The band was loud, raucous, passionate, and completely awesome.  They’d already won a Grammy the year before for their debut album, and, now, they were well on their way to recording their second, far more successful album.  The bassist’s fingers were sliding along in perfect rhythm with the drummer, while the lead singer bounced on his toes as he strummed ecstatically on his guitar.

Cara sat in the sound booth, her fingers busily rushing across the pad of paper in her hands. Around her, several more sketches were spread across the counters.  All black and white pencil sketches, they awaited the band’s selection and approval before she would start on adding color.

When the song ended, she finished the latest sketch with a flourish and lined it up with all the others.  The door to the booth opened, and Nick breezed in, a grin on his lips, though she noted that it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

She tilted her face up, a returning smile on her lips as he brushed his own over hers.  Squeezing her shoulder lightly, he plopped into the chair next to hers.  “So, what’d you think? Inspirational?”

“They were awesome.  I knew there was a reason why they’re on my favorites list on the car stereo,” Cara answered with a smile.  “I think they have another hit album on their hands.”

“Yeah, I think so, too.” Nick leaned back in his chair and watched as the three-man band that had taken over the charts seemed deep in discussion about something in the recording booth.  “The sound is so good that most producers don’t want to mess with it or mix it.  It’s pure perfection.  Pretty cool.”

She rubbed his shoulder comfortingly as his voice dulled a little.  It was doubtful that most people could hear that tinge of sadness in his voice, but it was there.  “Congratulations on yet another successful project, Nick. You needed this.”

His sigh was partly frustrated and partly tired.  Cara was right; he had needed something, anything to go well at this point in his life.  In the last couple months, nothing had seemed to satisfy him.  The Backstreet Boys had played a benefit concert at the end of August, and, where performing usually gave him a huge high, this time, it had left him feeling tired and old.  Even Sydney hadn’t been able to pull him out of his slump.  That, though, was probably due to the fact that, every time she would call Spencer, she would end up crying, thus making Nick feel even more miserable.

“Can’t you just go talk to her?” Sydney had pleaded with him repeatedly in the latter half of the summer.  “We’d all be so much happier if you did!”

He hadn’t gone to Nashville.  It had been over two months now, but he’d stayed in Tampa, preferring to wallow in his misery, rather than deal with its source.

“I guess I did need it,” he said now to Cara.  She didn’t respond, but her presence in his life—something he’d never thought would be possible after they called off the wedding—made him feel as though he wasn’t a completely lost cause. Yet.

An hour later, the band had taken off to catch a flight back to the next stop on their tour, and Nick walked Cara out to her car.

“Thanks for coming in and doing this for the group.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned against a light pole.  “The album cover is going to be pretty great when it’s got color.”

She leaned against her car and smiled.  “Hey, I’m just doing my job, and the cover will be phenomenal when it’s done.  When has my work ever not been amazing?”

“Umm…never?” Nick suggested with a smirk.

“Ding, ding, ding! Correct answer.” She grinned.  “I’m just lucky enough that all three of those guys like my comic strip so much.  Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.”

“It doesn’t hurt that you’re a friend of mine either,” Nick added.  “Otherwise, it might have been hard for them to convince you to do their album art.”

She tapped a finger on her chin thoughtfully.  “Well…You have a point.  I guess I am pretty lucky that we’re so close.  Gives me easy access into your rock star lifestyle, huh?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m really a rock star these days,” he said dryly.  He hadn’t felt like a rock star in years.  At least, not since he had to get surgery on both of his knees in his mid-thirties, after which he pretty much lost all hope of being able to jump around and go nuts on stage.  “Anyway, I should take you out to dinner one of these days, as a thank you.”

“Oh, absolutely.  Because, you know, giving me this hefty commission clearly isn’t enough reward.” Her eyes twinkled in the glow from the setting sun.  “But, yes, we should grab dinner.  I don’t get to see you nearly enough these days.”

He shrugged.  “I know, but, between these guys recording the new album and my newest act in development, things have gotten kind of hectic.”

Finally, Cara thought.  He’d just given her a way into the conversation she needed to have with him.  “So work’s been keeping you busy, huh? Are you sure that’s all?”

“Yes,” Nick replied quickly then winced.  His answer had been too forced, and the look on her face told him that she knew it, too.  “Okay, it should be.”

“How long do you think you can go on like this, Nickolas?” she asked quietly.  “In the last couple months, I’ve watched you turn into the walking dead.  You look like you haven’t slept in years, and you barely eat anymore.  That’s not the Nick Carter I know.  I can’t stand seeing you like this.”

He sighed heavily and ran his fingers through his hair in a frustrated motion.  “It’s just the work, Cara,” he began but was cut off.

“Damn it, don’t lie to me, Nick! Not to me.” Her voice was soft, but he could see the hurt in her eyes.  “You love Spencer, Nick.  I know it, and that’s why I cut out my own heart and let you go.  Don’t you dare lie to me after what I did for you.  I just want to see you happy,” she added quietly.

Guilt swamped him again as it did often these days.  Guilt over the way he’d treated Spencer and guilt over the heartache he put Cara through.  Somehow, he thought, both women had still managed to love him despite his best attempts to hurt them.

“I’m sorry, Cara.  I am.” He reached out and took her hand in his.  “I guess I’m afraid of what will happen if I try to talk to her.  She was a wreck that last time I saw her, and that was because of me. I don’t want to hurt her anymore.  I wish I hadn’t hurt you either,” he said, softly squeezing her hand.

She waved it away.  “I’ll get over it, but you, on the other hand, aren’t getting over it.  You won’t get over it until you find some sort of closure, whether it’s getting back together with the love of your life or resolving things with her in order for both of you to move on.”

“I know-”

“Then you must know that I’m going to pester you to death until you go to Nashville and see her.  I’m tired of seeing you like this, and I’m sure Spencer is probably just as much of a mess as you are.”

“Yeah, right.” Nick snorted at the idea of Spencer being “a mess”.  She was always cool and composed no matter how much turmoil she was in on the inside.  “She’d never let anything like this get her down for long.  She’s probably moved on.”

“Why are you such a man?” Cara cried indignantly.  “That woman has loved you for over twenty years, for some reason that escapes me because you’re such an idiot.  From what I’ve heard, you’ve made her life hell every time the two of you were together for Sydney’s sake, and she still loved you.  What makes you think she’s going to move on any better now than she did in two decades’ time?”

Nick bit his lip nervously and remembered his hateful words from early July.  “Because I kind of told her I’d be better off if she were dead.”

Cara’s jaw dropped as her face paled.  For a few moments, her mouth just open and closed wordlessly.  When she found her voice, though, she let him have it.  “Just when I thought you couldn’t get any worse! My god, I am so damn lucky I got out when the going was good because who knows what you have wished on me? Nick, how could you be so heartless? Spencer gave you your daughter, she raised Sydney, she must have sacrificed a lot, and still you said something like that to her?”

“I know!” Nick shouted, his voice rising to meet hers.  “I know I was stupid, and I’m surprised that she didn’t just die on the spot.  I saw her face after I said it, and I would do anything to take it back."

“Then do it! Do something!” Cara tossed her hands up, frustrated.  “If you’re as sorry as you say you are, go to Nashville and apologize.  Tell her that you didn’t mean it, tell her you love her.  Maybe she’ll never forgive you, but at least there won’t be any arguments at Sydney’s graduation or wedding or something.  You know I’m right,” she added firmly.

He buried his face in his hands for a few moments.  The only sound was his ragged breathing.  Finally, he lifted his bloodshot eyes to hers and sighed.  “Okay.  You’re right.  I guess I’ve been pretty cowardly to just sit around and do nothing.”

“You were doing a pretty good job of being miserable,” she pointed out, but her tone was light and made him smile a little.

“True.  I guess,” he shrugged a little, “I guess I’m scared to face her.  I’m afraid of looking her in the eye after everything I’ve ever done to her.”

Cara wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tight.  “If she loves you as much as it sounds like she does, she’ll take you back.”

“Promise,” he whispered into her hair.

“Well, if I were her, I would.  She struck me as a pretty sensible person, so I think you’ve got a pretty good chance,” she told him before stepping back.  She smiled a little and patted his cheek.  “We’ll push that dinner off for another time.  Go get her, tiger.”

***

Spencer wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and sink into deep, blissful oblivion.  Instead, she was pressed close to him, her arms wound around his neck, as his breath brushed over her hair.  His hands were settled on her waist, mere inches from where the back of her dress gave way to skin.  She was wearing the daring red dress she’d bought in Tampa for the first time, and, instead of the confidence the boldly sexy dress should’ve given her, she felt nothing more than drained.

She was empty.

When the song swelled to a close, she stepped away and let her hands remain in his.  “Thanks for the dance,” she said softly.

His lips curved in a smile as he leaned forward to brush them over her cheek.  “It’s going to be pretty dull without you, Boss.  You’re the best.”

She managed a smile and squeezed his hands.  “Thanks, Ryan.  Somehow, I think you’ll all muddle along without me.”

“More like hobble,” he joked before squeezing her into a hug.  “Don’t turn into a stranger, now, y’hear?”

She had to chuckle at the down home accent he exaggerated.  She was going to miss her assistant DA’s Yankee attitude for sure.  “I won’t, Ryan.  Thanks.”

When he moved on to dance with the new secretary, Spencer lifted her head and made her way over to where Donna, her best friend and stalwart secretary, was seated with a few others from the office.  She pasted a smile on her face for everyone else before she dropped into a seat next to Donna.

“Was dancing really that torturous?” Donna wondered, her eyes skimming over Spencer’s worn features.

“Come on, Donna, you know how tired I am,” Spencer began.

“Yes, I do, and I told you that you should take that test,” Donna interrupted firmly.  “Ever since that vacation, you’ve gone and lost weight, the bags under your eyes are enormous, and you’re not sleeping.  Honey, you can’t go on this way.”

Spencer sighed and fought not to rub her eyes.  It had taken her forever to use her eye makeup to conceal the bags Donna had spoken of, and she didn’t want to ruin it.  Instead, she ran her hands wearily through artfully tousled curls that were finally beginning to show hints of silver.  “Don’t get mad, D, but I threw up today, too.”

“That’s what, the sixth time in the last two weeks?” Donna clicked her tongue.  “Spencer, really.  Go see a doctor.  I told you what happened when my niece’s co-worker had similar symptoms and waited too long. Poor girl.”

“And I’m telling you that the stress is getting to me.  That’s all it is,” Spencer insisted.  “The transition is taking more out of me than it should, I guess.”

Donna shook her head sadly.  “And none of this strain comes from Sydney’s father, does it?”

“Donna-”

“If I ever see that man,” Donna continued on, unmindful of Spencer’s protest, “I swear, I will string him up by his toes and beat the living daylights out of him for putting you through all this trauma.”

“Donna, really. I’m glad that you feel so protective of me, but I’m going to be fine.  I suppose this last argument was my wake up call to just get the hell over the-” Spencer broke off when a few people from the Commissioner’s office came over to speak to her.  Sitting up and pasting a smile on her face, she tried to sound cheerful.

Twenty minutes later, thoroughly exhausted by the strain of acting happy and cordial and thanking everyone for their support, Spencer flopped into her seat again.  “This is ridiculous, Donna,” she muttered.  “I’m not dying, you know.”

“They just appreciate you, darling,” Donna replied, her hand patting Spencer’s shoulder.  “But, about before, I really think you should see a doctor or take the tests.  Preferably both.  I don’t want to see you get sick.”

“I’ll be fine,” Spencer began but broke off when nausea curled nastily in her belly.  

She must’ve turned green because, the next thing she knew, Donna was pulling her out of the reception hall and towards her car.  “Go home, Spencer.  Drink tea, and, for the love of God, make that appointment with your doctor. You can’t go on this way forever.”

Spencer didn’t bother to reply but nodded her head, climbed into her car, and sped off towards home, hoping that she wouldn’t have to pull over and throw up.  The illness was starting to worry her; or, maybe, it was just Donna’s stories about uterine cancer, colon cancer, and various other diseases that were starting to freak her out.  The trip to a doctor was starting to sound appealing.

The need to vomit everything she’d just eaten returned in full force the second she bounded into her home.  Kicking off her heels, she rushed to the bathroom and regurgitated the gourmet dinner that had been prepared in her honor.  When she thought she’d gotten rid of everything possible, she curled up on the floor by the toilet and wept.  After, she lay there, too emotionally and physically exhausted to move.

Though she didn’t want to dwell on it, her mind returned to thoughts of Nick.  She knew he hadn’t gotten married.  Sydney had told her as had the tabloid mentions of it.  Neither, though, had mentioned the cause for the cancellation.

Not that she was going to care, Spencer reminded herself forcefully.  She was done with Nick.  Over and done, and he was water under the bridge.  There was no use in crying over spilt milk, and she was going to scream if another stupid saying popped into her head.

No, the important thing was that Donna had been right.  She couldn’t go on getting weaker and sicker day by day.  The pounds were melting off of her, exhaustion ached in every bone, and the nausea had set in two weeks earlier.  Stress could be a killer, especially with the way her work was going, but she didn’t want to end up with an ulcer either.

Then again…

Pushing herself off the floor, she crept over to the drawers under the sink, not caring that she still wore the silk dress and was probably ruining it, and pulled out the box.  Staring at it for several moments, her breathing labored, she peeled it open.

Five minutes later, she stared at the results unblinking, wavering somewhere between shock and panic.  Her knees melted as she sank to the floor and wept again.

***

Nick stared up at the tidy house and hoped he was doing the right thing.  He was too damn old to be doing the wrong thing all the time, and it was about time something went the way he wanted.  Taking a deep breath, he walked up the pathway, climbed the porch steps, and rang the doorbell.

Several moments passed, and he wondered if she was even home.  One glance behind him confirmed that her car was still there, so she must be inside.  But, even as he rang the doorbell again, he realized that it was possible for her car to be at home without her…if she were on a date.

He should’ve known better, he told himself, than to think that she would sit around pining for him for another twenty years.  She was a strong, smart woman, and it would serve him right if she moved on when he finally realized she was his soulmate.  

His thoughts were cut off when the door opened, and Spencer gaped at him.  “N-Nick?”

Nick’s eyes swept over the low-cut dress and her tousled hair, thinking that she looked stunning.  Then, his stomach dropped as he wondered if there was a man in the house.  If he’d interrupted them-

His eyes met hers, and he could now see that they were puffy, swollen, and bloodshot.  There were dark circles under her eyes, and, when he looked closer, she seemed fragile and pale.  “Spencer.  A-are you okay?”

Her hand clutched the doorknob as she stared up at him in wonder.  Was he really standing on her porch or was she hallucinating? When she blinked furiously, trying to wake herself up, she came to discover that he was still there.  “Nick! What are you doing here?”

“I, uh, needed to see you,” he began nervously.  A gust of October air swirled around them, and Spencer wrapped her arms around herself and shivered.  He noticed and gestured inside.  “Can I come in?”

She swallowed hard, her fingers digging into her arms.  “Um, yes, o-of course.” She held the door open wider, letting him in, then led him to the parlor.  When they were seated, she remembered how exposed the dress left her.  Her arms tightened around herself as hysteria began to bubble in her throat.  Somehow, she managed to speak clearly.  “Why are you here, Nick? I thought we’d said all that needed to be said a few months ago.”

He tried not to think about how sick she looked in the lamplight, but he couldn’t help it.  He just wanted to pick her up and hold her close.  “There was a lot that wasn’t said, Spence.”

Spencer closed her eyes briefly against the pain the nickname brought her.  “Nick, I—this really isn’t a good time.”

His eyes narrowed on her.  “Are you sick? You look sick.  What’s wrong, Spencer?”

“Nothing,” she whispered, perilously close to tears.  “Please, can we do this another time? I’m sorry, but I really need to be alone.”

Nick reached for her, his fingers brushing over her hand before she retreated.  “Look, I know you’re angry with me, and you have every right to be.  I said some awful things, and I need you to know that I didn’t mean them.  I swear, Spencer, if I could take everything back…I would,” he finished softly, his eyes fixed on the mixture of emotions in her eyes.

She didn’t speak, couldn’t.  The hot ball of tears in her throat clawed higher, and she was sure she’d explode at any moment.  He couldn’t be around when that happened, she thought, panicking.  She had to get him out.

“Nick,” she began, trying to keep her voice steady.  “I’m sure you’re sorry, and I’d love to hear your apology, but not tonight.  Please, we can do this some other time, okay? How’s tomorrow sound?”

Her voice had broken at the end, and Nick moved towards her.  “Let me help you, baby.” His voice was gentle, and his hands were careful when he took hers in them.

The touch broke her.  Tears spilled forth as she laid her head on the armrest and wept more tears than she’d thought herself capable of.  Instead of backing away the way she thought he would, Nick simply picked her up and held her in his lap.  She tried to pull away, but he firmly kept her close against him as her painful sobs wracked her thinning frame.

What, he wondered, was happening to her? He was suddenly and deathly afraid she was dying.

It took her several minutes before she calmed down, and Nick’s agitation grew by leaps and bounds.  When she no longer shook with sobs, he let her go when she tugged out of his grasp.  He was ridiculously worried by the time she sat across from him again, her eyes redder than before, the gray so dark it looked black.  

“I-I’m sorry for that,” she said finally, her voice hoarse from crying.  “I really didn’t want you to be here for that-”

“Why not?” he wondered.  “You shouldn’t be alone when you’re that upset.  W-will you tell me what’s wrong? Because something’s wrong, and you can’t lie to me, Spencer.  We both know each other better than that,” he added when she opened her mouth to protest.

Spencer bit her lip, anxiety pulsing within her.  Finally, she took a deep breath and said, “I’m not sick, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

The relief made his shoulders sag, and he managed a small smile.  “Well, that’s really good news.  But it doesn’t explain why you look as awful as I feel.”

She opened her mouth, then closed it.  Then, thinking long and hard for a few moments, she opened it again.  “It’s a side effect,” she whispered, and Nick had to lean forward to hear her.  “I…Oh god, Nick, I’m pregnant.”

There was a moment of stunned silence.  They both sat, staring at each other, shock in their eyes.

“But you…I mean, you’re—Jesus, Spencer, you’re not exactly young anymore,” Nick blurted out after a moment.

She blushed red as her hair.  “I know! Don’t you think I know that? I wasn’t expecting this either, Nick!”

He was quiet again for a few moments before he cracked a tiny smile.  “Sydney’s going to be thrilled to have a little brother or sister.”

Spencer half-heartedly nodded, her hand unconsciously moving to rest over her lower abdomen.  “Yeah, I guess.”

“How long have you known?”

She glanced up, eyes sharp again.  “Well, aren’t you just full of questions?” Her anxiety over her condition quickly fading, she focused on Nick and the reason behind his visit.  “You haven’t answered a single one I’ve asked, and you think I’ll just answer all of yours?”

“Spencer-”

“Why are you here, Nick?”

“Are we ever going to have a conversation where we’re not yelling at each other?” he asked wearily, one hand rubbing at his temple.  “I didn’t come here to upset you or yell at you.  I came to apologize for…” He faltered, unable to meet her eyes.  “For what I said to you that day.  It wasn’t really how I feel.  Felt.  Actually, I didn’t know what I felt at all that day, and I really hope you’ll forgive me for hurting you.”

She was already softening towards him, and she knew it.  His eyes were so sincere as they pleaded with her, and his expression was so apologetic and cute, she wanted to throw her arms around him and beg him not to leave her.  “We both said a lot of things that I think we should just forget about.” She held out her hand warily.  “Truce?”

Nick looked from her hand to her face as a sly smile began to curve his lips.  Before Spencer could see it coming, he’d hauled her into his arms and held her tight.  

“Nick, what are you doing?” she asked indignantly, trying not to relish the feeling of being held by him.  “Let me go! I’m too tired to play your games.”

“This isn’t a game,” he murmured, his lips brushing against her ear, causing a shiver to race up her spine.  “I’m not letting you go again.”

“ ‘Again’?!” Spencer continued to struggle.  “What do you mean by that? When did you ever want me in the first place?”

He tsked a little and grinned when she tried to pinch him through the coat he wore.  “I’ve always had you, Spence, but I never realized it.  I shoved you away too many times when all I’ve wanted is to have you here, by my side.  Always.”

She went completely still at his words.  Then, in a trembling voice, she asked, “Wh-what do you mean by ‘always’?”

Nick leaned back a little, tipping her chin up gently to look into her wide eyes.  “Until I die.  Maybe even after that.  You know, I’m not so great in the romance department, and I don’t know how else to tell you that I’ve always needed you, even when I tried not to need you.  I know we’re halfway done growing old, and we’ve done it without each other, but I don’t want to grow old without you anymore, baby.”

A single tear slid down her cheek as she shook her head, disbelieving.  “Nick, I don’t—I don’t know what to say.  This summer, you told me you hated me, you wanted me gone, but, now, you’re telling me that you want me with you? I’m sorry, but I just don’t understand.”

“Yeah, I figured.” He pressed his lips to her forehead before launching into an explanation.  “When you were in the hospital when you were pregnant with Sydney, I was so angry with you because I thought that you didn’t care about me or our baby enough to take care of yourself.  I know we’d never talked about love, but it was just enough for me to know that you wanted to marry me.  I didn’t need you to love me back, the way I loved you.  But then, with everything that happened, I thought that maybe I was trying too hard to force feelings out of you that you didn’t have.  I was tired of fighting for a love that I wasn’t sure even existed, so I told you we should break up.” He sighed, lowering his head to rest his forehead against hers.  “I guess it confirmed that you really didn’t love me or care for me when you didn’t try to stop me. And that pissed me off.”

Spencer drew in a shaky breath before lifting her eyes to meet his.  “I did love you, Nick.  Always.  I thought that you walked away so easily because you didn’t love me, that you only loved our baby.”

His arms tightened around her.  “Well, we were both stupid and wrong, and I think we’ve wasted enough time apart.”

Her eyes darkened with emotion.  “Nick, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying-” He puffed out a nervous breath before stepping back until only their hands linked them.  “I’m saying that I’m in love with you, I’ve always been, and that I want to marry you.  For real this time.  I want to grow old with you, and I want you with me always.  Please, Spencer,” his voice lowered to a pleading whisper, “please say yes.”

She wondered how she would speak when she’d just been offered everything she’d ever longed for.  “I—Nick, are you sure?” She couldn’t bear it if she married him, and he turned her aside after a few years.

“Yes, absolutely yes.” His grip on her hands tightened as his eyes grew more intense.  “Spence, I’m through lying to you and fighting with you.  We’re too old to keep doing that, and I just want to be with you now.  I don’t care if I die tomorrow, I just want to know that you’ll have been with me.” He reached up to tuck her hair behind her ear.  “I love you, Spencer.  More than I knew, less than you deserve.  Marry me.” He smiled a little.  “Sydney grew up being shuttled between two homes, and I don’t want this next baby to have to do the same.”

Spencer’s brows lifted as she glanced down at her belly before looking into his eyes again.  She could see his heart in them and wondered if hers was swimming in her eyes, too.  “How do you know that this baby is yours?” she asked in a watery voice.  “It could be someone else’s.”

He chuckled at his, making her brows rise higher.  “I might have been an absolute moron before, but I’m not stupid.  Neither are you.  You wouldn’t have slept with some other guy any more than I could’ve ever married someone who wasn’t you.”

“You came close,” she pointed out stubbornly.

“Yeah, but then I didn’t,” he reminded her softly.

“Why not?” Spencer couldn’t help but cling to stubbornness.  It felt like all of her dreams were coming true, and she was afraid she’d wake up to find it all just that.  A dream.

Nick cupped her face in his hands, holding it as though she were made of fragile crystal.  “Because I love you, and only you, Spencer.  No matter how pissed off I was at you or you with me, deep down, I know we both knew that it’s always meant to be you and me.”

“Just you and me,” she murmured, her skin heating where he touched it.  Closing the distance, she pressed her lips to his and was swept up in his arms.

A long while later, she lay curled in his arms, his cheek resting against hers.  Their hands rested over her belly where their second child grew.  There was silence between them, but a good silence.  A peaceful one.

Then, Nick ruined it.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he reminded her, poking her lightly.

Spencer turned her head slightly, bumping his nose with hers.  “What question?”

“Will you marry me?”

“No.”

“What?! Spencer…” He came close to whining, and she couldn’t help but giggle.

“Gotcha.”

“You little sneak.”

“Yeah, but I’m your little sneak.”

“Yeah.  Mine.”

“Just like you’re my old creep.”

“I am not a creep!”

“But you’re my creep.  Don’t you want to be my creep, Nick?”

He drew her closer as warmth radiated in his heart.  “Yeah, I guess I do.  I love you, Spence. So much that I’m going to move up here.  From what I hear, you’re an awesome District Attorney, and I don’t want you to give up something you love and enjoy.”

“Oh, Nick.” She snuggled against him, feeling as though she were glowing; he had removed her every ache.  “That’s so sweet, but you’re not moving to Nashville.”

“Spencer, then how-”

“I resigned from my post.  It was too hectic and stressful, and, besides, I’ve always wanted to open my own firm.  So that’s what I’m going to do.” She paused.  “I hear they need good lawyers in Tampa.”

His heart thudded with joy.  “Yeah, they do.”

“Well, then, that’s settled,” she murmured.  Brushing her lips over his, she smiled.  “I can’t wait to be by the water again.”

“Yeah.” Love for her shimmered through him in intense wave after wave.  “I love you, Spence.”

She smiled and rested her head against his chest, feeling his heart beat.  “I love you, Nick.”

And they lived happily ever after…except for the not-so-occasional squabble.

THE END.

AN: Ta-da! There you have it, folks! The end...Was it the way you'd hoped? Was it surprising? Too rushed? Just right? Feel free to let me know! Thanks again for sticking by this story!