"Harry, wait up!"
It was the last voice I wanted to hear.
"Hey," she said, breathless as she caught up to me.
Vanessa smiled when I turned sideways to face her, and I was forced to slow down as she did.
"Um," she started, glancing down at her feet, tangling her fingers together in front of her. Her hair was still pulled back in a ponytail, and she was still in costume. She breathed a laugh. "Sorry, I know you probably want to get out of here."
When I didn't say anything—unable to given how uncomfortable it was having to talk to her when I'd successfully avoided it for the last three days—she went on, "But I just wanted to apologize. The other day, when I asked you to rehearse—"
"Vanessa, you don't have to."
"I feel like I do."
An apology was the last thing I needed from her. The last thing I wanted from her.
What I really wanted was to forget the other day had happened altogether. Which was why I'd spent the last few days since avoiding her at all costs—dodging her at catering, only standing near her when we were shooting or when we were discussing a scene, barely looking her in the eye at all, not because she'd done anything wrong, but because I had, and I didn't want to know what she thought about it.
So, avoiding conversation with her had seemed like my best option.
Until now. When she was forcing the issue. And we both knew I'd been steering clear of her.
It made me feel even guiltier.
"You don't," I said, glancing towards the parking lot to my right. So close. "And I'd really better be going, so if you'll—"
"Just... let me get this out," she said, reaching a hand out to stop me without touching me.
I stood still, felt my patience waning, and promised myself I wouldn't take it out on her.
I'd already taken enough out on her.
"I'm just—I'm really sorry for the other day. When I asked you to rehearse, I truly had no intentions of, um... well, making you uncomfortable, I guess—"
I was squirming, barely able to stand still, torn between wanting to tell her that she hadn't and not wanting to admit to her that it was all me, she had nothing to do with it.
"—and I respect you, and I respect your wife and your family, and I feel terrible that things have been so strained between us these last couple of days, so I wanted you to know how very sorry I am for everything, and I never—"
"Vanessa," I said, needing her to stop. I couldn't take it anymore.
She only looked at me, eyes wide.
I tried to smile, but I truly didn't know what to say. "Thank you, but... this is unnecessary."
She hung her head, and her brown eyes didn't meet mine when she looked up again. "It sort of feels like it is."
This time, I hung my head, unable to face her like this. Not wanting to recall the way I'd been acting, the way I'd been feeling these last few days since we'd shared that kiss in her dressing room. They had been days of feeling guilt and a tremendous amount of sadness, loneliness, and a deep, deep frustration—anger with myself.
And I didn't know what to do with it. How to make it go away or end. It felt like there was nothing that would make up for the damage done—to Vanessa or to Mads. And it was all my fault, not theirs.
"I'm sorry, too," I said, knowing it wouldn't be enough, but afraid of explaining any further.
Vanessa smiled—a closed-mouth smile—and her shoulders rose up around her ears. "Can we just... go back to talking to each other for the next week and a half?"
I had to laugh. "Sure."
She blew out a breath. "Great. Okay. Well... I'll let you go now. Sorry for keeping you from getting home."
"S'alright," I said, my heart heavy again thinking of home. "I'll, uh... I'll see you tomorrow."
"See you tomorrow."
I stayed put for a second, watching Vanessa walk back inside the building—the swing of her long blonde ponytail. She didn't glance back, for which I was grateful, because as I watched her go, I almost wished she wouldn't leave. Almost wished she might want to talk longer, only so that I wouldn't have to go home.
I didn't know what to feel anymore. What to think. These last few days had been nothing but a confusing, horrible, emotional mess, and I couldn't really distinguish one emotion from another—one thought from another anymore.
I started moving towards my car again, carrying my bag and the weight of my guilt on my shoulders. Vanessa wasn't the only one to apologize to me in the last few days. Which was ironic considering I felt like I was the only one who owed anyone else an apology.
The other night, right after I'd found Mads crying on the kitchen floor in the midst of broken glass while pots bubbled over on the stove and Lila screamed her head off, I'd set about turning the burners off and plucking Lila from her swing, shushing her and bouncing her as patiently as I could while Madelyn's tears subsided. Then, still holding a crying Lila, I waited, barely breathing, for Mads to calm down enough to explain.
"I'm sorry," she kept saying, hiccuping as her breathing started to even out.
I'd only shushed her, stood between her legs where she sat on the counter with Lila in one arm, and brushed back her hair from her sweaty temple with the other, waiting for her to feel okay enough to tell me more.
And it was the hardest thing I'd ever done—the waiting in those moments. Because I was scared to death. Scared because I knew this was a breaking point for her and for us, even though there was relief in knowing things would no longer be the same.
But that was just it. The thing that really frightened me was that I knew things were about to change, and I still didn't have a clue whether they'd change for the better or for the worse.
And knowing what I did—what I'd done mere hours before finding Madelyn alone and broken on the floor—only terrified me more. Because I still didn't have a clue why it happened or what I was going to do about it. All I knew was that there was no way I could tell Mads right then and there. I couldn't bear to break her even more.
She stared at Lila as the baby wailed, something in her eyes shifting when Lila reached for her. It was love—love and some kind of pain. A pain I couldn't understand, but was desperate to.
I almost held Lila back, sure that Mads would want me to considering the fact that she was still crying herself. But she reached for Lila, too, her tears rebounding as I handed the baby over, as mother and daughter clung to each other, shedding fresh tears as they sought the comfort they needed from one another.
"I'm sorry," Mads kept whispering, no longer to me, but to our daughter.
Tears burned the backs of my eyes as I tried to understand and couldn't. As I felt the weight of what I'd done earlier settle onto my conscience again.
Lila seemed to find comfort first, settling into her mother's arms enough that her cries dissolved into nothing but a couple of hiccups before long. Mads lifted her head to stare down at the baby—Lila had set her head down on her mother's shoulder, relaxed now to be in Madelyn's arms.
It was a sight that eased something in me almost as much as it broke my heart. And our daughter's comfort in her arms seemed to ease something for Mads, too, because her tears slowed down not long later.
Once she'd calmed enough to stop hiccuping, her head resting against Lila's, she looked into my eyes, and only when I could see that hers were clearing, that she had very nearly reached the bottom after a slow, frightening descent from that incredible height of panic, did my heart start to slow down. And the relief was...
There were no words for what that relief felt like.
"There's my girl," I murmured, my hands on her legs, hoping she'd continue looking at me.
Seeing me.
But I didn't want her to see me either. Not after what I'd done. Not after how I'd betrayed her.
"Want some water?" I asked, hoping to get away from those eyes for a moment. Hoping to get away from the rising sense of guilt eating away at my insides.
Mads only nodded in response, still cuddled against a quiet Lila, but that was enough for me.
I hurried about getting a glass and grabbing the pitcher from the fridge. She didn't say anything as I poured her water, and she didn't thank me when I handed it to her. Only took it from me and lifted it to her lips, Lila still cuddled up against her shoulder. I watched her carefully—watched as those eyes shifted sideways, still red and wet, but not as distant as before.
Mostly just tired now.
Unsure whether or not I should say something to get her started talking, I glanced from her to the floor, and remembered the shattered glass under my feet.
"Let me, uh—" I broke off as I headed for the hallway leading off the kitchen, but Mads didn't call after me. So I opened the door leading down into the basement and grabbed the broom from the top step.
Mads still didn't say anything when I came back into the kitchen, but she was still sitting on the counter, her water glass set down beside her, both arms around Lila now.
"Stay right there," I said, noting that she was only wearing socks.
I began sweeping the floor with too many thoughts in my head. This was the breaking point I'd been waiting for, but at what cost? I never wanted to see Mads like this, and I never ever wanted to cause her more pain.
I should've pushed her more before this. I should've tried to get it out of her sooner. Maybe this wouldn't have happened if I had. And today—
God. I'd kissed her—someone who was not my wife. I'd kissed her like she was.
While my wife fell apart, piece by piece, back here at home.
"I'm sorry," Mads said then, her voice raspy and her nose stuffy.
It was the last thing I wanted to hear.
"You have nothing to apologize for," I said, making sure to look at her as I said it.
Because she needed to know that. She needed to believe it, even if it did mean that I'd have to live with her looking my guilt in the face.
She didn't seem to see it.
"Yes I do," she said, her eyes moving down to Lila's hand at her throat, where Lila was playing with her necklace. A pendant I'd gotten her two Christmases ago.
I gulped and closed my eyes. My emotions were already running too high, and seeing Lila play with that necklace would've been enough to put me over the edge if I focused on it too long.
"What..." I almost thought better of it, but I needed to know. "What happened?"
Her hair hung around her face as she stared at Lila, long and stringy—like she hadn't brushed it this morning. Her lips were pale, her skin even paler. "I don't know."
She looked at me. Her breathing quickened, and her eyes—they filled again.
"I—I was making dinner and everything was fine. Then Lila started crying, and I was just trying—" She stopped, squeezed her eyes shut, her breath catching in her throat "—I was just trying to get everything ready, and I didn't go over to her right away." She opened her eyes. "I should've."
A tear fell. My grip tightened on the broom handle as I watched it drop on her arm.
"Somehow, I knocked over the bowl, and—" she tried to take a breath through her stuffed nose "—and I just... something snapped."
"You—you knocked it over?"
Mads' eyes narrowed. "Well, I didn't intentionally break it if that's what you're implying."
"I'm not implying anything. I'm trying to understand."
"And I'm explaining. I knocked it over. I unloaded the dishwasher, and didn't have a chance to put everything away. It was on the counter. I knocked into it. It fell. Glass shattered. That's it."
"Why are you getting defensive?"
"Why are you looking at me like I did something wrong?"
"I'm not looking at you like you did something wrong."
Mads scoffed but didn't say anything more, just bit her lip. Shook her head. Lila was chewing on her pendant now.
And my heart was pounding in my throat. "Look, I—I'm sorry, okay? I'm just—you just really scared me, and I want to know what I can do to help. And to help I have to understand what happened."
Something that was hard only seconds ago softened in her gaze. She dropped her head and looked past Lila's fingers on her necklace to her lap. "I'm sorry."
"I don't want you to apologize," I said, stepping closer to her, letting the broom rest propped against the counter beside her legs. She looked up at me. So did Lila. I almost smiled when those large blue eyes pinned me in place—then looked back up at her mother. "I just—it terrifies me to know you're hurting like that and there's nothing I can do. When I came in here and saw you like that, I—"
When Mads closed her eyes, a single tear fell.
I touched her cheek.
Those eyes opened again.
I stared into them for several moments, seeing the pain, seeing the fear, and feeling that sharp snap of my own fear again as the image of her, curled up and broken on the floor came swimming back into focus, leaving me momentarily crazed. As crazed as I'd been five minutes earlier. "I think you need to go home."
Her brow furrowed. "But I am—"
"To New York."
There had been so much going through my mind in that moment, including, but not limited to, what had happened that day and how I had to swallow all the guilt back, live with it, at least for the time being. And I had to send her home. She had to be with her family. Because looking into her eyes, that image of her on the floor amidst shards of broken glass flashing too frequently in my mind, the sheer terror I'd felt still slithering around in my veins—it felt like the only thing I could do.
It had seemed like the only possible solution at the time.
Now, I closed my car door and stared up at my house.
And I didn't want to go in.
"What?" she had breathed after several seconds—like she'd needed that time to comprehend what I was saying. "No."
Lila was still between us, and I rested my palm on her small back, already feeling waves of missing her. "It's only another couple weeks till I'm done with work, and then I'll be back too."
"No, I—I'm not leaving Lila," she said, tears filling her eyes as she clutched our daughter even closer to her chest.
"No, of course not," I said, touching them both—needing to be touching them both. "You'll take her with you."
Madelyn's lip quivered as she digested what I was saying—as she understood what that would mean.
She looked at me then, eyes teary, and grabbed my forearm, searching for my hand where it gripped her leg. She tangled our fingers together when she found it.
"I don't want to leave you," she said.
"I don't want you to leave." It was the last thing I wanted. "But I don't want to find you like that on the kitchen floor again either. "
"You won't. I promise." She was gasping as tears fell. Desperate. "That won't happen again."
It broke my heart, seeing her like that, hearing her say things like that—and I knew this was the best option for both of us, especially her, but... I still wanted to believe her.
I lifted both hands to her face, desperate to believe her, but more desperate to see her happy again. If that meant that she had to leave me for a couple weeks, be with her family again, see her therapist again—
"My girl." She looked up at me, her lashes wet, her eyes and nose red. "I love you and Lila more than anything else in the world. I know you know that."
She nodded, her eyes closing for only a second before opening and fixing on me again. She sniffled and hiccuped and waited for me to go on.
"So then you must know that I would do anything—anything—to make you happy. To keep you happy."
"But I am—"
"I believe you," I said, knowing where she was going and squeezing her cheeks a little to steer her back on course. "I believe that you're happy. But I also believe that there's something else going on, and I want you to know that it's okay. Whatever it is that you're feeling, all of what you're feeling—it's okay."
I wiped her tears with my thumbs as they fell, and when Lila squirmed between us, Mads glanced down at her.
"I'm sorry," she whispered—to me or the baby, I couldn't tell.
Lila babbled then, reaching her hands up and yanking on Mads' hair. Madelyn barely flinched.
"C'mere, little one," I said, taking Lila into my arms. "I'm trying to have a serious talk with your mum."
I kept Lila in one arm and looked at Mads again. Her focus was on the baby in my arms, and her tears had slowed for the moment. Her shoulders were up around her ears.
"I'm sorry," she repeated, letting her gaze fall once more as she ran knuckles under her eyes.
There it was again. An apology. But rather than tell her she didn't need to apologize, this time, I tried a different route.
"What are you apologizing for?"
That did it. She looked up at me with a fire blazing in her eyes. "For everything! For being so terrible at this. For, for—for feeling this way."
I bit my tongue. Tried to remain calm. Patient. Not too eager. "What way?"
"Like I can't do anything right! And being so afraid all the time that I'm going to mess everything up. Like—"
She broke off because she was crying again, but I didn't say another word. Just held Lila and waited with bated breath, my heart hammering in my chest. We were so close. She was so close to—
"It shouldn't be like this," she murmured through her tears, shaking her head. "I can't understand why I feel this way when nothing's wrong, and I've got you and Lila, and everyone's healthy and happy, and—" she broke off again as she stared at the baby in my arms "—I feel so guilty all the time."
Lila squirmed in my arms, reaching once more for her mother. Again, I wasn't going to let Mads take her—not in this important, intense moment—for fear that she wouldn't continue. For fear that she would close up again. Shut me out again.
But Lila grunted, close to squealing as she reached, and Mads almost smiled as she took her from me.
Lila's warmth lingered in the crook of my arm as she settled against her mother's chest once more, and Mads dropped kiss after kiss to her soft head as she wrapped her arms around her.
I did nothing but watch them for several moments, drinking them in—my family. The people I loved more than anything else in the world. And because I loved them, I would have to let them go for a little while.
But not before getting to the truth.
"Why do you feel guilty, Mads?" I finally asked, unable to wait any longer.
Mads sniffled, her tears subsiding, and kept her focus on Lila, now content with her back pressed to her mother's chest, as she said, "Look at her." She was holding Lila's little forearms. "She's beautiful." She kissed the baby's head again. Sniffled. "Perfect in every way."
I looked at Lila, too, noting the way she played with Madelyn's engagement ring, but my attention was solely on her mother. "She is."
Mads nodded. Sniffled again. "She's everything I ever wanted. And she's right here." Her arms tightened around Lila. "So I can't understand how I can be so happy and so sad at the same time."
My heart thumped unevenly when she looked up at me, taking deep breaths as more tears filled her eyes.
"After two miscarriages, you would think that sadness wouldn't even exist in my heart now that we have her, but... but it takes up so much space inside me sometimes, I can barely breathe, and I don't know why." The tears started falling again, but she didn't wipe them away.
Neither did I. I could barely move.
"And I feel guilty because I finally have exactly what I always wanted—what so many women hope for and can never have—and I can't even manage to be totally happy for her sake." She nudged her chin in Lila's direction. "And if I can't be totally happy for her sake, then what good am I as her mother? I mean," she hiccuped, "if I can't be the best mom I can be, then I'm not the mother she deserves."
From everything that I'd read, I was already pretty sure she was suffering from postpartum depression, but hearing her lay it all out like that—I knew I was no psychiatrist, but now, I was positive. And even though I'd known there was more going on than she was telling me for a good long time, and even though it was completely apparent to me now that postpartum depression was the culprit, hearing all of that pour out of her still wounded me in a way I never could've been prepared for—and the pain ran deep. Because what she'd just admitted—
She'd been living with that. Every day. Every second.
And I'd left her with it. Every morning, I'd left her in this house, leaving all the responsibility of taking care of Lila to her. It didn't matter that we'd talked about it before Lila was born. It didn't matter that she'd agreed that I should do this film. It didn't matter that we were both content to come out here before Lila was born so that we were ready for her, and ready for me to start work when the time came without too much upset.
Because I should've known. We should've listened to our parents.
We should've stayed in New York, and I should've stayed with her.
"I never should've done this," I murmured, unsure what else to say, then remembering what had happened between me and Vanessa with a sick knot between my stomach and chest. "I never should've brought you here."
Mads finally looked up at me. "Don't say that."
"It's true. And it's why I think you should go home as soon as possible."
"No." We only looked at each other for a moment. "No, it's two more weeks. I don't want to leave you if it's just a matter of sticking it out another two weeks."
"But you shouldn't have to stick it out, Mads."
"But I want to!"
"But I don't want you to!" I exclaimed, effectively silencing her.
She only stared at me, and I didn't know what she was thinking, but I was afraid her already dark thoughts might turn darker.
I grabbed her face. "You've stuck it out long enough. I want you to be with your family. I want you to see your doctor as soon as possible, not someone you've never met out here. I want you to take care of yourself, and I want you to be happy, even if that means we can't be together for a little while."
It occurred to me then that it could be for more than a little while once she knew the truth. Once she found out about what I'd done earlier with Vanessa. But I shoved those thoughts away. Because I wanted to focus on her in that moment, and I wanted her to know that she was my only concern.
When she didn't immediately fight me on it, I knew I was getting through.
I curled her hair behind her ear. "I never wanted you to feel this way, Madelyn."
"I know that."
"And I hate that you do."
"I'm sorry."
"Please stop apologizing. If anyone should be sorry it's me. I brought you out here. Took you away from our home, away from your family, to have a baby, and then I left you to take care of her by yourself."
"You didn't make that decision alone, Harry. We both did. And I'm sorry it turned out like this. I feel like such a failure."
"No," I said, feeling like I wanted to shake her. "It is not your fault, do you hear me? You are not a failure, and you have nothing to apologize for."
Mads let a breath out through her nose as her eyes fell closed. "Please don't make me leave."
I'd sighed then, wondering whether the pain of this—seeing her in pain—would ever end.
"I can do it!" she'd insisted. "We've made it this far, I can make it another two weeks!"
"Mads," I'd caressed her cheeks. She'd been crying again—panicked. "You've done so much already, and that's the whole point. I don't want you to have to do any more without more support," I'd said, looking right into her eyes. "But please. Do this one last thing for me."
The sound of the door closing behind me echoed in our empty house, and I stood there in the foyer for a moment, imagining Lila crying from the family room, or the sound of pots and pans clanking from the kitchen.
I walked forward into the silence, the creaking wood floor the only sound apart from my footsteps.
The kitchen was empty and gleaming. No one had touched it today. Or yesterday. No one had touched it since the day before yesterday, when Mads had insisted on "cleaning up a bit" before her flight. The flight I'd booked for her. The flight she'd begrudgingly gotten on, promising me that she would stay with her mother, that she would call her doctors, that she would set up appointments with them as soon as possible.
I walked to the counter and set my keys down, then shoved my bag onto a chair. And I stood there for a minute, glancing into the family room, finding Lila's playpen just where she'd left it, some of her toys tucked away into bins—the pictures of all of us on display at the far end of the room.
And I had to look away.
I sat down and drummed my fingers on the counter, wishing away the loneliness, wishing that time would move faster so that I could get to New York already. Then I lifted my phone, forgetting my hunger, my exhaustion, as I pulled up Madelyn's name and called her.
It had been terrible saying goodbye. We'd ordered takeaway after our talk in the kitchen, getting rid of everything that had burned and overcooked on the stove. And while we waited for our food to arrive, I'd booked her flight for the following day despite her arguments not to.
Then, I'd driven her to the airport after work two days ago feeling like I'd been wrong about everything, and the last thing I should do was send her and Lila away, especially considering I hadn't told her what happened between me and Vanessa.
But that wasn't what would've been best for her. Knowing that I'd kissed Vanessa would've done nothing but make everything worse. So, I'd parked the car. I'd taken her suitcase and Lila's bag, and I'd walked them into the airport, kissing and hugging them both until I was near tears. Mads had been crying the whole way to the airport, and she showed no signs of stopping as she headed for security, Lila looking over her shoulder at me as they walked away.
As I made my way back home, I felt so disgustingly guilty for so many things that I debated turning the car around and buying a ticket for the next flight out. But something stopped me. Something made me drive all the way home and got me up for work the next day.
Something that had stuck with me ever since my wife and daughter had left to be with Madelyn's family.
Maybe it was better. Maybe they were better off without me.
At least for the time being.
"Where's Daddy?" Mads voice was saying. Then, she and Lila appeared on the screen, and she gasped, "Look! There he is!"
I couldn't help my smile.
"There're my girls."
"There's Daddy," Mads was saying to Lila, and Lila was reaching for the phone with her mouth, ringed with orange mush, ajar. "Sorry," Mads said to me, "She's just having dinner now."
"S'alright," I said, staring at the two of them. My beautiful girls. Mads had her hair up in a bun, but it looked like she was wearing makeup. And Lila looked content again. I'd been worried after Mads said she'd had a tough time on the flight. "What's on the menu?"
"Yummy carrots tonight," Mads said, smacking her lips at Lila who waved her arms and gurgled with delight.
"Hi Harry!" a voice called from the background, and I knew it was Michelle.
"Hi Mum," I said back.
Mads was smiling. "We're just waiting on Will and Jenny. They're bringing the girls over for dinner."
"That's great," I said, my heart aching just a bit. "I won't keep you then."
"No, it's fine," Mads said, half-focused on me, and half-focused on getting some more orange mush into Lila's mouth. "How are you, how was your day?"
"Good. Long," I said, my mind immediately returning to my conversations with Vanessa. "I can't wait till it's over so I can come home."
"You and me both," Mads said, her focus mostly on Lila now, and I knew I was analyzing too much, but why did it sound like she didn't really mean that?
"Did you talk to your doctor?"
"I've got an appointment with my therapist tomorrow," Mads said, sounding proud of herself.
"Good. Let me know how it goes."
A lot of noise in the distance had Madelyn looking up and moving the phone too quickly for me to see anything, but I figured that meant that her brother had just arrived.
Then I heard their voices.
Will's, Jenny's, and then the smaller, higher voices of Lilly and Grace. And my heart ached even more.
Madelyn's face appeared in the screen again. "Everyone say hi Harry!"
She angled the phone so that I could see my brother-in-law and his family all smiling and waving, and Grace started jumping as she shouted, "Hi Uncle Harry!"
And I had to laugh as I waved, as I said hello in return, and I was still smiling when Madelyn's smiling face filled the screen again. "Would you mind if I call you back later?"
"Not at all," I said, completely crestfallen, but still trying to sound upbeat. Still trying to keep the smile on my face.
"Okay, great. I love you. I'll talk to you later."
"Love you, too. Talk—"
She hung up before I could get the rest of the sentence out.
I knew she was busy. I knew it was a great thing that she had something going on. That she was amongst people she loved, and people who loved her. That she wasn't alone with Lila, and wouldn't be for the foreseeable future--until she was ready to be.
But the silence of our house on the other side of the country threatened to drown me where I sat in our empty kitchen. And looking around, imagining her here at the stove, imagining Lila giggling from her empty high-chair—I let my phone fall from my fingers to the counter, then dropped my head into my hands feeling guilty and useless and lonelier than ever.
___
Author's Note:
The long-awaited continuation of Ch. 28! I'm pretty happy with it, so I hope it lived up to your expectations! Obviously not *everything* was resolved, but that's life isn't it? One thing at a time :)
First things first, I KNOW I'm super behind on responding to comments, and I'm REALLY sorry. But you know I'll get to them, and I'm already looking forward to hearing your thoughts on this one given the, uh, strong reactions to Ch. 28, lol. Which you know I love! It means you're all invested, which is right where I want ya ;)
Also, I don't think I've noted this yet, but OOTO has well over 500K reads, ALLO has well over 300K, and this one is so close to 100K I can taste it, so THANK YOU SO MUCH for all that you've done to get these stories to this point. It truly is a dream come true!
I felt like there were other things to say, and of course, I'm blanking on everything now, but to my beta readers who were SO wonderful with their feedback for Somewhere in the Middle, Crossing Boundaries will be coming your way either this weekend, or early next week! I swear! Thank you again for all your help :)
Lots and lots of love to you all, and I hope that life is treating you well. Thank you for EVERYTHING! xx