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Too Late, Too Late; James+Deborah(OFC), 2001-
Topic Started: March 22, 2011, 1:11 pm (15,643 Views)
Broken, Beat & Scarred
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Thanks for commenting, everyone! :heart: Finally, I'm here with an update. :) I'm superbusy with essays and exams and the thesis, but I also have managed to write sixteen pages in between reviewing the thesis and essays and whatnot. So, yay!

Hope you guys haven't gotten bored with waiting for an update! :)


Part 62:

Deborah's tests had been done and the results had been so good that they were letting her go home this afternoon. The doctor had told me that she had a minor skull fracture, which didn't affect things much – other than she should not do much during the following weeks. Bed rest, more or less. But I should still keep an eye on her in case she had a concussion or something.

She'd been lucky. If she had fallen a little differently, she wouldn't have made it.

We had rescheduled our tour, Deborah hadn't liked it, but I was not going to leave her alone like this. We had eight weeks off now.

~*~*~*~*~

Deborah had been staying in the bedroom downstairs while I had been sleeping upstairs, next to Sarah's bedroom, in case she woke up during the night. I really wanted to sleep next to Deborah, but I didn't want to, or couldn't, sleep downstairs because of Sarah, and Deborah had refused to come sleep upstairs. Well, not really refused, but she had said that she didn't want to 'inconvenience' me, and I didn't want to start arguing with her – the doctor had said that she should not be stressed, not under any circumstances. But it pissed me off that she thought it would bother me to have her upstairs.

But this night she would sleep upstairs. I'd decided on that. I didn't care what she was going to say, she was sleeping upstairs.

I knocked on her bedroom door, which was ridiculous because we were supposed to be in a relationship together and I still needed to knock before going into her room. She told me to come in and I opened the door a little bit.

She was in bed, under covers, reading a book.

“What's up?” she asked me, closing her book.

“You're coming upstairs with me. That's all,” I told her, sitting down on her bed.

“James, the doctor said that I shouldn't-”

“Yeah, I know,” I said, interrupting her. “I've been a moron. You're supposed to be in bedrest, not walk, especially up the stairs, in case you fall down or whatever, but isn't it good that you're living with a strong man who'd love to carry you up to our bed?”

“James...,” she started, sighing.

This wasn't exactly going as I had imagined. “What? You don't want to?”

“It's not that... I just... I haven't felt that good during the night, so, I don't want to disturb you.”

“You wouldn't be disturbing me. What disturbs me is that you're here and not sleeping next to me. And I'd sleep better knowing that you're there.”

“Okay.”

“Good, what do you need me to take up for you? Your book, anything else?”

“I'm fine. I don't need anything,” she said, setting her book on the nightstand.

“Come on, it's no trouble. You can tell me to do things for you, if you want. I don't mind.”

She sighed again. “Okay, well, the book, my things from the bathroom, the clothes from the chair and my cell phone.”

“Alright. I'll take them up and I'll be right back to get you.”

I did as I told her, took her stuff upstairs and returned for her. She was sitting on the side of the bed, waiting.

“Can't believe I didn't think of this before. I'm so stupid,” I told her, laughing. I really hadn't even thought that I could just carry her up there, I had just kept thinking that it sucked that I couldn't sleep downstairs because of Sarah and that she couldn't sleep downstairs with us because there was no room for her downstairs. Or there was no room for her to have her own bedroom downstairs, at least.

I lifted her up and carried her upstairs to our bed. I laid her down and sat down next to her. “This is better.”

She smiled at me a little “I'm glad we worked things out,” she told me.

“Me too. You need anything?”

She shook her head. “I'm good.”

“Not hungry?”

“Not really.”

“Okay. How about we watch a movie? We haven't done things together in a while...”

“Yeah, if you want us to, sure.”

“Alright. Anything special you want to watch?”

“You pick whatever you want,” she said, shrugging.

“I'll go grab something, then, I'll be right back.”

I went downstairs and raided our DVD collection, trying to find something she would enjoy, too. I noticed a movie Deborah must have bought, A Walk to Remember, it was a bit sappy for my taste, I was sure, but exactly what she liked. I grabbed it, went to get some snacks from the kitchen and went back upstairs.

I put the DVD in the player and sat down next to Deborah. “I wasn't sure what you wanted to watch, so, I picked this one, I guess you've gotten it recently,” I said, showing her the DVD case.

“You won't like it,” she said, “We can watch something else.”

“I'm good. You'll like it.”

“Well, yeah, but you're going to be bored and I'm going to cry and it's just not a movie that you'll enjoy. It's okay if you want to-“

I interrupted her. God, she could be annoying at times. “Hey, which one of us picked the movie? Why are you acting like this? Like I don't want to do anything that might bother me or that I might find boring or stupid or whatever?”

“Sorry,” she muttered, not looking at me.

“No, really, I'm asking, why?”

She sighed. “Because that's how you used to be. That's why we never watched any other movie than The Good, the Bad and the Ugly, or whatever. That's why we always stayed at your apartment, went out with your friends and so on.”

“Haven't we talked about this? That I've changed?”

She shrugged. “I just don't want to start an argument over something as trivial as a movie.”

“No-one's arguing.”

“Yet,” she said quietly, mainly to herself, I guess.

I frowned. “What does that mean?”

She looked at me briefly. “It'll happen. One of these days. It's coming.”

“You mean we're not going to get along for a long time?”

“We never do.” Well, she had a point there. We argued a lot. Apart from few times when we both worked on our relationship, trying not to argue or upset the other. But that was something we could not do all the time.

“But I've-”

This time she cut me off. “Changed. Yeah. I've heard that speech.”

I sat down on the foot of the bed, looking at her. “So, you're saying that I'm lying?”

“I'm saying that I'm insecure about us getting along, because in the past we haven't. Not for a long time, not without an argument over something stupid. And I'm fine with us doing things your way, I don't want to make you watch my stupid sappy movies or anything like that.”

“You're not! I suggested we watch a movie and I picked the movie. How are you forcing me?”

“I guess I'm not,” she conceded.

“And is that why you didn't want to sleep up here? Because you don't want to 'inconvenience' me?”

“Well, it's not your problem if I'm-”

“Come on, Deborah!” I said as loudly as I dared, hoping that Sarah would not wake up easily. “If we are in a relationship, if we're going to be doing this, then yeah, I'm going to care about you, which means that it is my problem if you do not want to sleep in the same bed with me, or if you don't always want to watch my movies or hang out with my friends or whatever the hell it is that isn't to your liking. But fuck, throwing something like that to my face now? That's ridiculous. Not once have I said that I do not want to watch this movie or that it's an inconvenience to me that you've been in the hospital, right? If you want us to work things out then maybe you should consider letting go of the past, because what you're doing right now isn't really helping!”

“I'm sorry.”

“Don't be sorry, be fair. If I had been complaining that I didn't want to watch this movie, then yeah, you'd be right, but I never said that.”

“Well, maybe you thought that.”

Well, I had thought that. “Well, maybe I thought a lot of things, so what?”

“Nevermind. I don't think I'm in the mood to watch the movie.”

“Fine, whatever.”
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Shayniz21
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Deberah is being difficult, if she wants to work things out they she needs to
let go of the past and move on with the new. She needs to see that James is trying, shes letting her insecurities rule her completely.

Very good, I love this story! I know your busy but dont take too long to update again lol :biggrin
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Broken, Beat & Scarred
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Well, time sure flies. It feels like I updated like two days ago, but it's already been over a week!

But thank you for commenting, Shay! :heart: Glad to see I've got one reader left. :) I've been trying to re-read this next chapter for quite a while now, and I've only gotten half-way done, but I decided that tonight I would finish it no matter what. So, I did and here it is. Hope you like it. :)


Part 63:

She lay down carefully and turned her back to me. I turned the TV and the DVD player off and couldn't resist the urge of throwing the remote against the wall. I saw Deborah flinch from the corner of my eye. I rubbed my face with my hands feeling exasperated.

How the fuck had this turned into an argument? This?! Me bringing her up here to sleep in our bedroom, me suggesting that we watch a movie and me for once picking a movie that she would like. Really? And hadn't I just barely ten minutes ago thought that we should not argue, under any circumstances.

But then... She had said that she didn't want this turning into an argument, and I'd been trying to pick a fight almost. At least, I'd been the one to take offense at what she'd said, even though I knew that she was only telling me about her feelings. And all those things that she mentioned... Most of them had been true at one point in our lives. We always had done things my way, so, yeah, maybe she wasn't used to me being okay with watching her movies or whatever.

I touched her shoulder slightly. “Hey, I'm sorry.”

No reaction.

I lay down on my side, rubbing her arm gently. “Look, I overreacted. I understand what you're saying, but it doesn't feel nice when I'm trying to be different and better and you won't accept that. It hurts. Especially when you say that you weren't happy with the way things were before.”

“I said I was fine.”

“I know you did, and you always say that. But you've also said before that you're not really okay with it. So, I don't know which it is in reality. Maybe it is okay for you, I don't know, but it sure as hell isn't okay for me.” I peeked at her face over her shoulder and saw that she'd closed her eyes and that she was biting her lip slightly. “I feel like you're afraid to cross me, to disturb me and whatever. I don't know what the hell for. And, no matter why that is, you really shouldn't be afraid to do that. I'm not saying that it would bother me if you did that. If you crossed me. It doesn't bother me the slightest that you're up here, but even if it did... You're entitled to do that. That's what bugs me, that you wouldn't share that part of your life with me, I guess. I mean, yeah, I know, I've told you a thousand times that I'm going to change and whatever and I never have, not until now. But I really have changed now. I was hoping that you'd have seen that already, but, I guess you haven't, or you just haven't thought it's for real, I don't know.”

“I think it is real, but it's been that way before, too. You change for a while, but then you change back. So, before that happens again.... I'll just go with it.”

I wrapped my arm around her and kissed her shoulder. “You shouldn't settle. And I'm not going to change back. I'll never start drinking again.”

But I couldn't say that I wasn't tempted to drink. Especially on days like these. Or after I'd proposed to her and she'd said no.

“I'm not settling.”

“Yes, you are. You really are if you think that this is only for now, that one day I'll go back to drinking and treating you like shit... You are settling. You're telling yourself that this won't last, but that it's okay, because that's all you can have. Because... Maybe... I think that you don't think too highly of yourself. Do you think you deserve to be with a good man, to have a wonderful family, to have great friends or do you think that the best you can do is a guy who's an alcoholic and who doesn't treat you well?”

“You're putting words into my mouth.”

“Only if you agree with what I'm saying.”

“No!” She looked at me and looked furious. “You're saying that either I think I don't deserve a good man or that the best I can do is someone who's not a good man and who's you. That that's it.”

“What I don't get is that you say that I am a good man. So... Why would you say now that I'm not?” I felt bad for ignoring what she'd said and worse still because I was trying to pick a fight. Again. For fuck's sake.

“I'm not saying that, you're implying that. I didn't want to argue in the first place.”

“Yeah, you said you didn't want to argue about something as ridiculous as us watching a movie and here we are.”

“Because I started it, right?” She was silent for a second and when I didn't say anything, she continued, “Good night, James.”

“Night, night,” I scoffed and left the bedroom quickly. Why couldn't I control myself?

I jogged downstairs quickly, grabbed a notepad from my desk drawer in my office and went back upstairs. I went to Sarah's room, thinking it would be the best if I let Deborah be alone, after all, it didn't seem like I made things any better.

I went and sat in the bay window in Sarah's room. I tapped my pen on the pad a couple of times until I started to write.

Honey,

we obviously have a lot to talk about, still. And I don't know why, but whenever we try to talk, we always end up arguing. Like tonight. I admit that I was egging you on tonight and I shouldn't have been and I feel crappy about that. I mean, I pretty much forced you to come upstairs, and I don't think I even asked you if you wanted to come up or not, and then ruined your night, so, I'm really sorry about that. I just don't know what to do with you. I love you so much and I want to work things out, but I still feel like you don't want that. Not all the time. So, maybe this is really lame, but I'm just going to write what I feel and then you can read this on your own when you feel like it and then we'll see what happens, because... I sometimes feel that we both misunderstand each other on purpose. Or maybe not even on purpose or maybe we do understand each other but then just go on talking about something that's completely ridiculous like tonight.

You had a point about us watching the movie. Yes, in the past we've done things my way a lot, but that's been different ever since I came back from rehab, hasn't it? I mean, of course there are times when we have done what I've wanted to, but it's not like we always do that. I mean... I think I've treated you a lot better, we've talked about a bunch of things, we've done a lot more things than before my rehab, when, yeah, mostly what we did was me drinking and you just hanging out. But since rehab... Come on, I've”


I looked at the notepad and realized I had made a big lump of dots after 'I've'... Because I couldn't come up with anything.

“Well... I guess you have a point. We've mostly talked and talked, and made up and argued and talked. But I mean, we've watched movies and done things that we both enjoy. But it's not always about the movies, I know. We've been out with your friends a few times.... I know that's maybe not enough and that we could do a whole lot more, but it's something. And I'm sorry, but I still think that since I picked the movie, it shouldn't have progressed into such an argument. It wasn't like you were forcing me to watch it. So, there has to be something there, something that you haven't told me about, because you don't develop that kind of an argument from a movie. So, maybe you just don't trust me, is that it? And I wouldn't blame you if you didn't, I know that I haven't been trustworthy in the past, but I hope that you'll find it possible. To trust me that is. I'm not saying that I deserve it, but I think that would make things so much easier. I wouldn't have to keep proving myself to you all the time and maybe we could get through things, things like picking a movie to watch.

And I'm sorry I turned the discussion to me. But... I think that's an issue we need to talk about. Because I don't believe you if you say that you think you deserve a good man, because... Well, not because I think that you think I'm not a good man, but because I feel like you settle a lot. And yes, I think that you've settled with me. I think that you could have found someone better. I really do. But I also don't value myself highly, so, that may be a factor. In the hospital when we were talking about my proposal and you declining... I asked you if you don't want to be with an alcoholic high school drop out or whatever... And... Well, that's how I see myself. You've passed high school with flying colors and you've studied at a prestigious university, you have a bachelors, a masters and a doctorate... So, how am I supposed to compare to you? I feel inferior, I admit that. But... I don't know. I still feel like you have similar issues. Maybe not about education, but... something. And I wish you told me about them, because we should know each other through and through, I think. And logically thinking, I know that you don't care if I have or have not graduated from high school, but I just... get fearful sometimes that maybe there's someone who's more like you, someone that suits you better than I do. So, I don't know, maybe I was just trying to get you to admit that that you're not happy with me so that I could have... I don't know, just gotten pissed at you.

And really, when you don't tell me things, or when you try to not inconvenience me and all that crap, I just feel like you don't care. I mean, I understand that you don't want to argue about a movie, but it's okay if you tell me what you want. That's perfectly okay. You don't need to hide behind the pretense of keeping me happy. That's just ridiculous.

I would like to suggest something, but I'm not sure how that will end up biting me in the ass. You said that you're just waiting for me to change back, right? And I'm saying that that's not going to happen. I would like you to forget about that. I don't want you to keep waiting for that. I'm not going to change back, but if I do, I want you to tell me what's happening and I want you to do something about it. Yell at me, punch me, kick me out, whatever, but do something. I don't want you just accepting it, because you shouldn't. I know that I can be an ass sometimes and back then I was an ass most of the time and then some. So, just... Do something, please.

So, all in all, I guess I'm saying sorry about tonight.”

I ripped the few pages I'd filled from the notepad, checked on Sarah and took the notepad back to my office. I folded the letter in half and when I got back to our bedroom, I placed the letter on Deborah's night stand. She was sleeping already, and I guess I had been writing for well over an hour.
Edited by Broken, Beat & Scarred, June 10, 2012, 4:47 pm.
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Shayniz21
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I'm glad he wrote her that letter. I hope she understands James POV. I understand her insecurities but I feel she is making more work for herself by dwelling on the past, but then again I know what its like to have insecurities and how hard they are to let go. Ugh....I'm torn just like James and Deborah. Love this story!!! And of course I'm still reading this fic is awesome!!!
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Broken, Beat & Scarred
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Thanks for commenting and reading, Shay! :heart:

I think, or hope, that this part will make Deborah's behavior easier to understand, even if she is not actually in the chapter. But I think she and James will work things out soon. ;)

I hope you continue reading and commenting and if anyone else is reading, do comment, comments make me happy. :)


Part 64:

I sat down on the couch and took my cell phone out of my pocket. I dialed Kirk's number and waited for him to pick up.

“Hey man,” he answered quickly.

“Hey, this a bad time?”

“Nah, just playing, working on some riffs. What's up?”

I shouldn't have called him. I shouldn't have. Kirk's her best friend. “Umm... Well... I was wondering if I could talk to you about Deborah. Confidentially.”

I think I heard him setting his guitar down. “Sure man, something wrong?”

“Well, yes and no. She's fine and I'm fine, but I'm not sure if we're alright. I mean.. We argue about everything. As usual, I guess, but I've changed, and... Like tonight we argued about a fucking movie. I picked one of hers and she thought that I didn't want to watch it and it just escalated from there...”

He was quiet for a moment. “Okay, well... umm... Well, I know that you have had a lot of issues lately and over the years, and I just wonder if you've talked things through, thoroughly? About whatever happened in LA and the proposal thing and all that?”

I leaned back on the couch and looked at the ceiling. “Well, I thought so. But... I guess not. I mean, she said that she doesn't believe that I've really changed. Which is fucking ridiculous, she knows that I've stopped drinking and all that stuff. She fucking knows that.” I clenched my free hand into a fist, realizing how pissed off I was getting again.

“I don't think it's that easy, I mean, her just knowing that you've changed. She has to believe it and, no offense to you, but you've told her several times that you've changed and then you've changed back.”

I shook my head. “So, you're saying that there's nothing I can do.”

“No, I'm not,” he said, in that particular tone of voice that I recognized. He was being overtly patient, trying to keep me calm. “I'm saying that for her it makes sense to believe that you haven't really changed or that you'll change back. I guess the only thing you can do is to make sure that you treat her so that she'll realize you really have changed. I can see that you have, we all can, but with her history... Surely you can understand, too, that she doesn't have the best history when it comes to men and I'm sure that she's, for the most part, just trying to protect herself from getting hurt.”

I snorted. “And she's not hurting herself this way?”

“I'm sure she is, that's not what I'm saying, but I think that in her point of view, it may be easier to think that you're still the old James than to believe that you've changed and then notice later that you really hadn't.” He had a point. As usual.

I sighed. “So, what should I, or we, do?”

“I can't tell you what to do.”

I sighed again. Maybe I could get something out of him if I rephrased my question. “What do you think we should do?”

“I really can't say, James. I don't know.”

“I just don't know if I should keep trying or if we should just forget about this.” I didn't want to say that, but I had been thinking about that option for a while now. I loved Deborah so, so much, but it didn't make sense for us to keep arguing all the time.

“And it's really not my place to comment on that. You're both my friends and I can't really take sides in this, nor do I want to.”

“I'd take her side, I guess. I mean, the things I've put her through over the years we've known each other...,” I said quietly.

“James, you called me to complain about her having issues with your past, right?”

“Well... I guess.”

“And you're unhappy with the fact that there are some things that she is still holding onto,” he said matter-or-factly.

“What's your point?”

“My point is that you're doing the same thing as she is.”

“The hell I am.” I realized I was getting defensive, which meant that he was probably right.

“You feel guilty for making mistakes in the past, mistakes that as far as I know you have more or less talked about. And you keep blaming yourself for them. And in a way that's what she's doing. She's projecting her past experiences into her present relationship.”

“Okay. Maybe... But still, even if I do feel guilty and think that I don't deserve her, I don't want to let her go. I'm in love with her. I would not do anything to hurt her. Well, knowingly. But... I hate all this arguing. I don't want to keep doing that, either, it really isn't making me happy. And I mean, we talked about taking a break and we agreed that we'd talk about that again after she was okay again. But...”

“Why are you talking about a break?”

“Because we're not happy. Well, I mean... We're not unhappy... But I know that we could be happier, and that bothers me. Especially since we argue a lot and it's... well, it's just not what it used to be.”

“And why do you think a break would help?”

“How the fuck should I know? I don't know what the fuck I should do.” I was getting annoyed with the conversation, but I couldn't really just hang up – I'd been the one to call him and ask for his advice.

“Well, who's idea was it to have a break?”

“Mine.” I rubbed my face with my free hand, feeling exasperated.

“Well, then you must think that it could it helpful.”

“I did,” I admitted. “But... She said that if we take a break, it'll be the same as us breaking up.”

“So? Does that change your opinion on why you should take a break?”

“No, but I can't suggest it to her anymore, because she'll think that I want to break up with her.”

“Well, forget about her for a while. What would the break help in your opinion?”

“Honestly, I don't know if it would. There'd be some distance between us and maybe we could think about certain things on our own. But I don't know if that would make a difference. I don't really know what the problem is in the first place. Or well, I mean, I know that she doesn't trust me one hundred percent and that she has issues, and I do too, but I don't know if us taking a break would help with that. Maybe she'd just have all the more reason to not trust me because she'd feel that I've broken up with her. Because she won't be the one to suggest that we take a break, it has to come from me. And I'm sure that she'll misunderstand me on purpose and think that I want to break up with her. But all I want is for us to work this thing out. For us to be happy together.”

“Have you told all this to her?”

“I can't!” I yelled out, “She doesn't listen to me. Or she will but she'll hear whatever she wants to hear, not what I'm trying to say.”

“Did you ever do therapy with Phil?” he asked. It was ridiculous, sometimes, how much he knew about our relationship and plans.

“No. We both agreed to, but we never got around to.”

“Well, maybe you should try that. It doesn't have to be Phil, but... Maybe you could try and work things out that way.”

I laughed a little. “Yeah, with my luck she'd think that I'm telling her that she's insane and that she should get help.”

“I don't think that would happen. She's a reasonable person.”

“I don't know. Well, yeah, I mean she is reasonable, but with the way things have been between us, I wouldn't be surprised if she did think that I was telling her that she's insane.”

“Well, I guess it would depend on how you word it. If you say, 'Honey, I think you should see a therapist,' then yeah, maybe she would. But if you tell her that you're not happy in your relationship and that you'd like to work on it, together with her and maybe see someone about it... I don't see how she'd think that you're calling her insane. It's just a matter of how you word it.”

I nodded, though he couldn't see it. “And if we end up breaking up?”

“That's a risk you have to take. I mean, that risk is always there. It won't just suddenly appear if you suggest you see someone. I honestly think that if you don't do anything about this it'll happen anyway. Because from what I've heard, both from you and from her, you're not doing well right now and you need to do something about that. What it is exactly, I don't know, but it has to be something.”

“I guess I can't ask you what she's told you...,” I said, hoping that he would tell me what he knew. That would be unfair, because Deborah wouldn't have wanted me to know those things, but I needed to know them. It would help me a whole lot in trying to work things out with her.

“No, you're on your own with that,” he confirmed. “That was confidential, as well. Just try not to lose your temper when you talk with her.”

“I know. I try to do that, but it's difficult, because she keeps pushing my buttons. And it annoys me that she doesn't trust me when I tell her that I've changed. I hate that.”

“I know, man.”

“Well, I guess I'll stop bothering you with this. Thanks for your advice.”

“No bother, man, what are friends for and so on.”
Edited by Broken, Beat & Scarred, June 10, 2012, 4:52 pm.
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Shayniz21
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I do understand where Deborah is coming from now. I guess it was hard for me to see because I would do the same thing, and its hard to look at your own flaws and admit them lol. I hope they can work things out soon.

I don't know why people aren't commenting like they used to. Nobodies reading my fic either :rolleyes: I don't know if I should keep writing. The comments whether they be good or bad, keep me going. But don't worry I'll keep reading and commenting! :biggrin
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I'm reading With Out You! :) Keep on writing. I haven't made to the last update yet, so, I haven't commented, but I am nearing the last posts, so, you can expect me to comment soon.
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Shayniz21
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Aww thanks!!! I'm actually going to be updating again soon, I'm in this writing mood :lol: Well, Hope you like it and I can't wait for your comments! Oh and don't take too long on updating yours. I want James and Deborah to be happy and 'together' :wink
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Can't believe it's been two weeks since the last update. I simply do not understand how time goes so fast!

Once again, thanks for commenting, Shay! :heart: Glad you're reading.

Now onto the next update, let me know what you think!


PART 65:

I spent a few more hours downstairs, before going back to our room. I wasn't sure if I should sleep in there, because we'd argued and I was sure she didn't want to see me, talk to me, or much less sleep in the same bed with me. I wanted to work things out with her, but I didn't know what to do, not really.

I was surprised to find that the bed was empty and the night light was on when I got to the bedroom.

I peeked into the bathroom and found Deborah crouched down next to the toilet. She was half-crying, half-throwing up.

So, this was what she had meant when she said that she hadn't been feeling that good during the night. I walked over to her, crouched down next to her and held her hair back for her. I stroked her back gently. I felt even worse now, for having caused that argument. That was exactly what she hadn't needed.

“Go away,” she whispered, reaching back to push me away.

I knew how she felt. I'd never wanted her around when I'd been hungover or when I'd been throwing up because of a wild night or because I was sick. Especially if we had argued before that.

“Do you want some water?” I asked her instead of going away. I was not going to leave her. Not a chance.

“No,” she said, sitting back and leaning her back against the bathtub. She wiped at her eyes and avoided looking at me.

I got up, filled a glass with water even though she had said that she didn't want any water. I also grabbed a towel and soaked it with cold water. After I had flushed the toilet, I sat down on the floor, next to her.

I brought my hand to her face, pushing some of her hair behind her ear. “I'm sorry. I was acting like an ass. I'm just stressed out. Among other things.”

She nodded. “I'm sorry, too.”

I handed her the towel and she laid it on her knees which she'd drawn up against her chest and laid her head down.

“I read your letter,” she said quietly.

“That's why I left it on the nightstand...”

“You probably have a point with most of the things you mentioned. Maybe I don't trust you. Maybe I am settling. Or think that I am. Thinking that you haven't really changed.” She spoke quietly. She glanced at me a few times while she was speaking.

“Mm... Thought so.” I didn't know what I was supposed to tell her. My mind was blank. Totally blank.

“But I don't know how to change that, I'm sorry,” she continued.

I ran my thumb over her cheek, drying her tears. “Let's just work on getting you better right now, okay? Do you feel like going to back to bed?”

“You don't want to work on us?” she whispered.

I sighed. “Of course, I do. I love you and I want to do whatever it takes to make us work. But more than that I just want you to be okay. To get better. I can't lose you.” She nodded a little. “Let's get you to bed, okay?”

I got up, helped her up, too, and waited for her to wash her face and brush her teeth. I then scooped her up, though she would have been more than capable of walking to the bed herself. I set her down on the bed and started to move away but she held on to me. “Don't go,” she pleaded.

“I'm not going anywhere,” I promised her and somehow managed to roll onto my side of the bed without crushing her under me.

“I want to believe you,” she told me. I wrapped my arms around her and kissed her forehead softly.

~*~*~*~*~

“How about that movie?” she asked me after I'd told her that Sarah was sleeping already.

“Sure,” I said and smiled at her.

We hadn't yet spoken about us, mainly I'd been busy with Sarah most of the day, and while I wanted to talk things out, I really wanted her to get better first. I assumed that we'd end up arguing anyway, even if when we were trying not to do that, and I didn't want to stress her out at this stage. So, I was willing to push back the talking part. Not forever, but for a while.

I was about to leave the room when she asked me to wait. I turned around to look at her. “I just wanted to say that I'm scared.”

“Of what?”

She was quiet for a while and I thought that she wasn't going to answer, but she did. “Of losing you, for example. And at the same time, I'm afraid of trusting you. I'm afraid that maybe one day you'll realize that you don't want me after all. And I'm afraid that I won't measure up...” She smiled at me a little, but the smile wasn't a happy one, it was a sad smile.

“Measure up to what?” I asked her, though I had a pretty good idea of what she meant.

“To... anything,” she said, shrugging a little.

“Other women?”

She shrugged. Which probably meant yes in this case. She had said something about that before.

“Sweetie,” I started, walking over to the bed. I sat down next to her and took her hand in mine. “You're the only woman I've loved. Truly loved. And how is this an issue now? We started going out years ago.”

She looked down at our hands. “Because I can tell that you've really changed. I can see that. Sometimes I don't want to see that, because there's a part of me that feels better when I think that you're like you used to be. Because then I can think that where you're dissatisfied with me, I can feel the same way about you. That we're even.”

“O...kay. And why are you not satisfied with me?”

Now she looked at me. “I am. That's the problem. I don't think that you're satisfied with me, so, if I am satisfied with you, that makes things unequal. Because then I should work on things to keep you in my life but you don't have to do the same.”

I frowned a little. “Okay, well, why am I not satisfied with you then?”

She looked down again and spoke quietly. “Sex. Mostly.”

“Uh-huh. And I've complained to you about our sex life how many times?”

“Well, you haven't,” she admitted.

“And what might that mean?”

“Either you don't have complaints or then you'd feel bad for complaining. Either or.”

“I'd go with the former.”

She took a deep breath. “So, you don't want us to have sex more than we do... or did?”

“Well, I didn't say that.”

“You want us to have sex more than we did?”

“Also not what I said.”

“So?”

“I like having sex. All guys do. And I really like having sex with you, making love to you. But knowing that you're not ready to do that now... I'd feel bad wanting to have sex or pushing you to it. And that's not just now. I mean... There are two people in this relationship. Let's say you want to have sex once a week and I want to have sex five times a week. One of us has to make a compromise, obviously. And if it makes you uncomfortable or whatever if we have sex more than that one time a week... I'm not going to ask you to do that. I can't. That would be a dick move. And likewise, if the tables were turned, I would appreciate it if you didn't talk me into having sex every night if that wasn't what I wanted.”

“It's not fair,” she said.

“Maybe it isn't, but people are different. It wouldn't be any fairer for me to ask you to have sex with me more than you want, even if that was what I wanted or needed.”

“I used to like having sex with you.”

I smiled at her a little, even though hearing that from her hurt. A whole hell of a lot. Used to. Not anymore. But in the past. “That's good to hear,” I said quietly. She turned to look at the wall and I figured we were done with our discussion for the time being. I got up, kissed the top of her head and walked over to the door. “I'll be right back,” I told her, waving my hand toward the stairs, figuring I'd go get the movie and some snacks. She just nodded.
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Shayniz21
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Well.....they're making progress....slowly...but its still good. I'm glad she's opening up. They both need to talk or fixing this relationship is not going to get happen. Great update!!
Edited by Shayniz21, June 11, 2012, 8:35 pm.
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ElisabethOrion
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I love this story. :) Keep up the good work!
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Voxx
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Some Kind Of Monster
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Please don't hate me for being the worst reader of all time! And allow me to please apologize for being the worst reader and commenter of all time!

However! I am finally caught up. And what can I say?

As this talking about nothing! It's killing me. One of them just needs to pony up and put it all out there on the table. Once its out there, the other can't just refuse to talk about it, otherwise that would just be plain crazy.

What I can say though, is that James is clearly trying very hard. And at this point, I almost feel like he making more of an effort here than Deborah is. I don't know what it is, but at this very moment, it's difficult to sympathize with her (at least for me!). I feel very firmly Team James. I definitely feel as though he has been the one that has made effort after effort, olive branch after olive branch towards Deborah (post rehab that is) and Deborah just isn't reciprocating.

Anxious to see how this all goes and ultimately whether or not they choose to go on that break or not.

:)
Edited by Voxx, June 27, 2012, 8:22 pm.
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Broken, Beat & Scarred
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Hey all! First off, I'm sorry for the delay in posting another update, I've been crazy busy and preoccupied with other things lately.

Thanks for all the comments! Shay, Elisabeth and Stephanie :heart:

Next part is up, things will start going better from now on, I hope. And I hope Deborah's effort-making is visible. :)


PART 66:

I jogged downstairs and took a few deep breaths, leaning onto the living room wall. I was pissed off. So, fucking pissed off. But at the same time, I felt like I hadn't shown that to her. I was proud of myself... I'd been able to keep my cool, though I had really wanted to yell at her... For thinking that I wasn't satisfied with her and for thinking that I had been wishing she was different, more willing to have sex.

Especially because that wasn't entirely too far from the truth.

Well, I was satisfied with her, or I had been back when we actually had been having sex. But had I wished she'd want to have sex more than she did?

Hell yeah.

Okay, so, I had often been getting drunk, already been drunk or hungover when we'd had sex... which meant that I probably hadn't pleased her a whole lot, which probably had an affect on her sex drive. Or lack of it. Why would she want to have sex with me when I only cared about myself?

But that hadn't stopped me, I'd wished she'd want to have sex more.

I grabbed two bottles of water, some chocolate chip cookies and went to get the movie. Then, I jogged back upstairs and found her right where I'd left her. Sitting on the bed.

“Okay, cookies, water and a movie. Did you want popcorn?”

She shook her head. “I'm fine.”

“Alright.” I went over to the DVD player, put the disc in and went to sit on the bed next to her.

About fifteen minutes into the movie, I grabbed the remote and paused the movie. “Can I just say something? I don't want you to comment on this is in any way, I'm just going to say it.”

She nodded. “Okay.”

“Before, like years ago, when I was drinking and such, I'm sorry if and when I haven't taken your needs into account when we've been having sex. I realize that there must have been dozens and dozens of times then when it was all about me, and that's not right. So, I'm sorry, not that it makes a difference, but... And if that has had an effect on your willingness to have sex later on with me, and I can't see how it couldn't have... I'm even more sorry.”

I grabbed the remote again and aimed it at the DVD player, but Deborah reached her hand out and placed it on my hand holding the remote.

“It makes a difference,” she said simply. “And as long as we're saying things that the other one is not allowed to comment on, can I say something, too?”

I forced a smile on my lips and said, “Of course.” I wasn't sure what she was going to say.

“In response to your letter... Partly, at least... This thing about your alcoholism. Yeah, I don't like it. I mean, that shouldn't be a surprise. Why should I like it? But that doesn't mean that I don't accept it. I do. I understand that you have a problem with alcohol and I accept it. I don't have to like it and neither do you, but I would never hold it against you. You've been brave to get help and even braver staying on the wagon. I'm proud of you for doing that. I imagine it cannot have been easy.” I nodded a little at that. It hadn't. It wasn't.

She continued, ”Of course, if you fell off the wagon and if it became a problem, then... I would do something about it, but... I don't think that me accepting your alcoholism or your dropping out of high school or whatever constitutes as me settling. I fell in love with you years ago and I don't think I could do much better. I know that we've had our share of problems, god, do I know that, but I think that when we're good, we're great together. And not settling. Do I feel inferior somehow? Sure. I mean, you have a great career, you've made all this for yourself, by yourself. Well, with the help of friends, too, but still... You've changed a lot, from an angry young man to a balanced man, a great dad. And... you'd want old boring me? I mean... What can I possibly offer to you? I don't know anything about music or anything artistic. I'm... Well, I guess I'm an okay mom, but... You could have someone a lot better than me. Someone who...” She wiped some tears off her cheeks and took a deep breath. “Someone who you wouldn't have to argue with all the time and who could give you want you want. Sex, marriage. Someone you wouldn't have to cater to or reassure all the time. I just... I guess I don't know what you see in me, really...”

I'd wanted to make her stop talking about halfway through her little speech, but I wanted to let her tell me what was on her mind.

“How am I supposed to not respond to that?” I asked her. I turned around so that I was facing her, setting the remote down. “What do I see in you? I'll start with the obvious, the mother of my daughter who I love so, so much. Both the daughter and the mother. I see an amazingly beautiful woman, who's been through too much crap in her life. I see a strong person who got through losing a parent and who's made a career for herself as a lawyer. Studying hard, working at the same time to pay for the education... I don't see how me being a musician is any better than that. Different, sure, but better? No. I see the woman who taught me how to love and how to feel when you are loved. To appreciate the feeling. I see the woman whose presence and influence in my life was so big that I tried to please you, to change for you, even after I'd lost you. I see the woman who makes me happy every single day. That's what I see in you. And what can you offer? Things that I haven't had. A family, a home, love, happiness... Those kinda things. And sweetheart, you have given me what I want. The things I haven't had before you. The marriage thing... That's really beside the point. It's not the most important thing in the world. It's a nice thing, but not the most important of them. Sex isn't either. Those are things that we can work up to, and use time on them. I'm not going to leave you because you refuse to marry me or because you are not ready to have sex with me. Never.”

As I had been speaking, I could tell how touched she was by my words and how much she really needed to hear those things from me. Though I hadn't told her anything that she didn't already know, I realized, once again, that I needed to tell her how I felt way more often than I did.

“I'm sorry I don't tell these things to you more often.”

“You don't have to,” she said.

“Deborah,” I said, looking deeply into her eyes. “I can see how much it meant to you to hear me say those things. So, yes, I do have to. And much, much more often than I have before.”

She got up to her knees and wrapped her arms around my neck. She kissed me as I grabbed her by her hips, pulling her closer. I moaned involuntarily as she slipped one of her hands down to my back and then under my shirt.

I felt her smile against my lips and I couldn't help a laugh escape my lips.

She withdrew from me and said, “Laughing while kissing doesn't really boost a girl's confidence.” I looked at her and saw that she was smiling.

I brushed my fingers over her lips, cheeks, hair. “You look so beautiful when you smile.”

“So do you,” she said and completely caught me off guard with that. I'd expected her to blush or start arguing about that. I pulled her back to me, kissing her again.

She pulled back a little, resting her forehead against mine. “James?” she asked, whispering.

“Yes, honey?”

“Do you really want to have sex with me?” she continued, still whispering.

“Oh, baby...” I moved so that I could look her in the eyes. When she turned to look the other way, I turned her face, forcing her to look at me. “I do, I really do. And more than that, I want to make love you. I want to hold you close, kiss you, undress you, make sure that you're feeling good, wanted. I want you to know, that I want you and that I love you. And I want to show that to you.”

“Okay. Okay...” She took a deep breath and continued, “I'll try to work out my problems an-”

This time I cut her off. “Deborah. I don't want you to rush. I don't want you to think that I'm just saying these things to get you into bed with me. Well, I mean, we are in bed now, but... You know. You can take as much time as you need for this. I'll be here. And if there's anything I can do, you know, to help you or to make you feel better, you just tell me, okay? I promise you that you won't be bothering me or inconveniencing me or anything like that. I promise you that. In fact, I can promise you that it will bother me if you do not tell me if there's something you want me to do.”

She nodded a few times, slightly, and I heard her sniffle. “Honey, don't cry. It's okay.”

“No, I'm just... happy. Because you're so understanding. Thank you.”

“I'm just in love with you, that's all.”

She sat back down on the bed and wiped at her cheeks. I went to sit next to her, wrapping my arm around her shoulders. She nuzzled closer, wrapping her left arm around me.

This was the closest I'd felt to her, or even been to her, in a long time. It felt very good.

“Can we just stay like this for a while?” I asked her quietly.

“Yeah,” she responded. “But I do want to see the movie.”

“Five minutes?” I suggested.

“Five minutes,” she confirmed.
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Shayniz21
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This chapter was so sweet!! I loved how she opened up and was able to confess some more of her insecurities. I liked that fact that he was able to keep himself calm and collected, not let his anger get the best of him. She definitely needed him to understand and he needed her to understand. This was a very good chapter (well all of them are :biggrin ) I hope to see them getting back together without anymore "hiccups" along the way!
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I still don't understand how time flies by so quick! I just updated yesterday, or so I thought!

Thanks for commenting, Shay! I hope you keep on commenting! :heart: Next part is up and um... well, I'll just let you read it. Let me know what you think. :)


Part 67:

It had been three weeks since Deborah had been back home. She had healed and gotten better nicely, and she was allowed to be out of bed. I had asked Christina to take Sarah for the night and I had suggested to Deborah that we go out. She had agreed, and was now getting ready. We hadn't been out together, not since... I couldn't even remember. I had a romantic evening planned.

I had chosen to wear a black, button-down shirt and a pair of dark blue jeans. It wasn't a fancy place that we were going to, but since I really couldn't even remember the last time we'd been out on a date, I wanted us to have a good time and to dress nicely, too.

Deborah came to get me from the kitchen. She looked amazing. She was wearing the black pinstripe pants that made her ass look great. She was pulling on her leather jacket. God, she looked hot!

“Ready to go?” I asked her.

“Yeah.”

I walked over to her, wrapped my arm around her waist and pulled her close, kissing her quickly.

We went to the car, I opened the door for her and then got in from the other side of the car. I hadn't told her where we were going to, but I told her about the place now. It was a new steak place that I'd gone to a few times with the guys. I'd liked it and I figured Deborah might like it, too. They had a nice view over the bay and it was pretty popular during the weekend, when a lot of couples went to eat there. I figured Deborah would appreciate a little romance, and as such, I had went ahead and ordered some roses that I would give her at the restaurant.

It didn't take us long to get to the restaurant, maybe about twenty minutes. We were seated right away and Deborah oohed over the view. It did look nice. It was already quite dark and the city lights glittered on the water.

We decided to share a tropical salad and ordered it, along with our main courses. The waiter offered some wines that would complement the meals. I looked at Deborah a little as she immediately said that we'd just have water. The waiter nodded and left, saying that he’d give us a minute to agree on the dinner itself.

“You can drink around me. It’s okay.”

“I don’t want wine,” she replied quickly.

The waiter came back with a pitcher of water. I waited until he left before I spoke again. “Well, I'm just saying... If you want to drink, that's fine. I don't mind.”

“And I'm saying that I don't want to drink. I'm an adult, I can make these decisions myself.”

“But you don't have to-” I started, but she cut me off.

“Calm down,” she said, placing her hand on top of mine.

It amazed me, sometimes, how well she knew me. Just like now, I had barely realized that I was annoyed, or getting annoyed, and all she had to do was tell me to calm down and I felt better and could do that.

I'd felt that over the past weeks she had really come out of her shell and we'd gotten closer and closer. It must have been that talk we had a few weeks ago that changed things.

“I think that it's good that you can be around people who drink. Really, that's wonderful. It shows how strong you are. But I simply don't want to drink wine. I've never really liked wine, though it does go well with certain meats. But even so, I do not want to drink around you. I'd feel bad doing that. Not because I wouldn't trust that you're not going to fall off the wagon, but because it would be rude. Doing something you can't right in front of you?” She smiled a little, shaking her head. “But please, don't make this a huge deal. Because it is not. Mostly, I just don't feel like having a glass of wine, okay?”

I smiled at her. “Okay. And sorry. But I just don't want to feel that you have to do things, or not do things, because of me.”

“I know.” She smiled back at me, squeezing my fingers a little with hers. “So, tell me, how are things going at the studio?”

“They're good. We've just been rehearsing for the tour, mainly. We've done some work on some new things, but nothing much. We're not really talking about a new album just yet. I mean, St. Anger's barely out, so...”

“Is everything okay between you guys?”

“Yeah, we're okay. I mean... Yeah, there's tension, still, but we're fine. Some people weren't ecstatic that we canceled, or rescheduled the tour dates, but they understand it, nonetheless. I mean, we all agreed on rescheduling, but I guess some of us just were looking forward to the tour more than others.”

She smiled. “Who are you covering for?”

“Well... Rob.”

She frowned. “Oh.”

“It's not about you, you know that. He's just so excited to be in the band, so... I mean, I get it. If I was him, I'd want to go on tour, too, and not be stuck in the studio, practicing songs over and over.”

She nodded. “Yeah, I know. That makes sense. And I guess we don't know each that well still.”

“Do you want to come to the studio some day then?”

“Well, sure, but I don't want to intrude or anything,” she shrugged. She was still doing that sometimes – trying not to bother me.

“Honey, you're not an intrusion by any means. You're always welcome to come and see what's going on, you know that.”

She smiled. “I'd love to come. How would you feel about us having the guys and their families over for a barbecue this weekend? Do you think they'd come? We haven't hung out together, all of us, in a long, long time. Well... With Rob... Never.”

I smiled at her. “I think that would be great. I've actually thought about that, but I've wanted to make sure that you're okay and all.”

“I'm fine, James, really.” She surprised me by moving to the other side of the table to come and sit next to me. “Look... I know I've been pretty difficult in the past,” she said, speaking quietly, “and I'm sure I'm not totally over that just yet,” she added with a laugh that made me smile, too. “But I feel a lot better. And I'm not talking about me being in the hospital and not being well... But... My head's in a better place and I'm feeling a lot better about me, about you and about us. And really, that's all because of you. So, thank you. A lot.”

“I haven't done anything much,” I said quietly, feeling as though I didn't deserve the thank yous. She'd done a lot. In fact, if it weren't for me, none of this would have happened, she wouldn't have had to get better in the first place.

“No, James, you have. Really. I've thought a lot about this and, honestly, if you hadn't been so understanding and patient with me, I wouldn't be here with you now. I would probably have given up. I almost did.”

Given up? As in... suicide? My eyes widened and I turned to look at her, shocked. She understood what I was thinking and shook her head, placing her hand on mine.

“No, not like that. That's not what I meant. But given up on you, us. Me. Stayed in bed all day, not caring about anything. So, thank you. And I love you.” She kissed me, sliding her tongue over my bottom lip. Just as I was about to open my lips to let our tongues meet, she pulled away slightly, touching my cheek with her lips. “You've been absolutely wonderful these past few weeks, James. Considerate, thoughtful, loving and lovable. Simply wonderful. And I've enjoyed falling asleep with your arms around me, waking up next to you every morning. And I've been having these feelings... When you've kissed me, or when I've kissed you. So, if it doesn't mess up your plans, too much,” she leaned closer to my ear and whispered the rest, “I would like to inform you that tonight I am saying 'okay'.” She sucked on my earlobe gently before pulling back.

I cleared my throat and tried to get some blood flowing back to my brain instead of my cock.

“You're saying okay,” I repeated her words. I thought I knew what she meant, but I wasn't one hundred percent sure.

“I'm saying okay,” she repeated back. She dropped her hand to my thigh, moving it up to my cock that was quickly becoming erect. My thoughts clouded as she ran her fingers over my shaft. I looked at her and she just smiled at me. I had been right.

I realized the waiter was coming over to our table, so, I pushed her hand back and hoped that no-one had seen what had just happened.

Deborah moved back to the other side of the table, still smiling a little.

I leaned over the table and tried to look stern. “So, who are you and what have you done to my Deborah?”

She laughed and winked at me.

I was baffled. She had never, ever during the time that I had known her ever done anything like that. If she had initiated sex, or brought it up, which she had not done all that often, it had been in her apartment, my apartment, our hotel room, somewhere private. Definitely not in a restaurant where everyone could see us.

But this new thing... Was hot. So hot. Scorching.

I tried to focus on my salad, but I wasn't able to. My jeans felt tight and my blood was... boiling.

“Don't you like the salad?” she asked with a twinkle in her eyes. I had barely touched the salad.

“Oh god. I'm having a little trouble thinking about eating right now. Well, eating my salad. There's something that I really would love to eat,” I said, smiling back at her. I saw her blush and shift a little in her seat.

God! I could not wait to get home!
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