oliver would've been indistinguishable from him. "Surprise," he said, his smile crooked even without the scar. He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me tight into him just like Nick always did. "Zoey didn't tell you I was coming, did she?"

Oliver was like his father in other ways, too. He had his father's restless nature, and had gone to college for journalism and now travelled the world writing articles for National Geographic and taking photographs. He had a world-renown blog called Earth Steps that was featured frequently on the news to give emotional backdrops to current events in other countries. Oliver had a best selling book about how to travel the world on less than twenty dollars a day.

It'd been a long time since his twenty dollars had brought him home.

I closed my eyes and just experienced his hug. It'd been a long time since all my babies had been home under the same roof at the same time but finally Zoey, Oliver, Leslie, and Presley were all here.

If Nick had been there, it would've been the first time in four years that we'd been a complete family. Well I guess now this was the complete family. I felt sick at the thought, and pulled away from Oliver, my throat swelling with emotion that I had to do something to get my mind off of, and hugging was not helping.

"C'mon," I said, "I'll make you pancakes."

"With Mickey Mouse ears?" Oliver asked.

"If that's what you want," I answered as he followed me down the hallway, down the stairs, and into the kitchen. I waved at the cabinet, "Be a dear and get your old mum the griddle out of there will you?" I requested.

He bent down and made a big clattering mess of the pans yanking the griddle out and putting it up on the stove. He sat on the floor and started shoving pans back into the cupboard.

Zoey came out into the kitchen wearing a smart blue pencil skirt and blouse, looking every bit the successful fashion magazine creative director she was. She was pulling her long red hair into a braid. "Figures it was Oliver making all that racket," she said, rolling her eyes. "You want some spoons Ollie to drum with?" she teased, seeing him on the floor with the big spaghetti pot between his knees.

"Drum! Drum!" Oliver said in a baby voice.

Presley, my baby, came into the room. She was our wild child, the one who took after her daddy so much she'd been trying to break into the music scene and had done a moderate job of it locally, playing bars and coffee houses by night and working at a recording studio by day running the soundboards and equipment her daddy had trained her well on since she was yea high. "Has anyone seen my glasses?" she asked, squinting as she looked around the kitchen.

"Sink in the bathroom upstairs," Zoey answered.

Oliver climbed to his feet. "Don't forget my mouse ears, ma," he said as I started pouring pancake batter onto the griddle.

"Mickey Mouse pancakes! I want Mickey pancakes!" Presley yelled as she ran up the stairs.

"Where's Leslie?" I asked.

"Walking Steve Perry," Zoey replied. Steve Perry was Nick's chocolate lab. Leslie was a surgical resident at Vanderbuilt, operating everyday to save lives. She lived at the house with me and Nick for the past seven years while she worked on her internship and took on residency immediately following. She'd been the one to purchase Nick the big, sloppy, drooly labrador and the dog had been their pride and joy for the past six years. They went jogging with Steve Perry - who was a girl - every morning since Steve Perry was big enough to jog without trying to eat her leash. "She should be back in a minute," Zozo continued, "She said they were going to walk to the end of the block and back."

The commotion continued around me as I made the pancakes and put them into a dutch oven to keep them warm. Leslie came back and Steve Perry came barking into the kitchen, his big paws leaving prints on the floor and Presley came downstairs complaining that her roots were showing (why she'd ever dyed her beautiful blonde hair black was beyond me, but kids, you can't tell them such things). Zoey made Oliver help her set the table and soon I was asking Oliver to carry the dutch oven with the pancakes out to the dining room to eat, and pulling the carton of blueberries out of the fridge.

"Leslie," I said before I could realize what I was asking, "Call your father down for dinner."

Silence fell over the five of us.

Even Steve Perry seemed to understand the sobriety of the moment as she laid down and put her face between her paws.

My hands shook on the blueberry carton.

Oliver stared down at his plate, Leslie stared at me, stunned, and Presley looked near tears. Zoey came over and wrapped her arms around me. "C'mon, mumma," she said, and she guided me to the table, where we all sat down, one chair conspicuously empty.

Before: Let's Go Get Zoey


Nick

Ashley and I did not fluff.

Which is sad because I could use being fluffed real good.

But instead we went home and we put all the baby proofing devices into full use. I shoved plastic things into electrical sockets and Ashley put gates up in the doorways that needed it and we put all the breakables up high or else in other rooms where they could be monitored.

Ashley stared at me like I was nuts as I disconnected my PlayStation and moved it onto a shelf beside the TV instead of the shelf under the TV where the cable box was. "Nick, you do know she can't even crawl yet, right?"

"Then why the hell did we just do all that babyproofing?" I demanded.

Ashley sighed, "Because, it's what you do when you're bringing home a baby," she said, like I should've known that all on my own.

"Okay and this is what I do," I replied. I stretched the A/V plug around back of the set.

We stripped the box away from the car seat and I spent almost an hour trying to install it right. I had it installed correctly like five times before I was convinced that I'd done it right and it was safe enough for Zoey to be put into. Ashley looked like she was about to throw up from nerves as she watched, and she shifted her weight foot-to-foot, biting at her fingernails as she watched.

When we'd finally installed the thing, she looked up at me, her eyes wide and voice slightly shaky, "It's time to go get her," she said, "And bring her home."

I nodded. "I think we did everything."

"I think so too," Ashley answered, nodding.

We stood there awkwardly beside the open back doors of the car, the car seat nestled in there all snug-like. I took a deep breath. Ashley swallowed. "Are you scared?" I asked.

Ashley nodded, "Fuckin' terrified," she answered.

"I'm glad it ain't just me," I said. Then, after a pause, "And you mean fluffin'."

Ashley reached over and took my hands into hers. "Nick, I just want you to know, before the magic and the scared fades away, before we're both overtired and arguing and secretly wishing we coul return her... I just want you to know that you have been amazing. Not just today, but these last few months as well." She stared up at me. "Thank you."

I smiled, "You're always amazing. Like pretty much always. Like, All.The.Damn.Time."

"You are already an incredible father," she said thickly.

"If I was incredible, I wouldn't have forgotten the list," I said. "It was my first dad duty and I failed it already."

Ashley shook her head, "Hush that talk. I know I'm not the expert on dads, but I'm thinking that you're doing quite brilliantly at it."

Look at us, I thought, a couple of kids from fucked up families, or from no family at all, and we're about to attempt to build what we never had.

"Hey," I said, a thought occurring to me, "Did you ever read that letter your father left you?"

Ashley had opened a shipment from the prison in Kansas where her father had been retained until the day he commited suicide, and in the shipment she'd received a few things including an old lighter with a fading inscription from her mother to her father, and a letter addressed to her in a sealed envelope.

I know the envelope was sealed because Ashley didn't want to read it yet and the curiousity was killing me. I also happened to know that the seal must've been like super magic pernament glue because even holding it against the lamp until you could smell it didn't pop the seal open.

She shook her head, "Not yet," she answered.

I had a fleeting moment of wanting to encourage her to open it, until a flash went through my mind and I pictured Zoey one day holding an envelope with Chris's handwriting scrawled across the front of it. My enthusiasm for the envelope withered.

"Let's go get Zoey," I said.

Ashley's grin was wider than the Cheshire Cat's. "Yes," she said, "Let's. I miss her. I'm used to spending all day with her around," she reminded me, running her hand over her stomach.

We drove over to the hospital and the entire way I kept sneaking peeks in the rearview mirror at the empty car seat in the back. Nerves ran through my body and I became incredibly conscious of what a terrible driver I am. I never do the speed limit on the highway we took from the house to the hospital, but that day I did.

I glanced over at Ashley when we were stopped at a redlight off the exit, and she smiled. "You know what I just realized?" she said.

"What?"

"This is one of the last times we're going to be alone for a couple years."

It was weird, because it felt like we were doing things all out of order or something, like puzzle pieces had gotten mixed up all funny or something. Ashley was still married to another man, yet here I was bringing home a baby, and we were engaged by word of mouth, but not by ring, and although it was only about two and a half months since Ashley and I had landed back into each other's lives, it felt like we'd been together forever.

I pulled into an empty space near the entrance of the hospital and we sat in the car and we stared out at the hospital together. I reached over and took her hand. "She's in there," Ashley said quietly.

"She is," I said, nodding.

"I'm so nervous," she said.

"Me, too," I said.

We continued staring up at the brick building for a long moment. Then Ashley turned to me. "Just so you know," she said, "As far as I am concerned, you are Zoey's real father, and if she never knows that Christopher even exists, that is just fine with me."

I squeezed Ashley's hand.

"Your love for her is already stronger than Chris's DNA will ever be."

I leaned over and I kissed Ashley's cheek. "It's impossible to not love her," I said, "You made her."

Ashley laughed and her cheeks blushed almost as pink as Zoey. "It's not like I'm a skilled artisan, she made herself in there," she said.

"But she's a part of you," I answered, "And when it comes to you, I love every part. So its impossible not to love her. Besides that, she's daaaa----nnnggggg cute," I said, just catching my curse word. I grinned.

Ashley laughed, "You're daaaaa-nnnngggg cute yourself, Mr. Carter," she said, imitating my save.




Ashley

As the moment came closer and closer that Nick and I would be alone with Zoey, Nick got more and more spastic and I got more and more nervous. We carried Zoey out of the hospital, Nick grabbing doors ahead of me, watching Zoey in my arms like an eagle, ready to swoop in if anything should go awry. Dr. Jorryn and McKenna the nurse followed, McKenna had bright, teary eyes as she grinned, and Dr. Jorryn's face was one of genuine joy for us. Nick rushed to get the car and pull it up and McKenna inspected the car seat with Nick while Dr. Jorryn went over feeding instructions and reminding me of appointments and gave me a business card with his personal number on it should we need anything at all. Before I knew it, McKenna had approved the car seat and Dr. Jorryn was showing Nick and I each how to secure Zoey into it, and we took turns fastening and unfastening the buckle several times before Nick finally buckled her in for real, and we got out of the car. Nick shook Dr. Jorryn's hand and thanked him, and then got in the car and I turned to face Jorryn and McKenna myself.

"Thank you," I said to them, "For everything."

"You're very welcome," Dr. Jorryn said, smiling. "And congratulations, Ashley."

"Yes congratulations!" McKenna said eagerly, grinning, "She's so beautiful..." she whispered, "And so is he," she nodded toward Nick.

I laughed, "I know."

McKenna winked.

Dr. Jorryn held out his hand to shake mine, "Good luck, and call us if you need anything," he said.

I looked at his hand, then wrapped my arms around him into a bone-crushing hug. "Thank you," I said again, and he laughed and patted my back awkwardly.

And then I got in the car, and Nick took a deep breath. He'd been staring at Zoey in the rear view mirror. He looked at me. "Are you ready for this?" he asked.

I nodded.

"Then let's go," he said. And he pulled away from the curb, and I saw Dr. Jorryn and McKenna go back inside, and just like that, in what seemed like moments, Nick and I were alone with Zoey.

Nick drove even slower and more cautiously on the way home than he had on the way to the hospital.

I kept leaning back to look at her.

She yawned a couple times as we rode, but for the most part she slept through the whole thing.

When we came to a stop in the driveway, Nick and I both turned in our seats and looked over the shoulders at her. She'd woken up when the car turned off, and now lay there looking around. "Maybe we should've installed bouncy house material all over our house so if we drop her she'll just bounce," Nick muttered.

I looked over at him. "Maybe we should wrap her in bubble wrap."

"Bubble wrap would be very helpful right now."

"Yeah. Or like one of those lifeproof cases you have on your phone."

"That thing saves my phone like everyday."

"I know."

We stared down at Zoey some more.

"Do you think they make those for babies?" he asked.

"No, Nick, they don't."

"Damn. I mean... dang."

Zoey waved her little arm in the air and Nick reached out and she grabbed onto his finger, her little perfect fingernails, like they'd been manicured, latched on and she pulled his hand closer. I looked over at his face and he was staring down at her with a face that plainly said he was head over heels, over the moon, completely in love with her.

"Nick," I said thickly, the sight of him so in love with my baby all but making my heart explode, "We're going to be good parents."

He smiled, not even glancing away from Zoey for a second.

Before: Make My Kid Stop Screaming dot com


Ashley


We were home for about an hour when Nick said, "I don't know what to do."

We were sitting in the living room and had been since we'd come in the door. I was rocking Zoey gently in Nick's recliner while he laid across the couch, his chin on the arm, staring at me and Zoey, who was sound asleep once again.

"About what?" I asked quietly.

Nick shifted on the couch. "In general. Like she's home. Now what?"

"What do you mean?" I asked. I looked up at him.

"Well... like... I'm kinda bored... but... I dunno... it seems wrong to not lay here and look at her or something," he confessed. I was wondering how long it would take Nick to get bored of sitting still and staring at the baby sleep. He'd never had a very long attention span, so honestly I was amazed it'd taken an entire hour.

"Nick, you don't have to just stare at the baby," I laughed.

He sat up. "But I dunno what else to do."

"Do whatever you'd be doing if she wasn't home yet."

"I'd be at the hospital keeping you company," he said simply.

I laughed, "Do whatever you'd be doing if you weren't keeping me company at the hospital."

He stared at me. "I don't know what I'd be doing."

"Nick, just pretend it's any other day," I laughed.

He leaned back on the couch cushions and stared up at the ceiling. "I'm not good at this," he whined.

"Nick you're perfect at it," I said. "Why don't you play video games or something?"

"But the games have guns in it," he argued.

"So?" I asked, confused.

"So it might scare her."

"She doesn't know what guns are yet, baby," I said. Nick was so adorable when he got like this.

He got up and paced around. He went into the kitchen and a moment later came back with a juice. "Do you want a juice?" he asked.

"No thanks," I replied.

He threw himself down on the couch again and opened the juice, taking a sip, and turned on the TV. As it hummed to life, he glanced over at Zoey and I, then turned back to the TV. He flipped through the channels, pausing here and there to look over at Zoey.

Then I felt inspired with an idea that might help him calm down.

"Hey Nick, can you hold Zoey while I take a shower?"

He looked over, an expression of mixed excitement and terror on his face. "I... yeah," he said slowly.

I stood up and walked over and slid Zoey into his arms. She lay heavily against his chest, waking up for a moment as I let her go, but quickly readjusting to Nick's grasp on her and pressing her chubby little cheek into his collar bone. "I'll be out in a few," I said.

Nick had stopped the TV on Sports Center. I had a feeling my baby was gonna be educated in whatever sport they were showing as soon as I left the room.

"Uh huh," Nick said. He was focused on Zoey again.

The shower felt amazing. It'd been a few days since I'd had a real shower. Before Zoey was born. I lingered as long as I dared to in there, washed my hair twice, and got out, wrapping a towel around my hair to let it dry. When I returned to the living room, I tiptoed so Nick wouldn't know I was coming up behind him.

He was talking to Zoey.

"...and I'll take you there when you get older, so you can see them for yourselves. I don't know what one will be your favorite, but mine's definitely the sharks. Your mother likes the penguins. She's a penguin nutter. You kinda look like you might like a jellyfish or something. Maybe a turtle. Would you like the turtle?"

The TV was muted.

"Maybe when you get old enough and you can take care of it and stuff we'll get you a turtle. You can name it whatever you like. I had a lizard when I was a kid," he continued on, "Which isn't the same as a turtle, really."

I smiled to myself.

I stepped into the kitchen and took a glass out of the cupboard and opened the fridge. I grabbed the milk and, in the process of turning around to the counter to pour it into my glass, it slipped out of my clumsy hands and hit the floor with a loud crushing thump. Milk sprayed everywhere, splashing over my legs and under the stove.

And Zoey began to scream.

Loudly.




NicK

At first I thought for sure I'd broken her somehow.

She started screaming like there was no tomorrow.

Ashley came running out of the kitchen covered in milk from the knees down. "What's the matter? What's wrong?" Ashley gasped, panic in her voice, the towel on her head askew.

"What was that sound?!" I asked over Zoey screaming, my heart pounding.

"I dropped the milk!" Ashley yelled back, "What's wrong with Zoey?"

"I jumped up when I heard the sound," I replied. "She started screaming."

Ashley came over, her face flooded with concern, "Why?"

"I dunno! Did I break her?" I put Zoey into Ashley's arms, and Ashley quickly lowered herself into the couch and inspected Zoey carefully. "I didn't hurt her did I?" I asked again fearfully.

"No, I don't think so," Ashley replied.

"I think I scared her," I said, feeling guilty.

"I think so too," Ashley said, and she laid Zoey across her shoulder and started rubbing her back gently, "It's okay Zozozozo," she hummed, "It's okay. Aw Zoey, shhh. It's okay Zoey, shhh."

I stood there helpless, flapping my arms.

I grabbed pink giraffe from the table beside my recliner and wave it at Zoey. "Look Zozo," I said, making the rattle in the giraffe's body rumble, "Look at pink giraffe."

"Yeah Zozo, look at pink giraffe," Ashley said, turning her so she was in the crook of her arm, looking up at me shaking the giraffe.

Zoey continued screaming.

"Oh Jesus I dunno what to do," I said. Big crocodile tears were falling across Zoey's bright pink cheeks and as if I hadn't felt helpless enough, the tears were like being disarmed. "Zoeeeyyyy," I begged, "Please, you're breakin' my heart kid." I looked up at Ashley, now that the giraffe was obviously not working. "Now whadda we do?" I asked her.

Ashley looked up at me. "Maybe we should've bought a book on parenting!"

"We could Google it?" I suggested.

"With what search term?" Ashley asked.

"I dunno. Think there's a make my kid stop screaming dot com?" I covered my ears. The kid was going super sonic.

"Oh I know!" Ashley held Zoey out to me and I took her and, just like that, she ripped her top off. Ashley held out her arms.

"I don't think showing Zoey your boobies is gonna help," I said, staring, unable to rip my eyes away.

"Why not? It shut you up," she quipped. "And besides, I'm feeding her, not whatever your perverted mind is thinking."

Ashley took Zoey and brought her to her chest. I watched Zoey attach herself to Ashley's breast and the screaming stopped. I blinked. I mean I knew women did this, but I ain't never seen it this, like, close up before. It was weird. Like watching something I shouldn't be or something. I wasn't sure if I was grossed out or turned on or what I was feeling.

Ashley looked up. "She was hungry, poor Zozo." She looked back down for a second, then back up at me. "Are you okay?"

I nodded.

"Nick," Ashley laughed, "You know this is what boobs are actually for."

I nodded again.

"You look like you're watching a hunter disembowel Bambi for crying out loud," she said.

I felt like I was, too.

"I just.. it.. I... I'm gonna go to the ..yeah." I stumbled off to the bathroom.

Ashley called after me, "At least she stopped screaming!"

Before: Here Comes The Sun


Nick

When I came out of the bathroom, I didn't quite dare to go back out to the living room where the all of the breast feeding was happening, so I went in the kitchen and cleaned up the milk that Ashley dropped. Ashley shuffled by a moment later, "I'm gonna put Zoey in her crib then I wanna talk to you," she said as she went past the kitchen door.

I had a feeling I might be in trouble, though I wasn't entirely positive what for.

She came back a moment later with the baby monitor in her hand, just as I was throwing away the last of the paper towels from sopping up the milk from the floor. I armed the Swiffer stick with a wet towelette and swiped it across the floor. Ashley leaned against the door frame and watched. "There is nothing sexier than a man cleaning the floor," she commented.

I turned like a provocative model and stuck one finger on my lower lip. I had a feeling I was more Zoolander than risque model. She laughed. "You're such a freak."

"You're the one getting turned on by a slob with a Swiffer," I said.

Ashley stepped into the kitchen and took the Swiffer out of my hands, pushed it away, and pulled me close to her. "I lied, there is something sexier than a man with a Swiffer."

"What's that?" I asked, staring down at her.

"A man with a baby as cute as Zozo," she replied.

"Even if he sucks at being a father? And freaks out when you try to breast feed her?"

"Oh Nickolas," Ashley smirked, "Especially then."

"So you're saying I suck?"

Ashley's eyes glittered, "You don't... but I might."

"But Dr. Jorryn said..." I trailed off.


"I didn't say..." Ashley trailed off too, then raised her eyebrows.

"Oh, you mean...?"

"Mmhm."

Ashley and I went in the bedroom and she pushed me back onto the bed and came over, leaning over me. She kissed my neck and pushed my shirt up, her hands running across my chest. My heart pounded with excitement. I mean, this is the shit that we guys dream about, you know? And it was fuckin' Ashley doing it to me. It was like my dream come true. Literally. When I was twelve, my first wet dream had featured Ashley. I don't know why that never tipped me off to my feelings about her. But I was dumb then and now I just was so floored by the fact that this was happening...

Ashley unbuckled my belt and slid it out of the loops of my pants. She tossed it to the side and straddled me, leaned down and kissed my chest in a trail right down the center, to my belly button and onward to the waist of my jeans, which she unbuttoned and unzipped and pulled way. My jeans hit the floor and she ran her hands up my sides and back down, hooking her fingers over the waistband of my boxer-briefs. She leaned down and I closed my eyes, every nerve in my body stretching to that one spot, waiting for her to make contact...

And then the baby monitor went off.

And Zoey was crying.

Ashley looked up at me, like a deer caught in headlights, unsure what to do. Ashley started to lean back in again, and then Zoey let out a particularly wild, desperate sounding shriek and Ashley jumped up, "Nick I'm sorry, I can't ignore her," and she bolted out of the room, calling, "I'll be right back! I promise! Don't move!"

I held my breath. "Oh shiiiit," I groaned.




Ashley

I scooped Zoey up out of the crib and tucked her against me, rubbing her back like they do in the movies. Confession time: I've never been around babies before. I was just as clueless as Nick when it came to how to take care of them or what to do when they cried. Having been in a group home or whatever you'd think I might've seen a baby or two but I never did because everyone in the home was at least six before they moved in. And I'd never stayed with a foster family with kids or anything like that. The closest to contact with a baby I'd ever been was when the other Backstreet Boys had their kids, and even then I didn't really see a lot of Brian or Howie's kids, and I didn't even meet Mason until Kevin went on the cruise in 2011. So my big experience with babies was Ava, and there was so much turbulance going on with Nick and I during that time that I really hardly even saw her.

So this was all new to me. That's my point.

I shuffled through the papers Dr. Jorryn had given me to see if there was anything in them about what to do when she cried. I bounced her gently arm to arm, but she just kept on crying.

A good twenty minutes passed while she cried and I moved her arm to arm and read the papers. Nick came in the room, buttoning his jeans. "Oh sweetie I'm sorry," I said, frowning.

"It's a'iight. Lemme see her." He held out his arms, and I dropped Zoey into them. She continued screaming, and I started flipping through the pages of Dr. Jorryn's Baby Manual as I was now going to start calling it. Nick meanwhile was rocking her gently side to side, staring at her.

"I dunno what to do," I whimpered.

Nick rubbed her back, "Did she burp?"

"I don't know."

He started patting her back gently in a rhythm. She sounded like a teeny tiny bongo. "Little darlin' it's been a long cold, lonely winter... oh little darlin'... it feels like years since it's been here... here comes the sun.... here comes the sun... and I say, it's all right..."

I looked up from Dr. Jorryn's notes and watched as Nick paced in a circle around the room, rocking, patting, and singing to the crying baby as he went.

"Little darlin'... the smiles returning to the faces... little darlin' it seems like years since it's been here... here comes the sun, doo-do-doo-dooo, here comes the suuuun and IIIIIIII sayyyyy... it's all riiiiight..." He was getting more and more into it, and Zoey's cries were getting quieter. He moved a little faster, the rocking becoming more like soft, gentle dancing. "Suuuuuuuuuun, suuuuuuuuuuuun, suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuun heeeeere it cooooomes," he sang in a falsetto, "Suuuuuuuuuuuuuun, suuuuuuuuuuuuun, suuuuuuuuuuuuuuun here it cooooooooomes..."

Zoey had officially stopped crying.

"It's all right... it's all right..." Nick finished. He looked up at me, grinning, then looked back down at Zoey, just in time for her to stretch theatrically and let out a belch. "Oh how very ladylike," he said, chuckling. He looked back up at me, and his eyes glittered.

"You, sir, are a miracle worker," I said.

Nick's eyes twinkled.

I walked over and hugged him so we were like a little family sandwich and I kissed Zoey. Then, looking up at Nick, I said, "I didn't mean to leave you hanging before..."

"Yeah hanging was the opposite of what I was doing," Nick muttered. "You stiffed me is more like it."

"I didn't mean to stiff you, baby," I said, but the smirk playing on his face at the innuendo was proof enough that he wasn't upset with me. I blinked up at him, trying to look innocent, "I hope you don't... hold it against me..."

"I'll hold it against you a'ight," he said, "And various other things. In a month and a half you better just be prepared because man am I comin' at you."

"You're gonna come at me, huh?" I asked.

Nick wiggled his eyebrows, "Oh yeah."

"You sound like the Kool Aid guy," I said.

Nick laughed.

"I love you, Nickolas."

"I love you, too."

After: Favorite Memory


Ashley

The rest of the day was a blurry mess of noise and colors. I sat, catatonic, staring straight ahead. The kids were talking, Zoey and Oliver arguing like usual and Leslie was painting Presley's fingernails while Steve Perry rolled with her belly up trying to get one of them to rub her. The house had an odd quietness to it, and I found myself glancing at Nick's chair, like I expected a sound to come from it, like I expected him to wake up over there and throw his two cents into everything that was going on.

"Ma..." Oliver's hand was on my shoulder, "Ma, do you want anything to drink? Coffee? Tea?"

I shook my head.

"Can I get you anything at all?" he asked.

I shook my head again.

Presley looked up from her seat on the floor next to Leslie. "We could do your nails, mummy," she suggested, holding up the sparkly purple polish she and Leslie were painting on one another.

I shook my head.

Zoey sat down next to me. "Do you wanna talk?"

I looked at her, my baby girl, and for a moment I remembered her teeny tiny and oh-so-pink, clutched against Nick's chest as he sang the Beatles to her, dancing around her nursery. For just a moment, I could hear him, smell him, feel his presence as strongly as I could that day in the nursery. My heart about burst. What I wouldn't do to hear, smell, and feel him again right this moment. Anything. Anything in the world.

"I just... miss him so desperately," I choked the words out.

Leslie moved so she was looking up at me, and Presley pouted out her lip. Zoey took my hand, and Oliver sat down in Nick's chair, the perfect image of what Nick had looked like almost sixty years before. I felt tears creep out of my eyes, "Oh Jesus, I just can't believe he's gone," I said hoarsely. "I don't know how to cope with losing him."

"I'm sorry, mummy," Zoey whispered, and she rubbed her hand across the back of my hand and I stared down at the folds and linees of her skin, skin that was so shocking to me because I remembered when she was tiny and perfect and smooth as could be, and I remember getting lines and wrinkles like she had now, and I remembered when my lines and wrinkles were way more than lines and wrinkles and more like deep grooves and folds. Nick had told me everyday when I put on the anti-aging creame in the mirror you don't need that, you're perfect, but I'd done it anyway. Now, he wasn't here to tell me that.

I looked up at them, "I met your father seventy years ago," I said, my voice shaking. I looked down at my hands. "And I loved him for every single moment of all of those years."

Leslie rested her head against my knee.

"He was such a good man," I whispered.

"Daddy was the best," Presley said thickly.

I nodded.

Oliver shook his head, his adam's apple bobbing. "It isn't fair," he choked the words, and the three girls looked over at him. It was so rare Oliver showed emotion in front of them, he was usually so tough, but I'd seen him break down many a time they never knew about. He'd always come to me when he hurt, and I could recognize the anguish on his face. "Dad didn't even do anything," he said, he shook his head, "It's not right."

Zoey let out a trembling breath.

We were quiet in the wake of Oliver's words.

"What's your favorite memory of Daddy?" Presley asked.

We were all quiet again, formulating our answers. My heart ached. Then Leslie spoke up, "He used to tell me stories, when I had nightmares. He'd come in and chase off the closet monsters and tell me stories about a great big dog in the woods named Steve Perry that protected children from nightmares..." Leslie looked down at the black lab and smiled, reaching out and rubbing her belly.

"My favorite was that time when we took that trip to Australia and Dad fell off the boat," Oliver smirked, "Remember that, mum? You were screaming at him because he was showing off trying to do something to the sail and the wind caught the boom and it knocked him right off into the water."

Zoey cracked up, "Then he pulled mum in when she tried to get him back onto the boat."

"That was terrifying," I laughed. "I thought there were sharks in the water."

"Remember the time he got us all up in the middle of the night and drove all the way to North Carolina?" Presley said, "And Zoey got in trouble because the only bathing suit she owned was a bikini and daddy said it made her look like a hooker?"

"Remember the Dating My Daughters Is a Hazard To Your Well Being shirt?" Leslie piped up.

Oliver snorted, "I remember the time he made me follow Presley around the mall on her first date."

"What!?" Presley shrieked, "Nuh-uh!"

"Yep, he paid me thirty bucks to do it," Oliver laughed.

"What about you, mummy?" Zoey asked, turning to me, "What's your favorite memory of Daddy?" she asked.

I felt my throat swell.

"The look on his face when my father walked me down the aisle on our wedding day," I replied without hesitation.




Nick

The moment that I realized I'd died was the strangest moment I've ever had - either in this life or in the previous one.

I was on the tour bus and I was thinking about the tour dates and trying to count back concerts to figure out how long it'd been since I'd been home, and try to figure out how many dates I had left on the tour before I'd be home again. I looked through the calendar and I couldn't remember the month or the day or even the time of year it was and it left an unsettled feeling somewhere in the pit of my stomach. And then my cell phone had rung and it was a voicemail from Ashley.

"The kids and I talked for hours today about our favorite memories of you," she was saying, "They have so many... and so don't I... and it occurred to me that you and I, we did okay, didn't we, Nick? Considering we started out two kids from the wrong side of the tracks, two kids who nobody ever thought would go anywhere. And we have such beautiful children, Nick, you gave me such a wonderful family, and a wonderful marriage. I was so blessed, so lucky, to have you in my life. I could never thank you enough for everything. Seventy years of knowing you, forty-two years of being your wife, it wasn't enough. I wanted forever. I miss you so much, it breaks my heart. Good night, my love."

My mouth felt so dry after hearing those words.

I got up and went to the bathroom mirror, my hands shaking. I looked into it, and I didn't look a day over thirty. It was the first time I'd really seen myself, the first time I'd bothered looking. It occurred to me that I was moving a lot better, more nimbly, than I had in years. It occurred to me that my skin was smoother and my hair was thick and heavy on my head. I was young and verile and handsom again.

I ran my hands over my face. My scar was gone.

"Oh God," I whispered.

I hurried back to the cell phone and tried to call Ashley back. I had to tell her that I loved her just once more, she had to know, she had to hear it. I wasn't supposed to die before her, I was supposed to die with her, peacefully, in our sleep years and years and years and years from now, when we were hundreds, maybe even thousands of years old.

But try as I might, I learned in that moment that my cell phone couldn't call out, that it was a one way communication, just her prayers reaching me across time and space.

I curled myself into a chair, hugging my knees to my chest, burying my face in my arms.

I wondered how I'd died and if I would be stuck here, forever on tour, always anticipating going home to Ashley, for the rest of eternity.

Before: Jason's Call


Nick

It took no time at all for Ashley and I to fall into a routine with Zoey. We took turns cleaning and taking care of her. Changing diapers, while not exactly enjoyable, was not as awful as it'd been when I was a kid, helping my mom change the twins' diapers. I understood at long last what AJ was talking about when he'd said Ava's poop didn't smell as bad as he'd thought it would when he'd imagined doing diapers. Something about it being your kid really makes poop smell like roses, I guess.

Even if, biologically, she wasn't mine.

We were learning all her little sounds, the faces she made, the gurgles and coos and the ways she waved her arms when she wanted certain things. For example, when she pooped she made a face like she was Mr. Magoo, and when she wanted food she screamed a particular note that was different than that which she screamed in when she just wanted to be picked up. We learned when she woke up after napping she needed to be sung to in order to calm her down to sleep again, and I learned her favorite ones were Here Comes the Sun, I'm A Believer, and Brown Eyed Girl.

Hell, I even got used to Ashley whipping out her breasts every couple hours to feed Zoey.

All in all, we were doing really good. When we went to visit Dr. Jorryn for a check-up, he said Zoey was beautiful, healthy, and developing just the way he'd hoped she would be when he saw us again.

What none of us were prepared for was the call I got from Jason on the third week that Ashley and Zoey had been home.

"Hey Nick, it's Jason, give me a call when you get this, it's important."

I stood staring at the answering machine. Ashley and I had taken Zoey out for a walk at the park in her stroller and I'd missed the initial phone call. I played the message again while Ashley was undoing Zoey from the stroller in the other room. I picked up my cell phone as Ashley walked by the kitchen door, "Be right out, I'm gonna put Zozo to bed," she said as she went by.

"Sure," I answered.

When I heard the nursery door close, I pulled my cell phone out and called Jason.

"Jason Turner," he answered on the fourth ring.

"Hey Jase, it's Nick," I said. I leaned against the counter, bracing myself with my free hand. "I just got your message, what's up?"

He was quiet a second. "Hey," he said. Pause. Long pause. "One second."

I waited. I heard him excuse himself from someone and then a door closed on his end and he said, "Have you been contacted by lawyers representing Chris Stensby?" he asked.

"No," I replied. I realized I hadn't heard anything at all since that day when Officers Bryant and Dexter were at the hospital in Ashley's room and we'd initially talked about everything. I'd been so wrapped up with Zoey and normalizing our lives that I'd almost completely forgotten about Chris altogether. "Why, what's going on?" I asked.

"If you're contacted by anyone from his law teams, family, friends -- anybody -- you refuse to talk, you hear me?" Jason's voice was firm.

"What? Why? What's going on?"

"He's trying to slip a loop hole in the justice system," Jason explained, "Basically it protects men from being falsely accused by women..."

"The mutual abuse clause," I said, words I'd heard from the officers at Ashley's bedside.

"Right." Jason sighed, "Nick, he's claiming you beat the ever-lovin' shit out of him."

"I only did what I had to do to literally save Ashley's life," I said, "And even as it was, she almost died because of internal bleeding damages that he caused her. She almost lost the baby."

Jason's voice was level, "Nick, I know and understand that but the fact is Chris has photographic evidence of bruises and cuts when he was booked at the police department the night Ashley was admitted to the hospital and he was arrested, and he claims you gave them to him and that prior abuse charges are incorrect and that Ashley was falsely accusing him."

"Well he doesn't hold water with that claim, there's records of her being admitted to the hospital back around her birthday, when she first moved in here with me. They took pictures, they filed a case then. He shot my dog."

Jason took a deep breath, "Nick, he's claiming that he's being accused by Ashley and you for things that you did to her."

This took a long moment to sink in. But when it did, when my mind worked through what Jason was saying, what he meant, I felt anger, red hot and volatile, rush into my system. "Wait. He - he what? What?"

"I'm just telling you what's going on, Nick. So, for your own good, I need you to not comment on anything that you are asked by lawyers or anyone else about this thing -- at all."

Ashley came into the room, smiling and pulling her hair into a ponytail. She got one look at me and her smile melted away. Her brow creased with worry. "Who is it?" she mouthed.

"Jason," I mouthed back.

Her brow creased further.

"Do you understand me, Nick?" Jason asked, "Like really understand me?"

"Yeah," I said, "I think so."

"Good," Jason said.

"What do you think is gonna happen with all this?" I asked, "Realistically, I mean."

Jason was quiet a long moment. "I don't think it'll end up going too far, to be honest, if you kee your mouth shut," he said slowly, "But I also don't see Chris staying in jail."

A sick feeling crawled through me.




Ashley

I could tell without Nick even saying a word to me that whatever Jason was saying was not good. I hovered, waiting, wondering, nervous as hell. Nick finally thanked Jason for the call, hung up, and he put his hands over his face, taking a deep breath and letting it out in a long streaming sigh. My palms started to sweat. "Nick," I asked tentatively, "What's going on?"

Nick lowered his hands from his face, his scar bright against his pale-from-nerves face. "Chris is pressing assault charges on me," he said.

"That's bullshit," I snapped, "He can't. You were defending me."

"I know," Nick said thickly.

"But there's proof you were defending me," I said, "I was all beat up when we got there. Dr. Jorryn saw that much."

Nick hesitated.

"There's proof I'd been beat up before," I added, "And you defended me then, too, you came to my rescue."

Nick's eyes met mine. "Ashley, he's trying to... turn it a little."

"What do you mean? That stupid mutual abuse clause? Because I punched him a couple times?" I felt raw in my throat.

Nick's voice was careful, slow. "He's just... pulling bullshit." Nick shook his head, "It's not a big deal, Ashley. Jason will take care of it."

"But what does this mean? Officer Bryant and Officer Dexter seemed to think Chris could get out of jail if that clause was invoked." I stared up at him. He didn't react. He just licked his lips and took another deep breath. I felt my heart rate climb. "Nick, he isn't free is he?"

Nick rubbed the back of his neck, "Not yet."

I had to fight the urge to run into Zoey's room and scoop her up and make sure she was safe. A thousand and one possibilities ran through my head: the back slider door, the easy-to-pop-open garage window, bedroom windows... They were all ways for Chris to get in without us ever knowing it.

"I'll fucking kill him!"

The words rang through my memory so vividly I could still feel the steamy air from the shower I'd run to hide speaking to him that day - that day, just before I agreed to negotiate with him - the day Zoey was born.

I looked up at Nick, and though I tried to formulate words for what I was feeling, nothing was coming out. I trembled. Nick opened up his arms and I stepped into them, pressing myself against his chest, closing my eyes. He closed his arms around me and put his face down in my hair. I laid my cheek against his chest and let the feeling and smell and sound of him fill my senses. His heart beat in my ear, slightly off from a perfect rhythm. "I'm so terrified, but you make me feel safe," I said into his shirt.

"Don't be terrified, baby. I'm here and I will do anything and everything in my power to keep you and Zoey safe," he said. I could feel his mouth moving as he spoke. "You know that."

I nodded.

"I'm here, baby, I'm here, and I ain't never gonna let him hurt you again."

And I believed him because he was Nick and I knew he would never let me down.

Before: Daddy's Girl


Ashley

That night, Nick and I sat in the living room. I was sitting cross-legged on the couch, Nick's laptop on the cushion in front of me, reading a website on how to go about obtaining an annullment. I was downloading forms and reading about the requirements, making sure I would qualify, when I noticed the title of one of the forms. A petition for child custody. I looked over at Zoey and Nick. Nick was sprawled on his stomach on the floor with Zoey on a blanket on her belly, rattling toys around and making weird noises that made Zoey laugh. The thought of even having to fill out a form to ask for custody scared the daylights out of me.

I needed to get these forms filled out as quickly as possible so that there was no chance in him filing first. I didn't have a clue if that would make a difference on the likelihood of who won custody, but just in case speed was a deciding factor, I didn't want to take any chances. I hit the print button on the PDF file and an error screen popped up.

"How do you print on this thing?" I asked.

"Hit the print button," Nick said.

"Thanks, Genius," I said, "I did that, though, and it's giving me a weird error."

Nick blew a raspberry and Zoey shrieked with laughter. He pushed himself up and crawled over on his hands and knees to me, kneeling beside me and leaning to look at the computer. "Oh we're outta ink, that's why," he said. He clicked the error message and made it go away. "Here, print it on my office printer..." he clicked around then hit the print button again and it went through without an error. "There ya go. What'cha printin'?"

"Forms petitioning for an annullment," I answered.

Nick's face was somewhere between a smile and trying to keep a straight face. "You okay?" he asked cautiously.

"Oh no, I'm all broken up inside, what on earth will I ever do without Chris?" I said dryly.

Nick's smile won out and he laughed, and crawled back to Zoey. "It's okay, you know," he said, "If you're not okay," he clarified. "I mean, you were married to the guy, you did go through a lot with him."

"Yeah and then he beat me until I almost died and he almost killed my beautiful little girl," I answered, "I'm perfectly fine."

"Okay. Well I'm just saying that if you aren't for some reason, I understand." He flopped back down on his belly on the floor and rested his chin on his hands and stared at Zoey. "Hewwow," he said in a baby voice, "Hewwow Zozooo..."

I got up and went to get the prints from Nick's office, which was really his studio. The last time I'd been in the room was the night of his plane crash, when I'd sent the stuff on his desk flying into even more of a disarray than it'd already been in, trying to figure out where he'd gone. I stood at the desk and picked up my sheets of paper from the printer and my eye landed on a notebook, the cover folded back so the sheet he'd been working on was up. Across the top of the page he'd written For Zoey then underlined it. Below, were music and lyrics.

I picked it up and stared down at it, my throat catching, and I carried it down the stairs with me.

"Nick, what's this?" I asked, reentering the living room.

Nick looked up. His face turned red. "Just... something I was working on the other night when Zoey wouldn't sleep..." he replied.

I put my forms down on the coffee table and sat down next to him on the floor. "Is it really a song for Zoey?" I asked.

Zoey gurbled on the floor and waved her arms. I handed the notebook to Nick, then picked her up off the floor and held her on my lap.

Nick nodded shyly, "Yeah," he said, "Kinda."

"I wanna hear it," I said.

"It isn't done yet," he argued.

I shook my head, "I don't care, I wanna hear it."

He laughed, "You're impatient." But he jumped up nimbly, "Let me get my guitar." He disappeared from the room.

I looked at Zoey, "You've been holding out on me, girlfriend," I said, tilting her so she was looking up at me, "You gotta hook your momma up when daddy sings a new song, yes you do."

Nick came back a moment later, his guitar slung over his shoulder, a pick bitten between his teeth. He strummed a little, adjusting the strings, tuning the instrument. I lifted Zoey and myself up and sat back on the couch as Nick lowered himself to the very edge of the recliner, resting the notebook so that the page stared up at him from the coffee table.

"Okay," he said, "Now keep in mind, this is really rough still, and... well, I haven't done this in awhile, so I'm outta practice. Plus it's kinda cheesy."

"Oh hush. Play the song," I said.

Nick laughed. He cleared his throat, glanced at the notebook, closed his eyes, and put his fingers on the strings of the guitar. There was a pause, then he started playing.

The notes rang out in the living room, jumping, bubbly things, and he strung them together with a couple "yeah, yeahs" and "oh, ohs", then paused strumming and sang, "I never thought I could feel this way... Never dreamed love could come this natural... But the first time that I saw you... It was head over heels, over the moon, I fell... And it keeps getting stronger... Your gravity is pulling my whole world... Oh don't you know it, Zoey... You're daddy's girl..."

I felt breathless, listening to him, my heart thumping. Zoey grinned up at him. He looked over at her, and a smile spread across his face as he sang, "And you're beautiful... Your smile, your red hair and those eyes... Baby, you're beautiful... Like a summer night with fireflies... I hope you always have that same laugh, hope you always let people take your photograph... Always dance in the rain, and I pray you never feel any pain... but if you do... yeah, Daddy's gonna be right there for you... Your gravity is pulling my whole world... Mmm, yeah, don't you know it, Zoey... You're daddy's girl... You'll always be... Daddy's little girl."

The last note of the guitar faded and I sat there, compeltely unable to breathe.

He put the guitar down, ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah, see it's lame."

"Fuck no it isn't," I gasped.

"Fluff," he corrected me.

I felt tears in my eyes. "That was beautiful."

He turned red in the face and held out his arms for Zoey, who I handed back to him. He hugged her close, "If it is, it's only beautiful 'cos it's about a beautiful thing..." he said quietly, looking down at her.

Seriously. Could the man be more perfect? Seriously?




Nick

"So now that you've filled out the forms for the annulment, now what?" I asked. I'd just put Zoey down in the crib and I was fiddling with the settings on the baby monitor. Ashley had spent the afternoon filling out all the info the forms required.

She was staring at the forms, which she'd piled on the coffee table. "We have to serve them"

"Serve them?"

"Yeah," she nodded, "Someone, not me, has to deliver the papers to him."

"Who's gonna do that?"

"We can hire someone or have a friend or someone do it."

I scratched my head and put the monitor down on the table next to Ashley's paperwork. "Maybe AJ could do it."

"Maybe. Is he in town?"

"I dunno."

Ashley put her chin in her hands and stared down at the papers.

I reached over and rubbed her back gently. "It's gonna be okay, baby," I said.

"What if he gets out, Nick?" she asked.

"Then he gets out."

"What if he comes here again?"

I was afraid of that, too, so I wasn't sure how to answer her. I ran my hand down her spine gently. "I don't know, baby."

"What if he comes for Zoey?" She looked up at me.

I shifted. "He's gonna hafta go through me."

Ashley leaned into me and we both leaned back into the couch. I rubbed her arm. "You're a good man," she said, nestling against me.

I kissed her head. "Remember when you thought I was an asshole?" I asked.

Ashley laughed, "You were an asshole," she said.

"I still am, you're just disillusioned," I said.

"Oh am I? So one day I'm gonna wake up and you're gonna be a pumpkin again?"

"Yeah, pretty much. Then you're gonna tell me to get the hell away from you and throw me out on my ass."

Ashley laughed so hard she snorted. "I hate you, you're such a bastard," she laughed.

"I know."

She snuggled deeper into my chest. "Hold me."

"I am."

"Hold me tighter."

"I don't think I can," I laughed.

"Do you ever love someone so much you wanna just... merge with them?"

"I'd love to merge with you, but it's only been three and a half weeks," I answered.

Ashley laughed. "You make everything perverted."

"It's a talent of mine. You should know this by now," I answered, bending forward to press a kiss onto the bridge of her nose.

Before: Calling for Favors


Nick

"You regretting not coming on tour with us yet, Frack?" AJ chanted as he answered his phone two days later. I'd been trying to get a hold of him to talk about serving Chris, but he was a lot harder to get in touch with these days.

"Tour with y'all and miss Zoey gettin' bigger? Nawh, I don't think so. You guys aren't as cute as her, sorry," I said.

"Well damn I can tell I've been replaced," AJ said with a sigh. "So how's Zoey anyway? When the hell do I get to meet her?"

I laughed, "When are you back in town?"

"Tomorrow, actually. We got a couple weeks' break before heading out again."

"Well come on by then," I said, "I actually had some stuff I wanted to talk to you about. I have a favor I need."

"A favor, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Like I owe you a fuckin' favor," AJ snorted.

I laughed, "Didn't you get the memo? You love doing shit for me."

"I must've missed that memo."

"Maybe you should pay more attention."

"So what's the favor?" AJ sounded wary.

I cleared my throat, "Well, Ashley filled out the forms for a request for annullment and the papers need to be served to Chris by a third party." I paused.

AJ was quiet for a long moment. I got the feeling he was purposely not catching on to what I was asking of him.

"AJ."

"Yes?"

"That's the favor."

"Yeah. About that."

"What?"

AJ cleared his throat, "Look. Chris is... fucking psychotic. He's horse shit. He's a wart on the ass of humanity."

"A wart on the ass of humanity. Wow," I said. I couldn't help but laugh. "Wow."

"Dude, he is. And God knows humanity is a pretty dirty, fucked up piece of ass. And I for one do not wish to piss off a wart on that ass. A wart on that ass that is pissed off is like opening the flood gates of hell and begging for wrath. I ain't treadin' on that water, dude, I'm sorry."

I sighed. I really couldn't argue with AJ's logic. "I get it, man, it's a'ight. We'll find someone else to do it."

"I still get to see the baby, yes?" AJ asked.

"No, mother fucker, you don't serve the papers and you can't see the baby, that's final."

"Awesome. Ro and I will drop by tomorrow around six. We'll bring Ava. They can play or something."

"Sounds good."

"Peace."

AJ hung up and I sighed, leaning back into my recliner and closing my eyes.

Ashley called out from the kitchen, "Nick, dinner's almost ready."

I got up and tossed my phone onto the coffee table, and walked out to the kitchen. Ashley had made shepherd's pie and the kitchen smelled like meat and potatoes and veggies and deliciousness and she was putting dishes up on the bar counter and glasses. I came up behind her, pulling her back first into me. I put my chin on her shoulder. "I could eat you up," I said, fake-biting her shoulder.

"I'm not dinner," she laughed.

"Damn. You taste good."

Ashley spun in my arms and put her hands on my chest. "Did you get to talk to AJ?" I nodded. "And?"

"He said no," I said. "But he's bringing Rochelle and Ava over tomorrow night to see Zoey."

"He said no?" Ashley asked, surprised.

"He says he doesn't want to mess with humanity's ass wart."

"What?"

"You know AJ's creative with dialogue," I answered. I let my arms drop from around Ashley and pulled open the stove, peeking in at the sweet-potato covered meaty goodness baking inside. I closed it and looked back at Ashley, "I'll ask the other fellas and if none of'em wanna do it then we'll call and hire someone."

"Okay." Ashley held out potholders, "Here, take the thingy out of the oven and I'll get the rest of the stuff out of the fridge." She proceeded to pull out milk, sour cream, and a salad.

I pulled the shepherd's pie out and put it on the stove top. I picked a piece of potato off the corner and ate it. Ashley caught me and hit my hand, "Don't pick," she said.

I made a face. "Meanie."

"Nickolas, go sit over there and wait."

I laughed and sat at the bar while Ashley spooned out servings of the shepherd's pie.




Ashley

The next day Nick called Howie, Kevin, and finally Brian. Of the four other Backstreet Boys I honestly had thought that Kevin and AJ were the only ones with balls enough to attempt to serve Chris the annullment papers. But I was surprised when Nick reported back the results of his phone calls to me over a lunch of chicken salad sandwiches. "Brian says he'll serve Chris the papers."

"What?" I looked up, shocked, "Brian is gonna do it?"

"Yeah. He was kinda eager, actually."

"You're... shushing... me," I said, glancing over at Zoey, who was gurgling at us from the carrying portion of her car seat, which we'd put up on the counter next to us. She was staring at us with her wide, globe-shaped eyes and chewing on pink giraffe's head, drooling all over his antler things. "I never would've believed Brian would want to do it."

Nick shrugged, "Brian said it'd be nice to be the server instead of the servee."

"Did he actually get the divorce from you-know-who?" I asked. Leighanne was never my favorite of the Backstreet Women. When she and Brian first started going out, Nick had hated her ever lovin' guts and that feeling had been passed on to me just by association when Nick so that when I first met her it was very hard to be unbiased and actually judge her according to how she treated me. Then she'd found out that I was Nick's "wingman" and that I'd never hit on any of the Backstreet Boys before, and asked me if I was secretly a lesbian.

I'd called her The Bitch for years. You Know Who was my code word. Since Zoey was there and all. Much like fluff had become a code word.

"Yeah," Nick said, "They finalized that awhile ago now."

I took a deep breath. "The end of an era."

"Bye-bye era," Nick muttered. He stuffed a huge bite of chicken salad sandwich into his mouth.

"So he's gonna serve the papers, huh?"

"Yup," Nick's mouth was full and a piece of celery snuck out and hit the counter. He scooped it up and stuck it back in his mouth. Moments like that made me remember that Nick is a gross boy and not an angel after all.

I looked at Zoey, who had thrown pink giraffe as her dad ate prechewed celery off the counter. I picked pink giraffe up and put it back onto Zoey's lap.

"I'm gonna go with him," Nick said around his sandwich.

I looked back at Nick. "What? Why?"

"Because it's Brian. He's liable to get to the prison and freeze up or something. He's a bit neurotic if you haven't noticed."

I remembered quite vividly this one time in a car with Brian where he'd been driving in midafternoon traffic and it was like reliving the scene in Clueless when Cher and Dionne get on the highway by mistake and scream for a solid three minutes.

Neurotic was a good word for Brian.

"I just don't like the idea of you being that close in proximity to Chris," I said.

"He's behind bars, Ashley, what's the guy gonna do?" Nick said with a laugh.

"I dunno, it's Chris. He probably has some kind of creepy Vulcan power or something. Or like that mind thing like Darth Vadar." I pinched my fingers together.

Nick laughed. "It turns me on so much that you can make Star Wars references."

"You know I love that movie."

Nick grinned, "I know. You're amazing like that."

I laughed. "Because I love Star Wars."

"Well not many hot women like Star Wars," he said, "It's like a ratio thing. Hotness and Star Wars fandom don't usually rise at the same time on the lady scale. You are a defiance to nature."

I stuck out my tongue.

"Hey, keep that where it belongs," he said, "Or I'll make you use it."

"Soon enough, Carter."

"Oh baby."

I laughed. And when I did, Zoey mimicked me, tossing her giraffe yet again out of her lap and onto the counter. Nick grinned and picked up the giraffe and handed it back to her. "Look at you, already laughing at daddy's dirty jokes," I said, shaking my head. "I dunno Nick, we have a wild one here."

Nick's eyes twinkled, "Just like her momma."

After: Mr. Conspiracy Theory


Ashley

That night, I laid in bed staring up at the ceiling. The kids were all up in Leslie's room right next door; I could hear them discussing everything through paper-thin walls, especially Oliver's booming voice, which loomed over the girls' smaller ones. "I just don't think we're getting the whole story from Mum," he was saying when they first moved from the living room into Leslie's room, "I just feel like there's something being... held back, like she doesn't trust us knowing everything or something."

"Maybe some things are just private, Oliver," Zoey said.

"He was my father," Oliver said, "I deserve to know exactly what happened."

"Maybe you only think you do," Zoey answered.

Leslie's voice was firm, "I agree with Oliver, I want to know what happened. Exactly what happened."

"Maybe mummy really doesn't know," Presley said.

"Of course she knows," Leslie said. "Don't be stupid."

"I'm not being stupid," Presley snapped.

"She talks to you almost every day," Oliver said, "She tells you everything."

"She hardly tells me everything," Zoey answered.

"She does so," Oliver replied.

"Don't exaggerate."

"I work with the doctor that performed the autopsy on Dad," Leslie said, "And he said the bullet shifted and that's what killed him."

"I want to know who put the bullet in him to begin with is what I wanna know," Oliver said.

There was a long pause, and I imagined them all sitting, staring at Zoey. I hugged Nick's shirt closer to my face. The shirt was beginning to lose his smell. At least I think it was. It was either fading or I was forgetting that it was the smell that belonged to him. One of the two. I closed my eyes.

"It doesn't matter," Zoey said, "The bullet was there, that's all that matters. Dad died, that's all that matters. Mumma's in pieces, that's what matters."

"I feel so bad," Presley said.

"Mum is strong," Oliver said.

"She's old, Oliver, if you haven't noticed," Zoey said. "Do you know how many people die after losing their soulmate like this just from a broken heart?"

"Oh Zoey don't talk about mummy dying," pleaded Presley.

"Zoey's right. A lot of people pine to death once they've lost the love of their life. Mum and Dad were so close, it's hard to imagine them not together. Mum's pining." Leslie's voice was authoritative.

"She's not gonna die, stop being dramatic," Oliver said.

"You stop being dramatic, Mr. Conspiracy Theory," said Zoey hotly.

Oliver sighed. "Why don't you just tell us whatever it is she's keeping from us?" he demanded.

Zoey's voice was really heated now. "Because, somethings are just mum's to tell and it's none of your damn business if she doesn't tell you herself. That's why." There was a thumping of angry footfalls, then the bedroom door creaked open and slammed shut and I heard Zoey walk down the hall and slam her own bedroom door.

"Like I said, dramatic," said Oliver.

I rolled out of bed and slid on my slippers and pulled Nick's old robe around my shoulders. It took me a couple moments to sneak out of the room, not wanting the kids to know I'd been listening in, and I tip toed quietly down the hallway to Zoey's room. When I got there, I found her on the window seat, hugging her knees. It'd been years since Zoey had sat at that window seat. It was still covered with the same stuffed animals and the same quilt that Rochelle had bought for her as a little girl. She looked up as I came in the room, tears glistened in her eyes. I walked over and lowered myself onto the window seat beside her.

She looked up at me. "I miss him, mummy," she whispered.

"I know," I said, and I held out my arms and she scooted over, her body so much larger and more filled out than she'd been last time we'd done this. She laid her head on my chest and her eyes streamed into my neck. "I know, I feel the same way." I rubbed her back gently.

Zoey looked up at me, the rims of her eyes bright red. "Do you think he can see us, mumma?"

"Yes," I said without even a moment's pause, "Yes I do."

Zoey sniffled. Then, pulling away, her eyes solemn with fear, she asked, "When Daddy was shot," she said slowly, "Was it because of me?"

I shook my head.

Although that wasn't entirely true.




Nick

I couldn't feel hurt or pain or anything akin to it. I couldn't feel that I missed Ashley, but I knew it. I knew that things would be better with her there, though I couldn't feel that they were not good without her. But again, I knew it.

Once I'd realized what was wrong with me, where I was, what was happening, I didn't go out on the stage again. I didn't have the performance in me. I didn't even want to sing. Not without Ashley. So I sat on the tour bus, the figment of my imagination tour bus, and spent my time trying to disprove it. I opened every drawer, every cupboard, even the tank of the toilet, trying to find some place there was a worm hole, some place that I forgot the detail on that would be nothing. But every part of the "heaven" I inhabited was finely constructed.

I wondered how far my heaven would go, if I could control where my tour bus was.

I wondered if there was a place that I could go in this heavenly tour bus that could afford me a view of Ashley, the way peering through the mists of Niagra Falls had allowed me to see her. It seemed that the more I wondered it, the stronger my need became, the more urgent. I didn't know why or how or when, I just knew that I had to see her.

That was the day that I started heading home.

Home to Ashley.

Before: Dear Ashley


Nick

AJ showed up promptly at six with Rochelle by his side, Ava on his hip. Rochelle held up a bag. "I come bearing gifts," she said, grinning. There were hugs all around and Ava hid behind AJ's leg once he'd let her down, peeking around his knee at Ashley and I, clutching a stuffed pig.

"Stop being so shy kid," AJ said, nudging her out from behind himself. She stumbled and stared up at Ashley and I with wide eyes, then ducked quickly behind Rochelle. "She's really shy," AJ said with a shrug, "God only knows where she got that from 'cos Ro and I certainly ain't shy," he laughed.

Rochelle patted Ava's head. "Where's Zoey?" she asked.

Ashley grinned, "Let me go get her!" she hurried off to the nursery, where Zoey had been napping for about an hour by then.

I bent down and looked at Ava peeking from behind Rochelle, "Hey Miss. Ava," I said, "You remember me, right? Your uncle Nick?" Ava nodded, then pressed her face into Rochelle's dress hem. "I like your pig, what's his name?"

"Wiggles," AJ said.

I looked up at AJ.

"I have no fuckin' clue why."

I laughed and stood up as Ashley came back in the room, Zoey tucked gently into her arms. Zoey's face was crumpled with disapproval from being woken up from her nap, but she wasn't crying. She waved her chubby fingers around, trying to grab onto something. AJ quickly leaped forward and scooped her out of Ashley's arms, "Holy bejebus," he said, eyes wide, "Holy bejebus, look at this kid."

Rochelle's eyes were all gooey. "She's beautifulllllll," she wailed.

Ava stretched her head, trying to see. "You wanna see?" I asked her and she nodded. "C'mere." Ava reluctantly weighed her options and decided seeing the baby was worth being brave, so she trotted over and I lifted her up to see Zoey.

"Baby," Ava said, pointing.

Rochelle nodded, "Isn't she pretty, Ava?"

"Pretty."

Ashley was beaming with pride. "You're a sexy one," AJ was cooing down at Zoey, "Yeah you are." He looked up at me and Ashley, "This one's gonna be a heart breaker, I can tell."

I laughed.

AJ and Rochelle took turns passing Zoey back and forth for the next few hours, while we all say in the living room. Rochelle's gifts turned out to be a bunch of baby clothes that Ava had grown out of before using, including several itty bitty pairs of designer shoes. Ava and I sat on the floor and stacked blocks and she laughed when I fake-sneezed and knocked our tower down over and over again.

Around eight, Ashley had to feed Zoey and Rochelle went to the nursery with her to see the room, and AJ and I stayed in the living room with Ava. AJ watched as Ava stacked the blocks, staring warily at me, waiting for my colossal achoooo that would knock the tower down. AJ laughed, watching me. "You ever fuckin' think we'd be sittin here, you and me?" he asked.

"Sitting here, yes," I answered, "Both of us parents playing with each other's kids while we sat here, no."

AJ shook his head, "Damn how shit changes, huh?"

"It's crazy," I replied.

"You hire anyone yet to deliver those annullment papers, so you can get hitched already?" he asked.

I shook my head, "Nawh. Brian's gonna do it."

AJ choked on the sip of Pepsi he'd been taking as he asked. He coughed. Ava looked over with concern. "Brian is gonna do it?" AJ asked.

"Yeah. He's coming by in the morning and we're gonna go serve them up."

"You're going with Brian to the prison to serve Chris annullment papers," AJ said.

I nodded.

"Well.. I'm glad you found someone to go with you to do it," AJ said. I could see on his face he was still wary about whether it was a good idea or not, though.

"I'll be glad when it's over," I said.

"Have you uh you know, proposed yet?" AJ asked. He glanced at the hallway, leaned forward and raised his eyebrows. "You know, so...when it's all said and done you two love birds can hitch it?"

"Well..." I said slowly, also glancing at the hallway, "I was kinda hoping we could talk about that."

"Tell me more."

"I wanna ask her," I said, "Soon. I gotta wait for just the right moment, I promised..."

"What?"

"Long story. But yeah I promised her and I gotta find the ring. That's where you come in. You interested in going ring hunting with me sometime?"

"Absofuckinlutely," AJ said enthusiastically.

I nodded, "Awesome."

He took a deep breath and clasped his hands together the way women do in those old western movies. "My golly," he said, "I ain't never thought I'd be seein' the day when you finally asked Ashley to marry your crazy ass." He sighed, the dorky act melting away and said seriously, "About god damn time, man."

AJ and Rochelle stayed until after 11:30, when Ava had fallen asleep across AJ's lap and Zoey was up sucking on her fingers as she stared around from Ashley's arms. We followed Ro and AJ to the door, AJ carrying Ava, and said good night. Ashley thanked them for the baby hand-me-downs and I told AJ I'd call him to make plans and he gave me the thumbs up, grinning. I knew the moment they were in the car he'd tell Rochelle about the ring shopping.

When they'd backed down the driveway, Ashley and I brought Zoey inside and put her down in her crib before heading to the bedroom. I took off my watch and Ashley crawled into bed. She watched me as I put my watch on the dresser and peeled my shirt off.

"Nick," she said.

I turned around. "Yep?"

"Rochelle offered to baby sit Zoey Friday night," she said.

I tossed my shirt at the laundry hamper, missed, and left it laying on the floor. "Oh?"

Ashley nodded, "Mmhm."

I climbed into bed and settled myself, smooshing my ass around trying to get just the right worn in feeling in the mattress.

"I was thinking we should let them baby sit Zozo... so we can have a date night..." she said slowly.

"A date night? Yeah? What'd you have in mind?"

Ashley leaned over, stopping me from my ass-smooshing and caught my face in her hands. "I was thinking Chinese food," she whispered, "You and me down on the beach in the sand...the water licking our toes..." She stared into my eyes, "And afterwards..." she looked at me suggestively.

It occurred to me suddenly that Friday would be five weeks.

"You're sure? You're ready?" I asked.

Ashley nodded. "I want you, Nick."

I licked my lips, "And why are we waiting for Friday again?" I whispered.

As though on cue, Zoey started crying from the other room.

Ashley laughed, "Because there'll be no interruptions," she replied.




Ashley

It was during the night, way after Nick had fallen fast asleep, that I woke up from a dead sleep, creeped out from a nightmare. It caused a deep, sick feeling in my stomach and I knew I wouldn't sleep until I'd checked on Zoey to make sure she was okay. So, glancing at Nick through the dark, I carefully got up and quietly tiptoed across the hallway to Zoey's room. I peered over the side of the crib. She was fast asleep, her chest rising and falling gently. I dropped into the chair and closed my eyes for a long moment, letting my heart rate catch up to me.

I'd dreamed Chris had been in the nursery, that he'd been looking down at her, apologizing to her for what he had to do to her... and as he'd reached for her, I'd woken up and now here I was. I took deep breaths, trying to settle down. It was just a dream, I told myself, Just a dream.

As I sat there, I looked around the room and my eyes landed on the dresser, on the jewelry box that I'd left on top of it from when this room was my room, Nick's spare bedroom. I took a deep breath and I got up and, with shaking hands, I opened the jewelry box and inside, on top of everything else I'd left in there, was the letter from my father.

Seeing Christopher in my dream had made me think of my father. And I stared down at the envelope, wondering if my mother had stood over my crib the way I stood over Zoey's. I wondered if she'd still be alive had there been someone like Nick in her life to protect us.

I swallowed and picked up the pale envelope, carrying it with me to the chair. I sank back into the cushions and stared at the letters. I wondered if i meant anything that he'd curved the top bracket of my A, what a handwriting analyst would have to say about the jaggedness to the tail of the Y.

I slid my nail behind the envelope flap, closed my eyes, flipped it over, and took a deep breath.

Dear Ashley,

By the time you get this, I will be long dead. And about time, too, if you want to know. I never deserved to see you when you came to see me. I never deserved to know how much like her you turned out, or to learn you were happy, or to believe for even the briefest of moments that saying I'm sorry to you could change the past... It cannot change any of the wrong I've done. Most especially to your mother. Most especially to you.

I robbed you of a father. But not as you may expect.

Your mother and I had a turbulent relationship. We always fought, always broke up, and always made up the next day. It was just a cycle. Your mother had a volatile personality, always on the verge of passionate love or passionate hatred, depending upon my own mood and the way she perceived the words I spoke to her. She was a wild horse, and I was a man who believed I could tame her. I was a foolish man, but I wanted her so badly that I refused to let her go, even after she reared and bucked and I knew I would never tame her.

So instead, I tried to break her spirit.

When I beat her the first time, she ran. I didn't hear from her for three months. She ran and when I found her, she was living in Boston with a man she'd dated in high school, Patrick. I found her and begged her to come back to me, making promises that I knew in my heart I'd never keep. Promises like I'll never hurt you again, and I've changed, I swear. Your mother left a note for her boyfriend, and she came home with me that night, and decided to give us another try.

Your mother became pregnant that night. With you. You, our precious one, the one thing that I believed would keep her with me, unwaveringly.

But I could tell she never stopped loving Patrick. He would try to call our home and I would answer and tell him she didn't want to talk to him anymore and he'd argue that he wanted to know that she was alive and to put her on because he didn't trust me, and I'd refuse and threaten to report him if he called our home again. Monica never knew that Patrick was calling, and I never told her.

Patrick arrived on our door step when you were just a month old. He wanted your mother to chose him over me, wanted her to run away with him, to escape me. Monica said no, because of you, and he said that he would do anything - he would adopt you as his own, if she wanted - but your mother said no.

I found out about the moment later that night, when your mother and I were fighting. She'd screamed that she should've gone with him, that she should've chosen Patrick. And she went to get you and her things because he hadn't yet left town, because he had told her where to meet him if she changed her mind. And an uncontrollable rage took over me. I couldn't lose you, I couldn't lose her. The two of you - you were everything that I had in the world, everything I'd ever wanted, you were my hearts, my loves - and I refused to lose either of you to him.

So I got my gun. My intention, when I got the weapon, was to go and to kill Patrick, to get him out of our lives so that she would not have a second choice, so that it would be just me and Monica and you and we would live happily together without interruption. But your mother saw the gun and she became terrified and we fought and she grabbed hold of the barrel of the gun, trying to take it away from me, and my finger slipped and the trigger pulled and the bullet killed her instantly.

I was a wretched man, but I felt the pain of loss and anguish of guilt. I laid on the living room floor with your mother, crying and holding her hands as the blood burst from her chest like roses through asphalt. I cried until the police arrived, too late to stop the crime, and the EMTs at their heels, too late to save the life.

I did not fight the cuffs the police strapped to my wrists because even moments after I'd done it, I knew that I deserved far worse.

Patrick came to the prison a year later to see me. He told me that he tried to adopt you but that the court system had denied his requests. He came again once every year on the day that your mother died. He was the only person who visited me the entire time I was in jail, until you came. Patrick asked about you every year.

Enclosed is a letter that I wrote, that I intended to send to him after you'd visited. If I was a less selfish man, it would have made it to the post. Instead, I couldn't bear to give away what little bit I had of you and I shoved this under my mattress. But I hope that you will send it, and that maybe I'll have finally done right and given you a father.

Words cannot express how truly sorry I am for everything I did in my life, for all the ways that I hurt you. Be comforted in the knowledge that now, I cannot ever hurt you again. You've heard the last of me.

Goodbye, Ashley, and I love you dearly.

Before: Change of Plans


Ashley

I sat there, staring down at the page, my hands shaking. And I realized for the first time I was holding an envelope addressed to a man named Patrick Kenney of Boston, Massachusetts. "Oh my God," I gasped. My throat felt like it was closing up. "Oh my God." And once the tears started, they couldn't stop. This was my mother's version of Nick Carter. How similar our lives had been, and the fear of how similar they could become flooded me, emptying my gut, squeezing the oxygen right out of my lungs.

Nick came running into the room moments after I started crying, holding the baby monitor. I realized that he could hear me as well as we could hear Zoey when she cried and he put the monitor down on the dresser, crossing the room quickly to get to me, dropping to his knees before me, pushing the letters aside from my hands and pulling me into a hug. I pressed my face into his shoulder. "Oh God, oh my God," I sobbed over and over again as his big hands caressed my back gently.

"What is it, babe?" Nick asked.

I pulled back and picked up the letter and pushed it into his hand. He stared down at it for a moment, starting to read, then looked up, "This is the letter from your dad," he said. I nodded, "You opened it finally?" I nodded again. "Shit." He turned back to the letter, eyes widening as he read. When he got to the end he shuffled the pages and stared down at Patrick Kenney's name and the Boston address.

Nick looked up. "Jesus."

"You're Patrick," I gasped out.

"Shhh," Nick said. He put the letters down and focused on me again, "Hey, calm down, breathe baby. Breathe."

I choked on air and started coughing.

"That's the opposite of breathing," Nick joked. I choked out a laugh while he patted my back. When I'd stopped coughing, he said, "Ashley, talk to me here."

"I just... it's so similar," I said, "I'm my mother, you're Patrick, and Chris is my father, and Zoey's me and ---" I closed my eyes, tears falling down my cheeks. "I'm just so afraid Chris is going to come back. I had a dream, I dreamed he was killing Zoey. It scared me so much."

Nick shook his head, "He would have to get through me first to lay a finger on either one of you."

"I'm afraid of that, too," I sobbed. "I mean look, look right there, my father meant to kill Patrick. He meant to kill Patrick so my mother had no reason not to allow him to break her spirit. Nick, Chris has the gun. He has the gun."

"He doesn't anymore, he's in jail now," Nick said.

"But for how long?" I asked, "How long until he gets out? How long until he comes for us? How long until we're all dead." I covered my hands with my eyes. I knew I was overreacting, at least a little bit, but I couldn't stop myself, my mind was racing and my heart was slamming in my chest to boot. "All this time I thought my past would be so simple, when I finally found out who my parents were, I always dreamt that I'd go and meet them. I pictured pulling up in front of a little cape style house with a picket fence and that the pain I'd feel would be that they never wanted me to live in that house with them. I never pictured it would be like this, a mirror of my own life. I never thought I'd be reading my future by reading my past."

"This," Nick said, picking up the letters and shaking them, "This is not your future. You are not your mother, I am not Patrick. Your mother chose to go back to Henry, for one. Are you going back to Chris anytime soon?" he asked.

I shook my head.

"Well there ya go, there's one. Two, Patrick was there, he was there at the house and he left and he took her no for an answer." Nick took a deep breath, "I'm here, Ashley, and I ain't going anywhere."

I nodded, my thoat aching.

Nick's eyes searched mine. "I know you wanted Chinese food and the beach sand Friday," he said, "But... I think I have a better idea." He held up the envelope addressed to Patrick Kenney.

"What?" I asked.

"Let's go meet Patrick."

I felt a wave of nausea and excitement run through me.




Nick

The next morning, after calling and talking to AJ and Rochelle, Ashley and I ordered plane tickets to Boston and booked a hotel for Friday night.

I was just finishing printing the confirmation slips and everything for the flight when Brian arrived. He had flowers for Ashley and a teddy bear for Zoey. Ashley was about to go wake Zoey up when Brian told her not to, that he'd peek in on her sleeping and we all crowded around the crib and Brian's eyes went all big and gooey as we watched her sleeping. He stuck his teddy bear present into the crib, and we all piled back into the hallway. "Ohmygosh, she's adorable," Brian said, grinning ear-to-ear. "Baby girls are so much more adorable than baby boys, by principle," he added.

We headed into the kitchen and Ashley put the flowers Brian had brought her into a vase. I picked up the thick manilla envelope Brian and I would be delivering. "Hurry back boys," Ashley said as we started heading for the door, "I'm gonna make lunch when you get back and I'm sure Zoey will be awake so she can meet Uncle Brian then." She smiled. I could tell she was profoundly nervous about Brian and I going to see Chris, but she kept a brave game face on.

I hugged her, "Text me or call me if you need anything." I kissed her forehead.

"Love you baby," she said.

"Love you," I replied.

After our mushy good-byes, Brian and I headed out to the car. Brian had the envelope with the forms and I climbed behind the driver's seat. At first, there was a really awkward silence that hung between Brian and I. We'd been on unsettled ground for quite awhile, I barely had a clue what was going on in his life these days, and me leaving the Backstreet Boys hadn't helped at all. Now, I wasn't sure what to say to the guy. He clearly wasn't sure what to say to me, either. At least that's what I thought. Until he exploded with words.

"I'm really happy for you. I feel like I should've been here more for you, like I let you down, but I'm glad you got it all together, without my help and everything. I wish I'd been more a part of everything that you've been through these last couple years. I'm a terrible friend, and I have to admit that this is the least I could do for you. I was so absorbed in my own world, and my own problems, I ignored you and Ashley and the plane crash and everything, and you're a good guy, Nick. You've changed from who you were Christmas two years ago, talking about Holiday Hos and everything like that. Nick, what I'm trying to say is that I'm proud of you." He took the first breath since beginning speaking here and looked straight ahead as we idled at a red light in downtown Los Angeles, hugging Ashley's annullment forms to his chest.

"Thanks Frick," I replied.

Brian looked over and smiled, "I'm still your Frick?"

"You'll always be my Frick, man," I replied.

Brian leaned back in the seat, now that the awkward silence was over, it was easier to get comfortable. He looked over at me, the envelope now laying across his lap. "Ashley looked happy."

"Yeah?" I glanced at him as the light turned green, and turned forward again to watch the road. "You really think so?"

"Nick, she's been waiting for years for you to come around," Brian replied. "Years, Frack."

It was nice being Frack again.

"Thanks for doing this," I said, waving my hand at the papers on his lap. "I can't exactly marry her 'til this thing is annulled and all..."

Brian lit up. "You're getting married?"

"I haven't officially proposed yet, but I asked her before one night and she said she'll say yes when I do ask," I said.

Brian smiled. "Good for you, Nick."

"It's weird being all like focused on one girl," I said.

Brian laughed, "It's weirder not being focused on one girl," he replied.

"Are you dating?" I asked.

Brian laughed again, "Oh Nick, I haven't dated since 1996. I feel so awkward even trying. Man, I signed up for Match.com."

"You whaaat?" I cracked up, "Brian, you're a fluffin' Backstreet Boy!"

"Fluffin?"

"Baby code word for fuck." It's funny, I now felt dirty saying the real word.

Brian snorted. Then, "And what's being a Backstreet Boy got to do with me signing up for Match.com? I have issues meeting girls, that's what the service is for."

"What in hell did you put up for your member profile?" I asked.

"You know. Desperate multimillion dollar musician seeks hot woman with big breasts," Brian joked. "I just put in that I'm in the entertainment industry, that's all."

"Got any replies yet?" I asked.

"I got one from management telling me to take down the page because I was posing," he replied.

I thought I was gonna die. I laughed so hard my face hurt. We continued talking about Brian's trials and tribulations, including the barrage of crazy fans who had been propositioning him on Twitter following the announcement of the break-up, until we arrived to the prison where Chris was being detained.

I parked the car and reached for the handle of the door. Brian shook his head, "You stay here."

"Don't you want me for moral support?"

"I'll be fine. And I think you'll be better off waiting here."

"Okay."

Brian got out. He leaned back in and grabbed the envelope off the dashboard. "Hey," I said, "Tell him I hope a big guy named Bubba makes him his bitty and fluffs him 'til his tushie aches."

Brian laughed, "I'll send him your regards."

I saluted Brian and watched as he walked across the parking lot. When Brian had disappeared into the prison's front doors, I reached for the radio dial and turned on some music, leaning back against the seat. I closed my eyes and waited.

It wasn't even fifteen minutes later and the passenger door opened.

"Did you give him the papers then?" I asked, opening my eyes and looking over.

Brian still had the annullment forms in his hands. He swallowed and looked over at me. "So... Nick... Change of plans," he said.

"What? Why didn't you give him the forms? Brian, I knew I shouldda gone in with you..."

"Nick, he's not here."

"What?"

"They released him this morning."

Before: Now What?


Nick

Brian held onto the handle over the window in the car the entire way home. I was driving like a psychopath, I know I was, but all I could picture was Chris looming on the deck out back, watching through the windows, waiting until I'd left before making his move. All I could picture was Ashley being unable to get a text out to me in time, coming home to an eerily silent house.

When we got to the house, I slammed the car into park and launched myself across the yard, my hands shaking as I shoved the key into the door. Brian was still trotting up the walkway after me by the time I'd gotten into the entryway of the house. "ASHLEY!" I yelled at the top of my voice, frantic. "ASHLEY!"

I skid around the corner of the kitchen just as she yelled back, "I'm in the kitchen!" She turned around, and stared at me, hamburger meat all over her held-aloft hands, a pan sizzling on the stove. "I was just about to start making lunch," she said. "That went a lot faster than I thought it would." She turned back to the sink, turning on the water with her clean wrist and washing the meat off her hands.

Brian came up behind me. I jumped a little before I realized it was him. He slid by me and sat on the far side of the breakfast bar, a concerned expression on his face.

Ashley turned back around, freshly cleaned hands holding up a plate of raw burger patties and a spatula. "You wanna grill them, baby?" she asked. I took the plate numbly and she turned to the sizzling pan and shifted around some onions that were carmelizing at the bottom of it.

"Nothing weird happened while we were gone?" I asked.

Ashley laughed, "Weird?" She glanced over at me, "No." She turned back to the onions. "Did Chris take the annullment forms okay?" she asked.

I looked at Brian. Brian made a face. I took a deep breath, "Well, we didn't exactly get to, um, deliver them," I said.

"Why not?" Ashley asked. She turned the stove off and turned to face me. I stood there holding the plate of raw meat and absolutely no words would come out. I mean, how do you tell someone that their nightmares could literally be coming true? "Nick?" Brian cleared his throat and Ashley looked at him. "Brian?"

"They released him this morning," Brian said quietly.

The kitchen was silent. Ashley look from Brian to me and back to Brian again, as though expecting one of us to jump up and declare that this was a joke and the delivery had gone just fine. And if I could've truthfully done so, I would've.

"But the where is he?" Ashley asked. Her hands went instinctively to her arms, like she was hugging herself.

"I don't know," Brian said.

Ashley looked at me, her eyes desperate, searching my own. "He's just... somewhere... free...?" she asked.

"Yes," I whispered.

Ashley stared at me. "How... why didn't we... why... Why didn't Jason call you to tell you?" she asked. Her voice was higher than usual.

"That's...actually a really good question," I said, my brow furrowing. I put the plate of burgers on the counter and pulled my phone out of my pocket. The screen was blank. I clicked the power button and it vibed as it turned on. "My phone's been off all morning," I said. Even as I spoke the words, the screen came up and my missed calls log informed me I'd missed twelve calls from Jason. "He did call," I said, "And I missed it."

Ashley stumbled back into the counter, a mixture of shock and horror on her face.

Zoey's screams suddenly filled the room, slicing through the thickness of the moment from the baby monitor. Ashley started to respond when Brian jumped up, "Allow me. You two are in the middle of...this." He walked out to the hallway and off to Zoey's room.

Ashley looked at me. "Now what?" she asked thickly.

I drew a deep breath, "I dunno," I answered.




Ashley

While I made the burgers - inside on the stove because we were now afraid to step out onto the deck to use the grill - Nick called Jason and got the facts about Chris's release. He'd been released on bail made by his friends from work, was living at his buddy's place. Brian sat next to Nick, holding Zoey, who kept reaching for Nick's arm every time he moved like she was magnetized to him. When the burgers were ready I slid a plate to each of the boys and took Zoey. Brian stuck one of the french fries I'd cooked into his mouth.

"So ... are we bringing the papers over to this guys house?" he asked, looking at the notes Nick was making.

"I dunno, we could, I guess," Nick said.

"No you cannot," I broke in. The two boys looked up. "It was bad enough worrying about you two when he was in a jail cell and you were surrounded by cops. There's no way in Hell you two are going over some random guy's house that Chris is staying at and just serving him divorce papers. Especially not you," I added, pointing at Nick.

Brian shrugged, "I don't mind going alone, he can't be that bad."

"Can't be that ---" I sputtered, and I turned away.

"What? He can't be," Brian said, "Right?" he looked at Nick.

"Yeah actually he can," Nick said.

Brian took a deep breath.

"We'll hire someone. Someone with like biceps bigger than Chris's head," Nick said.

I paced. It didn't matter who delivered those damn papers, I already knew Chris was going to fly off the handle. The thought of me leaving was what drove him crazy last time. That's what had driven my father to the point of going to shoot Patrick, too. There was no way in hell we would be safe if Chris knew where to find us after being served papers for an annullment of the marriage.

"We can't serve him papers," I blurted.

"What?" Nick looked up, "Ashley --"

"I don't want to stay married to him, if that's what you're thinking I'm saying. But we aren't safe here if we give him those papers. He knows he can get into this house... We're like sitting ducks. We serve those papers and he'll come here."

Nick licked his lips.

"So we can't serve him the papers."

"Or," Nick said, "We could serve him the papers and leave."

"Leave where?" I demanded.

Nick held up the confirmation papers on the end of the bar that he'd printed out that morning for the flight to Boston. "We're going to Boston already... So we just... don't come right home afterwards," he said.

"Where do we go?"

"Where do you want to go?"

I stared at him. "What about Zoey?"

"We'll bring her."

"You're not supposed to bring a baby on a plane too soon," I said, "They get sick."

"Air cabin quality standards have improved so much over the last ten years that's just an old wives' tale now," Brian spoke up. "Leighanne and I flew all over with Baylee when he was an infant. She just made sure to feed him or give him a pacifier as we took off because of air pressure normalization. It can burst their ear drums if they aren't sucking on something."

I blinked at Brian. He sounded like What to Expect When You're Expecting, The Audiobook Version or something. "But I -- What about --"

"We can go to Nashville," Nick said.

"But --"

"I'm going to protect you and Zoey," Nick said, "I'll do whatever it takes to keep you two safe. And if leaving is the only way, then so be it. We'll go clear around the world if we have to."

"Okay," I said. And I put my trust in Nick.

After: Stories from Before


Nick

Brian and I tried to steal the bus once. Well not really steal, just we tried to drive it once. It was three o'clock in the morning and we were parked in the lot of a Wal-Mart somewhere near Dayton, Ohio. Brian and I were up playing Black Jack Backstreet Style (basically it was Go Fish but Black Jack Backstreet Style sounds more manly) and out of nowhere, Brian looked up and he was like, "Shit, doesn't a taco sound amazing right now?"

"Yes," I answered automatically. I was seventeen at the time, going through my I'll-Eat-Anything-Within-Arms-Length phase, and Brian had said the magic word taco. Taco was one of "the three T's" - Tacos, Twinkies, Trix - that I binge-ate on a regular basis. (Seriously, I once took a soft taco shell, stuffed it with taco meat, a smashed up Twinkie, and drizzled Trix cereal over the top of it...it was equal parts disgusting and amazing.)

Then we got up, snuck to the front of the bus, being careful not to wake the driver, who was asleep in one of the bunks we had to pass, and found the keys still hanging in the ingition. Brian - who back then, before the heart surgery, before Leighanne, before a lot of things, was a lot more daring - leaped into the driver's seat and turned the keys. The engine roared to life, and we both looked over our shoulders, expecting everyone to wake up. But none of the bunks opened, nobody's heads poked out, and silence - other than the engine - reigned over the bus.

"I can't believe we're doing this, man, oh my God, I can't believe we're doing this," I muttered, excited. I felt like that scene in Stand By Me when Gordy shoots the gun. It was equally dangerous and awesome. Kind of like my Twix-Twinkie-Taco.

It took us a whole three minutes just to figure out how to shift the thing. I was no help, I didn't even know how to drive a regular car yet, not to mention a standard-shift tour bus, but Brian finally found the stick up behind the wheel and shifted and the big wheels groaned to life and the tour bus crept forward.

"Aw shit man," Brian groaned, now that the wheel were turning and he was getting somewhere his balls were starting to shrivel. This was typical of Brian.

This was the moment when I came in. "Dude you got this," I said quietly. "You so got this."

"I got this," he muttered, repeating after me.

The bus had rolled about three feet so far.

"Holy shit we are so awesome," I gasped. "We're like hijacking the tour bus. Oh Christ." I grabbed Brian's shoulder.

"Don't grab me right now," he said, his voice squeaking with nerves, "If you haven't noticed, I'm driving a tour bus."

"Sorry, sorry." I crouched down beside him, my heart racing.

The bus was crawling along. A quick glance at the spedometer revealed Brian was going 5MPH. We'd moved about thirty feet so far. I bounced excitedly. "We're like going to get tacos, man," I said.

It took about an hour for Brian to get across the parking lot, onto the, thankfully, empty road, and down the street two blocks to the Taco Bell parking lot. It took us another five minutes to figure out how to park the beast while Brian sat there with his foot on the brake. Then we snuck off the bus and into the restaurant lobby and ordered a shit ton of tacos, which we ate, then headed off to bed.

I learned a few things that night: One, Taco Bell after midnight is not a good idea. I had the shits like incredible the next morning. And lesson two, just because nobody woke up and caught you in the act of stealing a tour bus doesn't mean nobody will notice that it's parked in a new place the next morning.

I swear we got chewed out to high heaven for stealing that bus.

But shit those tacos were good.

All this to tell you that other than that one night of delinquincy, I'd never driven a tour bus before. Whether it be a heavenly one or a real, actual, physical one. I sat behind the wheel of the tour bus, staring out the window, thinking about Brian, about that night, about how good those tacos were. I wondered what Brian's heaven was like, if it was anything at all like mine, and how come the other guys weren't on my stage in my heaven every night.

Then I pulled myself back together.

I had to get to Ashley somehow. I had to see her one last time. Whatever it took.

I looked at the steering wheel, and found the stick shift. Just like the one Brian and I had hijacked. I took a deep breath.

"Well," I said outloud to absolutely nobody, since I was alone and stuff, "It's not like I can get myself killed."

And I turned the key.




Ashley

The next morning, the kids were all quiet at the dining room table. Oliver was pushing his oatmeal around in the bowl, his feet up on the edge of his chair. Leslie was letting Steve Perry drink the last of her cereal milk. Zoey and Presley were both studying their meals like they were intricate puzzles or pieces of fine art.

I cleared my throat. Oliver looked up, the others stayed as they were.

"I know you guys have questions," I said slowly. Now they all looked up. "And I'm prepared to give you answers."

Oliver and Leslie shared a glance, then turned back to me. "Who shot Dad?" Oliver asked.

"Whoa, hey now, slow down cowboy," I said. He looked disgruntled. "This is a long story, and you're gonna have to hear it my way."

"How long?" asked Presley warily.

"As long as it needs to be," I said. I took a deep breath and pressed my finger tips together. Then I looked up at them. "Your father was shot in a grocery store..."

Before: Overnight at Frick's


Nick

We packed quickly. Brian helped. We stuffed three large suitcases and two carry-on bags and Zoey's diaper bag into the car and I locked the front door and just like that, less than three hours after Brian and I had gotten back from attempting to serve the papers, we were backing down the driveway of the house. Ashley had tears in her eyes, hugging Zoey's pink giraffe to her chest. "It's not fair," she said thickly, staring at the house, "It's not fair that we aren't safe in our own home."

I reached over and took her hand.

We followed Brian's car across town to the house he was renting. It wasn't the same place he usually stayed when he was in Los Angeles, so unlike how I'd felt at AJ's almost two months before, I felt like this was an okay place to stay for the night before we left for Boston the next morning. Chris would never know that this was where Brian was staying, so there was no way he'd look here for us. It was safe.

When we pulled in Ashley turned to me, "Are you sure we aren't an imposition on poor Brian?" she asked.

I shook my head, "I think we're more of a welcome blessing," I said. "He signed up for Match dot com."

Ashley's eyebrows went up. "And we haven't looked his profile up to mock it ceaselessly because....?"

"Because I just found out when we were driving over to the prison," I answered. "But trust me," I reached for the door handle, "We'll be doing that tonight." I climbed out of the car as Ashley laughed.

Brian was already out of his car and halfway to ours. "It ain't much," he said. He looked back at the house, rubbed his head, "It ain't got the beach out back."

"I'll live," I said. Ashley was pulling Zoey out of the car. "I'm just glad my ladies are safe, you know? That's all I really want."

"I hear ya," Brian said. "C'mon inside."

The house was really sparse, and it was so painfully obvious that Brian was the only person living there that it hurt. It reminded me of the apartment him, Kevin, and Howie used to share back in Orlando in the early days. At least in that place it'd had Howie's touch, which is really close to having a woman's touch. But this place, this one... Well seriously the living room contained a couch, a TV on an squat book case that had DVDs and CDs haphazardly stacked on its shelves, a coffee table, and on the wall hung a Kentucky Wildcats pennent. And it was the best furnished room of the house.

I looked around.

Ashley held Zoey to her chest. "So you're staying in Los Angeles full time?" Ashley asked. I knew this was her polite way of asking what the hell is with this decor?

"Yeah," Brian replied. He shrugged. "It's easier. You know. All the guys are out here now."

"Yeah," Ashley nodded. "That's why Nick relocated out here, too." She settled onto the couch, Zoey was asleep in her arms.

Brian nodded. "I mean when we're all working together or whatever it's way more convenient."

"Yeah it is," I agreed. I stood there awkwardly.

"Do ya miss it yet?" Brian asked.

I shrugged.

"You will," he said. Then, "Are y'all thirsty? I have water and, I don't know, maybe juice or something in there...?"

"Water's fine," Ashley replied.

"What kinda juice?" I asked, following Brian to the kitchen. He opened the fridge. It was sadly empty.

"I haven't gone grocery shopping yet," he said. He pulled out the Brita filtered water jug he had inside and poured three glasses of water, then turned to the cupboard. "If you want, I have Crystal Light," he said. He pulled it out and shook the bottle. "It's Sweet Tea flavor. It's not the same as --- hers." I could hear the sadness in his voice. "But it is pretty good," he added.

"I'm good with plain water," I said.

"Okay."

Brian added the Crystal Light to his own glass, then we went back out to the living room. Ashley was asleep on the couch, Zoey laying across her chest, their faces in identical positions. I pulled out my cell phone and took a picture of them. I looked at Brian. "I've never felt so protective over anything in my entire life," I said.

Brian was lowering himself onto the floor by the far end of the couch from Ashley, water glass clutched in his hand. I put Ashley's down on the coffee table in front of her, and joined Brian on the floor.

"That's kind of amazing," Brian said, "I remember how you used to get over Twinkies. You were like one of them crazy mongoose things."

"I can't believe they stopped making Twinkies, man," I muttered.

Brian chuckled. "You stopped eating them. They went bankrupt. This is why you shouldn't diet."

I shook my head.

"You're a lucky man," Brian said.

I nodded, "I know."

Brian sipped his fake sweet tea. When he lowered the glass, he said, "If you leave the papers here, I'll make sure they get to Chris this weekend."

"Okay," I replied.

I pictured a big guy - like the guy from Princess Bride - dropping off the papers to Chris. Even in my imagination, Chris's face went red with anger.




Ashley

"C'mon baby." Nick's voice was husky in my ear. My eyelids fluttered open. It was dark. He was haloed by light from another room, giving him an unearthly glow. I felt the weight of Zoey lift off my chest and he held out a hand, "It's bedtime, love."

I let him pull me up. I looked around. Brian's house, I thought. It was dismal and dark and quiet and lonely. Nick led me out of the living room and into the hall, where the light had been coming from. Evidently Brian was already in bed. Nick carried Zoey into a spare bedroom, and I staggered along after him. He handed her to me while he popped open a travel crib and slipped her into it. He turned back to me, and waved for me to get under the covers of the bed. I crawled under and a moment later, Nick climbed in beside me.

I curled into him, and he wrapped his arm around me.

A couple hours passed before Zoey woke up. I woke up with her and I climbed out of bed, stubbing my toe on the leg of a chair that didn't exist at home. I flicked on the switch and pulled Zoey out of the crib, and carried her to the chair, patting her back softly.

Nick turned on the light switch by his side of the bed and peeked over. "Everything okay?" he mumbled into the pillow. I nodded. "Oh good," he said.

"We never looked up that Match.com profile," I said.

Nick laughed, "On the plane, then," he said.

"Don't forget," I said.

"I won't," he said. He smiled and hummed himself back to sleep. I sat there, hugging Zoey. My eyelids still felt heavy, regardless of how much sleep I'd gotten. I took a deep breath of the smell of Zoey's hair. Her eyes were blinking shut, too. I smiled down at her, then stood up and softly laid her back in the crib. "You just needed a hug, huh Zozo?" I asked as I put Pink Giraffe down next to her. She bit onto his antler thingy, her eyes closed.

I climbed back into bed next to Nick, and I put my hand on his chest.

"Hmm?" he mumbled, not fully asleep.

I kissed his skin softly.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Yes," I replied.

Nick's arm wrapped around me clumsily. "Love you," he mumbled.

"Love you," I replied.

When I woke up next, it was early morning and the sunlight was streaming in the window. Nick was gone, and when I sat up and checked, so was Zoey. I quickly got dressed and poked my way awkwardly down the stairs and through the house until I found Nick and Brian in the kitchen, Zoey in her carrier, staring up at them with wide, just-stopped-crying eyes as they both serenaded her with a rousing version of I'm a Believer by the Monkees.

"Then I saw her faaaaaaaaaaaaaace," Nick sang.

"Baaa daada daaaaaaaaaa," Brian harmonized.

"Now I'm a Beeeelieeeeeeeeeverrrrrrrrr!"

"Da daa daaaaaa..."

"Witttthouuuut a traaaaaaaaaaaaace..."

"Daaaaadaadaa.."

"Of douuuuuubt in my miiiiiiiiiiiiind... I'm in love!"

"Oooooooohh."

"I'm a believer, I couldn't leaaaave 'er if I triiiiiiiiied..."

I clapped, and both boys jumped about a mile in the air. Brian dropped the bottle of maple syrup he'd been using as a microphone and it clubbed Nick on the foot. Luckily it was plastic and sealed so nothing broke. Although for all the dramatics that followed you'd think Nick's foot had.

"If only I'd had a video camera at that moment," I said.

Brian laughed, and turned back to the stove, where he flipped a slightly overdone pancake that he'd neglected for the theatrics of the song. Nick was holding his foot, balancing precariously on one foot. Zoey was gurgling from her seat with laughter. "Yeah? You think its funny Daddy got bashed with maple syrup?" he asked her.

She giggled herself into a giant spit bubble.

"Well that was certainly an impressive bubble, Miss. Zozo," Nick laughed as it popped on her chin.

I shook my head, smiling. "You boys are crazy."

Brian got the pancakes served up while I fed Zoey and Nick, dramatic as he is, held a bag of frozen peas on his foot. We all ate breakfast and chatted for quite some time until Nick looked down at his watch. "Well," he said, "It's time to go to the airport."

Brian jumped up and put the plates into the sink. "I'll drive you over."

We loaded our stuff into Brian's SUV. We left Nick's car there in the driveway. On the drive over to the airport, Brian and Nick goofed off, talking in crazy voices, and making all these whacky Frick-and-Frack-Only inside jokes. I talked to Zoey.

At the airport, Brian pulled up to the drop offs and Nick ran in for a cart and the two boys loaded the suitcases and carry on bags and Zozo's carrier, stroller, and crib onto the cart. Once everything had been transferred, Brian slammed the back door on the SUV shut and we stood on the curb facing each other. He took a deep breath, then came over to me and tilted his head to look at Zoey. "Well, madam," he said in a serious tone, "It was a pleasure to meet you and to perform for you this morning." He held out a finger and Zoey grabbed it. He smiled and shook her hand, then pulled away and looked up at me. "It was nice seeing you Ashley," he said.

"You, too, Brian, and thank you for trying to serve those papers, it means a lot to me."

"No problem," he said. He turned to look at Nick.

Nick stuck out his hand, and Brian reached for it to shake it, and Nick pulled him into a hug, "Gimme a hug you asshole," Nick said.

Brian patted Nick's back, laughing, and when they broke apart, Brian replied, "I ain't the asshole, asshole." Then proceeded to punch Nick on the arm. Nick punched him back. Brian grinned up at Nick. "I'm glad you're still my Frack."

"You're stuck with me Frick, what can I say, you can't shake me..." Nick grabbed the cart. "I always come back. Just when you think you're rid of me, I come back."

"Like a bad habit," Brian said.

"Like a BOOMarang," Nick replied. Brian laughed. I have no idea what the joke was but the way Brian giggled there obviously was one. Nick waved. "Seeya man."

Brian waved goodbye.

Before: Date in a Bed


Ashley

Boston's airport was crowded when we landed. Nick was still shaking. He'd been harder to take care of on the flight than Zoey had. Zoey literally had gone through the flight without a single tear. I fed her as we took off and she'd fallen asleep and other than one bout of waking up wanting to be burped and changed about midway through, she pretty much slept through the entire ordeal. Nick on the other hand, threw up about four times, and rambled about the woman who'd sat next to him on the plane when he'd had the crash. "It was her eyes," Nick muttered, "She had these eyes, they were intense eyes, you know? I wish I knew if she lived." He'd stared out the window at the wing of the plane, then thrown up again, doubling over in his seat. The guy on the other side of him was pressed tight against the wall with headphones on, staring at the tablet he was using, trying to ignore Nick.

We'd made it across the country, though, and here we were in Logan airport, Zoey finally awake and crying. Nick was signing papers on the rental car and I was sitting on the trolly cart with Zoey singing quietly, though she didn't really like my voice as much as Nick's. I tried singing classic lullabies and she wasn't even slightly interested, so I finally switched over and tried singing I Want It That Way because I actually know the lyrics to that one and Zoey's tears slowed a little bit, though she kind of looked at me like why are YOU singing this and not my Dad?

Nick came back, "Okay, we got a car."

"Thank God. Here, sing to her, she thinks I'm crazy singing," I said, and I shoved Zoey into Nick's arms and I pushed the trolley as he led the way out to the parking lot where the car was, singing Brown Eyed Girl as we walked. I swear to God, he got like two lines in and Zoey was dead silent. He was the baby whisperer.

Nick tucked Zoey into her carrier in the back and we loaded the rest of the stuff into the car and I got in while Nick returned the trolley, and off we went to the hotel. Nick got stressed in the traffic and Zoey picked up on the tension and started crying again, and her cries got me tense, and by the time we got to the hotel on the north side of Boston - clear across the city from the airport - we were all a jumble of nervous wrecks.

Inside the hotel, Nick sang to Zoey more as I took a shower, and when I got out, she was quiet, and so was Nick. I assumed he'd fallen asleep and took my time getting dressed and everything. I pushed the door of the bathroom open and came around the corner to find Nick sitting on the bed surrounded by boxes of Chinese food. Zoey's crib was set up on the far side of the room from him, tucked between the wall and the second bed, and she was fast asleep.

"We had a date, I do believe?" he said. I smiled and walked over and climbed onto the bed with him. He handed me a container and some chopsticks. "And for when the chopsticks get obnoxious, here's the fork they gave us."

I laughed.

"It ain't the beach sand," he said, running his hand across the ugly polyester bedspread we were sitting on, "But..." he pulled his phone out of his pocket and hit play on a sound effects app he had pulled up. Ocean sounds came out of the phone all crackly and staticy, complete with lame caww caww noises of birds. It sounded like someone had gone sshhhhh too close to a microphone while someone else literally said "caw" in the background. I laughed so hard my sides hurt. "It's so realistic," Nick said, "If you close your eyes you can almost feel the ocean licking your toes." He looked up at me, "I can lick your toes if you want a more realistic feel to the moment."

"No, that's okay," I laughed.

Nick grinned.

It was the best damn Chinese food I ever had. I think mostly because of Nick's crazy antics. He turned off the sound effects thing, and we ate and I shoved a baby corn up his nose as we played around and he did that stupid joke with the fortune cookies ("Help I'm trapped in a fortune cookie factory!") and when we were done we worked the jigsaw puzzle of putting all the leftover containers into the mini-fridge.

Nick glanced into Zoey's crib. "She's still asleep," he said. He crawled back onto the bed beside me.

"She's had a long day," I said.

Nick leaned over. "You know," he said, "There was a second part to this date we talked about."

I nodded, "There certainly was."

He grinned up at me hopefully.

I laughed, "Are we gonna talk about it, or are you gonna do me?"

Nick's nose crunched up as he laughed and he rolled onto me. I liked the feeling of the weight of him, liked the way his legs tangled with mine, the way his mouth pressed against mine. I laughed as he slid his fingers between my fingers and held our hands up over my head and he kissed my neck and bit by bit we lost our clothes and tumbled together across the bed.

When we'd finished, and Nick lay across the bed breathing heavy, I pressed my ear against his chest where his heart was beating wildly in his chest. He ran his hand up and down my spine. "You're amazing, have I told you that?" he asked.

I laughed, "Why am I amazing?"

"Just... okay, I shouldn't say this 'cos it's like the classic line guys say and girls freak out in the movies but, you know this already but -- just, I've had a lot of sex in my day --"

"You mean there were other women before me?" I joked.

Nick laughed. "No never, I'm a virgin."

"Good."

"Seriously though, I've had a lot of sex and a lot of good sex. A lot of great sex..."

"Nick?"

"I swear this is going somewhere."

"It sounds like a walk down ho-bag memory lane."

"No dude, listen. I've had sex a lot but none of the sex I've had is even infantesmally close to being as fluffing amazing as yours."

I laughed.

"What? That was a compliment. Did I say it wrong?" he asked, worried.

I shook my head, "You said fluffing," I said.

"What?"

"You. You said as fluffing amazing."

Nick laughed, "So?"

"So you say fluff instead of fuck now," I laughed. My cheeks hurt, and Nick stared at me, a look of confusion on his face. "Oh my God Nick; three years ago if I told you that we'd be together and we'd have a baby and you'd be saying fluff instead of fuck, you would've run the hell away. You know that, right?"

"Nawh."

"Yeah-huh," I nodded. "You would've run away at the thought of sex with me."

"Nawh."

"Yes," I replied. "You used to get freaked out over the mere idea of sex with me. You called me your sister. Do you remember that?"

His face turned red.

"Yeah, see?" I shook my head, "I never wanted to be your sister. Or your wingman."

Nick smiled sadly, "I can't believe how much time I wasted with you right there under my nose. How many more years we could've had if I'd just... opened my damn eyes," he said.

I reached up and stroked his face.

"I'm just glad you're here now," I said, "The past doesn't matter..." I smiled. "We have our whole futures."

He pulled me closer and kissed me deeply.




Nick

The next morning, Ashley was a nervous wreck, dressing Zoey up in a little lady bug dress and shiney black shoes that Rochelle had brought over that one night. I was putting Patrick Kenney's address into the GPS. He lived in an apartment building down the street from Fenway Park, an area that I knew relatively well from tourist excursions in Boston over the years. A quick Google search on the guy had returned that he was a writing and English Literature professor at Boston University. He'd won an award for a book that he'd published that Spring on writing realistic characters.

Ashley tucked Zoey into her stroller. Pink Giraffe was attached to a clip that would keep him attached to the stroller if Zoey decided to throw him out. He looked sad with the metal clamp biting into his neck, but it was better than getting lost on the Boston subway. We took the T from the hotel, switching trains twice before we found ourselves emerging into Kenmore Square. We stopped by the Boston University Barnes and Noble so Ashley could buy a copy of Patrick's book, then we walked up the street to the apartment building, which loomed right up by the ball park.

The streets were crowded with people in Red Sox jerseys; it was obviously game day. Several passers-by stopped to ooh and aah at Zoey, and it proved to be a good thing that pink giraffe was clamped in because he would've been lost about a thousand times if it hadn't been for the clip. He hung, bungee jumper style from the side of the stroller. I tossed him back in for Zoey and she laughed.

When we reached the apartment building, Ashley's hands were shaking as we stared up at the brown stone building. I pressed the ringer on the apartment buzzer marked Kenney and after a moment or two, a deep voice came over the intercom. "Hello?"

"Hello, Mr. Kenney. My name is Nick... I'm here with my girlfriend, Ashley. We'd like to talk to you."

There was a pause. "May I ask what this is in regards to?"

I looked at Ashley. Ashley took a deep breath, "My mother was Monica Jackson."

There was another, longer pause. Then the buzzer rang and the door clicked open. I helped Ashley get Zoey and the stroller into the entry way, and she lifted Zoey out. I folded down the stroller and we carried our loads up the steps to the fifth floor.

A man with a wild bush of brown hair and wide green eyes was standing at the top. He had a beard and glasses that poked out of his hair. He looked like someone that lived in the woods tending to wolves or something. He was dressed in a shirt with a picture of that book On the Road on it and a pair of jeans that were ripped at one knee. He didn't look at all like I'd picture a college professor to look. "My God you look exactly like her," he said as Ashley approached. He looked at Zoey. "And she looks exactly like you. My God."

He opened a door behind him and Ashley stepped through it. Patrick looked at me and took the stroller, "Here, let me help you with that."

"Thanks."

He led the way down the hall to his apartment door, marked by a big brass number, and held it opened as Ashley and I stepped inside. The first thing I noticed upon stepping into the room was the picture that stood on a mantle over an electric fire place. If I didn't know any better I'd think it was Ashley herself in the photo.

Before: Patrick


Ashley

I stared at what seemed like a mirror, but was really a photograph. My mother stared back. It was a really old photograph, obviously from the late 60s judging by the clothes. She was in a pink prom dress that looked like cotton candy had been wrapped around her hips. She held a bouquet of white flowers - carnations, I think - and beside her, with his arm around her shoulders and a grin on his face was Patrick. He was much younger and less hairy and he didn't have glasses, but there was no mistaking his eyes in the photo, even with the dimmed coloration of old photographs, he still had the greenest eyes I'd ever seen.

I turned and looked into his green eyes in real life. He was staring at me, a breathless sort of dumbfounded expression on his face. I held Zoey out to Nick and he took her and stepped back. I licked my lips, "You knew my mother," I said.

"Very well," Patrick replied.

We all just stood there, facing eachother, Nick bouncing Zoey gently on his arm. Patrick took a deep breath. "I never... I never thought I'd see you..." he said, "I didn't think... I couldn't find you..." He shook his head as he spoke, his voice shaking.

I opened my purse and pulled out the letter from my father. I held it up to him.

He stepped forward and took it, turned it over in his hands, then looked up at me. "You met Henry," he said.

I nodded. "Briefly."

"How is he?" Patrick asked.

"Dead," I answered flatly.

A cloud passed over Patrick's eyes for a moment, his brow furrowed. Then he closed his eyes and I watched tension lift from him. Like a ghost leaving a person whom it had posessed for so long that its presence had been barely acknowledged. Patrick opened his eyes, "How?"

"He killed himself," I answered.

Patrick looked down at the envelope in his hands.

"I don't know what it says," I told him, "I only know what mine said. He told me about you. About my mom. About what happened." I paused. "He said he robbed me of a father. He said you went to visit him every year."

Patrick nodded.

"I had to meet you," I said.

Patrick put the envelope down on the table he was standing beside. I saw Nick's eyes dart to the envelope with longing. Stuff like not opening envelopes drove him crazy. But Patrick stepped toward me and my attention drifted away from Nick. "You're so beautiful," he breathed. He stood right in front of me and gently put his hands on either side of my face, looking down at me, "She would've been so proud of you. She wanted so much for you." His eyes were filled with tears. "I tried like hell to adopt you out of the system."

A tear fell from his eye, and traveled across his weathered cheek, dripping and crawling through the wrinkles and folds that lined his face, eventually disappearing into the thick beard of hair that lined his jaw.
"Why couldn't you?"

"It just wouldn't happen. I tried many times over the years..." he paused, "You probably don't remember, but I visited the group home once, when you were nine or ten..." Patrick paused. "You were listening to a walkman in the backyard, singing Don't Stop Believing at the top of your little voice, and playing on a swing set."

I used to do that all the time. My throat constricted at the thought of how close to having a father I'd been all those years and I'd never known it. I could feel my nerve endings shaking all over my body, my world was breaking apart in the best way. "Why didn't you contact me?" I asked, "After?"

"You disappeared."

I'd moved in with Nick for the first year after I'd gotten out of the group home and he'd helped me find an apartment and get settled. My first apartment had been in his name, I realized. Patrick was right. I'd disappeared after the group home until I moved to California, where I finally had enough credit established to get my own place - the apartment I'd lived in with Christopher.

"The only reason I went to see Henry every year was because I knew eventually you'd want to know about your parents, and I knew you'd find Henry and I hoped that he would tell you of me, that you'd find me, that we'd find each other. I knew if I'd given up on Henry, after all these years, that it would be like giving up on finding you." Patrick stared me in the eyes, "Ashley, I never stopped trying to find you, not even one day went by that I didn't think of you."

I felt tears burn the edges of my eyes. "Why? You didn't even know me," I choked. "Was it all for her?"

Patrick shook his head. "Ashley, you're my daughter. It was for you."

"Your daughter?" I choked out, "Biologically?"

Patrick shook his head, "It doesn't matter," he whispered. He pulled me into his chest and wrapped his arms around me. He smelled like Old Spice and peppermint mixed together, and I closed my eyes and breathed it in. It was exactly how a daddy should smell, I thought, and the rough of his beared scratched my forehead. "I love you the same either way, I always have," Patrick said thickly.

I burst into tears.




Nick

I took Zoey for a walk so Patrick and Ashley could catch up. God knows they had a lot of catching up to do. I had Zoey in one of those front loading knapsack things. The streets of Boston were loud and made her anxious and cry, so we took the T out to the aquarium. I sang the entire way over under my breath, head bent low so Zoey could hear me. She cried just the same, though much quieter when I sang than when I didn't.

At the aquarium, she quieted down. I pointed out the penguins that greet you at the front door. "Your momma will be jealous we were here without her," I said, snapping a picture of a couple of rock hopper penguins doin' the nasty on their little fiberglass rocks. "Don't look, Zoey, I'm taking penguin porno photos for mommy."

I walked around through the dark with Zoey peering out from my chest. I pointed out fish that she was way too young to care about, and showed her the big turtle in the spiral tank that ran up the center of the aquarium. I stood there, bathed in blue light with her and kissed her forehead, running my hand along her back in the little sack she was in. She was chewing on pink giraffe.

"You know," I said, "What that Patrick guy said to your mom's really true about me and you, too. It doesn't matter you ain't mine biologically, cos that's just like science stuff like petrie dishes and stuff like that, you know? You and me are more important than petrie dishes, kid. You're mine. I don't care what anyone says. I love you like you're mine so even if science says you aren't, you sure as hell are." I paused. "If your mom asks, I said heck there, okay?"

Zoey gurbled up at me.

I took a deep breath and continued on walking through the aquarium. My phone rang while Zoey and I were in the dark room with the jellyfish, their tentacles glowing bright. I could see Zoey's eyes following them as they fluttered through their fish tanks. I pulled out my cell, expecting it to be Ashley, but instead I saw AJ's picture on the display. I walked out of the jellyfish exhibit and to a corner where there wasn't anyone around before answering.

"Hello?"

"Nick," AJ's voice was panicked.

"AJ?"

"Nick, it's AJ."

"No shit. What's wrong?"

"It's Brian."

"What?"

"He's on the way to the hospital. Chris fucked him up man, he fucked him up real good."

"What!" I stood up, Zoey stared up at me. "What do you mean? What happened?"

"The dumbfuck tried to serve the papers --"

"I told him to hire someone!" I cried.

"Yeah well he didn't. He tried to do it himself. And he got fuuucked up man. I don't know the details I just know Kevin said the hospital called him 'cos he's Brian's emergency contact person and Kevin called me and Howie and we're all on the way over to the hospital. You need to get your ass over here."

"Man, I'm in Boston," I said.

"Boston? What the fuck you doing in Boston?"

"When Ashley and I found out about Chris being released, we left town."

"Shit man. Well I'll call you when I know what's going on. No cell phones in the ICU."

And just like that, AJ hung up.

My knees felt rather like the jellyfish.

After: Did They Get the Shooter?


Ashley

"In a grocery store?" Presley asked. Her voice shook, like I'd some how shattered her view, like she'd found grocery stores to be safe places before. I guess most everyone else would think they were. When you haven't been through all I've been through. Zoey's the only one of my kids who seemed unphased by the words. She, of course, knew exactly what happened.

"Who shot him?" Oliver demanded. His voice was rough, as rough as I've ever heard Oliver, my soft spoken, sweetheart of a boy, sound.

I took a deep breath. This was gonna be told my way. Despite their questions. "We were fighting. I don't remember why, it was so trivial that it faded out of my mind almost instantly..." I bit my lip, stared down at my hands on the table. "Then I remembered we needed milk at home, and I got out of the car and I went inside to tell him and he was there, in the produce section, he was picking up a bunch of bananas. And the sound of it - God, the sound of it. It echoed in the store so loudly, and people everywhere dropped down, but your dad..." I closed my eyes. I could see it in my mind. "He dropped... but... for a different reason. And I saw the blood blossom out on his shirt." I choked. I couldn't breathe.

All four kids, even Zoey who knew, were crying. I saw the tears hanging from even Oliver's eyelashes. He'd diverted his gaze to the floor, an almost sick expression on his face.

"I've never run so fast in my life as I did to get to him..."

I could still smell the blood in the air. I could still see his eyes as he grabbed onto me, clutched my arm, stared into my eyes... could still hear him trying to get out the words...

My jaw trembled.

Leslie's voice was thin, "Did they get the shooter?"




Nick

I didn't know where I was, so I didn't know how to go home. I just drove and waited and hoped I was going the right way. The wheel trembled beneath my fingers, and I thought of nothing but Ashley.

I thought about birthdays and anniversaries and Valentines and midnights spent roasting marshmellows over the grill on the back deck. I thought of the excitement of the kids being born, and of countless kisses, hugs, and nights in each others arms. I thought of the day we drove two miles per hour along behind Oliver the first time he wanted to walk to school alone. I thought of Leslie's first bicycle, with the purple streamers and the Disney Princess basket on the front. I thought of long nights we spent watching DVDs and Ashley jumping at the scary parts, about Steve Perry breaking down the bathroom door one night to leap onto her lap when she screamed over a particularly tense moment in a movie. I thought about the lives that we'd made, the times we'd shared, the love we'd grown.

As I drove, I really saw things. I was alone on the road, so I allowed my eyes to wander. I saw the trees, I saw the way the sunlight came through their leaves. I really saw all the colors in the sun's rays, and the way it lit up the edges of a cloud like it was glowing from the inside out. It was beautiful, the world, I thought to myself. I saw stuff and thought that Louis Armstrong should be singing in the background as I looked at everything. And I dunno maybe it was heavenly stuff, maybe that's why it looked so beautiful, I have no idea. But it was beautiful.

I don't know how long it took, I lost track of time then as I did with everything else. Maybe it was days, maybe it was weeks, maybe minutes, seconds even. I don't know. But when the tour bus pulled up in front of the house, I could feel her, like gravity.

Before: Always Love


Ashley

I sat in Patrick's living room, looking around as he went and got drinks. He came back with orange juice and a bowl of popcorn, which he put on the coffee table in front of me. I'd picked up the picture from the prom and was holding it in my hands. He nodded toward it as he setteled down on the couch a couple feet from me. "That was 1968," he said. "Twelve years before you were born."

I stared down at the picture. "You went to prom together."

"Actually, that was home coming," he said. "Our freshman year. You mom found that dress at a thrift store and fixed it up..." he smiled. "We looked way more like hippies by the time we graduated."

"My mom was a hippie?" I looked up.

Patrick laughed, "The hippies were a dying breed in the 70s, taken over by disco queens, but yes, your mother was a hippie. As much as one could be in the 70s, anyway."

I laughed. "What was she like? My mom?" I asked.

Patrick's face was sad. "She was perfect," he said. A tear slipped across his cheek and he swipe at it with his fist. "God, I can't even think of her without crying," he said. He took a deep breath. "She was one of those people whose personality just... fills a room. You know what I mean? Like you can't ignore them, they're everywhere. They're like fire."

I thought of Nick. I nodded.

"She could make magic, I swear it. She'd walk into a room and it'd suddenly seem brighter, and her laugh --" he chuckled, "Oh boy, her laughter could've made anyone laugh at any thing. And she loved to laugh. She loved jokes. The dirtier the better. She loved dirty poetry. She loved Sylvia Plath."

I laughed.

Patrick rubbed his beard. "She used to go dancing outside when it rained. She would wear these big ugly rain boots that belonged to her dad and she'd spin around in the puddles. She had a Chia pet named Earl."

"A chia pet?"

"Yeah," Patrick laughed. "She made me baby sit it once when her family went on vacation. She didn't want Earl to die."

"Were you always close?"

Patrick sighed, "Well, yes and no. I met her in middle school. She transferred to the private school I was going to because they couldn't keep her in public school. She cut more classes than she went to. Her parents thought private school would help. It wasn't that Monica wasn't smart, she was. She just.. hated school. She could've wowed them, could've done solid A's in every class if she'd just applied herself."

"I used to be a teacher," I said, "I've seen those kids."

Patrick laughed, "Monica's daughter, a teacher. My God, the irony."

"How did you end up together?"

Patrick took a deep breath, "Well, really, in that picture," he gestured at the homecoming photo in my hands, "We weren't together, persay. We went together as friends. That's all she ever wanted to be was friends. She was like a wild horse. She was too free. She never wanted to be bogged down by love, she said all the time. I loved her, I felt like a prisoner, I loved her so much." Patrick shook his head. "I think that's what appealed to her so much about Henry."

"What?"

"Henry drove a truck, he was always coming and going, in and out of town. She liked the freedom, how he could just get in his truck and go and see the whole coastal route. She liked the way he told stories about his buddies and the people he met. She thought it was all so glamourous..." Patrick frowned. "She'd disappear for weeks at a time, riding along with him on his route. She'd come back with fantastic stories and subtle changes in her personality. Little bits at a time she changed. In little ways. There wasn't nothing blatantly huge or obvious, it was just little things... Like the way she spoke, the way she stopped rambling when she talked. She wore different clothes, did her hair differenty. Then one day she stopped calling. Her visits home became less and less frequent... and one day, she just stopped coming home altogether."

I thought about how Chris had gotten the year before, leading up to our marriage. How he'd wanted to be involved in everything, but how his being involved had slowly isolated me from my friends. I'd once had so many friends I couldn't count them. Then Chris happened and it seemed overnight everything changed and now I could count my friends on one hand.

Patrick's eyes softened suddenly, "When she came home next it was to me. To this very apartment..." He looked at the door, as though he expected her to burst through it. As though he expected it to happen all again. "She was broken then," he said, "Tired from driving two days straight, starving half to death. Thin as a rail." He shook his head. "She told me he was beating her, showed me the bruises. She was afraid of everything, every noise, every move I made. Cowered." He looked away from the door. "It broke my heart," he said, "To see her like that. Afraid. If there was one thing Monica never was, it was afraid. She was the bravest woman I ever knew." He took a deep breath, "She was married to a beast."

I felt tears rolling down my cheeks.

"She stayed here," Patrick said, rubbing his palms on his ripped jeans. "She stayed with me because I swore to keep her safe. It took a long time for her to dare to trust me, to leave the apartment even to go to the store. But time passed and she started to open up, started to return to who she'd been before Henry was in her life. I started to recognize her again." He closed his eyes, "They were the best three months of my life," he whispered. "The time I had with her. I wanted to be her everything since the moment I laid eyes on her, I loved her so much, I just wanted to keep her safe, to be loved by her..." When he opened his eyes again, he said, "And she did love me for those three months. She did. She promised to marry me, promised she'd get a divorce from Henry, we made plans. We were going to move to Cape Cod." He smiled sadly. "But then she just went back to him."

"Why?"

"I don't know," Patrick replied. "I don't know."

I looked down at my hands.

"I kept trying to call her, to tell her to come back, to beg her to come back," he continued, "But he would intercept the calls. He would scream at me to never call again, to leave them alone. It scared me that no matter what time of day I called she was never the one to pick up, it was always only him there. I was truly afraid for her." Patrick drew a deep breath, "So I wrote to her."

I looked up. This was something that Henry had not told me in his letter. This was new.

"It took a long time, but when she wrote back all she'd put on the page was," he cleared his throat, "I'm pregnant. I will always love you. Monica."

The tone he spoke the words in I knew it was a letter that he'd read and cherished for years. My hands shook as I reached for his hand. I put my tiny fingers gently over his own large hands. He had hands like a lumberjack, big and calloused and rough.

"I left her alone. I thought it was better. But I read that letter everyday. Then I did the math." He looked at me. "She was with me for three months," he said quietly, "And depending how pregnant she was... So I went to her. I wanted to know. I had to know. It was consuming me, I couldn't stop thinking about it. I sat in my car on the curb in front of the house and waited until I saw Henry leave, and I sprinted to the door and when she answered... she had you in her arms."

"Was the timing... right?"

Patrick nodded. "Either she was pregnant when she came to me three months before and didn't know it, or..." he paused. "You know."

I nodded.

"She denied that, she denied it was even possible you were mine. She denied ever loving me, ever needing me. She told me that she'd lied about Henry hurting her, and she told me to go, to leave, and to never come back. She told me she hated me. I showed her the letter. The one where she said she would always love me. And she ripped it from my hands, she tore it up, threw the pieces to the wind. I told her if she changed her mind to come to me, and that I'd stay for a week so that she had time to think. She slammed the door." He reached for the picture frame in my hand, pulled it open from the back. "This was the only piece I was able to catch before they blew away..."

Laying on the backside of the photo was a yellowed piece of notebook paper. The only words on it were always love in a scripty, messy handwriting that I'd never seen before. My mother's handwriting.

"I never saw her alive again," he choked the words, his voice hardly came out, "When I saw the news... that he shot her..." The anguish in Patrick's face was so deep... "He told me later that it was an accident, but that's bullshit. It's bullshit. I knew it was bullshit when I looked at his eyes. He pulled the trigger because he couldn't stand the idea that she could love someone else more than him."

It was terrifying, how similar my mother's story was to my own, and it made my stomach curl and twist at the thought of Christopher out there somehere, free. Free to pull a trigger because, by admission, he couldn't stand the idea of me loving something more than him, either.

The door buzzer broke the tension in the room, ringing out loudly, repeatedly. Patrick stood up, swiping the tears from his face with the back of that big old hand of his, and walked swiftly to the door. "Hello?" he asked into the intercom.

"Let me up," it was Nick. He was gasping, like he'd just run a mile.

"Nick?" I looked up.

Patrick buzzed him up.

Patrick and I both went out to the steps. Nick was charging up them, his arms wrapped protectively around the knapsack that held Zoey, who was crying. Nick's feet thundered. "Brian.. Brian..." he gasped, and I saw panic in his eyes, "Chris beat the fuck out of Brian," he gasped as he nearly fell on the last couple steps.

Panic ripped through my veins.

Patrick looked between Nick and I, "Who is Brian? Who is Chris?"

I took Zoey from Nick's pouch. "Brian is Nick's best friend... and..." I hated that I had to tell Patrick this story, hated that he had to know how history was repeating itself. "...Chris is my husband."

Patrick looked down at Nick, then back up at me. "Oh Ashley," he whispered, putting it all together.




Nick

I'd run from the T stop to Patrick's apartment pellmell through all the game goers, my heart had throbbed every step of the way. Zoey was crying. What if Brian died? that was all I could think. What if he was dead and it as because of me, because I hadn't been clear enough, because I'd asked him to serve the papers in the first place? How could I ever forgive myself if I lost my best friend because he was doing a favor for me?

I needed Ashley. I needed her touch, her arms, her scent. Which was why I was running. I thought I might go crazy if I didn't have her, if I couldn't feel her touch.

After Patrick buzzed me in, I ran up the stairs. I saw her waiting, my focus only on her, I ran all the harder to get to her, closing the gap. "Brian," I gasped, "Brian. Chris beat the fuck out of Brian." I saw the fear register in her eyes, and she took Zoey. I wanted nothing more than to curl up and have her wrap around me like a blanket, like a shield, like she could keep the hurt from reaching me. I pictured Brian laying in a hospital bed, pictured him on oxygen, pictured him dying.

"Who is Brian?" Patrick asked, "Who is Chris?"

"Brian is Nick's best friend," Ashley replied, "And Chris is my husband."

"Oh Ashley," Patrick whispered.

He ushered us quickly into the apartment. Patrick went to get a drink for me, and Ashley turned to me, "Nick, what can I do?"

"Hug me," I whispered.

Ashley put Zoey into her carrier and set me down on the couch and held out her arms. I leaned into her, pressed my face into her brought my arms around her waist. She put hers around my shoulders, and she laid her face against my cheek. It was like being reenergized, like a battery recharging. I needed her like that.

"AJ called me," I choked into the folds of her shirt, "He said Brian's real bad, he said he's in ICU."

I heard Patrick come back into the living room, heard a glass clink on the table in front of Ashley and I, but I didn't move from her embrace. "What happened exactly?" he asked.

"Nick? What happened?" Ashley asked after I'd been quiet a moment without answering.

Reluctantly, I pulled away from her. "He tried to serve the annullment forms," I said, "And... I don't really know from there, that's all AJ knew, that he got beat up. I don't know what happened. I just know he's in ICU now."

"Is this situation... what I think it is?" Patrick asked quietly.

Ashley looked over at him. She nodded.

Before: Across the Continent


Ashley

I was woken up during the night by Nick as he climbed onto the bed and pressed his face against my stomach, crying. I don't know when he got up, but the weight of his head against my abdomen, the heat of his tears, these things woke me up. I sat up, and he moved with me, clutching his arms around my waist. I ran my hands through his hair as he laid, head in my lap, choking back a sob. "Nick," I whispered, "What is it? Did one of the guys call?" I felt a rush of fear go through my veins, ice cold.

Nick shook his head, "I just can't believe this is happening," he said thickly.

I stroked his hair, relieved that at least it wasn't the worst, as I'd thought.

"Maybe we should go back to LA," I said.

"We can't go back to LA," Nick replied.

"But you need to be there for him," I said, "If anything happened, you'd never forgive yourself. You'd never forgive me."

"Nothing's going to happen," he said.

"Nick I can't go through that again," I said.

He was quiet. "I know," he said. "Neither can I."

In 1998, when Brian had his heart surgery, Nick wasn't there for him. It was one of the many crucibles that shattered Nick, the straw that broke the camel's back. The Boys had been going through some really turbulant times, struggling with each other, struggling with management, with unbearable schedules. For almost two years if I wanted to see Nick I had to go to his shows and sit backstage while he rehearsed and got ready and everything. It was a crazy time, and during it, Brian had met Leighanne and gotten engaged, and his heart had started acting up and Nick was oblivious to it, mostly because Brian hadn't said anything, but partly because Nick was caught up with his own problems with Lou Pearlman and the tours and family and everything. But he and Brian had been fighting at the time when Brian finally broke out from the band and went to have the operation done. And none of the Boys had gone to be by his bedside.

Now I can't speak for any of the other guys, but I know Nick was sorry. I know this because it was me that he cried to on May 8th, when Kevin got the news that Brian was in the surgery, Nick called me and asked me to meet him, and we went to the old pipe we used to sit in when we were kids and he put his head in my lap, just like this, and he cried.

The weeks and months and years following were the hardest. For both of us, though for different reasons. Nick had fallen apart. He'd started using drugs - hard drugs - and he was lost. I lived at the house he owned in Tampa for a couple years starting in the Summer of 1998, but he was almost never there. It was terrifying, loving him so much and seeing him break apart like that. And I know it wasn't just Brian that had broken him, I know better than that, but the thought of him losing Brian... made me wonder if it wasn't still in him to shatter.

"I really think we should go back to Los Angeles and see him," I said.

Nick struggled to sit up. "I can't bring you and Zoey back to LA right now, not with Chris out there. No." He shook his head, "I just can't do that."

"But Nick, he's your best friend."

"But if something happened to you or Zoey, I would die," he said. He stared me right in the eyes, "I refuse to put you in danger."

"I could stay with Patrick," I said. "Me and Zoey, we could stay here. You could go back and see Brian."

Nick looked uncomfortable.

"Nick you used to travel all over the place without me," I said, "I've held my own a thousand times... I'll be okay for a couple days while you go see your friend." I took his hands, "I'm a big girl."

"I know..." he let out a low sigh, "I just... I dunno."

"Please, Nick," I said, "I just don't want you to regret this moment in the future."

He took a deep breath. And the look in his eyes... I knew he'd go.




Nick

It felt wrong.

The plane landed in Los Angeles less than twenty-four hours later, and I stepped out into the airport with Zoey and Ashley thousands of miles away. I brought only a carry-on bag because I didn't want to commit to staying away from the girls longer than what I could pack for in a duffle. I'd moved all our luggage to Patrick's apartment that afternoon. Ashley said said goodbye and to give Brian a good reprimanding for her when I saw him, and I'd kissed Zoey on the forehead and now here I was. Clear across a continent from them.

I got a taxi cab to the hospital and I found Kevin in the waiting room. He looked exhausted. "Hey," he said, standing up. He'd been expecting me, I'd texted him from the airport. He puleld me into a hug, then backed away, "He just got out of surgery."

"Is he okay?" I asked.

"As okay as can be expected," Kevin replied.

"What was the surgery for?" I asked.

"One of his ribs was broken, it punctured a lung. They did a patch yesterday but it didn't take so they had to go back in today." Kevin sighed. "He was in a lot of pain. He's on morphine." He paused. "Leighanne was here. With Baylee."

I frowned, "How'd that go?"

"The morphine kinda made it awkward," Kevin muttered.

"How's that?"

"Brian didn't exactly hold back anything," Kevin replied, shoving his hands into his pockets, "He, uh, called her a few choice words."

"About fluffin' time somebody did it," I said.

Kevin raised one of his beastly eyebrows.

"I have a kid now, we edit words like that now," I said.

Kevin laughed, but it didn't reach his eyes, where the anxiety about Brian was living. "C'mon, we can probably get back in his room by now," he said, glancing at his watch, "It's been a couple hours. Maybe he'll even be awake." He grabbed a baseball cap he'd left on his seat and a rolled up copy of National Geographic, then led the way up to Brian's room.

Brian was in the hospital bed, his chest was bandaged up, wrapped like a mummy. His chest, exposed above the bandage, was bruised dark purple and yellow, a color that was matched around his jaw line and eyes. I felt sick. Kevin walked around the side of Brian's bed. "Hey cuz," he said, "Guess who's here to see ya? It's Nick."

I heard a slight gurgle of a response and Brian's head turned ever so slowly to look at me. A muscle in his cheek twitched, I think that was as close to a smile as he could get. "'ey Frack," he barely breathed the words.

"Hey," I said, stepping up. I swallowed.

"You were right," he whispered, "More to Chris than I...gave him credit for..."

"I told you," I said thickly. "You dumbass, I told you to hire someone."

"I wanted to do it for you," Brian said.

I looked up at Kevin, "So ya'll called the cops, right? Did they arrest Chris again yet?"

Kevin took a deep breath. "Well... not...exactly."

"Chris didn't do it," croaked Brian.

Kevin thumbed at Brian. "Chris had one of his friends do it. His friend's in jail, but Chris is denying he had anything to do with it."

"That's bull shit..."

"I served him though," Brian said, his cheek twitching. "Ashley can get the ruling for the annullment. Y'all can get married."

Kevin looked at Brian's morphine drip. "How much of that stuff are you on?" he looked at me, "He isn't serious. You aren't... are you?"

"I haven't officially asked yet...but..."

Kevin smiled, and this time it did reach his eyes. "Shit, Nick, you're all growed up."

"Sorta," I answered.

"You know what I told him?" Brian asked.

I looked down. "Told who? Chris?"

"Yeah."

"What'd you tell him?"

"When I served the papers I said you been served bitch!"

"Maybe that's why he beat you up."

"Actually..." Brian's voice was thinning even more as the morphine kicked in, his eyelids getting droopy. "Actually, it was funny, they thought you were there... they saw your car..." He nodded slowly as he spoke, "They broke in...they thought they were gonna find you. I just.. got in... the..... way......" And Brian fell asleep.

I looked up at Kevin.

Before: All The Single Ladies (All the Single Ladies)


Nick

I stayed by Brian until the nurses kicked me out once visiting hours were over. Then I wandered downstairs to the waiting area. I stood staring at the seats that Chris and I had occupied the day Zoey was born. The ones he said he and Ashley had occupied the day I was in the plane crash. And it suddenly occurred to me: Brian had successfully served the annullment request forms to Chris, which meant we were one step closer to Ashley being freed from Chris. One step closer to the day when the 'time would be right' and I could ask Ashley to marry me and she would say yes.

I needed a ring.

I called AJ.

We made plans to meet up the next morning. "I gotta guy," he said.

AJ is one of those people who have a guy for everything. He's got the city tapped tighter than if he was Air Force frickin' One. Whenever you need something, you just go to AJ. He has a guy for it. And if he doesn't, he's gotta guy who will get a guy for him for whatever it is. I'm serious. AJ hasn't had to put legitimate work into finding something on his own since... well, I don't know if he ever has.

I mean when you've got a guy to help you find guys, you've pretty much reached the limit.

I stayed at the hospital. It seemed like the safest thing to do. Even if Chris had somehow found out where I was at, I figured he'd never come down to the hospital. And if he did, there wasn't a hell of a lot he could do. And even if there was something he could do, at least I was at the hospital when he did it. So I camped out in this little closed off waiting room that nobody else was in under a blanket I stole from a push cart in the hallway, laying across the chouch.

The next morning, I left the blanket and wandered down the hallway in search of the bathroom. I brushed my teeth with my fingers. I was about to try to find the cafeteria when AJ texted and asked when I wanted to go see about the ring with his ring guy and I texted back anytime was fine and he informed me he was waiting out front.

"Hey," he said as I got into the car. "You see Brok?"

"Yesterday," I answered. "Visiting hours haven't started again yet."

"He look any better?" AJ asked.

"If that was better then I don't wanna know what he looked like before," I replied.

AJ sighed. "Beatin' up BRok is like kicking a god damn puppy," he said.

I nodded.

"Fucking assholes," AJ spat out the window of his car.

He drove downtown to a seedy part of the city, and parked along a narrow street lined with shops that I doubt anyone really went into. I glanced at AJ. "Your ring guy's ...here?" I asked.

"Yeah," AJ nodded. He got out of the car. I blinked at the homeless guys congregating at the end of the street, eye-balling AJ's rather fancy ride. I hesitated. AJ was putting his card into the parking meter. I got out. "C'mon, this way." AJ waved down the street and started walking. If he noticed my hesitance, he didn't say anything about it.

I walked after him feeling nervous, like I was being trailed or something. He led me to this antique shop that was on the lower level of a brickstone building. We went down the steps into the submerged, shop door that looked closed even though the light in the window said open. Inside wasn't much better than the outside. It smelled dusty, probably from the thick layer that coated everything in the damn store. We walked past a row of old chairs, dusty mason jars, half-furless teddies with one eye, and a row of plastic cupie dolls that smiled with their creepy little faces and splayed arms.

In the back of the store, AJ hit a bell on a counter decked with a register that was probably older than half the shit in the store. I looked around. There was a big crate of vintage Playboy magazines by the register, right next to a plastic bin full of old McDonalds Happy Meal toys and an old CB radio. Almost a solid two minutes after AJ had hit the bell, a little short guy that reminded me of a dirty hobbit came out of a back room, whose door was covered by a tapestry. I wondered what the hell was back there. I pictured big Russian guys playing poker and roulette.

"Hey T-Dawg," AJ greeted the Hobbit. "My friend here is in need of a diamond ring."

"Very nice, let me get them," T-Dawg replied, and he ducked back behind the curtain.

I edged closer to AJ. "Are we sure this is - you know, like... Legal and shit?"

"Why the hell wouldn't it be legal?" AJ asked.

I blinked. If I needed to tell him why this whole outfit was sketchy then we had way bigger fish to fry than the fact that I wasn't entirely positiove on the legitimacy of the business being run here. So I let it go. I shrugged.

"T-Dawg buys estates," he said, as though this would explain all the sketchiness.

"Oh," I said.

A moment later, T-Dawg re-entered the room, carrying a box. He climbed up on a stool on the otherside of the counter and put the box down. It unfolded into several trays full of diamond rings. He waved his hands across the assortment of them. "Of course they come in different sizes," he said. He pulled out a stick-like object from the bottom of the box. "I have a sizer. Of course they can all be resized by a professional jeweler."

"Okay." I answered. I looked over the rings. I really didn't want to like any of them. I wanted to humor AJ about his ring guy then go somewhere real like Tiffany's or whatever. But my eye immediately caught on one and I reached for it. T-Dawg swatted my hand away, then lifted it up himself.

"18 karat white gold, a two-and-a-quarter karat diamond. Comes with the matching wedding band set for man and wife." T-Dawg said. He dropped it onto the sizer. "Seven on the womens rings... Ten on the mens."

The detailed work on the gold on the rings reminded me of the crown of the princess in Neverending Story. It had gentle leaf-like detail that curved all the way around. Then on the top was the diamond, set in an almost box-like shape, embellished with tiny dimples, encasing the diamond itself, as though protecting it within.

My heart rate picked up. "How much?" I asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

T-Dawg looked me over, considered me. "One-fifty."

"Thousand?"

"Hundred Thousand."

"$150,000?" I repeated.

"It's a big stone, see," he said. "Really it's a steal."

"Yeah, for you," I said.

"One hundred."

I considered this. It was a vintage ring. It was two and a quarter karats. It did have the wedding bands. "Seventy-five," I said.

"You're robbing me," T-Dawg said. He looked at AJ, whose head was bobbing between the two of us like he was watching a tennis match, "You're friends with a robber."

"Eighty."

T-Dawg thought for a moment.

"Ninety-five,"he said.

"Ninety. Final offer."

AJ stared at T-Dawg, as though waiting breathlessly for an exciting conclusion. T-Dawg hesitated. I almost blurted out I'd go with ninety-five, but I caught myself just in time. And thankfully so, because T-Dawg finally said, "You drive a hard bargin." Then he closed the box of diamond rings and quickly whisked it away, returning a moment later with the rings I'd chosen in a ziplock baggie. "Cash or credit, sir?"

Fifteen minutes and a great deal of debt later and I stepped out into the sketchy street with AJ, where the sunlight was so bright in contrast to T-Dawg's shop that I had to squint all the way back to the car, which I was kinda surprised hadn't been stripped for parts while we were inside. The entire way back to the car, AJ was singing under his breath.

"If ya liked it then you shouldda put a rinnng on it, if ya liked it then ya shouldda put a riiing on it.. dont' be mad once you see that he want it...cause if you liked it then you shouldda put a ring on it.. oh ohohh ohohohoh.. ohohohhh ohoh ohhhhh..."

He was still happily singing away when my phone rang. I glanced down at it. It was Ashley. "Shut up," I said, "It's her. She can't know." I swatted at him 'til he stopped. Though he kept humming under his breath.




Ashley

I put off calling Nick as long as I possibly could. It was about ten in California when I finally decided he had to be up and about and I wouldn't be disturbing him from sleeping or anything. It took him several rings to answer and when he did, I could hear AJ in the background laughing. "'Lo," he greeted me.

"Hey, it's me."

"Hey baby," he said.

"Hey." It felt good just to hear his voice. It'd been less than 24-hours he'd been gone and yet it felt like years.

"How's Zoey?" he asked.

It made me happy that was the first thing he asked. I hugged her to me. She was laying on me sucking her fingers and watching the colors move on the muted TV set. "She's good, she finds daytime television interesting."

"How's Patrick?"

I grinned. "Nick, he's amazing. He taught English to kids in India for a year, and he met Mother Theresa. He has a picture with her. No lie."

"No way."

"Way."

"Does he look like a giant next to her?" Nick asked.

"Yes," I laughed. "And even better, he's got all these old pictures of my mom, and letters from her. He has notes she passed him during class in high school and stuff. It's so weird, seeing all this stuff of her. It's ao amazing. I can't hardly even believe it."

We'd spent the entire evening after Nick left for LA talking and looking through boxes of stuff he had left over from when my mother was alive. He'd made salmon and rice for dinner and we'd watched a documentary on TV and he hadn't even laughed when I freaked out over penguins. He'd just smiled.

"That's awesome, babe," Nick said. I heard AJ singing in the background, but I couldn't make out what it was he was singing.

"I'm so excited," I said. "Nick, I finally have a father."

"I'm happy for you, Ashley," his voice was sincere.

There was a long pause ,and finally, I asked the question I'd been dreading the answer to. "How's Brian?"

"He's... they messed him up pretty bad," Nick said slowly. "They broke his ribs. Punctured his lung. They had to do surgery today to patch the hole. His face and chest is all bruised..."

I felt sick. I pictured Brian standing by the terminal hugging Nick, and it broke my heart to picture him- the happy go lucky Brian -maimed and stuck in a hospital bed. A wave of profound guilt washed over me and I ran my finger tip along Zoey's chubby arm. "Did you tell him I'm sorry?"

"He wouldn't even let me tell him I was sorry," Nick said, "He was too proud of himself..." he paused. "Ashley, when he served the papers, he said he said -- are you ready for this? Now picture Brian saying this, 'cos it's only funny if you remember it was Brian... but he said he gave Chris the papers and said 'You've been served, bitch!'"

I choked on a laugh. Zoey looked up at me in surprise. Apparently she hadn't been expecting the chough-choke-laugh that had escaped me. "Oh my God, "I laughed, "No wonder he beat him up." I continued laughing.

Then Nick broke into my words, "He said they were there for me."

I stopped laughing.

After: Name One Single Valid Reason


Nick

I climbed down the two steps of the bus to the sidewalk that ran in front of the house. I don't know if my heart was really pounding in my chest or if I just thought that it should be. Do hearts pound after you die? Probably not. I rushed to the front door as though I was waking up from a bad dream, and when I glanced back the tour bus seemed so far away and hazy, like I'd run miles instead of moments. I broke through the door - literally through it, though it did not break, it just was no challenge for me to walk through it somehow - and I looked around the house.

"ASHLEY!" I shouted. "ASHLEY!" I listened, and I heard her voice, talking, calmly, rhythmically. I rushed to the sound of it, through the living room... down the hallway... past the kitchen... these rooms I knew so well, they looked exactly like I remembered them... and there she was, sitting beside my spot at the kitchen table. All my kids were there around the table. I ran up, expecting them to all look up at me as I burst into the room. But nothing. No response. "Guys! I'm here! I'm here, look! I'm back!" I said. But still, they didn't look up.

"Did they get the shooter?" Leslie asked.

Ashley shook her head, "No," she answered.

"What!" Oliver stood up and I thought for a moment that he'd spotted me. "What do you mean no?" he demanded, "How could they not get the shooter? They shot dad in a grocery store, and they didn't get the shooter?"

I looked at Oliver. "Can't you see me? I'm here! Oliver..." I ran over to him, waved my hands, "Oliver, look at me, son. I'm here."

"No," Ashley said, "They didn't get the shooter."

I turned to Presley. "Sweetie... sweetie, daddy's here. I'm here, look."

"But there had to have been security footage," Oliver argued, "Something."

"Your father didn't press charges against the shooter," Ashley replied.

I turned to Leslie. "Hey Kiddo. Can you see your old man?"

Leslie was gnawing on her lower lip, but her eyes didn't register me at all. Steve Perry looked up from the floor, hers were the only eyes that landed on me squarely. She tilted her head to one side and sniffled the air by my feet. "Steve Perry," I said, "Tell Leslie I'm here. Go on, tell her."

"Didn't press charges!?" Oliver banged his hand against the table, "What do you mean? Why the hell wouldn't he press charges when a crazy person opens fire on him?"

Steve Perry barked.

Leslie waved her hand at her, "Shh, Steve Perry," she commanded.

"Your father just wanted to let it go," Ashley said quietly.

Steve Perry barked again.

"Yeah that's it, Steve Perry," I said, "C'mon, tell her I'm here. Tell her."

"Steve Perry, stop it," Leslie said, "Or I'll put you outside."

"No, no that's not acceptable that dad just let it go," Oliver shouted. "There's no reason on the planet for dad to just let it go when someone shoots him!"

"There are reasons," Ashley snapped.

I turned to Zoey, "Honey... sweetie..."

She didn't blink.

"Like what?! Name one single valid reason for Dad to NOT press charges against the person that shot him!" Oliver shouted.

Ashley looked up, her eyes staring right through me. Her nostrils flared with emotion, her eyes welled up. "Because," she said thickly, "It was me."




Ashley

There are certain things that I've never told any of my children. Even Zoey, who knew more than the other kids. Things that were mine to keep in my heart. Many of them were about Nick and I and the times we had before Zoey was old enough to remember, before she was born. There are some things that are just hard to tell kids, even when they're old enough, some things that they don't need to know about you, or that you don't particularly want them to know.

The story of Nick and I and Chris was one of those things.

I'd kept the whole thing about Chris from all of them. All of them except Zoey, who of course knew because Christopher was her father and she had to find out. There was no getting around that... Especially when... Well. It was just impossible for her not to know.

But the others didn't know.

And unfortunately answering Leslie's question about if they got the shooter or not was not possible to answer without telling them the entire story. I was planning to start from the beginning. From I met your father when we were eight years old playing Chicken in the schoolyard in Florida to the part where we said I do to the moment when Nick's eyes closed that last time and I'd felt that shudder of a final breath... but they'd interrupted me, run me off course from how I wanted to tell it, and now here we were... I'd said too much too quick and Oliver was staring at me, his eyes wide with shock and a sick expression.

All the kids - even Zoey - were staring at me.

"Mummy," whispered Presley, "Why would you shoot Daddy?" she asked.

Tears began to pour from my eyes. Suddenly the room felt very tiny, very cold, very cruel. I folded in on myself, put my arm on the table and pressed my face into the crook of it and sobbed.

I felt hands on my shoulders, rubbing my neck, and I looked up, expecting Oliver to be standing behind me, but he was still across the table. The moment I moved, the feeling stopped, and I felt more of a chill down my spine than anything else. None of the kids had moved. I glanced around.

"Mom."

Leslie's voice snapped me back to the moment.

I blinked. "I -" I paused. I had the weirdest feeling... like... warmth. I looked around again. "Do you guys feel that?" I asked.

"Feel what?" Presley asked.

I didn't know how to explain it. I didn't have words to put around it. I looked around some more. There was nothing. I felt my own forehead. "I... I don't know. Nevermind."

"Mum," Oliver's word was a plea. He stared at me and I could see him asking the question with his eyes. Why would you shoot Dad? his eyes asked me, Why would you take him away from us?

But I couldn't even begin to piece together an answer.

"I need to lie down," I choked.

"But the story --" Presley started, but Zoey shook her head.

"If mumma needs to lie down," Leslie said, "Then she needs to lie down."

"Of course you would say that," Oliver said, "You already know the whole story, don't you?"

"Actually I don't," Zoey said, "But look at her!" She waved at me. "Mumma, are you okay?"

"Yes," I said. "I just... feel... I just need to lie down." I got up, shaking, and hurried to bed. Because I needed to escape the feeling that Nick was there in the room.

Before: I Gots The Hots For Ya


Nick

I spent the entire afternoon with Brian. We played some cards, watched some TV. The nurse came in and kept checking on him, but his bruises were getting less violently purple, his breathing stronger. We played with one of those breathing exercise things where you blow in the tube and make the ball bounce. We made it a game. It was pretty cool except I kept winning and I knew Brian had to start winning before he would be better. His attempts were pretty lame.

Ashley called in the evening, after visiting hours, and I sat in my private little waiting room with another stolen blanket talking to her. The next day, I repeated the same cycle. Play with Brian all day, sleep in the waiting room. By the fourth day I'd been in Los Angeles, Brian was doing a lot better.

"I was scared to death," I confessed after he'd won the game of blowing the ball up the tube, "That you were really bad off."

"Worse than broken rib puncturing my lungs?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah."

"How's it get worse than that?" he laughed.

"...dead?" I suggested.

Brian's face sobered. "Oh." He paused. "Nick, I don't think you should mess around with these guys," he said, "I mean, I know I was the one that was all oh they can't be that bad, but I recognize I was dead wrong now..." he paused. "Do you guys have a restraining order against Chris?"

"Yeah," I said. Even though I wasn't sure.

Brian nodded, "Good. Because Nick... I think he wants to kill you."

"What?"

"That guy that came to my place," Brian said, a serious expression on his face, "He had a gun."

"Chris has a gun," I said.

Brian nodded, "Yeah, well, this guy was looking for you. Not for Ashley. Not for me. For you."

I chewed the inside of my lower lip. "Cos he knows I ain't gonna let him anywhere near Ashley," I said. I paused. "I'd kill the sick son of a bitch myself if he even tried to lay a hand on her."

Brian looked down at his lap.

I took a deep breath. I wanted to get off this topic. "Wanna see what I got Ashley?" I asked.

Brian looked up. "What?"

I pulled the little box out of my pocket and handed it to him. "I don't know how I'm gonna wait until after the annullment goes through..." I said thickly.

Brian opened the box and stared down at the glinting ring I'd gotten at T-Dawg's shop. His eyes widened, impressed. "Wow," he said quietly. "This is nice." He tilted it, then looked up at me. "Have I told you, Nick, that I'm proud of you?"

I laughed, "You told me that day on the way to the prison."

Brian smiled, "Well, just to repeat it. I am. Proud of you, I mean. You've really grown a lot in the last couple years." He closed the ring box, and handed it back to me. "She's going to love it." He drew a deep breath. "You two, you're meant to be together. You're soulmates." He smiled, teary eyed.

I knew he was thinking about Leighanne.

"Has she called you?"

He sighed, "She came by... with Baylee."

"Kev told me."

He nodded. "But she hasn't followed up any."

I slid the ring back into my pocket. "Well," I said. "I told you back in '97 that she was a bitch," I said.

Brian laughed. "You saw into the future, knew this moment, and tried to warn me."

"Exactly," I said. "I saw this very moment right here. All those times you got pissed at me for hatin' on her. Calling her Boob Job Barbie or whatever." I laughed, "Man, if you had my psychic powers you wouldda been all thankin' my ass for warning you."

"Why didn't you just tell me outright?" Brian laughed.

"Because man that breaks psychic code or somethin'," I said, shaking my head.

Brian smiled, "You should tell me the future more often. I'll listen next time."

"Good deal," I said.

That night, when the nurses kicked me out, I waved to Brian and told him, "My psychic powers say I'll be back in the morning." I winked as I ducked out into the hallway. Brian waved. I headed downstairs to my little private waiting room, snagging my blanket on the way past the carts once again. I'd just tucked myself into the little couch when my phone vibed - Ashley's nightly call. I grinned and answered it, eager to hear her voice. "Ashley, baby," I said, grinning, "How ya be?"

Ashley's voice was low. "I'm missing you," she said.

"I'm missing you too baby," I said.

She paused, "No, Nick. I'm missing you." Her voice turned from low to husky... suggestive, even.

I felt something deep in me twitch. "Oh?"

"Yeah," she said, her voice still husky. "I'm missing you a lot."

I licked my lips. This could get interesting.




Ashley

I don't know what made me do it. But now that I was on the phone with him and I had his attention...I felt kinda stupid. I blame Cosmopolitan Magazine. No good can come from Cosmo. Seriously. I'd bought the stupid thing at the bookstore during a walk with Zoey. I'm not even sure what made me buy it except that I'd been thinking about Nick and wanting to surprise him somehow when he came back and the headline on the cover said "Surprise him with fifty amazing, sexy moves that'll blow his mind!" So I'd just grabbed it and now here I was, testing out Amazing, Sexy Move That'll Blow His Mind #4 -- phone sex.

"I wanna... kiss you," I said, finishing lamely. I put a hand over my eyes, feeling stupid.

"Yeah?"

At least he seemed to be enjoying himself. I wondered how many chicks had had phone sex with him in the past, or if I was the first. Yeah right, I don't think there's a single thing Nick hasn't done that way. But I for one was most definitely a phone virgin.

"Yeah," I said. I tried to think of something sexy to say. "And... I wanna... you know, I wanna touch you and stuff. I miss your hands." There, that sounded sexy, right?

"I miss your hands," he said back. Now his voice was husky too. I wondered if he was like... doing stuff... on his end. I wasn't sure if the thought of it excited me or grossed me out. I wondered where he was.

I looked at the magazine. "If you were here, I'd... do really... really dirty things to you," I said. I felt ridiculous.

"What kinds of dirty things?"

"I uh..." I read through the list of things to do that would blow his mind, but none of them were things I wanted to try reading outloud. "I would um..." I paused. "Okay I'm sorry Nick, I can't do this. I thought I could but I just feel stupid."

"What?"

"I bought this magazine," I said, "And there was an article about blowing your man's mind and I wanted to blow your mind and --"

"Blow my mind?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"Is that like slang for like ...you know..?"

"No it's the name of the article."

"Oh."

"But I can't do this. I can't do it."

"Do what? Blow my mind?"

"No. Not with phone sex."

"Oh," he sounded disappointed. "But... now I gots the hots for ya. Your gonna just stiff me? Again?"

"Aw honey I'm sorry."

"This is uncool Ashley," he said, but his voice carried just a bit of a laugh. "If I get carpal tunnel I'm gonna blame you."

I laughed. "I'll make it up to you."

"How?"

I looked at the page of the magazine again. "Number twenty-seven," I said.

Nick was quiet. "What's number 27?"

"I can't read it out loud, but I promise you'll love number twenty-seven."

Nick was quiet again for a long moment. "Do I get a hint?"

"It's Amazing and Sexy and Cosmopolitan says it'll blow your mind."

Nick took a deep breath. "It's a good thing Brian's gettin' better," he said, "Because it sounds like I'm gonna need to take the next freakin' plane back to Boston that I can get my ass onto before you forget about this deal to do number 27."

I looked down at the page again. "Oh don't worry, Nick," I said, "I think Number 27 is kinda unforgettable."

"Hot damn," he muttered.

Before: Number 27


Nick

After Ashley hung up, I really needed to... you know, unwind. I glanced at the door of the waiting room I was occupying and was just about to start when the door bumped open and a young-ish couple walked in. I pulled my blanket up around me.

"Oh. Hey. Sorry," the guy said, looking at me. The woman looked pale with worry. "Did we wake you up?" he asked.

"No," I replied.

"Sorry," he said. They stood there awkwardly for a moment. I waited, hoping they'd leave. They waited, evidently hoping I'd ask them not to. It was sort of an inpasse. Finally, the guy said, "Mind if we join you?"

"I was just leaving," I lied, and I picked up my duffle bag from the couch - which I'd been using as a pillow - and the blanket. I yanked my phone cord out of the wall. "Have a good night," I said. I kept the blanket carefully wrapped around me. After all, I was sporting a tent.

I walked quickly. There had to be a men's room somewhere around here. Clutching the blanket around me, my mid-region throbbing, I hurried down the sterile-smelling hallway after another, searching for the restrooms. It took me about three minutes to locate one, which, when you're running around in a hospital with a blanket pulled around you like you're a patient from the ding-dong-wing playing Batman or something is a long ass time. I saw it from way down the hallway.

"Yes," I hissed, excited. I hurried toward it. Just as I was about fifteen feet away, a janitor with a big yellow bucket and a mop came whistling down a merging hallway. I stopped short as the guy wheeled his bucket over to the men's room, dropped a wet floor sign, and hitched the door open. "Fuck," I whispered.

I continued down the hallway until I came to the second bathroom. I hurried in and chose a stall, dropped my blanket.

My phone vibed.

I pulled it out. A text from Ashley.

wait til ur in boston ;) itll be more fun and u wont get carpal tunnel

Damn it.

For just a moment, I thought about doing it anyways. She'd never know, I thought. Except she would know because I'd feel guilty and I have this weird thing where my eye twitches just a little when I feel guilty. And if she ever asked me randomly I'd tell her because I'm a stupid bastard like that. Then she'd have an excuse not to do number 27. And I didn't know what Number 27 was but I knew I sure as hell didn't wanna miss doing it with Ashley. That was for damn sure.

ok I texted back.

I shoved the phone back into my pocket.

"Fuck," I whispered. I gathered my blanket up off the floor and pulled it back around me. I shrugged my duffle bag onot my shoulder. Now I had to find a new waiting room to sleep in, too, on top of all of it all.

It took me a good hour to find an unoccupied, private waiting room with a couch like the one I'd had before. But I finally located one. I pulled the door closed behind me and crawled onto the couch, pulling my blanket up around me. I snuggled my head into my duffle bag's softness and plugged my phone into the wall. I used the Southwest app to book a flight to Boston for the next morning and texted a screen cap of my itinerary to Ashley.

pick me up?

She sent back a winking face.

I hoped that meant yes.

I fell asleep and dreamed many dirty, dirty, dirty dreams about what Number 27 could possibly be.




Ashley

People were turning as I walked through the airport. I just knew they were. I held my jacket closed, but I just knew they were somehow seeing through the jacket somehow. Somehow they knew.

I'd left Zoey with Patrick at the apartment. I'd told him Nick was coming home and we were going to dinner and would be back around nine. I felt nervous leaving her - this was, after all, the first time I'd left her - but if Nick and I were gonna do Number 27, it was gonna be at a hotel.

So I'd gotten ready.

Luckily, my jacket was long enough that it covered me.

I'd gone to Victoria's Secret at the mall on the way to the airport. And it'd taken some digging but I'd managed to find something that worked even with the just-had-a-baby extra weight I was carrying. It was a lacy, frilly, pink contraption of a thing that wrapped around me and pushed my boobs up real nice-like. I'd spent a good ten minutes analyzing how I looked in the fitting room before buying it. A bustier they called it. Fucking Uncomfortable is what I'd call it. But I knew Nick would call it sexy as all hell, so I did it for Nick. The thing is the stupid bustier wasn't exactly designed to be worn under anything.

So. I had on my long rain jacket that hung about two inches above my knees and a pair of high heels and under that... the bustier and sheer underwear it came with.

I prayed I was just being paranoid and nobody could really tell what I was wearing under the jacket. But man my paranoia was strong.

I stood at the gate where Nick had told me to meet him. I held up a sign that said Number 27 and waited.

When he came around the corner, his eyes landed on me and he grinned. His duffle bag was flung over his shoulder, his own jacket hung over his arm. He walked quickly over to me. "Hey 27," he said, and he leaned in and pulled me into himself, wrapping his arms around me. I clearly felt the buldging shape of him pressing against me. I laughed into his ear, "I listened," he whispered, "Though I gotta say it was really tough. I had to hold my jacket on my lap the whole flight."

"Then you probably won't need to hear that I'm not wearing any clothes under this jacket to turn you on then?" I whispered.

He tensed. "Fuck," he whispered. "Is that Number 27? Meet me at the airport in nothing but lingerie and a jacket?"

I shook my head, "It's just a bonus."

"Let's go."

He grabbed my hand and, holding the jacket in front of him, he led the way back across the airport to the doors, where a bay of taxis awaited. He climbed into one and I followed. "A hotel," he said to the driver, "Any hotel. It doesn't matter."

"Sir?"

"A nice hotel. One with room service."

"Yes sir." The cabbie pulled away from the curb.

"Close by," Nick added.

"Yes sir."

Nick turned to me. "So...nothing else?" he fingered the buttons on the jacket.

"You'll have to be surprised," I said thickly.

Nick swallowed. "Mmm," he leaned forward and kissed my neck. The cabbie glanced back in his rearview mirror. I cared, but in a way I didn't. I let Nick keep kissing me, and I tried to push everything else out of my mind - all my worries about Chris, about leaving Zoey for the first time - everything except Nick's mouth on my skin.

I closed my eyes. "I love you," I said.

Nick's hands slid across my thigh where the jacket had slipped up during the process of climbing in. His fingers showered sparks of good feelings throughout every nerve in my body. His hand started to slip under the jacket, but I caught it. "Aht-ah," I whispered. Even as I said it, my body screamed at me for stopping him. "Not yet. No peeking."

Nick was breathing heavy. My own chest was heaving. I wondered if the stupid bustier thing would be able to keep my boobs in if I gasped too hard. I prayed for no wardrobe malfunctions. Nick's mouth met mine and he kissed me long and hard and I leaned into the door of the cab.

Suddenly it came to a stop, "We are here," said the cabbie.

Nick threw a hundred dollar bill at him and we went inside the hotel.

Before: Showtime


Ashley

We got a room and we rushed to the elevator. Nick's palm smacked the door close button so fast that there's no way in hell anyone was following us onto that thing. The moment the doors shut, he plowed me into the wall and his mouth met mine, his fingers instantly were in my hair. I wrapped my arms around his back, clutched his shirt, he pressed against me. "I'm... gonna... blow... your... mind..." I muttered around kisses.

"You sound... like my song," he replied.

I laughed, breaking the kiss.

The elevator dinged and we broke apart like shrapnel as it came to a stop. I pushed my hair back, trying to neaten it, held my jacket round the buttons again, and the door opened and a big guy with a little kid wearing arm floaties and a swim suit stepped onto the elevator. The kid had on a snorkeling mask, the breathing tube in his mouth, and he was making honking noises through it. I looked over at Nick. He licked his lips, staring up at the number floor we were on. Eight. We were going to fourteen.

"Afternoon," the big guy said, smiling, friendly. The kid honked. He looked at the numbers on the panel, which Nick was blocking. "Could you hit the pool button?" he asked.

Nick looked at the panel. "Pool is down...We're going up." He looked hopeful.

"Oh fuzzles," the guy replied. "It's okay, though, Teddy here likes to ride the elevator. Isn't that right, Teddy?"

"RIGHT!"

Nick begrudgingly hit the button.

The guy stood there, grinning like a cheshire cat, his hand on the little boy's shoulder. The kid kept honking through the stupid tube. Nick was holding his jacket and duffle bag in front of himself again. I kept my hands on the buttons of my raincoat.

Seriously, longest elevator ride ever known to mankind. I'm not even kidding. The kid honked all the way up to the fourteenth floor, and somewhere around twelve the big guy asked us what we were doing in Boston. "Business or pleasure?" he asked.

"Pleasure," I replied. Nick choked and the guy looked at Nick like he was mental. I decided to mess with Nick's head. "We've always wanted to come in Boston," I said. Nick's lips quivered. He was trying not to laugh. I could see his nostrils flexing with the effort of bottling it in.

"Me and the wife and Teddy here came on a school trip to see the history," the guy replied.

The elevator dinged again, this time on 14, and the doors opened. Nick galloped out. "Well have fun," I said and followed after Nick, "And use protection," I added as the doors closed.

Nick busted a gut. He was doubled over, clutching his knees laughing. "Oh fucking hell, oh Jesus," he wheezed. "I can't believe you."

"What? Did I have a freudian slip?" I asked in an innocent voice. I backed down the hallway toward the hotel room number the desk guy had given us. I looked at the door. Nick was still doubled over several feet away. I took a quick glance either way down the hallway. Then I whistled to get his attention. Nick looked up and started walking toward me. I hesitated. Then I quickly opened the front of my jacket, flashing Nick with my lingerie.

"Holy mother of God," he gasped, and his walk turned into another gallop as he ran down the hall toward me. I closed the jacket. He fumbled with the key in the hotel room door and finally shoved the thing open and we pushed our way into the hotel room. He threw his dufflebag and pulled off his shirt in one fluid motion. I slammed the hotel room door, spun the lock, and stripped the jacket off.

Nick was on me like nobody's business, his heart was pounding so hard I could feel it in his veins as he touched me, like electricity was running through him. He ran his hands across my chest, which was amazingly still in the bustier. I'd kind of half expected my boobs to bounce out of the barely-there cups that only just covered the essentials. He had his hands on my back, his mouth on my neck.

"Oh Nick," I moaned. He kicked off his shoes.

I pulled away from him. "Do you want Number 27, sir?" I asked, backing into the hotel room away from him, in nothing but the silly lingerie and the heels. Nick nodded, all but drooling like a puppy dog, inching closer to me. "Then you need to get on that bed," I said, "And wait for it like a good boy." I sounded so stupid, I almost laughed. But Nick's eyes on mine were so intense, I knew that he didn't think I sounded stupid.

And that's what matters.

Nick took his belt off and threw it down by his shoes. He took off his jeans slowly, staring at me. He had on boxer-briefs underneath, and they were barely containing him. He started to take them off, too, but I said, "No. That's my job," and he stopped. He stared at me.

"What is Number 27?" he asked, voice choked with excitement.

"You're gonna hafta just find out, aren't you?" I asked. I waved at the bed.

Nick literally threw himself onto the bed, scrambling across it, his legs lobster-crawling backward to the pillow, where he propped himself up on his elbows and stared at me, waiting, his chest heaving as he breathed.

I licked my lips.

It's showtime.




Nick

I don't care how much crazy shit I have done, I don't care how many women I've been with, I have never, in my entire life, been more turned on than I was by Ashley as she stood there in that teeny-tiny little frilly whatever that just barely covered her body (and what was covered was mostly covered by sheer material). She stood at the end of the bed, staring down at me, her eyes smokey and her hair touseled from all the making-out we'd been doing. She put her hands down and touched my feet. I felt like I'd been electrocuted. She ran her hands up my ankles. A lump of desire rose in my throat.

She knelt down on the bed and inched forward until she was straddling me, sitting on me, the only thing keeping us apart was the material of my boxers and the sheer material that covered her. "Ashley I --"

"Shh," she whispered. She pressed her finger tip against my mouth. I shhed. She leaned forward and her hair fell over her shoulder, spilling toward me like liquid fire. I reached for her, but she caught my hands and laced her fingers through mine. The further forward she came, the more enticing she looked, her eyes never pulling from mine, until she'd pressed her mouth against my chest and kissed the dead center of me.

Ashley's mouth pressed against me, a line down the center of my chest and abdomen. She crawled backward, her hair dragging across my skin. I wanted to close my eyes with the feeling, but I didn't want to miss a single moment, either. I licked my lips and squeezed her fingers softly. She squeezed back, then released my hands as her mouth reached the waistband on my boxers. She looked up at me, a grin danced in her eyes and she grabbed onto the waist band. With her fucking teeth.

"Holy shit," I breathed as she tugged, backing down, her knees reached the edge of the bed, and to keep pulling she arched her back, her ass going up in the air. I thought I was going to die. Seriously. I couldn't... I was shaking. She got the boxers mostly off and I kicked them off the rest of the way. They hit the floor with a thump.

Her eyes sparkled as she grinned at me. "This hotel room has the most incredible view," she whispered, staring across me.

"I know what you mean," I said thickly, staring up at her.

Ashley licked her lips, her tongue moving slowly across her mouth. "Please," I whimpered. I didn't think I could take another moment of waiting.

She put her hands on my knees. "You want this?" she whispered.

"Yes," I said.

She slid a little closer, to my thighs. "You want this?" she asked.

"Yes," I gasped.

She leaned forward. Her hair touched my skin and I arched my back a bit, thrusting up toward her. She laughed. I could feel her breath she was so close. Her mouth pressed softly against my thigh, leaving a wet spot in the shape of her lips that felt cool as she pulled back. "You want this?" she asked yet again.

"Oh God yes," I squeaked.

She kissed my shaft softly, her lips only just making contact. Her breath was hot. I breathed in sharply, every nerve in my body exploding to react. My brain was gonna burst. I was gonna have mind guts everywhere, I just knew it. My eyes rolled to the back of my head. I couldn't feel anything except the popping of her words against me as she asked, her voice husky, muffled by my blowing mind, "Do you want this?" she asked again.

"Yes, Ashley, yes, please," I moaned.

And then she completely blew my mind.

For the next hour she blew my mind.

By the time we were done, when I was completely mindfucked and I didn't think I could ever, ever, ever recover from it, I felt like a pool of quivery jelly or something laying there, spattered on the mattress. Ashley lay beside me, pressed against me, one leg swung over my hips, her head on my shoulder, her hair all a mess, spilled over the pillow behind her. She stared up at me.

"How did I do?" she asked quietly.

"On a scale of one to ten?" I asked. She nodded. "Thirteen billion, twelve-hundred-and-ninety-seven."

She laughed.

"Have I told you lately how fucking incredible you are?" I asked.

"Fluffing," she corrected.

"You're fluffing incredible."

"You're pretty fluffing incredible yourself," she whispered.

I closed my eyes. There was a hum, somewhere across the room. I opened my eyes again. It was an hour later. Apparently I'd fallen asleep when I closed my eyes. Ashley had, too. The hum woke us both up, though. She sat up slowly, the bustier was a little crooked on her now from all the craziness and the sleeping. She slid toward the end of the bed.

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"My cell phone's ringing," she said.

I didn't want her to leave.

Ashley picked up her jacket. She fished in the pockets and pulled out her cell phone. "It's Patrick," she said. She answered the phone, "Hello?"

Pause.

"Oh my God."

Ashley dropped the phone.

"What? What is it?" I sat up.

Ashley looked at me. "Chris is here."

"What?"

"He's outside Patrick's apartment building."

"How in the fuck?" I asked, and I got up so fast that I was dizzy.

Ashley looked at me with wide, terrified eyes. "I don't know," she said.

After: I'm Here


Ashley

I climbed onto the bed. My body creaked almost as loudly as the mattress. I lowered myself down, leaning my head onto the pillow. I was pretty sure the kids were probably shouting at each other downstairs in the aftermath of the atomic bomb of information that I'd just released on them. I was glad I couldn't hear it. I closed my eyes and rolled onto my side, pressing my face into the folds of Nick's old shirt, breathing in his scent.

I don't know what I'd felt down in that dining room. But it'd been like he'd been there.

Over the years, whenever I was stressed, Nick had developed a habit of rubbing my neck and shoulders. He'd come up behind me and put his hands on my shoulders and gently press his thumbs into the skin at the base of my neck and squeeze my shoulders softly, releasing my tension and stress. I'd felt that. I'd felt it. I know it sounds crazy, and I felt crazy. But it had been realistic enough that for a split second, before I remembered Nick was gone and realized the kids were not the ones doing it, that I'd almost allowed all my stress to fade away.

I wondered what it meant.

"Nick," I whispered, opening my eyes. "Are you here right now?" I asked into the dark room, my voice quiet.

Of course no reply came. Of course not. How could there be? Nick was dead. Gone. I'd seen that much myself, seen the peace fill his eyes, heard his last breath fall from his mouth, felt his chest stop rising and falling. I'd listened for that sporratic heartbeat of his that I'd used as a lullabye for many a year and heard nothing but a startling silence. I'd felt the cold of his skin. I'd picked out the suit for them to put him in, selected the coffin. I'd watched them lower it into the ground. I'd let grains of dirt and grass pass through my fingers to thump against the lid six feet down. I'd watched them fill the gap and seal the deal with a pat of the shovel on newly packed ground.

He couldn't be there.

And yet I could feel him the way I'd felt him everyday.

You know when you walk into a house and you can feel that there are people there or there are not people there? You can feel the energy, the charge, the presence? Well Nick's presence was very strong. Like he was laying there with me in the bed. Like he was close enough to touch.

I reached out my hand and touched the empty air.

"Are you there?" I whispered. "Give me a sign."




Nick

Her hand was where my heart should be. I stared down at it, wishing I could feel it. Wishing she were really touching me and not just air. I wasn't a part of her world. I felt sick.

"Are you there? Give me a sign." Her eyes were glazed with unshed tears. Her lower lip quivered. "Nick."

"I'm here," I answered, even though I knew she couldn't hear me any more than she could touch me. "I'm here, baby." I reached out my hand, hovered my hand just above her cheek. If I moved further, my hand would pass through her face the way I'd passed through the door.

A tear slipped out of her eye and slid across her cheek. It dripped over the end of her nose. She pushed herself up suddenly, grabbed her cell phone from her nightstand, and I saw her dial my phone number. I pulled out my cell phone from my pocket. I stared down at it. It rang. I answered it.

"Ashley," I said into it.

Maybe this was my portal. Maybe she would hear me if I spoke into the phone.

She made a weird face, pulled the phone away from her ear. "Hello?" she said into it. She held it back up to her ear. "Hello?"

"Ashley, can you hear me?"

"Hello? Is anyone there?" She asked, "Hello?"

"Ashley! I'm here! I'm right here, right in front of you."

She pulled the phone away and hung it up. She stared at it, brow furrowed, perplexed. After a moment, she dialed again. I didn't answer it this time. I sent it to voicemail. As my message played - loud enough I could hear it through her phone, her perplexed expression melted. "Oh God Nick," she said into the phone after the beep had run, "I thought they disconnected your phone. I thought I'd lost you forever."

I stared down at my phone as it vibed a moment later with a voicemail from her. I looked up at her. "I wish I had a way to answer you," I said thickly. "But I'm here, baby. I'm here."

Before: Leaving Boston


Ashley

I felt like I was going to throw up. Nick scrambled for his boxers, yanked them up his legs. "What did Patrick say?" he demanded.

"He said there was a guy outside ringing all the buzzers on the building asking for me," I replied, "He said after the guy rang his buzzer, he looked out over his balcony railing and the guy was short, with dark hair, and he got into a rental car that's parked across the street." Nick grabbed his jeans and started dancing them onto his body. "Nick, how did he find out where we were?" I asked, panic rift in my voice.

"I dunno," he replied. He grabbed his belt and started threading it through the belt loops.

I grabbed my jacket. "Nick, what do we do? Zoey's there. We have to go get Zoey. I'm scared."

Nick was buckling the belt. He thought for a moment. "Ashley, call Patrick back. Ask him if he can meet us at the airport."

"What?"

"Ask Patrick to meet us at the airport with Zoey. Tell him to just put her in the walker and casually as possible just walk her down and bring her to the airport. We can get our stuff later. Just tell him to meet us at the airport."

"But Chris is right there!" I wailed, "What if he tries to steal her away or he - he shoots Patrick or --" I felt tears welling in my eyes. "Nick --"

Nick took two quick steps over. He cupped my face in his hands. "Ashley," he said thickly, "He doesn't know Patrick, and he wasn't even in the delivery room long enough to know if it was a boy or a girl you had. What Chris is gonna see is a random dude leaving an apartment building with a random baby. If Patrick just acts as normal as possible, Chris will have no idea. He's waiting to see one of us walk out of the building, not Patrick."

I could barely breathe. "But my baby... my Zoey..."

"Baby, Zoey is safer right now if neither one of us is anywhere near her," Nick said and I heard the hurt in his voice even as he said the words. He bent down and picked my phone up from the floor. "Here." He said, "You call him. I'm gonna get us a flight out of here. We need to coordinate this so he's getting to the airport just before the plane leaves. Just in case."

My throat ached. "Nick, where are we going to go? If he found us here in Boston, where are we safe?"

"We'll go to my place in Nashville," Nick said.

"But he knows where you live there," I argued, "If he found us in this random place here in Boston, where there's no reason for him to ever look for us, what would keep him from looking in Nashville where he knows you could be?"

"I don't know, but if we get on the plane there's no way he can get there before us. He'd have to wait for the next flight. If we time it right, that'll buy us at least a couple hours to figure out what to do next and how he's finding us," Nick said. "It'll give me time to think."

I nodded. "Okay."

"Trust me, baby," Nick said. He pulled me closer. "I'm gonna keep you safe."

I nodded.

"You and Zoey mean more to me than anything else," he said quietly. He kissed my forehead. "He's not going to hurt either of you. He would have to kill me to get to you."

What Nick didn't understand was that was exactly what I was afraid of.




Nick

Ashley was a nervous wreck.

We stood at the airport, waiting for Patrick to show up with Zoey. We were going to have a thirty minute window between when Patrick pulled up to the front doors of the airport with Zoey and when the three of us boarded a plane. This, I hoped, would be just enough to get through security and up to our gate.

"Where is he?" Ashley groaned, wringing her hands. She was pacing, her face pale under her hair. She was wearing a pair of sweatpants and a tee that we'd gotten at a souviner booth. Both said Boston on them in big bold letters. She looked like a walking ad for the tourism council.

But at least she wasn't running around in lingerie under her jacket anymore.

I wasn't able to think straight with her in that frilly little whatever she'd had on back at the hotel. I really hoped she'd wear it again for me sometime. I would've liked to stay laying in that hotel room staring at the way it hugged her curves, the way her boobs looked in it. Damn Chris for interrupting that. Add it to the list of things he'd stolen from me.

Patrick was running late. I glanced at my watch nervously. I should've left more time for the window, I thought, just in case of things like traffic.

"Nick, what if something happened?" Ashley whimpered.

"Nothing happened, it's probably traffic," I replied. Though I was starting to feel a creeping fear of the same thing. What if something had happened? I wondered. I mean, even if it was a non-Chris related something. But I didn't dare look nervous, even though I was, because the tension poured off of Ashley already, thick and nearly tangible.

Suddenly a cab pulled up and Patrick sprang from it. The driver got out and circled back to the trunk, pulling it open and withdrawing the stroller and two bags. Patrick bent back into the cab and undid Zoey's carseat from the back. Ashley ran forward out of the doors of the airport. "Zozozozo!" she cried, running over, arms out stretched.

Patrick turned and Ashley scooped Zoey up out of the car seat and clutched her to her chest as I arrived to their sides. Patrick looked up, "I think he was a little suspicious, but I don't think he followed me. Just in case, I had the cabbie take the scenic route. That's why we're late." He handed off the bags, including Zoey's diaper bag, to me. I shouldered them quickly. "I packed as much as I could into two of my duffle bags," he said, "I didn't know if he'd recognize your bags."

"Good point, he might've," I said. I looked at Ashley, who was clinging to Zoey like she might disappear. "You ready baby?"

She looked up at Patrick, "I'm sorry," she said. "Thank you for taking care of my baby."

"You're welcome," Patrick replied. He reached over and pulled her into his arms, being careful not to squash Zoey, who was caught up in the middle of the two of them. "Please take care of my baby," he said. He kissed her forehead. "And come back as soon as you can. I haven't had enough of you just yet."

Ashley's eyes were full of tears. "Thank you," she said.

Patrick patted her back, then . He turned to me, held out his hand. I shook. "Bring her back sometime, ya hear?" he said.

"I will," I promised.

Patrick pulled me into him and patted my back. "She's somethin' special," he said. "Treat her good. Keep her safe."

"I will."

Patrick smiled and waved and watched while we rode the escalators up to the security checkpoint, Ashley clinging to Zoey, me carrying our bags. Ashley stopped at the top and took Zoey's little hand and waved it. Patrick waved back. "Thank you!" he yelled, "For coming!"

Ashley stood there, making Zoey wave. "I'm afraid to turn away," she said.

"What?"

"Last time we waved to someone at the airport," she said, "They almost got killed by Chris."

I looked back at Patrick. Then I held out my hand to Ashley. "C'mon, baby."

Before: Fight Firearms With Firearms


Nick

I shouldered the door open at the house in Nashville. Ashley held Zoey. The lightbulb in the entry way was busted, so flipping the switch did nothing. We stepped into the dark house and I tossed the bags down, put down Zoey's carrier and the folded up stroller and turned on the hall light.

Ashley looked exhausted, her eyes red with stress and nerves. I picked up Zoey's carrier with one arm and wrapped my other arm around Ashley. Glancing back to make sure I'd locked the door good and tight, I led Ashley up the stairs. "C'mon, let's get some sleep," I said. She stumbled up alongside me and I took Zoey gently from her arms and laid her in the carrier. I helped Ashley up into bed and climbed in beside her, pulling her into me, both of us fully dressed still. I wrapped my arms around her body, both of us folded into each other. She clutched my arm.

"When did it all get so crazy?" she asked quietly. She was facing me, her eyes stared into the crook of my neck.

"I dunno," I answered. Ashley's breathing fell into a rhythmic pattern and I knew she'd fallen asleep. "I love you," I whispered into her hair. "Don't be afraid. I'm gonna take care of you. I promise." I kissed her forehead. I stared down at her, at her eyelashes. The one thing I knew for certain was that I would do anything it took to keep her safe. Whatever that took.

I lay awake that night in the dark, thinking, wishing I had answers. I rubbed Ashley's back absently as I thought, as though the feeling of her skin under mine would help to spark the inspiration I needed to take care of her and Zoey and keep them both away from Chris.

It was funny, I thought to myself, how afraid of Chris we were. If it was just me and Chris, one-on-one, I could take him easily. That much had been proven the day Zoey was born, when I easy knocked Chris to his ass several times in Ashley's apartment and had even tamed him enough that he drove us all safely to the hospital, held a humane conversation with me in the waiting room. Clearly, I was more than capable of conquering Chris.

If only it wasn't for the fact that he had a gun.

It was like a light bulb went off in my head.

Fight firearms with firearms, it's so obvious, I thought.

And just like that, resolution made, I fell asleep quite easily.

The next morning, when we'd wandered downstairs and discovered there wasn't anything in the cupboards of the kitchen - of course not, we hadn't gone shopping and I hadn't been to Tennessee in almost three years, I bridged the subject of my idea to Ashley.

"We need to go to the grocery store," she said, opening one of the drawers and pulling out a post it notepad and a pen. "What do we need at the store?"

"Pretty much everything," I answered. I paused. "Ashley," I said, "While we're out today, I'm gonna buy a gun."

She'd been in the middle of writing the word bread when I said the words and she stopped mid-letter and slowly looked up. "Excuse me?" she said.

"I'm going to buy a gun today," I said.

Ashley put the pen down. Zoey tossed pink giraffe out of the carrier and I bent down to pick it up from the floor. When I looke back at Ashley, she was still staring at me. "Tell me you're joking," she said.

"I'm not joking," I said.

"Nick why would you buy a gun?" she asked.

Zoey had her hands out, fingers stretched for the girafffe, but I waved it in my hands as I spoke, "Because," I said, "Think about it. Why are we afraid of Chris? Because he's got a gun. He's a fluffin' pansy-bum without the gun. I could take him with one arm tied behind my back, Ashley. But he's armed. So he's a threat." I shrugged, "So... if I have a gun, we'll level the playing field."

"No if you have a gun you'll get cocky and end up getting yourself killed," Ashley argued, "Or shoot yourself by accident somehow. Nick, you can't get a gun, that's just ridiculous."

"I won't get cocky, or killed," I argued, "I'm just talking about having it to protect you and Zoey, to keep you two safe."

"If you buy a gun there will be two guns that are potential dangers to us instead of just one. How is that a good idea?" Ashley argued.

Zoey whimpered from her carrier.

"Because Chris can't control us anymore!" I shouted. My hand came down on the counter and I squished pink giraffe's neck under it. The giraffe gave a pitiful little squeak as the squeaker in it's neck broke. I looked down at it.

Zoey started crying.

"Are you happy now? You made her cry." Ashley reached over and yanked pink giraffe out of my hand, "And you broke him." His head drooped.

"I didn't mean to break him."

"Just like you won't mean to shoot yourself with your fucking gun!" Ashley cried. She handed pink giraffe to Zoey.

"Fluffing!"

"Shut UP!" Ashley shrieked. We stood there staring at each other, Zoey crying, clutching the giraffe, whose head now hung limp to one side. Ashley took a deep breath. "Nick, I don't like all the guns. I don't like all the fighting and violence. I just want life to go back to normal, back to you and me and Zoey and being happy and the biggest problem we got is whether you took the trash out and you make fun of me for watching old sappy movies like Wonderful Life and the world is just perfect and happy. I don't want to fight about stupid things that don't matter, like whether you're going to buy a gun or not. I want our lives to just be full of love."

"I want all that stuff, too, Ashley, but I just want us to be safe," I said.

She sighed.

I bent down and scooped Zoey and pink giraffe up out of the carrier. Her tears poured down her little chubby cheeks. "I want to be able to stop him if he comes in this house. I want to be able to stop worrying about what if scenarios and just breathe normal again. And if we have a gun, I'll be able to breathe a little easier knowing I have a way to defend us."

Ashley looked at me holding Zoey. Her eyes glazed up with tears. "Nick, do you even know how to shoot a gun?"

"I've shot a gun before," I said.

"When?" Ashley asked.

"I've shot lots of guns," I said, "Chris and I used to go paint balling all the time, for one, and for two, I've been to a few shootin' ranges..."

Ashley stared at me.

"What?"

"A real gun ain't nothin' like a paint ball gun," she said.

I shrugged, "It can't be that different."

"Nick."

"Well it can't!"

"It is," she said, "In that it is a gun and it shoots bullets not paint."

"Ashley."

"Nick."

We stared at one another.




Ashley

We were at the Bass Pro Shop at Opry Mills. I couldn't believe I was letting him do this. Zoey was strapped to my chest in the little backpack thing we had and Nick was looking down at a full case of pistols that gleamed in the flourescent lighting. A stuffed bear roared over us an I looked around uneasily. I felt like there were a thousand people in the store, like they were all looking t us, like any one of them could've been texting Chris right at that moment telling him where we were.

"Look at that one, baby," Nick said, pointing through the glass at a pistol in the corner, "Looks like the one Rick Grimes has!"

"Nick."

"I'm just saying if the zombie apocalypse happens, we'll be prepared."

I sighed and turned away. I could not believe I was letting him do this. We'd sat at the freaking DMV, which ironically enough was where you went to be licensed for a gun in Tennessee (Because, you know, why the hell not right? Drive a car, shoot a gun, its the same damn thing right?), and Nick had applied for a permit to carry a weapon. Now we were at the mall (Because yes, you can buy a gun at the mall), and Nick was waving over a redneck employee to help him out.

"Nick, I'm gonna take Zoey for a walk around the mall," I said. I didn't think I could handle watching him play with the stupid pistols.

He looked at me, "Is that really safe?"

"Nick. You're buying a gun. I can take a walk around the mall and back."

"Okay, okay." He glanced at his watch. "Gimme a call if you need me though, okay?"

"Okay." I took Zoey's empty stroller that was beside him and pushed it along ahead of us, her legs kicking around.

"Can I get a closer look at that Glock?" I heard Nick asking as I walked away.

The mall was crowded. People were swarming everywhere, it was like overturning a rock and finding a shitload of ants or something. It took considerable work to navigate Zoey's stroller along as she giggled and cooed from her place in the sack on my chest. I stopped and got a juice at the Rainforest Cafe and sat down on a bench shaped like a giant toadstool. I sighed and put my feet up on the wheels of Zoey's stroller and pulled out my phone, staring down at it.

Find Your Phone. The app was right there on my main screen. The apps on our phones to locate the phones if they ever got lost. All we had to do was open the app and my phone would show up on a map.

That's how Chris was had found us in Boston.

My heart leaped into my throat.

Before: Shootin' Practice


Ashley

Nick was just coming out of the Bass Pro Shop carrying a large bag under his arm, staring down at his phone when I ran up to him. "I know how he found us," I gasped, coming to a stop. Nick looked up from his phone, perplexed. "We installed these apps on our phones to locate the phones." I shoved my cell phone into Nick's hand. "He knows we're in Nashville, Nick."

He stared down at the screen I had pulled up. The map. My phone on Nashville, Chris's phone on Boston. He swallowed. "Well, the good thing is we know he's still in Massachusetts," Nick said slowly. He pointed to the screen. "This is a two way street. He might be able to see us, but he we can see him, too."

I hadn't thought of that.

Nick took a deep breath. "And now we know."

"Why's he still in Boston, though?" I asked, "What if he found out about Patrick somehow?"

"I'm sure Patrick's okay. Maybe he just hasn't noticed the phone relocated yet," Nick suggested.

"Maybe," I stared down at the little blip that was the location of Chris's phone.

Nick looked around, "Hey let's go get the groceries then get back to the house. I wanna put this thing together and get some practice in."

"Practice?" I asked warily as Nick steered Zoey's empty stroller along ahead of us and we started walking back to the car.

"Well yeah, I can't just expect to instantly know how this thing handles," he said, "I gotta shoot a few rounds to get to know it, you know?"

I stared at him. "Where are you gonna do that?"

"The backyard," he said.

"What are you mental?" I demanded.

"No," he said, "I'm not mental. I want to learn how to shoot this thing right so you're safe."

"I don't like it that you got that thing to begin with, now you're gonna just shoot things with it at random in the back yard?"

"I'm not gonna just shoot things," Nick argued, "I got targets. I got things to practice shooting."

"Nick, c'mon, you can't seriously think this is a good idea."

"What'd you think I was gonna do, just drop a grand on a Glock and leave it in the little suitcase thingy it came in? Ashley, I'm gonna learn how to shoot this son of a bit an I'm gonna keep it with me at all times until Chris is behind bars like he belongs."

I stared up at Nick as we reached the car. He folded down Zoey's stroller and shoved it into the trunk, then lifted her out of the sack on my chest and leaned into the car to put her into the car seat. "What if you get hurt," I demanded, "What if you shoot your eye out or something?"

"I'm not Ralphie, for Christ's sake," Nick replied, backing out of the car again. Zoey was safely strapped in. We climbed into the car and Nick put his bag with the Glock on the floor on my side. I stared down at it. "Ashley, baby..." his voice was thick, serious. I looked over at him quarely. "I love you," he said, "And I promise you... with every fiber of my body and soul... I'm gonna be careful with this thing."

I took a deep breath, "You swear?"

"Cross my heart," he replied.

I sighed.




Nick

It was the Glock G21 .45. It was silver. It gleamed up at me from the box where it was perfectly cradled by foam. I lifted it from the foam carefully, afraid of the finger prints my hands made on its perfectly polished body. I did just like the guy told me to load it and prep it. I'd already set up my target across the yard. I put the bullets in and the gun clicked, prepared.

I stood up, angled the gun and asked it, "Are you ready to be shot for the first time?"

It didn't answer, of course.

I felt like James fuckin' Bond.

Carter. Nick Carter.

I stood straight, brought the gun up, my arm extended ahead of me. I squinted, my tongue stuck out a little, and I pulled the trigger. The shot was louder than I expected, the force of the gun firing stronger than I'd guessed. The bullet sailed across the backyard and hit the shed.

"Fuck," I whispered.

The shed was about thirty feet to the left of where I'd set the target up.

I looked around. Nobody saw that, right? Ashley was no where to be seen an the yard was fenced in. Shy of a passing helicopter and the buzzing cicaidas I was safe.

I leveled the gun again. This time, I was expecting the kickback. This time, I knew the power of the gun and the force of the blast. I was expecting it more, so I had more control on the thing. When I pulled the trigger, the bullet sailed into the target on the outermost ring from the bullseye. Not bad, I told myself, considering the first shot fired.

I aimed again, squinting, tongue out, trigger pulled... and bam. This time, the fourth ring out. Downright impressive, I thought. I was a regular Nicky the Kid, I thought to myself. I would've been damn awesome back in them Wild Wild West days. I pictured myself as owner of half of California, my gun-slingers' reputation proceeding me. I blew off the barrell of the gun, like I was meeting my opponent at high noon.

Okay so maybe I was being a little cocky.

The shed certainly thought so.

The back door opened and Ashley stepped out on to the deck, the baby monitor we'd bought at the store (we'd left our old one at Patrick's) on her hip. She sat down in one of the lawn chairs and stared at me. I turned to face her, the gun carefully pointed the other direction. "C'mon, you gotta learn how to shoot this thing too," I told her.

"It's your gun," she said.

"Baby, what if you need to use it for some reason? You need to learn too. C'mon." I waved her over.

"Nick I don't need to learn how to use the gun," she said, "You aim it, you pull the trigger. It's not tht hard."

I shook my head, "You'd think that's it, but you'd be surprised by the force of this sucker. Aiming is easy but keeping it steady through the follow-up is damn near impossible..."

Ashley stared at me.

"Baby, please. I know you're afraid of the gun, I know. I know you think the gun is bad, but it's gonna keep us safe. Please." I held it out to her.

Ashley stood up, walked over, took the gun from my hand and stepped around me. I turned to show her how to do it, but she'd already cocked the barrell, leveled the gun, squinted as she aimed, and before I could say a word, she pulled the trigger and the bullet sailed straight through the bulls eye of the target.

My jaw dropped.

Ashley turned, reached into my pocket where I'd put the safety, clipped it on, handed the gun back, and said, "I told you. I don't need to learn how to shoot the fucking gun."

And then she went inside.

I stared t the door after it closed behind her, then turned to look at the target, pierced directly in the center by her bullet. I glanced at the shed. Then back at the door she'd just gone in.

"Sweet Jesus I'm in love with a fucking sniper," I whispered.

After: I Think I Can Feel You


Ashley

There was a knock on my door.

I glanced at the clock. It was seven in the evening. I'd been laying in the bedroom for the entire day.

"Mum..." It was Oliver. He knocked again gently. "Mum."

"Come in," I said.

Oliver pushed the bedroom door opened. He stood awkwardly in the door frame for a moment before he stepped inside. He glanced at the avalanche of Nick's clothes - things I'd gone through searching for his scent. Oliver looked at me. "Mum, I'm sorry I got upset downstairs," he said slowly.

"It's okay," I replied.

He shook his head, "No it isn't. I don't have the right to be angry with you."

"I had just told you that I shot your father, of course you had a right to be angry," I answered.

Oliver hovered above me. I sat up slowly and patted the bed next to me and he sat down. He stared at his hands. "Mum... why would you shoot dad? I don't understand. I mean, you said you guys were fighting but that it was trivial..."

I took a deep breath. "I didn't want to shoot your father when I did it."

"Then why...?" Oliver's eyes were searching mine, begging for answers.

"Before I married your father," I said, "I was married to another man."

Oliver's eyes registered shock. "What? No way. But you and dad -- you said you met him when you were kids."

"I did. I was married to one of his best friends."

Oliver let out a low breath, digesting this information. His brow was furrowed deeply. "But... what does that have to do with why you shot dad?"

"His name was Chris," I said slowly. "And he beat me."

Oliver's look of shock and confusion turned to one of anger, "What?"

"He beat me all the time," I cried, tears coming faster than I'd expected them to, emotion choking my voice. I covered my eyes with my hands an I felt Oliver instantly reach around me to hug me. "He beat me more than I ever even told your father. Your father was so angry when he found out --" I shook.

"Dad saved you from him, didn't he?" Oliver asked, and I heard the respect and reverence in his voice.

"Yes," I sobbed. "But I couldn't save him from Chris."

"Chris did this?" Oliver asked, "Chris is still around?" I looked up at Oliver's beautiful blue eyes. He did so look like his father.

"No," I whispered, "Chris is dead."




Nick

That night, even though she couldn't feel me and I couldn't sleep, I laid on the bed and watched Ashley sleep. I studied her face, the lines time had designed by her eyes, the way her once vibrant red hair was now mostly white. She'd cried herself to sleep, hugging an old shirt of mine to her face, her shoulders shaking, the picture from our wedding on the pillow where I normally would lay.

It was so quiet, I could hear her heart beating.

It was around three in the morning when her eyelids danced with a dream and she whimpered. She looked distressed. "Ashley," I whispered.

"Nick..." she cried in her sleep. Tears snuck from beneath her eyelids.

"Ashley, honey..." Forgetting she couldn't hear me or feel me, I reached over. "Sweetie."

Her eyes sprang open. I saw fear in them. "Nick?" she said into the dark. She reached out her hand. I stared at her palm... and then I reached out my hand and pressed it against hers. She gasped. Tears in her eyes, she whispered, "I think... I think I can feel you."

Before: Checking On You


Nick

Ashley was in the kitchen when I went inside. She was putting the stuff for the pork chops we'd gotten at the grocery store for dinner together, slamming the cupboards behind herself. I stood awkwardly in the doorway of the kitchen for a moment, holding the plastic suitcase, the Glock tucked safely away. Ashley put the pan on the stove and poured some oil into it, being careful not to make eye contact with me. I put the case down on a chair. It made a heavy thunk of a sound. Ashley glanced over, then looked back at the heating pan.

"Where did you learn to shoot like that?" I asked her.

She pursed her lips.

"Ashley?"

"One of the foster families I lived with growing up," she said. She looked up at me finally, "He was in the military, and we actually lived on a base." Ashley shrugged. "He taught me how to shoot."

"I don't remember you living on a base."

"I was only there a month. You were probably overseas with the band or something. We were like fifteen or sixteen at the time."

I leaned against the counter beside the stove. She swished the hot oil around, then dropped the two pork chops onto the pan. They sizzled the moment they touched the tephlon-coated surface. I wondered how much else I didn't know about Ashley.

A memory flashed through my mind. I don't know what brought it on, but I asked, "Ashley... remember that night... that night at the bar, before the plane crash, when you came in and said you had a bad day and I was a prick because the Buccs were on TV and I didn't ask you what was wrong?"

Ashley looked up at me. "Game fourteen," she said, nodding.

"What was wrong that day?"

Ashley laughed. "I don't remember, Nick."

I sighed. "I'm sorry I didn't ask."

Ashley looked back down at the chops again. "I don't know why I let it bother me that night," she said quietly. "It wasn't the first time you didn't give a shit about me." She shrugged, "And it wasn't the last."

"I'm not gonna ever treat you like that again," I said. Ashley bit her lip. "What?" I asked.

"You kind of treated me like that today," she said.

"What? How?"

She sighed. "You bought a gun. I told you very specifically why I didn't want you buying a gun and you bought one anyways."

"Because I want to protect you."

"I told you, I'm safer without the second gun, Nick. I told you that. You don't care what I have to say on the subject, you just wanna have it your way and that's that." Ashley shrugged, "That's what it was like back then. You didn't give a damn what I had to say, you just..." She sighed. "I know you don't mean to do it but you do it. You're so strong headed and it drives me insane sometimes..." Ashley's eyes met mine. "You drive me insane sometimes."

"I'm sorry," I said.

She flipped the pork chops over in the pan, the sizzling doubled for a moment, then quieted again. She sprinkled some pepper and salt over the meat.

"I'm gonna work on being better about doing that," I said, "Okay?"

Ashley nodded.

"Tell me when I'm like that, okay? So I can fix it?"

"Okay."

"Ashley?"

"Yes?"

I reached for her hand. "Even when I am being an asshole, please... please know that even then I still love you more than anything."

"I know," she said.

"And even when I'm driving you insane," I asked, "Do you still love me? Even then?"

Ashley laughed, "Well..."

"Hey!"

"I'm kidding. Of course I do."

"Good," I said. Instead of arguing back, Ashley leaned into me, wrapping her arms around my waist and laying her head against my chest. She pressed her nose against me, breathed in deeply.

I rubbed her back 'til she pulled away to turn off the heat on the pork chops and cover them. She opened the cupboard and got out potatos and stuffing. "We forgot apple sauce," she said after a moment of staring into the cupboard.

"Dude, we can't have pork chops without applesauce," I said, "It's like a requirement."

"Well, looks like we are..."

Ashley moved away from the cupboard door and stuck the potatoes in the microwave. I looked in the fridge to see if we'd put the applesauce there. When I turned up applesauceless, I turned to her, "I'm gonna run up to the store real fast and get the applesauce."

"Okay."

"I'll be right back." I stuck a kiss on her cheek, then turned to leave the room. My eyes flickered to the plastic suitcase that carried the Glock. I hesitated, I wondered if she'd get pissed off again if I brought it with me. A small part of me wanted to just feel the power of packing heat. I wanted to be like James fuckin' Bond again. But I knew if I stopped to grab that gun Ashley was gonna go off again, so I left it there on the chair, and headed out the door.




Ashley

When Nick got back, we had dinner, and Zoey woke up and we sat in the living room together. Nick sat on the couch staring down at his computer, and I sat on the floor playing with Zozo. His cell phone rang and he absently picked it up. "Hey Jason," he said, getting up. He wandered out of the room.

I turned to Zoey, who was waving her arms in his direction as he left whimpering, "Daddy's comin' back, he'll be right back, yes he will..."

She whimpered more.

"Daddy loves his Zozo, shhh, he just went to answer the phone."

There was a knock at the door and I turned and stared at it. Who the hell would be knocking on the door at eight-o-clock at night? I didn't move. I wanted to call for Nick, but I didn't dare make the noise. I saw a shadow lean around the door frame, a silhouette on the curtain by the narrow window. I picked Zoey up, pulled her to my chest, and crouched low. My heart pounded.

Nobody knew we were here in Nashville. There was no reason for anybody to be there.

Whoever it was knocked a second time. Harder this time, the knock louder, echoing through the entry way. A lump rose in my throat.

Suddenly Nick came out of the kitchen on the far side of the entry. The Glock in his hands. My heart raced as he neared the door, carefully, quietly. He peered through the peek hole. "Shit." He clicked the safety, and shoved the gun into the back of his pants waistband and unlocked the doors. "Good evening Officer," Nick's voice rang from the hallway, "What can I do for you?"

I struggled to get up while holding Zoey and made my way out to the doorway.

A cop stood on the stoop.

"Good evening, Mr. Carter," he said. "I just was checking on you. You've been away awhile and a couple of your neighbors just wanted to make sure it was you over here, as your house hasn't been occupied in some time..."

"Yeah we're good," Nick answered.

"Got some reports of gunfire this afternoon in the area," he said.

"Just hitting some targets in the backyard," Nick replied.

"You got a permit?"

"Yes sir." Nick pulled out his wallet and fished for the permit. The cop looked over at me and Zoey. He smiled at Zoey, waved the tips of his fingers at her. She gurgled and struggled, reaching for Nick. He produced the permit and handed it to the cop. "You patrol this area frequently?" Nick asked as the cop glanced at the permit, then handed it back.

"Everyday; it's my beat."

Nick waved at the driveway, "That's the only car that's gonna be parked in this driveway for the next couple weeks," he said, nodding toward the vehicle. "If you see any other, look in on us. Please."

The cop gave Nick a funny look.

"We're in the middle of a situation," Nick said by way of explanation.

The cop nodded, "I'll see to it."

"Thank you."

The cop nodded to Zoey and I, then said, "You have a good night, Mr. Carter."

"You too, sir," Nick answered, closing the door. He turned to me, "At least we know they're vigilant," he said.

I nodded. He started toward me, and Zoey held out her arms and he lifted her up. She grabbed onto his nose with her little fingers and he carried her into the living room. As he passed by, I grabbed the gun out of his pants. "Zoey and guns don't happen at the same time," I said. I put the thing down on a high shelf on top of some books he had.

Nick sat down on the couch with Zoey on his chest and I joined them. Nick crossed his legs and put his feet up on the coffee table next to his computer, yawning.

"So what did Jason want?" I asked.

"He just confirmed that we do have a restraining order in place on Chris," Nick replied. "He said, too, that he swung by the court and got paperwork about the annullment. He said he knew the judge pretty well and managed to get your hearing expedited. He's gonna be going to that as your legal representitive. He said it should go easy and you should be done with Chris by the end of the week." Nick smiled.

"Thank God," I muttered.

Nick kissed Zoey's forehead and she reached up and grabbed his lip, tugging on it with her chubby fingers. Nick laughed and so did she. He shook his head, making his lips and cheeks flap and made a weird noise and Zoey's laughter doubled.

"We're almost on to the rest of our lives, Zoey," he said, "Almost there."

"Do you think Chris will go back to LA for the hearing?" I asked.

Nick shrugged. "Maybe we could see where he is with the app."

"But then he'll know where we are."

"He might already," Nick pointed out. He nodded at the computer. "I was looking up how to turn off that service, and it looks like if we go into the app we can disable the location services." He said, "So we can kill two birds with one stone."

I nodded.

"Where is your phone?" he asked.

"Off. In my purse. I'll go get it." I got up and got the phone. When I came back, I handed it to Nick and lifted Zoey off him. He sat up and pulled up the app. I leaned over to watch as it loaded. The map came up and the blue circle indicating us landed on Nashville. It blinked, locating Chris, then a green circle dropped and landed on Chicago. "Chicago?" I said, surprised, "What the fluff would he be in Chicago for?"

Nick clicked on the green circle. The map went into more detail. "Looks like he's at O'Hare," he said. "He probbly is on a layover. Maybe he's going back to LA."

"Or here?"

"Nawh, most flights Boston to Nashville would either be direct or layover in Baltimore. Not Chicago. Midway is more cross-country."

"Oh."

Nick went to settings and scrolled down to the disable location services button and clicked it. The phone asked for a passcode. He stared at it for a long moment. "What do you think he would've used as a passcode?" he asked.

"Try his birthday."

Nick clicked in Chris's birthday. Incorrect passcode. Retry. He hummed, thinking.

"How about the day we got married?"

Nick clicked in the date.

Disable Family Locator Services? Confirm. Deny.

Nick clicked confirm.

Family Locator Services have been disabled on this handset.

Nick exited the app, then handed the phone back to me. "There we go," he said.

I turned the phone off anyways. Just in case.

Before: She Said Yes


Nick

The next week went fast.

Knowing Chris was in Los Angeles, knowing we'd caught the app trick quick enough to head him off before he figured out we were in Nashville, it gave Ashley and I a peace of mind. Well that and the Glock, which slept on my night stand, shining in the moonlight that came in the window. We bought Zoey a new crib, which sat in our room so we were all safely together. I slept on the side of the bed closest to the door. If anyone was getting to either of those two girls, they were going to have to go through me first.

The day Jason called and said he was on his way to the hearing, Ashley and I took Zoey to Radnor State Park, a big beautiful wooded area with a two-mile long walking trail that encircled a big lake. There were ducks in the water, and we stood at a corner with Zoey in her stroller, pointing out the ducks to her. She stared as the ducks honked, a mother with a handful of ducklings and the father swimming ahead, protecting the family. I wondered if that duck had a Glock somewhere on his night stand. Ashley pointed to them, "Look Zozo," she said, crouched down beside the stroller, "Look at the duckies. Duckies say quack, quack," she said. Zoey cooed.

I watched as Ashley laughed and talked to Zoey. The sunlight moved through the trees, casting a greenish spotlight over the two of them. Zoey tossed pink giraffe out and Ashley leaned down to pick him up. When she did, something glinted by her chest. I tilted my head. "What's that?" I asked. I knelt, too, reached out, and cupped the charm on the end of her necklace, turning my hand so it lay across my palm.

It was the vial of beach sand, the word Miami Beach scrawled across the glass bottle in teal and hot pink. A teeny-weeny little seashell inside, mixed with the sand.

"You gave it to me," she said, "In the airport. Before the crash."

"I remember," I said. "I didn't think you still had it."

She laughed, "Of course I do. It's one of my favorite necklaces."

"Why?" I asked.

"Because you gave it to me," she replied with a shrug. I let the vial slip out of my hand. It fell back to her chest and she tucked it back under her shirt, close to her heart. She handed Zoey pink giraffe and stood up, walking around to the handle of Zoey's stroller. "Are you ready?" she asked.

I looked up at her. I was kneeling on the ground. She was standing in front of me. Zoey was clapping at the ducks. Those ducks who were grouped together, a momma and some babies, with their daddy keepin'em safe. I reached into my pocket. I looked up at Ashley, and I opened the box. I stared down at the ring, glinting in the sunlight, then I turned it. I held it up to her.

She stared down at it. At me. Her eyes were wide.

"If I have you," I said, "I'm ready for anything."

Ashley stared at me, breathless, as I pulled the ring up out of the box and held it up to her.

"Ashley... can we spend the rest of our lives together? Can you love me, even when I make you crazy, and I do stupid things? Can you stay with me? Forever? 'Cos that's really all I want in the whole world." I took a deep breath, "I dunno how to do this good, how to propose real pretty-like, like they do in movies and books and stuff. I just know that if I lost every other thing, every penny, every thing I own, even my own breath out of my lungs and my heart out of my chest, if I had you there for that last gasp of air I breathe... if I have you beside me every moment for the rest of eternity... I'll be happy. I just wanna keep you safe and make you happy. Everyday. Can I do that for you?"

Tears filled Ashley's eyes.

"Nick, yes."

I took her hand and slipped the ring onto her finger.

I stood up and she wrapped her arms around my shoulders, the tears escaping out of her eyes. She looked at the ring on her hand, and brought her hands up to clasp them around my jaw and cheeks. She pulled my face toward her and we kissed, deeply and urgently, our faces smooshing into eachother. Pink giraffe squeaked as he hit the cement outside of Zoey's stroller again. Ashley drew back slowly, staring into my eyes. A smile spread across her lips, the remainder of the tears glittered on her eyelashes. I reached up and softly stroked them away with my thumbs. "I love you, Ashley," I said.

"I love you, Nick," she replied.

I kissed her again, this time soft and quick. She bent down to pick up pink giraffe. I took my cell out of my pocket and took a picture of her hand as it wrapped around the giraffe's body to lift him up, the diamond glittering from her finger.

I posted the picture on Instagram. The caption read "She said yes."




Ashley

We were back in the car on the way home, Zoey asleep in the carseat in the back, and I was admiring my ring, when Nick's cell phone rang. He laid it on the nonslip pad on the dashboard, hit answer, hit speakerphone. "Go for Nick," he said.

"Nick, it's Jason."

"Hey buddy," Nick replied. He glanced over at me, smiled, and looked back at the road. He was pulling out onto I-65 headed south, headed home. "What's the word? How'd the hearing go?"

Jason replied, "Well I have good news and bad news."

"Okay, well hit me with it."

I stared at the way the ring threw reflections at the ceiling of the car, how they danced as the sunlight glittered through the trees that lined the highway. Shimmering.

"The annullment's complete," Jason said, "There's no more legal contract binding Ashley to Chris. It's like the marriage never happened. I, sir, have managed to turn back time."

I felt like the weight of the world had been lifted off my shoulders. "Oh God," I said, grinning. I looked at Nick, "Thank you Jason," I gasped out.

"Wooo!" Nick crowed. He honked the car horn with excitement.

"Well now hold on before you go celebrating red neck style there, Carter," Jason said. His voice darkened, "I haven't told you the bad news yet."

"What's the bad news?" I asked.

Jason sighed. "He wants custody of the baby."

"That's bullshit," Nick snapped. I stared at the phone. I couldn't even form words - not to reply to Jason, not to correct Nick's cuss, nothing. "There's no way in fluff he can get custody of Zoey!" he burst, "He doesn't even know her name! He's never been around her, he's being accused of abuse. No judge in hell is gonna grant him custody."

Jason took a deep breath, "Except that he's still trying to spin the tables Nick. Don't forget the suggestion is still out there that you are the abuser, that you two are lying about who inflicted those injuries on Ashley to keep you out of trouble. Don't forget that of the three of you, you're the only one who hasn't shown up at the hospital injured yet. He's got a somewhat substantial case. And considering the lawyer he sent in today --"

"Sent in?" I interrupted. "Wasn't Chris there?"

"No, he had a legal representitive, the same as you did."

"But he's in LA," I argued, "Why wouldn't he be there?"

"The legal rep said Chris chose not to attend because of the restraining order that you've got against him. He claimed they were unsure if you and Nick would be present and Chris wanted to respect your wishes to stay away."

Nick was gripping the wheel tight. "So what do we do?"

"I'm going to work on continuing to build your case, Nick, and we'll take the custody battle one step at a time. With a guy like Chris, it's only just so long before he takes a misstep and we have all the evidence we need to shut it down."

I looked back at Zoey, my heart in my throat. What if he did somehow get custody of her? What would we do? I couldn't even fathom the thought.

"Thanks for letting us know, Jason," Nick said. "Keep us updated."

"I will," Jason said, and he hung up.

I looked over at Nick. I could feel my heart beat in my ears my pressure had ridden so high. I felt terrified. "Nick," I said, "What would we do?"

"I don't know," Nick replied. "But I'll tell you what, he aint gonna get her, no matter what, so don't worry. If we have to run - if we have to move outta the country and change our names and hide for the rest of our damn lives in fucking Australia or something... I don't care, baby. I don't care. Chris is never gonna take her away from us. I promise."

Before: A Side of Guac


Nick

It'd been silent in the car for a good ten minutes. Ashley had turned, staring at the back seat, at Zoey, a nervous expression on her face. I took a deep breath. "What're we having for dinner?" I asked, just to break the silence.

"I don't know, I bought stuff for tacos."

"Do we have guac?"

"We have the mix, but we need avacados," she replied.

"I'll stop and run in for them, then," I said. The car sped down I-65. I shuffled my hands on the wheel. Finally, I said, "Ashley, what are we gonna tell Zoey?"

"About what?"

"About Chris?"

Ashley looked at me. "Why do we have to tell her anything about him?"

"Well I mean he is her father."

Ashley shook her head, "No he isn't. You are. Only biology says otherwise and what does biology matter?"

"I guess. But I mean... Well, like, what if your mom had stayed with Patrick, what if she never told you about Henry. What if you never knew him. What if you never got the chance to?"

"Then I'd be better off, wouldn't I?" Ashley said coldly.

I shook my head, "I just... Well I mean, once upon a time, these people were... they were good people. I mean, I'm mostly talking about Chris, I obviously didn't know anything much about Henry. Other than his parting words to me were 'do right by her'. Ashley, he tried in the only way he had left to make it up to you. He told you about Patrick, didn't he? He didn't have to. He could've taken that to the grave with him. And Chris, well, he ain't now but at one point he was a good friend. At one point, he truly loved you. And who knows, maybe he still does. Maybe he just as a really jacked up way of showing it. Maybe somewhere, under layers and layers and layers of distortion, is that old Chris. The good Chris. Maybe we owe it to Zoey to see if it's there."

"Why so he can beat the shit out of her too?" Ashley snapped.

The car came to a stop at the red light at the end of the exit ramp. I glanced over at Ashley. "I'm not saying to let him have custody of her, I'm saying that maybe she should at least have the chance to know. Not right away. Someday. When she's older and can understand and tread carefully and all that."

"I don't think it's neccessary. You're her Daddy and that's all she needs to know. Period."

"What if she finds out somehow?" I asked. "What if he finds her and he tells her and she thinks I'm some horrible monster for lying to her for however long it takes before she finds out?"

"She won't think that."

"What if she does?"

"Telling her about Christopher won't change that." The light turned green and I drove on toward downtown Franklin. "He is evil and she is better off never knowing that he even existed."

I sighed. "I guess."

"Don't sigh like that," she said, "Please. Just -- I don't want her knowing him. He's done nothing but hurt me and hurt her since she was conceived, Nick. He doesn't deserve her love."

"I didn't say he did," I argued. "I said she deserves the chance to decide that." I parked the car and unbuckled my seatbelt. "I'm gonna go in and get avacados for the guac," I said.

"Okay." Ashley nodded. "I'll stay here with Zoey."

I looked over at her. "Hey, it doesn't matter really to me what we tell her about him. If you don't want her to know, then we won't tell her. Okay, baby?"

Ashley looked over at me. "We have a really long time to decide this," she conceeded.

"We do." I nodded. "Years, at least."

"At least," Ashley agreed.

"Do we need anything else in here?"

"It seems like there was something but I don't remember what."

"Well. Call me if you remember it in the next couple minutes. I'll be right out."

"Okay. I'll be right here."

I ducked out of the car and headed into the grocery store.




Ashley

I watched Nick walk across the parking lot and disappear into the automatic entry doors. I glanced back at Zoey, who slept peacefully in her car seat. Her little nose twitched and I reached back and tucked her blanket around her.

Milk.

"Crap." I looked at the doors Nick had gone through and grabbed my purse off the floor of the car. The handle of it caught the glove box, which fell open. Nick had shoved the Glock into the glove box. I groaned and slammed the glove box closed. It wouldn't shut. The gun was too much. I don't know how he got it shut in the first place. I took the gun out, made sure the safety clip was on, and shoved it into the abyss that was my purse. I fished around for my cell phone and pulled it out. I was about to turn it on when I thought of the app and I stopped.

"That was almost very stupid of me," I muttered. I turned and looked at Zoey. "Well Zozo, looks like we gotta go inside to let Daddy know about the milk." I climbed out of the car and opened the back door, leaning in to get Zoey. She picked up pink giraffe and she threw him, gurgling happily. The giraffe bounced out of the door and onto the cement. I bent down to pick him up.

Someone stepped up behind me.

"Oh, honey," I said, "I realized we need milk. I was just getting Zoey and then I was gonna come in and --"

Before I could finish my sentence though, there was a metallic click - a gun loading, and then there was something cold and hard pressed against my back.

"Don't worry," Chris said, "We can go tell him together."

After: Take Me With You


Ashley

I felt terrified and excited all at once. I knew he was there. Right there, right beside me, pressing his hand to mine. "I know I can feel you," I ammended. I felt tears squeeze out of my eyes and stream across my face. "What does it mean? ...Am I dying, too?" My voice was below even a whisper. Only the hard constenants seemed to make a sound, popping against my tongue in the dark.

I'd heard stories about people who died that said they saw their loved ones just before it happened. Then there were near death experiences like Nick and I had where you experience some sort of heaven, meet someone there you know. Someone to welcome you. Was this my welcome? Was Nick here to bring me back with him?

Would it be so bad if he was?

I didn't dare to move my hand, afraid that the feeling would go.

"Nick..." I whispered into the dark, "Am I dying?"

But of course no answer came.

"I'm not afraid," I said, "If I am. Because you're here."

The feeling stopped, the tingling in my palm that had been him. I closed my eyes and lowered my hand. I rolled onto my back, stared up at the ceiling.

"Don't go without me," I whispered. "Take me with you."

I waited.

But nothing happened. And the feeling of him didn't come back.




Nick

I stood by the window, staring, afraid. Was she dying? Was I killing her somehow with my presence? Was I making it worse, harder for her, by being here? I didn't dare go nearer, even when she cried into the dark, begging me to come back.

"I'm sorry," I said from across the room.

There was a selfish part of me, the part that actually wanted her to somehow join me, even if that did mean she had to die. It's not that bad, this dying stuff, I decided. It didn't hurt or anything.

And if she joined me we'd just be together, forever.

And really that's all I'd ever wanted: was to just be together.

Before: 447 Miles an Hour


Ashley

"Don't worry," Chris said, "We can go tell him together." He reached forward and wrapped his fingers around my hair, pulling me up. The gun pressed harder into my back. "Get the baby," he said.

I put pink giraffe into Zoey's carrier and unbuckled her. My heart raced. She gurgled and reached up at me. I lifted her gently. "Now," Chris said. "Hand her to me."

"Please. Don't hurt her. Please," I whimpered. He took Zoey out of my arms and she squeaked in disapproval, her face crumbling as he wrapped his arm around her, tucking her to his chest. She reached back for me. I felt my lower lip trembling.

Chris nodded to my purse. "Get it out."

"Get what out."

"The gun."

My mouth went dry. "What gun?"

Chris laughed. "Ashley, do you really wanna play stupid with me while I'm holding this baby and a gun?"

My hands shook as I opened my purse and pulled out the Glock. It felt twice as heavy as it ever had before.

"Here's how it's going to work," he said. "You... me... and Zoey... we're gonna take a walk inside. We're gonna find Nick, and you're going to shoot him. Then you and me are going to drive away and live happily ever after with our daughter."

"I won't shoot Nick."

"Okay. Your choice." Chris raised the gun from my back and the sun glinted off it as he raised it, pressed it against Zoey's chest. She cooed and grabbed onto it, laughing.

"No!" I yelled.

Chris smiled. "But that's the rules, Ashley. We need to play by the rules."

I felt sick. "Please," I begged.

Chris leaned Zoey between himself and the car, bracing her with his hip. I instinctively reached to steady her. He took the Glock, unclipped the safety, loaded the chamber, and handed it back to me, smacking my hands away from Zoey. "There we go. Now all's you gotta do is pull the trigger and aim real good. It's like those games at the arcade," he said, "You shoot the target, and you win a prize." He hoisted Zoey up on his hip again. "You ready?"

My mouth was dry. I nodded slowly.

"Okay." He put his hand down on Zoey's chest with the gun aimed, his finger on the trigger, covering the gun with her blanket. "Let's go let Nick know you forgot about the milk then, shall we?"

Every step felt like a million miles. Every beat of my heart echoed loud and thick in my ears like a gong. The pavement seemed to stretch on...and on... and on... Chris's footfalls were right behind me. About halfway into the grocery store, Zoey started to cry.

Nick would've started singing Brown Eyed Girl to her, I thought.

"Shut the fuck up," Chris grumbled at her, "Shut the fuck up."

Fluff, I thought, Dont say fuck, say fluff.

The automatic doors slid open. Nick's Glock felt so heavy in my hand, like a ten pound weight. It was really only a couple ounces, I think. I don't know.

The automatic doors parted with their pfffff of sound, and the noise of the grocery store flooded out. The people, an automated voice announcing that tuna fish was on sale. The speakers cracking out Jessie's Girl. A tired looking employee with a blue apron pushed a cart of apples by. The overwhelming smell of the small floral department assaulted my nostrils.

And there he was.

He was standing in front of the bananas, picking out a bunch. He was analyzing them, looking for brown spots. He hated the brown spots.

I wanted so bad for him to have been on the way out as we were going in, for him to go to the car and realize what happened somehow, for a miracle to occurr. But no, no he had to be standing here, had to be picking out bunch of fluffing bananas.

And taking his damn time doing it.

I wanted for the guy in the apron to turn around, to see the Glock. I wanted for someone to stop what was about to happen.

"Remember," Chris said, "Don't do anything funny. It won't work. Even if I had terrible aim, there'd be no missing the baby right now."

"Her name's Zoey," I choked. I held the gun, my hands shaking.

"Call him," Chis demanded. "I want him to know what's happening. I want him to see you with me. I want him to know before he dies."

I felt like I was going to pass out. This couldn't possibly be real. Could it? This couldn't possibly be how it all ended. I thought of Nick a year ago in the rain, running down the street to the car, about to drive to Vegas, I thought of how the lights reflected off the puddles, of his laugh, that loud guffaw that came from deep down in his chest somewhere. I thought of the way he'd fallen to his knees in the foyer of the church. Pick me, he'd begged. And again just a coupl hours ago, on his knees again, in front of the duckpond... "Ashley, can we spend the rest of our lives together?"

I'd said yes.

"Call him," Chris snarled.

"Nick," I called, my voice barely above a choking whisper. He'd moved to the tomatoes. I lifted the gun.

"Again, he didn't hear you."

"Nick," I choked.

"You must not think I'm serious about pulling the trigger on this baby," Chris said.

"NICK!" I screamed.

He looked up. His eyes landed on me. On Chris. On Zoey. Back to me. He saw the gun. His eyes widened, his jaw dropped, the bananas fell from his hand. A dozen eyes turned to face us. Someone somewhere yelled gun!

"Do it!" Chris shouted.

"I'm sorry," I choked, and I pulled the trigger.




Nick

According to the manual, the bullet traveled at 200 meters per second. That's about 447 miles per hour. I literally don't even know how to do the math to figure out how long it took it to travel the ten yards that separated us. But however long it took, it took forever. I saw people dropping in slow motion all around me, like the ground had given out from them. I saw Chris holding Zoey, holding my little girl. I saw Ashley, her face full of anguish and fear.

I knew I was going to die.

They say that when you die you see everything flash before your eyes.

The first time I died... in the plane crash... I saw the flashing lights. I saw Ashley's face. And I heard Leslie's voice.

The first time I died, I woke up at Niagra Falls.

This time I saw the bullet coming towards me. Spiraling in the air. I saw Ashley's face. And I heard a dull ringing in my ears.

And then the bullet broke my skin and I felt my body burst around it, saw the blood, felt my heart catching, felt myself shutting down, like an off switch had been struck, felt myself being thrown backwards with the velocity of the bullet, felt my back hit the stand, felt my legs give out from under me as the blood spread across my shirt. Felt the floor beneath me. The lights of the produce section hung over me, the rumbling of the gun's shot echoed off the plaster. The floor was cold, hard, beneath me.

I lay there. Blood pouring from my chest.

I heard a scream... but it was far away. Like it was underwater.

Then Ashley was above me.

Leaning over me. I think she was talking, her mouth was moving...

I closed my eyes...

And when I opened them I could see nothing. Nothing except white...Everything was white. Blinding white.

Before: Blood


Ashley

I shot him. I shot my best friend. I shot the man that I love. I shot the only person who has ever truly loved me. I looked at him, and I pulled the trigger, and I shot him.

I grabbed at the blood pouring from his chest. I scrambled, my hands turning red, trying to shove it back into him. It was irrational, it was stupid, but I was mindless. I was shaking like a leaf, I was crying so hard my eyes were probably going to dry up. I was choking, coughing, sobbing, screaming his name. For a moment, he looked like he might've been seeing me. But then he wasn't. He wasn't because his eyes rolled back and they closed and his heart stopped beating. I felt it when it stopped. I heard the little gasp as his lungs emptied.

Chris grabbed me. He pulled me up. I dropped the Glock.

"Nick!" I sobbed, "Nick please. I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, please." Chris guided me quickly. Back through the doors. Everything was a blur. The air on my face. The sunlight. Zoey screaming. I stumbled. I hit the pavement on my knees. Chris yanked me back to my feet as I threw up, it splashed the tar at my feet, spattered on my legs. There was a wailing siren, a thousand voices screaming and yelling. Chris shoved me into the car. I heard him slamming doors. I numbly turned as he buckled Zoey into her carseat. She was wailing. I lifted my hands to soothe her, and saw the blood.

Nick's blood. I was covered in it.

"Oh my fucking God," I sobbed, "I killed him."

Chris was suddenly in the driver's seat beside me. He was turning the key. Where he got the key I don't know. Maybe Nick left it there when he got out. Probably. Nick always left the key in the car incase I needed the heater or the air or the radio. He thought of little things like that.

"Oh my God." I put my hands on my face, on my cheeks. The smell of Nick's blood filled my senses. "Oh my God."

The engine of the car roared to life. The sirens got louder.

I looked up in the mirror. I couldn't look myself in the eye. The diamond glinted from under all the blood.

"Can we spend the rest of our lives together?"




Nick

The screaming. It was everywhere. It was inside me, outside me, all around me. It was loud. It shook me. It took me too long, staring into the blinding white to realize that the screaming was me.

"PUT HIM OUT!"

I struggled. My wrists were clamped down. Fuck, everything was a dream? Was it all a dream? I was waking up from a coma or something. None of it was real. I was still in the fucking airplane. I struggled against the bindings. "GET ME OUT! HELP ME!" I screamed. "GET ME OUT!"

"Step back."

"But the bleeder --"

"Step back!"

I struggled harder. "HELP ME! ASHLEY!!! Jesus Christ. ASHLEY!!!!! ASHLEY I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU! PLEASE!" I looked around, "Where is she? Where's the Indian woman? I need to save her too! SAVE HER TOO!"

"Mr. Carter, please..."

The blinding light faded into a blue. A shape hovered over me. The pain searing in my chest and lungs intensified. "Oh Jesus, Jesus! PLEASE! It can't be over!" I fought like hell. "ASHLEY!"

"He needs blood."

"Hang another liter."

Something hard and cold was pressed over my mouth. The window, I thought. I panicked. My face. No. No I wouldn't let it happen again. I struggled, waving my arms, trying to push the window away. Trying to escape.

"PLEASE!" I begged. "ASHLEY! ZOEY! Please!!!"

"Here's the needle sir."

There was a poke in my wrist, where I couldn't move it. And cold traveled through my veins.

Cold and calm.

The shapes and the blue faded to black.

And I fell back. The struggle taken out of me.

Before: Because You Love Me?


Ashley

The car shot onto the highway, northbound, back in toward Nashville. Traffic was terrible, but Chris wove through the cars until he reached the far break down lane and the car sped by the slow moving traffic. He spun the dial on the radio. Zoey shrieked in terror in the backseat. I could feel nothing except Nick's blood drying on my hands and the kind of complete numbness that you can only feel when the person who loved you most in the entire world is gone. The kind that might as well be a straight jacket. The kind that paralyzes you.

"Now you don't have a choice to make anymore," Chris said, "Now you don't have to wonder what would've happened if you picked him at the wedding. If you'd gone to Vegas." His voice was thick, pleading. "Now you're free to just love me, you're free, Ashley. You're free to be mine. You do love me, don't you? You do."

I couldn't bring myself to speak. Couldn't even fathom a word for what I felt for Chris.

Love was certainly not it.

"You can take that piece of shit ring off now," he said, "Throw it out the goddamn window." He reached for my hand.

"No."

"You need to put back on my ring," he said.

"I don't have them!"

He struggled to grab my hand. The car swerved unsteadily. The left size scraped the barrier that lined the highway. "Fuck." Chris steadied the car, abandoning his quest to grab hold of me.

Zoey's screams intensified, if that was possible.

I turned to look at her, her face was bright red, crumbled into a look of utter distress.

And as I stared out the back window, I saw them -- the blue lights.

The police.

The sirens welped.

"Fuck." Chris spat and pressed the gas pedal. The car burst forward with even stronger velocity. I felt like I was being pressed back into my seat, and I sat forward, my heart slamming in my chest louder than I'd ever heard it. The traffic became a blur of color and noise and the road passed so quickly the dotted lines seemed solid and the blue lights loomed behind us, the sirens whooping loudly.

Maybe, I thought, we would die, too, and I would be with Nick.

The barrier ended and Chris turned the wheel so fast the tires squealed and the car dove forward, jostling onto the grass that separated the north and southbound freeways. It shook, threatening to turn over, but Chris somehow managed to keep it from tipping. The nose of the car dove and shook and fought and dust flew up behind us. I felt like I was in the fucking Dukes of Hazard.

I pictured Nick howling like Luke Duke.

Chris accelerated again, pulled the vehicle onto the southbound highway. Traffic was moving quicker on that side. He wove between vehicles as the cops were left behind, their sirens wailing as they took the median more carefully. I looked back at Zoey. She was still crying. "Baby, sweet baby," I whipsered, "It's okay Zozo. Mommy's here. Mommy's here."

"Doesn't that baby ever shut the hell up?" Chris snapped.

"When Nick sings," I replied.

He gripped the wheel, angry.

"She's terrified, what the hell do you expect?" I screamed at him. Anger burst through me. "Do you seriously think she's going to stop crying when you're driving like a fucking maniac? Do you seriously think she's going to love you? Do you seriously think I'm going to? Just because Nick's dead doesn't mean I don't still love him more. It doesn't mean I'm going to take off the ring. It doesn't mean you win or that you get to have me."

"YOU BELONG TO ME, YOU ARE MY WIFE!"

"I AM NOT YOUR FUCKING WIFE ANYMORE CHRIS, IT GOT ANNULLED!" I bellowed, "YOU ARE NOTHING TO ME!"

"YOU WILL LOVE ME!"

"I WILL NEVER LOVE YOU!" I screamed, "I WILL LOVE NICK UNTIL THE DAY I DIE! I WILL LOVE NICK FOR ALL OF ETERNITY! And there is NOTHING you or anyone else in the universe will EVER DO that will EVER, EVER, EVER change that! So FUCK YOU. You don't win. You'll NEVER win. You will NEVER have me or my love. I BELONG TO NICK!"

As I'd yelled the traffic had thickened. As I yelled the cars had stopped moving, and Chris had swerved into the breakdown lane again. As I yelled, he'd pulled around them to find a line of police cars blocking the road ahead.

"Fuck."

He slammed on the brakes. The car shrieked. It shuddered. The back end spun out. The car twisted and turned and Zoey's carseat tipped. Pink giraffe fell from the seat, flew to the floor. I screamed, trying to straighten the seat, trying to grab onto something - anything - to steady myself. Chris slammed into the steering wheel. The airbags burst open. The car came to a sudden stop.

Zoey screamed into the thick silence.

"PUT YOUR HANDS WHERE WE CAN SEE THEM!" came a loud, angry sounding voice. "PUT YOUR HANDS UP AND EXIT THE VEHICLE."

Chris looked over at me.

"I love you Ashley," he said. His mouth was bleeding. "I've made so many mistakes."

"You don't love me," I shook. "If you loved me... you would've let me go."

Chris's voice broke. "Don't let them kill me."

"PUT YOUR HANDS UP AND EXIT THE VEHICLE!"

"I wouldn't want them to," I said, my voice shaking.

"Because you love me?" he asked, breathless.

"Because I want you to suffer for what you've done, you fucking asshole," I replied. I unlatched the door, put my hands up, and climbed out, shaking.




Nick

At first, I felt robbed that I didn't get to see my life flash before my eyes. But really, I thought, I did. The last thing I saw was Ashley.

She was my life these days.

And really who needed all the other shit I'd done and said and been through?

All that mattered was the girl.

Everything else in the world that I'd ever been, the only thing that mattered was that I'd been hers.

For however short of a time it'd been.

It'd been worth every moment.

After: The Fall


Ashley

Several days had passed since the night that I'd felt Nick's presence. They were long days, filled with a feeling that I was straining to feel him, trying to find him in an empty room. I had the strangest sensation that he was there, hiding, keeping himself secret from me. And I wanted him to make himself known. So I'd reach out into thin air, grasping for something that wasn't there. And I'd talk to him, when nobody else was in the room, I'd say things to him, trying to make him come closer so I could feel him again. But he never did.

It was a Monday when Oliver was all packed up, ready to head home. We all stood out on the lawn as he squashed his suitcase and carry-on into the back of Zoey's car. She was going to bring him to the airport so he could fly home to his family, to Derek and Webber, his partner and adopted three-year-old son. Oliver walked back from the car, back over to me, and he wrapped his arms around me, tightly pulling me into him. He rubbed my back as he hugged me, and I held him close.

"Can you forgive me?" I asked, "For shooting your father?"

"Of course," he said.

I closed my eyes. "I love you baby boy," I said.

Oliver nodded. "I'll come home again real soon, mum."

"Real soon," I pleaded.

He nodded, then drew back, hugged Leslie, "Take good care of mum," he said, and then Presley, "Stay out of trouble, kid," he told her. Then he walked across the lawn to Zoey's car and waved goodbye. He swung into the passenger seat.

"I'll be back soon," Zoey called, and she, too, ducked into the car.

I watched my babies drive away.

"C'mon mum, let's go inside," Leslie said. Steve Perry ran to the end of the driveway after the car, barking. "C'mon Steve Perry!" Leslie yelled, whistling. The dog bounded back toward us.

I tripped on the step.

It was something anyone could've done. My shoe caught the step and I went down to my knees. I hit the wood stoop hard, and ache went through my entire body. Presley tried to catch me, but I slipped through her grasp. I hit my head on the step.

Leslie clutched my hand, "Get her other side," she snapped to Presley and the two of them hoisted me back up. "Are you okay, mumma?" Leslie asked, concern all over her face. "Are you okay?"

I nodded, even though I could feel the welt on my head already growing where the step had hit. "I'm... I'm okay..." I struggled to get the words out. I felt dizzy.

"Are you sure?" Leslie's voice was strong, professional, experienced in this sort of thing. She gripped me like I was a breakable.

"Let's get inside," Presley said.

And they helped me up the steps quickly.




Nick

Ashley spent the next day in bed. She was too tired to get up. The fall had taken a lot out of her. Leslie stopped in the room, dressed in purple scrubs with little dog cartoons all over them to check on her before leaving for work. Presley checked in periodically, asked if she needed anything when she went to the store. Zoey sat with her for hours at a time, watching old movies on TV and laying across the bed where I used to lay, holding Ashley's hand.

I hovered. I waited. Because I knew when she was alone, she would talk to me. I lived for those moments. Those were heavenly.

When Zoey went to get lunch, though, Ashley fell asleep instead. Zoey returned, carrying a plate with two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and a couple glasses of milk. She put one of each on the nightstand beside Ashley and set herself down in the desk chair close by. She put her own lunch down on the desk and rolled the chair closer to the bed. She gently pushed a strand of stray white hair back from Ashley's face.

Presley came in the room, apparently back from the store. "How is she?" she asked from the doorway.

Zoey didn't look up, "I think she's tired," she said.

Presley nodded, "It's good she's getting sleep, then."

Zoey turned and looked back at Presley. "I mean she's tired," she said thickly. Zoey rolled away from the bed, closer to Presley. Her eyes were threatening tears. "Pres... I'm worried for mummy."

Presley looked down at her toes.

"She's been talking to him," Zoey whispered, "When she thinks none of us can hear her. She talks to him like he's in the room."

"I know," Presley said. "She reaches out, too."

Zoey's voice was low, "Presley, I think she's dying."

Presley's eyes filled with tears.

Before: I Never Saw Him Again


Ashley

As Chris and I climbed out of the car, a part of me hoped that there would be a hurricane, a hailstorm of bullets. I pictured it sounding like a firework display, popping and exploding into sparks of red. At least I'd be with Nick. At least Chris couldn't hurt us anymore. My hands raised, Zoey's cries ringing in my ears, I stood there beside the car, facing the line of policemen blocking off the highway with their vehicles, shaking and prepared to die.

"My baby," I choked, "My baby's in the car."

One of the policemen gestured for me to step forward. I stumbled in his direction. He had kind eyes, and facial hair that made me feel like I could trust him. I needed him to get Zoey.

As I walked forward, I thought of this game Nick and I played when we were kids. He would fill his squirt gun up and follow me around the yard wearing a shiny sheriff's badge he'd gotten at a western themepark his grandfather took him to on one of their family trips to New York. A jet of water to the heart and I'd throw myself, writhing and gurgling out last words of vengence against the sheriff, clutching my water-soaked heart.

Back then, it was always Nick that shot me. Not the other way around.

Back then, the bullets were reloaded at the hose nozzle.

Back then, when we got really creative, we poured our Electo-Cooler Hi-C into the squirt guns and shot them into each other's mouth while we sat around the old drain pipe and talked about who was a jockstrap at school and planned out new ways to ride our bikes around the neighborhood or discussed which Power Ranger would win against which Ninja Turtle.

Back then, we really believed that real life was exactly like we pretended it was.

I wanted to tell Nick that in real life facing down a police officer with his gun held aloft was nothing at all the same, that nothing we'd pretended at ages eight through twelve was the way it had turned out at all.

For one thing, when the game was over, everyone who got shot had always gotten back up in time for dinner.

I reached the line of cops. "My baby is in the car," I gasped to the gentle-eyed man. He nodded and I heard him direct a younger guy to go get Zoey. He pulled my arms behind my back, and clicked handcuffs around my wrists. He receited the maranda to me.

He turned me, put me into the car closest by. I looked out the window.

I saw them slam Chris to the car. Saw them press down on his neck so his cheek pressed harshly against the hood. His eyes met mine and he stared at me, and I saw the moment when the expression in them melted from one of defiant fury to one of sorrow and remorse. I saw the moment when they broke him, when the weight of everything that had just happened really landed on his shoulders. When he realized what he'd done.

The door opened and the young officer leaned in with the car seat and secured it. I turned to Zoey as she cried, my hands shaking in their cuffs. "Shh little girl, shhh," I whispered. But I felt like maybe she somehow knew that Nick was gone. I felt like crying like that, so that my face turned red and my voice broke and crackled like static electricity. I wished I could feel how that felt. But there was so many emotions happening at once that not a single one of them had fully struck me yet. Not the grief, not the horror, not the fear, not the mourning. I felt nothing.

I turned back to the window as they pulled Chris up roughly, spun him and pushed him into the car. He stared out the window, too, our eyes still meeting through the glass, across the space. He stared at me with tears running from his eyes across his face, dripping from his jaw bone. I saw his mouth move, read his lips. "I'm sorry."

And I believed him.

Because the sorry was in his eyes.

Then the car pulled away.

And I never saw him again.




Nick

When I opened my eyes, it was to a pure white ceiling. I blinked up at it, my conciousness swimming. My tongue felt so dry that it hurt to open my mouth, like my tongue was being peeled from the top cavern of my mouth. It reminded me of the time I licked the bike rack at school on a dare and got stuck to it like the kid in Christmas Story did with the flagpole. I goot a great gasp of air and my chest felt like it might burst with the feeling.

I reached for my face, pulled a cannula out of my nose, felt my fingers slip across my scar. My body ached and I struggled in an attempt to sit up. Suddenly there was a hand on my collar bone, pushing me back down. "Don't sit up!" AJ was suddenly hovering over me, his eyes serious, panicked. "Don't sit up. It's okay, man. Relax." He paused as I relaxed back into the pillows. "Shit man," AJ said, "It's good to see you awake."

"What... what happened?" I stammered.

AJ's voice trembled, "Shit man. You were shot."

"What?"

"By Ashley," AJ finished.

A rush of images flooded my mind: The Glock. Ashley. Her terrified expression. Zoey's cries. Chris. His maniacal grin. The gunshot. The searing pain. The floor. The blood. Ashley's face hovering over me.... "Oh Jesus," I choked.

"It's all the fuck over the news," AJ was saying, "TMZ's practically pissing themselves they're so excited. They've been out front waiting for news all night for Christ's sake."

"Where's Ashley? Where's Zoey?" I asked.

I was afraid he'd say who? to the Zoey part. I was afraid I'd dreamt her. That I'd been in a coma or something. That it was all a dream. That I was waking up after the plane crash or something. That none of it had happened.

"Ashley's.... she's being detained."

"What? She's in jail?"

AJ looked uncomfortable. "Yeah."

I struggled to sit up again. AJ quickly shoved me back down. "Let me up, I gotta go get her outta there. She doesn't belong there!"

"You ain't going anywhere, man," AJ said, keeping me held down. "Dude, that bullet shifts even a little, you're a dead man."

I looked down at my chest. A bandage was wrapped around me, like a great rubber band, holding a big pad across a spot over my heart.

"She hit you in one of your arteries, Nick," AJ said. "They can't pull it out. It has to stay in. Your heart has to literally heal around the bullet." His voice was thick.

My mouth went dry.

"I need Ashley."

AJ nodded. "Okay man. I'll go find out what we need to do to make that happen. Just... don't try to move, okay?"

I nodded. "Just get me Ashley," I whispered.

Before: Like You Were Worried About Me or Something


Ashley

"Tell us exactly what happened," the officer with the kind eyes said, sinking into the seat across from me. We were sitting in a room just like you see in the movies. My hands rested on the table in front of me. A female cop paced by the door, not looking over at me.

I'd been in a holding cell overnight. I didn't know where they'd taken Zoey or Chris. I'd spent the last twelve hours with my back pressed against the wall, crying prayers for forgiveness for what I'd done to Nick. The weight of everything had begun it's descent on my shoulders, and I felt numb. I blinked up at the officer.

"Chris is my ex-husband," I said. The story seemed to big for words, seemed like I couldn't get it into my mouth to say outloud. "We got the marriage annulled the other day. Well our lawyers did."

The officer leaned back in his seat, staring at me.

"He abused me," I said.

The female officer glanced over.

"Back in California, he beat me, and I ran to my best friend. Nick. Nick kept me safe. But Chris killed his dog. Then Chris threatened Nick and I had the baby and Nick was there and Chris got arrested but he got released and he beat up Brian and Nick went to California because we were in Boston at Patrick's and Chris was in Boston and then we came here and the phone app told Chris where we were and he made me shoot Nick." It all came out in one long gasp of breath. My voice pinched as I spoke the story.

The female officer leaned against the wall, arms crossed.

The kind-eyed officer said, "We accessed the store's security tapes and we looked at footage from the produce department, where you shot Nick Carter, and at footage from the parking lot." He paused. "You had the gun in your purse."

"It was Nick's. He was licensed."

"Why was it in your purse?"

"He had it in the glove box in the car and I opened it and found it and the glove box wouldn't close, so I put it in my purse."

"You're not licensed."

"No sir."

"You clearly have been trained in shooting," the female cop intoned, "A casual analysis of the way you held the gun and the stance you took in the grocery store when aiming proves that much."

"One of the foster parents I had growing up was an officer in the military," I said.

"Why did you shoot Nick Carter?" she asked, descending on me like an eagle on prey.

"I didn't want to, Chris, my ex-husband, made me."

"How did he make you?" she asked. "He didn't pull the trigger."

"He had a gun aimed at my baby," I said, choking. "Under the blanket he covered her with, there was a gun. He was going to shoot her if I didn't shoot Nick."

"Why did he want Nick shot?"

"Because I love him," I said simply. "Because Nick made me happy in ways Chris could never do." Tears filled my eyes.

There was a knock at the door, and the female cop turned and opened it. "What?" she asked, "We're in the middle of questioning."

"Her lawyer's here."

The kind-eyed officer stood up. "Send him in," he said.

A moment later, Jason stepped through the door, carrying a briefcase. He put the briefcase down on the table. "I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner," he said, "I was in California. I had to catch a flight out." He popped open the briefcase and pulled out a thick folder. "I've been working with Miss. Jackson and Mr. Carter for quite some time. Especially Mr. Carter..." he paused. "We've been through a lot together." He turned to me and smiled sadly, then turned back to them.

Obviously Jason didn't know yet that it was me that had pulled the trigger. How could he possibly defend me if he knew that I was the one that had killed Nick? I wondered. Surely if he knew he would encourage them to throw me into a jail cell and dispose of the key. They'd tell him now and he'd change his mind, leave me there alone. I stared down at the table top, my stomach churning, waiting for the police officers to tell him, for him to storm out.

"I've just come from the hospital where Mr. Carter is being treated, and I have his written request that all charges against Ashley Jackson be dropped." Jason said, pulling papers out of the folder he held.

I looked up. "Nick is alive?"

Jason looked at me, "I just left his hospital room not even an hour ago," he said, nodding, "He's in critical condition, but he's stable."

The she-cop looked less than pleased that he was sharing that information with me.

Tears poured out of my eyes. I've never felt more thankful for anything in my entire life. I started sobbing. Relief poured through me like a tidal wave. "Please, I need to see him." I looked at the officers, then back up at Jason. "Please."




Nick

I did a lot of sleeping... a lot of dreaming. I fluttered between reality and dreams so seamlessly that I don't really remember what of the things that happened that week were dreams and what was reality. I don't remember a lot of it, I was on some pretty extreme medication for pain.

Which is why I thought I was hallucinating the first time I opened my eyes and Ashley was there. The sun came in through the window and lit her hair up like it was on fire. She was staring up at the TV, sitting in the chair beside the bed as I blinked at her. I reached out my hand to touch her and my fingers just got her hair. She turned, the light making the hues of red shimmer. "Nick," she said. Her voice sounded dreamy, sounded far away. I know it was in my head, the way she sounded. I smiled at her. She turned and grabbed hold of my hands in hers. "I'm here, honey," she said thickly. "I'm right here."

"I love you," I murmured. But I think it came out like oliver again.

I closed my eyes.

It felt like a blink to me. But when I opened them again, it must've been hours later because the light in the window was fading and Ashley had leaned down and rested her head on the mattress beside my arm, her breath moved against my shoulder. She was clutching my hand, our fingers laced together. She looked so peaceful...

I looked around the room and saw AJ's sweatshirt laying across another chair, though AJ was no where to be seen. Rochelle's purse was in the chair, too. But again, Rochelle was no where to be seen, either.

I looked back at Ashley.

Her eyelids fluttered, I know because I felt her lashes move against my skin. She shifted in her seat, stretching her back without moving her upper body, then slowly moved her head to look up at me, her eyes wide and wet like she might start crying. "Hey," she said thickly.

"Hey," I said back. My voice was coarse from lack of use.

"I'm so sorry," she choked. "He made me do it."

I nodded.

"Nick I was so scared. I thought --" she stopped. Her entire body shivered. "When you fell, I -- I thought you were --" She literally couldn't say the word dead.

I stared at her for a long moment.

"Jesus," I said, "You'd think you were worried about me or something."

Ashley burst into tears, her body shaking as the sobs came out of her. I waved my arms. "C'mere," I said, "I can't come to you, you gotta come to me." She moved so her torso was pressed against me carefully, and I wrapped my arms around her. "It ain't that easy to get rid of me," I said, "You're gonna hafta do a lot worse than shoot me, baby."

"I'll try harder next time," she joked, her voice constricted.

I smiled into her hair. "You better."

"Hey look who's awake," AJ's voice suddenly filled the room. I looked up from Ashley's hair, though she didn't move a muscle, just stayed leaning into my hug. AJ was carrying a banana popsicle.

Rochelle came up behind him with a blue popsicle. Her lips were discolored. She smiled. "About time you woke up again," she said.

"I'm laying here half dead and you guys go get popsicles?" I asked.

"They have bitchin' popsicles, man," AJ replied. "And the nurses hooked us up with inside info on where the free ones are." He sucked his popsicle into his mouth. "Besides, all you were doing was laying there it's not like we could sit and stare at you while you took your sweet ass time waking the hell up."

"My very articulate husband is trying to say that he needed a distraction because he was worried beside himself with grief," Rochelle said.

AJ moved Rochelle's purse and dropped into the chair beside my bed. "Or something similar to that which sounds less homosexual," he said, shrugging.

I rubbed Ashley's back gently and she pulled back, sitting up. Her eyes were blood shot. I had a big wet spot on the band that went around my chest, holding the pad in place. She didn't let go of my hand. She looked up at Rochelle, "Did you call to check on the girls?" she asked.

"They're both doing just fine," Rochelle replied.

"What?" I asked.

"Zoey and Ava are at your house," Rochelle replied. "Kevin and Kristin are watching them."

"Thanks to Jason," Ashley intoned. I looked at her in confusion. "I don't know how he did it, but he somehow managed to fix everything in, like, a week. I swear to God he's a mircle worker."

So I'd been in and out for over a week.

No wonder everyone looked relieved and worried and worn down.

"I guess I'm gonna hafta send him something better than a soap on a rope for Christmas this year," I muttered.

AJ looked up from his popsicle. "What the fuck is wrong with soap on a fucking rope?" he asked. "Personally I'd be stoked to get that."

"I'll send it to you instead then," I said.

Ashley suddenly kissed my hand. I looked over at her. Her eyes glistened. "You really are going to be okay," she said.

I laughed. "You're stuck with me babe."

Before: Happy Birthday Daddy


Nick

For Christmas, I gave Jason and his wife a vacation.

I gave AJ a soap on a rope.

On Christmas eve, Ashley and I sat in the living room on the couch in Los Angeles as It's a Wonderful Life played on TV and Zoey snoozed in her play pen. She was getting so big. Pink giraffe sat on a shelf. She'd stopped playing with him, much more interested now in toys that made noise, lit up, and generally annoyed the living daylights out of anyone around.

It was four months later and I was still recovering from the shooting. Chris was in jail and had been sentenced to 45 years. Relief cannot even begin to explain how we felt.

After the movie had finished, I hit the off button and we were left in the glow of the Christmas tree lights. Ashley leaned back into me and I kissed her shoulder. "I was thinking," I said quietly.

"Yeah?" she rubbed my arms.

"We should get married on January 31st."

Ashley looked over her shoulder at me. "That's like a month away."

"I know but... there's so much ish associated to that date now that it'd be nice to turn it around. You know?"

She rolled and kissed me. "I think it's a beautiful idea," she said. "You know our wedding planner's going to have a fit, though."

"AJ will get over it."

Ashley laughed. "May to January is a big leap backwards."

"He can do it. He says he can work wedding miracles. Besides, it'll curb him just in case he's got some ridiculous Walking Dead themed wedding plans in the works or something," I said with a laugh. Though I was really only half joking. I would not put that past AJ's twisted mind.

Ashley laughed, too, "Oh God," she said.

And AJ was indeed frazzled when we told him the change in plans. "You wanna move the wedding to WHEN?!" he shouted into my ear via telephone when I called him two days later.

"Relax," Rochelle's voice intoned from the second line. "It's okay Monkee."

"But that's like THREE months sooner than originally scheduled!" he wailed.

"Actually it's four," Rochelle said.

"FOUR MONTHS!" AJ wailed.

"I know you can do it," I told him, "I have the utmost of confidence in you."

And he did.

The night of my birthday, we all went out to a big dinner. Everyone was there, since everyone was in town for the wedding anyway. My mother, stepfather, Angel and her boyfriend, Aaron, BJ, Jason and his wife, Patrick, Kevin and Kristin, Howie and Leigh, AJ and Rochelle, Brian and his new girlfriend. Ashley smiled at me from behind her cup of soda as Kevin passed around champagne and Brian's girlfriend told a funny story about this one time she was photographing a cheetah. Everything felt perfect. Happy. Glowing.

AJ and Rochelle took Zoey home with them that night and Ashley and I went to a hotel room. I took a shower, and when I came out, Ashley had a small cake sitting on the table, lit with a single candle. In front of it was a box shaped like something a necklace or a bracelet would come in, wrapped in dark blue paper with a big green bow. She sat at the table, smiling, holding digital camera I'd given her for Christmas.

"Happy birthday to you," she sang quietly, in her best impression of Marilyn Monroe singing to JFK. "Happy birthday to you... Happy birthday Mr. Carter... Happy birthday to you."

I laughed and walked over and blew out the candle. She turned on a lamp as I took a finger full of frosting off the base of the cake and sucked it off my finger. Ashley's eyes sparkled. "I have two presents for you," she said.

"Oh yeah?"

She nodded. "One is in that box," she said, pointing to the wrapped gift on the table. "And the other is in that bed." She pointed at the bed.

"I like that one," I said.

Ashley laughed. "You might be whistling a different tune after you open the box."

I eyed her. "Nothing that fits in a box is better than you," I said.

Ashley nodded at the box. "Open it."

My fingers pulled apart the paper, the ribbon falling to my feet. Inside was indeed a box like you get at a jewelry store. I looked up at her, "What did you do?" I asked, laughing, expecting a watch or something.

"Well, I didn't do it alone," she said.

"Rochelle helped? Now I'm really scared."

I opened the box.

"No, Rochelle didn't help me with this one," Ashley laughed.

Inside the box, laying on a layer of cotton, was a pregnancy test.

And it had a big blue plus sign in the little window.

I looked up at her.

Ashley had a grin on her face.

"Happy birthday, Daddy."




Ashley

After I'd given Nick my second gift - a remix of Number 27 - we laid on the bed in each other's arms. Nick's hands rested on my stomach. I moved to look up at him and I asked, "So was this one better than the one in the box?"

"No," he whispered, "But if there'd been anything else in that box it would've been."

I laughed and rolled over. I stared at the scar on his chest. I kissed it softly, then looked up at his face. He was beautiful with all his battle wounds, all his little chips and dings. They were things that made him my Nick, things that had changed him. I rubbed his leg with my toes softly. "We're gonna be married," I said, "I'm gonna be your wife and you're gonna be my husband and we can have sex every single night if we want to." I slipped my fingers through his.

"That sounds good," he said.

I laughed. "And we're gonna have a baby."

"I hope it's a boy," he whispered.

"You'll love it whatever it is."

"You're right, I will. I already do."

"I'm so excited. I wish it was the 31st already."

"No you don't. Cos then it'd be all over," he said.

I shook my head, "No. It'd be just starting."

"Hmm," he hummed, pulled me closer, wrapped his arms around me. My ear pressed to his chest and I listened to the irregular heartbeat, made even more irregular by the bullet that was lodged in there somewhere under layers of Nick. "That's true," he said. "It's really only just the beginning of our story."

After: Go to Him


Ashley

"Do you remember before we moved to Nashville permanently how we used to sit on the patio and watch the sunset?" I asked, staring in the direction I thought he was standing in. I couldn't see him, but I could feel him in the room. Couldn't hear his response, though I paused for it because it was the polite thing to do. I laughed, "I bet Heaven is exactly like those nights with the salty air and the gulls." I sighed, remembering. Pausing, letting him talk, if he was talking. Then I said, "Do you remember how we used to sneak back inside so the kids wouldn't wake up and have sex? Of course you remember that, you always remember the sex stories." I laughed again.

I picked up my cup of tea from the coffee table, sipping it. The liquid jostled in the glass, spilled a little over the edge onto my hand. It smelled like peaches and honey. I put it back down and wiped my hand on the skirt of my nightgown.

Presley stuck her head in the room, "Mummy, are you hungry?"

"No," I replied.

She disappeared.

"Nick, do you remember the time we took the kids to Disney? And Oliver tried to pull the head off Mickey Mouse?"

Leslie suddenly stepped into the room. "Who are you talking to mum?" she asked. She was carrying a tray. Presley followed her. Leslie put the tray down on the table, lifted a plate with a tuna sandwich and some crackers and held it out to me.

"I'm not hungry."

"You haven't eaten in two days," she reprimanded me. "You need to eat." She put the plate on my lap.

Steve Perry wandered out and laid on the carpet.

Presley took one of the other two plates and curled onto Nick's old chair. A part of me wanted to protest. That was where I'd imagined him sitting. But he must've moved or something. I could still feel him in the room. Everyday, he got stronger.

Once, I swear, I could smell him.

"Who were you talking to, mum?" Leslie asked as she lifted the last plate and sat back on the couch beside me.

I shook my head and gingerly lifted a cracker. I put it in my mouth. It had no flavor. I took it back out and returned it to the plate. Leslie didn't notice I'd removed it. Presley did, though. I saw her eyes flicker between Leslie and I, like she was trying to decide if she should tell on me or not.

"Were you talking to Dad again?" Leslie asked.

I looked up. I didn't know they knew I'd been talking to him. I thought he was my secret. I wondered if they could feel him, too. Was that why they were asking? Was his presence strong enough now that I was not the only one who knew he was there?

Leslie stared at my sandwich.

I lifted it up and took a bite.

"Oliver's coming tomorrow," Leslie reminded me. "Won't it be nice to see Oliver again?"

It seemed like he'd just left. But really it'd been almost a month since the day Oliver left, since the day I fell on the stoop. The time had flown by with Nick's presence.

"Yes," I answered, "Seeing Oliver would be nice."

"Zoey took a couple days off, too, so we can all go somewhere together. Maybe we can go to Radnor State Park. You've always loved that old Duck Pond."

"That's where your father proposed to me," I said thickly.

Presley smiled, "I love hearing that story," she said.

"Your father tells it better than I do," I replied.

Presley looked at her sandwich.

"Mum... you need to eat." Leslie pointed at my plate.

So I ate. But I didn't really want to. I wanted them to go back to normal life where they went and worked and did their own thing all day. I wanted to be with Nick.




Nick

That night, I watched as Zoey made dinner with Leslie while Presley tried to keep Ashley interested in a game of checkers in the living room. But Ashley kept getting distracted by me. Every time I moved she would look around the room until she figured out where I was in the room. Like radar. She was getting better and better at it, more keen to sensing me.

At the dinner table, Ashley kept glancing at my chair, though I didn't sit down or anything. It was like she expected me to be there, and it confused her that I wasn't. Zoey noticed and she gave Leslie a Look.

When it was time for bed, Zoey helped Ashley up the stairs to the bedroom and I watched from the corner as she helped Ashley into bed, pulled the covers up and tucked her in. She sat beside her and pushed the hair out of Ashley's face softly, staring down into her eyes. She smiled, "I love you mummy," she whispered.

"I love you too my baby girl," Ashley murmured.

Zoey bent low and kissed her mother's forehead and took a deep breath as she sat back up. "Do you want to go with me to get Oliver tomorrow at the airport?" she asked, taking Ashley's hand into her own.

Ashley shook her head. "No," she said. She turned her head, glancing over at me, "I'd rather stay here," she answered.

Zoey stared down at her until Ashley had turned back to lock eyes with her once more. "Have I ever told you that you're the most amazing mother in the world?"

Ashley smiled up at her. "I'm not that amazing."

"You are the most amazing," Zoey and I both said at exactly the same moment.

Ashley's eyes flickered toward me, then back at Zoey. "I'm glad you think so baby girl," she whispered.

Zoey closed her eyes, preparing herself for the next words she was about to say. "Mum, I know you've been talking to him... I know you feel him... maybe you even see him..."

"I wish I could see him," Ashley replied.

Zoey swallowed. "I just want you to know, mum, if you --" she paused. She bit her lips. Tears came to her eyes. "If you want to - to go to him..." her voice broke, "Then I understand."

Ashley looked up at Zoey. Tears filled her eyes, too.

"If I knew how to go to him... I would."

Before: Roses Are Red, Violets Are Blue


Ashley

Rochelle was painting my lips coral with a teeny tiny brush. My hair was in a great big knot with strands that hung in loose curls around my face. Kristin stood behind me, fastening the dress. "You look like a cloud," breathed Brian's girlfriend, Katie, who was a professional photographer, as her camera clicked, documenting the day.

"She really does," Rochelle smiled. She slipped a brush loaded with soft pink hues across my cheeks. Her warm brown eyes met mine. "You look way more gorgeous than you did last time," she whispered.

"I have a better make-up artist," I answered.

Rochelle's purple maid of honor dress swished as she put away her brushes and the palettes. Kristin had finished with the gown. Katie took pictures over my shoulder looking at myself in the three-way mirror as Rochelle fetched my veil. She stood on a stool beside me and lifted the tiara based veil up, slipped it onto my head, and secured it in my nest of red hair. Kristin squealed and Katie's camera flickered loudly.

Rochelle smiled at me in the mirror. "So he wrote vows for you," she said. "Are you scared they're gonna be all silly and boy-like?" She climbed off the stool.

"It's Nick, of course they'll be boy-like," Leigh chimed in from where she was sitting, holding my bouquet and a glass of carbonated apple juice.

I smiled, "I don't care even if they're boy-like," I said, "I know he's gonna say it from his heart whatever it is."

"What if you get up there and he's like roses are red, violets are blue, we're getting married, so I'll say I do?" Rochelle joked.

All of us laughed. "I could so see Nick pulling that," Kristin laughed.

None of them had seen romantic Nick, I thought. No...he wasn't gonna let me down, I knew he wouldn't. Not at this. I wondered if he was ready, if the boys were teasing him.

AJ fluttered into the room as if on cue. He had on a suit as purple as Rochelle's dress. She squealed and ran over to him. "LOOK AT HER," Rochelle cried, "Just look at her."

AJ let out a low whistle, lowered the frames of his glasses to stare at me, "You clean up good," he commented.

"Isn't she gorgeous?" Rochelle asked.

AJ nodded. "Like a dream." He walked over and stood in front of me. "I just want you to know, he's driving us all fucking insane over there."

I laughed, "He is?"

"He's like one of those little chihuahua dogs. He won't stop yapping." AJ looked around. His eyes landed on the plate of chocolate covered strawberries Leigh had brought along. "Why the hell do you guys get strawberries? We ain't got shit! Well the other guys got brandy, but you know. Me, I got a Red Bull." He grabbed a handful of the berries and wrapped them into a napkin. "I gotta get back over there. I just wanted to know if there's no groom at the alter it's because we killed him to make him shut the fuck up."

"Thanks AJ," I laughed.

Rochelle shooed him out of the room.

An hour later, we'd put flowers in my hair and Rochelle had wrestled Ava into her pretty purple dress and Zoey had been put into her dress and Patrick pushed open the door. A rose, dyed purple, on his lapel. He came over and spun his finger. "Turn around," he commanded. I turned so he was behind me and he reached around and slipped a necklace around my neck. I reached up and felt the charm. It was an old high school ring. "This was your mother's," he said. "Well it was mine, but I gave it to her and she wore it around her neck on this chain."

I put my hand around it.

"It belongs to you. And," he tilted it so I could see the gemstone - it was the color of the ocean on a clear day - "Rochelle told me you still needed your something blue."

I turned to face him. "Thank you," I whispered.

"You're entirely welcome," he said. He cleared his throat. "Nick is a good man, Ashley, and he loves you, and I know you love him. I am so proud of you, of everything you've overcome. I'm so happy and thankful that you found me in time that I could be here to witness this, your happily ever after."

I kissed his cheek.

"Don't make her cry!" Rochelle admonished, "I spent like three hours doing that make up!"

We all laughed.

Patrick held out the crook of his arm to me. And I slid my hand through it, and we made our way out of the room to the foyer. My throat felt tight with excitement. AJ stood by the doors that led into the church. "If you'd waited 'til May it would've been on a beach lined with shells," he said.

"This is perfect," I answered.

"You're ready then," he said.

I nodded.

AJ came over and hugged me, kissed my cheek, then said, "Thank you for making him this happy. He's my best friend --" Rochelle cleared her throat, "--besides Rochelle, I mean."

I smiled, "He makes me happy, too."

"That's the best damn part!" AJ said. "Okay. I'll go let them know." His eyes twinkled with excitement. "Oh shit man this is the best part. Here we go." He pulled the doors open, Patrick and I standing to the side, out of view, and galloped inside. The organ began to play and I gripped Patrick's hand. Leigh handed me the bouquet. "You're gonna need this," she said, winking.

Rochelle knelt down. "Go throw the flowers, Ava," she said, handing Ava a basket with petals in it.

"Flowers."

"Yes, sweetie, go throw them."

Ava toddled through the doors of the church, grabbing handfuls of flower petals and tossing them. I heard everyone inside awww as she made her way along.

"Time to go," Rochelle waved at Kristin, and Leigh, and the three of them started forward. She looked at me, grinned. "Oh God this is so Days of Our Lives good!" She scrambled after the other three, pausing at the doors after seeing everything and mouthed, "Nick looks fucking hot as hell!" then disappeared.

Patrick smiled down at me. "You ready?" he whispered.

The music changed to Here Comes the Bride. My heart beating hard in my chest. I nodded. "I've been waiting for this day since I was eight years old."

"Then let's go."

He led me gently forward, and I clutched him, my mind rushing forward. It felt surreal, it felt like a dream. I stepped around the corner of the doors and the people in the pews stood up and turned to look and AJ was literally bouncing foot to foot, Ava on his hip. All eyes were on me and Patrick as we stepped through the doors.

But the only eyes I saw were Nick's.

The grin that covered his face... it was the most beautiful smile I'd ever seen. It danced in his eyes, his cheeks dimpled. He took a deep breath and I saw him whisper wow under his breath.

And I knew there was nothing in the entire world that would ever top this memory of him.

Ever.

Click.

I turned and saw Katie had captured it with her camera.

Thank God.




Nick

Ava toddled down the aisle, chucking handfuls of petals on the floor. She toddled over to AJ and poured the last of her petals out of her basket onto the carpet at his feet. "Flowers," she said.

AJ picked her up.

Kristin and Leigh came down the aisle next. Rochelle hovered in the doorway a moment, turned to one side, then hurried to catch up, her bright red lips locked in a grin. She looked over at AJ and Ava and waved, wiggling the tips of her fingers at them. Then looked at me and winked as she turned stood to the side, turning to look at the doors.

The music changed, the people stood up.

And there she was.

Ashley floated down the aisle beside Patrick, whose eyes were wet with tears. I could hardly contain myself. AJ was bouncing foot to foot beside me. My insides were doing the same thing. I couldn't tear my eyes from her. She looked so fluffing beautiful.

They reached the front of the church, and Patrick took Ashley's hand and lifted it, sliding it into mine. He stepped back and sat down in the front row. I held Ashley's hands in front of me, swinging them happily between us.

She stared up at me, her eyes bright and sparkling.

I heard the pastor talking, but he sounded far away like one of those teachers in the Charlie Brown cartoons. I was too busy staring at her. He cleared his throat. I looked up at the guy. "Your vows," AJ hissed.

"Oh...fluff," I said. "I got distracted. Sorry." Ashley laughed. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the folded sheet of notebook paper I'd written my vows on. I shook it opened and took deep breath, staring down at the chicken scratch writing I'd done. It was like I couldn't read. I looked up at her. I swallowed. "Okay so I had this stuff I wanted to say, but like I dunno... it's like it doesn't matter what I was gonna say anymore cos... like... your eyes kinda made it all seem stupid or something, like there's no words I can say that're as perfect as your eyes are." I chewed my lip. "I can't tell you I wanna spend forever with you 'cos it's already there in your eyes, and I can't thank you for being beautiful 'cos like beautiful isn't even the right word..." I shook my head. "I dunno. I'm just really... happy. Thank you."

I said thank you like a person ending a speech.

I was pretty sure I'd sounded real dumb, but Ashley didn't look like she thought it was dumb.

"I'm sorry that came out all dumb," I said.

Ashley smiled, "No it was perfect."

I smiled back at her. "I'm glad I didn't mess up."

She laughed.

"It's your turn," I said.

Ashley nodded. She reached into the bodice at her dress by her arm and pulled out a folded piece of pink paper. She held it up, hands shaking. "Nick," she read, her voice trembling, "I knew I'd get in front of you and lose all my words so I wrote some down just incase I looked at you and couldn't breathe and every fragment of my vocabulary evaporated. Luckily, there's really only one word I need to tell you to say it all right now." She paused, looked up at me, her eyes burning right into mine...

The pause seemed to last forever. A thousand universes and eternities could've passed. I would've been fine just existing right there forever.

"Oliver."

I kissed her.

Before: Elvis Has Left The Uterus


Ashley

"Don't forget the bag."

"The bag. Right. Shit the bag. I mean shoot. I mean -- crap where's the bag?"

"I moved it to the closet," I answered.

Nick scrambled, tripped over a plastic firetruck, and just caught himself before falling down. He hopped two steps to the hall closet door and yanked it open.

"Why is daddy acting crazy?" Zoey asked from my feet.

"Because Daddy's very nervous," I answered, "Although I don't know why, it's not like we haven't done this before!" I called after him.

Nick struggled to yank the bag out of the hall closet. "That doesn't make it any easier!" he called back. He flung the duffle bag over his shoulder.

"By Baby Number Four it should be routine," I answered.

Nick almost tripped over the fire truck on his way back to my side. He scooped Leslie up onto his hip and held out his hand for Oliver's. "C'mon, lil man, let's go."

"Where we goin'?" Oliver asked.

Leslie pulled on Nick's ear, her thumb in her mouth.

"Mommy's going to have your new baby sister," Nick replied.

"I already have two of those," Oliver complained, "I want a puppy."

"Yeah! A puppy!" cried Zoey excitedly. She whipped around to look at me. "Mom! Can you have a puppy instead of a baby?"

"It doesn't work like that shortstack," Nick said. "Now c'mon everybody, let's goooo out to the car! Before your mother pops."

"Why would mommy pop?" Oliver asked.

"Zoey, get the door," Nick said, ignoring Oliver's question. Leslie pressed her face against his shoulder. Nick let go of Oliver's hand for a second as he jumped down the steps to the lawn. He held out his hand for me and helped me down the steps as best he could while carrying a 2-year old, and a full duffle bag of stuff.

"Always the gentleman," I said, smiling at him.

"I try," he replied. Then, "OLIVER! Do NOT go near the street. C'mon, we gotta get mommy in the car and you guys next door."

"WHY CAN'T WE COME SEE THE PUPPY BE BORN?" Zoey wailed.

"There's no puppy!" Nick said. "Only a baby sister."

"When do we get to meet her?" Oliver asked, "Is she gonna be stinky like Leslie?"

"You're stinky, too, you know," Zoey retorted.

"I'm not stinky," Oliver whined.

Nick opened the car door for me, looking thoroughly stressed. "I'll be right back. Are you okay? Should I call and have them come get the kids?"

"I'm fine, sweetie. Bring the kids over."

"Okay. C'mon goof troop..." Nick grabbed Oliver's hand and Zoey led the way through the hedges to the next door neighbor's yard, and up to the door.

The neighbors, Jenna and Robbie, were a new couple who were expecting and liked borrowing our kids to practice with. They'd graciously volunteered to baby sit after AJ and Rochelle had to go home because Miss. Presley - who we'd named after Elvis, in honor of Las Vegas, the moment we'd found out she was going to be a girl - was taking her sweet time coming out of her squishy little home in my belly.

I watched as Nick heaved Leslie onto Jenna's hip and transferred Oliver, who was promptly throwing a fit realizing that we were both leaving, into her care. He hugged Zoey, then thanked Jenna, shook Oliver off his leg, and galloped back to the car.

He swung into the driver seat. "We still okay?" he asked, turning the key.

"Yeah," I breathed heavily.

Nick backed down the driveway, "This never gets less stressful," he muttered.

"Well this time you had three kids to deposit before taking mee-eaahh!" I clutched my stomach. "Oh God. You'd think at least this would get easier."

"Don't forget the first time you thought you were dying with the contractions," Nick reminded me.

"Oh Jesus, you're right. This is easier than Zoey."

"And the second time Oliver was like a billion pounds."

"Which is why I don't understand why Leslie didn't just slide out like she was on a slip-n' slide," I groaned.

Nick had perfected the drive from the house to the hospital. Years of pregnancies, crazy mishaps, high fevers, ear aches, (and that one time when Oliver swallowed an apple core), had led to his ability to weave through the streets, getting there in the shortest possible time. He pulled up out front and ran inside for a wheel chair, returning moments later with it. He helped me out of the car and into the chair and closed the door and pushed me inside, the duffle bag strung across him.




Nick

I think it was more stressful because we'd agreed this was the last one. I wanted this time to be perfect. I wanted it to be our milestone memory.

The nurses and doctors were a whirlwind, bringing me and Ashley upstairs. She was brought right to a delivery room, and Dr. Jorryn, who had flown in to Nashville just for the occasion of delivering our fourth baby, was waiting with his scrubs on. He smiled, "Are we ready to welcome Presley into the world?" he asked.

Ashley nodded, "Oh God yes," she said. "I'm so done with being pregnant."

Dr. Jorryn smiled, and helped me and the nurse get Ashley up onto the table and her legs into the stirrups. "Let's see how far along you are," he said, ducking down.

Ashley looked at me, "Now no wandering off anywhere this time." When she'd had Oliver I'd been sick and not allowed into the delivery room, and when she had Leslie I'd been at a meeting in New York, reinstating my status as a member of the Backstreet Boys. This time would be the first time since Zoey that I'd been in the delivery room with her. And Zoey's circumstances made it complicated. This was the first time I'd be an active part of the delivery.

"I'm not going anywhere," I promised her sincerely. I held her hand in mine and looked down at Dr. Jorryn as he rolled his stool backwards and stood up.

"Well," he said, smiling, "It looks like it's already show time, Ashley."

I gripped her fingers.

Ashley stared up at me.

Nurses and Dr. Jorryn crowded around her and Dr. Jorryn said, "Push, Ashley."

And Ashley pushed. She grabbed onto my hand with both of hers and I used my other hand to wipe her hair off of her brow. Sweat poured off her body. But despite all that, she was beautiful, giving life. Despite the sounds and the horribly pained expression and the death-grip on my fingers so tight I thought they were going to break, I was glad that I was there for this.

It could've been moments or hours, I'm not sure which because I got caught up in the sweep of the event, but I heard Dr. Jorryn say, "And here she is... Ladies and gentlemen... Elvis has left the uterus." He winked at me as Ashley dropped back onto the pillow, exhausted. "Dad... you wanna get in on the action or what?" A nurse was holding up these medical scissors and Dr. Jorryn motioned for me. I took them and went over and he held up the umbilical cord.

He also held up Presley. She was a little writhing raisinette of a thing, all covered in blood mess and purple. My heart swelled like the Grinch's heart. I cut the cord and they swept her away.

I rushed back to Ashley's head. "Baby, she's beautiful," I gasped, "Wait until you see her. She's beautiful."

Ashley smiled tiredly up at me. "I can't wait."

Presley was crying from the table where they were weighing her, measuring her, cleaning her. Then they wrapped her in a soft pink blanket with little pink ducks all over it, slid a pink cap on her head, and they brought her back over to Ashley.

They laid Presley down across Ashley's chest and I leaned over so I was hovering behind Ashley, looking over her shoulder at Presley's little wrinkly face. "She's like an old man," I laughed.

Ashley laughed, too, but then she said, "Nooo, she's perfect." Her finger gently touched Presley's nose.

"Yes she is," I agreed. "She really, really is."

Before: Let Me Hold You Awhile


Nick

I helped Ashley out of the car. Her long white hair was in a braid down her back. I led her carefully into the coffee shop and helped her into her seat. She smiled up at me. "You're so good to me," she laughed.

"I do what I can." I looked up at the coffee counter. "What do you want, baby?" I asked.

"Vanilla chai," she said, smiling.

"Coming right up." I hobbled to the counter, glancing back at her. My old hips ached like somethin' else. And I had this dull throbbing in my chest that had started the week before, a feeling I couldn't quite identify. I rubbed my chest through my shirt as I waited my turn in line, leaning on my cane.

"What can I get you?" the barista asked as I stepped up.

"Two grande vanilla chai," I replied. I looked at the case. "And that little cake right there. With the spinkles."

The barista smiled, "Yes sir."

"Can you do me a favor?" I asked.

"Yes?"

I reached in my pocket and put a candle down on the counter. "Could you bring it over to me and that foxy woman sitting by the windows over there, with this on it? It's a surprise."

The barista looked past me at Ashley, who was smiling, looking out the window at the sunlight.

"Yes sir," she said. She smiled. I dropped my money onto the counter, and left the change.

"They're going to bring it over," I told Ashley as I lowered myself carefully, creakily into the seat across from her. I put my hand on the table and she wrapped hers around it. I turned mine so we were cupping each other's fingers. I smiled at her, studied the wrinkles that had formed around her face, wrinkles that hadn't been there once upon a time but that had grown and appeared over the years so gradually that I'd scarcely noticed their arrival.

"You are the most beautiful woman in the world," I said.

Ashley laughed, "You silly old man," she said. "Don't go telling lies."

"I ain't lyin," I croaked out. I grinned at her, "There ain't a single woman in the world that could hold a candle to you, you sexy thing."

Ashley's eyes sparkled.

"Thank you for being my wife," I said.

"Thank you for being my husband," she replied.

The barista brought over the chais and the cake, the candle burning happily in the center of it. She put it down in front of Ashley, smiled, and said, "Happy birthday." Then she put the two cups down and hurried away.

Ashley looked up at me, "Look what you've done," she laughed.

"I couldn't help myself," I answered.

Ashley blew out the candle. "You want to know what my wish was?" she asked, pulling the candle out and sucking the frosting and cake from the bottom of it.

"If you tell me that, it won't come true," I said.

Ashley stared into my eyes. "You make it come true every day."




Ashley

That night, Nick put on the old record of Free Falling that he'd given to me years and years ago, and we danced in the living room, holding each other close, his face buried in my hair. He rocked me back and forth gently, singing along with the record under his breath.

I couldn't have written our lives better if I'd been given a pen and paper and told to tell our story. From that day in the hospital when Nick had woken up until that very moment dancing in our living room on my birthday, there wasn't a thing that I would've changed.

Not a single thing.

We'd aged, sure, we were creaky and old and our hair had turned white and Nick's laugh lines were lost in the mess of wrinkles that had taken over his face. Weathered, I thought. But we'd lived. We'd seen the world together with our children, and we'd experienced life like some people only dream about.

We'd found that happily ever after that so many people only dream of finding, that some think only exists in fairy tales and songs.

Nick kissed me softly, his hands running down my back.

As the song came to an end, Nick took a deep breath, and he sat in his old chair, rubbing his chest as he smiled up at me, a tired expression on his face.

"Do you want a drink?" I asked him.

He nodded, "A drink would be nice."

I went out to the kitchen and I opened the fridge and poured us each a glass of pomegranate juice. "It's been a lovely day, baby," I called out to him as I put the juice away. "Thank you, for everything."

"You're welcome," he called back.

I lifted up the juices and started back to the living room.

I put the juice on the table beside him, and he lifted it and sipped it, smiling at me. I sat on the end of the couch, sipping my own juice. "Do you want to watch a little TV?" I asked him.

"Sure, that sounds good." He nodded. His hand was rubbing his chest gently.

"You okay?" I asked.

Nick nodded.

I turned on the TV.

He looked over at me about halfway through the program we were watching. "Hey baby?" he said.

"Yeah?" I looked over at him.

Nick's eyes sparkled, "I love you."

"I love you, too," I said.

He got up and came over onto the couch. He held out his arms. "Let me hold you awhile," he requested. I scooted into his arms, and he locked them around me, and rested his head on the couch cushion behind me. I leaned my head against his chest.

They said it hadn't been painful for him, that it was probably one of the most peaceful ways he could've gone. The bullet had finally shifted, though only slightly. They said if he'd gone to the hospital when his heart first started bothering him they might've been able to extract it, graph the wound, and ultimately save him. But he didn't. So the bullet had created a small tear in his artery, and his heart had simply slowed until it stopped. And he'd died on the couch, in his sleep, holding me.

I heard it when his heart stopped.

It was like the world ending.

After: We Go Way Back, Me and Dogface


Ashley

I woke up with a start.

Something felt strange. Not particularly wrong, just... different.

I got up and walked into the bathroom and splashed water on my face. My hair hung like a feiry red curtain. I stared at it for a long moment, the water running over my hands. I stood up and looked at myself in the mirror. My skin was tight, smooth. My eyes were bright, my hair was red. I was wearing that old purple dress from the night Nick and I almost ran away to Vegas.

My throat burned.

"Oh my God," I whispered.

I didn't panic, there was no fear, really, just... shock, I guess. I touched the mirror, half expecting it to be an illusion.

I left the bathroom, looked around. But there was no sign of him. I opened the bedroom door, my feet soft against the carpeted hallway as I passed each of the kids' rooms, down the stairs... "Nick," I called into the house. "Nick!"

He had to be here somewhere.

I pushed open the door that led out onto the deck... a deck that didn't really make sense to have there, seeing as it was on the house in Los Angeles and everything else had been the house in Nashville, but I guess rules change on the other side.

The ocean stretched out for what seemd like all eternity from th deck. I stood there, the boards warm under my bare feet from the sun. The air smelled like salt. Gulls called to one another.

"I thought I'd find you here."

I turned around, and there he was. Sitting in his chair, a smile on his face, his eyes sparkling.

"Nick," I said, breathlessly.

"Hey," he said.

I rushed forward, falling onto his lap, wrapping my arms around him. He was young and handsome and the scar from the plane crash was gone, and the wrinkles, like mine, had smoothed. All that was left were those incredible laugh lines that framed his mouth.

"You're here," I gasped, pressing my face into his neck.

"Of course I'm here..." he smiled, "I told you a long time ago you're gonna hafta do a lot worse than shoot me to get rid of me."

I've never hugged anyone so tight. Ever.

He smiled, hugging me back.

And the best part was... we didn't have to ever, ever let go again.




Nick

There aren't really any words to say to end the story. I mean it doesn't really end, it's just time to stop telling it to you, you know? We got our happily ever after -- and happily ever after even after that.

I guess really the point of this all is that when you love someone, you gotta tell'em so. Because things change so fast in the world, in people's lives. One moment you're in the air and the next you're free falling.

Ashley was the best thing that ever happened to me, in this life or the next. She was the person who held me together when I fell apart. Every thing that I ever did for her could never be enough to repay her for the gift she gave me: her love, her life. Our story started way before the day I said oliver, and it'll continue long after I finish up here.

All stories do, when you think about it. Every ending is just a beginning of something else.

And you never know what might come out of the roots of your stories. Even the stories that go way back...

After all, we go way back, me and Dogface.