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I literally have the boy waiting for me out in the driveway right now as he finished packing the car, so this is going to be quick! The update, however, isn't--at over sixty pages in my Word document, I'd advise anyone who wants to read to get comfortable. Hee!

Also, I beg forgivenness now for any typos or errors. I'll fix them when I get back!

You guys are all so lovely, and you have no idea how special it is for me to see some of you post here for the first time! I appreciate the kind words so much.

Hope you enjoy!

Love,
Juliet

Lifting two more books from the box, Joey eased them onto the shelf, making sure the hardcover bindings were aligned. She'd probably gone through thousands of cheap, worn and floppy-eared paperbacks in her lifetime, too many to count, and had no idea where most of them even ended up. But these were the ones she carried with her always, some even from childhood. The words that inspired, ideas that challenged or emotions that moved her--those were the ones that found a special place in her heart.

She lined the shelf three quarters of the way in a neat row, balancing it off with picture of Meg in silver oval frame, her blue eyes bright under the floppy brim of a pink floral sunhat. She was currently out in the kitchen with Auntie Bessie, in her highchair, creating some love and inspiration of her own with a bowl of fresh berries.

"Jo, what do you think?" Pacey asked, taking a few steps backwards, eyes trained on the wall. "Is that where you wanted it?"

She stood, smoothing her hands down her jeans before she came over to stop in front of him. With a narrowed gaze, she checked the placement of the painting, a washed lavender blue watercolor of the Capeside Harbor at twilight with a cream colored mat and frame that she picked up at a shop downtown.

"Yeah, that looks good. Thanks. I bought another print by that same artist that I wanted to put up in the bedroom, but it's still being framed at the shop." She smiled to think of the impressionistic beach scene, blue water reflecting light, dunes dotted in summer flowers and at the shore, the little toddler with chubby bowed legs, wearing a pink sunhat with pail in hand. Before, it might have not been exactly her taste--but now it was much too hard to resist

"So, then…what's next on the list?" He tossed the hammer down into the tool box, where it landed with a clatter.

"I need help figuring out where to put the curtain rods on these front windows," she offered.

"Well, normally I don't do windows..." Pacey joked. "But, for you? I'll make an exception."

She smiled and nodded her head. "Just let me finish unpacking this last box over here..."

Joey had only just slid the last hardcover into place when she sensed the warmth of his body behind her in pleasurably close proximity.

Long strands of her hair spilled over her shoulder as he brushed them back with a gentle sweep of his hand, away from her face, and then Pacey ducked his head, so his lips nearly brushed her ear when he spoke.

"You know something, Potter? Only you would have the bookshelves filled before there's even a TV in the house," he chuckled softly, and she tried not to shiver as his warm breath tingled down her spine.

She turned slightly to face him, meeting his eyes on a slow smile. Suddenly, past his shoulder, she noticed Alexander walk out from the kitchen and her eyebrows shot up, signaling a silent warning. Without a word, she dropped her head and slid away to the left, creating more distance, while he spun away to the right, returning to his toolbox.

"My mom needs you to remind her again which drawer out there is for utensils," Alexander sighed, obviously well on his way to boredom.

"Um, the really wide one, with the blue ceramic knob…I think I put the coffeemaker on the countertop above it," Joey explained, slightly breathless from the light hammering of her heart beat.

Alexander only nodded his head before turning to drag his feet back to the kitchen.

Joey glanced over at Pacey, and he met her eyes with a faint grin.

It had been like this all weekend, constantly being interrupted by family, movers and deliverymen. And, while Joey was appreciative they had so much help, with either Doug or Jack, Amy or her nephew, her sister or Bodie somewhere else in the house at all times, it had been difficult for them to find even a minute alone.

They made the best of whatever little moments came their way, however. In passing, their hands might brush, fingers curving together in a gentle squeeze and release. When Pacey had to lean past her when unpacking boxes, he'd briefly rest his hands on her waist, and she would find reasons to let her fingers drift down his muscled arm or the strong slope of his back. The temptation was to linger, to touch and be touched even more, but then someone would walk in and they'd both jump away as if caught.

And when they couldn't touch, it would be the looks. Each exchange seemed to say the same thing, acknowledging happiness, excitement, a bit of leftover longing and maybe even disbelief--as if they weren't quite sure this was real. Now, after all this time and after everything that happened, were they really going to try again? They both seemed to look for the answer in each other, but so far all the only thing either one could come up with was a smile.

It almost made Joey feel decadent in a way, uncharacteristically giddy, like they were two kids in a candy store or lottery winners who couldn't quite believe their good fortune. She was content for now with small portions, brief moments and stolen kisses. It was much too good to rush or take for granted.

"Um…you said something about a curtain rod?" Pacey said, chuckling a little as he scratched his head.

"Oh. Right."

Taking a deep breath to return to work, Joey moved over to the set of front windows. Luckily, all the ones downstairs at the back of the house looked out onto the privacy of the yard, so Joey was happy to leave them bare and let the sun pour into the kitchen. But here, they faced the street. Granted, they didn't see much traffic, but Bessie insisted she needed window treatments.

"I got this pewter curtain rod, because I liked the decorative hardware that came with it," she explained, reaching for the long narrow cardboard box propped up against the wall. "But I'm not really sure where it should go."

"I'm just gonna throw this out there…" Pacey sighed, moving over to join her as he stroked his chin in a pensive pose. "And I may be wildly off base, but I think you place it somewhere…right in the vicinity of this general area here." With wave of his hands, he motioned towards the windows.

Joey gave him a heavy-eyed look. "Gee…thanks," she drawled in muted sarcasm. "But my question is actually where on the window it should go. Like, I don't know if I should put it all the way at the top, with a drapery panel, valance or swag…or if maybe I should just go at the halfway point like, um, tiered or café style. You know what I mean?"

"Seeing as how I'm a heterosexual male in my late twenties? No. I have absolutely no idea what you mean."

"Oh, you're a lot of help," she muttered with a shake of her head, but her smile curved.

"Hey, you want an interior designer? Call my brother Doug. Me? I'm more of your fix-it guy or handyman."

Playing along, she nodded her head in amusement as she leaned the box back against the wall. "So I should call you if I need something fixed? Because I think there's an old furnace back at the B&B that might have something to say about that."

Pacey gave her a faint smirk, but then he moved in closer, so close he had to tilt his head down to meet her eyes. In the blue, she caught a flash of unexpected heat.

"Or you could just call me if you needed a hand…anywhere."

Joey felt the instant flush warm her cheeks, just the deep timbre of his voice invoking a physical reaction of desire. The thrill of anticipation trembled through her body as he leaned down, and she tilted her head back, waiting on the kiss.

Suddenly, Doug walked right in the front door behind them, carrying a large box in his arms. Joey was so startled she froze.

"So, as I was saying…" Clearing his throat as he took a giant step backwards, Pacey spoke up loudly, releasing her to motion towards the windows. "You should really think about parking your new car in the garage. There's plenty of room for it, and you get a good storm off the coast, its picking up salt spray with the rain. You don't want to get rust."

"Yes." Nodding her head in polite response, Joey quickly tucked her hair behind her ear. "That's a good idea. Maybe I will."

Doug glanced between them and seemed almost wearily amused, perhaps aware of the fact he was audience to an impromptu stage performance.

"Joey…this one is just marked 'bedroom'. Is that you or the baby?"

"Mine." She forced her embarrassment into the grimace of a smile, her cheeks still warm. "Thanks, Doug."

Folding her arms across her chest, she dragged her teeth over her bottom lip as her dark eyes followed him up the stairs. Only when he was out of sight did she allow herself to glance at Pacey again, and they both relaxed into faintly sheepish laughs.

Perhaps it was silly to even try, but they wanted to keep this all to themselves for now, maintaining as much privacy as possible while it was still so tender and new. After all, they hadn't even officially gone out on a date yet. All they really had the chance to do so far was kiss, and even that was only a few times--hardly enough to warrant the release of some public announcement. Yet not nearly enough to stop them from wanting to kiss again…and again…like right now.

They started inching their way back towards each other, caught in the gravitational pull, just as Doug came trudging back downstairs.

"Okay…well, I think that's most of it," he said. "Unless you have anything else here you need help with this afternoon, I think I'm going to head out. Amy and I were going to try to make one of Jack's soccer games."

"No, I think we're good," Joey replied, lifting her arms to let them drop, trying to contain her frustration. "But thanks again for all your help, Doug."

"Yeah, thanks," Pacey was quick to echo as he swiped a hand down his face, a gesture of impatience only Joey noticed.

"No problem." Doug shrugged a shoulder. "I'm off next weekend, too, so I can come by anytime if you still need help settling in."

Pacey placed a hand on his shoulder as if in gratitude, but it was really just to help usher him towards the open door. "Thanks. We'll let you know."

"Bye, Doug!" Joey called out.

He called his goodbye back over his shoulder and then they waited, pretending to be busy with other things as he got into his car and pulled away down the street.

Joey pursed her lips, feeling a twinge selfish guilt. "He probably thought we were just rushing him out of here…"

"Really?" Pacey furrowed his brow before immediately reaching for her. "Well, then he was absolutely right, because I was rushing him out of here."

She laughed lightly in protest. "Pace…"

"What?" Large hands curving possessively around her waist, his thumbs gently brushed her stomach as he smiled down.

Joey rested her hands on his arms, acknowledging how good it felt to be in them again. "It's not nice to be ungrateful," she said.

"I'm grateful!" he insisted, then eased her body in closer to his, bowing his head. "I'm grateful he's finally gone." The kiss was warm and deep as he brought his hands up to frame her face, his tongue pushing past her parted lips to tangle with her tongue, and his soft groan of pleasure rumbled through her. "I'm extremely grateful for these beautiful lips…" he continued in a murmur before dragging his mouth down the curve of her throat. "And for this place on your neck, and the sound you make when I--"

She cried out in a breathy gasp when he found that highly sensitive pulse point, teasing it in a slow, soft suck. Pulling back, Pacey met her eyes with a satisfied grin, his blues eyes shining warmly with both affection and amusement.

"But…" he sighed reluctantly, reaching up to play with a strand of her hair, "what I'm not grateful for is the fact I have to get back to work right now." His smile softened along with his voice, his gaze drifting over her face. "So are we still on for Friday night?"

"Mm-hmm." She nodded her head, unwilling to admit her legs were a little wobbly, the sensation of his mouth on her neck still trembling through her.

He arched one eyebrow, crouching slightly at his knees so they were at eye level. "Not planning on standing me up?"

"Not at present, no," she replied with a brighter smile.

"Good," he grinned, playfully narrowing his gaze before he stole one last quick kiss; then headed for the door, "because I know where you live."

Watching through the front windows as his truck backed out of the driveway a moment later, Joey drew in a shaky breath on her smile, standing there alone in the middle of that big empty room. Pressing her hand flat to her abdomen, she felt a familiar nervous clutching sensation in her stomach.

It seemed, at times, like some improbable fairy tale come true. How could she have made such mistakes, done things so wrong and hurt so many people…and yet now end up with this kind of perfect happiness? A beautiful healthy baby girl, a house that already felt more like home than any she had ever known, and the man she loved--all of them seemingly, amazingly, unbelievably, miraculously hers? The convergence of all these good things in her life only made it all the more difficult for her to put her whole faith and trust in any of it.

Was it too good to be true? Or was she only setting herself up, once again, for disappointment and heartache of the worst kind?

A small part of her still feared Pacey might only be doing this out of a sense of obligation, because he believed they should be together simply for Meg's sake. Another part of her feared that maybe they shouldn't be together for Meg's sake. She feared it was too soon after his divorce. She feared it was too late for them.

But mostly, she just feared.

Still gazing out the front windows, Joey noticed Bessie walking out on the front lawn with Meg, holding the baby on her hip as she pointed things out for her around the yard. She smiled to see her excitement in spotting a huge blue dragonfly wing by, then watching Bessie with such fascination as she leaned in close to smell some fragrant wild blossom. Meg tried to mimic the action herself, shoving her tiny button nose right into the petals and pulling back with a look of adorable confusion.

The tight clenching sensation in Joey's stomach gradually abated as she watched her, soothed by the warmth that spread down from her chest as her heart melted on the spot.

She once read somewhere that the opposite of love isn't hate as one might expect. It's actually fear. She wasn't sure if it made sense to her at the time, but now, as a mother, she thought she could better understand. While typically scared of her own shadow, Joey knew on instinct she wouldn't even hesitate to protect her daughter from any and all danger, probably with complete disregard for her own safety. That still didn't make her brave, however (as evidenced from her reaction to the spider she encountered just that morning while cleaning the upstairs bathroom). It was simply an indication of how much and how fiercely she loved. In the presence of that love, there could be no fear.

So why, in the presence of Pacey, was there always so damn much?

Fingers tapping away at her computer keyboard, Joey paused only long enough to steal a quick glance at the latest edits to the manuscript on her desk. She caught the murmur of voices just outside her office door in the hallway. And then, a familiar laugh.

"Don't forget…" Seth spoke up to be heard. "Cocktails after work tonight. We're meeting at the Commonwealth Pub. Attendance is mandatory."

Hands hovering, she glanced up just in time to catch him walking by her door. He was still wearing the remnants of a smile, but that faded as soon as he glanced in and their eyes met. Without a word, he dropped his head, silently continuing on his way. Not only did he skip her invitation, he didn't even bother with an acknowledgement.

Sighing, she shook her head with a faint smirk and got back to work. The abrupt change in his attitude towards her was apparent--and exactly what she had been trying to avoid. Obviously he didn't get what he wanted and now, as petty and childish as it seemed, he couldn't even be her friend. Joey knew, however, that she had been honest with him and never felt like she did anything to lead him on, so she wasn't feeling much in the way of regret.

Inevitably, however, it made her think of Pacey, and the difference in the kind of man he was, and always had been.

It didn't take much to turn her thoughts to him these days, however.

After finishing up the last of her edits, she decided this was going to be a two-coffee kind of morning. Needing a quick breath of fresh air, she slung her bag over her shoulder and took a walk outside, finding the coffee cart out on the campus courtyard.

In rummaging through for loose change to pay the vendor, she came across the stack of mail wrapped in a rubber band that Bessie dropped off the day before. Reminding herself to get that change of address form to the post office, Joey took a seat on a nearby bench to quickly sort through it--a credit card bill, two offers for pre-approved credit cards, yet another bill, and more of the same.

One, however, stopped her short. The envelope was plain white, standard sized, and she was only vaguely aware of a return post office box. It was addressed to her attention but that wasn't what made her stomach experience a small, nervous lurch, like hitting a bump. It was the fact that the address had been X-ed out several times in dark black ink and, messily--perhaps angrily--the address of the B&B had been scrawled in, the letter resent.

And it was clearly Dawson's handwriting.

Carefully, with some wary unease, Joey tore it open at the loose flap. She peered inside. At first glance, it appeared to be a prenatal bill from the woman's clinic she visited out in Los Angeles, one that must have somehow slipped through the cracks between her different moves. Then she noticed it was seriously overdue.

While she was almost fanatical about paying her bills, and almost positive she had cleared all her accounts before leaving, Joey was still a little relieved to see that's all was. Suddenly, she paused on another frown. Hadn't she asked that all appointment reminders and correspondence be sent, marked confidential, to her work address at the time? She was sure she had--just as she was sure she had only allowed them her cell phone number. How did he even end up with it?

Not wanting to have to revisit that sad and horrible time in her life, when she lived each day hiding her secret, sick with guilt and fear, Joey chose to just forget about it. She shoved the letter back down in her bag, stuffing those bad memories away with it. Right now she had to prepare for a meeting after lunch, and then she would be free to go for the day.

And the timing couldn't be better, since it was Friday and tonight was her date with Pacey.

When the train chugged into the Capeside station a few hours later, it was just reaching late afternoon, the time she loved most in summer, when the sun hung low in the sky, warming the ocean in its glittering, golden light. Walking to her car, parked under the shade of a leafy elm in the small parking lot, Joey was surprised to see faded rain clouds breaking apart to drift out to sea, the peeks of bright blue sky reflected in puddles on the pavement. She obviously missed a brief and passing thundershower--another thing she loved about summer.

She was smiling when she pulled into the driveway, humming along to the radio, enjoying the short but scenic ride from the station to the house. Pulling up to Bessie's bumper, she hopped out, swinging her leather bag as she walked up to the front door. She had plenty of time to change and get ready before Pacey came to pick her up.

And he was the thing about summer she loved most of all.

They had tickets to a sunset concert at the new waterfront park pavilion in Falmouth and he planned to pack a basket of appetizers and wine from the Icehouse. That would be followed by a late dinner somewhere nice. Joey already spent an extra forty five minutes in the bathroom that morning. Her conditioned hair shone, her face glowed, and her legs were smooth and bare.

Outside, she looked fine. Yet inside, secretly, she was a bit of a nervous wreck. She waited too long, however, for this to ever turn back now.

"Pacey just called to say he's going to be running late," Bessie informed her when she walked into the kitchen to find her there with Meg in her arms. "I guess things are kind of crazy down at the Icehouse."

"Oh." Her disappointment was brief. It seemed the wait wasn't quite over yet. "Well, I still have to change and get ready anyway." She moved to stroke her hand over the back of Meg's head, giving her a kiss. "Are you all set with her?"

"Yeah, we just got back from a walk," Bessie said. "I was being nosy and checking out all your new neighbors, and it turns out a friend of mine from high school only lives a couple of houses down. And now I was going to make her those baby peas and pasta for dinner."

"Well, there's a whole container of grilled chicken and pasta in the fridge for you, as well. Pacey brought it over last night." Joey placed her leather bag down on a kitchen chair. "And you saw I rented you some DVDs for later, right?"

"Yes, but don't you worry about me," Bessie smiled. "I play on enjoying my evening all to myself with my niece. You just concentrate on having your own good time."

Joey only shot her a look, silently ignoring the inflection in her sister's tone, and hurried upstairs to change before she had a chance to try to embarrass her further. She wasn't sure she could withstand too much teasing right now.

Stepping into her bedroom, she felt some of her tension ease, washed away by the soothing blue view of ocean as far as the eye could see. She smiled as she sank down to sit on the comfy quilt, leaning back on the pile of throw pillows in patterned fabrics of pale blue and green, prying off one heel and then the other. Her new bedroom set had arrived in a warm, light pinewood--a charge she probably couldn't afford on her credit card but still couldn't resist--and all her things were in place. In the windows, sea glass ornaments caught and twirled in the light. This truly had become her favorite room in the house, and she loved to linger here. But tonight she was in too much of a rush.

Moving to her closet, she pulled out a couple of summery dresses to toss them across the bed before walking over to her armoire. She then bowed her head over the contents of her lingerie drawer, but got stuck there--somewhere between the safety and breathable comfort of cotton and the sleek heart-racing danger of silk and satin.

Was it naïve of her to not immediately assume Pacey would be expecting sex tonight?

They were adults, after all--adults with a child, no less. They both had sex before. Both had been through serious relationships before. They had been through a serious relationship and had sex with each other before. They had lots of sex with each other. In fact, Pacey was her complete introduction to sex in the first place, and probably a large part of the reason she came to enjoy it as much as she did.

So, it wasn't like it wouldn't be good. More than likely it would be amazing, incredible, mind-blowing and about fifty other adjectives combined.

So why did the very thought of it fill her with nervous dread?

Joey moved away from the lingerie drawer, opening her closet door wide to reveal the full length mirror mounted there. Her blouse unbuttoned, her skirt unzipped, she studied her reflection a long moment.

Would her body feel different to him now that she'd had a baby? And would he be turned off in any way by the changes he found? Concern furrowed in her forehead, her worries setting her lips in a thin line.

Since Meg, Joey felt she'd lost whatever tiny amount of sexual skill or self-confidence she might have acquired up to this point in her life, completely out of practice in the art of seduction. It was more difficult than ever for her now to feel like a sensual, sexual being or to view herself in that way. And, here, only two years away from thirty, Joey had a feeling it wasn't quite as sweet or endearing as it might have been was she was only an innocent teen.

She knew Pacey wanted a woman, not a scared little girl.

Yet she passed a whole human being through her vagina--and he was witness to the event. So much for that former place of her 'intimacy and feminine mystery'. And breastfeeding had pretty much sucked any spark of sexual energy right out of her. Overall, she felt out of touch with her own body, the changes both inside and out creating this uncomfortable unfamiliarity. Could someone like him really be aroused or satisfied with her anymore, considering what he had before? Pacey might still hold onto some of his own lingering insecurities, but what she knew without a doubt was that he never had any when it came to sex.

There were times when she was younger--between all the animosity, joking insults and biting sarcasm that marked their relationship--when she liked to maybe pretend Pacey was a bit of a danger, with a darker edge to Dawson's plain vanilla, almost to warn herself off him. That wasn't actually too difficult to do when, at fifteen, he managed to seduce their high school English teacher, a woman twice his age with the kind of maturity, sultry beauty and sexual confidence that left Joey feeling mystified and wholly inadequate.

So he flunked a few purity tests and may have once cultivated a 'bad boy' reputation. In truth, Pacey was decent and kind and good--all the way down to the deep ocean bottom of his heart. And his passion for her always came with an infinite tenderness. Yes, he gave her pleasure--he always gave it his all. But more than that, he gave her all of himself. He was more solid and dependable in the ways he loved than any other man she'd ever known. Yet that made him even scarier, in a way.

Pacey was the real thing, no imitations, and there would be no turning back for her if she gave herself to him completely tonight. If Joey didn't feel she was ready yet to take off all her clothes in front of him, she feared she was even less ready to completely open her heart, leaving it that exposed and vulnerable.

Blowing out a heavy sigh, she sank back to sit on the bed. She knew she shouldn't be doing this right now--over-thinking everything and twisting it around until her insides were wrapped up in knots. She could sit here in drowning in self-analysis all evening, questioning everything, but where would that get her? Certainly no closer to any good answers.

She glanced over at the picture of Meg in a frame on her bedside table. It was a photo of her sleeping so peacefully as a newborn, so tiny and fragile, cradled protectively in Joey's arms, and it made her think again about the ideas of love and fear. Almost every decision in her life up to this point could probably be traced back to one of those two motivations. And far too often, she chose the latter.

For a long time--too long--Joey allowed her fears and doubts to become her only truths. She let the doubts define who she was, and she let the fears keep her from what she wanted. But she didn't want to live her life like that anymore--if not for herself, than for the fact she was determined to raise a daughter who was strong and happy and sure of who she was, secure in unconditional love. And didn't she need to set that example?

Perhaps the risk of putting her heart out there was in being hurt, but hadn't her heart ached with loneliness and loss for so long now? What would really be the difference? What was really left to fear, when she had already lived with the pain?

The doubts were a little more complicated, however. Where Joey once had to allow herself time to be sure, now it felt like she needed to give him more time.

She knew what she really wanted. But did Pacey? After all, was it really that long ago when he was trying to salvage his marriage to Andie, still distraught with grief and guilt over the fact they slept together? And what of his hurt and bitterness over the secrets she kept?

How did he get past all of that to end up here? How did they? Or was the past, once again, just waiting to catch up with them, always getting in the way of their future.

"Joey?" Bessie's voice drifted up from downstairs. "It's Pacey."

Mild startled, Joey hopped up from the bed. She still hadn't put a phone upstairs, so she didn't even hear it ring. Bessie was waiting at the bottom of the staircase with the cordless in hand. Taking it from her to bring it to her ear, Joey realized she was a little breathless with anticipation.

"Hey."

"Jo…hey. You're home."

"Yeah, just walked in." She had to assume this meant he was on his way. "But I should be ready to go in just a few minutes."

He sighed heavily. "I wish I could say the same."

"Why?" Joey frowned. "What's going on?"

"Eh, I seemed to have overlooked the fact we have the Harbor Arts Festival going on this weekend," he explained. "We got an early rush that I wasn't really expecting--nor was I really prepared for. But it's almost five-thirty now. The concert is from six to eight, so if I can get out of here in the next half hour, we can still make most of it."

"All right…" she agreed, though started to worry her bottom lip between her teeth. "Well, I'll be here. Just come by whenever."

Even though Joey claimed that casual 'whenever', she anxiously glanced at the clock. Thirty more minutes to sit here, working through those doubts and fears. Just what she needed.

It was over forty-five minutes, however, before Pacey called again. This time it was to say that they might not make the concert after all, but could still possibly make their dinner reservations. So she had even more time to think…and worry….and think some more.

"I can't do this."

Bessie glanced up from where she was successfully coaxing Meg to sleep with a bottle, her eyes drifting over the dress Joey wore. "What do you mean?" she frowned. "That looks pretty on you."

"No, I mean I can't do this…with Pacey."

The corner of Bessie's mouth curved sharply into a skeptical smirk. "You suddenly can't go out to dinner with him?" She arched an eyebrow. "Why not?"

Joey shook her head, lips pursed tight, mortified to realize she'd actually worked herself up to the point of tears.

"It's too risky. It took us so long to get here, to even get a real friendship back…we might ruin everything."

"You want my honest opinion right now, Joey?" Bessie asked quietly, and with more sincerity.

While Joey was always a little wary of the truth, she was growing tired of waging this war with only the thoughts inside her head. "Okay…" she agreed with some caution, waiting for it.

"I think you're absolutely right."

Her shoulders slumped, and she could only stare at her sister in confused and stunned silence.

"You do this with him, and you two find yourselves in a real relationship, with all that entails?" Bessie gently shifted her hold on the sleeping baby in her arms. "I guarantee you're going to ruin it a little. You're probably going to ruin it a lot--maybe in some small way every single day. You'll fight, you both might say things you don't mean at times, you'll feel hurt, annoyance, frustration, anger…sometimes even doubt. But, the thing to remember is, you're also going to fix it a little every day, in so many other, more important ways--because it's also about learning and patience and caring and acceptance and love. So, some days it will be tougher than you thought and others it will be better than you could have ever imagined. But not doing this with him? Not even giving it a chance, with the way you two so obviously feel about each other? There's no worse risk you can take in life than the risk of regret, because it's the one thing you don't get back."

Joey's lips parted in response, but she didn't have the words.

"This is it, Joey." Bessie smiled and stood from her chair, easing the sleeping infant over into her arms. "No more time left to think this thing to death, or talk yourself right out of it. Any minute now, the rest of your life is going to come knocking at that door. So, are you going to put out the welcome mat or not?"

She walked away into the kitchen, leaving them there. Joey lifted Meg to her shoulder, closing her teary eyes as she held her close and turned to carry her upstairs to her crib. It occurred to her that Pacey would be disappointed he didn't get to give her a kiss goodnight. And Joey would miss the way the baby's face lit up in adoration when she saw him.

She realized then she almost envied Meg in the way she could love him so completely, so purely and openly, without anything holding her back, far too young and innocent to ever realize the infinite complexities in love--only knowing one way to do it, and that was with every bit of her heart. And in return, she got every bit of his back.

Joey stroked the back of her soft baby hair as she climbed the stairs; then paused on a sigh after she laid her down to watch her sleep. She wanted to give her daughter so much and teach her so many things, but perhaps there was one lesson that Meg could actually help her learn. And maybe it wasn't all that difficult or complex, after all.

To love him completely, without doubt or fear, might just turn out to be the easiest thing Joey had ever done.

Pacey blew out a noisy, agitated sigh as he left the restaurant behind in a few long strides, the cool and concentrated chill of air conditioning dissolving in the thick, sweet balm of the summer evening. Keys in hand, he was in his truck and pulling away down Water Street a second later, without as much as a backwards glance.

A patch of passing thunderstorms with scattered lightning in the late afternoon somehow left his main competition in town without power for the dinner hour. While, financially, he probably benefited greatly from nearly doubling his usual number of customers tonight, personally it couldn't have happened at a worst time. The Harbor Arts Festival was going on all over the port, he had a brand new prep cook training, one of his more unreliable waitresses flaked on her shift to call in sick without finding coverage, three different tables received the wrong orders, four parties of six walked in at the same time and they ran out of lobsters. Twice.

It was like a comedy of errors--minus the actual laughs.

Though he should be used to it by now, he was still aggravated to be running so late. Obviously, they could just forget about the concert now. Pacey was still determined and desperate to try to save the rest of the evening, however. He waited too long for this night.

He thought again of that morning, in the kitchen of his restaurant, as he watched her trying to explain, struggling with words balanced right there on her lips. It brought him back to another moment in his life, a much sadder and more frustrating time, when she stood there in front of him, in almost that exact same spot on the day of Jen's memorial service. That day, she was also struggling with her words as much as he was struggling to understand, both so emotionally drained and distraught, continually being interrupted by other people. She finally walked away, never really explaining what she had been trying to say. And Pacey let her go. A week later, she was moving to California with Dawson.

So, when she left his kitchen that morning, interrupted yet again, Pacey returned to work with a troubled and heavy heart, lost deep within his thoughts, afraid he might be losing her all over again. For so long, he was quick to assume the worst--that she was always, in one way or another, trying to tell him goodbye.

But now, with Meg in their lives, he realized it put everything into a different light. They had already made that commitment to be together as parents, so neither one of them was going anywhere. No one was running away this time.

It felt so right when they were all together, like all the best pieces of his world were in place. Even having gone through all the hurts and regrets of the past year, Pacey could not deny that he was exactly where he wanted to be right now, and happier than he had ever been before. Every day, this brand new love he felt for his baby daughter only continued to grow, and every day what he'd felt for Joey nearly his whole life only continued to deepen. It only got better.

Maybe what they'd done to arrive here was wrong, tainted by betrayal and dishonesty, but the only thing that felt wrong to Pacey now was that he couldn't just admit the truth to her out loud. In fact, he'd be happy to shout it from the rooftops if she gave him half the chance.

Or had she given him that chance, and he just blew it?

Where before he had been left standing in the dark, suddenly it was as if a bulb went off in his head. He left the restaurant at the height of the dinner hour, walking out in the midst of a rush, simply saying he had something important he had to do and would be back. When he returned thirty-five minutes later in possession of a wide and permanent grin, he was sure his staff was even more curious and confused.

When Pacey finally pulled into the driveway and glanced at his watch, whatever tiny hope he had left for trying to make good on those dinner reservations was lost. It was already after nine o'clock, and it was at least a half hour ride to Falmouth. As he walked up to the front door, it also caught his attention that Bessie's car was nowhere to be seen, which obviously meant Joey must have sent her off, giving up before him. Hoping their plans for the evening were all she'd given up on, Pacey buried another sigh as he reached the front door. He supposed he would, at the very least, get to apologize to her in person.

He rapped out a soft knock before gently easing it open. The yet unfurnished dining room area was awash in darkness, but there wasn't a single light on in the living room either. Sighing as he stepped inside, he glanced up the staircase, lightly resting his hand on a polished wood banister. He really hoped she hadn't gone to bed mad--or, worse yet, disappointed.

"Pace?" Her voice, instead, drifted down the short hallway from the kitchen--though he didn't notice much light coming from there either. "Is that you?"

"Yeah." He covered a sigh, calling back quietly so as not to wake the baby. "It's me…finally."

"Well, I could kind of use your help with something…"

A weary smile twitched at the corner of his mouth as he dropped his head and rubbed at the back of his neck. A joint home improvement project wasn't exactly what he had envisioned for this evening, but he'd take what he could get.

Emerging from the front hall into the wide expanse of the kitchen, Pacey half expected to find her there installing some new cabinet hardware or putting up a shelf. But she wasn't there at all. It took him another second to spot her outside the open paned glass doors, standing out on the circular deck.

There was a small flowering dogwood tree right next to the steps that led down into the backyard, and she was leaning over the deck rail stringing some kind of roping along its leafy branches. In flip-flops and a simple ivory-colored summer dress in light cotton that floated around the tops of her slender thighs, her long hair was pulled back loosely in a clip, wavy tendrils escaping everywhere, so she had to keep blowing errant strands out of her eyes.

Approaching slowly, he paused just inside the kitchen to lean a shoulder in the open doorway. Tucking his hands into the pockets of his khaki trousers, he watched with a faint but curious grin.

She glanced over to meet his eyes, and her smile warmed in greeting.

"I'm sorry I ruined our night," he sighed, his voice carrying the full weight of his regret.

"How could you have done that," she said, "when it hasn't even started yet?"

A smile tugged; then slid across his face in a broader stroke.

"You forget I'm very familiar with the restaurant life," she added, glancing back to the tree and lifting up on her toes to drape another strand of wiring. "I swear, it was only the nights when I had to get home to study for some huge exam or something that everything that could go wrong, did go wrong. And I'd be stuck working the endless shift from hell." Stepping back to appraise the tree, she glanced at him again. "Can you hit that switch?"

Brow furrowing, Pacey tilted his head back to see there was a switch plate right there on the wall beside the open door. He turned it on, his lips parting in a slight expression of surprise when the dogwood tree lit up, tiny white lights sparking like diamonds in the dark leaves.

With the lack of streetlights in these beachside residential neighborhoods, the only light out here usually came from the moon. But now the tree cast a nice illumination over the deck, giving the whole yard a sort of magical and even romantic look, much more unobtrusive than the piercing beam of some deck floodlight.

Joey admired her handiwork before smiling at him again. "Kind of nice, huh?"

His eyes remained on her. "Very nice."

She grinned, looking pleased, and he finally stepped outside to join her. Lifting a hand to the nape of her neck, he trailed a soft caress down her back, threading his fingers through those silky tresses.

"So what's this all about?" he asked softly, unable to resist whispering a kiss past her ear.

"I guess it's my version of a welcome mat."

Before Pacey could question her further, she inclined her head in the direction of the patio table behind them.

"Shall we?"

The set was new, a sturdy teakwood dining table and four chairs with a dark oil-based stain that would, inevitably, like everything else, weather to a soft gray out here in the elements and ocean air. But, at the moment, all that nice wood was draped in a linen tablecloth with matching placemats, dishes and flat wear set out neatly for a cozy party of two. A stout ivory candle glowed inside a blown glass hurricane lantern in the center and, off to the side, an old fashioned galvanized steel bucket held several bottles of his favorite beer, chilling on ice.

He wasn't even able to express a reaction before they were interrupted by the low chime of the front doorbell.

Joey perked up, her dark eyes shimmering with all that light. "Oh--I believe that would be dinner."

She hurried away, leaving him a bit speechless, and returned a moment later with two medium pizza boxes held aloft in her hands.

"Perfect timing, huh?" She breezed past him to set them down on the table.

"Ah…yeah," he chuckled, scratching at his temple. "How did you manage that?"

"I called the restaurant earlier and got Quimby on the line," Joey admitted with a faintly guilty grin. "I asked her to give me a quick call to alert me when you left."

Pacey didn't quite know what to say. For the past several days, he'd been planning all the different ways in which he could make this night perfect for her. But, right now, standing here, he couldn't think of anything more perfect than this.

"You're all right, you know that, Potter?"

"I'll try not to let the compliments go to my head," she returned in dry deadpan. "Come on…let's sit."

Pacey was more than happy to comply, dishing her out a slice of pepperoni and cracking open her beer before then serving himself. He related some sorry tales of his night--now, finally, able to find some humor in it.

"So, what time did she go down?" he asked

Joey paused to take a bite of her slice, narrowing her eyes thoughtfully as she swallowed. "I'd say she was out by seven or so." Dabbing her lips with a napkin, she laughed a little. "She started doing that thing with her hair…twirling her curl on her forehead around her finger?"

Pacey nodded his head in understanding as he chuckled. "Yeah, she was doing that the other day in the truck when I was bringing her back for her nap."

"But she woke once…I think she's still getting used to the new surroundings...and, of course, didn't want anything to do with the bottle once she saw me," Joey added wryly. "But I didn't want to be in the middle of nursing her and have to run out with you to make our dinner reservation, so Bessie took her out here with a bottle and rocked her a while before she left. That seemed to work."

"I'm sorry again…" he sighed at the reminder of their botched plans.

"Don't be." Joey shrugged. "I was actually in the mood for pizza."

He smiled, not quite sure if that was true but appreciating the effort all the same.

"So, how long until she's shut off?" he asked.

"I don't know," Joey moved her shoulders and sighed. "It would be nice if I could keep up at least that one last feeding before bedtime and give her those benefits right through her first twelve months, but we'll have to see how it goes. She's probably going to be around more kids this summer, which only means more germs, and they do say breastfeeding helps in that they'll have fewer ear infections…infections of any kind, really..."

Her voice drifted off there, and he knew they were probably both beginning to realize the same thing. This was supposed to be a date, not just any other meal they might share together.

She met his eyes with an unspoken acknowledgement, her smirk faintly hovering.

"And we probably shouldn't spend the whole entire evening talking about the baby, huh?" she murmured. Then she straightened her posture, as if starting again. "Let's pick a different subject."

"Well, we can talk about how beautiful you are." Easing back in his chair to take a small swig of cold beer, Pacey smiled slowly as his eyes drifted over her. "Or at least I could, all night."

Quickly, primly, Joey tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and squirmed uncomfortably under his gaze.

"So, did I mention she saw the neighbor's terrier the other day and almost said 'dog'?" she rushed ahead. "I mean…it was right there, if you listened carefully enough."

Placing his beer down, Pacey only chuckled in amusement. After a moment, she spoke again, switching tones.

"There is, I suppose, another topic that should be addressed," she offered softly, more hesitantly. "Perhaps now is as good a time as any."

He glanced across the table to notice the way her eyes were searching his. But he had nothing left to hide. Not anymore.

"Ah…" He narrowed his gaze, resting elbows on the table as he leaned in. "So, you want to get all that serious, messy, technical stuff out of the way first, eh? Set all the ground rules…definitions, limitations, restrictions?"

"Well, I don't know if I'd phrase it exactly like that," she murmured with a flick of her eyebrow, that sardonic lilt in her tone.

"And you probably also want to make sure we're both aware of the fact we need to take it slow here, right? Or how we need to be careful and take Meg into consideration, always remembering the ways in which our relationship may, in turn, affect our daughter." Lifting his beer bottle again, Pacey spoke as casually as if he were reading the words off some prepared list. "That we should try to learn from the past…but also remember that history isn't necessarily doomed to repeat itself?"

He paused there, trying not to smile too much at the look she was giving him, and tilted his head as if waiting on her response.

"Oh, I'm sorry…" Joey feigned an apologetic tone, but it did nothing to disguise all that Potter sarcasm. "Were you done? I wasn't sure."

He couldn't resist a low chuckle of laughter, but continued to watch her carefully.

"Well, am I close?" he asked.

"You're in the ballpark, I suppose," she admitted with a reluctant smile. Then all that lovely dark light seemed to fade in her eyes. She glanced down at her lap, and this time her sarcasm was softer, sadder somehow. "Wow, it's almost like we've had this conversation before…"

Pacey knew he had to tread gently here, aware that they both still felt the ache of bruises left behind from old wounds. So he leaned forward, carefully reaching out to place his hand over hers on the table.

"Yeah, but we've gotta get some credit here for being older and wiser," he said quietly, his smile softening with more tenderness as he ducked his head to try to meet her eyes. "Don't you think?"

"We'll, you're older," she said, glancing back up. "I'll give you that."

He met her gaze with a soft smirk before patting her hand. "See, that's more like the attitude you gotta take, Potter."

She managed to smile. "And what attitude is that exactly?"

"That whatever is gonna happen is gonna happen," he said, lifting his hands to gesture. "But if we don't at least grab at the chances, the good things that come our way, all we're gonna be left with at the end of our lives is a bunch of 'what ifs'. And, really, that's not much of a life at all." He let his gaze drift over her again. "You've always been my biggest and best 'what if', Jo…but you've remained so for far too long." He hesitated, feeling a small pang, an unexpected tightening in his throat. "All I know is, that's not where I want you to stay."

"So where do you… want me?"

"Is that a multiple choice question, I hope?"

Sighing on a reluctant smile, she shook her head and rolled her eyes as he laughed. "I knew I set myself up the minute the words left my mouth…" she muttered.

"Eh…you know me too well," he chuckled softly.

"Likewise, apparently," she joked with more subtle sarcasm. "And yet," she sighed, "at the same time, I suppose we kind of have to get to know each other all over again, huh?"

"Well, isn't that the fun part?"

She narrowed her eyes on the hint of a smirk. "I didn't exactly mean it like that."

Pacey feigned confusion, furrowing his brow. "Well, whatever do you mean? Because I--of course-- was only talking about our changing perceptions and the ways in which our life experiences in the past few years may have altered our future outlooks or current views on world politics."

"Right," she drawled. "Of course you were."

"Oh…wait a minute…" He made an exaggerated show of understanding. "Did you think I was talking about sex? Seriously? C'mon, Jo…give me some credit here. It's obvious that we should wait and take our time with this, see where we're at, instead of just jumping right into bed together. I mean, we're adults here--parents, no less. Let's act like it."

She looked mildly surprised, but there was some wry amusement lurking behind her faintly suspicious smile. "Well, I'm glad you feel that way. Because, as familiar as all this might feel at times, I think we should avoid getting too familiar, too fast--you know?"

"Absolutely. In fact?" he sighed and shrugged, affecting an air of casual indifference. "I don't think I really even want to sleep with you right now."

Although she was obviously trying not to laugh, her eyes and voice took on a hint of pleading.

"Okay…can we just be serious here for one minute, please? This is important, and I really want to talk about this stuff with you, Pace."

"I know you do, Jo," he chuckled lightly, but much more sincerely, unable to deny her anything she asked of him. "And I understand…I do." His voice softened, and he leaned forward again, holding her gaze so he was sure she heard him. "But I've waited this long to be at this particular time and place with you, so, trust me, I'm more than happy to enjoy the stay a while. After all…" grinning, he let his gaze drift over her face. "You can't really beat the view."

Joey smiled briefly, lowering her eyes to accept the hidden compliment. "So…good." She nodded her head, as if that settled it. "Then we're on the same page?"

"Well," he leaned back to lift his beer to his mouth, mumbling as if to himself, "I'd prefer if we were on the same sheet, but…"

Placing the beer back down, Pacey grinned and chuckled, inordinately happy just to be, once again, on the receiving end of that look.

"I'm kidding," he assured her, holding up one hand in a gesture of peaceful surrender. "Just a little joke…"

Once they were done eating, Pacey brought their plates into the kitchen balanced atop the half empty pizza boxes. Transferring all the slices to one box, he slid it into the refrigerator before turning to the sink to rinse the dishes. He was just about to head back outside when he noticed the portable CD/radio and cassette player on the kitchen counter--the very one he'd been using to listen to the baseball game while he painted upstairs.

Joey was clearing the empty beer bottles off the table when he came back out. Gently removing the bottles from her hands, he took her hands in his, giving a tug to ease her away from the table.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her brow knit in confusion, but there was amusement dancing in those dark eyes, too.

"This is a date, is it not?" he said, guiding on of her hands to his shoulder as he placed his on the slim curve of her waist. "Since you provided the dinner, I figured I'd take care of the dancing."

She narrowed her eyes almost suspiciously but smiled as soon as the music drifted out to the deck from the kitchen.

"This sounds like a really old song."

"Eh…" he grinned softly, taking her other hand, eyes never leaving hers. "If it's good, it never gets old."

Gently he eased her in close, bowing his head and closing his eyes to feel the soft and silky brush of her hair against his chin. He caught a trace, clean scent of shampoo, and then just a hint of her perfume--subtle yet undeniably sexy.

Slowly, they moved to the music, at first a little hesitant and out of practice, but gradually finding that rhythm they never really lost. He waltzed her back and forth a step or two before spinning her at the waist to send her off in a light twirl, catching her right back in his arms.

"Okay…now you're just showing off," Joey laughed.

"Oh, you ain't seen nothin' yet, Potter."

He spun her again, this time finishing off the move in a grand, sweeping dip.

"Pacey!" she gasped quietly, laughing as she clung onto his shirt with one hand.

Arm hooked around her waist, he gently lifted her back upright, the silky ends of her long hair tickling his forearm. "What? Did you think I was going to drop you on your ass?" he chuckled. "You're not that heavy."

Her mouth dropped, but there was laughter hidden in her narrow-eyed expression.

"Gee…thanks a lot. You really know how to sweet talk a girl."

Pacey grinned. "Jo, you pretty much have my guarantee, okay?" he said, softening his voice. "I won't let you fall."

"No?"

"No," he said, smiling down at her as he shook his head.

Something shifted in her expression, moonlight hiding her eyes in pale shadows, and Pacey couldn't resist lowering his mouth to hers. He caught her lips in a soft kiss, his arm curving around her waist in a more tender hold. The movement of their feet slowed until they stopped, but with a slow burning passion, their tongues continued to dance around each other in soft strokes and slow slides.

His hands wound their way up her back, clutching at the soft cotton of her summery dress, gathering it in his fists in tight clenches of desire. He lifted her up against him, softly crushing her breasts to his chest, swallowing her soft moan in his mouth.

Releasing his grip just slightly to set her back down on her feet, he broke away to nibble the warm skin of her earlobe, the tip of his tongue tracing the pink shell of her ear.

"Is this too familiar?" he whispered, his heart softly hammering inside his chest.

"No…" she sighed breathily, sliding her hands up his chest to curve around his neck. "Just familiar enough."

His tongue pushed past her parted lips, diving into the heat of her mouth again as he pulled her close. She let out a soft, stuttered gasp as he bit her neck lightly, and his hand moved up from her waist to curve around her breast. Lifting its soft weight in his palm, so the creamy mound nearly spilled out of the low neckline of her dress, he lowered his head to kiss his way down.

Grazing his lips over that dome of impossibly warm and soft skin, he felt the hard pebble of her nipple against his palm, right through the material. Pacey gently captured it between his thumb and forefinger, rubbing slowly.

Joey tensed on a nearly silent intake of breath, her hand clenching at the nape of his neck, trying to fist his short cropped hair before she let it out a low, breathy moan. Pacey realized then that he'd denied himself this for far too long and, suddenly, all the warm and sensual stirrings of desire he felt were gone--replaced instead by a singular, hot and painful need.

Smoothing hands back down her sides, tracing the slim contours of her waist, he gripped onto her hips, pressing fingers into firm flesh. Seemingly in one swift forward movement, he hoisted her up, settling her back on top of the teakwood table. Bottles toppled, rolling and clinking together, as he pushed in between her spread legs, capturing her in his passionate embrace. Head bowed, his breath hot on her breast, his tongue brushed the peaked nipple through the fabric of her dress before his lips closed over it.

She quietly cried out his name and Pacey dragged his kisses back up, hungry again for the sweet succulence of her neck. His hands slid around her waist until one was resting on the curve of her backside, the other drifting up to tangle in her long hair as he rocked her back slightly, his hips instinctively surging forward. The heat from her body seemed to cause every muscle in his to tense, tightening, and he wondered if she could feel the hard throb of his pulse at her core. His mind grew hazy, nearly delirious with want at the thought of being lost in the tight, wet clench of that honeyed heat.

His hand was on the move, sliding up her tanned and toned thigh in a drift of heat, pushing the skirt of her dress up right along with it. The tips of his fingers had barely grazed the silk of her panties when she unlocked her hands from the back of his neck, sliding them down to press them flat against his chest.

"Pace…"

"I know…" he sighed, briefly closing his eyes before he released her from his hold, easing away. His hand slid down to rest on her knee. "I know."

"We probably shouldn't be doing this," she sighed shakily, gripping onto the edge of the table as she cast her eyes down, and started to worry her bottom lip between her teeth.

As he watched her bite down on that plush sweetness, her lips still swollen and rosy from his fevered kisses, Pacey felt an electric jolt--one that went straight to his groin. He forgot how much the little things she did could drive him so insane.

"You shouldn't do that," he warned her.

Glancing up, her faint smile twitched, somewhat sheepish and apologetic, and she gave a nod of her head. "Bad habit," she acknowledged in agreement.

"No," he sighed, easing back between her legs as he lifted his hands to her face. "Because it makes me want to do…" Leaning in with a tilt of his head, he punctuated each pause with a soft, lingering kiss. "Exactly what…" He kissed her again, stealing another slow sip. "We shouldn't do…"

Suddenly, from somewhere beyond the trees that surrounded the yard, there was a rapid series of small explosions, like the crackle and pop of gunfire

Joey jumped as if caught, breaking away with a softly startled gasp. "What was that?"

"My guess is some neighborhood ruffians got their hands on some illegal fireworks," he replied with a low chuckle, hand still caressing her knee. He snuck back in to kiss her neck. "They better hope Deputy Doug isn't on patrol tonight…"

"I swear," she murmured, her eyelashes fluttering closed as her head fell back, "if they wake that baby…"

As if on cue, the quiet hiccups of Meg's sleepy whimpers could be heard from her upstairs bedroom window. Joey groaned, bringing her head forward to burrow it against the front of his shirt. Even with that small gesture of closeness and familiarity, Pacey's breath caught in his chest.

Her sigh of defeat was tempered by some wry amusement. "Do you get the feeling this is just not our night?"

Chuckling quietly, he gently propped his chin on her bowed head, smoothing his hands up her back in a soft caress.

"Eh, I figure we have tens of thousands left in our lifetime," he said. "We're bound to get it right on one of 'em."

She leaned back to gaze up at him, her dark eyes soft and liquid, promising, still suffused with all the heat of their kisses. Smiling, he traced the curve of her bottom lip with the pad of his thumb, lowering his mouth to hers again. He had only made the slightest contact, however, when there was a more explosive shriek, followed by a sizzle and boom above their heads, the sky lighting up in color.

Arched brows meeting on a question, they both glanced skyward.

"That wasn't neighborhood kids," she said. "That was the real thing."

Pacey smirked on a knowing sigh as they watched another green and silver explosion go off in the sky. "How could I forget? The Harbor Arts Festival…"

"Oh right…" She nodded her head. "They always have fireworks."

Through the bedroom window upstairs, Meg's cries suddenly escalated to more demanding pitch.

Joey moved to slide off the table. "Well, that's it…she's never going back to sleep now."

"You know, we'd probably have a pretty good view from that beach down the street," Pacey pointed out, rubbing the back of his neck as he moved away to let her go. "If she's awake anyway, why don't we grab her and take a walk down?"

Smoothing her dress down, Joey pursed her lips thoughtfully, but then her smile lifted.

"Sure." She shrugged a shoulder. "Why not? We might as well."

Meg, of course, was more than happy to be taken out of the crib to go on a little nighttime adventure. Joey pulled a hooded sweatshirt right over her pajamas and opted to just carry her on the short walk. Kids buzzed around on their bikes, and the scent of barbeque charcoals carried on the summer wind, laughter and voices coming from a few backyard gatherings.

When they arrived at the sea wall at the end of the street, rounding a giant, untamed thicket of wild salt spray roses, their steps almost immediately slowed. For a moment, they had to just stop and stare.

A scattered crowd was gathered, and a few small bonfires had been set on the beach. The harbor was similarly illuminated all the way around the inlet, on other private beaches and backyards, and the warm reflections flickered in the dark and glossy surface of the sea. The lower edge of the horizon was tinted with the fading embers of sunset, fiery rose and lavender against a backdrop of deep purple velvet rising to the cathedral dome of nighttime sky. As children danced along the foamy, silvery surf with sprays of colored sparklers in hand, the brilliant explosions overhead rained down like fountains of shimmering stars pouring into the ocean.

The whole magical quality of the scene seemed to float right out of some idealized dream of childhood.

"Oh…wow," was all Joey said, almost speechless.

"C'mon…over here." Touching his hand to her back, Pacey led them towards an open space right on the sea wall. He leaned back to take a seat on the rough, rock-hewn surface, with Joey doing the same, only resting back against him as he guided her in between his legs. It felt just as good to hold her this way.

"I guess I'd forgotten…" Joey whispered softly, cradling Meg in front.

"Forgot what?" he asked, furrowing his brow.

"That it could be like this," she explained. "That it's always been like this."

Smiling as he gazed out over Capeside Harbor transformed, Pacey nuzzled the tip of his nose into the silky strands of her hair before propping his chin on her shoulder. He tilted his gaze to watch the baby stare up at the sky, those tiny rosebud lips parted in silent wonder, her face aglow, a mirror reflection of her mother's. Adjusting his arms around Joey, he wrapped them both up tight.

Pacey hadn't forgotten anything. He just never knew it could be like this.

Some days, it made him want to turn back the clock and go back to that heartbroken and hurting guy he was at eighteen and try to change it, if he only could--to somehow do it differently, and not lose her this time. Or, if he couldn't change things, to at least let that poor, pathetic guy know that it wouldn't always be like this--that he would be a better man someday. Better for what he went through, the struggles and disappointments he faced. Better for the journey, no matter how many different roads he traveled. Better for the friends he found along the way, and the ones, now gone, he still carried with him. Better for what he knew, and for all he had left to learn. Better, as difficult as it was to believe, for having let her go. Better for simply having lived his life.

And better because she, beyond all hope and reason, would someday come back into it.

Easing the baby gently down into her crib, Pacey smiled as he watched her sleepy head loll to the side, a fat cheek pressed into the soft cotton sheet. He glanced towards the windows, left open a crack to the fresh ocean air. The only sound breaking the peaceful quiet tonight, however, was the musical chirp of the crickets and the summer wind whispering through the trees.

Grasping the banister rail, he headed back downstairs, glancing just briefly at his watch when he reached the front hall. He needed to get back to the restaurant to close up, but wasn't exactly in any great rush.

Saying goodnight to Joey out in the driveway after the fireworks last night, he could barely tear himself away, until finally he had to force himself to get in the truck and just go. Although--as promised--he had every intention of taking things slowly here and would do anything else she asked of him, Pacey had a sneaking suspicion that every night from now on it was only going to be that much harder to leave.

That confirmation came only a second later when he found her in a t-shirt and cotton shorts, her long hair spilling down around her shoulders as she smiled up at him from the couch in a way that made his chest actually ache with longing.

The kitchen was so big she'd set up half the space like a family room, with two small and comfortable couches angled at a corner under all those windows. This was where the new TV also made its home, set into a large armoire-styled entertainment center that matched the kitchen cabinetry. Pacey liked the way it brought the big, sunny room together. But he supposed it was kind of sad that this is what he'd been reduced to-- imagining himself working on a recipe at the counter while Joey typed on the computer nearby, Meg bouncing in her exersaucer in front of one of her baby music videos, someday playing on the floor, then out on the deck or in the backyard. They could all come together at the kitchen table over a meal, or cozy up on the couch for a movie. Here he was--a newly-single, moderately successful twenty-eight year old man in decent shape with a healthy libido who, if the truth be told, had received his fair share of propositions from attractive women. Yet what he fantasized about was staying home and making family dinners.

Well, that wasn't entirely accurate. There were one or two other things he fantasized about.

He rushed over here this evening, wanting to make it in time to give Meg her usual kiss goodnight. But it was the mere hope, the faintest wish of a kiss from Joey that made him stay.

"She went down okay?" she asked.

"Yeah." Pacey moved to sit with her, careful not to get too close. The torture was already acute enough. "So, what are you watching?"

"Oh…these DVDs I got for Bessie last night," she explained with a dismissive shrug of her shoulder. "She was telling me how she just started getting into the 'Sex and the City' reruns in syndication--because you know she was too cheap to ever subscribe to HBO. So I got her all the seasons to help her catch up." She lifted the remote from the arm of the couch. "I can change it, though."

Pacey shrugged a shoulder, leaning back a bit to get comfortable. "Nah…you don't have to."

She gave him a sideways smirk, one eyebrow arched in amusement and skepticism. "You don't really want to watch this, do you?"

"Sure I do," Pacey insisted, since he'd be willing to watch just about anything, as long as it meant he got to stay here with her a while longer. "Hey, I was right there every Wednesday night when my older sisters were watching 90210. And I'm not too proud to admit it."

"Yeah, you know… now that you mention it? I'm vaguely recalling some sad and unfortunate incident involving sideburns...but I can't be sure. It was so traumatizing I think I must have repressed the memory."

He narrowed his eyes in skeptical amusement. "I never had sideburns, okay?"

"Are you sure?" she asked, pausing with a thoughtful look at she tried not to smile. "Somewhere in between the Caesar period and the era of frosted tips? The predecessor to the goatee, perhaps--because that would explain a lot."

Pacey only shook his head slowly as she bit back a laugh.

"Let's just leave the entertainment portion of the evening to the show, shall we, Potter?" he said, directing her back to the television. "Now, who's this one with all the hair--fill me in here."

"Well, this is Carrie, the Sarah Jessica Parker character…" she began, motioning vaguely towards the screen with the remote in hand. "And she just started dating this famous artist guy…but she doesn't seem to get that he's just totally wrong for her. He doesn't want the same things she does, and we're not so sure that he even really cares what she wants. Right now--and this is one of the last episodes in the whole series--he's just asked her to leave her whole life in New York and move to Paris with him, even giving her an ultimatum of sorts. So her friends are upset…they don't agree with the decision or understand why she's doing it, and she's trying to argue with them, insisting that she knows her own head, when it's obvious she doesn't know her own heart. Her best friend, the one with the baby, thinks she's just using it as an excuse to run away…"

She hesitated there, and Pacey noticed the tell-tale crease in her brow, one of those faint but fretful frowns threatening to appear.

"So does she go?" he asked. "Is that how it all ends?"

"No." She shook her head slightly. "See, there's another guy, Mr. Big, who's like the real love of her life, the one with whom she could never quite get the timing right…well, he left her once, years before, and moved away to Paris. Coincidentally enough, the very same place this new guy wants her to go. He went without her, without asking her to come and without asking her to wait for him, even though she desperately wanted him to. To make matters worse, he comes back engaged to someone else. So, anyway, in the end, she does make the decision to move to Paris with this other guy, but if you've watched the show you know she never got over the hurts in her relationship with Big. So, really, she tricked herself into thinking she was finally getting everything she ever wanted, in being offered that fantasy of Paris--when really all she ever wanted was…him."

Finishing her explanation, she grew very still, and wouldn't meet his eyes.

Narrowing his gaze, Pacey scratched at the stubble on his chin. Since he didn't have quite the same time to devote to his studies as he did in his slacker youth, he no longer held the same expertise in the psychology of pop culture. Yet the story had a vaguely familiar ring to it.

Quietly, he asked, "Does she stay in Paris?"

"No, she comes back."

He took a brief pause, and then he glanced at her. "And the Big guy?"

She smiled almost sadly, eyes on the television. "He comes back for her."

"Well, then…maybe it wasn't necessarily a bad thing that she made that mistake, right?" Pacey offered, keeping his tone light. "Perhaps it was even important that she make it, in order to figure things out for herself. I mean…if the guy came back for her before she realized these things, whose to say she would've been ready for him then."

Gazing down at her lap, Joey nodded her head with just the faint shadow of a smile. "Perhaps," she agreed. Then she reached up, so quickly that he almost didn't notice, and swiped at the corner of her eye.

In the silence that followed, Pacey could almost feel the weight of old sadness and words unspoken bearing down on them a little. The history never really left them, so one could never be quite certain of when and where it would decide to make its presence known. This time, however, he felt they could withstand the pressure. What they had forged between them in the time since Meg was born was probably stronger than anything they ever had before.

So, he let his gaze drift over her a moment before he reached for her hand, taking it in his. Gently lacing their fingers together, he gave it a tender squeeze before lifting it to his lips.

"You know what I think?"

"That we watch entirely too much TV?"

"Well, yeah, that goes without saying…" he agreed. "But what I think is…mistakes don't always have to ruin the whole story. I know you always thought that, Jo," he sighed. "But they don't. Sometimes, in fact, they just make it richer and more interesting."

She came around slightly to the prodding of gentle humor in his tone. Sliding her gaze over, she smiled from under a fringe of dark lashes as she watched him kiss her hand.

"You think so, huh?"

"Yeah, I do." His smile softened as he joked confidentially. "Because I don't know if you happen to recall this, but that little baby girl sleeping upstairs?" He scratched as his chin, narrowing his gaze. "She wasn't exactly, um…'planned', if you will. So, as far as mistakes or false moves go? Well, I don't really want to know where we'd be without them. In fact, if this is how it turns out? I'd happily make a lot more."

Her smile brightened in her watery eyes, but he detected a sleepy sigh hidden inside her soft laugh.

"And…on that note? I should probably hit the road," he acknowledged with great reluctance, still in that frame of mind where he was a little afraid to push his luck. "I gotta get back to the Icehouse. But, before I do…it has occurred to me that I still owe you a dinner out. And I was hoping to make good on that promise."

Her eyebrow arched, teasing. "You didn't like our dinner in?"

"Oh, don't even go there, Potter," he warned her with a low, husky laugh, sliding forward on the couch as he prepared to go. "You know I did." He glanced back over his shoulder, resting elbows on knees. "I'm just trying to figure out a way to finagle a second date out of you," he admitted with a sly grin.

"A second date, huh?" Her sweet, soft voice lowered to a place that did bad things to him--and by bad, he meant very, very good. "Well, did it ever occur to you to just ask?"

Slowly, hungrily, he let his gaze travel over her face, landing to linger on her lips. "And if I did," he murmured, his own voice deepening, "would you say yes?"

"Guess you'll just have to find out."

For just a heartbeat of silence, Pacey stared into her eyes, mesmerized by the flicker of desire in the deep molten depths. Then the tip of her soft pink slipped out to wet her lips.

The next thing he knew, he was practically on top of her. It was as if they ignited upon touch, setting his body on fire.

Hands tangled in her long hair, his tongue dove into the sweet, warm depths of her mouth, tangling and untangling with hers. His hands traveled over her body beneath him on the couch, thumbs brushing the undersides of her breasts through her thin cotton top, and her soft gasps dissolved into a soft moan of pleasure.

Fueled by the response, he slid his hand higher, pushing the material up over her smooth, tanned skin until he could palm the creamy dome, cupped in the satin of her bra. The full, soft weight of it filled his hand to overflowing and he muttered a soft groan, needing to pause.

He loved her the way she was before. She was perfect the way she was before, and there was nothing one could do to improve upon that perfection.

Except, perhaps, to add a little bit more.

Slowly, deliberately, he hooked his thumb in the fabric to ease it down in front; then grazed just the pad against the tight, hard nipple, his palm still caressing, relearning the curve. She made a soft noise in her throat and it sent another flare of heat surging through him. He layered hot, hungry kisses down her neck, still massaging the soft mound of flesh, aching to touch and taste her everywhere.

His hands moved lower, settling on her slender hips as they continued the kiss, writhing and strained against each other on the couch, locked in a desperate need to find relief from the building heat. Smoothing one hand around the tight curve of her ass, he lifted her off the cushion and Joey slung her leg over him, arching again on a breathy cry. Rocking hips forward, Pacey silenced her whimper with the hard press of sweet relief.

He broke away from the kiss; breathless and panting as he gazed down to meet her eyes. Her body was so willing, wantonly rocking back against him, and he could feel the incredible heat of her core. The ache, the need to be inside all that heat and perfection was almost unbearable. Gazing back up at him, her knees pressed to his hips, t-shirt bunched up to her bra to reveal her toned and tanned stomach, her tousled hair spilling into her flushed face, her eyes, dark and wild, anxiously searched his. Briefly lost in those fathomless depths, Pacey was almost afraid of wanting her too much.

But then he saw the silent question, the vulnerability hidden within. He was about five seconds away from taking her, right here and right now, and knew she would not resist. Yet he wanted more than just surrender.

So, instead, he shook his head slightly, pushing off the couch to sit back on his knees.

"Sorry…" he muttered and sighed, raking his hand through his short hair. He was at a loss for anything better to say under the circumstances.

"Don't be…" Joey struggled to sit up a little, propped up bent elbows as she blew a strand of hair out of her eyes. "I mean…it wasn't just you."

He blew out another sigh, glancing at his wristwatch. "Hell, I have to get back to the restaurant."

"Really?" Joey actually looked a little forlorn--when put together with the incredibly sexy way her gorgeous, lithe, supple body was tangled up below him right now made Pacey feel a whole new kind of desire. "You do?"

"Unfortunately, as owner and boss, I don't think I have much choice." He met her eyes again, suddenly locked back into that heat. "Of course, I could always just sell the place…"

He dropped back on top, hands supporting his weight as his lower half sank down between her thighs. Joey arched up to meet him, arms flung around his neck. Pacey groaned helplessly into the kiss as her tongue slid into his mouth, slow and sweet and seductive. He ached to pull her closer, to feel her against him, to feel him inside her. But then she whispered his name, begging, again so vulnerable and defenseless.

He broke away, sliding back on the couch to drag a few last kisses down over the warm skin of her stomach before he opened up space between them.

"That's it…" he mumbled. "I'm going. Now."

He stood from the couch to create even more distance, still a little disheveled, dazed and disoriented by the sudden attack of passion, and went to tuck his polo shirt back into his khaki trousers. Quickly realizing that it might be a better idea to leave it hanging out for now--at least until that raging hard-on below his belt had time to calm down--he abruptly turned for the door.

"I'll see ya."

"Yeah, um…see ya."

Stepping back outside into the warmth of evening air, Pacey closed the front door behind him. Pausing just a moment to bang his head against the porch trellis a couple of times, he headed to his truck.

Climbing behind the wheel, keys left dangling in the ignition, Pacey slung his arm over the seat to back out of the driveway. Before he drove off down the street however, he had to pause, wincing as he adjusted his tight crotch and shaking his head on a weary sigh.

When he assumed it was probably going to be harder to leave, he didn't mean it quite so literally.

Wheeling the stroller into the driveway, bleached fragments of seashells crackling underfoot, Joey pushed it up the slight incline until she reached the cobbled walkway that led around back to the kitchen door.

A messy tangle of salt spray roses ran wild along the low rock wall that rose above the sandy curb, blanketing the arbor at the end of the front walkway. Under the bay windows, two bushy hydrangeas were in bloom, clusters of blue flowers appearing everywhere in the dark leafy greens, like popcorn popping. A morning glory vine was slowly winding its way up the porch trellis and an army of lavender and thistle surrounded the garage, which looked more like a small barn in the midst of that field. Irises, in bud, were sprouting up along the stone foundation, weakly struggling to unfold delicate petals in the weeds. Underneath, she could make out the vague impression of an actual flower bed.

Lifting the drowsy baby from the stroller with her sunhat tipped low on her face, Joey added 'gardening' to the growing list in her head and carried her into the house.

She was enjoying this introduction to domesticity more than she could have realized. Almost everything inside the house--which wasn't really a lot at this point--had been carefully handpicked by her. Fabrics, tiles, furniture, she chose it all. And it was kind of amazing to see it all come together, turning the place into a home that was so reflective of her tastes. Joey wasn't even sure she had any taste. But she liked the way it was starting to look very much.

Meg had her up with the sun, but it was such a beautiful day Joey didn't really mind. After breakfast, she took her to the beach down the street, private to residents of the neighborhood. It turned out to be perfect for kids, with shallow tidal pools and clean sand, lacking the usual accumulation of seaweed common to breakwater jetties, and so she plopped right down at the edge of the water with Meg to dig sandcastles, the low waves gently crashing and foaming over their toes.

She gave the baby a quick dunk in the tub to get the salt and sand off, and she nearly drifted off to sleep right there in the warm bubbles, more than ready for her midmorning nap. As quickly as possible, Joey got her into a diaper and soft cotton t-shirt, making the quiet and careful transition into her crib. With a pile of work waiting on her desk downstairs and a conference call with her managing editor scheduled for noon, the timing couldn't have been more perfect.

First, however, Joey had to quickly jump in for her morning shower. Not bothering to waste time getting dressed, she only padded back downstairs in her fleecy white bathrobe, her damp, clean hair slicked back in a ponytail. She made herself a nice tall glass of iced coffee from what was left in the morning's pot, and then headed to her desk, which fit in perfectly under a small alcove in the back stairwell down to the kitchen, surrounded by all those windows to the yard.

Lifting a heavy, stacked pile of wall tiles off the desk, she glanced around before finding a spot for them on the island countertop right next to the swatch book from the paint store. She picked them up at an artisan shop downtown, each one beautifully handmade. They were simple in design--impressions pressed right into the clay, then dried and elegantly painted, fired and glazed--but extremely pricey. So she selected only about a dozen in washed blues, sea greens and beach sand browns, each one with the embedded design of a delicately fanned scallop, nautilus shell or starfish. She planned on using them as a top border to the plain tiled half wall in the downstairs bath.

Finally taking a seat to prop her eyeglasses on the bridge of her nose, Joey opened her saved work document and drank deeply of all that fresh, sweet ocean air drifting in through the screens--content with all the comforts and privacy of home. She didn't have to worry about some strange guest wandering by to peek in, no noise and activity from the B&B to disturb Meg, sleeping so peacefully upstairs by an open window.

She had only just begun to type, however, when she had to pause, tilting her head on a faint frown. Thinking she might have heard someone at the front door, she got up from her desk to check. Hopefully it was only the mailman making the day's delivery. She only had an hour or two at most while Meg napped and wanted to avoid any distraction.

Halfway down the short hallway between the kitchen and front living room, however, Joey slowed her steps, frowning warily. While her bare feet on the polished hardwood scarcely made a sound, there was the distinct creak and thud of footsteps echoing. And it was coming from somewhere else inside the house, growing closer. Mild panic and fear wound their way around, coiling into an anxious knot in the pit of her stomach.

Wild-eyed, heart pounding, she gingerly took a giant step backwards into the kitchen. Holding her breath, she opened the large utensil drawer as quietly as possible, picking up the first thing her fingers wrapped around. Imagining the quiet peacefulness of her idyllic morning shattered by some unspeakable horror, she started forward on tiptoes, determined to defend her home and family.

She was just about to peek around the corner into the living room, when suddenly a large figure loomed before her, appearing directly in her path. Reflexively, she jumped and let out a soft shriek, wielding her weapon--until she saw who it was.

"Pacey!" she gasped, breathless in a flood of surprise, relief and irritation.

"Jo." He stopped short, startled, and furrowed his brow. "What are you doing here? And what are you doing with that?"

He pointed and she glanced at the pepper mill in her hand before her shoulders drooped somewhat sheepishly. It wasn't even one of those baton-sized ones made of heavy wood or stainless steel, just the matching partner of her acrylic salt shaker, grabbed out of a clearance bin at Crate & Barrel.

"I thought you were an intruder!" she snapped, mildly defensive in her embarrassment. "I have a child to protect, you know."

"Well, what were you gonna do?" Pacey asked in a slow and skeptical murmur, one eyebrow arching. "Season me to death?"

Narrowing her eyes to smirk, she didn't bother to reply and only turned the question around on him. "And what do you mean 'what am I doing here'?" she asked. "I live here, remember?"

"Yeah, but your car wasn't here, so I thought-"

"It is here," she cut him off in mild exasperation. "I parked in the garage."

"You did?" Pacey frowned. "Why?"

She gasped out a small laugh of disbelief.

"Because you told me I should!"

He only looked more confused.

"Yeah, but since when do you listen to anything I tell you to do?"

Joey rolled her eyes, shaking her head in reluctant amusement when he finally cracked out a grin. Her heart rate was finally slowing down from the jolt of the fright, but it still wasn't quite back to normal rhythm--not with him here.

The night of the fireworks, they had set off more than a few of their own. Even with all her protests they should stop--okay, so maybe there was only one--she just kept grabbing him back for more. The very same thing happened the next night when he came over. He simply sat down on the couch with her to watch some TV before heading back to the Icehouse and before she knew it, they were practically dry humping on the couch. She might as well have been a teenager sneaking her boyfriend in while babysitting.

The same went for the next night, and the one after that…in fact, pretty much every single night they spent together over the last two weeks had gone in a similar way. Passionate make-out sessions and embarrassing grope-fests followed by weak protests and attempts at rational and coherent discussion of why they shouldn't be doing this, only to go right back to doing it again, all over again.

It was a vicious cycle---and wrong had never felt so right.

"Well, sorry for the scare," Pacey apologized with a chuckle, going on to explain, "but I picked up some of that grout I needed, and when I saw--or at least thought--you guys weren't here, I figured I'd get the downstairs bathroom done with those tiles you bought."

"Oh."

Now Joey felt even more silly than she did before, understanding he'd only intended to do something nice for her. She turned away to place the pepper mill down on the antique sideboard table in the hall.

When she glanced back, she caught him smiling at her somewhat strangely, his expression softening. She hesitated on a slight but dubious frown.

"Now what is it?"

His eyes were drifting over her face in a way that made her cheeks burn.

"I finally get to see you in your glasses," he said, his voice dropping to that deep timbre that sent shivers down her spine.

Swallowing audibly, Joey was suddenly and acutely aware of the fact she stood before him in a bathrobe and nothing else. She cast her eyes downward and, unconsciously, lifted her hands, itching to snatch the glasses off her nose. Instead she only tugged at the robe's sash, tightening it for safety.

The memories returned; that night in her hotel room coming back in brief snatches of vivid, erotic detail. Yet the memories had never been that far away, lingering in the periphery of her mind for a long time now, just out of reach but close enough to touch. And every encounter of the past two weeks only reminded her of just how good it would be to reach for that again…complete and total abandon, giving in to every need and desire.

It would be so easy to love him.

"Pacey…" she lowered her voice to an implied warning, urging him to proceed with caution.

"Well, at least now I know."

Timidly, warily, she glanced up.

"Know what?"

"Guys do make passes." He grinned slowly, his hand gently lifting to her chin. "Or maybe it's just you…" His lips brushed against hers. "Yeah…" he sighed, his tongue slipping out to wet his lips as if savoring the taste, before his arm hooked around her waist to ease her closer. "Most definitely just you…"

He stole her breath away in a series of soft, hungry kisses molded gently to her mouth, slow and exploring, dangerously warm and intoxicating, building on that wave of desire--the one that threatened to overwhelm.

It always amazed Joey that his lips could be so soft and tender, yet at the same time so hungry and hot. With a single slow sweep of his tongue, he could set her on fire, all that heat pooling between her legs. Yet it didn't seem to stop her from diving in again and again, as if she couldn't get enough, willingly flinging herself upon the flames.

"Pace…" she murmured his name again, softer, more intimately, hands grasping onto his strong arms as her knees seemed to buckle.

"What?" he whispered, nipping gently at her bottom lip.

"We shouldn't," she sighed, helpless with want. Through the delicious foggy haze, she tried futilely to grasp onto something to pull her back to reality--deadlines and conference calls and babies who weren't inclined to take long naps.

"Perhaps. The problem is I can't seem to stop myself…"

And neither, apparently, could she.

Her lips parted on a quiet moan as his tongue invaded her mouth again in a slow, possessive slide. Tenderly, he brought his hands to her face and then slid his fingers down her neck in a lingering caress, the cadence in her breathy gasps and moans matched to the soft strokes. Breaking away from her mouth with a sigh, he showered soft, gentle kisses, so sensuous and delicious they sent shivers through her, down her throat.

His mouth continued its journey along her shoulder, so silent and sure in its quest, the robe slipping open with a nudge of his nose. The slide of his hands and trail of his tongue sent tiny surges of pleasure through her, each new thrill leaving her weaker than the one before. She didn't know how his kisses could be so powerful yet gentle at the same time, demanding much of her but giving so much more of himself in return.

She didn't know how he could make her feel like this, like no one ever could.

Joey wound her arms around his neck, pulling him in even closer still. She clutched briefly at the fabric of his t-shirt stretched taut across his broad shoulders, recklessly wanting it off, but then her fingers slid up into the back of his short cropped hair instead. Somehow, they moved, so when his kisses trailed down her neck and her head lolled back, she realized she was pressed up against the hallway wall at the staircase. She felt cool ocean air slip inside the parted fold of her robe to whisper over exposed skin, but the real goose bumps came from the soft rasp of his beard stubble, and the flash of blue fire in his eyes as his tongue wove its way down.

She gasped just to imagine the hot rush of his mouth on her, sucking lightly, teasing the tight nipple with a graze of his teeth before soothing it in the warm bath of his tongue. She wanted to feel him so badly it hurt, so badly that her body involuntarily arched in offering, her nipple hardening to a berry brown peak. For so long now, her breasts seemed to only serve this utilitarian purpose, sometimes sore or uncomfortable, devoid of any pleasurable sensation other than what they provided for her baby girl. She needed to feel something else so badly, and Joey knew just the touch of his skilled tongue could change all that.

But it was more than that, too. The ache for him wasn't just physical, even if it throbbed and pulsed at her very core. It was the longing to be close again, to feel him not just inside her but everywhere, warm bodies tangled up in cool sheets, hearts beating on ragged breaths. She wanted him to say her name like he used to, hear the way it broke on his tongue, softened by his husky whisper. She wanted to rake her fingers down his back and feel those powerful, lean muscles so taut with restraint, knowing he held back for her...to know his every kiss, every whisper, every touch was all for her.

She whispered his name, her shaky voice edged with a gasp. Pacey only groaned softly, muttering something unintelligible in the crook of her neck as he kissed her again, nipping at flesh, but his large hand slipped inside the her robe, cupping the full weight in his palm with a soft squeeze. She felt it to her knees

Her mind was telling her this needed to stop but her heart screaming yes, and she didn't know which to trust, lost in a haze, nearly mindless with lust.

"Pacey…" Gasping again for breath, strength and restraint, she gripped onto his shoulders, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. "No…this isn't working…"

This stopped him short. His hand fell away as he met her eyes with a sharp frown, the concern in his expression bordering on mild dismay.

"What?"

She realized by the crack in his voice that he misunderstood, and wrongly assumed she was talking about the relationship in general.

"I meant…" Smiling, she still had to struggle to catch her breath. "The part about us trying to take it slow."

"Oh." He visibly relaxed; then a mischievous grin crept in. "Yeah…I suppose you're right about that," he conceded, softening with a chuckle.

She tried to fix her robe and, with awkward gentleness, he reached to help pull it up on her shoulder, both briefly avoiding any eye contact. If anyone walked in on them right now, it would probably look every bit like they just finished doing exactly what they didn't do.

"This is starting to get embarrassing," she sighed.

"I know," he agreed, brow arched. "If you could maybe stop attacking me every time I walk through the door…"

Her eyes went wide, mouth open in an expression of outrage and indignation, even as she tried not to laugh.

"Oh, yeah…right!" she scoffed. "Like I'm the one who needs to work on my impulse control."

"Admitting the problem is the first step to recovery."

Joey narrowed her eyes in playful menace. "Maybe you're right," she conceded. "Since I'm suddenly starting to question why I was ever attracted to you in the first place."

"Believe me, Potter, that's a question that's kept me up night for years…" Pacey chuckled, ducking his head.

She softened her smile to hear his familiar self-deprecating humor. She could probably give him a hundred different reasons why, if he really wanted to know.

Instead, she just sighed a little helplessly, tugging on the front of his shirt.

"What are we going to do here, Pace?"

He tilted his head as he eased in close again, glancing upstairs where Meg still napped. "Well…" he sighed, lifting a hand to smooth a loose strand of hair behind her ear before he traced a light caress down her neck to the hollow of her throat. "Since it seems we're only fighting a losing battle, how about we just go away for a couple of days? Maybe the weekend?"

"Right," she drawled softly, smirking even as he made her skin tingle with his touch. "Like that's really going to slow things down."

"Actually…" Pacey cleared his throat, smiling with thoughtful, squinted eyes. "I was thinking more along the lines of maybe giving in to the inevitable--or at least giving ourselves that option."

Joey made sure to maintain a level expression, alternately thrilled and terrified by the suggestion.

"Ah," she said.

"Ah…" Pacey repeated, playfully mimicking as one eyebrow went up on his grin.

Dragging her teeth over her bottom lip, still swollen from his kisses, she glanced down at the floor, fretting over both the tempting, blissful possibilities and the far less-enticing potentials for disaster.

It felt almost shamefully decadent to break the rules so soon, but then Joey remembered it wasn't really that wrong if they were the ones who made them. And where had waiting really got them before? What exactly were they waiting for?

"I've never left her overnight," she murmured, stalling.

He lifted a shoulder slightly to let it drop. "There's a first time for everything."

"I suppose."

"Hey, I don't like to be away from her anymore than you do," he added, "but it might be nice. Just me and you."

Joey had to admit that sounded more than just nice.

She sighed, feeling like she should at least mull it over more. "I know Bessie probably wouldn't mind taking her."

"Neither would Doug," Pacey offered easily, "if we needed them to."

She only held his gaze a beat, trying to restrain the full wide arc of her smile.

"So, what were you thinking?" she asked, feeling inspired to impulsivity all over again.

"Well," he sighed, lifting both eyebrows as his voice deepened suggestively, "there's a really cheap motel on Route 28, just about twenty minutes from here…"

"Pacey!" she gasped and tried not to laugh, scolding him as she gave his shoulder a little shove.

He chuckled, resuming his usual tone. "I was thinking of getting a boat," he said.

Joey paused, lines of doubt and skepticism creasing in her brow.

"You're going to buy a boat?"

"No, I was going to charter one," he countered with a faint smirk, then scoffed in playful indignation. "Damn…I just bought you a house, woman. What the hell else do you want from me?"

Narrowing her gaze in playful reproof, she only arched an eyebrow, studying him with a level grin as he snuck back in.

"Hmm…I'll have to get back to you on that," she sighed into the kiss, arms going around his neck.

Intrigued, Pacey murmured a sound of approval before he broke away from her lips.

"So what d'ya say?"

She smiled up at him, arms still looped around his shoulders, fingers playing with his short hair. "I say yes."

"Well, coincidentally enough," he said, leaning in to kiss her again, "that just happens to be my favorite answer…"

Pulling his truck into the driveway of the B&B, Pacey felt a small rise inside his chest, his mood buoyant despite the fact that he wasn't yet out on the water. But soon enough he would be and--even better--he'd be out there with her.

He pulled into to park and cut the engine before reaching for his packed duffel bag on the seat, tossing it in back to make room. Hopping out of the truck, he made it across the yard in a few long strides and took the porch steps two at a time. He grinned when Joey met him at the screen door.

"Come on in…I'm almost ready."

She ducked her head almost shyly as he slipped past her to enter, then hurried away to the bathroom down the hall. Bessie was already coming to the kitchen doorway to greet him, and Meg was there by the table, sitting in her highchair, finger-painting with mashed sweet potatoes and rice cereal. She looked up to greet him with her beaming two-toothed grin.

"Da…" she said.

"Looks like you lucked out on the weather," Bessie noted. "It's supposed to be beautiful all weekend."

"Yeah," Pacey agreed, slightly and strangely out of breath. He'd been excited about the sailing trip since the moment he woke up, but seeing Joey in her khaki shorts, white tank and Keds almost sent it through the roof. It now felt like there was a rubber ball bouncing around inside his chest, and he could barely contain his energy.

He took it out on Meg, who was always an appreciative recipient, kissing her and tickling her in the highchair until she was red-faced and sliding down in her seat, half drunk on bubbly baby laughter. She finally pushed at his face with her chubby hand as if to say 'Daddy…enough', smearing his cheek with the sweet potato mash as she did so.

Pacey relented in his tickles, easing back to swipe some off on the tip of his finger and stick in his mouth. He then murmured as if sampling a rare delicacy--which only sent Meg back into hiccups of laughter again as she watched him with bright blueberry eyes.

"One of the guests noted she seemed to have a highly developed sense of humor for an infant," Bessie informed her with that trademark wry sarcasm. "I told her we were still trying to figure out where that could've come from."

Chuckling, he grabbed a napkin off the table to clean his face, his gaze lingering on the hall, practically holding his breath in eager anticipation.

Weather or not, he couldn't think of a more perfect way to spend the weekend. Of course, two days holed up in a cave in a barren, desolate wilderness under a deluge of freezing rain and hail, would sound pretty perfect as long as he had Joey there with him.

"Where are you going out of?" Bessie asked, resuming her tasks in the kitchen.

She was fairly nonchalant about the whole thing, reflecting pretty much the attitude of everyone around them. There was no scintillating buzz of gossip, no shocked sensations of scandalous surprise. In fact, it felt more like a collective sigh of relief went up all around. Pacey almost had to pause a few times to make sure they were still in Capeside.

"We're sailing out of Rock Harbor," he replied. "And then I have a mooring for the night just outside Wauwinet."

Bessie glanced at him with an arched brow. "How did you finagle that?"

Pacey only smiled, feigning an air of self-confidence. "Oh, I have my ways…"

The playful, cocky swagger instantly deserted him as Joey suddenly appeared in the kitchen, one stuffed canvas tote in hand and another slung over her shoulder.

"Hey, let me get those," he jumped to offer, obedient and as eager to please as a puppy dog.

They both kissed Meg goodbye twice, then again, and Joey went over some instructions as Bessie walked them to the door. She only listened with some faintly tolerant amusement, assuring her that everything would be fine.

Following them out, she watched while Pacey loaded Joey's bags in the truck and they both climbed in the front seat. Pulling her seatbelt around to fasten it as her older sister waved from the porch of the B&B, Joey shook her head with a wry smile.

"I suddenly feel like we're back in high school."

Only responding with a grin, Pacey reached for the key in the ignition. Joey shifted in her seat, turning partially to face him, blurting it right out.

"So…you do have protection right?"

Eyebrows lifting, he coughed, choking on a softly surprised chuckle.

"Now this feels like high school," he murmured with perfect deadpan humor.

Pushing her hair behind her ear, Joey's voice shot up on a tiny note of defensiveness. "Well, I realized we never really discussed it," she rushed to explain, "so I wasn't sure if you were aware of the fact that I'm not currently using birth control--we're going to be out there, on the water, and even though I'm still breastfeeding, it's not like that's reliable. And let's face it, it's not like we have the best odds when it comes to gambling with this kind of thing, so-"

Scratching at his chin, Pacey gently tried to interrupt. "Jo…um, Jo?"

She stopped finally, frowning. "Yeah?"

He held her gaze and smiled, lowering his voice with calm reassurance. "I've got it covered, okay?"

The worry lines creasing in her brow slowly receded, and she softened with a small, sheepish smile.

"Okay."

When they reached Rock Harbor, the blue water was glistening in the midmorning sun, and a light breeze ruffled across the surface of the ocean currents. Amidst ferries and seal watch tours and commercial fishing vessels, the small privately-owned charter company had an office right on the dock. And the owner just so happened to be one of the Icehouse's best customers.

Pacey saw his own excitement reflected in her brilliant brown eyes once they were boarded and readied for sail. It was a classic old Catalina sloop with a large salon and comfy main cabin, and even had a hot water shower in the main head. He wanted to make sure he provided her with every comfort.

"This is quite the boat," she noted, glancing around with her hands on her hips as he went to stow their gear. She smoothed her fingertips over the padded couch and peeked into the berth, but it didn't escape his attention that she quickly snatched her gaze back when it fell upon the bed, her cheeks turning pink. "Oh…and check this out."

Pacey emerged from the adjoining berth to see her in the galley, bent over by the small, boxy refrigerator holding open the door. Trying not to let his gaze linger on the tight curve of her shorts, or the long, slender muscles of her smoothly tanned thighs, he saw it was fully stocked with mini bottles of complimentary champagne.

"Well, that's gonna make my job that much easier," he noted with a sigh.

Rising back to stand, she dropped her mouth open to give his arm a small punch, mostly feigning offense.

"You're such a jerk," she laughed.

Pacey gently caught her wrist, pulling her in close so her body softly bumped against his.

"Maybe so…" he murmured, bowing his mouth to her lips. "But I'm a happy jerk, because I'm here with you."

He kissed her softly before pulling back with a smile--one that faded as soon as he noticed the uncertain, almost wounded shadows in her dark eyes.

"What's the matter?" he asked gently, touching his hand to her cheek in tender concern. Stroking the pad of his thumb against her soft skin, he sighed inwardly. "You know I'm kidding, right? And whatever we may have planned here, Jo, I meant what I just said. I really am just happy to be with you. I have no expectations for this weekend other than that, so-"

"No…" she cut him off quietly, shaking her head so his hand fell away. "It's not anything like that. I mean, I still want this weekend to be everything we planned it to be, Pace. It's just…it's what you said."

He furrowed his brow slightly, not quite following.

"You said something similar to me once before," she admitted with a reluctant sigh.

Somewhere inside him, understanding began to dawn. Although he was pressed to recall the exact time and place, having decided long ago that some things were better left forgotten, he was fairly certain he could remember the feeling.

"I guess…" he sighed and glanced away, glorious blue water shining through every port, hatch and window. "For every good memory that comes our way, we're bound to stumble across a bad one or two, eh?"

Joey nodded her head with a sad smile of acknowledgement.

He lifted both hands back to her face, tilting it up tenderly so she had to meet his eyes.

It wasn't that he understood her better now. Rather, it was that with a little wisdom and maturity he was better equipped to deal with that kind of understanding he always had. Pacey was aware it might be a case of 'two steps forward, one step back' from here on out, but this time around he was determined not to let these minor setbacks throw him off course. As long as it took, whatever it took, he intended to go the rest of the distance right by her side. And if that meant he had to pause and wait for her to catch up every so often, then so be it.

"But I'm not about to let them get in my way." He shook his head slowly, and a small smile lifted the corners of his mouth. He wanted to be careful not to overwhelm her with too much information too soon. "Not now…not for anything. This is too important to me, Jo. You're too important to me."

Joey lifted one hand, placing it atop his. Her touch was soft and smooth against his skin, the sweet gesture like a soothing balm, even if she still made his pulse jump.

"Then neither am I," she agreed. Though shaky, she seemed to remain firm in reassurance.

They motored slowly out of the busy harbor, bustling with so much activity at the height of the season, but it wasn't long until they were under full sail, riding the open waves. Joey didn't hesitate to jump right into place as his first mate, but after not too long it was apparent that she didn't quite have her sea legs back. But that was okay, too. Pacey kind of liked the fact she had to lean on him.

They spent the better part of the day out on the Sound, sun beating down, salt spray in their faces, the exhilaration of the wind surging them forward through the heaves and swells. They spotted the seals basking at Monomoy, waved to the t-shirted tourists crowded onto the island ferries--some red from the sun and others green from the waves--watching the arm of the Cape disappear in the foamy blue haze behind them until the bright, pretty shores of Nantucket loomed on the horizon up ahead.

Joey couldn't quite believe the spot he secured for them just outside the harbor, as private as it was picturesque. Again, Pacey happened to have the good fortune of serving one of the members of the island's most exclusive yacht club 'the best meal of his life' during race week one year, and the guy had been coming back every year since. Off to Newport, he hadn't even hesitated when Pacey inquired about his empty mooring this weekend.

Once tied and slowly drifting, however, they felt the full heat of the summer afternoon, even with the lovely sea breezes and even this close to five o'clock. Deciding on a quick dip, he shed his t-shirt and Joey slipped out of her tank top and shorts, both diving smoothly into the blue.

"The water is gorgeous!" she gasped, breaking the surface as she slicked her long hair back out of her eyes.

Treading his legs nearby, Pacey only spit out a small mouthful of salt water and smiled. She was wearing a dark blue bikini that firmly cupped her round breasts, giving her an even more sexy and voluptuous form.

When she spoke to him of the many benefits of nursing Meg, there seemed to be two she overlooked.

"What?" she asked, narrowing her eyes suspiciously, her arms fanning back and forth as she remained afloat.

His grin was the expression of innocence as he gave a slight shake of his head. "Nothing. I just like your bathing suit, that's all."

She responded with a smirk, shoving one hand forward in the water to send a dousing spray his way.

Pacey chuckled, trying to turn away from the splash. "Hey, you've gotta learn to accept a compliment, Potter!" he laughed and sputtered, swiping at his face.

"Oh, do I?" she said lightly, turning away to make smooth strokes towards the ladder.

"It's actually starting to border on impolite," he called after her, still chuckling to himself.

"And is that in your expert opinion?" she returned.

"See? Right there…" he laughed. "I could've easily been offended by that remark."

"Sorry…" Reaching the ladder, she paused to get a good grip before hoisting her long, slim body up out of the waves. "Next time I'll have to try harder."

Still grinning in amusement at all that familiar sarcasm, Pacey simply stayed where he was, enjoying the sights on this beautiful summer's day, most especially the sight of her sleek wet body--flawless, golden skin and glistening, tantalizing curves--now standing on the deck of the boat.

Smoothing her damp hair back off her face with both hands, her back arched just slightly to create a goddess-like silhouette against the shimmering sun, and the fullness of her ample breasts stood out in high relief against her newly-trim abdomen tapering down to the delicious curve of her waist. As always, her long legs seemed to go on forever, toned from her days running on the beach. Then she paused to tug the bottoms of her bikini down, cover the soft yet firm twin cheeks--as perfect in back as she was in front.

Pacey couldn't believe he was even considered worthy enough to get close to all that, and fully intended to worship her in any and every way he could. While he didn't want to rush anything, his body was feeling a little more impatient, suddenly caught in the grip of an aching, desperate need.

Finally, she tossed him a questioning glance.

"Aren't you coming out?" she asked.

Pacey, still treading water, deepened his voice in confidence. "Potter, trust me…after watching you climb that ladder? I come out of this water right now I'm in danger of offending not only you, but everyone in this harbor."

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head, but even from this distance he noticed her cheeks turn pink as she laughed.

"Well…then, I'm getting in the shower," she said, only a little flustered.

"Yeah, like that visual is really going to help," he muttered, sinking low in the waves before he drew in a deep mouthful of water to spit it out like a fountain.

Once back aboard, he gave her enough time and privacy to shower and dress, smiling when she reappeared on deck in a simple sleeveless cotton summer dress, her clean damp hair held back with her sunglasses and hanging down her back in pretty chestnut waves. Pacey took his usual six point five minutes to get ready, showered, dressed--and he even shaved.

They climbed up to the padded seats on the bow to relax and watch the sunset, enjoying some of the complimentary champagne. As the changing light played over her beautiful face until it seemed to glow from within, Pacey was finding it increasingly difficult to keep his hands to himself. He kept finding reasons to stroke her silky hair or perhaps smooth a caress over her sun-warmed skin. Anything more, however, he was afraid he wouldn't be able to stop himself.

They talked about nothing and yet, at the same time, everything. He was so happy and content to simply be in her presence, to have her all to himself, that for a moment Pacey actually forgot where they were or that they had reservations to keep.

He only had to call the launch service at the club and drop his friend's name, however, and they were out there to pick them up, ferrying them from the mooring over to the island. From there, it was a short walk up Straight Wharf to the romantic old seaside inn. Pacey appreciated the fact that even a five star restaurant on the island didn't frown upon casual attire, most--like him--strolling in right off their boats in khaki shorts and sail-weathered polo shirts to order the most expensive lobster dinner in the place.

The candlelit table was small, barely a deuce, but even so they drew their chairs so close together that their knees brushed underneath, and every so often his hand would find hers.

There was a time when Pacey only imagined it could be like this, ordinary yet extraordinary at the same time. He wanted nothing more than to take her out for romantic evenings, to spend his money on her whenever he could, watch her blush at his compliments and smile at his jokes (even under the mere pretense of amusement, delivered in the form of that wry, sardonic smirk). It was nothing different than what millions of other couples were doing everywhere on this same Saturday night, nothing unusual on the surface about a simple dinner date. Yet he didn't intend to take even a second of it for granted.

Because, the truth was, this wasn't just a simple date. This was his second chance, the one he thought he'd never get. He'd given up, he'd let go, and yet, by some miracle she came back into his life.

Pacey had no intention of letting go again.

"So, I have to say…" Smiling, she gently edged her dinner plate away and reached for her wineglass. "I wasn't sure how much I would remember out there. I don't even know the last time I went sailing. But, surprisingly enough, it kind of all came back to me."

"Yes, you definitely didn't forget how to work on that tan," he replied, trying not to grin.

"Hey!" Her eyes widened in mock indignation as she placed her wineglass down, obviously trying not to laugh. "I helped! Look…I even have a callus to prove it!"

Lifting her arm, she extended her wrist to show him a barely visible red spot on the heel on her palm where she must have been chafed by one of the lines.

"Aw…" Smiling in faint amusement, Pacey gently her wrist and brought her hand to his lips, giving it a tender kiss. "All better?" he asked, lifting his eyes.

As he met and held her gaze, with gentle deliberateness he traced her sensitive pulse point with the pad of thumb, stroking it until he felt her tremble under his touch. As Joey lips parted soundlessly, entranced, the flicker of heat in her warm brown eyes went much deeper than just a reflection of candlelight.

"Are you ready for me to take those out of your way?"

They sat back as he dropped her wrist, both smiling in mild embarrassment at the waiter, as if caught them in the act.

"Yes. Thank you," Pacey replied, clearing his throat as he straightened the napkin on his lap. "Everything was excellent."

"And can I interest you two in our dessert menu?"

Pacey glanced up again to meet her eyes in the candlelight.

"No," he said, the curve of her smile chasing his. "I think we're good. We'll just take a check whenever you're ready."

The waiter ducked out with a courteous nod of his head

"You know what I just realized?" Joey asked softly once they were alone again.

"What's that?" Pacey leaned his elbows on the table, giving her his undivided attention.

"We managed to go the entire night without once talking about the baby."

"Well, until now," he pointed out, comically arching one eyebrow.

"Oh…right." She winced a little and laughed, wrinkling her nose adorably. "Sorry."

"Hey, don't apologize…" Pacey chuckled as his eyes drifted over her. "That's one subject I don't think I could ever tire of. You know, I don't think I had any idea before…I mean, I know as a parent you're going to love your child." His voice softened, once again caught deep inside her gaze. "But I guess what I didn't realize is that you actually fall in love with them."

Once again, the moment stretched out between them, and Pacey could feel the soft thudding of his heart, wondering if she heard it, too. But then the waiter reappeared with their check and the spell was broken.

They walked back to the boat hand in hand, and once the launch got them out there, Pacey rummaged around in all the berth's storage compartments to come up with a few waterproof blankets stowed on board. He had brought along a couple of sleeping bags and got to work setting up the perfect spot for them on deck, piling one atop the other until it was almost as soft as a downy feather bed. It was too perfect a night to immediately retire below deck, and he wanted her to be comfortable, in every way possible.

She climbed up the companionway steps, having changed into a sweatshirt and shorts with the summery cool breeze off the water. She paused to smile when she saw what he'd done.

"I figured we should take advantage of this view of the stars," he said when she seemed to hesitate too long, hoping it she didn't think his plan was to take advantage of her.

If she planned to perhaps take advantage of him, however, that was just fine.

"No…it's nice," she rushed to assure him. "And I would love to. I just, um…I kind of had something I had to do first."

Pacey furrowed his brow, glancing around hesitantly to make sure that was still just ocean as far as they could see. She made it sound like she had some quick errand to run.

"Well, what are you gonna do?" he asked slowly.

She seemed even more hesitant, like she didn't want to say--which, in turn, only confused and concerned him even more.

"Jo?"

"I have to pump, okay?" she blurted it out with some mild exasperation and embarrassment. "I can't go over twenty-four hours without nursing and not pump. Otherwise, I'll be looking at an extremely uncomfortable night. I mean, you have no idea--right now they're so hard that…that…"

"I'll take your word for it," Pacey mumbled quickly, ducking his head as he held his hand up.

Her shoulders sagged a little and she smirked sadly. "And have I completely killed the mood now?"

"Killed it? No," he chuckled. "It's survived much worse."

She gave him a narrowed eye look of amusement before disappearing below. When she finally remerged above deck, Pacey met her with a grin. This time, she joined him immediately, smoothing a hand across the satiny nylon sleeping bag as she settled in to sit with a sigh.

"Well…hello there," he murmured. "You're back."

"I never really left."

Smiling, for right now Pacey chose to believe that was true. He lifted his hand to smooth a caress down the back of her hair, threading his fingers through the dark tresses.

It occurred to him it was the first part of her he was helpless to resist, constantly pulling at her long brown braided pigtails when he was no more than eight. Once or twice, caught committing the crime by a teacher, he'd have to spend his recess in the principal's office. But even that didn't deter him for long. Maybe Pacey should have known then that he'd be fighting this losing battle for the rest of his life. It was just too hard not to touch her.

"Do you want anything? There's still champagne."

"No, I'm good," she said, and although she drew her knees up and stuffed her hands into her sweatshirt pockets, she didn't hesitate to lean back into the crook of his waiting arm, resting a shoulder against his chest. "I'm really good."

"Are you sure you're not cold?" he murmured, lips pressed to her temple, sensing a slight shiver. "Because I brought along another sweatshirt." He was almost moving to get it, but she stopped him.

"No, no…that's okay. I was, but I'm not now."

Smiling, he happily settled back in, drawing her even closer into his warmth as he wrapped both arms around, nuzzling her silky hair to breathe her in. Then Joey leaned her head back on the front of his shoulder. He was never so happy to be someone's pillow.

"Is that the Big Dipper right above us?"

"Yep," he confirmed, glancing up. "Looks like it."

"And where's that one that looks like a big rectangle?"

"Orion?" Pacey arched an eyebrow as he traced a caress up and down her arm. "Around here, you probably won't get a good look at him until fall. He shows up when it's time to get your boat out of the water for the season."

She pulled a hand from her sweatshirt pocket to point. "So what's that one?"

"That's, um…I think that's Cassiopeia," Pacey said, tilting his head. It had been a long time since he had any reason to seek them out, and it felt a little like getting reacquainted with some old friends. "And that one right below it is Perseus. I know that."

"Perseus? What's his story?" Joey asked, cuddling back in even closer.

Pacey smile tugged, remembering how many nights that summer they'd pass away the time just like this. Sometimes he'd impress her with his actual knowledge, but most times he'd blend some humor into the myth, or just wing it and make up a story--something ridiculous, comical or maybe even gruesome--just to get her to laugh (or want to be held a little tighter, skittish kitten that she was).

This particular story, however, he kind of liked just the way it was.

"Perseus?" he began, narrowing his gaze thoughtfully as he pressed a soft kiss to her temple. "Um…he was actually kind of like the slacker of Greek mythology for while, until he got some motivation and went to chop off Medusa's head. But his story really begins after that, when he was sailing home and ended up rescuing this beautiful girl he found tied to the rocks, just as a sea serpent was about to have her for lunch."

"Nasty creatures…" she interjected with a sigh, but he heard her smile, too.

"Yeah, well…" he chuckled before continuing, "so he saves the girl, falls in love, and of course wants to marry her. Only he finds out--after selflessly risking his life--that she's already promised to another guy."

Joey shifted, glancing away from the stars to look at him. "Who?

"Eh, I dunno," Pacey shrugged, still gazing skyward. "Some jerk, no doubt."

"No doubt." Her slow smile contained her wry amusement. "So what does he do?"

"Well, this guy she was supposed to marry comes after him with an army, intending to claim his property. But lucky for Perseus, he remembers he's still carrying around Medusa's severed head."

"That is lucky."

"So he gets rid of the competition, gets the girl, but unfortunately turns out to be his own worst enemy and ends up fulfilling this sad prophecy in his hero career. Disillusioned and defeated," Pacey sighed for dramatic effect, "he gives it all up."

Joey sighed as well, her eyes back on the stars. "I guess that's why they call them tragedies, huh?"

"Actually," he murmured, lowering his gaze to a strand of her hair as he played with it, warm and content to be this close. As much as Joey Potter could do a number on his speeding, erratic heart rate, sometimes being with her, simply being in her presence, calmed him to his very soul. "I think Perseus gets the happiest ending of them all."

She looked at him again, curious, only half her face illuminated in moonlight. "How so?"

"Well…" Pacey scratched at his chin before gesturing with his hand. "Because what he does when he gives up the hero business is just settle down with Andromeda. They get a nice little place on the Mediterranean coast and go on to have like six kids together. And he remained with her, faithfully, until the day he died. So, really, in the end, she saved him." He pointed, matter-of-fact, to the sky. "That's her, right up there by his side."

Joey only continued to watch him, first in that way she used to do when she thought she'd caught him in some fabrication of the truth, but then her expression softened.

"I mean…what's better than that?" Clearing his throat slightly, suddenly feeling a little nervous under her watchful gaze, he glanced over. "After all, a guy can only slay so many dragons…"

His voice drifted off there, rendered temporarily speechless by all those stars reflected back at him in her eyes. One corner of her lips turned up in a faint smile, but Pacey noticed the starlight start to swim and shimmer in the liquid depths.

Her whisper was softer than the ocean breeze. "I never thought I'd be back here with you."

Pacey's lips parted, but with a hundred different and unexpected emotions suddenly crowding in to tighten his chest, all he could manage to get out was a choked, "I know."

"I'm sorry I get scared," she sighed. "I don't know why I do."

He nearly winced at the pain of regret he heard in her voice, and instinctively pulled her closer, as if to shield her from it, if he only could.

"You don't ever have to apologize for how you feel, Jo," he assured her softly, warming a caress up and down her bare leg. "Not to me."

She smiled and nodded her head a little in acknowledgement, retreating slightly behind her lowered lashes. When she pulled her other hand out from her sweatshirt pocket, Pacey didn't hesitate to take it in his, lacing their fingers together in a firm, strong weave before he leaned in to kiss her forehead.

"But I promise you this…" he murmured into the kiss. Pulling away to meet her eyes, he touched his hand to her chin to hold her there in his gaze. "I would never hurt you."

Joey's eyes searched his for a long moment.

"But what if I couldn't promise the same?" she finally asked. "Pacey…what if something happens where…what if I hurt you?"

The question, softly-spoken, hit him hard. For a moment, slightly taken aback, he really had no good response. What if she did hurt him again? He would've never thought she could keep such a secret from him as the pregnancy, and even though he now better understood, he didn't really forget how betrayed he felt at the time or how wrong he felt he had been about her. It had been the first time he ever really, truly doubted who she was to him.

And what if something, once again, caused her to push him away, or even to run? What if this time she took Meg with her? That wouldn't just hurt--it would kill him.

Pacey knew she was waiting on his answer, but suddenly there was doubt in the way. He realized, however, that he couldn't ask anything of her that he wasn't willing to give himself. So if he wanted her to put her faith in him, and trust in them, he had to be able to do the same.

"Like I said before…" he replied quietly, just a little shaky now. "Whatever happens, happens. We deal with it as it comes. All I'm asking right now is that you give it--give us--a chance."

"But don't you ever get scared?"

"Yes," he admitted softly, "all the time." Then he swallowed back the trepidation that had lodged itself in his throat. "But I just want to be with you, Jo. So, whatever you need…you just tell me what to do here."

She lowered her eyes, as if taking it all under consideration, and then:

"Kiss me?"

The softly whispered plea captured his heart, reclaiming it on the spot, and Pacey only nodded briefly before touching his lips to hers.

He kissed her slowly, tracing her lips with the tip of his tongue and then touching it to hers they parted on her sigh. Sliding a hand up into her hair, he broke away to trail warm kisses down the pulse points her neck, his thumb caressing the velvety softness of her cheek as he reveled in the tiny shivers that trembled trough her body.

It occurred to him then that this painful, driving need he'd felt for the last couple of weeks wasn't entirely centered on his own need for relief. Making, feeling--and watching--Joey Potter come was the kind of pure pleasure that he found more satisfying even than his own release. And it had been so long. Pacey ached to have the chance to do it again.

Even through the cottony bulk of her sweatshirt, his hand found its way to the soft swell of her breast. Tracing and caressing the curve in his palm, he brushed feather light touches over the hard peak of the nipple with the pad of his thumb. His mouth now feasting on her neck, he felt the reverberations of a softly frustrated whimper, the sensation most likely dulled by the layers of clothing she wore.

He brought his lips back to hers, murmuring softly into the kiss. "Are you any warmer now?"

"Yes…" she gasped, immediately moving to pull the sweatshirt up, stripping it off her body.

Pacey grinned, eyes creasing in warm amusement as he offered a hand to help, but then the deep blue nearly darkened to black as his hot gaze swept over her. She wore only a pale tank top with no bra underneath, and moonlight enhanced the shadow round curves, highlighting the tight peaks.

Letting the sweatshirt fall away, her arms went immediately to his neck, hooking him back in. And, willingly, he went.

Their kisses took on more heat and hunger, nipping at lips and capturing tongues in slow sucks. She curled her fingers into his shoulder, giving a hard, insistent grasp to his t-shirt. Without a word, Pacey eased away to tug it off. Coming back to her, he placed his hand flat against her quivering stomach, the strip of warm exposed skin like an electric current under his palm. He pushed the fabric up; then bowed his head.

Layering open-mouthed kisses across the flat expanse of her stomach, he dipped his tongue into her belly button before flattening it against her skin to lick his way up. Running her fingers through his short hair, Joey let out a few breathy, surprised gasps, as if each stroke of his tongue set off an entirely different sensation than the one before it.

Pacey murmured low in his throat as he finally reached her breast, nudging the tank top up with his nose as he planted soft kisses along the bottom curve, just a portion of the full mound exposed, pale in contrast to her golden tan. Feathering a warm breath across, he watched the peak tighten, hardening to poke through the cotton. He brought his hand up, sliding the tank top completely up, out of the way. His breath caught in his throat.

Joey was completely silent above, though her chest rose and fell with rapid, shaky breaths, enhancing the round, high curve of her creamy breast.

Wetting his lips, he lifted his eyes to hers. She gazed down at him from under sultry, hooded lashes, face flushed, her lips parted.

"Can I…I mean, is it okay?" he asked, tentative and unsure, though his husky voice was thick with wanting.

"Yes…" she hissed, practically begged. "God, please…yes."

Pacey needed no further urging, capturing the dark rosy bud on his tongue before closing his mouth around it. Sliding his hand up the slope of her back, he held her in place, swirling his tongue around the tight peak before teasing it with a light grazing of his teeth. Joey let out a soft cry, her hand cupping the back of his head close as she arched in offering. Pacey sucked softly, gently, tasting her on his tongue.

Releasing her, he pulled back slightly, gazing at her breast, now glistening in moonlight, with an awed kind of reverence. For so long, he had only let himself think of this as Meg's territory, like some scared ground. Then he glanced up to meet Joey's eyes, realizing there was a whole other place for him, just waiting to be found.

Leaning up to cup his hand to her cheek, he tenderly kissed her lips. It had been lingering in the back of his mind--an uncertain, an unknown and even, at times, a brief concern. But never in a million years would he have assumed it could be this intimate, or the connection to her that powerful, as if she had shared her body with him for the first time, all over again.

Joey brought her hands up to his face. "Mmm…" she murmured in a soft, sweet whisper, then she smiled. "Hey…did you shave?"

Pacey ducked his head with a chuckle--where, only a moment ago, he felt like he, inexplicably, might cry. Closing his eyes to enjoy her soft caress, he glanced back up to meet her eyes, grinning to have won her approval. One minute he could be a man driven so hotly by lust and desire, and in the next she could reduce him to this--a sweetly loving puppy dog, only eager to please and play.

His hand slid up her smooth shin to rest on her knee, and then, with a gently nudge, he eased her legs apart. Shifting to kneel in front of her in his rightful place of worship, he rubbed his newly clean shaven cheek over the inside of her thigh.

"Just for you," he murmured, before turning his head to plant a soft kiss there. "I'm concerned only with your comfort, Josephine. Because that's just the kind of guy I am. Speaking of which…" He reached to tug lightly on the cuffed hem of her gray jersey shorts. "Are you sure you're comfortable in these?"

"Very…thanks." The murmur of her soft and sexy laugh sent another hot surge through him.

"Really? You wouldn't rather them off?" Moving up, he curved his fingers into the waistband, knuckles grazing warm, toned skin. "Because I'm thinking off."

Her hips lifted on the word, allowing him to ease them down. His eyes traveled the length of her long, silky legs, silvery in the moonlight, breath catching in his throat. He intended to tease and tempt, to prolong the sweet torture of foreplay as long as possible, but Joey suddenly sat up straight to lean forward. He swallowed a choked groan to feel her small tongue slip out, teeth grazing one of his flat brown nipples, and then her hand went down between them.

When she smoothed a caress over his rigid erection, straining at his khaki shorts, her fingers closing around to grasp the thick width in a slow stroke, his whole body shook with desire. For a moment, he forgot how to breathe.

She pulled away slightly, blowing a strand of hair out of her dark, smoldering eyes, and silently met his gaze. Pacey didn't know if it was a challenge or a question or even an answer in there, but only a heartbeat later, he had her flat on her back.

He hooked a finger in the thin elastic, crooking it under the silk to pull her panties down and off--practically on the verge of tearing them off. The hot rush of his hands slid back up her legs, gliding and curving inside the silky skin of her thighs to ease them apart.

The soft scent of her settled over him as he moved in to kiss her there. Joey writhed on a breathy moan, her hips up lifting again, this time on instinct, and his tongue slipped out to taste her. His eyes nearly rolled back in his head; she was so wet and warm.

With her moans coming hard and fast, he ran his hands up the back of her trembling thighs, easing them over his shoulders. Hungrily, he dragged the tip of his tongue over her honeyed heat, tracing slow, wet circles around that tiny but highly-charged bud.

Joey was now panting helplessly, reaching down to grasp for him mindlessly as her hips rocked, thighs clenched, muscles contracting. Pacey plunged his tongue inside her again and again, but refused anything more that the lightest touch of pressure as he continued only to trace and tease. Sinking his tongue inside, so slow and deep, he finally brought his hand up to press his thumb to her pulsing center. Joey's body jerked as she cried out his name, all the heat rushing to meet his tongue.

Her breathing was soft and shallow as he slowly kissed his way back up, lips grazing the inside of her thigh, tongue tracing over the quivering muscles in her stomach, then moving higher to lick the round swell of her full breast. His hand, still between her legs, soothed her shattered nerves with slow, sweet caresses as he found her mouth with his.

As much as he wanted to take this slow--to take her slow--her whimpering breaths and hot, trembling body were driving him to the brink. He couldn't wait any more.

He sat back, propped on his knees as he unfastened his shorts, his eyes never once leaving her body, spread out before him, as he shoved them down. He retrieved the condom before tossing the shorts and his boxers aside, his hands almost shaking as he rolled it on. He was so hard it hurt.

Then he fell forward again, propped on his hands as he nudged her thighs apart with his knees. Grasping his sheathed erection, resisting the immediate and nearly overwhelming urge to impale himself inside her, he only brushed the head across her still moist and sensitized flesh, reveling in her soft, broken moan of pleasure.

Then he pressed forward and was there, where he once only dreamed of being.

Joey slid her arms around his shoulders, bracing her feet to arch her hips up on a breathy gasp when he finally pushed inside, her fingernails sinking into his skin. Pacey swallowed a soft groan, so thick and desperate on his tongue. It felt so right, like nothing else in his life, hot and perfect as those tight, wet silk walls clutched his throbbing, rigid erection. He ached to be part of her again, to find the parts of himself he'd lost inside her. Yet he stilled the thrusting instinct of his hips, experiencing almost the same sense of hesitation he had on their very first time.

It wasn't that he was met with that same wall of resistance. It was quite the opposite, in fact. He didn't think she had ever, in all their time together, been this wet and willing. But, where once he had been afraid of hurting her, Pacey suddenly realized he was the one afraid of being hurt.

Joey's eyes had closed the moment she felt him, but now she opened them slowly. As she gazed up at him, Pacey was suddenly brought back to the last time they'd been like this, him inside her, lost inside her eyes. It was the moment they made Meg.

Of course, at the time, they couldn't have known. They wouldn't even have allowed themselves to know. But they shared the deepest connection possible between two people that night.

And Pacey had a feeling they always would.

He smiled down at her, his heart in his eyes, and bowed his head to kiss her as he eased forward, sliding all the way inside.

They moved in rhythm but without words, just whispered gasps and moans as he sank inside her again and again, his mouth on her neck, breath hot on her skin. Joey's soft hands smoothed down his back, fingernails lightly raking; then grasping desperately at the muscles so taut with tension.

Reaching a hand down, Pacey curved it around her slender thigh, grasping it above the knee to guide her long leg around, hooking it at his waist. The shift allowed him even deeper, pushing deeper still, hot and hard inside her slick walls, tiny explosions coursing down his length on every thrust. With her breasts crushed to his chest, arms holding on around his neck, he ground his body down, circling his hips, feeling that incredible tightening; waves of ecstasy building as it pounded through his blood, beating inside his heart.

This was love, given life.

As he whispered her name, he felt her come before he heard her gasp, her body contracting around him. And Pacey knew without a doubt he was never meant to be with anyone else like this. A man takes a wife, a lover, a soul mate, but none of those things compared to what she was to him, and had always been. Until Joey, Pacey had never really known true love.

Perhaps that's why he'd never really fallen out of it.

It was already dark, moonlight rising, when they finally pulled back into the driveway of the B&B. After sleeping in late--and doing a few other things beside sleep--they took the launch back into 'Sconset for brunch, they spent a few leisurely hours on the island and the rest of the whole day out on the water, sailing around the Nantucket Sound.

Perhaps worn out from the day of sun, wind and waves, they were both sort of subdued on the ride home. But it wasn't an uncomfortable silence at all. For Joey, still feeling that pleasant ache of him between her legs, her heart quietly humming a beat faster inside her chest, it was simply reveling in the afterglow.

Glimpses of last night flashed through her memory, too many to process and assimilate right now, so Joey just let them come, reliving every sight and sensation. His body, lean and muscled, hard and long…the lovely, thrilling weight of him on top of her…the hard heat of him inside her. He pushed deeper than ever before, filling her with ecstasy again and again, until the world seemed to stop around them and she stilled…breathless, falling, plummeting over the edge and halfway to heaven.

Then she was there…drifting off to sleep on his chest, wrapped up so completely in his arms, rocked in the cradle of the ocean under a ceiling of starlight.

Pacey cut the engine but paused before he got out. Smiling over at her, he slung his arm over the back of the seat and leaned in for a slow, sweet kiss. Joey brought her hand up, her fingertips barely grazing the ticklish start of stubble on his cheek--but it was enough to want him all over again.

Weak with want, she had been helpless to do anything but let him love her last night. And now she couldn't wait for the chance to reciprocate.

Meg, as expected, was already fast asleep for the night, snuggled into the spare port-a-crib Bessie kept on hand at the B&B. They exchanged some hushed conversation with her, only briefly touching upon just how perfect their weekend had been, and then, as carefully as possible, Joey lifted the baby girl to make the transition to the car seat in Pacey's truck.

He followed her out after saying his goodbyes, the diaper bag slung over his shoulder, and then stepped forward to get the door for her.

"Want some help?" he offered, placing the diaper bag on the truck floor in front of the car seat.

With Meg cradled against her shoulder, Joey met his eyes with a small smile and shook her head.

"Thanks…I've got it."

"Okay," he smiled, too.

But before moving out of the way, he instead took a step closer. And, with one hand on the baby's back and the other gently cupping her hair, he whispered his lips over Meg's light brown hair before pressing them tenderly to her forehead, getting them both in one kiss. He lingered just briefly, and Joey closed her eyes on a quiet, shaky sigh.

When she climbed into the front seat next to him a moment later, Meg safely secured and still asleep in back, it already felt like they were home.

Back at the house, it was a repeat of the same, except this time a quietly and carefully orchestrated transition out of truck and into crib. Joey laid her down as gently as possible, holding a breath when Meg murmured and rolled. It was only to cuddle into her sleep position, however, and the baby barely even stirred.

Pacey stood back in the shadows with a smile, and then moved to the crib to brush a caress across her soft round cheek in a silent goodnight. Joey switched on the nightlight, and the stars twirled and floated across the ceiling with the moonbeams in tune to hushed, familiar lullabies. Leaving the room, she turned to wait for him, the rest of upstairs still cast in partial darkness.

He came out finally, smiling as he met her eyes.

"So I guess I'll be going…" he sighed with a shrug.

They stood, just two silhouettes in the moonlight, on the threshold of her bedroom doorway. Behind them, the softly illuminated starlight waltzed across the ceiling in time to lilting melodies.

"You don't have to," Joey replied softly, her eyes searching his face in the dark. "You could stay here tonight...with me."

She couldn't believe she actually managed to make the offer without hesitating or stumbling over her words. Despite her previous concerns and trepidation, now that they'd slept together it seemed silly that he shouldn't just spend the night. They were tired, it was getting late…and yet still, somehow, Joey knew it could never come down to a matter of practicality or convenience, not between them. Nothing was ever that simple, or without some deeper meaning.

Anxiously, she awaited his reply, trying to resist the urge to wring her hands, those nervous flutters in her stomach feeling like a flock of migrating birds returning south.

Pacey stepped closer and lifted his hand to brush her hair away from her face, smoothing his thumb over her cheek. "Mmm…you have no idea how much I would like that, Potter," he said, threading his finger through in a caress as his smiled softened, setting her at ease. "But, here's the thing…" Pausing, he seemed to draw in a deep sigh, almost as if preparing to confess some guilt. "I pretty much know what I want. And what I want…it pretty much comes down to you."

Her breath stilled in her throat, eyes huge and dark as she gazed up at him uncertainly.

"It's sort of become this constant theme in my life, I guess you could say," he continued with a gentle, soft chuckle, still tenderly stroking her hair. "I want to be here for Meg every day, and whatever she needs, she can count on me. But I want to be here for you, too. Because you're what I need," he said quietly, openly, holding her gaze. "Nothing has ever succeeded in replacing you, Jo…not in my heart or in my life. And I want to be the one who shares your life, in every way. I want to be the person you wake up with, and the one you come home to at the end of the day. So…" he sighed again, "when the time comes that I spend the night here, in your bed, with my daughter in the next room? I don't want it to be for the night. I want it to be forever. I want to know I'm there to stay."

Joey was speechless, completely unprepared to hear these kind of words from him. For so long, she scarcely dared to hope. Yet there it was, his heart, as big as ever, right out there on his sleeve. And it was there for her.

"And, I realize this is a lot to absorb right now," he said, reading her so accurately, like he always did, "and it kinda goes against everything else we talked about before, about taking our time and all that. I know you're probably not ready for that--that we're not ready for that--and it's too soon yet to consider. But whenever you are, if you ever are…could you just let me know?"

He smiled so gently, the question so sincere and unassuming, completely heartfelt, that all Joey could do was nod her head, tears standing in her eyes.

All of a sudden, she was confused, like the rules of the game had changed on her when she wasn't paying attention. And something inside her screamed out to give him an answer right now, and to grab onto this chance for happiness, the one she so desperately longed for. The paralyzing fear and doubt, as always, blocked her voice and bound her hands, rendering both useless.

One hot tear of frustration slipped past her lashes to splash to her cheek, scalding it, and she was helpless to even flinch. Lifting a hand to her face, Pacey caught the second one that threatened to fall on the pad of his thumb, soothing it away as he traced a soft caress across her cheek.

"This isn't some kind of reverse psychology, is it?" she asked, her voice wavering with emotion.

He chuckled, shaking his head slightly, but his eyes never left hers. "No."

Closing her eyes on a shaky sigh, she pressed her cheek into the palm of his hand. "I really want to be ready for all that, Pace," she whispered sadly.

"Well, that's good to know." Brushing her hair behind ear with a sigh, he lifted his other hand to cup her face and leaned in to kiss to her forehead. "But you're not," he murmured into it. "And that's okay, too…because I'm not going anywhere."

Drawing his lips away, he pulled back to meet her eyes.

"I have monthly inventory in the morning and then need to stay through the lunch shift," he said, almost like this was just any other night where they parted, "but how 'bout I bring over a couple of steaks tomorrow night, maybe a nice piece of fish, and we cook out the grill?"

Nodding her head, Joey managed a watery smile.

"I like fish."

"I like you." He kissed her one last time on the lips, soft and sure and sweet, before turning to go. "G'night, Jo."

Gazing after him longingly as he descended the stairs, Joey wrapped her arms around herself, left alone there in the dark.

"Goodnight, Pace," she whispered.

The lullabies slowed to an end, yet silently, somehow, the stars continued their dance.