Aidan's arms surround me, pressing me up into the window of my car. The weekend has flashed in a blur, the hours slipping away like shells in a rushing shoreline. While it began with a rough, hectic start, somewhere between the days, we found our equilibrium and spent most of our time together locked away, hiding from Victoria and any other things that could disturb our splendor.

I don't have the same dreading feeling I did when I left here the first time. This is a relationship. He's informed me of that much—a revelation. It's like pulling teeth to get a man to admit anything. Aidan is a rare breed of man, in touch with parts of himself that make him seem older than his age, wiser.

"Be careful on the trip," I say into his neck, wondering why he's going to visit his father-in-law in California. It could be an obligation, a ritual he hasn't informed me of, although, I was pretty positive judging by the way he's spoken about her side of the family that they rarely keep in contact. I refuse to jump to conclusions.

"It's California. Not the Rockies, Jo." I chuckle with a knowing nod, and pull back. He brushes back my bangs blowing in the wind, and a few of the strands that have escaped my braid. "What are you going to do about Samantha?" he asks, making me regret mentioning the fight to him.

"I don't think there is much I can do. I've called her. She's ignored it. I've tried to explain." I squint, uncomfortably. "Unfortunately, on paper, you're kind of suspicious, Hughes."

He smiles, slowly, smart enough to know I don't mean that offensively. "Yeah, sorry about that."

"I'll survive," I sigh, amusedly, lifting onto my toes to kiss him, passionate, but short enough to leave him wanting. I feel victorious when his eyes slant tellingly while I slip out of his grasp, and pull open the driver's side door. He leans against it as I get situated, switching on the heat. My front windshield has been scraped, and defrosted already. I am truly spoiled.

"Maybe she'd feel better if she met me then."

Whoa. I glance up to him, blinking slowly. "You'd...do that? After what happened?"

He shrugs, sticking his hand into his pocket. He must be freezing without a coat, but right now, I enjoy the sight of the thin sweater billowing against his skin, conforming to his lean, athletic form.

"She's your best friend, Jo. I've made things very complicated for you. If I can fix this, maybe...maybe she'll come around."

I'm smiling wider when he leans into the car, seeking my mouth. I clasp on his face, and he shivers at my icy fingers, but doesn't pull back despite it.

"Thank you. I'll see what she says."

He nods, backing up. "Do. I'll talk to you soon."

                                                 ***

"You're late," Matthew states obviously, bombarding me at the elevators. I've worked here long enough to expect his presence at any time, but due to his recent and irritating desire to rid me of all my good conscience, I'm caught off guard, and he notices my slight jump.

He trails the halls beside me, keeping up with my brisk pace.

"You know, if you wanted me to fire you, you could just say it."

"I have no intention of being fired."

"Oh? And showing up two hours late, refusing to answer your boss when he calls...I'm just supposed to let that slide?"

I nod, my confidence sky high considering what's in my hands, what I spent the good part of my morning acquiring. "Can you afford to lose me?"

"Well, noting that the best I've received from you in weeks is a two-page commodity on celebrity stalkers, mere doodling on your part, I think maybe you're burning out."

I stop by Samantha's barren desk, lacking her usual scandalous firefighter calendars and festive seasonal decorations, and hold up the folder in my hand with a serious expression. I watch the intrigue hit his features, and when he takes it from me and scans the contents, I watch the aquamarine irises shadow with flashing dollar signs.

Needing to see no more, I turn on my heel and enter my office, shedding my coat at the door. He follows right in, chuckling in a low excited sort of way.

"Josephine, where...where did you learn this?"

"I got a call this morning from a friend in Washington, well not so much a friend, more of a mistake," I bite my lip, both excited and disturbed by how fast my heart is racing, "but no matter. We met each other during campaign season two years ago. He said yesterday, he'd heard that there had been whisperings in Washington about a series of letters containing threats of imminent breaching, explosives that were intercepted before reaching the President's hands. It was whispered it was a member of the Secret Service, someone with close proximity to the Oval."

Matthew, looking frazzled, steps to the doorway and shuts it, running his hand over his mouth.

"Holy shit." He gapes. "This source, who is he? Is he credible?"

"He's nameless, but works on the grounds of the White House," I press abidingly.

"And this is legitimate? We can't just publish something like this and expect there won't be repercussions. The White House will have a field day, come for our heads."

"Well, it wouldn't be the first time. And anyways, I thought of that." I point at a website address I printed out, and the article for proof. "They are small, with hardly any viewers but if the White House come for us, we can say we saw their article and probed further. They can't do anything if it's already printed."

"It's still a risk. I mean, this is damaging stuff. Bombs? Threats? This will cause an uproar, question everyone's sense of security."

"So, what do you suggest? Throwing this in the back burner? The White House receives threats every day, Matthew," I say, leaning into my desk. "People just don't know about it."

I shrug, holding out my hands at the worried, intrigued expression that's taken hold of his face. "Look, it's most likely a hoax, a normal disturbance they get every day that will be forgotten in a few weeks, but it's not every day, Matthew, that we know this much about one. You wanted me to get you something that sells...well, this is it."

The wheels churn restlessly behind his eyes with impressive speed as he weighs the pros and cons of taking something on of this magnitude. He finally looks at me, and exhales.

"You're prepared for what comes with this?"

"Absolutely."

He nods, decisively. "This is something we need to publish now, today. Write the article, and we will get it up on the website by the end of the day. Think you'll have it?"

"I can do it." I'll be skipping breakfast, lunch, and dinner, but I can do it.

"Good." He taps on the doorframe when he opens it, letting in the chattering from the office, and turns back to me. "Glad to have you back, Josephine."

                                               ***

"I'm at his place now," Aidan says, the sound of crashing waves accompanying his voice. "His beach house."

"You are?" I ask, desperate to know what he's doing with Nora's father. "How...how is it going?"

"Fine. It's...it's fine." The line goes quiet for a few moments, and I picture him wrestling, juggling a combination of emotions brought up by being near that life again. "He, um, gave me some things of Nora's, and Lily's. They're remodeling the guest rooms, and want to get rid of them."

The guy sounds like a real dick.

"He's become such a fucking asshole," Aidan states, agreeing with my unspoken words. "Anyways, I didn't call to talk about him. Tell me about you."

He sounds aggravated, and with the news I'm about to tell him, I doubt it's going to make him feel any better. "Well there has been improvement here on the work front. A pretty big one."

"Oh yeah? What's going on?"

"I woke up this morning to a lead. I can't say who from, but it's big, and it's happening really fast. I've been writing the article all day. We're going to upload it at midnight, because we can't wait for print."

"What's big?"

"Government big. I mean, I've covered my tracks and all, and I've dealt with inside information before, I've told you, but I-I felt like you needed to know that I was going through with it."

"How serious is this? You can't tell me...anything?"

"Not on the phone," I say, vaguely. "It's probably going to go away soon, but it's not something the magazine is willing to pass up, and neither am I."

"Could you get in trouble for it?"

"I'm going to piss off quite a bit of people, but in the end, no. No, I'll be fine."

"Shit, Jo." He chuckles, clearly shocked.

"I know. I know, but this is what I do."

"You don't have to explain that to me. I get it. Do it...just be careful, all right? I really don't wanna have to bail you out of jail."

"Oh, you don't like the prospect of a jailbird girlfriend?"

"I like the prospect of you, safe, and me nearby."

"Then get over here," I hum, smiling slowly.

"I'm working on it, baby."

I'm so stuck on his endearment that I nearly miss him telling me that Mel, Nora's father, is approaching him and he needs to go.

"I'll talk to you later."

"M'kay," I say, hanging up the receiver. My desk is a cluster fuck of papers and numbers, research and amendments. Matthew has informed the office to steer clear of my office, and with all this excitement, I find myself truly missing Samantha, for she would have gone crazy with a story like this.

I haven't hired anyone, haven't even interviewed anyone. When Matthew asked where she was, why all her things are gone, I told him she'd been cleaning and was visiting her mother in Wisconsin. I'm not sure why I did that, but all signs point to the fact that she's my best friend, and someone I'm not sure I'm prepared to lose.

Picking up the receiver, I dial her number slowly, attempting to come up with something to say by the time she picks up...if she picks up. I'm nowhere near prepared when she does answer, on the first ring, no less.

"Hello?"

"Can we stop fighting now? Please?" I blurt out, spitting out the first ridiculous thing that comes to mind. It's impulsive and pathetic, but her response is just another indicator of how close we have always been.

She's equally pathetic.

"Yes! I've been going crazy this week without talking to you. I'm so sorry," she says. "I can't believe I said those things to you. I-I acted like such a bitch."

"No, I should have trusted you."

"I suggested you were going to die being with him, Jo. It's unforgiveable. Oh my god."

"Would you meet him?" I ask bluntly, saying too much, too soon, unable to stop myself. "I get that you don't trust us, and get why, but—"

"Of course I will. Of course. I-I visited your mama today. She didn't say much, but it felt good to be near her. It felt like I was with you. I don't think we've ever gone a week without talking before."

"Let's not do it again."

She laughs, with relief. "Deal."

"Your desk is still sitting untouched, you know...waiting for you, if you still want it."

"I mean, I don't know," she says, full of amusement. "Being home has given me time to clear out the weeds in the garden, to make the kid's lunches..."

"I've got something big."

"How big?"

"Let's just say if my press pass to the White House wasn't already revoked, this would do it."

Her pause lasts a grand total of six seconds. "I'm on my way."

                                                ***

Samantha's eyes devour the lines I've written, thick glasses perched on her nose. She's in my chair, and I'm on the desk, a box of General Tso's chicken in my hands. It's fifteen minutes to midnight, and there's no more time. Matthew is seated on the couch, his hands tucked under his chin, failing miserably to hide his nervousness.

"I think it's damn good. Informative, no gossip. It sounds legit," Samantha says, standing to hand it over to Matthew so he can scan it as well. I swallow my food, ravenous after a day of fasting.

"Do you think they'll come for my head?"

"No. But I do think every news station will pick this up."

"Yeah?"

"You're an award-winning journalist. You used to be a member of the press corps. You don't do fluff."

"I'm walking it over to Kate now," Matthew says, leaping out of the chair. "First thing in the morning, call Adriana and let her know everything and what she should expect. PR needs to be on it tomorrow."

"Will do."

"Good work, ladies."

I blow out a breath of release when he's gone, the article in hand. It's mere minutes until midnight. "No going back now."

"You've handled worse than this before."

"Yeah, but not with so much at stake."

Samantha rounds the desk and leans into the mahogany, crossing her arms over her chest. "Aidan, you mean."

"Yes, among other things. Bradley liked the publicity," I explain, shrugging. With so much between us so raw, mentioning anything about Aidan to her feels like a betrayal...though I'm not sure if it's a betrayal to me or to him. "He was all for me making a mess of things. Aidan knows what I do, but he doesn't know what I do."

"It's a new relationship. He will understand how crazy you are eventually."

My eyes roll as I begin to pack up my things, clearing my desk, the whole mess of papers. She crosses the room to grab her coat from the rack. She's sliding it on when she speaks up, quietly.

"I'm sorry."

I glance at her, having known it was coming. We've fought before, but never like this. It's not surprising that we both have a bit to say.

"Me too."

"I admit, it caught me for a loop...how crazy you are about this guy. And while I've shown it poorly, I do want you to be happy with him." She swallows. "I don't trust him, not yet. I don't know enough to, and as your best friend, I'm going to judge the hell out of him, because it would destroy me to see you open yourself up like this just for someone to break your heart. You don't need that."

"I haven't told you much about him. It's understandable, considering his background, that you'd be hesitant. But, Sam, I know. I know everything." Her brows lift, shock crossing her features. "He told me, and I'm still with him. He's still with me."

I run my hands through my hair, reflectively. "If...if anything were to happen to us, Sam, our hearts would collectively break. We've both risked a lot to have even this, and I'm sure I'll risk more in the future. I'm okay with that. You don't need to protect me from him."

"You found a sign on his lawn that said MURDERER. You said he's surrounded by tragedy. You said he couldn't bring himself to commit to this. Everything about him seemed so unstable. The only reason I sent for those files anyway was because I couldn't stand you going into this blind. Love makes people believe what they want to believe."

"He's a good man," I reassure her, smiling. "I admit I jumped into this without the proper care of myself, but Sam, he really is the most amazing man. I didn't know..."

Her head tilts fondly, her hair scattering over her shoulder. "I can see it. You're glowing."

She grabs her bag, sighing. "When I was with your mama today, she was pretty out of it, but she managed to mention him, to tell me how much she likes him for you." She chuckles. "When I heard that he'd gotten your mothers seal of approval, I knew I had made a mistake."

"She's a tough one."

"Yes, she is," she agrees, nodding. "She's gone through so much, so fast. To see her...digressing like that...it hurt. I'm so used to her being on it, always running around the house."

"Some days I go in and she doesn't even look up," I admit, reluctantly. "There's nothing I can do to stop it. She's taking medication, but it's past the point of working."

"Getting old is a real bitch."

I chuckle, lacking emphasis. "That it is."

"Which reminds me..."

"Don't do it."

"Your birthday is tomorrow." I glare at her, and she fixes the strap on her shoulder. "Did you think I'd forget?"

"I hoped you would."

"I'm taking you out if you don't already have plans with Aidan."

"He's in California, so no, I don't. And I'd much rather you send me a card and it be over and done with."

"No chance. I plan to be lavish, considering we've just made up."

"You don't have to. You really don't," I half plead.

"You know, you may want to get out for a bit tomorrow," she says, pointing at the clock, which reads 12:01. "I'll be here, bright and early."

"You better," I say, standing up when she comes over to embrace me. I'm in her arms when my phone dings, the start of the impending storm. She laughs, and lets me go, grimacing.

"Good luck."

"Thanks." I grab my phone from the desk, swiping the screen open as she exits, perking up when I see it's Aidan.

I've severely underestimated you.

Intimidated? I type back, reeling from the fact that he looked for the article at the stroke of midnight.

Well, let's just say if you do get arrested for this, I like you enough to make daily visits.

Shut up.

You are extraordinary.

I smile, swelling with pride.

Just tell me you're just a little intimidated. Just a little.

Intimidated, enlightened, and proud. Remind me never to get on your bad side.

                                                   ***

I'm damn near bubbling by the time Matthew sits for the morning meeting, which was put on hold due to the number of incoming calls he's received this morning. Samantha hasn't left the desk, also glued to her phone, giving statements to news outlets. She and I are still visibly recovering from the fight that hindered our work relations, but otherwise, the day has been hectic and exciting.

"I just spoke with Corey Feinstein, the Press Secretary to The President of the United States."

I go rigid, setting my eyes unto him like every other person present.

"I informed him that it's our duty as people of the press to report on incoming information we think would be substantial to the public. After telling him we had all our ducks in a row, proof and the handy backing of the first amendment, he abruptly hung up on me, which means we did our job. Josephine Taylor just single-handedly made The Chronicle's year in the month of January."

Most of the teams applause is simply to appease their boss, and milk his excitement with hopes he'll let us out early. And oddly enough, he does, catching up with me on the way out.

"Josephine."

I turn, holding my portfolio to my chest. "Hm?"

"I just wanted to apologize...about the Hughes ordeal."

He's only apologizing because I've brought something with more value. I press my lips together, pushing aside any resentment because that's the job. "Don't mention it."

"Samantha informed me that it's your birthday, so I had a bouquet of flowers sent to your office. I wish you'd reminded us. We would have done a something for you."

"Sam knows I like to keep it low on my birthday. I'm not one for parties, so I'm actually glad you didn't remember." I smile, shrugging. "Thank you for the flowers, though."

He nods, holding his hips. "'Course. Good work again, Josephine."

Samantha rises from her desk, groaning loudly.

"Christ, I don't think I've talked so much in my life." She hands me a stack of notes, which I must sort and move through by seven—the time she's slotted away to take me out to dinner. "What did Matthew say in the meeting?"

"The White House was in touch, and he basically told them to fuck off."

"That man makes enemies in his sleep. You have too, you know."

"It's not that bad."

"Josephine, this is now airing on every news station nationally, and has even been picked up by a few internationally. Every reputable newspaper has made this their cover page, and your name is plastered along with it. Explosives in the capital...that's some crazy shit."

I walk over to the assortment of flowers on my desk that I'm sure Matthew ordered considering they are from the same florist that does his Christmas party every year, frowning at the even larger one beside it.

"Who are these from?"

White Lilies. Nearly two dozen—fully bloomed.

I've just begun to read the card when she tells me.

"Bradley, um, sent them over."

Josephine,

Happy birthday, darling.

Congratulations seem to be in order, as well. You are an absolute force to be reckoned with.

Bradley

I place the card back down, wishing I could pretend I didn't read it in front of her.

"That was nice of him."

She smartly doesn't answer, instead leaving me to my work, which is overflowing. It doesn't matter how many people I call, how many times I say 'no comment', the work is never finished. And I really don't mind it.

In fact, it reminds me of me—a month ago.

In such a short amount of time, I've morphed myself into being someone Aidan could love, and who could love him back. Oddly enough, I've never said the words. Aidan has, in vague sorts of ways, but I haven't come anywhere near professing it to him.

To even think of it is hard to fathom.

Although, I feel it. Even now, I'm focused. I'm devoted to the computer screen, the telephone, but my soul isn't here anymore. My desire is elsewhere, wherever he is.

I've lost part of myself, and I feel it more and more every day.

"All right," Samantha says, stepping into the office, buttoning her coat over her blouse, "so you are meeting me at La France at seven so I suggest leaving soon to put on something better than that."

I glance down at my dress pants and sweater, frowning. "This isn't good enough?"

"It's your birthday, Jo. It's a fancy restaurant."

"Fine."

"Fine," she repeats, mumbling to mimic me on her way out. I ignore her advice, staying another thirty minutes to clear my voicemail inbox before I finally pack up, begrudgingly. With only enough time to stop home and find something decent to wear—a silver hand-painted silk slip dress and matching stilettos—I wrap myself in a lapel dress coat and marching down the steps, already late. Deciding a taxi would be the better choice considering alcohol is definitely in my future after the day I've had, I hold out my hand at the curb, hailing one pretty easily considering the amount of traffic on the roads.

La France is a bustling French restaurant, with cuisine highlighted in Food & Wine, Saveur, anything reputable. I'm not sure how Samantha landed the reservation on such short notice, but I'm not complaining.

Glowing lanterns illuminate the deep red carpet leading to the double doors, which an attendant holds open for me. The lighting dims considerably as I enter, slowing suspiciously.

Oh no.

"Surprise!"

To my horror, Samantha has somehow bought out the restaurant for the night, no doubt, Matthew's doing. Nearly everyone at The Chronicle is here. Acquaintances, old colleagues, even some people I can't for the life of me remember. The place is packed full, and I'm standing like an idiot at the doors, the fool that didn't catch on.

"Oh my god."

Everyone begins to cheer at the look of mortification on my face.

"Oh, don't be mad!" Samantha laughs, coming over to remove my coat. I let her drag the sleeves down my arms, blinking, throat dry. "It was Matthew's idea to make it a big thing! It's kind of celebration party too!"

"That makes me feel better," I mumble, bright red.

"Someone get this lady a drink!" Samantha shouts, already slightly inebriated. Any residual awkwardness we had earlier is long gone now.

"You always did hate surprises."

I hand her my coat, and gape at the familiar voice, seeing Bradley standing a few feet away from me, his hands in his pockets. He's probably come from work, judging by the expensive suit he's sporting effortlessly. I shut my mouth like a flytrap, gathering myself quickly.

"Yes..." I glance at Samantha, pointedly. "I do."

"Matthew invited me along," Bradley says with a hint of amusement to spare Samantha from my wrath. "I hope you don't mind. I wanted to give you your present."

"Oh god, present?" Kill me now. I muster a smile. "Um, you really didn't have to. I mean really."

"I know you hate fawning, but I couldn't show up empty-handed."

"Oh, by the way, your mama's coming. The nurse is bringing her," Samantha says, reappearing from wherever she just dropped off my things. She hands me a martini. I look at her, blinking.

"Is that smart?"

"She wanted to come, wanted to celebrate with you. She's coming."

Unable to give her a coherent answer, noticing all the people looking in our direction, waiting to share congratulations and hellos, I glance back to Bradley, who is patiently waiting for my attention.

He holds out a rectangular box to me, wrapped with a shiny gold bow. With a curious look, Samantha takes my drink when I hold it out so I can grab it from him.

"Thank you," I murmur, "for whatever it is."

"You're welcome."

I slide the bow off, and lift the top, smiling wide. He's framed my article.

"Wow."

"Everywhere I walked today, people were talking about you. It was insane. Here I thought the trial in Texas was going to be the showstopper..."

The trial...shit, I forgot about that. I gape, staring down at the glass. Wasn't I supposed to leave for that this week?

"Um, about that..."

"Josephine!" Matthew shouts, interrupting us effectively with his belligerent drunkenness. He wraps his arm around my shoulders, snickering.

"I made you th-think I didn't know it was your birthday. Did you fall for it?"

"Totally," I mumble, chuckling awkwardly. He points to Bradley, winking.

"I'm playing matchmaker since it didn't work out with Hughes," he says, and I close my eyes, grimacing.

"Actually..."

"Matthew, why don't we go get you something to drink?" Bradley insists with a smirk to me. "A water, perhaps?"

Matthew hunches over, surrendering to Bradley's insistence. "Okay, yeah. Okay."

I mouth a thanks to him, and take the drink in Samantha's hand, downing it completely in one very large gulp. She's clenching her teeth in repentance when I glare at her.

"I could kill you," I groan, with no real effort to hold this against her.

"I didn't think everyone would get so drunk so fast," she apologizes.

"An open bar will do that for you...is Matthew paying for all of this?"

"Yes, he's trying to ensure you'll stay with him when all the job offers start pouring through."

I roll my eyes, smiling to Justin who passes touching my arm with a warm welcome.

"I'm going to get something stronger," I tell her as she starts up a conversation with the manager of the restaurant. By the time I reach the bar, I'm fresh out of pleasantries, my brain fried from the tireless days I've had. I order a brandy, to remind me of the first night with Aidan, secluded from any and all types of people.

Not wishing to behave like the idiots surrounding me, I take a sip, letting the martini give me a buzz. I hide out there for a few minutes, before heading back to find Samantha, praying I don't run into Bradley on the way up.

I manage to find my coat, and leave Bradley's present amongst my things, not wanting to lose it and really upset him. He's going to already be let down when I inform him I'm not going to Texas.

"Jo! Jo, come here! Where is Jo?"

Samantha is shouting. Eyes find me instantly, and the hounds descend, coming to grab me and force me to the front of the main room, where a large cake with sparkler candles is being carried out carefully by the staff. I hold my hands over my face, blushing bright red as I'm ushered to stand beside it as everyone begins to sing to me—very loudly, and off-key.

Happy Birthday to you, Happy birthday to you

Happy birthday, dear Josephine—

Samantha rubs my back, and I look at her, overwhelmed by how much has happened in the past days. I also look at everyone else too, trying to contain some element of calm.

That is blown to shit when the glass door to the restaurant opens, revealing to me Aidan freaking Hughes, dressed in a crisp suit, his coat dusted with falling snow, walking in the door with my mother, clutching onto his arm.

My hands drop from my face, dangling by my sides in shock.

I experience instant palpitations when he looks up, realizing he's become the center of attention, having entered at the most inopportune time to remain inconspicuous.

Samantha's looking at him, a small secret smile on her face.

Matthew is looking at him.

Bradley.

My mouth falls open slowly as the oblivious party finishes their song to me.

Is this really happening?

My mother smiles at the sight of everything, although clearly intimidated. I move toward her and throw my arms around her tightly.

"Mama."

"Happy birthday, baby," she says, softly. My eyes flash up to Aidan, who is staring down at me, his features effortlessly restrained. At my smile, the impressive mask cracks slightly and his eyes soften, his full lips curving slowly while he nudges his head in the direction of the cake, and the rest of the waiting party-goers.

"Make a wish," he whispers softly.