Chapter 1

 

                Meghan pushed the strand of hair behind her ear, annoyed it had gotten away from the French twist where she’d placed it.  The brown curl fell back against her cheek.  She tried to blow it away while letting her fingers fly over the keyboard before her, but the curl wasn’t moving.  To make matters worse, she had to deal with the man beside her who seemed intent on getting on her last nerve that day.

                “Come on Megs . . .  please . . .  I’ll love you forever.”  He pleaded, his face mere inches from her own.  The man had absolutely no respect for personal space.  Meghan let out another sigh.

                “No, now just stop.  I’m trying to work here.”  She fumbled over the keys as she tried to get rid of him and had to press the backspace key a few times before the error was completely cleared.

                “You’re no fun at all.”  He said, letting his body fall back against the couch on which he was sitting.  It wasn’t the most comfortable piece of furniture in the world, but it would only have to do for the two days he was in town, therefore he didn’t see any point in complaining.

                “That’s right, I’m not.”  She didn’t seem fazed at all by his insult and her fingers simply kept flying over the keys as if nothing had been said at all.

                “Alright then, as your boss I demand that you do it.”  He sounded so serious that Meghan couldn’t help the small smile that came to her lips.  She was able however to keep it small enough for him not to notice.  If he saw her smile, it would be the end of any possibility she had to escape the situation.

                “Look, Chris, I’m serious. I have to get this done.  There’s no way that I can put everything on hold to play a stupid video game with you.”  She misspelled something again as she concentrated on the words she was speaking, and the sigh she let escape from her lips this time was much louder than the previous one.

                “Well what are you doing?” Chris Kirkpatrick asked as he moved closer to her in an attempt to see what was appearing on the screen before her.

                “I’m writing a memo inviting employees to a meeting concerning the future of the company,” she stated as the eight last words of the sentence she’d spoken popped up on the screen, fitting perfectly within the paragraph she just happened to be writing.

                “Ah!  You’re always working.”   He let out a frustrated groan.  “Your boss is like a slave driver or something.”

                “Yes you are,” she easily agreed, her eyes still glued to the screen before her.

                “You weren’t supposed to agree there.  You were supposed to disagree and say that I was a great boss that you loved working for and there’s no one else that you would rather be working for.”  She remained silent at his answer and he started to worry that she was either mad at him or simply going to ignore him until he left her alone with her work.  His head fell against her shoulder and he pouted despite the fact that he had outgrown the act a long time ago.  “Am I really a slave driver Megs?”

                “Yes.”  The answer was short, curt and to the point.  He didn’t have the first clue as to whether she was serious or only joking.

                “Megs?” he simply asked, not sure how he was suppose to formulate any other question.

                “What! I’m a bad liar.”  Meghan’s eyes stayed glued to the screen a little longer until she finally realised that Chris was still staring at her, and this time with a pathetically lost puppy dog face.  “I’m just kidding.  You’re really-”

                Her thought was interrupted by the ringing of a cell phone.  Chris cursed under his breath at the interrupting, he did want to know what Meghan thought he “really” was.  She didn’t move now as her fingers concentrated once again on the keyboard before her. Chris didn’t think the ring tone was his, but he checked his cell that was nearby anyway just to be certain he wouldn’t miss any calls that had the potential of being important.  Nope.  Wasn’t him.

                “Um, Megs, I think it’s yours.”  He pointed to her cell phone that had been laying next to the laptop for emphasis.  She let out a huge sigh as she reached for the small piece of technology.              “Who the . . .  Nobody ever calls me on this thing except for you.” She searched the keys a few seconds, proving that she truly did only rarely use the telephone, until she finally found the button that would allow her to talk to whoever had disrupted her working.  She mumbled some kind of greeting that Chris tried not to eavesdrop on.

                His eyes instead scanned the screen on the table.  He didn’t really feel the need to go over Meghan’s work, he knew that she could handle anything he threw at her, but he needed something to stop him from listening to her conversation.  He was unbelievably curious and he didn’t want to give in to the urge to find out who was calling her on a phone she barely knew how to answer despite the fact that he dialled the number at least three times a day . . .  and that was when they were both on tour together.

                All hopes of ignoring her conversation were shattered however, when Meghan popped out of her seat and practically yelled to the person on the other line a resounding, “what!”  Chris, unsure of what was wrong, jumped up next to her and immediately reached his hand out to touch some part of her.  His hand made contact with her shoulder and instead of the blow he was sure his shoulder would receive for interrupting the call, he felt Meghan lean into the touch, almost like she wanted to get closer to him.  On instinct, he let his fingers lower and wrap around her biceps, pulling her closer to him.  She moved with the tug until her head was brushing against his own shoulder and his arm could wrap around her.

                This was new.  Chris had hired Meghan as a half assistant, half Fuman Skeeto middleman two years back.  Even during the break, her work had not only been needed but also considered by him as perfect.  The problem was that about three months after he’d hired her, Chris realised that he was falling, and falling hard for the girl who was only three inches shorter than himself. He’d never had the courage to simply come out and tell her the truth about his feelings, too afraid that she would either take the declaration badly and accuse him of sexual harassment, though he doubted she would, or feel so uncomfortable with him after the announcement that she would feel the need to quit.  He was very afraid of the last one.  So instead, he played the part he’d always been assigned and casually joked about his feelings, flirting with her endlessly and letting her believe that it was all in good fun. None of that mattered now though, because Meghan had just ended her phone call, yet was still leaning against Chris, staring out in space in what appeared to be shock.

                “Megs?  Meghan?  Hey, are you alright?”  He’d been curious when he first called her name, but when he saw that she wasn’t answering, that she wasn’t even actually registering the fact that he was still in the same room, he truly became worried.  Chris had never seen anyone look like their entire world had just crumpled, but that was exactly the impression Meghan was giving him.  What was he supposed to do?  He pulled her tighter against him with his left hand, and let the right one smooth her hair against her head.  “Come on Megs, you’re scaring me.”

                He wasn’t kidding.  The idea that she might suddenly be catatonic sprang to his mind and he had to stifle the moan of worry that wanted to pass through his lips. Then she moved, but not like he expected her to.  Chris expected her to stiffen, to move away, to protest that she was fine, to swat his hand away from her hair . . .  the reaction he did get was entirely different.  Meghan’s body shook once, then twice and finally began to tremble uncontrollably as tears coursed down her cheeks.  She was crying against him.  No, to be more accurate, she was sobbing against him.

                Chris tried to move them closer to the couch, but she clung to him and stopped any movement he had in mind.  Her hands gripped his shirt and pulled him closer to her so her face could bury itself in the material.  Chris contemplated the position for a few seconds.  He didn’t want to stay standing in the middle of the room.  Clearly, judging by the way her body was wracking with every sob, she would quickly tire and then probably be unable to support her own body.  The idea that her knees would just give in and she would slither to the floor was somehow unquestionable to him.  Chris’ theory was proved right when her legs buckled beneath her and she tightened her grip on his shirt to stay in a somewhat upright position.

                He didn’t hesitate to simply bend a little with her, wrap one arm around her legs and the other behind her back, then lift her entirely from the ground.  She was tiny enough and the movement caused him absolutely no pain.  Chris brought her back to the couch they had been sharing a few minutes early as her fingers continued to claw at the cotton of his green shirt. When he finally sat himself down, she scuttled closer to him, and he didn’t hesitate to simply throw her legs over his own and let her sit on his lap. She cried against him as his fingers wove through her hair and his mouth whispered words of encouragement against her ear.  He had absolutely no idea what was going on, but whatever it was, he would be there to see her through it.

 

                “Well what about this shirt?”  JC asked, looking critically at the red garment in front of him.  It wasn’t the impossibly loud colour that was bothering him, it was the collar that was designed to look ripped, as did the ends where sleeves should have begun.  He liked the shirt there was no doubt about that, but he simply wasn’t sure if it was appropriate enough for the function he was about to attend.  That was the good thing about black tie events, at least you knew what kind of clothing was expected of you.  When casual attire was allowed, fashion was always a tricky line to walk.

                “Josh, I can’t really tell over the phone, you know what I mean?”  He let the garment fall against the mattress of the bed as he grabbed the cell phone that his shoulder had been cradling and pressed it more firmly against his ear.

                “I know,” he answered,  “I just really want you to be here.  God Tee, are you sure you can’t come down for this thing?”

                “You know I can’t Josh.  If I could, I would be on the first plane down, but I have to work.  There’s nothing I can do about it.”  He couldn’t see her, but he was quite sure she was chewing on her bottom lip.  She always did when questions of time spent together came up.  He couldn’t blame her though, the subject made him nervous as well.  It was, after all, the reason for their first break up, their only break up so far and he hoped their only break up ever.  Yet he couldn’t help himself from being selfish.

                “You could if you quit,” he mumbled to himself.  It was only after he heard the sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line that he realised she had heard him.  He hadn’t meant for that.  They were doing so well and he had to go . . .

                “No, I couldn’t,” she immediately answered.  “I have these things called bills, and I need this stuff called food.  There’s no way I could quit my job JC.”

                He flinched.  He knew as soon as the comment had left his mouth that it wouldn’t make a good impression and the second he heard the nickname, the name she refused to use for him most of the time, he understood just how much trouble he was in. Unfortunately, he’d had a crappy practice that day, had most certainly not gotten his fair share of sleep and was still pretty depressed over the fact that she couldn’t attend this little gala thing with him.  He understood that it would do more harm than good, but there was no stopping his next comment.

                “Like I couldn’t take care of you if you quit.” He was expecting her to yell at him, he was expecting her to get mad, he was expecting her to hang up.  He wasn’t expecting the silence that hung between them for those ten seconds that she processed his statement.  Finally, perhaps after the shock of what he had just said wore off, she spoke again.

                “Wear the black shirt with silver writing.”  And then she was gone.  The voice was no longer on the line, and the need to goad her on he had been feeling disappeared.  He hadn’t truly wanted to make her mad, it was just his bad mood that was spreading.  Misery loved company, right?

                JC knew what the comment would do to her however.  Christalee, the girl he had been dating a year now if you didn’t count their little one month separation three months in, did not like the idea of someone taking care of her.  Her father had done it for her mother, but had always rubbed it in the family’s face.  If he wanted something, he simply reminded everyone that he was the one who provided for them.  If he was trying to justify his actions, he’d talk about the fact that they did nothing and he took care of everything.  Even when Christalee’s mother found out that her husband had quite a few mistresses on the side, the man had insisted that as long as their family was being fed, sheltered and clothed, she had nothing to complain about.  Christalee’s mother always finished by agreeing, not having the slightest clue of where she would begin if she had to support herself.

                The first time JC had suggested that Christalee take an extended absence from work and simply move in with him for a while, he was completely perplexed by her reaction.  She simply refused, adamant that she wouldn’t change her mind on the matter, ever.  JC, confusing her refusal for some kind of sign that she didn’t want to move in with him, started to complain that she never made enough time for him, fully aware that his schedule was as much to blame as her resistance to drop everything and be with him.  After countless fights, many of them over the phone and many more leading to Christalee crying herself to sleep unbeknownst to JC, the couple broke up.

                It was only after three weeks, when they happened to run into each other at some random charity event, that they shared words.  He’d complimented her dress, shocked to see her suddenly after such a lapse of time, then asked her what brought her there.  She hadn’t even had time to answer before his arms were around her, pulling her against him where only she could hear the words of apology, though JC didn’t quite know the extent of what he was apologising for, in her ear.  They couldn’t seem to let the other out of sight for the rest of the night.

                When she made her exit, he followed her.  He was only a few steps behind her, and by the time she reached the cab she was going to take - it wasn’t like she was a celebrity who’d been required to go through a tediously public entry, she could go with simple - he was in front of her, holding the door open.  She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to think of that, but still didn’t complain when he slid next to her on the seat.  They had talked for hours that night, then tried to spend the rest of the time until dawn gazing at each other, but had fallen asleep in each others arms instead, bodies intertwined on what Christalee thanked God was a big couch.

                They’d been doing good since then.  JC was at a loss to explain it, but he had so far managed to keep his foot out of his mouth.  Until now that is.  The worse part was, he knew there wasn’t much he could do about the situation.  Christalee would never accept an apology over the phone seconds after his gaff and there was no way he could talk to her face to face when they were more than a few states apart. 

                And the truth of the matter was, JC didn’t want to apologise.  He fully understood Christalee’s need for independence and how frightened she was at the prospect that she would become too reliant on him, but that was something they could work on.  There had to be a middle ground somewhere and JC refused to believe that it was for them to be so far apart at all times.

                He let the shirt he was holding fall to the mattress of the bed, no longer caring what he was going to wear for the function.  He could go naked at this point and wouldn’t care who saw.  Christalee was mad at him and he could already picture a second break up in the works.  He had to fix this somehow, though he didn’t have the first clue about how that could be done.

 

                Thirty-seven.  That would be the number of times the person in the next room, someone from their crew though he wasn’t quite sure who, had opened or closed the door to their room.  Lance would know too.  He had been sitting on his appointed bed for three hours now, doing absolutely nothing.  Well, alright, that wasn’t exactly true.  He’d been staring off in space, he’d been avoiding thinking about things he didn’t want to think about and he’d been counting the number of times the door to the room next to him slammed shut. Not the most productive afternoon he’d ever spent, but it was all he wanted to do.

                Lance knew all too well that there were things he should be doing right now.  He should be working on some FreeLance paperwork.  He should be unpacking his clothes since they had quite a few days in New York this time around.  He should be getting something to eat.  He should be doing a lot of things.  None of them sounded appealing however. What sounded appealing, was going home, heading to his room and hiding under the covers until this unexpected black mood lifted from him.

                He wasn’t sure what had caused this sudden mini-depression. Well, yes he did, but he didn’t want to think about it.  He didn’t want to consider the fact that the stupid interview they had finished three days before was still bothering him.  It hadn’t been that the interviewer was rude, or that the questions were particularly painful.  But somehow, the man with the pen and pad of paper who had looked like he was dressed for a parade rather than an interview had struck a nerve.  Lance was sure he hadn’t meant to, but the damage was done all the same and here he was, lying on the bed counting the number of times other people moved about their normal lives.

                It was funny when you thought about it.  The guys got asked questions about their love lives all the time.  This, however, was the first time it bothered Lance.  It wasn’t the fact that someone was probing into his personal life that was the problem, hell people did that all the time and often far less tactfully than the fashion impaired man had dared to do.  The answers that his band mates gave were the real problem.

                Lance, of course, always listened to what his band mates had to offer, but usually it was with a distracted ear that was also quite interested in how much longer the interview was going to last, where they were going next and whether what he had just finished saying made sense or not.  This time though, when the man had asked whether the guys had ever been in love, he noticed that he was the only one that didn’t answer affirmatively.

                Chris and Justin had both had girlfriends, highly publicised ones at that, that they truly loved at some point in the relationship even if that did eventually fizzle.  Joey was undoubtedly in love with Kelly despite the fact that many refused to remove the “player” label that had been stuck to him for a little too long.  And JC was definitely in love with Christalee even if he did manage to screw things up with her quite regularly.  Lance . . .  well, Lance hadn’t really had anyone like that.

                Sure, the boy had been in relationships and once or twice thought he was in love, but by the time the romance or the novelty of the situation waned away, he realised that he was mistaking affection or lust for something else. He had never been in love, and to him, that was quite sad.  After all, when was he supposed to find time for love now?  Meeting people that weren’t in the business and wouldn’t freak out at his status wasn’t an easy task and he wasn’t sure if he could see himself dating someone that was in the same line of work he was.  Lance had always pictured himself marrying a small town girl who was sweet and gentle.  Being in the demanding public eye did things to you that, regardless of what some entertainers adamantly declared, jaded a person from all that was sweet and gentle.

                So he lay there, counting the number of times the door in the room next to his was slammed open and shut.  He would have counted the holes in the ceiling like people always did in movies or novels, but that was a little too cliché for him and besides, there weren’t that many holes to count in the ceiling of a five star hotel, there weren’t any in fact. Lance was just about to let himself sink into a deeper state of self-pity, one that would hopefully bring some comforting sleep with it, when his door was slammed open.  He sprang up to a sitting position to see who could possibly be in such a rush.

                He was surprised, and worried, to find Chris in his room, looking around a little frantically. Even more surprising however, was the fact that he was accompanied by Meghan and that she was holding his hand like it was her life jacket during a summer gale.  Usually, Lance would have chalked up the interruption to Chris being Chris and trying to scare the hell out of him, but that was the furthest thing from his mind today.   Chris had been the only one to mention, and probably notice, how much the interviewer’s question had bothered Lance.  Well, he didn’t actually realise that the question had done the trick, but he knew that something was bothering Lance.  Now that the bass thought about, no one had bothered him at all that afternoon, allowing him to delve into his thoughts.  That was probably Chris’ doing.  Beside, there was no way Chris was only pulling a joke when he looked like that.

                “What’s up man?”  Lance scooted a bit, not quite believing that either of them were going to take a seat next to him on the bed, but having his manners disallow him to do anything but offer the room.

                “How fast can we get a flight out of here?”  Horrible scenarios crashed against one another in Lance’s mind as he thought of what could possibly be happening.  Did Chris mean for all of them, or just the two that still had their fingers interlocked?

                “I don’t know . . . ”  Lance thought about it, nothing was processing at the moment.  He needed some time to let the simple fact that Chris was in his room sink in.  “Why are you asking?”

                “Meghan.”  Chris pulled the woman closer to him as if he wanted to be sure that Lance had seen her.  She tucked herself against Chris whose right hand automatically reached behind her and started to rub her back.  His left hand reached over and grabbed the palm that he had previously been holding.  “She has to go.  It’s a family emergency.  How fast man?”

                Lance didn’t bother asking for details.  Either the situation was so important that Chris thought an explanation could wait, or it was too personal a matter to be shared.  Either way, Lance did not doubt that Chris was fully serious about this.

                “I’ll see what I can do.  South Carolina, right?”  Meghan nodded in response, obviously on the verge of tears, Chris squeezed her against him.  “Look, go get packed, I’ll find you the first flight out there.  Don’t worry about it.  Just go.”

                Meghan looked up at Chris as if she wasn’t quite sure she could believe Lance and required a second opinion.  The man simply nodded, then let go of the grip he had on her.  She hesitated for a few seconds, realising that she hadn’t wanted him to let go anytime soon, but also aware that having an extra body attached to hers would only impede her packing.  She left the room alone to start the task.

                Chris sat quietly on the corner of the bed as Lance made the arrangements.  It only took one phone call and the flight found was to depart in about three hours.  By the time Meghan finished packing, she’d practically have to leave.  Lance relayed the information to Chris, then rested against the headboard, sure the older man would rush to Meghan and leave him alone.

                “Thanks Lance.  I know that we have someone that’s hired just to deal with stuff like this, but honestly, I couldn’t think of their name right now even if I tried to.”

                “Stanley,”  Lance answered with absolutely no emotion seeping through his voice.  “Stanley takes care of the travel arrangements.”

                “Yeah, Stanley,”  Chris agreed as he took a spot next to Lance on the bed.  “Are you okay man?”

                “Sure.  I’m just tired, you know how it is with promotions and everything.”  Chris nodded his head, but both he and Lance were painfully aware that he didn’t believe a single word coming from his friend’s mouth.  “What about Meghan?  Is she going to be alright?”

                Chris sighed loudly, and his eyes looked down sadly.  “I hope so.  I didn’t get the whole story from her, but I do know that one of her relatives is in the hospital and it doesn’t sound . . .  well it sounds like something that really took her by surprise.”

                “You mean, like no one was sick in her family or anything like that.”  Lance stated for Chris who seemed to be having a hard time finding his own words.

                “Something like that.  I don’t know how to explain it.  It just really sounded wrong.  I’ve never seen her so, so . . .  broken.  She could just cling to me Lance.  Meghan never admits needing anything or anyone’s help and she was holding on to me like I was the only way she was going to survive or something.  I don’t like it at all.”

                Lance reached out and squeezed Chris’ shoulder reassuringly.  “I’m sure everything will be fine man.  Meghan may not like asking for help, but she does have a lot of friends around to help her.”

                “Yeah, I just don’t like to see her like this.” Chris’ fingers played with the comforter that covered the bed as he avoided any eye contact that Lance might try to establish.

                “That’s love I guess.”  Chris opened his mouth to protest, but didn’t have a chance to speak a single syllable before there was a soft knock on the door.  Lance rose from the bed and opened the barrier, revealing an extremely shy looking Meghan on the other side.  There was definitely something wrong with her, Lance noted, as he realised that Meghan had never been shy with any of them.  Even during her first days when Chris had dragged her to a charity function because he couldn’t find any other last minute date and Meghan had met celebrity after celebrity, she hadn’t acted this aloof.  Her reaction was making Lance wonder if she had ever in her life had to ask anyone for help, or if this was all a first for her.

                Meghan entered the room as she once again tried to push the stray strand of hair away from her face.  She stood there, a few feet in the room, her fingers intertwining and her eyes fixed to the carpeted floor.  “Um, well, I’m going to go.  I don’t want to get stuck in traffic and I have to check my luggage and . . .  Yeah, I’m not sure exactly when I’ll be back, so I can-”

                Chris interrupted her before she was even sure how her sentence was going to end.  “You’ll call when you get there so I know you’re safe.  Then you’ll call when you find out exactly what’s happened so I know that you aren’t a wreck. Then you’ll call when you know how long you have to be there.  And then I’ll call you every hour because I won’t know what to do without you here taking care of me.”

                “Something like that,” she answered, a small smile adorning her lips for the first time since she’d answered her phone that morning.  “So, yeah, I’ll see you guys . . .  eventually.  Tell the others I wished them good luck for the concert tomorrow.”

                “Yep.”  Chris rose from the bed and turned toward Lance.  “If I’m not back by the time we have to be at our next interview, tell them I wasn’t feeling well or something.  Good enough for you, Scoop?”  Lance nodded his head in agreement.

                “Where are you going?”  Meghan asked, confused as she pulled the strap of her heavy bag over her shoulder again.  Chris plucked the material from her fingers and pulled the load away from her.  He supported the bag with his right shoulder as his left hand grasped her surprised palm.

                “I’m going with you to the airport.  I’ll see you off.”

                “You don’t have to do that,”  Meghan protested as she tried to retrieve her bag from him.  “You have things to do this afternoon.  I can see myself off.”

                “Don’t even think about it Megs.  Besides, if I don’t go and something happens to you, you’ll sue me for negligence at the workplace or whatever.”  She scowled at him as she once again reached for her luggage.  “Anyway, I don’t want you sitting alone in the airport for three hours while you wait for your plane to take off.  Just let me do this for you Meghan.”

                She fully intended on protesting, but his hand gently squeezed her own, and she wasn’t sure anymore whether he wanted to go to the airport for her or for himself.  She realised that she must have given him quite a scare when she had broken down in sobs against him.  If accompanying her to the airport would make him feel better about the situation, she wouldn’t protest, though she didn’t enjoy the feeling that she was interrupting his afternoon of work.  To be totally honest with herself however, Meghan had to admit that she enjoyed the fact that he wanted to accompany her.  She felt like she wasn’t just another employee on tour, but someone that actually mattered in his life.

                Either way, she didn’t have a chance to make a very solid decision as Chris grabbed her hand and practically dragged her out of the room.  “Come on,” he insisted, ignoring the fact that two bodyguards fell right in tow behind them.

 

                “It’s speed dial one.  You see this button?”  He pointed to the button on the telephone but didn’t bother waiting for her reaction.  “Well you press that, then this, then this and then you’ve reached me.  Understand?”  She nodded again.  “Okay, use it as soon as you’re off the plane.  Before going home, before getting in a car, before finding your luggage, hell before you even get out of the terminal for all I care.  Just promise me you will call me as soon as you touch down.”

                Meghan nodded obediently.  Usually, she would have protested that he was being ridiculous and that she could absolutely take care of herself, but somehow this was comforting now.  Somehow, having Chris being so overprotective gave her a sense of security despite the situation she knew she was flying into.  She didn’t think she could ever thank him for giving her such a feeling on such a day.

                “I will, I promise.  I’ll call you to tell you that I’m safe and sound even if I know that you’re on stage.  I’ll leave you one of my dorky messages that I know you’re going to save just to torture me with sometime in the future.  Will that make you feel better?”

                “More than you’ll ever know,” he admitted, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her in for a hug.  He had waited the hour and a half until her flight was ready to board.  They hadn’t said anything, just held hands as Chris gave her support that she never would have guessed was available.  Now that her flight was being called, he thought of a thousand things he wanted to tell her that simply hadn’t come during their lengthy wait.

                “I just . . .  be safe, okay Megs?  I need you to come back because I honestly don’t know what I would do without you.  Understand?”  His grip didn’t loosen, and she wasn’t about to protest at the contact.

                “Oh, you’d just get another assistant to replace me.  One that’s actually fun this time, though.”  She chuckled a bit, but Chris didn’t. Instead, he pulled her away from him until he could look her straight in the eyes.

                “I could never find someone to replace you,” he insisted, his hands firmly grasping her shoulders.  His eyes were so sincere and his voice was so gentle that Meghan wasn’t sure how to answer him, or if any answer she could think of would be adequate.  She stared at him, swallowing hard at the lump that had formed in her throat.  Her flight was called once again and she knew that she had to leave him now, and go home to face a situation that she wasn’t anywhere near ready for.  She opened her mouth to offer some kind of good-bye, but was silenced when Chris’ lips crashed against her own.  Meghan was too surprised to move away from him.

                She had always thought that kissing Chris - and yes, she had thought about this situation a good number of times - would be playful and quick.  That he would nibble and tease.  That he would chuckle after a few seconds of contact.  She was wrong.  His lips were firm against hers and they insisted that she move with him.  Meghan had thought that such a kiss would leave her giggling at his antics.  She didn’t expect her knees to buckle under her and to have to thank her lucky stars for the grip his arm had around her waist.  She also didn’t expect the feeling that the contact was over too soon, yet that came too.

                Chris moved slightly away from her, taking deep breaths to calm himself.  His forehead rested against hers as he tried to find the right words to explain himself.  There were none.  He’d lost the control he’d had over his emotions, and he’d taken advantage of her when she was completely vulnerable before him.  He wouldn’t be surprised if she simply never came back to work for him and just found another job without a single word of good-bye.  There was nothing he could say that would even slightly redeem himself. So he settled for saying the first thing that came to mind.

                “Be safe.”

                “I will,” she stammered in response. Then she was gone and Chris was left wondering what exactly had just happened.

 

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