Yellow (M/L ADULT): Ch. 10 6/21/20

Fics using the characters from Roswell, but where the plot does not have anything to do with aliens, nor are any of the characters "not of this Earth."

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ChemChic
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Re: Yellow (M/L ADULT): Ch. 9 6/15/20

Post by ChemChic » Mon Jun 15, 2020 1:36 pm

Hey guys! Thank you, as always, for the wonderful feedback. I'm glad you guys appreciated how their conversation with Diane and Phillip played out and I hope you liked the little glimpse back into their childhood. There will be another less...innocent memory brought up in this chapter :twisted: These next few chapters are mostly transitional to introduce you to Liz's therapist and to move the story along time-wise. Some cute moments, some sexy time, and then we'll get into a meatier part of the story starting just after chapter 10.

Hope you enjoy!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Three days later I found myself sitting in a small, tastefully decorated waiting room listening to the soft whooshing of a white noise machine. I had mixed emotions about the appointment, but I agreed with Dr. Greenberg and with the Evanses that seeing a therapist was a smart idea. The door to the inner office opened revealing a diminutive woman in her early 60s in a tidy pants suit and pearls. She looked more suited for the board room than a therapist’s office, but her smile was inviting and with a small one of my own in return I followed her in.

“Hi Elizabeth, I’m Jane,” she said, offering me her hand. I shook it and she gestured towards a plush armchair.

“Liz, I go by Liz,” I said, getting myself situated. The room was painted a deep French blue and the midday sunlight coming in through the large window made it feel peaceful. I could feel my anxiety beginning to dissipate. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“I’m glad you’re here, Liz,” she said, folding her hands in her lap. She had a notepad and pen set on the table next to her but she made no move to pick it up. “Before we begin, I want to tell you a bit about my therapy style. It is my job to help you develop the tools to cope with and heal from trauma and to deal with current and future challenges head on. I believe this is best done with a straightforward approach and I am not one to coddle my patients, nor am I one to sugarcoat my opinions or advice. This is a place for you to be entirely yourself without pretense or fear of judgement, all I ask in return is that you are as honest with me as I am with you.”

“I…I think I can handle that,” I replied, immediately feeling at ease. I had a rather concrete preconceived notion of what therapy was supposed to look like and this definitely wasn’t it. And I was more than okay with that.

“Good!” Jane punctuated with a sharp nod. “Now, why don’t you tell me something about yourself that I can’t glean from this intake form.”

So something besides being a pregnant 16 year old orphan?

“I’m scared.” Whoa, I definitely didn’t think that was going to come out of my mouth.

“I’m scared,” I continued, taking a deep breath. “Of not being enough. Of not being good enough. A good enough mother, a good enough girlfriend, friend, of not being a daughter anymore, not really at least. I’m scared I’m going to do everything in my power to be all these things for all of these people and yet still fall short. I am terrified of not being enough for my child. I promised my parents a long time ago that I would never be a statistic and while I’ve clearly broken that covenant, I am determined not to do it again. But that doesn’t stop me from worrying endlessly that no matter what I do, I’m not going to succeed. And it has nothing to do with succeeding for my own edification, it’s about succeeding for those who count on me. For those who are going to count on me.” I finished quietly, resting a palm over my still flat abdomen.

Jane studied me for a moment. “Let me ask you something, Liz.”

I nodded.

“When was the last time you did something that wasn’t enough. Objectively. I’m not talking about a “B” when it could have been an “A” or a less than stellar job completing a chore at home. I mean when you truly fell short?”

I opened my mouth to answer and then closed it again, considering her question. My first instinct was to say ‘getting pregnant’, but I realized that she wasn’t asking about the last time I made a major mistake, but when was the last time I fell short in a situation where it truly mattered. “I’m really not sure how to answer that.”

“As a friend, a girlfriend, a daughter, has there ever been a time when any of the people who associate you with those words would say that you’ve not been enough?”

“I…I guess not,” I said, almost to myself.

“Then why, all of the sudden, would you start being not enough now?”

Damn.

When Max asked me later that afternoon how my first therapy session went, I told him that going was one of the best decisions I’d ever made. I still believe that today.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday dear Max and Isabel! Happy birthday to you!”

We all cheered as Max and Isabel blew out the candles on their shared birthday cake; 17 plus one for good luck.

“Okay, who wants cake?” Diane asked, clapping her hands together with an enthusiastic smile.

Birthdays in our families were always low-key affairs, probably because we spent so much time together to begin with. In the years before my parents died, we would have separate parties to invite our other school friends and have a sleep over or go bowling, but our family celebrations were just our regular Sunday dinners with cake and gifts.

Given Max’s less than enthusiastic stance on being the center of attention, he always joked that the best part of being a twin was not having to celebrate his birthday alone. It was one of those times he was more than happy to let it be the Isabel Show.

After finishing our cake and opening presents, Diane brought out two envelopes from the kitchen, handing one to Max and the other to Isabel.

“Isabel, open yours first, we have to explain Max’s,” she said, sitting back down next to Phillip.

Isabel opened the card and a wide grin spreading across her face. “A complete bedroom makeover? You guys, this is awesome! I don’t even know what to say!” She gushed, quickly getting up to hug Diane and then Phillip. “I can’t wait to get started!”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart,” Phillip replied, clearly pleased that they’d picked such a perfect present.

“Now Max,” he began, turning towards his son. “Even though it is your birthday, you have some extraordinary new responsibilities in your life and it’s not about what you might want anymore but what your family needs. Go ahead and open your card.”

Max tore into the envelope and began to read carefully as we all looked on with anticipation. His eyes went wide and his head shot up, looking from Phillip to Diane and back again.

“Are you guys serious? This is too much, we can’t accept this!”

We? Now I was bursting with curiosity.

“Max, what is it? What does it say?” I ask excitedly.

He hands me the card, shaking his head in disbelief. “It says that they are going to take care of everything for the baby. Carseat, stroller, clothes…everything, Liz. They’re even going to help us put together a nursery in the guest room.”

A rush of emotion crashed into me and I couldn’t help but choke up at their generosity.

“It’s really the same thing that we’re doing for Isabel, Max. Just instead of being for you, it’s for your child. I’m just glad you’re not disappointed,” Diane said, reaching across the table to squeeze Max’s hand.

“Disappointed? This is the most thoughtful gift you guys could’ve given me. I have everything I could ever want, but there is so much that we need for the baby…Just, wow. This is incredible!” He beamed at his parents.

“I think that this might be as much of a gift for your mother as it is for you,” Phillip joked. “I practically had to physically restrain her to keep her from buying everything on her own!”

Diane smacked him on the shoulder good-naturedly and we all laughed.

“Somehow I’m not surprised,” Max said. “What do you think, Lillabet?” He asked, turning to me.

“I think it is beyond generous! I cannot begin to tell you how much your support means to us. How scared I was to even tell you guys - all of you - because I thought that you would be so angry and that you would think we were making the biggest mistake of our lives. But Max was so sure that you would all be behind us and I cannot tell you how grateful I am that he was right.” I swiped at my dampening cheeks.

Diane reached over and patted my hand.

“Damn hormones,” I muttered under my breath and everybody laughed.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Man, I still can’t believe my parents are going to take care of everything! It’s the best present I could ever ask for!” Max said, popping his head out of the bathroom with his toothbrush in hand.

After our family celebration, Alex and whisked Isabel away for a romantic evening which left Max, Michael, Maria and I to watch a movie on the couch while the adults played Parcheesi. About halfway through Kyle came into the living room to join us, calling Amy “ruthless” and vowing never to play against her again.

I was propped up in bed reading - or rather trying to read - House of Leaves. I closed the thick tome and put it on the nightstand.

“I know, it’s pretty incredible,” I agreed, listening to the water running before the light went out and Max walked back into the room. He’d just gotten out of the shower and was wrapped in a towel and I took a moment to appreciate the chiseled physique he’d cultivated over the last two years. It had started with a pull-up challenge between him, Michael, and Alex and it turned into a daily weights routine plus a 3-5 mile run. Not that I was complaining!

He went to the dresser to grab something to sleep in, but I stopped him.

“Max,” I said coyly as he dropped his towel on the floor. “I don’t think you’ll be needing anything out of there tonight.”

He turned around and I appraised him greedily, biting my lower lip and clutching at the sheet covering my bare chest.

“No?” He asked, coming to join me on the bed.

“Mmm mm,” I shook my head and threw off the covers, revealing my own nudity.

Max tossed his head back with a groan and a chuckle. “You are going to be the death of me, Liz Parker!”

“What?” I feigned innocence, lightly brushing my fingertips up and down his thigh. “It’s tradition!”

“Well, in that case…” He raised his eyebrows at me suggestively and I giggled, but my laughter was quickly stifled when he slipped two fingers into my folds.

“Christ, Lillabet,” he whispered, kissing a trail from my breast to my ear. “I’d say you’re more than a little turned on!” He nipped at my earlobe and I dug my fingernails into his back as he curled his fingers inside of me and massaged my g-spot.

He’d shifted so he was kneeling over me with one leg between my thighs. I reached between us and took his thick shaft in my hand, stroking him eagerly and making sure to pay extra attention to his hypersensitive tip. I absolutely loved the feeling of him throbbing from my touch; it was incredibly erotic to know that I had that effect on him.

“On your back, birthday boy,” I commanded, giving him one last squeeze. He readily complied and my core contracted at the loss of his touch, but tonight was all about Max and I was damned well going to make sure of it!

I settled between his legs and I caught his wrist, bringing his fingers to my lips and sucking on them sensuously, licking them clean of my juices with a promise of what was about to come.

Max groaned and his head fell back on the pillow. I could feel him fighting to maintain control and I grinned wickedly. Challenge accepted, Mr. Evans!

I took him in my hand again and darted my tongue out, tracing the thick ridge from the base to right below the tip before closing my lips around the head. I teased him mercilessly with my tongue, my hand working sensuously over the shaft. I was quite pleased when his fingers threaded into my hair, holding me steadily against him and I softened my jaw, swallowing as much of his length as I could.

“Fuck Liz!” He hissed as the head of his cock collided with the back of my throat. I paused for a moment to adjust to the sensation before I began a steady rhythm, deep throating him enthusiastically.

“Fuck!” He moaned again, his grip tightening on my hair as he helped to guide my mouth up and down his aching member.

I hummed deeply, knowing the vibrations would drive him wild and I was not disappointed! He thrust his hips up into me involuntarily and I took the opportunity to palm his tight balls, massaging them gently in a way that I knew he couldn’t resist.

“Liz! Fuck, Liz, if you keep doing that I’m going to come!” His voice was desperate and strained, trying to control the volume for the sake of the rest of the house. We might’ve been living together out of necessity, but still, no one else wanted to hear what we were up to!

That’s the point, birthday boy! I thought wickedly and I redoubled my efforts. I felt his muscles tense and harden underneath me and I knew he was so deliciously close. I tightened my grip on him just a fraction and added the perfect amount of suction.

He exploded into my mouth violently, his tight fist holding my head still as he pumped into me. I’d expected the reaction and relaxed, allowing him to ride out his orgasm while I did my best to swallow every drop he offered.

“Liz, Liz…oh, fuck, Liz,” he groaned, repeating my name like a mantra as his thrusts finally slowed. I released him from my mouth with a soft ‘pop’ before using my tongue to clean his softening member. His hips twitched in response and he whispered my name again as I finally let him go.
I crawled back up the bed and took a sip of water from my glass on the nightstand before I flopped down next to him, grinning.

“Happy birthday, Max!” I said jovially, quite pleased with myself.

His head lolled towards me and he pried open his eyes. “I take back my previous statement. That was the best birthday present ever!”

I giggled and curled into him, hooking a leg over his hips and laying my head on his chest.

“I love that I can make you feel like that,” I said, tilting my face up to kiss the underside of his jaw. “I love that I am the only person in the world who has ever made you feel like that.”

“Lillabet, you are the only person in the world who will ever make me feel like that. There is no one else I would ever want to make me feel like that but you,” he replied, stroking my hair.

“Good. Because otherwise I’d have to cut a bitch!”

“Did you really just say ‘cut a bitch’? Who are you?” Max laughed and I slapped his chest playfully.

“Ow, Liz! Boy’s nipples are sensitive too, you know!” He winced dramatically.

I pushed away from him and raised up so I could look at him.

“They are, hm? So if I do this…” I leaned back down and took his dark nipple into my mouth, flicking it with my tongue.

“Or this?” I massaged the other between my thumb and forefinger.

“That turns you on?” I asked slyly, my eyes boring into his.

I already knew the answer; we’d discovered that bit of information the first time I’d let him touch my breasts. It was the beginning of the summer after our 9th grade and we’d started exploring one another over our clothing that spring. We’d been alone on my balcony during our annual end-of-the-year sleepover. It was about 2 am and everyone else had finally gone to sleep and we decided that instead of camping out in the living room with them, we would take advantage of the fact that we were allowed to share a bed and stay in my room. Being the clever kids we were, we figured that if we were outside fooling around it didn’t count as being in the house with everyone else and therefore wasn’t technically breaking the rules.
We were in our pajamas; a t-shirt and boxer pants for Max and shorts and a tank top for me, making out heavily on my chaise lounge chair. We’d recently figured out just how incredible it felt for both of us if I straddled Max’s lap and rubbed myself against his erection, so that’s precisely what I was doing. I still wasn’t bold enough to touch him there, but I was quite content to enjoy the feeling of him pressing and moving against me. His hands were under my shirt, exploring the bare flesh of my back but I needed something more.

“Max,” I whispered between kisses, my hands trailing up his arms and across his shoulders. “Can we take our shirts off?”

He pulled back from me, stilling at my words. “Our…shirts?” He gulped, slipping his hands down to hold my hips.

“Yes,” I nodded, refusing to feel embarrassed.

“Yeah…yeah, we can do that,” he croaked, looking down at my chest before looking up at me again.

Realizing I was going to have to be the brave one, I reached down and tugged at the hem of his shirt and he raised his arms, allowing me to pull the garment over his head. While I’d seen him shirtless a countless number of times, this somehow felt different. I let my fingers lightly trail down his clavicle, over his pec and down his sternum and I felt him suck in a breath as I stopped just above his belly button.

“Your turn,” I whispered, my heart thrumming.

“O…okay…” I could see him swallow hard. He curled his fingers around the edge of my shirt and pulled it upwards slowly, exposing my stomach, then my ribcage and finally my breasts. I’d been a bit of a late bloomer, having only really developed over the past few months. While I was nervous for Max to see me topless for the first time, I also knew intrinsically that he would never judge me or see me as lacking.

He slid my shirt off and let it fall to the ground, his hands encircling my waist as his eyes roamed my body.

“Wow,” he murmured. He slid his fingers over my stomach and up towards my breasts before stopping, his gaze meeting mine.

“Can I touch you?” He whispered and I could feel his excitement as he pressed against me.

Instead of answering him, I wrapped my hand around his and brought them up to my breast, placing his palm firmly over my pliant flesh, my nipple hardening instantly.

“Max,” I murmured quietly as he massaged one breast, brining up his other hand to cup the other. And then his lips were on my neck as he explored this uncharted territory. He brushed his thumbs over my pebbled nipples and I gasped, his touch sending bolts of lightning straight into my core and I pressed myself harder against him.

“You’re so sensitive,” he commented in awe, rolling my nipple between his fingers and watching fascinated as I arched back and dug my nails into his shoulder.

“Can you lie down, Lillabet? I want to taste you,” he asked boldly.

My eyes went wide at his words and it was my turn to freeze.

“Okay,” I squeaked out, nodding slowly.

He helped me off of his lap and stood so I could lie down on the chaise lounger. He stood over me for a moment and we just stared at each other. I suddenly felt very grown up. All of the things that we’d yet to do flashed through my head and I realized that they were all much closer than they’d ever seemed before.

He knelt between my legs and leaned down to kiss me, his tongue teasing mine momentarily before starting a slow descent downwards. First my jaw, then my neck, and then the hollow of my clavicle. His lips traveled across the prominent bone and finally down my sternum before tentatively moving over the small swell. And then his tongue grazed my nipple before taking it into his mouth. I arched into him, the incredible sensation of wet heat and the insistent exploration of his mouth and teeth suddenly making me desperate to feel his mouth elsewhere; something that had never before crossed my mind. It would be awhile yet, but knowing what it felt like to have him lick and suck at one sensitive made the fantasy of his mouth on my core a new favorite.

He alternated between my breasts and our pelvises found one another again, grinding hard to relieve the incredible tension that had built to a tipping point.

“Max…Max,” I moaned, my fingers threaded in his hair as I held him against me. “Max, would it feel like this for you?” I asked breathlessly, ever the scientist.

He lifted his head from my chest reluctantly, panting. “I…I don’t know?”

“Can we find out?”

“Yeah…yeah, we can,” he agreed eagerly. He managed to flip us over and I settled back over his hips, his clothing covered erection wedging perfectly between my clothing covered lips. This was a new position for us and I decided then and there it was officially my favorite.

I started much the same as he did, sliding first my whole palm and then my fingers over his nut-colored nipples. They were smaller and less prominent than mine, but they responded much the same; hardening and thickening slightly as I teased them with the pads of my fingers.

“How does that feel, Max?” I asked him quietly, studying his face.

“Good…really, really good,” he rasped, his hips slowly moving beneath mine.

I dipped my head down and licked him slowly, enjoying the feeling of the smooth nub of flesh against my tongue. It was as hard as pencil eraser, but more mobile, and I had no question that it was turning him on as much as it did when his mouth was on me. I nipped and I sucked and I played as his thrusts beneath me became more insistent, more needy. This was farther than we’d ever gone before and it felt simultaneously thrilling and very, very dangerous.

The tip of his cock was rubbing furiously against my clit and it was the first time it had been touched by something other than my own fingers and even then my explorations had been tentative. I sat up suddenly, my focus entirely on what was going on between my legs and I pressed down harder against him instinctively, feeling so close to the edge of something for which I had no comparison.

Max reached up to cup my breasts and the sensations went into overdrive.

“Something’s…something’s happening…Max…I feel like I’m going to…”

And then I orgasmed for the first time in my life. Moments later, my name on his lips, Max followed me over the edge and I could feel the heat from his seed seeping into his night pants.

I scooted off of him, not wanting to take any chances and pressed myself into his side, our heavy breath the only sound between us as we tried to come back to earth.

“I’ve never felt anything that amazing before in my life,” Max finally spoke.

No longer fueled by raging hormones, I felt myself blushing a deep crimson. “I thought you…you know, you’ve done that before. In the shower…” I elaborated, glad he couldn’t see my face.

“I mean, I have. Done that. But it feels a million times better when it’s with you instead of my, um, hand,” he said sheepishly and I smiled against his shoulder.

“I’m glad I can make you feel good,” I said quietly, feeling both powerful and highly feminine.

“Have you ever…felt like that before?” He asked haltingly.

I shook my head. “I’ve…I’ve touched myself d…down there, just to see what it feels like. And it felt good. It felt really good, but it almost felt too good and I wasn’t sure what was going to happen so I stopped. I mean, I knew that I could, you know, have an o…orgasm, but it was just…too intense, I guess,” I confessed quietly.

Even though we both felt mildly awkward in those early days of such intimate conversations, the incredible trust that we had in one another allowed us to push past those boundaries and speak honestly and openly in a way many people struggle with even as adults.

“So that was your first? Orgasm, I mean?” I could hear a note of pride in his voice.

I nodded shyly.

“I’m really glad I got to do that for you, Lillabet. I want to be all of your firsts.”

The memory of our innocence from just a few years prior played through my head as I nipped and sucked at him on the night of his 17th birthday. I privately marveled at the changes in his body; in those two short years he went from a lanky young teenager to a well-sculpted, filled out young man. It was spectacular.

“You are such a little minx,” he groaned as I reached between his legs to cup his mostly soft member.

“Too soon?” I asked, feeling him twitch.

“Give me five minutes. You are insatiable!”

“It’s your fault, you know,” I replied, letting him slip from my hand to allow him to recover a bit longer. “You’re just too damned sexy, I just can’t help myself!”

“You’re the one that’s sexy,” he said silkily, skimming his fingers down my back and over the swell of my ass before kneading one cheek firmly in his hand.

I laughed and I was about to settle back down next to him when a thought struck me.

“Oh! I never gave you your present!” I exclaimed, bounding off the bed. I’d ordered it online a few weeks ago and I’d been so excited to give it to him, but I’d managed to keep it hidden in my backpack until his birthday.

I unzipped my bag and pulled out the thin, rectangular gift wrapped in bright blue paper with “Happy Birthday” written all over it.

Max sat up against the headboard and I kneeled on the bed, facing him.

“I hope you don’t think this is too cheesy,” I said, handing him the package.

He unwrapped the present carefully, his expression transforming from curiosity to something akin to awe as the paper fell away.

It was a silver picture frame with spaces for three photos that fit vertically. Above the top photo was the word “Daddy” in a beautiful script and in that slot I’d placed one of my favorite photos of Max at about 18 months old sitting in a field of dandelions smiling broadly at the camera. Above the bottom photo was the word “Mommy” in the same script accompanied by a picture of me around 14 months from the same day. Above the middle photo was the word “Me” and in it I’d placed our first ultrasound photo. Our baby was barely more than a blip in the grainy image, but it was the very first picture we had and I wanted to do something special with it.

“I figured once he or she is born we could put a real photo in there,” I explained, studying the frame with him.

“Do you like it?” I asked hesitantly, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear uncertainly.

When he raised his head to look at me, there were fresh tears shimmering in his eyes.

“Liz, this is the most beautiful gift…I can’t believe that you did this. This is so incredibly special,” he said admiringly, his voice thick with emotion.
I smiled, my heart bursting to see him so moved by such a small thing. He placed it gently on the nightstand, facing towards the bed.

“Now we can see our little Bug every morning,” he said, touching my belly.

“Bug?” I laughed, covering his hand with both of mine.

“What? We don’t know what we’re having and I certainly don’t want to call our child ‘it’, so I had to come up with something!”

“Well, I guess Bug it is! I suppose there are worse nicknames!”

The moniker definitely stuck.
"It's like...chemical" ~ Liz Parker

keepsmiling7
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Re: Yellow (M/L ADULT): Ch. 9 6/15/20

Post by keepsmiling7 » Tue Jun 16, 2020 12:07 pm

The therapy session for Liz was the best thing she could have done.
Loved the generous birthday gifts Max and Isabel received.
And Liz's special little bug picture.....

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Re: Yellow (M/L ADULT): Ch. 9 6/15/20

Post by Stefuh » Sat Jun 20, 2020 12:57 pm

Wow, Liz's therapist is really amazing, I know she will be in good hands with Jane!
God, that chapter was both really hot and beautiful! I'm so glad that Diane and Philip want to help that much!
And Liz's gift is SO cute!! :D I love it. <3
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ChemChic
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Re: Yellow (M/L ADULT): Ch. 10 6/21/20

Post by ChemChic » Sat Jun 20, 2020 11:27 pm

Hi guys! Thanks as always for your wonderful feedback! I'm super glad that you liked Jane; she is actually based on and named for my own therapist that I saw for most of my 20s and much of the advice she gives Liz is very similar to advice she gave me just for different situations, of course!

This next one is a bit long, so I hope you enjoy! I do not own "Lucky" by Biff Naked or "Yellow" by Coldplay, but I'm sure glad I got to borrow them!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~
By the time I was 20 weeks along my morning sickness had long since subsided and I’d regained a bit of my appetite. Food remained relatively low on my personal priority list, but it wasn’t nearly as much of a struggle to get in a full meal as it was even a month prior. It was also the same week we learned that our baby was going to be a boy.

I was going to therapy regularly and I found myself looking forward to my weekly sessions. It wasn’t that I couldn’t talk to Max or my friends or the Evanses, but they all had stake in the issues. Jane was a wholly objective viewpoint and she wasn’t afraid to be entirely honest with me, especially when I was getting stuck in my own head.

Max and I had also begun to see Jesse, another therapist in Jane’s practice, though we were only seeing him bimonthly. While we didn’t have any immediate concerns as a couple, he helped us to begin to work through potential parenting issues before they could arise. What were my expectations of Max as a father? What were Max’s expectations of me as a mother? How did we plan to share responsibilities, how would we manage school and work and finances? What were our thoughts on breastfeeding and baby wearing and co-sleeping? On discipline and nurturing? He made us discuss and address things we’d never even considered, even going so far as to give us homework and encourage an ongoing dialogue about all of these issues outside of therapy. Because Max and I were raised so similarly, we fortunately had very few areas of disagreement, but the value of this type of early intervention was tremendous and I attribute it to being an influential part of our successes as parents.

Even though I had made the decision to sell the Crash Down, I hadn’t been able to take the next step and begin to sort out the apartment or the restaurant. Diane had graciously made arrangements to have the usable food picked up by a local pantry and the rest thrown away so that when I finally did decide to start the process, we would have one less major issue to worry about. I knew that as soon as I said the word everyone would be there to help me, but it was one thing to come to terms with the idea of letting go of the last place I saw my parents and an entirely different thing to actually go through with it.

“I think it’s perfectly normal to feel that way,” Jane said, glancing at me over the rim of her reading glasses. “But I think it’s important that you understand why you’re struggling with pulling the trigger.”

I waited a beat, hoping that she was going to continue and supply me with the answer, but I knew better. I sighed. “I like to think I’m a pragmatic person. My life has always revolved around making plans and executing them and I’ve always taken great satisfaction in my ability to follow through. And then my world imploded and every plan I’ve ever had has gone out the window and I’m left in the wreckage. And the Crash Down is part of that wreckage. So in an effort to regain some semblance of control over my existence, it was only logical to decide to sell. But then there are some mornings I wake up at the Evanses and for a few seconds I think that I’m home in my own bed or wonder if my parents are up too getting ready for the day. Because a part of me, knowing that everything is still there and still just the way they left it, thinks that somewhere in some universe that is actually true. But if I go in there and clean out our things and put a for sale sign on the door, that ridiculous improbability is going to become an impossibility and I don’t know if I’m ready to handle that.”

Jane leaned back in her chair and steepled her hands with a small smile. “Most 56 year olds aren’t that insightful, my dear. Sometimes I have to stop and remind myself that you’re only 16.”

I could feel myself blushing. “Thank you,” I murmured, embarrassed by her praise. “Though I can’t say I’ve felt my age recently, to be honest.”

“No, I wouldn’t expect you to, either. You’re dealing with circumstances most couldn’t fathom, you haven’t a choice but to grow up. And unfortunately this situation with your family’s home is part and parcel. But I’m wondering if you’ve considered the potential catharsis? There is progress to be gained in the process of letting go, as hard as it might be. And there’s nothing to say it needs to be all at once or that you cannot press pause once you begin.”

I studied her for a moment, considering her observation. “Wow. I guess I’ve been thinking of this as all or nothing, that once I started I had no choice but to see it through regardless of how I felt about the process.”

“You need to give yourself the permission to take on these challenges in portions that are not going to cause you harm. There are certain timelines you have no control over,” she gestured towards my slowly but surely expanding waistline. “This one you do. Take advantage of that. Give yourself the opportunity to find some peace.”

That was some of the best advice anyone has ever given me.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“I still can’t believe we’re going to have a son.”

A late May breeze drifted through the open windows of our bedroom as the stereo played quietly in the background. I lay spooned against Max and he gently caressed my exposed belly as he’d taken to doing every night before we fell asleep.

“It’s crazy. Knowing he’s a boy just makes it that much more real. Oh!” I laced my fingers over his and guided his hand to the upper left side of my abdomen where I could feel a flutter of movement. The first time I felt him move just happened to be the day that we found out he was a “he” and since then we’d both been eager for Max to experience it as well.

“Anything?” I asked, pressing his hand firmly against my stomach.

“No…wait, was that something? I think I felt it! Is that him?” He asked excitedly, sitting up behind me and leaning over, wonderment etched across his face.

“That’s him,” I said, turning towards Max with a huge smile.

“God, that’s beautiful,” he murmured, staring at the spot where our hands met. “You’re incredible, Lillabet,” he whispered reverently. “I didn’t know it was possible to love someone as much as I love you right now. There aren’t words strong enough to describe what I feel for you.”

“Then show me,” I replied, threading my fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck and pulling his mouth down to mine.
His kiss made my toes curl, a shockwave of pleasure exploding through my body as his hand trailed from my belly to my breast, sliding my shirt upward as he went. He slipped the tank top over my head and took my full breast into his mouth, his tongue swirling around my nipple before grazing his teeth across the taut peak. I shuddered against him, biting down on my lip to keep from crying out.

I could feel his arousal pressing into the junction of my thighs and I rolled my hips against him, desperate to ease the sweet ache that settled in my core.

His lips traveled from my breast and over my clavicle, stopping briefly to suck on the hollow of my neck before I felt his warm breath in my ear. “We have all night, Lillabet.”

“I need you so badly,” I half moaned and half sobbed, wrapping my arms around his neck in a futile attempt to pull him closer to me. He gently disengaged me and crossing my wrists, laid my hands above my head.

“Stay,” he commanded, arching an eyebrow.

A mewl of protest escaped my throat, but I obeyed knowing that whatever he had in mind was going to be well worth it.

“You said you wanted me to show you just how much I love you so I intend on doing exactly that,” he said, kneeling back between my legs and sliding his hands up the sides of my thighs. He hooked his fingers into the edge of my panties and slowly slid them down, inch by torturous inch. It was such a simple action, but the implications drove me wild. He discarded them on the floor leaving me bare and open before him, a quivering mass of nerves.

“So beautiful,” he breathed. He caressed my cheek with the back of his hand, his featherlight touch igniting sparks across my skin as he travelled down my neck and over the valley between my breasts before fanning his fingers out low on my abdomen.

It was a Monday when my lover told me,
“Never pay the reaper with love only”
What could I say to you except,
“I love you” and “I’d give my life for yours”?

I know
We are, we are the lucky ones
I know we are, we are the lucky ones
I know, we are, we are the lucky ones dear


“I am in awe of you, Lillabet.” His voice quivered with emotion as he traced the soft rise of my womb. He settled between my thighs and pressed his lips against the skin just below my navel with such tenderness that my breath caught in my throat. His hand wandered lower, stroking the soft patch of curls covering my mound before sliding the tip of one finger just barely into my cleft.

“Max,” I sighed, arching desperately into his touch.

He traced my inner lips, down one side and up the other before barely - just barely - brushing against my clitoris, sending a shiver through my whole body. Just as I was about to open my mouth to beg, he plunged two fingers deep inside of me, curling them into my g-spot and sending me all but flying off the bed. I had to shove a corner of my pillow in my mouth to keep from screaming. He took my aching bud deftly between his lips, his tongue nudging back the hood and teasing the incredibly sensitive bundle of nerves just beneath. I saw stars! While I was hardly more than a mess of hormones when it came to Max in the first place, pregnancy had exponentially increased my desire. It was all I could do to keep from jumping him at least once a day and the moment he touched me, it was all over.

I could already feel my orgasm building and while part of me wanted nothing more than to go soaring over the edge, another part of me wanted to prolong the absolute delirium his ministrations created. I couldn’t stop myself from twining my fingers into his hair and holding him against me, pressing my core harder against his mouth and rocking in time with the strokes of his fingers.
And then he took my clit between his teeth and sucked. My self-control absolutely shattered. A primal scream ripped from my throat that would’ve woken the whole house if it weren’t for the pillow and my hips bucked wildly against him.

The first time we made love I
I wasn’t sober
But you told me you loved me
Over and over
How could I ever love another
When I need you everyday?


I was still floating when Max finally kissed his way back up my body and stretched out over me. He nuzzled the hollow of my neck and I curled into him, bringing his mouth to mine and tasting myself on his lips.

His hands continued to wander over my bare skin and I trembled, still so desperate and needy for more.

“Too much clothing,” I half whined, fisting his shirt and tugging it upward. He chuckled and rolled off of me just long enough to pull it over his head. I sighed contentedly as our naked torsos molded together once more.

“These, too,” I demanded, pushing at his boxers that sat low on his hips.

“These?” He repeated coyly, his hand joining mine. “What on earth could we possibly do if I take these off?”

I slid my hand into the waistband and wrapped my fingers around his rock hard shaft and he gasped, involuntarily thrusting into my hand. Gotcha!

“I think you know exactly what we can do,” I murmured into his ear, nipping at his earlobe as I stroked his straining cock.

I don’t think I’d ever seen him take off his boxers so quickly! As he settled back over me, I immediately hooked my leg around his hips and used my hand to press his tip firmly against my desperate core.

And then he slid into me in one smooth stroke.

Remember the time we made love in the roses
And you took my picture in all sorts of poses?
How could I ever get over you
When I’d give my life for yours?

I know
We are, we are the lucky ones
I know we are, we are the lucky ones
I know, we are, we are the lucky ones
I know, we are, we are the lucky ones dear
My dear

Even now, almost 20 years later, there is not a sensation I crave more than that first moment he’s inside of me. The incredible fullness, the connection, the carnal knowledge that I am experiencing him in a way that no one else in the world ever has or ever will.

He set a rhythm slow and deliberate, careful to settle his weight between my thighs. I wrapped my legs around him, urging him deeper, needing to feel every exquisite inch. He pressed his forehead to mine and held my gaze. The love and desire I saw in his eyes astounded me. I reached up and cupped his cheeks, kissing him reverently. I don’t think I’d ever felt so connected to him in my young life as I did in that very moment. I felt like my heart was about to explode into a million shards of light.

It’s time to say
“Thank god for you”
I thank god for you
In each and every single way

We are the lucky ones, dear
We are the lucky ones, dear


“I love you, oh my god do I love you!” I breathed, holding him tighter against me as our bodies continued to rock together at a tantalizing pace.

“Not like I love you,” he rasped and in one smooth motion I suddenly found myself upright on his lap, his hands cupping my ass as he guided me up and down on his thick shaft.

“Max!” I yelped before I could stop myself and I immediately buried my face in his neck, horrified that the rest of the house just heard me.

“Shh, Lillabet,” he admonished playfully.

I nipped at his collarbone and he chuckled which sent all sorts of incredible vibrations through me.

“God, Max!” I murmured against his mouth, capturing his lips in a deep kiss, our tongues mirroring the rhythm of our bodies.

“I wish I could show you what it feels like to be inside of you,” he whispered adoringly, slipping a hand between us to tease my hypersensitive bud. My teeth clamped down on his shoulder and a guttural moan ripped through me as I raked my nails over the slick flesh of his back, trying to find purchase on his skin. I was teetering on the edge of a massive orgasm and the ability to form a coherent thought had left me entirely. I rolled my hips harder against his, desperate for that indescribable release, clinging to him as though I would disappear if I were to let go.

“Liz, oh god, Liz, please, come with me, Liz, please come with me!” He begged against my ear, his words and his strokes and his fingers sending me careening into that singular space of absolute ecstasy. I felt him explode with me, throbbing and shuddering involuntarily inside of me as he muttered my name over and over again.

We held each other, panting, for what seemed like an eternity, our sweat-slicked chests rising and falling in time with one another as we tried to return to earth. He kissed me sweetly, first on the lips, then my nose, and then my forehead before cradling me against him. He finally settled us back down onto the bed and I heard myself moan at the loss of him inside of me. He rolled onto his back and I curled into him, threading a thigh between his, aching to be as close to him as possible. He drew the sheets over our cooling bodies and I pressed a kiss to his pec, grateful for his consideration.

“No one in the history of this universe or any other has loved someone as much as I love you right now.” We were basking in the afterglow for a few moments when he whispered this so quietly that I was almost unsure I heard him.

“It still can’t possibly be as much as I love you,” I murmured back, the emotion of the moment catching in my throat.

We are the lucky ones, dear.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The next morning we were both still riding on a high, finding it hard to keep our hands off of each other even for the few minutes it took Max to put together breakfast for us. I watched him dreamily as he moved about the kitchen, pouring juice and buttering toast. He would brush my hand or my arm as he placed things on the table, but each time I tried to offer help he insisted I stay put. He finally set the last of the plates down in front of our settings and slid into the chair next me, immediately reaching for my hand.

“Max! You can’t eat left-handed,” I giggled, trying to let go of him but he only twined our fingers more tightly together.

“Watch me,” he smirked, picking up a piece of toast and biting into it with gusto.

I laughed, secretly pleased by his determination.

“Oh god, as if last night weren’t enough!” Isabel groaned as she walked into the kitchen, still in her pajamas.

I could feel myself blush about a thousand shades of red and I wanted nothing more than to crawl under the table. I was so sure we were being reasonably quiet!

“You two are so lucky mom and dad are heavy sleepers,” she hissed as she slammed a bowl down on the table and began to aggressively pour her cereal.

“Yeah, but I’m not,” Michael groused as he stomped into the room. I was ready to die right then and there, but Max just grinned at his siblings and continued to eat his toast.

“I felt my son move for the first time last night,” Max bragged, bringing my hand to his mouth and kissing it.

“I’m happy for you Maxwell, but did you really need to tell the entire neighborhood?” Michael sniped back, nursing a cup of black coffee and glaring at his brother.

“You were really able to feel him?” Isabel asked excitedly, her earlier irritation all but forgotten.

Max nodded enthusiastically and I smiled, still terribly embarrassed but softened by her enthusiasm.

“Do you think I can feel him yet?” She asked almost timidly, looking at me.

“I don’t know, he’s pretty quiet right now,” I replied, pressing my hand to the upper left quadrant of my belly where he seemed to be the most active.

“I wonder why?” Michael mumbled sarcastically from his seat at the counter.

“Oh would you stop?” Isabel snipped back at him. “Half the reason I was up in the first place was the chainsaw I could hear through my wall!”

“I do not snore!” Michael shot back indignantly.

“Son, I love you, but you snore louder than anyone I’ve ever known. It’s a miracle Maria spends any time here,” Phillip interjected as he and Diane joined us.

“Whatever,” Michael muttered, turning back to his coffee sullenly.

“So did Michael keep you kids up last night?” Diane asked, joining us at the table.

“Something kept us up and it sure as hell wasn’t me,” Michael griped under his breath and Max shot him a death stare.

“Max was just telling us that he felt the baby move for the first time last night!” Isabel said, drawing Diane’s attention back to her.

“Oh my!” Diane exclaimed, turning to me. “That’s so exciting! I didn’t know that you had even felt him yet, Liz.” She did her best not to sound hurt, but I knew better.

“Yeah, I felt him the morning of the sonogram. I wasn’t even sure that’s what I was feeling, but then we got so caught up in finding out he was a boy that I forgot to mention anything,” I explained, hoping she wouldn’t be mad at me.

“Well, that’s certainly understandable! It was definitely a big day finding out I was going to have a grandson,” Diane said warmly, squeezing my hand.

Phillip clapped a hand on Max’s shoulder and slid into the seat next to him. “So, have you guys thought about names?” He asked, passing Diane a mug of tea and placing two muffins in front of them.

“No, not yet,” Max replied, glancing at me.

Before we’d learned our baby’s gender, we’d talked a bit about names. I knew if it was a girl I wanted to call her Claudia Nancy after my mother and grandmother, but my dad had never been a huge fan of his own name and I knew that he really wouldn’t want me to name our baby Jeffrey if we had a boy, so I was at a bit of a loss.

“Well, there’s always Phillip!” He joked, elbowing Max.

“We’ll certainly take it under consideration, Dad.” Max rolled his eyes and then smiled. As unconventional as our situation was, it felt pretty incredible to be talking so normally about something related to our baby.

“Liz, have you given any more consideration as to when you want to get started at your family’s place?” Diane asked gently when the conversation lulled. I’d mentioned the discussion I had with Jane to her and she’d thought it was a really good idea.

“Actually, I was hoping that we could start Saturday if that wasn’t a hindrance to anyone’s schedule,” I replied, glancing around the table.

“Saturday is fine with me,” Phillip confirmed. “Izzy? Michael?”

Both nodded their heads in agreement. “I’ll talk to Maria and Alex,” Isabel offered with a small smile.

“Thank you,” I replied, deeply appreciative of how willing everyone was to help me.

“I’m proud of you, Lillabet,” Max said softly.

Quite frankly, I was proud of me, too.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Pulling up to the side entrance to the Crash Down was a surreal experience. I hadn’t been there since the day my parents died; I’d even gone so far as to have Max take the long way home from doctor’s appointments just so I wouldn’t have to see it. But there it was, looking much the same as ever. Someone had boarded the front doors and windows, but the spaceship still stuck out of the facade and the staircase still stood, leading to the apartment.

We’d taken several vehicles, not knowing how much I intended to remove that day and also not knowing how long I’d be able to stay. We all piled out into the alley and everyone turned to me, waiting for instructions.

“So I guess I’ll go first,” I said, feeling terribly unsure of myself but not knowing what else to do. Everyone followed me up the stairs and waited while I unlocked the door. I took a deep breath and pushed it open, not sure what I was expecting to see on the other side.

Much like that day, things looked almost disturbingly normal, like there was no reason my parents shouldn’t come walking down the hallway to greet us. I could hear Diane’s sharp intake of breath and Phillip murmuring words of comfort and it hit me again that I wasn’t the only one who suffered such a great loss. They were my parents, of course, but they were Phillip and Diane’s best friends. They’d know each other longer than I’d been alive. It would be like me losing Michael and Maria or Isabel and Alex. My throat clenched at the thought.

We all stood in the living room for a moment, taking in the familiar surroundings.

“Do you have any thoughts where you might want to start, Liz?” Phillip asked gently, his arm still around his wife.

The night before, we all sat down and discussed my general game plan. Since Max and I planned to move out next year and get our own place, Diane suggested that we move any furniture and kitchenware we thought we could use into storage. I’d decided to donate my parents’ bedroom furniture and clothing along with the furniture from the break room in the Crash Down. Now it was just a matter of sorting through all of our family’s mementos and personal items.

“I was thinking that maybe Michael and Maria could tackle the break room of the Crash Down, sort through everyone’s lockers and make boxes for the other employees to pick up at some point,” I said and they nodded in agreement. It went without saying that going into the actual restaurant was out of the question.

“Isabel and Alex, can you guys see to the kitchen?”

“Of course!” Izzy said, grabbing Alex by the wrist and leaving the room.

“I was going to ask you guys if you would be able to start pack up my parents’ room, but if that’s too much I completely understand,” I hedged, realizing how difficult a request this would be for them.

“No, Liz. We’d be happy to do it. Maybe relive some good memories in the process,” Diane said, wiping at her eyes. She glanced up at Phillip and he gave her a squeeze before steering her in the direction of my parents’ bedroom.

“I thought we’d start with the living room,” I said, turning to Max. “My bedroom is going to be its whole own process and I figured we could get through most of the stuff in here before Jim, Amy, and Kyle arrive. That way they can just pack what needs to be donated, rather than going through and trying to figure out if there are things I’d want to keep.”

“I think that’s a great plan,” Max agreed. “Where do you want to begin?”

I glanced around the room, my eyes settling on my mother’s antique credenza. I knew that was where she kept a lot of family memorabilia, so as hard as it was going to be, it was probably the best place to start.

“Hey, take a look at this,” Max said, passing me a pale yellow book. We’d been working for about 15 minutes and were surrounded by a collection of photo albums and keepsakes. It was hard not to get distracted by all of the memories. “I think it’s your baby book.”

I took the album from him and turned it over in my hands. It was covered in textured fabric and there was a Bambi-esque picture of a fawn on the front.

“I’ve never seen this before,” I said, flipping it open. I was met by a page filled with my mother’s distinct handwriting and I immediately started to tear up. It was those little things that hit me the hardest and, frankly, still do today. I took a deep breath and blinked, willing myself to keep my composure. Max scooted next to me and we leaned against the back of the couch.

“I didn’t know you were actually born on your due date,” Max commented.

“Yeah, my mom used to say that I was Ms. Reliable from day one,” I laughed softly.

“You certainly know how to follow a plan,” he ribbed and I shoved him playfully. “Wait, look at this! My parents didn’t know if I was going to be a boy or a girl?” I was rather surprised, I’d just assumed they’d always known I’d be a girl.

“I guess not. And your dad was convinced you were a boy!” Max chuckled, pointing to the next line. “I’m really, really glad he was wrong!”

“I bet you are!” I waggled my eyebrows at him. He turned the page and the first line read, ‘“If my baby is a girl I’m going to name her [blank]” and in the blank space she wrote “Elizabeth”.’ The second line read ‘“If my baby is a boy I’m going to name him [blank]” and in the blank space she wrote “Gabriel”.’

“Gabriel,” I whispered, smoothing my index finger over the indentations the pen left on the page.

“Your mother loved that name,” Diane’s voice came from the hallway. I hadn’t realized she’d walked in.

“She did?” I asked quietly, glancing from the page to her.

She sat down next to us and gently took the book from my hands. “I remember when she was filling this out,” she said wistfully, thumbing through the pages. “All the hopes and dreams she had for you. It drove me crazy that she didn’t want to find out if you were a boy or a girl, I could hardly stand waiting! But she said that it truly didn’t matter to her and that it would be a wonderful surprise to look forward to.” Diane turned to a page with a Polaroid picture of my mother holding me in a hospital bed with my dad crouching by her side. My father was beaming at the camera, but my mother was looking at me, mesmerized. I felt my heart constrict.

“Phillip took that photo,” Diane said, touching it gently.

“So why Gabriel? If I was a boy, I mean,” I asked, still staring at the picture.

“Well, of course you know Elizabeth came from your maternal grandmother, but you also know that your maternal grandfather was named Elmer and your mother wasn’t about to saddle a child with that name!”

“Thank god,” Max mumbled under his breath and we all laughed.

“And of course your father’s father was Jeffrey Sr. and your father had no interest in having a ‘Jeffrey the third’, so that meant that family names were out. They spent a lot of time trying to come up with something they could both agree on, but your mother’s tastes were a bit trendy and your father’s tastes were more Grateful Dead, so they were having trouble coming to a consensus. But one morning your mother woke up and said she had a dream and knew exactly what they were going to name you if you were a boy. And your father, surprisingly, loved it. And it was from that moment he was convinced that you were a ‘he’, because after all why would your mother have a dream about a name she wouldn’t get to use? But, of course, he was wrong, and when they decided not to have any more children, the name fell to the wayside,” Diane explained. “I’m really surprised she never told you that story.”

“I am, too,” I said quietly.

“Well, we’d better get back to it!” Diane said, passing the book back to me and getting to her feet.

I nodded, reluctantly setting the book aside. “Yeah, there’s a lot to get through,” I agreed, my mind still on her story.

Gabriel.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Gabriel Parker Evans.”

It was a bit after 9 pm when Max and I were driving back from the Crash Down. We’d gotten through our portion of the living room and had even made some headway on my bedroom before we broke for dinner and then agreed that we’d all probably had enough for one day. Ever since Diane told us about my mother’s dream, I couldn’t stop thinking about the name. It just sounded right. I’d ruminated over it as we sorted and packed, not entirely sure if I was attached to it because my mother was or if it was truly the right name. But the more I thought about it, the more I fell in love.

“Hmm?” Max asked, glancing from the road to me, clearly having been lost in his own thoughts.

“How do you feel about naming our son Gabriel Parker Evans?” I was surprised by the twinge of nervousness that settled in my stomach.

A huge grin spread across Max’s face and he grabbed my hand. Just as he did, the first chords of Yellow burst over the radio.
Look at the stars

Look how they shine for you
And everything you do
Yeah, they were all yellow


“Lillabet, you read my mind. Ever since I saw that name in your baby book, I haven’t been able to get it out of my head. Maybe your mom’s dream meant something after all,” he said, kissing my knuckles.

Your skin
Oh, yeah your skin and bones
Turn in to something beautiful
You know
You know I love you so
You know I love you so


I rested my free hand on my stomach, cradling the soft swell. We were having a son and our son had a name. As difficult as that day had been and as much as my heart still hurt, in that moment I could feel a small part of it mending.
"It's like...chemical" ~ Liz Parker

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ChemChic
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Re: Yellow (M/L ADULT): Ch. 10 6/21/20

Post by ChemChic » Sat Jun 20, 2020 11:38 pm

Hi guys! Thanks as always for your wonderful feedback! I'm super glad that you liked Jane; she is actually based on and named for my own therapist that I saw for most of my 20s and much of the advice she gives Liz is very similar to advice she gave me just for different situations, of course!

This next one is a bit long, so I hope you enjoy! I do not own "Lucky" by Biff Naked or "Yellow" by Coldplay, but I'm sure glad I got to borrow them!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

By the time I was 20 weeks along my morning sickness had long since subsided and I’d regained a bit of my appetite. Food remained relatively low on my personal priority list, but it wasn’t nearly as much of a struggle to get in a full meal as it was even a month prior. It was also the same week we learned that our baby was going to be a boy.

I was going to therapy regularly and I found myself looking forward to my weekly sessions. It wasn’t that I couldn’t talk to Max or my friends or the Evanses, but they all had stake in the issues. Jane was a wholly objective viewpoint and she wasn’t afraid to be entirely honest with me, especially when I was getting stuck in my own head.

Max and I had also begun to see Jesse, another therapist in Jane’s practice, though we were only seeing him bimonthly. While we didn’t have any immediate concerns as a couple, he helped us to begin to work through potential parenting issues before they could arise. What were my expectations of Max as a father? What were Max’s expectations of me as a mother? How did we plan to share responsibilities, how would we manage school and work and finances? What were our thoughts on breastfeeding and baby wearing and co-sleeping? On discipline and nurturing? He made us discuss and address things we’d never even considered, even going so far as to give us homework and encourage an ongoing dialogue about all of these issues outside of therapy. Because Max and I were raised so similarly, we fortunately had very few areas of disagreement, but the value of this type of early intervention was tremendous and I attribute it to being an influential part of our successes as parents.

Even though I had made the decision to sell the Crash Down, I hadn’t been able to take the next step and begin to sort out the apartment or the restaurant. Diane had graciously made arrangements to have the usable food picked up by a local pantry and the rest thrown away so that when I finally did decide to start the process, we would have one less major issue to worry about. I knew that as soon as I said the word everyone would be there to help me, but it was one thing to come to terms with the idea of letting go of the last place I saw my parents and an entirely different thing to actually go through with it.

“I think it’s perfectly normal to feel that way,” Jane said, glancing at me over the rim of her reading glasses. “But I think it’s important that you understand why you’re struggling with pulling the trigger.”

I waited a beat, hoping that she was going to continue and supply me with the answer, but I knew better. I sighed. “I like to think I’m a pragmatic person. My life has always revolved around making plans and executing them and I’ve always taken great satisfaction in my ability to follow through. And then my world imploded and every plan I’ve ever had has gone out the window and I’m left in the wreckage. And the Crash Down is part of that wreckage. So in an effort to regain some semblance of control over my existence, it was only logical to decide to sell. But then there are some mornings I wake up at the Evanses and for a few seconds I think that I’m home in my own bed or wonder if my parents are up too getting ready for the day. Because a part of me, knowing that everything is still there and still just the way they left it, thinks that somewhere in some universe that is actually true. But if I go in there and clean out our things and put a for sale sign on the door, that ridiculous improbability is going to become an impossibility and I don’t know if I’m ready to handle that.”

Jane leaned back in her chair and steepled her hands with a small smile. “Most 56 year olds aren’t that insightful, my dear. Sometimes I have to stop and remind myself that you’re only 16.”

I could feel myself blushing. “Thank you,” I murmured, embarrassed by her praise. “Though I can’t say I’ve felt my age recently, to be honest.”

“No, I wouldn’t expect you to, either. You’re dealing with circumstances most couldn’t fathom, you haven’t a choice but to grow up. And unfortunately this situation with your family’s home is part and parcel. But I’m wondering if you’ve considered the potential catharsis? There is progress to be gained in the process of letting go, as hard as it might be. And there’s nothing to say it needs to be all at once or that you cannot press pause once you begin.”

I studied her for a moment, considering her observation. “Wow. I guess I’ve been thinking of this as all or nothing, that once I started I had no choice but to see it through regardless of how I felt about the process.”

“You need to give yourself the permission to take on these challenges in portions that are not going to cause you harm. There are certain timelines you have no control over,” she gestured towards my slowly but surely expanding waistline. “This one you do. Take advantage of that. Give yourself the opportunity to find some peace.”

That was some of the best advice anyone has ever given me.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“I still can’t believe we’re going to have a son.”

A late May breeze drifted through the open windows of our bedroom as the stereo played quietly in the background. I lay spooned against Max and he gently caressed my exposed belly as he’d taken to doing every night before we fell asleep.

“It’s crazy. Knowing he’s a boy just makes it that much more real. Oh!” I laced my fingers over his and guided his hand to the upper left side of my abdomen where I could feel a flutter of movement. The first time I felt him move just happened to be the day that we found out he was a “he” and since then we’d both been eager for Max to experience it as well.

“Anything?” I asked, pressing his hand firmly against my stomach.

“No…wait, was that something? I think I felt it! Is that him?” He asked excitedly, sitting up behind me and leaning over, wonderment etched across his face.

“That’s him,” I said, turning towards Max with a huge smile.

“God, that’s beautiful,” he murmured, staring at the spot where our hands met. “You’re incredible, Lillabet,” he whispered reverently. “I didn’t know it was possible to love someone as much as I love you right now. There aren’t words strong enough to describe what I feel for you.”

“Then show me,” I replied, threading my fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck and pulling his mouth down to mine.
His kiss made my toes curl, a shockwave of pleasure exploding through my body as his hand trailed from my belly to my breast, sliding my shirt upward as he went. He slipped the tank top over my head and took my full breast into his mouth, his tongue swirling around my nipple before grazing his teeth across the taut peak. I shuddered against him, biting down on my lip to keep from crying out.

I could feel his arousal pressing into the junction of my thighs and I rolled my hips against him, desperate to ease the sweet ache that settled in my core.

His lips traveled from my breast and over my clavicle, stopping briefly to suck on the hollow of my neck before I felt his warm breath in my ear. “We have all night, Lillabet.”

“I need you so badly,” I half moaned and half sobbed, wrapping my arms around his neck in a futile attempt to pull him closer to me. He gently disengaged me and crossing my wrists, laid my hands above my head.

“Stay,” he commanded, arching an eyebrow.

A mewl of protest escaped my throat, but I obeyed knowing that whatever he had in mind was going to be well worth it.

“You said you wanted me to show you just how much I love you so I intend on doing exactly that,” he said, kneeling back between my legs and sliding his hands up the sides of my thighs. He hooked his fingers into the edge of my panties and slowly slid them down, inch by torturous inch. It was such a simple action, but the implications drove me wild. He discarded them on the floor leaving me bare and open before him, a quivering mass of nerves.

“So beautiful,” he breathed. He caressed my cheek with the back of his hand, his featherlight touch igniting sparks across my skin as he travelled down my neck and over the valley between my breasts before fanning his fingers out low on my abdomen.

It was a Monday when my lover told me,
“Never pay the reaper with love only”
What could I say to you except,
“I love you” and “I’d give my life for yours”?

I know
We are, we are the lucky ones
I know we are, we are the lucky ones
I know, we are, we are the lucky ones dear


“I am in awe of you, Lillabet.” His voice quivered with emotion as he traced the soft rise of my womb. He settled between my thighs and pressed his lips against the skin just below my navel with such tenderness that my breath caught in my throat. His hand wandered lower, stroking the soft patch of curls covering my mound before sliding the tip of one finger just barely into my cleft.

“Max,” I sighed, arching desperately into his touch.

He traced my inner lips, down one side and up the other before barely - just barely - brushing against my clitoris, sending a shiver through my whole body. Just as I was about to open my mouth to beg, he plunged two fingers deep inside of me, curling them into my g-spot and sending me all but flying off the bed. I had to shove a corner of my pillow in my mouth to keep from screaming. He took my aching bud deftly between his lips, his tongue nudging back the hood and teasing the incredibly sensitive bundle of nerves just beneath. I saw stars! While I was hardly more than a mess of hormones when it came to Max in the first place, pregnancy had exponentially increased my desire. It was all I could do to keep from jumping him at least once a day and the moment he touched me, it was all over.

I could already feel my orgasm building and while part of me wanted nothing more than to go soaring over the edge, another part of me wanted to prolong the absolute delirium his ministrations created. I couldn’t stop myself from twining my fingers into his hair and holding him against me, pressing my core harder against his mouth and rocking in time with the strokes of his fingers.

And then he took my clit between his teeth and sucked. My self-control absolutely shattered. A primal scream ripped from my throat that would’ve woken the whole house if it weren’t for the pillow and my hips bucked wildly against him.

The first time we made love I
I wasn’t sober
But you told me you loved me
Over and over
How could I ever love another
When I need you everyday?


I was still floating when Max finally kissed his way back up my body and stretched out over me. He nuzzled the hollow of my neck and I curled into him, bringing his mouth to mine and tasting myself on his lips.

His hands continued to wander over my bare skin and I trembled, still so desperate and needy for more.

“Too much clothing,” I half whined, fisting his shirt and tugging it upward. He chuckled and rolled off of me just long enough to pull it over his head. I sighed contentedly as our naked torsos molded together once more.

“These, too,” I demanded, pushing at his boxers that sat low on his hips.

“These?” He repeated coyly, his hand joining mine. “What on earth could we possibly do if I take these off?”

I slid my hand into the waistband and wrapped my fingers around his rock hard shaft and he gasped, involuntarily thrusting into my hand. Gotcha!

“I think you know exactly what we can do,” I murmured into his ear, nipping at his earlobe as I stroked his straining cock.

I don’t think I’d ever seen him take off his boxers so quickly! As he settled back over me, I immediately hooked my leg around his hips and used my hand to press his tip firmly against my desperate core.

And then he slid into me in one smooth stroke.

Remember the time we made love in the roses
And you took my picture in all sorts of poses?
How could I ever get over you
When I’d give my life for yours?

I know
We are, we are the lucky ones
I know we are, we are the lucky ones
I know, we are, we are the lucky ones
I know, we are, we are the lucky ones dear
My dear

Even now, almost 20 years later, there is not a sensation I crave more than that first moment he’s inside of me. The incredible fullness, the connection, the carnal knowledge that I am experiencing him in a way that no one else in the world ever has or ever will.

He set a rhythm slow and deliberate, careful to settle his weight between my thighs. I wrapped my legs around him, urging him deeper, needing to feel every exquisite inch. He pressed his forehead to mine and held my gaze. The love and desire I saw in his eyes astounded me. I reached up and cupped his cheeks, kissing him reverently. I don’t think I’d ever felt so connected to him in my young life as I did in that very moment. I felt like my heart was about to explode into a million shards of light.

It’s time to say
“Thank god for you”
I thank god for you
In each and every single way

We are the lucky ones, dear
We are the lucky ones, dear


“I love you, oh my god do I love you!” I breathed, holding him tighter against me as our bodies continued to rock together at a tantalizing pace.

“Not like I love you,” he rasped and in one smooth motion I suddenly found myself upright on his lap, his hands cupping my ass as he guided me up and down on his thick shaft.

“Max!” I yelped before I could stop myself and I immediately buried my face in his neck, horrified that the rest of the house just heard me.

“Shh, Lillabet,” he admonished playfully.

I nipped at his collarbone and he chuckled which sent all sorts of incredible vibrations through me.

“God, Max!” I murmured against his mouth, capturing his lips in a deep kiss, our tongues mirroring the rhythm of our bodies.

“I wish I could show you what it feels like to be inside of you,” he whispered adoringly, slipping a hand between us to tease my hypersensitive bud. My teeth clamped down on his shoulder and a guttural moan ripped through me as I raked my nails over the slick flesh of his back, trying to find purchase on his skin. I was teetering on the edge of a massive orgasm and the ability to form a coherent thought had left me entirely. I rolled my hips harder against his, desperate for that indescribable release, clinging to him as though I would disappear if I were to let go.

“Liz, oh god, Liz, please, come with me, Liz, please come with me!” He begged against my ear, his words and his strokes and his fingers sending me careening into that singular space of absolute ecstasy. I felt him explode with me, throbbing and shuddering involuntarily inside of me as he muttered my name over and over again.

We held each other, panting, for what seemed like an eternity, our sweat-slicked chests rising and falling in time with one another as we tried to return to earth. He kissed me sweetly, first on the lips, then my nose, and then my forehead before cradling me against him. He finally settled us back down onto the bed and I heard myself moan at the loss of him inside of me. He rolled onto his back and I curled into him, threading a thigh between his, aching to be as close to him as possible. He drew the sheets over our cooling bodies and I pressed a kiss to his pec, grateful for his consideration.

“No one in the history of this universe or any other has loved someone as much as I love you right now.” We were basking in the afterglow for a few moments when he whispered this so quietly that I was almost unsure I heard him.

“It still can’t possibly be as much as I love you,” I murmured back, the emotion of the moment catching in my throat.

We are the lucky ones, dear.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The next morning we were both still riding on a high, finding it hard to keep our hands off of each other even for the few minutes it took Max to put together breakfast for us. I watched him dreamily as he moved about the kitchen, pouring juice and buttering toast. He would brush my hand or my arm as he placed things on the table, but each time I tried to offer help he insisted I stay put. He finally set the last of the plates down in front of our settings and slid into the chair next me, immediately reaching for my hand.

“Max! You can’t eat left-handed,” I giggled, trying to let go of him but he only twined our fingers more tightly together.

“Watch me,” he smirked, picking up a piece of toast and biting into it with gusto.

I laughed, secretly pleased by his determination.

“Oh god, as if last night weren’t enough!” Isabel groaned as she walked into the kitchen, still in her pajamas.

I could feel myself blush about a thousand shades of red and I wanted nothing more than to crawl under the table. I was so sure we were being reasonably quiet!

“You two are so lucky mom and dad are heavy sleepers,” she hissed as she slammed a bowl down on the table and began to aggressively pour her cereal.

“Yeah, but I’m not,” Michael groused as he stomped into the room. I was ready to die right then and there, but Max just grinned at his siblings and continued to eat his toast.

“I felt my son move for the first time last night,” Max bragged, bringing my hand to his mouth and kissing it.

“I’m happy for you Maxwell, but did you really need to tell the entire neighborhood?” Michael sniped back, nursing a cup of black coffee and glaring at his brother.

“You were really able to feel him?” Isabel asked excitedly, her earlier irritation all but forgotten.

Max nodded enthusiastically and I smiled, still terribly embarrassed but softened by her enthusiasm.

“Do you think I can feel him yet?” She asked almost timidly, looking at me.

“I don’t know, he’s pretty quiet right now,” I replied, pressing my hand to the upper left quadrant of my belly where he seemed to be the most active.

“I wonder why?” Michael mumbled sarcastically from his seat at the counter.

“Oh would you stop?” Isabel snipped back at him. “Half the reason I was up in the first place was the chainsaw I could hear through my wall!”

“I do not snore!” Michael shot back indignantly.

“Son, I love you, but you snore louder than anyone I’ve ever known. It’s a miracle Maria spends any time here,” Phillip interjected as he and Diane joined us.

“Whatever,” Michael muttered, turning back to his coffee sullenly.

“So did Michael keep you kids up last night?” Diane asked, joining us at the table.

“Something kept us up and it sure as hell wasn’t me,” Michael griped under his breath and Max shot him a death stare.

“Max was just telling us that he felt the baby move for the first time last night!” Isabel said, drawing Diane’s attention back to her.

“Oh my!” Diane exclaimed, turning to me. “That’s so exciting! I didn’t know that you had even felt him yet, Liz.” She did her best not to sound hurt, but I knew better.

“Yeah, I felt him the morning of the sonogram. I wasn’t even sure that’s what I was feeling, but then we got so caught up in finding out he was a boy that I forgot to mention anything,” I explained, hoping she wouldn’t be mad at me.

“Well, that’s certainly understandable! It was definitely a big day finding out I was going to have a grandson,” Diane said warmly, squeezing my hand.

Phillip clapped a hand on Max’s shoulder and slid into the seat next to him. “So, have you guys thought about names?” He asked, passing Diane a mug of tea and placing two muffins in front of them.

“No, not yet,” Max replied, glancing at me.

Before we’d learned our baby’s gender, we’d talked a bit about names. I knew if it was a girl I wanted to call her Claudia Nancy after my mother and grandmother, but my dad had never been a huge fan of his own name and I knew that he really wouldn’t want me to name our baby Jeffrey if we had a boy, so I was at a bit of a loss.

“Well, there’s always Phillip!” He joked, elbowing Max.

“We’ll certainly take it under consideration, Dad.” Max rolled his eyes and then smiled. As unconventional as our situation was, it felt pretty incredible to be talking so normally about something related to our baby.

“Liz, have you given any more consideration as to when you want to get started at your family’s place?” Diane asked gently when the conversation lulled. I’d mentioned the discussion I had with Jane to her and she’d thought it was a really good idea.

“Actually, I was hoping that we could start Saturday if that wasn’t a hindrance to anyone’s schedule,” I replied, glancing around the table.

“Saturday is fine with me,” Phillip confirmed. “Izzy? Michael?”

Both nodded their heads in agreement. “I’ll talk to Maria and Alex,” Isabel offered with a small smile.

“Thank you,” I replied, deeply appreciative of how willing everyone was to help me.

“I’m proud of you, Lillabet,” Max said softly.

Quite frankly, I was proud of me, too.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Pulling up to the side entrance to the Crash Down was a surreal experience. I hadn’t been there since the day my parents died; I’d even gone so far as to have Max take the long way home from doctor’s appointments just so I wouldn’t have to see it. But there it was, looking much the same as ever. Someone had boarded the front doors and windows, but the spaceship still stuck out of the facade and the staircase still stood, leading to the apartment.

We’d taken several vehicles, not knowing how much I intended to remove that day and also not knowing how long I’d be able to stay. We all piled out into the alley and everyone turned to me, waiting for instructions.

“So I guess I’ll go first,” I said, feeling terribly unsure of myself but not knowing what else to do. Everyone followed me up the stairs and waited while I unlocked the door. I took a deep breath and pushed it open, not sure what I was expecting to see on the other side.

Much like that day, things looked almost disturbingly normal, like there was no reason my parents shouldn’t come walking down the hallway to greet us. I could hear Diane’s sharp intake of breath and Phillip murmuring words of comfort and it hit me again that I wasn’t the only one who suffered such a great loss. They were my parents, of course, but they were Phillip and Diane’s best friends. They’d know each other longer than I’d been alive. It would be like me losing Michael and Maria or Isabel and Alex. My throat clenched at the thought.

We all stood in the living room for a moment, taking in the familiar surroundings.

“Do you have any thoughts where you might want to start, Liz?” Phillip asked gently, his arm still around his wife.

The night before, we all sat down and discussed my general game plan. Since Max and I planned to move out next year and get our own place, Diane suggested that we move any furniture and kitchenware we thought we could use into storage. I’d decided to donate my parents’ bedroom furniture and clothing along with the furniture from the break room in the Crash Down. Now it was just a matter of sorting through all of our family’s mementos and personal items.

“I was thinking that maybe Michael and Maria could tackle the break room of the Crash Down, sort through everyone’s lockers and make boxes for the other employees to pick up at some point,” I said and they nodded in agreement. It went without saying that going into the actual restaurant was out of the question.

“Isabel and Alex, can you guys see to the kitchen?”

“Of course!” Izzy said, grabbing Alex by the wrist and leaving the room.

“I was going to ask you guys if you would be able to start pack up my parents’ room, but if that’s too much I completely understand,” I hedged, realizing how difficult a request this would be for them.

“No, Liz. We’d be happy to do it. Maybe relive some good memories in the process,” Diane said, wiping at her eyes. She glanced up at Phillip and he gave her a squeeze before steering her in the direction of my parents’ bedroom.

“I thought we’d start with the living room,” I said, turning to Max. “My bedroom is going to be its whole own process and I figured we could get through most of the stuff in here before Jim, Amy, and Kyle arrive. That way they can just pack what needs to be donated, rather than going through and trying to figure out if there are things I’d want to keep.”

“I think that’s a great plan,” Max agreed. “Where do you want to begin?”

I glanced around the room, my eyes settling on my mother’s antique credenza. I knew that was where she kept a lot of family memorabilia, so as hard as it was going to be, it was probably the best place to start.

“Hey, take a look at this,” Max said, passing me a pale yellow book. We’d been working for about 15 minutes and were surrounded by a collection of photo albums and keepsakes. It was hard not to get distracted by all of the memories. “I think it’s your baby book.”

I took the album from him and turned it over in my hands. It was covered in textured fabric and there was a Bambi-esque picture of a fawn on the front.

“I’ve never seen this before,” I said, flipping it open. I was met by a page filled with my mother’s distinct handwriting and I immediately started to tear up. It was those little things that hit me the hardest and, frankly, still do today. I took a deep breath and blinked, willing myself to keep my composure. Max scooted next to me and we leaned against the back of the couch.

“I didn’t know you were actually born on your due date,” Max commented.

“Yeah, my mom used to say that I was Ms. Reliable from day one,” I laughed softly.

“You certainly know how to follow a plan,” he ribbed and I shoved him playfully. “Wait, look at this! My parents didn’t know if I was going to be a boy or a girl?” I was rather surprised, I’d just assumed they’d always known I’d be a girl.

“I guess not. And your dad was convinced you were a boy!” Max chuckled, pointing to the next line. “I’m really, really glad he was wrong!”

“I bet you are!” I waggled my eyebrows at him. He turned the page and the first line read, ‘“If my baby is a girl I’m going to name her [blank]” and in the blank space she wrote “Elizabeth”.’ The second line read ‘“If my baby is a boy I’m going to name him [blank]” and in the blank space she wrote “Gabriel”.’

“Gabriel,” I whispered, smoothing my index finger over the indentations the pen left on the page.

“Your mother loved that name,” Diane’s voice came from the hallway. I hadn’t realized she’d walked in.

“She did?” I asked quietly, glancing from the page to her.

She sat down next to us and gently took the book from my hands. “I remember when she was filling this out,” she said wistfully, thumbing through the pages. “All the hopes and dreams she had for you. It drove me crazy that she didn’t want to find out if you were a boy or a girl, I could hardly stand waiting! But she said that it truly didn’t matter to her and that it would be a wonderful surprise to look forward to.” Diane turned to a page with a Polaroid picture of my mother holding me in a hospital bed with my dad crouching by her side. My father was beaming at the camera, but my mother was looking at me, mesmerized. I felt my heart constrict.

“Phillip took that photo,” Diane said, touching it gently.

“So why Gabriel? If I was a boy, I mean,” I asked, still staring at the picture.

“Well, of course you know Elizabeth came from your maternal grandmother, but you also know that your maternal grandfather was named Elmer and your mother wasn’t about to saddle a child with that name!”



“Thank god,” Max mumbled under his breath and we all laughed.

“And of course your father’s father was Jeffrey Sr. and your father had no interest in having a ‘Jeffrey the third’, so that meant that family names were out. They spent a lot of time trying to come up with something they could both agree on, but your mother’s tastes were a bit trendy and your father’s tastes were more Grateful Dead, so they were having trouble coming to a consensus. But one morning your mother woke up and said she had a dream and knew exactly what they were going to name you if you were a boy. And your father, surprisingly, loved it. And it was from that moment he was convinced that you were a ‘he’, because after all why would your mother have a dream about a name she wouldn’t get to use? But, of course, he was wrong, and when they decided not to have any more children, the name fell to the wayside,” Diane explained. “I’m really surprised she never told you that story.”

“I am, too,” I said quietly.

“Well, we’d better get back to it!” Diane said, passing the book back to me and getting to her feet.

I nodded, reluctantly setting the book aside. “Yeah, there’s a lot to get through,” I agreed, my mind still on her story.

Gabriel.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Gabriel Parker Evans.”

It was a bit after 9 pm when Max and I were driving back from the Crash Down. We’d gotten through our portion of the living room and had even made some headway on my bedroom before we broke for dinner and then agreed that we’d all probably had enough for one day. Ever since Diane told us about my mother’s dream, I couldn’t stop thinking about the name. It just sounded right. I’d ruminated over it as we sorted and packed, not entirely sure if I was attached to it because my mother was or if it was truly the right name. But the more I thought about it, the more I fell in love.

“Hmm?” Max asked, glancing from the road to me, clearly having been lost in his own thoughts.

“How do you feel about naming our son Gabriel Parker Evans?” I was surprised by the twinge of nervousness that settled in my stomach.

A huge grin spread across Max’s face and he grabbed my hand. Just as he did, the first chords of Yellow burst over the radio.
Look at the stars

Look how they shine for you
And everything you do
Yeah, they were all yellow


“Lillabet, you read my mind. Ever since I saw that name in your baby book, I haven’t been able to get it out of my head. Maybe your mom’s dream meant something after all,” he said, kissing my knuckles.

Your skin
Oh, yeah your skin and bones
Turn in to something beautiful
You know
You know I love you so
You know I love you so


I rested my free hand on my stomach, cradling the soft swell. We were having a son and our son had a name. As difficult as that day had been and as much as my heart still hurt, in that moment I could feel a small part of it mending.
"It's like...chemical" ~ Liz Parker

keepsmiling7
Roswell Fanatic
Posts: 2384
Joined: Thu Jun 28, 2007 9:34 pm

Re: Yellow (M/L ADULT): Ch. 10 6/21/20

Post by keepsmiling7 » Sun Jun 21, 2020 8:42 am

Glad Jane was completely honest with Liz. She needed that.
Also happy Max is seeing someone too.
Big decision is made.......sell the Crashdown.
With Diane's help, and that of the rest of the family and their friends, the work begins.
Never to forget moment when Max first felt his son move.
Gabriel.......and the history to go with it.

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Stefuh
Enthusiastic Roswellian
Posts: 47
Joined: Wed Dec 30, 2009 1:55 pm
Location: Quebec, Canada.

Re: Yellow (M/L ADULT): Ch. 10 6/21/20

Post by Stefuh » Sun Jun 21, 2020 9:23 pm

It brought me to tears that Liz found her future son's name because of her mother, that's so beautiful!
I'm so glad that Max could feel the baby!! :D That was so cute.
I'm sure that clearing out the Crashdown will bring Liz some peace, since it won't weight down on her shoulders anymore.
And I love Lucky by Biff Naked! Such an amazing song.
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