Weekends by Linda

You know what I used to hate more than anything? Weekends! After working my butt off at the station all week long, the only thing I needed on the weekends was sleep. But with grocery shopping to be done on Saturday mornings and working at the runaway shelter later in the day, my Saturday mornings were usually early ones for me. Sundays always involved church when I was a child. They still do for the most part, though not as regularly. Then there's the thorough cleaning my apartment gets every Sunday afternoon. You wouldn't believe the amount of dirt that can pile up after a week of neglect while I work on a case with Chris, my partner and best friend. And jeez! After all that, I was beat by the time the end of the weekend rolled around. Worst thing about weekends though was always waking up all alone in my big cozy bed. Weekday mornings were too consumed with showering and a quick cup of coffee before settling in at the department for a long day of work. But when I woke up every weekend with time to kill before hurtling into one project or another, the longing I felt to have someone whose arms I could fund comfort in only grew stronger. But that was then, and this is now. And now, I love weekends...


I guess you could say my newfound love started one glorious weekend back in 1995. It was Friday afternoon, not technically a weekend yet, but since my partner and I had just gone off the clock, I've always considered it a weekend. We'd just finished a particularly trying case, and I was exhausted to say the least. All I wanted was to go home, turn on the stereo, and take a nice, long soak in my bathtub. But my partner apparently had other plans, as he stopped me on the way out to my car.

"Hey Sammy, wait up!" he yelled from the doorway of the Palm Beach Police Department. I stopped in my tracks and turned to watch Chris jog over to meet me.

"What's up?" I asked, slightly frustrated at being delayed from enjoying the soothing soak that awaited me.

"Nothing much. I was just wondering if you wanted to grab a pizza and a beer or something… unwind a little after the case."

"Well, I was looking forward to a nice, long soak in my bathtub…"

"C'mon, Sammy. We haven't done pizza and a movie in so long," he practically pleaded. There was a reason for that, but I wasn't about to let my mind wander on to that particular subject.

"Pizza and a movie, you say? Well that seals the deal. My place or yours?" For some reason, his desperate voice had erased from my head all the plans I'd had for the evening. Bath? What bath?

"Yours. I know you'll only think mine is…"

"Cold and drafty. I mean, how could anyone get comfy enough to watch a movie when you could freeze of hypothermia in that place?" I jumped in.

"Okay, okay. No need to rag on my loft. I already agreed to your apartment. Why is it you continue to give me a choice when you always win out in the end, anyway?"

"Well, I wouldn't want you to think I was being unfair," I replied sweetly. A day without our witty banter was no day at all for me.

"Ah-huh. Whatever you say, Sam. You order the pizza. I'll grab it on the way over," he said, now walking toward his car. "See ya in about an hour."

"What about the movie?" I yelled out to him.

"Just leave that up to me," he grinned. I knew what he meant by that. Either Maltese Falcon or Casablanca.


Needless to say, I was right. An hour later, he showed up on my doorstep, pizza in one hand and Maltese Falcon in the other. Could I call 'em or what?

"What do you think?" he asked, holding up the video we'd spent many nights watching together.

"How did I know you'd choose that?" I asked, shaking my head in amusement.

"Well, you were almost wrong. I was this close to choosing Casablanca," he gestured, with his fingers mere centimeters apart.

"You were, huh?" Am I good or am I good? I thought to myself, holding in a smile. "You go pop in the movie. I'm hungry, and the pizza's getting cold."

"Boy are you bossy tonight, Sam," he teased, then turned back and smirked at me. "I like it," he raised his eyebrows flirtatiously. All I could do was sigh in mock annoyance.

"Just put the movie in the VCR, Don Juan." I told him, taking a seat on the couch and pulling the coffee table and our pizza box closer to it.

"Here we go," he said, as he pushed the play button and flipped off the light switch.

He returned to the couch and we began gobbling up our pizza and downing a bottle of wine. We were easily done with the food thirty minutes into the movie, so it was then that the lack of light in the room really began to have its effect. I was slowly aware of the fact that we'd somehow drifted closer together during the movie. His left arm rested on the back on the couch behind my head. His left thigh brushed against my right, and his right hand rested on my knee. To anyone onlookers, we'd appear to be a typical couple sharing a cozy evening at home. But we were anything but typical, and much to my dismay, we definitely weren't a couple.

Normally, this invasion of the comfort zone wouldn't have even phased me, or Chris for that matter, but that was before she came along. The same she I didn't want to think about. The same she that was the main reason our pizza and a movie nights were practically a thing of the past. Ever since her entrance into Chris's life, I'd become increasingly aware -- each time his hand brushed mine or he took me in his arms in comfort -- of just how much I envied the woman. That she, of course, was Jillian. Dr. Jillian Dupree. Never before had one name stirred so much anger in me than hers. She treated Chris like the gum stuck to the bottom of her shoe, but he didn't see it, too blinded by love or lust or whatever you want to call it, and I wasn't about to be the one to point it out to him. It'd paint me as the jealous best friend, which it seemed I was. She was the woman in his arms and in his bed, and I wasn't. But that didn't stop me from wanting to be there. So in the interest of our friendship, I pulled back, removing my head from its comfortable place on his shoulder, and excused myself to get a blanket from the bedroom, though I was anything but cold.

In fact, I was quite warm whenever Chris was around. My body temperature rose, and my heart beat faster. I felt like a teenager with a crush on the captain of the high school football team. Only Chris and I were partners, not lovesick teenagers, and crushes among partners a definite no-no. And then there was Jillian.

I shook the thought from my head and returned to seat myself on the opposite end of the couch, blanket in hand, putting that now called for distance between us throughout the rest of the movie. And as the credits began to roll, I figured Chris would look to leave and go see her, but he didn't. A small victory, but a victory nonetheless. He filled our glasses, handed me mine, and held his up as if in preparation for a toast. I followed suit as he said, "To my Sammy, the best friend a guy could ever ask for."

Now I knew that Chris could be a sweetheart, but I also knew when he was holding something back from me, so I called him on it. "What is it, Sam?"

"What's what?"

I gave him that no-nonsense, I'm not in the mood look. "Christopher Lorenzo, I know you better than anyone else in the world, which means I know when you're hiding something from me," I said plainly, thinking to myself that he'd never really held anything back from me before Jillian came along. "So are you gonna tell me, or should we keep playing the nothing's wrong game for a while longer?"

"Ouch, Sam! No pulling punches tonight," he teased.

"Not when I know you're keeping something important form me."

"All right, ya got me. I've been looking for a good way to say this, and I guess there really isn't one."

"Sounds more serious than I thought." I was suddenly beginning to regret asking Chris to spill his guts.

He looked down at his hands, avoiding my gaze and confirming my suspicions. Without looking up, he just spit it out in one breath. "Jillian was offered the chief of surgery position at Boston General. She accepted, and I'm moving there with her."

It was suddenly as if I'd been in this lifelong race, always in the lead, but then his words just knocked the air right out of me. I couldn't breathe, and I dropped to last place in an instant. And then it hit me… the source of all my hostility toward Jillian… I wasn't the most important person in Chris's life anymore… I was no longer his first priority…I was no longer his first place.

Chris didn't say anything, obviously awaiting my reaction. It was slow in coming, as I was in complete shock. "Boston?" I questioned weakly.

"It's a great offer. Jillian's really excited about it."

"What about you?"

"I'm happy for her." We both knew that wasn't what I was asking. I needed to know if this was what he really wanted.

"Do you love her, Sam?"

"Yeah, of course I do." A blow straight to my heart. But though it may have been true, I doubted the depth of that love.

"Enough to give up your life here? To move to another city, another state and start over?"

"I've gotta give it a try, Rita. I'm not getting any younger here. What if she's the one? I can't let her leave if there's a chance she's the woman I'm supposed to spend the rest of my life with."

"And what if she's not?" I realized how harsh and unfeeling I must have been sounding and tried to calm myself down but couldn't. "Look, I'm not trying to be mean here, but I have to look out for my best friend. What if you uproot your life and move to Boston only to find she's not the one, and it was a mistake? Life's too short to make mistakes this big."

"But Sam, it's my mistake to make," he said softly.

"Not if I can stop it before it happens."


"Look, if you saw me about to walk into oncoming traffic, would you stop me?"

He looked at her dumbfounded. "Of course I would, but I don't see what that has to do with…" "Don't see or won't see?"

"Rita, what are you getting at here?"

"Jillian! She's you're oncoming traffic!" Chris was beginning to look annoyed and confused, so I had to think fast. And to this day, I don't know what came over me that night. I just opened my mouth, and the words came flying out. "I watch you with her, Sam, and I see the way she treats you. You deserve better than that." He shook his head, as if he were about to argue with me, but I started in again before he could. "You deserve someone that'll put your feelings above hers, Chris. Not someone that drags you off to parties you don't even want to go to. You deserve someone that will love you for who you are and not who she wants you to be. Someone you can talk to for hours about absolutely nothing. Someone whose heartbeat quickens and knees weaken when you enter a room. Someone who melts at the sight of your smile. Can you honestly say that Jillian is that person? That she'll be your happily ever after?"

Chris knew he was defeated and sighed heavily. "No, okay? Is that what you're going for? No, I can't say that for sure, but who else is there, Sam? Have you been hiding my soul mate in your closet all these years?" His voice dripped with sarcasm.


"No, Rita. I don't want to hear any more reasons why I shouldn't be with Jillian unless you have any suggestions for who I should be spending my life with because I've been searching for years and haven't come close. So, who is it that fits all your qualifications? Who's good enough for me?"

Now I could have easily let this opportunity pass like I'd done with so many others, but, whether it was the wine or something about this night, I couldn't seem to get a hold on my tongue and out came the words I'd been keeping from him for so long. No more secrets. No holds bar.

"Damnit Chris, me! I could do all those things. I could treat you like you deserve to be treated. I already do. Sam… I love you."

I could tell by the blank expression on Chris's face that I'd completely floored the poor guy. Way to go I told myself silently. Open mouth, insert foot.

We stood there staring into each other's eyes for the longest time. We'd always been able to read each other's thoughts, but that ability escaped me at the moment. His expression hadn't changed either. It seemed he preferred the completely shocked look he continued to sport.

"Look, I ah…" I didn't really know what to say, considering I'd said too much already.

"I take it we're not talking about that best friend, I'll give you my kidney type of love here, are we, Sam?" His gentle use of our mutual nickname warmed my heart.

"No." My response was shy, though there was no reason to be at this point. "More like the lover, I'll give you my heart kind," I added softly. I could have just stuck with a simple no, but the cat was already out of the bag as it was. What harm would a few more admissions be? Besides, I'd already put one foot in my mouth, why not shoot myself in the other one while I was at it.

"I don't know what to say, Rita. I'm shocked to say the least."

My heart fell, and I faltered upon words, trying to cover the hurt. "You don't have to do or say anything, Chris. I should have kept my mouth shut. I… I don't know what came over me." I turned, willing away the tears that threatened to fall. "I'm sorry."

"Don't you dare regret telling me this," the passion that was Chris had returned again at my proposed dismissal of the situation. "Do you have any idea how much heartache you could have spared us both by telling me this sooner?"

"Both?" I asked weakly, his words like a calming force that turned me to face him again.

"Of course, both." Chris rushed toward me like a bolt of lightening and took me in his arms, crushing me to his chest. "God Sam, you mean so much more to me than Jillian ever could. You always have. I was just so unsure of your feelings for me that I kept mine bottled up inside. I love you, Rita… I love you." He stepped back, taking my face in his hands and smiling that famous Lorenzo grin I'd fell head over heals in love with.

"Are we talking the give me a kidney or give me your heart kind?" I teased, smiling blissfully for the first time in months. His hands found their way to my back, drawing comforting circles there.

"Well my kidney's yours for the taking, but my heart's not up for grabs."

I almost gasped, my spirits falling quicker with each second of the ensuing silence.

"I don't understand," I choked out.

"You see, my heart hasn't belonged to me for quite some time now, so it's not mine to give."

His hands moved from their place at my back to cup my face in them once again.

"It's not?"

"Nope. If you want my heart, you'll have to take it up with my partner," he smiled.

"Your partner?" I asked, relieved he wasn't talking about Jillian and so glad the teasing tone in our conversation had returned. "Really? That's all, huh?"

"Yep, but don't kid yourself. She's one tough cookie. 5'2". Short, wavy, brown hair. Deep green eyes a guy could drown in. And a killer smile."

"Oh yeah? Killer, huh?"

"Ah-huh. That's what reigned me in."

"Well, I still think I could take her."

He grinned as his once idle hands began tracing their way across my face. First my eyes, then my nose, my cheeks, and finally my lips. He paused, unsure of what exactly to do next.

"Sam?" he questioned, a shyness seeping out of him that I'd never seen before in Christopher Lorenzo.


"Would it be okay if I kissed you right now?"

I smiled brightly at him, my heart melting at his asking permission. "I think it would be more than okay," I whispered slowly, savoring each touch of his fingertips to my lips as they moved back and forth.

And finally, finally, his mouth descended upon mine. The kiss was slow and gentle, each of us wanting to commit the moment to memory. His lips brushed back and forth across mine with such accurate precision that I could have sworn he'd had the kiss mapped out before hand. He strayed from my lips as he ran soft, caressing kisses from my forehead down to my neck and back again. I ran my hands through his hair and down the strong muscles of his back, coming to rest just below the waistband of his jeans. He sighed in contentment, pulling back and resting his head against mine.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Nothing. It just feels wrong to be doing this when I'm still with Jillian."

"Do you… do you want to stay with her?" I asked softly.

"No, no," he stopped my insecurity in its tracks. "It's not that. Believe me, Sam. I want to be with you more than I want to breathe." With this admission, I released the breath I didn't know I'd been holding.

"Then what is it?"

"I just don't feel right about being…. with you when I'm supposed to be moving to Boston with Jillian in less than a month. I have to break it off with her before this goes any further. Can you understand that?"

I smiled serenely at him, loving him more in that moment than I ever had. "You're a very honorable man, Christopher Lorenzo."

"Does that mean you understand?"

"Of course I do." I framed his face and gave him a chaste kiss before wiping my lipstick off of him. "Now, go break up with Jillian and get back here so I can make you my sex slave," I teased.

"Damn, Sammy! How can you make a statement like that and then expect me to leave?"

"Did you think that was a statement? Because it was really a command. And the faster you get moving, the faster you'll get back here." My goodness, when had I become so bold?

"Ooh, so demanding… I love it. I'll be back in two hours tops." He leaned down for another quick kiss and then was on his way out the door.


I knew something was wrong when four hours later I was reduced to pacing the floors of my apartment. After three hours, I'd beeped Chris and gotten no response. Insecurities for the most part behind me, I refused to believe that Jillian had convinced him to stay with her. He'd told me he loved me… that he'd been in love with me for quite a while now… and I was not about to doubt the man I trusted more than anyone in the world.

My ringing cell phone startled me and put a halt to my pacing. That was a good thing, seeing as how I'd already worn the carpet down significantly in my path.

I walked over and grabbed my cell phone, half hoping I wasn't being called to homicide because of the plans Chris and I had for the evening and half hoping I was. That would mean Chris would be there too and I wouldn't have to worry about him being missing any longer. Upon answering, I discovered it was most definitely not a homicide. It was one of the most horrifying phone calls of my life.

"Sgt. Rita Lance?" the person on the other end of the line asked.

"Speaking. Who's this?"

"This is a nurse at Palm Beach Memorial. I found your business card in the wallet of a…" she took a moment to search the charts for a name I guessed, hearing the shuffle of papers in the background, as I was left nervously dreading the worst on the other end. "A Chris Lorenzo. Are you a relative, Miss Lance?"

I gasped in horror, less relieved now that I knew where Chris was than when I didn't. "I'm his partner and best friend. What happened? Where is he?" I asked frantically.

"He was in a car accident. As for his condition, he's in emergency right now. I'm not sure of the details. I was only asked to look through his things and call his family."

"Okay, I'll be right there."

I hung up in a daze, grabbing my purse and car keys, in my rush out the door.


The relief I felt when I walked up to the nurses' station and was informed that Chris was in a private room for observation, and not in ICU as I had feared, was tremendous. I walked to his room more at ease than I'd been since he'd left my apartment, nearly four and a half hours earlier.

The last thing I needed when I entered Chris's room was to see Jillian Dupree at his side, but of course that's what I found. She had apparently been on duty that night and had seen Chris come in through emergency. I stood watching as she fussed over his pillows and blankets while unexpected jealousy welled up inside me.

"Hey Sam, you okay?" I asked softly, suddenly feeling like an intruder. The light that went into Chris's eyes when he saw me boosted my confidence and melted my heart.

"It seems I was daydreaming while driving," he smiled at me, letting me know exactly what he was dreaming about. "I wasn't watching where I was going, and then bam, a car slams right into the side of me."

"It also didn't hurt that you ran a red light," Jillian added. Chris grinned.

I came closer to the bed, going to the side opposite Jillian, trying for all intents and purposes to simply ignore her presence. "All right. Let me see the damage, Christopher," I requested, as I placed my purse down on the small half dresser next to his bed.

"It's only a few scrapes and bruises," he defended himself, while I inspected the new scratches on his face.

"Then you're lucky," I told him, thanking God, myself, for his luck.

"You don't want to show her all your scars, Chris," Jillian spoke in her I have something that you don't voice. "They're not all in plain sight," she grinned. Her words were obviously directed toward me, as if she were staking her claim. I felt like screaming too late, honey, he's taken but, amazingly, I restrained myself.

"The doctors say I can go home in a few hours. They just wanted me to rest and keep me hooked up to the monitors to make sure I didn't whack my head harder than they thought," Chris changed the subject.

"You've got a pretty hard head there, Sam. I don't think even a car accident could do it damage," I teased.

"That's what I said, but the doctors still want to keep me around for a few hours."

"I wish they would keep you overnight," Jillian said. "I don't get off until nine in the morning, and I'd like to take you home and get you settled. I guess I'll have to find someone to cover my shift."

Chris looked frustrated at her comment, and I thought maybe he wanted to argue it out with Jillian alone, so I told him I'd call him tomorrow to check up on him and made for the door. But before I could get it open, he stopped me.

"Rita, wait. If you don't mind I'd like for you to drive me home. Jillian has to work and despite her offerings to get someone to cover for her, I'd rather you just drive me. Is that okay with you?"

"Sure, Sam. Whatever you want." I put my purse back on the bedside table and sat in the chair by Chris's side.

"Chris, it wouldn't be a problem for me to find someone to cover for me. Really I want…"

He cut her off. "No, don't worry about it. Rita can manage. I'll give you a call tomorrow."

"Are you sure?" she pleaded.

"Yes, and you should get back to work."

"Okay. I guess I'll talk to you tomorrow then."

She leaned down and made a point to be sure I was watching as she placed a kiss upon Chris's lips. I was glad she only suspected Chris had feelings for me and didn't outright know. I don't think the kiss would have been as chaste had she known what had transpired between us earlier that night.

She finally left and I jumped out of the chair, taking my place at Chris's bedside. I ran my hands through his hair and searched over his wounds once more, making sure for myself that he was going to be okay.

"I'm sorry about that, Sam. I guess you could see that I didn't get a chance to tell her yet, huh?"

"Yeah," I smiled, running my hand lightly over one of the scrapes on his face. "It's okay. I'm just so glad that you're all right."

Whether it be to wipe away any traces of Jillian or to reassure myself that Chris was perfectly fine, I couldn't resist the temptation to lean down and place soft kisses across his lips and forehead.

"Do you have any idea how much you scared me? First, I didn't know where you were, and then when the hospital called looking for your relatives I almost had a heart attack. I couldn't help picturing all the horrible things that could have happened to you on the drive over here."

"I'm sorry. I was just so distracted by thoughts of this beautiful brunette that my attention was diverted from the road," he grinned like the Cheshire cat.

"So I've heard." I shook my head disapprovingly at him. "You could have gotten yourself killed, you know?"

"True. But at least you're here tending to the patient and not identifying the body." Chris and his morbid sense of humor.

"Christopher Lorenzo that's not funny."

"Okay, I'm sorry. Forgive me?" he grinned.

"Maybe later," I teased, leaning in for another kiss. This was one part of our new relationship that I could definitely get used to.

The doctor walked in, his head down looking over Chris's chart, and we both jumped thinking Jillian was back.

"Hello, Mr. Lorenzo. How are you feeling?" The doctor asked, putting the chart down on the bed.

"Much better," Chris answered. I knew his head was still hurting, but he just wanted to get out of the hospital, and I couldn't blame him. We'd spent many nights sitting vigil at each other's bedside in this place. Altogether, there weren't any pleasant memories.

"How's the head?" the doctor asked.

"Not as bad as it was before," he answered, hoping that would suffice. The doctor pulled the top half of his hospital gown down so he could check Chris's breathing, and it was then that I finally saw all the scratches and scrapes he'd received from the accident. There was nothing too deep, but they all looked pretty painful. The doctor pulled the gown back up and took a look at Chris's vitals on the beeping machines surrounding the bed.

"Your vitals look good, Mr. Lorenzo. I'm gonna sign your release papers, but only if you promise me you have someone to take you home and stay with you for a while? I'd rather you not having to get up to get a drink or answer the phone. The more rest, the better."

"I'll stay with him, doctor," I spoke up.

"Good. I'll give your release papers to the nurses at the desk, and they'll send someone in with a wheel chair to take you to the car." The doctor left, and Chris got out of bed, heading to the bathroom with his clothes to change.

"You interested in helping me get dressed?" he asked in a hopeful voice from the doorway to the other room.

"If you really needed help, I would, but we both know you don't," I smiled.

"Ah, why'd ya have to go and ruin my fun?"

"Just go get dressed, buddy." I could see I was in for a long night.


I drove Chris back to my apartment, which Chris didn't seem to mind. I wasn't interested in having Jillian call every hour on the hour, so I was glad he didn't ask for an explanation. I got Chris settled in his sweat pants in my bed, gave him his pain medication and some water, and found a movie for us to watch on TV.

"I'm gonna go change into something more comfortable, Sam. I'll be right back," I said, grabbing a long T-shirt and pair of pajama shorts from my dresser.

"Would you consider changing into nothing at all?" His eyebrows moved up and down, contemplating all the possibilities that could lead to.

"Not a chance, Chris. You need your rest."

"Okay, okay. I had to at least ask." He gave up.

"You just watch the movie, and I'll be back in a minute."

I went into the bathroom to change clothes and decided to take a quick shower as well. I was in and out in five minutes, but that appeared to be enough time for Chris because when I walked back into the bedroom, he was sound as asleep. I smiled at his boyishly handsome form as I crawled into bed next to him and found a comfortable position with my head on his chest. Without waking, he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me closer, and that's how I fell asleep a few moments later.


For the sake of our privacy, I won't go into details of the next morning, but it's amazing how one wonderful night… and the morning after that night… can change your whole perspective on weekends.

That was almost seven years ago. Now, I wake up in the arms of the man I love every morning, but a few things have changed. I'm a happily married woman of six years and the mother of two beautiful girls, the younger of which usually wakes up in bed between us. And Chris and I are no longer partnered as detectives in the Palm Beach Homicide Division… we're the co-captains. Oh, and I definitely couldn't leave out the baby we have on the way. I'd say we're pretty happy.

Yes, that was then, and this is now. And now, I love weekends…


You Give Me Love
By Faith Hill

You turn around
And then you ask me behind tears of doubt
Just what do I see in you
Please don't cry
I know sometimes it seems we barely get by
But you don't see how much you do
Oh, to get me through

When the world is cold
And I need a friend to hold
You give me love… you give me love
And when my hope is gone
And I feel I can't go on
You pick me up
You give me love… you give me love

I apologize
If I never told you what you are in my eyes
Oh baby, let me tell you now
Every day
Looks sweeter knowing you'll be there in every way
Now how can you say that that's not enough

'Cause when the world is cold
And I need a friend to hold
You give me love… you give me love
And when my hope is gone
And it feels I can't go on
You pick me up
You give me love… you give me love

Everything my heart desires
Morning sun and midnight fires
Someone there to share my dreams
With you I have everything

When the world is cold
And I need a friend to hold
You give me love… you give me love
And when my hope is gone
And I feel I can't go on
You pick me up
You give me love

Yeah, When my world is cold
And I need a friend to hold me
You give me love… you give me love
And when my hope is gone
And I feel I can't go on
You pick me up
You give me love…


This story was the product of many things. One would be the boredom of the other stories I had in the works… who knows when I'll finish or even go back to those? Two, this story was written, or rather began, while my computer was on the fritz. I just got an idea and ran with it. And three is the lack of stories being written. I got tired of rereading others and thought everyone might like a new bone to pick at.

Anyway, this story was a little difficult for me to write. The idea came easily, but because I wrote it in first person from Rita's point of view, it was a little difficult to jump gears when switching from part to part in the story. I also couldn't have any scenes in which Chris revealed his thoughts or scenes without Rita because she told the story. Any feedback on the technicalities of the story and most definitely the story itself can be sent to me at lancelorenzo@hotmail.com. I live for feedback!!

The song at the end stuck in my mind throughout the writing of this story, so I tacked it on to the end for everyone else to read the lyrics. It's by Faith Hill and can be found on her album, Faith.

And a special thanks to Lisa for giving her opinion and suggestions before posting. You're the best!

Like always, Silk Stalkings, Chris, Rita, Jillian, etc… are not mine. They are the property of USA Network, Stu Segall, and Stephen J. Cannell. I don't own 'em. We all wish we did.


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