Soundtrack to this chapter: “Somebody‘s Watching Me” by Rockwell (which is what Huey is quoting from and also the song that inspired this chapter), “I Don’t Care” by Apocalyptica featuring Adam Gontier, “I Don’t Care” by Fall Out Boy, “Love Song” by Sara Bareilles, and “Collide” by Howie Day.

Thatcher's Point of View

See there's this place in me where your fingerprints still rest, your kisses still linger,
and your whispers softly echo. It's the place where a part of you will forever be a part of me.
- Gretchen Kemp

I quickly glanced over my shoulder and scanned the sidewalk behind me. Two girls stared back at me, one in surprise and the other in interest. Behind them were a couple of the college's soccer players and behind them there were a few other students. Nothing out of the ordinary, which was just unsettling. I could've sworn that—

“Thatcher, are you okay?” Huey asked in a tone of voice that suggested that he thought he already knew the answer. And that that answer would be a no.

“I'm fine.” I muttered, turning away from the girls and back to my best friend. “I'm fine.” I repeated and then shook my head and sighed. “What were you talking about?”

“How you should drop the idea of being a lawyer.”

I groaned and walked a bit faster. “Why do you and my grandparents think that it's such a bad fit?”

“Because you don't like dealing with people. We can't figure out if you would be a good prosecutor because you'd love putting people away or if you'd be a good defense attorney because you like to help out people in need. Either way you have a problem with authority and we can't figure out why you'd want to be an authority figurehead or join the stupid little game. Think of it man; you'd be the judge's bitch.”

I rolled my eyes, “Maybe I've come to believe that we need authority figures in our lives.”

“And that's why you continue to mock our Latin professor?”

“He wouldn't let me test out of his class.”

“Because you came too late to do that.”

I shrugged, “He's the one that wanted me in his class - he asked for it.”

“At some point he's going to get tired of you and kick you out.”

“If he’d just let me test out, he wouldn’t have this problem.” I pointed out, subtly glancing over my shoulder.

“I think he was just ticked off by how effortlessly your rolled the language off your tongue. Or maybe he was mad that your first words in Latin were what I’m almost certain was a hex.”

I rolled my eyes, “I didn’t hex him.”

“You know he’s still blaming you for the fact that his car set on fire, his basement flooded, and for whatever happened with that squirrel.”

I bit back a smile and then shook my head, “You can’t blame me for any of that. Especially not the squirrel.”

“Yet you snickered when you heard about all of this.”

“I didn’t hex him!” I exclaimed and then whirled around once again to look at the people behind us. The girls both jumped and the soccer players glared at me. Grimacing, I turned back to find Huey looking at me with a raised eyebrow. I slightly shook my head and he rolled his eyes, turning away from me.

“My point is that you are awful to authority figures.” He went on, acting like I hadn’t just acted odd once again.

I sighed, “Then what do you suggest I do for the rest of my life, Huey?”

“Photography?”

“Be like my mother? No.”

“You're great at it.”

“It's a hobby.”

“One that you're great at.”

I shook my head and then quickly whirled around to the surprise of the girls and soccer players behind me once again. “What the hell, man?” One of the soccer players exclaimed and I sighed and turned back to my best friend, only to find him staring at me with that same questioning look.

“I'm fine.” I grumbled before he could ask.

“I don't think you are and why do you keep doing that?”

“Uh...” I trailed off and then sighed, “For the last week I've felt like someone's watching me.”

He smiled for a moment but then quickly smothered it. “You mean you always feel like somebody's watching you? That you have no privacy? Have you ever questioned whether it's just a dream?” His serious expression cracked and he grinned, “When you're in the shower are you afraid to wash your hair? Perhaps because you're afraid you'll open your eyes and find someone standing there?"

I glared at him, “This is why I haven't told you.”

He laughed and then shook his head quickly, “Sorry, sorry—I'm serious now.”

I rolled my eyes, “Well, two weird things have started in the last week: you setting me up on ten dates in seven days and the stalking.”

“The dates aren't that weird.”

“You've been blindsiding me with them.”

“Only because you won't agree to go on one.”

“Yet you are somehow not getting the message.” I muttered underneath my breath as we walked through the campus.

“Did you actually use your son to get out of a date?”

I frowned and then turned to look at him, “What do you mean?”

“Someone said you told her - ”

“ - I mentioned I had a son to one of them and she told me she didn’t think it was going to work out if I was already a father; some how my being a father was too much responsibility for her. I told another one that I needed to go pick up my son and she got on my case about already having a kid. Another one I told I was a father just to see how she’d react and she took off running.” I shrugged a shoulder and glanced down at my watch, “I’m not using my son, I’m just talking about him. It’s not my problem if he’s a turn off to a bunch of girls I have no interest in.”

Huey nodded, “Sorry, I’ll do better screening next time.”

“How about there isn’t a next time?” I asked, “That’s what I’d like to hear.”

“Thatcher - ”

“I’m not ready, Hue.” I said softly, adjusting my backpack on my shoulder. I was a work in progress, but it still made me feel uncomfortable talking about my feelings. Which I’d consider a normal guy thing if my best friend didn’t happen to be a guy that was raised with only women in his house (so was used to talking about his emotions) and my grandparents weren’t so overly affectionate.

Thankfully since Huey was such a person I didn’t have to ever go into detail about what I was feeling, he could usually fill in the blanks all by himself. I didn’t need to go into how I knew I was in some kind of limbo when it came to Nadine. I didn’t need to explain how I knew I needed to truly give her up and any hopes of getting back with her. I didn’t have to say that I knew I had to move on with my life because it was just getting ridiculous at this point. I didn’t have to explain how our relationship may have only lasted three months, but it was three months of my life when everything was right. When my only drama was whatever wacky schemes or ideas that Nadine came up with. When the only thing I had to worry about was where we would go on our dates. It was three months out of my life that didn’t resemble my usual life.

I should’ve known that it wouldn’t last.

“Hey, what to meet up at Grind after your class?” Huey asked and I quickly looked down at my watch again and muttered a word I no longer allowed myself to say in front of Matteo.

“See you there.” I called over my shoulder as I started to race across the grounds and towards the art building. For a moment I thought I saw someone running in my peripheral vision, but I didn’t have time to whirl around and confront anyone. If there was even anyone there. I rolled my eyes and slammed through the doors to the art building, thinking of how I had gone from being a guy that everyone was terrified of to a guy that was considered just as odd as Nadine. I personally blame the whole stalking thing, it has me on edge.

I pushed through the door to my classroom and cursed when I saw a name written in big block letters on the whiteboard. I glanced around the class quickly and for a moment thought about leaving before anyone noticed I was there. However, before I could move towards the door I had just entered, the professor turned and smiled at me.

“Thatcher! Than man of the hour.”

I grimaced and looked at the whiteboard again. Written in the professor’s handwriting was: THATCHER CASTELLUCCIO WOOD. I had a feeling I knew what was coming before he even started - and I wanted to point out the fact that that wasn’t my name. No offense to my grandparents, but I’m glad that their name wasn’t tacked on when Mom decided to fill out my birth certificate. Thatcher Giovanni Matteo Castelluccio Wood, that would just be pushing it. It’s bad enough that due to my great-grandfather’s nickname, I was named after profession that deals with wood. To the people that aren’t immediately terrified by me (and by that, I mean my grandparents’ friends), this is something to laugh at. Anyway, my name is bad enough without tacking another one onto it, but I knew why he felt the need to add it in. It is my mother who is the famous photographer/poet, going around the world winning awards for her work.

Sighing in resignation, I headed straight towards my seat and dropped my backpack on my ground. Already I was ready for the class to be over, something that I didn’t enjoy feeling when it came to my photography class. However, thanks to my professor’s obsession with my mother, it was a feeling that came frequently.

Suddenly I frowned, “Wait…” I whispered to myself, once again looking at the whiteboard. Why was it my name up there?

“Today class, we are starting a new unit. I want us to explore and discuss some of the works of uprising artists in the world of photography.”

No.

“We will start with a photographer that came out of nowhere and began to receive recognition for his work.” He went on and I swallowed hard, suddenly feeling panicked. I should’ve run when I had a chance.

“Some say that he has received that recognition because of who his mother is.”

Gee, thanks.

“Camellia Castelluccio Wood, is the name familiar to anyone?” He asked, glancing around the room, then he smiled at me as though we were sharing some private joke. “Anyone besides Thatcher Castelluccio Wood, that is?”

I hate him.

I may have been glaring at him as a few hands shot into the air and questioning gazes where shot my way. However, when he started calling on people I dropped my gaze and stared down at my hands.

“Camilla Castelluccio Wood is a really famous photographer.” Someone answered from my left and I rolled my eyes.

“She’s an amazing poet.”

“Doesn’t her husband write all those hard-hitting stories for The Times? I remember one of his articles on the conditions of AIDS in Africa.”

“Doesn’t she take amazing photos for him?”

“Yeah, but you should see her gallery - trust me here, it’s amazing.”

The pinkie nail on my right hand was longer than any of my other nails. I had been trying to give up biting my nails for awhile, but it just didn’t seem to be working for me. So as the room filled with facts about my parents, I started to bite down on said nail. I needed some kind of distraction, I hated hearing about my parents. I hated having parents that had fans, it was just odd. When speaking to fans of my parents, I can’t be honest about how I feel about them. I’m not allowed to have any other opinion than that my parents are as great as everyone thinks they are. I can’t ever challenge those opinions without being seen as a horrible person or a bad son.

I can’t tell them that while my parents were off taking the world by storm, they were ignoring their only child. I can’t tell them that they loved each other so much, with everything in their beings, that they didn’t have anything left over for their son. I can’t tell them that they may be wonderful at some things, but for the only thing that every mattered to me, they failed horribly. I’m not saying that I’d ever want to be that honest with anyone, I’m not saying that I want to unload these answers on people when they’re obviously expected just a superficial answer. I’m just acknowledging the fact that these are the things that I will never be able to say.

“What was it like to grow up with them?”

“Are you in this class because of your mother?”

“You must have traveled a ton. How great was that?”

“Could you get me your dad’s autograph?”

“What’s your favorite article of your father’s?”

“Was My Baby, My Love written about you?”

I removed my pinkie from my mouth and looked at the faces pointed in my direction. I had an audience. I hate having an audience, especially one for my parents. Two people that I haven’t seen in a little over four years. I opened my mouth to answer their questions, but then found that I didn’t want to lie for two people that hadn’t earned my loyalty. I don’t care that they are my parents, it would take more than bringing me into this world to make me lie for them. They may have brought me into this world, but they left me to fend for myself.

I sat up in my seat and turned to look up at the professor. “Why is my name on the board?” I asked, trying to divert their attention from me. Then I frowned when I realized that my way of divert their attention from me was by putting their attention on…well…me.

“Because you are the up and coming artist that I wish to discuss today.”

Yeah, this is going to be great.

-::-

“Hey Huey, I’m here at Grind and guess who I don’t see?” I hissed murderously into my cell phone, “I thought we agreed that you’d stop this.” I whispered, trying not to glare at the redhead that was wagging her fingers at me. “Huey, who the hell is Sandy Phillips and why does she think we’re on a date?!”

“Thatcher?”

I cursed in Italian and turned to try to smile at the girl. “Hey.” I murmured, attempting to smile and ending up grimacing at her.

“When Huey told me that you wanted to get together, I was really excited.” She blushed and smiled shyly up at me. “I think you’re an amazing photographer.”

I had opened my mouth to tell her that I had never asked about her - having no idea who she was until she had introduced herself - but I frowned at that comment. “Wait, what?”

She looked at me quizzically, “What are you questioning? The being excited part or the part were I think you are an amazing photographer?”

“Where’d you see my work?”

“Professor Hodge put some of your shots up on his wall.”

What is with that man’s obsession with me? First the insistent questioning, then I find out he looked me up and found the work that my mom had up in her galleries (shots from way back when I was still with them) and he found out about the competitions I took part in…jeez, and now this? I should have never trusted the damn man when he asked if he could keep some of my prints to look over.

“Is that against any rules?” I asked, honestly considering suing the man. Or dropping his class.

She laughed, her dark green eyes bright with mirth. “You’re funny.” She giggled, patting my shoulder.

“No, I’m not.” I replied quietly, looking at her at though she had lost her mind.

She bit her bottom lip to help quell her laughter and smiled at me. “I love your accent.”

I felt like groaning, but I held it in. Every single one of my blindsided dates said the same thing to me, it was getting old quick. Especially since they all seemed to think that my accent meant that I was the stereotypical Italian seen in movies the world over. They thought that I was going to spout poetry about how beautiful I found them extemporaneously, while gazing soulfully into their eyes. After which, I would then seduce them - because that sounds so much like me. Not to mention that it’s annoying that this is how Italians are viewed in the first place.

Before Nadine I didn’t talk that much to anyone in general, let alone girls, so the accent wasn’t that big a deal. Moreover, all the girls I talked to were pretty much terrified of me, so they wouldn’t have felt the need to stick around me any longer than they needed to. Therefore I wasn’t subjected to the stereotype. Then again, my accent didn’t used to be quite so thick before; living in Italy for a year did a number on my ability to suppress my accent. I’m also speaking Italian more than I did before, since it’s the language that Matteo best understands. Whatever the reason, I’ve been sounding a lot like I just stepped off the ship, instead of having lived many years within the United States.

“You sound like Prince Caspian.” She murmured, blushing.

“Who?”

“You know, Chronicles of Narnia?”

“Uh…” I trailed off, once again wishing that I had the kind of childhood that the rest of my peers had so I’d have some idea what they were talking about half the time. Or Huey, he was good at explaining the seeming non-sequiturs to me. “Right. Uh, Caspian.”

She raised an eyebrow, “You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”

“I… I need to make a call.” I murmured, turning away from her and pulling my phone out in one motion. I quickly dialed Huey’s number and rolled my eyes when it immediately switched over to voicemail. “I know you’re screening me,” I whispered in Spanglian, “and I can’t believe you’d turn on me like this. What the hell is your problem?” I took a deep breath and tried to stop sounding like I‘d kill him if I ever saw him again, “Huey, I think I need some space. I don’t think I should be around you for awhile.” I snapped my phone shut and turned back around to my date.

“Everything okay?” She asked, staring at me in slight confusion.

“No.” I murmured and then shoved my phone in my pocket. “Look, I know that Huey told you that I wanted to… The thing is…” I sighed and ran a hand through my hair, “I’m not ready to date quite yet.”

She frowned and then blew a lock of her red hair out of her eyes, “Oh.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Coming off of a bad relationship?”

I frowned, “Something like that.”

She nodded and smiled a small smile at me, “Well, let me know when you’re ready to date.” When I didn’t commit to that request, she turned on her heel and left the coffee house. Sighing, I slumped down into a booth and dropped my head on the table. I was becoming an expert at letting girls down. I was becoming an expert at disappointing people that were crazy enough to like me. Thanks to Huey. Thanks to Huey, I was getting to hurt a lot of women’s feelings and I was getting tired of it. I didn’t know what his deal was, but I was tired of it.

“Um…hey.”

My head jerked up and I found myself staring at Nadine. I frowned and then sat up straight and starred at her suspiciously, “Are you stalking me?”

“Huh?” She asked, staring at me with a look that could have been fear or hurt. It was hard to tell with her sometimes; she had so many expressions, but a lot of them could convey more than one emotion.

I shook my head and then dropped it back on the table. “Nothing. Hey.”

“Are you okay?”

No. I don’t know how to function when you’re around.

“I’m fine.”

“Really…um…have you been avoiding me lately?”

Yes.

“Hmmm?” I heard her sigh and then felt her foot lightly tap my knee under the table. I brought my head up and looked at her. “Why are you here?”

“I thought I’d grab something to drink.”

“You don’t like coffee.” I pointed out, sounding indifferent - my new tone of voice when talking to her. Not that I had been talking to her lately. Ever since that night at her house and then Skylar’s party, I’d been trying to put as much space between us as possible. I had meant what I said when I told her that I was trying to be her friend. But since she couldn’t act platonic around me, I had decided that the best course of action was to leave her alone. I’m not going to be the other man, I refuse to be the guy that breaks a couple up. Even such a mismatched pair as Skylar and Nadine. A couple that shouldn’t exist, for all I’m concerned, and not just because I’m bias.

Well…mostly because I’m bias. I hate him. There is no way to get around that, I hate him. I hate the way he treats people, I hate the way he talks, I hate the way he’s tried to make my life a living Hell since the moment I came to town, and I hate the way he went after Nadine the second I was out of the picture - actually, even when I was still in the picture. But what I hate the most about him is the idea of him kissing her. I hate the thought of him having any kind of intimacy with her, I hate that he is who she spends her time with, I hate that she’s with him. I hate that I’m so jealous of him.

Actually, I hate that I’m jealous, period.

Jerking up in my seat I rubbed my face roughly and stared at my ex-girlfriend in what I hoped was a completely platonic way. As long as I was detached and indifferent in my treatment of her, I had some control of my actions. Kind of. If she so much as touched my hand there was a chance that I’d start kissing her, so perhaps my control isn’t as great as I’d like to believe.

“I’ve actually come to like it.” She murmured, her eyes shifting from side to side.

“You’re lying.” I intoned.

She sighed and blew her bangs out of her eyes, “Okay, perhaps I haven’t come to like coffee, but I’m trying - ” She trailed off when I reached across the table and tucked her hair behind her ear. She stared at me in surprise and her bangs fell right back to where they had been. For a moment I contemplated touching her hair again, but I knew that I’d like it too much. And that that would lead to me doing other things that I liked too much. Things that platonic people didn’t do to each other.

I quickly climbed to my feet, “I should go.”

“Wait!” She exclaimed, climbing to her feet as well. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“About what?” I asked, trying to ignore the warmth that had spread through me from touching her. I slowly closed my face off, keeping any emotion from it but indifference. I didn’t want her to know how much I still wanted her, I didn’t want her to know how much it hurt to try to be her friend. I figured that as long as one of us believed I was over her, we could be friends. So my job was to convince her that she didn’t mean anything to me anymore. I’ve spent my whole life keeping to myself and convincing people that I’m okay or that I don’t want or need their help, but convincing Nadine? Easily the hardest acting I’ve ever done.

She took a deep breath and then stood a little straighter, “I want to be your friend.”

“Yeah, you’ve said that already.” I murmured, discreetly glancing at my watch. “So we’re friends.”

“It’s that easy, huh?” She asked and I glanced up at her to see the hurt in her eyes. She immediately smiled when she saw me looking at her, trying to mask her hurt, but she wasn’t as practiced at hiding her emotions as I was. The hurt was there and it made me feel horrible; an emotion that I was beginning to equate to being around Nadine.

“If we can both manage to actually treat each other like friends, than yeah.”

She nodded her head and turned away from me. “So, as friends…” She trailed off and then cleared her throat and tried again, “As friends, do you want to go watch a movie tonight?”

I frowned, “That sounds like a date.”

“I go to the movies with Huey all the time.” She said.

“We have a history with movies.” I murmured, still sounding as unemotional as possible. I was just stating a fact, not something I thought about often. Not something that I missed. Or at least that’s what I wanted her to think.

Hurt filled her eyes again at my tone. “No, we have a history with movies and your couch. This is a public thing. There’s a new movie that came out based on a book I read awhile ago and I was wondering if you wanted to come. If not I could ask Angie, I guess. I just…I just wanted to give this friendship a try.”

I was silent for a moment but then I sighed: I had just written Huey off for awhile, I could use the distraction. “Sure.”

She smiled tentatively, “I’ll see you at the theater at eight then.” She said softly and then turned and walked towards the counter to order something to drink. I watched her as she slid money across the surface to the barista and then smiled sadly.

“I’m not over you.” I whispered softly and then shook my head, “I’m turning into a freak that talks to himself in public, though.” Sighing, I turned away from her and walked out of the coffee house.

-::-

“Okay Daddy, do you understand now?”

I frowned, “No, not really.”

Matte sighed and turned to face me once more, “Okay, I’ll take this slow: he lives in a pineapple under the sea - ”

“But why? How is the pineapple surviving submersed in salt water? Why hasn’t it drifted away? Is it anchored somehow - ”

“Daddy.”

“Right,” I nodded, “sorry.”

He gave me a look and then began again. “He lives in a pineapple under the sea and he has a pet snail - ”

“ - Which is somehow surviving in salt water.”

“ - and his best friend is Patrick.”

“The starfish in swimming trunks.”

“Yes, and then there’s Sally - ”

“Why is there a squirrel under water anyway? What’s with the spacesuit? Where does she get her oxygen?”

“Her house has air.”

“From what supply? How’d she manage to get it down to ‘under the sea’? How did she get under the sea in the first - ”

“Daddy.”

“Sorry, sorry.”

He shot me a skeptical look, “Are you done?”

I was silent for a moment and then almost exploded with questions. “Why does he wear pants? Does he have spongy equipment? Why are his pants square? How - ”

“Daddy, I think you should call Zio Huey.”

“We aren’t talking at the moment.”

He stared at me silently for a moment and then nodded, “I know.” He leaned over and patted my shoulder, “I think Sponge Bob may be a bit too much for you.”

“It’s for chi - uh…young adults.”

“And you still don’t get it.”

“There are just too many things that don’t add up.”

“Daddy, it’s a cartoon.”

I sighed and glanced at my watch, “I have to leave pretty soon. Are you sure that you’re okay with me leaving? If you want me to I’ll stay home with you. We can watch Sponge Bob and that show with the girl that sings.”

“Hannah Montana?”

“Y…yeah.”

He smiled and snuggled down closer to my side. “Daddy, I think you should go.” He looked up at me with wide, innocent eyes. “Nonna and Nonno say that you have to close this.”

I quirked an eyebrow, “Close?” I murmured, thinking it over and then smiled. “Oh, closure. Yeah, I guess they’re right.”

“I love you Daddy and if closing makes you happy, I want you to close.”

I ruffled his hair and then back against the couch, “But what if I don’t really want to close?” I asked softly, “What if I really want to open up?”

“Will that make you happy?” He asked, staring back up at me.

“I…don’t know… Maybe.”

“Shouldn’t you know?”

“It’s hard.” I sighed, “When girls come into your life, it gets hard.”

“I don’t understand.”

I frowned at Sponge Bob as he chased after jellyfish with what looked like a butterfly net and then turned back to my son. “Before I let her into my life, I didn’t even realize how lonely I was.”

“Why were you lonely?”

“Because I didn’t have you in my life. I didn’t know… I thought I was all by myself, but then people started to prove to me that I wasn’t. Nadine was one of those people…before her I didn’t know what it felt like to really love someone.” I sighed and glanced down into his eyes, “Then you came into my life and I realized that there was a whole other kind of love in the world.”

He smiled up at me and wrapped me in a hug, “I love you too, Daddy.”

I hugged Matteo back and closed my eyes. I’m not the kind of guy that can say ‘I love you’ easily, but I can find ways to tell my son so every day. I never want him to grow up wondering if I ever loved him. I never wanted him to think that I would be able to get along without him. I may not be able to offer him the most normal of childhoods, but I can at least let him know that I love him with everything I have.

I slowly let go of him and he poked my nose, “Have fun at the movie.” He said with a smile, “And I’ll watch Sponge Bob in peace.”

I clutched at my heart like he had wounded me and then hopped over the side of the couch and headed for the front door. “Love you.” I called over my shoulder and smiled when I heard him echo my words back at me. After calling out my goodbyes to my grandparents, I walked out of my door and straight into Huey.

“Hey.” I murmured, surprised.

“I got your message.” He murmured, sounding a little funny. “So you need a little space, huh?”

I raised an eyebrow, “Well…yeah. Huey - ”

“And you felt the need to leave this news on my voicemail? Couldn’t come and say it to my face?”

“…Huey?”

“That’s just wrong, Thatcher.”

“Huey, are you okay?”

“I‘m fine.” He practically snarled.

“Um, okay.”

“Fine.” He bit out, “How much space do you need?”

I stared at him silently for a moment and then cleared my throat. “I don’t…um…” I struggled for a moment and then stared at him helplessly, not really understanding why he was acting so weird. I was too confused to actually be angry at him. “Is there something wrong?”

He stared at me silently for a moment and then turned and walked away, “Don’t be ridiculous, Thatcher.” He called over his shoulder and disappeared into the night. I watched him walk away and then shook my head.

“Okay, that was weird.” I muttered to myself as I headed for my car. However, as I climbed into the driver’s seat, I had a feeling it wasn’t near as weird as going on a date with my ex.

A/N: I am so, so, so sorry for being MIA for so long. I’ve been going through a lot of stuff lately and it really screwed with me. Not only did I never feel like I never had any time to write, I didn’t feel like I could write anything worth reading. There were times I considered forcing a chapter out, but all that left me with was a million starts to all of my stories. Sorry about that; but my life is finally being to settle down again, I feel like I can breathe again - and the first thing I did was sit down and start in on my stories. I hope you like this chapter and thank you for understanding and not pressuring me - I really appreciate it. And a huge thank you to those who emailed me to let me know that you cared - that really meant a lot to me. :^) Thanks again!