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Story Notes:

I haven't updated this series in a while because I knew I wanted to rewrite it. If you've read the original version, "Will You Love Me Tomorrow?", expect greater depth and maturity in "Save You": a love triangle drama written the right way. Enjoy and please let me know what you think! ~ C

Thursday, July 12, 2007

 Inhale. Count to five. Exhale. Inhale. Count to five. Exhale.

He did this a handful of times before giving himself the mental push to knock on the door two feet in front of him. It had been years since he’d felt nervous butterflies to this degree.

He knocked, and slowly counted to ten. He kept his gaze low; a moment passed and the door swung open. He looked up: she smiled.

            “Hey,” she sighed.

            “Hey.”

She invited him in and without hesitation, wrapped her arms around him. He breathed her in; her scent intoxicated him in the familiarity of the moment. The embraced lingered.

            “Sorry,” he half-whispered, sheepishly. “Habit.” She brushed it off. He then noticed the boxes stacked throughout the foyer where they stood as well as in the hallway at the top of the stairs. He couldn’t believe how much things had changed between them in the last three years… She was moving tomorrow.

            “So, do you think you can handle taking everything that’s upstairs?” she asked, her voice hinted with guilt. “I’m sorry to have to ask you to help with all of this, but--”

            “I’m fine with the twisted déjà vu – I’m only unpacking the studio stuff anyway – I’ll put all the boxes where they need to go, Kev and Kris promised to have the house practically ready when you come back from Tuscany.” 

            “Thank you.” Her voice was soft; there was suddenly an old tension between them. The guilt, the scared wounds…definitely déjà vu. Why did he think this was going to be easy?

Three years ago he helped her pack her things and move out the home they had shared for three years prior. She was the love of his life. They’d separated, grown up, moved on. He was mature enough to agree to help her move yet again because she was about to start a new chapter towards the rest of her life. He knew her better than anyone else. He knew her best.

            “You have your key, right? To pick up all of it on Sunday?”

            “Yep,” he answered, jingling his key ring.

            “I’ll need it when we come back to hand over to the realtor, but…” She handed him a new set of keys. “Those are to the new house. The security system won’t be installed for a few days.”

            “Got it…”

Inhale. Count to five. Exhale.

            “I have something for you actually,” he stammered. “Can we sit for a minute?”

            “Sure.” She lead him downstairs to the basement. “The furniture in office and the bedroom aren’t getting broken down ‘til  tomorrow,” she explained.

They took a seat on the small couch in the home office. He handed her a small gift box – a Tiffany gift box – wrapped with a bow. Her eyes questioned him.

            “I was planning to give it to when we’d gone to The Keys - during that getaway trip we took in '04 - but we…” He didn’t need to finish; she remembered the trip vividly. “Open it.”

Inside the box was a two and half karat, cushion cut, Tiffany Legacy engagement ring. Her dream ring. He’d remembered. Her breath caught in her throat; she could not cry.

            “Nick, I’m getting married in two days,” she choked. “What the hell are you saying?”

            “I've held onto this ring for long enough. I can’t do it anymore.”

This story isn’t a fairytale.