Sunday, December 7, 6:50 p.m.

ANN

In line.

What do they call this in England?  "On queue." I think that's what the phrase is anyway. I almost ask one of the two men next to me. They both are British, I think. At least their accents sound it. But what do I know? I remember reading this phrase once in a story a teacher gave me to read when I was in high school. I remember asking her what the phrase meant. It's funny to me that it's always the little, everyday turns of words that seem to be so different between our two forms of English.

It's way too fucking cold here. And I'm on my own. I wish I was doing something good with this time alone. But I'm not. I'm waiting. In line. I hate waiting. I am the most impatient person in the world. I just can't stand waiting.

Especially not for a fucking taxi. Christ, if this was anywhere in the U.S., there'd be taxis coming out of the ass waiting at the airport for fares.

I turn around because I am frustrated and hate watching for the phantom taxis that we are in line ... on queue ... waiting for. Inside the airport, on the other side of the big glass window, other people are rushing for planes.

That sounds like heaven to me. I wish I was ... and that's when it strikes me. Why do I have to be here? Like Maximus, my best present to Terry would be my absence. I know I'm not really welcome; he'll be the perfect gentleman, though, because he won't want to openly show any of the tension between us as it would upset Uma's big effort to bring our family all together for his birthday. But he doesn't want me here and there's no sense pretending to myself that it's otherwise between us.

If wishes could come true then I'd make us both happier and I'd be flying home instead of standing here waiting in line for a taxi to take me into London. But maybe, a wish can come true if you act on making it become reality, eh? Why don't I act on this one? How hard would it be to simply walk back inside and get on a plane and go home?

It's like a dream, it is. It's a daydream, for sure.

I walk back inside. I go up to the floor where I can arrange a flight ... trade in my ticket I am scheduled to use in another nine days ... and, dammit, but I have such good luck! I can just barely make a flight that's leaving ... run for it, the person at the ticket counter tells me.

And run I do. I make it to the gate just for the final boarding call. I am laughing as I hand over the boarding pass and every single person I pass on the plane as I make my way to my seat grins back at me because I am so happy to be flying home that it's infectious.

When we hit cruising altitude, I use the phone in the seatback in front of me to call Jack to lie to him so I can have an excuse to not have been in London.

"Jack! The most horrible thing has happened! I must have fallen asleep on the plane when it landed in London. Must have been the pills the doctor gave me to make flying easier. But anyway, I just woke up and have just learned that the plane took back off and ... I never got off in London, Jack. Now I'm stuck on this plane and it's flying to New York. God, but I can't believe this has happened. Now I'm going to miss Terry's party. Will you give them my apologies?"

And Jack is stunned by this news. I can hear it in the way he takes in that breath and then he says ...

"Oi, you gettin' in, love, or you gonna stand there all day?"

I blink and the daydream is over. For shit's sake.

Sliding in the taxi, I give the driver the name of the hotel and we take off into traffic.

I should have done it. I should have just gone into the airport and flown home. I don't belong here. But I know there's no way I would have really done that. Three reasons, and none have to do with Terry. Reason One is Jack. This is where Jack is and I need to be with him. Christ, just the thought of being with him soon has got me all soft and wet and happy. Reason Two is Uma. This party may celebrate Terry's birthday, but it's Uma who's planned it all and it's Uma who wants it to be perfect for Terry. I would never ruin this for her by being such a bitch out in the open. Reason Three is me. I am bound and determined to be an adult.

My hands are folded in my lap. I always do this. In every crisis I have ever been in, there is always this pivotal moment when I am sitting with my hands folded neatly and primly in my lap. It is when I have made the decision on what will be the first, guiding framework of the response and I am calmly entering the execution phase. Execute the plan.

I can do this.

Out the window, traffic zips along. 

No one came to pick me up at the airport and I can just picture the madhouse at the Thorne residence as all those people are both helping Uma and getting in her way to get the party preps done. It makes me sigh and I purposely shove out of my body the way it felt to arrive at the airport only to learn that no one cared enough to come pick me up. But, I'd told Uma ... if things got too mad on this night before the party, don't add to your list of worries, I'd said. I'm a big girl and I'll just take a taxi because it's not that big of a deal. Done it in too many cities to count.

Just had actually had the crazy notion that of all people, Jack would insist on being there to see me. Not that I'd given him the flight arrival information; I'd entrusted that to Uma and just figured that Jack would take it from there. But, then again, Jack has flown in not all that long ago on Air Curry so maybe he is sleeping off jetlag. I get this instant visceral image of him, snuggled into a big bed in the hotel room, warm and asleep ... the way he'll smell all 'Jack' and the way he'll wake instantly and reach for me as I climb in beside his body.

So in my mind, I chase out that sick feeling of not mattering to the group and I replace it with this visual of them ... happy, chaotic, rambunctious. All of them there together ... I can picture them. It's like this Currier and Ives drawing of action.

And with this picture in mind, I haul my cell phone out, turn it on and call Jack. Then curse under my breath to have gotten only his voice mail, but I leave a soft message there asking him to come meet me at the hotel when he can.

Then get to thinking about how very much I miss Jack and how very likely it is that he's got the phone with him and he forgot to recharge it so he might never get this message. So I call the house. And Uma answers.

"Hi, Uma!" I've got on my best PR voice. The one I give people I am shining on. "I don't hear any loud noises in the background, so I'll take that as a good sign."

She tells me they forgot about my flight.

My eyes flick out the window and I have this instant of total disconnect. I feel again as if I am a stranger to them all. And, of all things, I realize I am also missing Maximus. And, in that one instant ... disconnection and connection. It's when I know ... I've only been fooling myself all these weeks. It shakes me to my core that I come to this realization here ... now. The things I've done. The fool I've been.

Somewhere in the vague recesses of my orderly, adult mind, I hear Uma say not to worry. 'They' - the ubiquitous they -- are on their way to the airport to get me. I give her back my PR gay voice.

"They don't need to; I'm in a cab on my way to the hotel. If you don't need any help ... I mean, I figure you've got all the help you could possibly need with everyone there ... anyway, I thought maybe I'd get Jack out of your hair and into mine ..." And I laugh. And hope she buys it. "Can you ask him to come see me at the hotel?"

Yes, she can and will. She will call Terry and tell him. This is how I find out that it's Terry getting Jack to the airport to get me.

"You know we all feel just awful about forgetting ..." she tells me.

"Nonsense. You've got your hands full. I told you I'd just take a taxi if no one was there. I'm fine." Still disconnected. Still feeling the outsider. And now, I'm not really thinking, either. I am at war with myself. No victors here. "He won't come to the party. I tried. I really did, Uma."

"You shouldn't have, Ann, it's for the best that he not be here ... although ... No. It wouldn't be good for Terry. You know that ... I'll let Jack know where you are."

I can hear this thing in her voice ... she's dismissing me. I realize just how busy she must be. I shouldn't keep her on this long, I know.

After we hang up, I watch my hands the rest of the ride in. But in my mind, I'm feeling what he made me feel that night. I wonder if we went farther than we should have together. That was the last night we let ourselves feel honest emotion with each other. After that, we pretended what we didn't feel.

Inside the hotel, I can't check into the room. The room is in Jack's name. Actually? It's in Mr. and Mrs. Aubrey. I am not his wife and I won't even check in that way. Besides, I have no identification that lists me with that name. I wonder who booked us that way?

So I sit in the lounge and wait for him. My suitcase and carry-on are at my feet. I feel the eyes of the hotel's management and know they are waiting on disaster as I wait there ... they must think Mrs. Aubrey will waltz through that door and she and I will ...

And then he's just there. I can feel him coming near and I am on my feet before he's out of the car that's stopping out front. He looks so good. He looks happy to see me and relieved to see me and embarrassed that he's seeing me here and not at the airport. He grabs me up into his hold and my face is buried in his throat and all I feel is Jack. All around me.

I realize only later that I have not so much as glanced at the car that he was in. If I had ... would I have seen Terry out there?

But in this moment, it is only Jack who consumes my focus. How can he not? It seems to me that since he's come back to us in this other incarnation, that my belief in him has created a bond between us that has never been stronger. But it is more than that. It is this way I feel that for as much as I know Jack, I am still learning about him. And somehow we have yet to have real uninterrupted time together since he returned so I am left needy to know him.

He seems needy to remind me who he is.

Jack never even gives me a chance to check out the room. When the door closes, he's got me pressed up against a wall and he's got hands that are all over me. It is ... perfection.

"I have missed you so," I whisper to him.

"And I you."

I hear a rip and know I'll be tossing another pair of panties out in the trash. I feel myself gush at the first intrusive glance of a finger stroke through the wettest part of me. I want to be on my knees before him and I ask him. His heavy, harsh groan reverberates through me.

On my knees. Licking. My eyes flick up when my hand on his belly feels the rippling running through him. He is leaning with one hand against the wall and the other hand is stroking my scalp. His eyes are glazed.

In my mouth. Hard. Impossible for me to take in all the way. God, he tastes so good.

In my nostrils. The scent of man. Intoxicating. Basic.

In my mind. This man. More than I can ever describe. A love without boundaries.

His big hands slide his hardness from my lips and he's kneeling with me. His mouth on mine, muttering to me about the taste of him on my tongue. Then pushing me forcefully down atop the carpet. Urgent in his need. Divine in his drive.

This ... this is just how I need him.

In me. A force that makes me gasp. A response that makes him groan with the effort to go slower. Murmurs between us. Jousting between our bodies as we move in a rhythm that is the stuff of life. Our voices rising with our need. Reaching crescendo as our bodies struggle. And then I can say nothing as I am gripped in a coming that is a wave sweeping out the dust. But Jack can rarely be silent when he comes and I come with him again as he roars out his pleasure.

We cannot move from where we are. We are almost fully clothed and when I shiver at the dampness running from me, Jack takes off his shirt and wipes me dry. My fingers trace his chest and distract him.

Our eyes meet and we both get a case of the giggles.

"You'd think we'd not seen each other in months," I finally tell him.

"Indeed. It is as I remember telling Thorne once ... absence makes the prick grow fonder."

Which only makes us laugh more. I am enjoying Jack's enjoyment of getting more of his memories back. "Have I reminded you yet how much I love you, Jack?" I whisper against his ear as he rolls to his back and drags me in close to his side.

"I believe you have, my little dear."

And this is where we still are an hour later. I am listening to him tell me about flying with Natalie. And then he mentions having tea that day with Darcy and confesses that he is embarrassed that in his enjoyment of his time with her, he uncharacteristically failed to note the time of my flight's arrival. I tease him mercilessly about this and then am treated to his detailed and delighted promises to me for how he shall make this transgression up to me. I am seeing life as it bounces in his eyes and echoes in his voice. I am feeling loved. And welcome.

Later, when he tells me of the plans the group has made for the night, I tell him of the plans I'd made for us. He hesitates only a moment before deciding to stick with me in that night.

And this is why I don't have to see anyone else until the next evening. I know they will understand. I imagine we are not the only couple who opts for time alone. We spend the next day shopping for a lily of the valley plant and walking around the streets of Notting Hill, enjoying the quirky feel of this place and just content to be together. I am surprised by how unconcerned I am that I am doing nothing at all to help Uma prepare for the party. But in my own way, I am contributing by staying away as long as I can.