Written for Starstruck1986 at the 2012 Charlieficathon on LJ. Disclaimer: Do I look like the richest woman in the UK? No? Well then, there you have it. It isn't mine and never will be. ALSO - This story is based on the movie French Kiss and I've used bits of dialogue from said movie in some scenes. I forgot to mention this previously (my fault), so I'm letting you know now.

Dear Severus,

You're probably wondering why I'm not there this weekend, as promised. I could lie and say that Mum wanted me home to help with some daft thing that could've easily been done by Dad or George. Or that my next match with the Cannons is in Italy, and I'll be away for a couple of weeks. There are a number of excuses that I could come up with, but I feel I owe you more than that.

The truth is, I've met someone. Someone fantastic – a goddess really. She makes me feel needed, wanted. I met her after a pick-up game in Bucharest when I visited Charlie last month. Elizabeta made me feel like I was the king of her world in such a short time. Not that you ever treated me as less than special, but even you have to admit, it was getting pretty rough trying to hide our relationship. To be perfectly honest, I think you were a phase that I needed to get past. You know the one where a bloke wonders what it'd be like to be with a bloke? Merlin, that sounds horrible, even to me. But I swear to you, I had no intentions of using you that way. I hadn't planned on meeting someone else and I didn't plan on falling in love with them.

Bloody fuck, I'm just making it worse, aren't I?

For what it's worth, I will always treasure our time together. I'm going back to Romania for a while, and maybe I'll even transfer to the Transylvanian Terrors if I'm lucky. From what I've seen of their last game, they could use a better Keeper. Elizabeta says that if I… well, it doesn't really matter, does it? I won't bore you with the details, but I hope you can be happy for me. I'll just shut up now before I stick more of my foot in my mouth.

Ron

Severus continued to stare at the parchment. Stunned horror could not even encompass the feelings welling in his chest. To have the last two years amount to nothing more than a 'phase' was heart-wrenching, to say the least. To think he had a chance at happiness with the most unlikely of people had been the utmost of foolishness. Closing his eyes to remember the last time they were together, Severus whimpered at the recollection of pure adoration on Ron Weasley's face as they shared an orgasm that shook the very foundation of the garden shed at the Burrow. The sound of approaching voices and the hastily buttoned trousers had provided for a less than stellar aftermath, however, and Severus regretted to this day the coldness he'd adopted when asked why he'd been knee-deep in troll dung while the youngest Weasley male had seemed quite taken with a spade and trowel.

Ron had hated the subterfuge. They both did, to be honest. But they also both knew that no one, especially those of Ron's family and Potter, would be accepting of their quasi-relationship. Perhaps that was the reason Ron had found acceptance by someone else, even someone of the opposite sex, more compelling than a secret shag when and where they could.

A muffled sob filled the air of his cramped living room, and Severus was surprised that he'd been reduced to angry tears. How on earth had the boy wormed his way into Severus' heart? Their joinings had been tempestuous to begin with, but somewhere along the way, they'd become loving and tender – when they could actually meet, which wasn't often due to Ron's busy Quidditch schedule and Severus' flourishing apothecary shop. He wasn't prepared for it all to end suddenly, or to end at all.

With that seed of a thought, a plan began to form in his brain, one that would entail a great deal of finagling to bring to fruition. The Ministry's continued lack of trust towards Severus, even after all these years, slowly eroded his pride. Due to his part in the war, even with exonerating evidence provided by Potter, he was not allowed to just Portkey where he wanted, whenever he wanted. There were channels and procedures he would have to follow in order to obtain even a local Portkey, let alone an international one. Also, there was the issue of money. As in, there was enough of it, but at least forty percent of all his earnings were designated for the War Reparation Fund. He was lucky; the deal the Malfoys received wasn't half as generous. There had to be a way around the Ministry red tape if his plan was to succeed, and he suspected a sizable amount of his earnings would go to making that happen.

Severus rose from the chair, made his way over to a shelf that held different types of pamphlets, and selected one. A picture of the large machine on the front cover made him queasy, and he swallowed heavily.

Remember, this is for Ron–to prove to him that you belong together, and that you're not ashamed of him.

Scanning the information, he found a series of numbers at the bottom of the first page. After finally deciphering that it was a Muggle telephone number, he frowned. Of course. With a sigh, he retreated to his sparse kitchen and opened a catch-all cupboard, searching for the old telephone that had resided in the living room when his parents had lived in the house. He spied a long, thin cord protruding from a bucket, and felt around the bottom before his fingers grasped the clunky object. He pulled it out and hooked it up to the jack that was hidden near the front door, hoping the thing was still in working order.

When he picked up the receiver, he heard static and a long tone. He placed the mouth and ear piece back on the cradle, then picked it up again with the same results. The number dialled, Severus waited for an answer on the other end.

"Thomson Travel Group, Limited. How may we be of service?"

Severus cleared his throat and spoke hesitantly. "I-I'd like to make a reservation to Bucharest, Romania. I'd like the return ticket to be two weeks later." There were several beats before he added, "Please."

"Of course, Mister…"

"Snape. Severus Snape."

"Yes, Mister Snape. And when would you like to travel?"

"As soon as possible."

"May I place you on hold so that I can check availability?"

Severus nodded, forgetting that the speaker could not see him. "Yes," he said after a moment of silence from the other party.

There was an audible click which was soon replaced by obnoxious music blaring into his ear. Severus held the device away from his face, scowling at the black handset as if it had done him personal harm.

"Sir?"

He brought the receiver back to his ear. "Yes?"

"We have a flight available tomorrow morning, departing at nine o'clock from Inverness. There are two stops: one at Birmingham International and then one in Paris, at the Charles de Gaulle airport. From there, you fly into the Bucharest Otopeni airport. The Epoque Hotel is available for the duration of your stay since it is off season. Do you wish to book at this time?"

The thought of boarding a Muggle contraption that flew through the air solely on petrol caused Severus' brow and upper lip to break out in a sweat. Ron is worth this. Ron is worth this. Ron is worth this. "Y-yes. How much?"

"Four thousand, eight hundred eighty-three pounds."

Though the agent on the other line could not see it, Severus' mouth was gaping in what he was sure was a very unbecoming manner. That was more than his apothecary made in three months' time!

"Sir?"

"What?" Severus growled.

"How do you wish to pay?"

He mopped his face with his hand. "Is there a local office where I may pay in person?" He would need to exchange his Galleons for British sterling before obtaining the required documents for Muggle travel.

"Of course, sir. You may visit the Eastgate Centre, unit fifty-two, before six p.m. We will hold your reservation until then."

Severus agreed and ended the call rather tersely. He had no clue what he was going to do once he arrived in Romania – other than beg Ron to come back to him so they could truly be together – but the thought of literally flying by the seat of his pants scared him mightily.

Ron is worth it.

Severus hoped the boy was properly appreciative at the lengths his lover would go to prove that what they had could last.

Severus began rethinking his mantra of 'Ron is worth it' once he took his seat on the aeroplane. He was already uncomfortable being dressed in a Muggle black jumper and black trousers, as he felt exposed. His wand was safely tucked away under his left wrist cuff, but it was a small consolation. Though he'd never considered himself claustrophobic, he certainly felt that way now, as bodies – some unwashed – pressed close around him. Thank Merlin, the seat next to him was…

Promptly filled with a man who sported shoulder-length crimson curls and more freckles across his nose than Severus thought humanly possible. The deep-blue eyes that returned Severus' stare widened in shock.

"Professor?"

Severus frowned at first, but comprehension soon flooded his mind and he winced. "Charles Weasley. What are you doing here?"

An affable smile graced the younger wizard's face. "I could ask you the same thing, sir." He shifted around in his seat, until he found his lap buckle and clicked it into place.

There was no chance Severus was telling the man next to him that he was on his way to Romania to woo back Charlie's brother. No chance in Hades. "I'm travelling."

Charlie smirked. "That much is obvious. I was actually referring to why you're using Muggle transportation when you can just use a Portkey."

Severus tried not to sneer, but he imagined he failed. "You do know about the restrictions placed upon me these past five years, yes?" At Charlie's embarrassed-looking grimace, he continued. "Then you know it would take at least three weeks for me to obtain a Portkey voucher just to travel to Dover. I have never attempted international travel since the Ministry's judgement, and I shudder to think of the timeframe that would be needed for such a request."

"So, being the consummate Slytherin, you subverted the rules until they were in your favour and decided flying to another country was easier than dealing with endless Ministry bullshit." Charlie nodded. "I completely agree. Must be pretty important, for you to go through all that trouble."

Disconcerted, Severus frowned. "Why are you here?"

Charlie shoved his rucksack underneath the seat in front of him. "On assignment for the reserve. Hebrides Islands – specifically Portree. They had a breeding Hebridean Black, and I'm transporting three eggs back to Romania in a bid to increase their chances of survival."

"Why in Zeus' name are you not using a Portkey yourself? I know of no restrictions in place for you."

"Ah, well, that's just it. Hebridean Blacks are notoriously sensitive to magic. That's why there's so few of them. Every time we obtained a Hebridean youngling, it was so sick by the time it arrived at the reserve that it died within a week. We determined that the magic surrounding a Portkey, or any magical travel actually, weakened their immune system. So, we're trying to transport them the Muggle way. There are three eggs securely packed in the cargo hold. Hopefully there won't be too many bumps along the way."

"Bumps?" Severus began to sweat. "What do you mean bumps?"

"Haven't you ever flown before?"

Severus gave him a scathing look. "That's the most asinine question I've heard in ages."

Charlie's retort was interrupted by a crackling voice that originated from a small grate in the ceiling, speaking in rapid and fluent Romanian.

"What was that? It sounded important," Severus said, panic tingeing his words.

"Oh, that was just the pilot. He said there's a crack in the engine, but not to worry, he'll take off anyway."

As if on cue, the plane engine roared to life and started backing away from the terminal. Severus grasped the armrests in a white-knuckled grip at the movement, as he tried to quell the nausea filling his stomach. He was contemplating how easy it would be to pry open the triple-paned window to his left, when a warm hand settled over his and squeezed gently.

"Don't worry; if the plane is going to crash, we'll all be on the ground in a thousand pieces and dead before you know it. I promise you, if that happens, you won't feel a thing." Charlie winked.

Severus inhaled sharply but didn't know if it was that Charlie hadn't let go of his hand or the casual statement about their possible fiery death. He decided not to analyse it too much and instead concentrate on keeping the contents of his stomach where they belonged as the aircraft began to ascend.

Two connections, several inappropriate gropes by uniformed men, five miniature bottles of vodka and eight trips to a disgusting lavatory later, Snape was bent over a rubbish bin and ready to profess undying love to the ground beneath his heavy boots.

"You shouldn't fly anymore," Charlie said, standing to Severus' side. He held the dark wizard's luggage, giving people passing by a nasty glare if they lingered on the evidently ill man.

"Brilliant deduction," Severus snarled once he was able to stand upright for more than a few minutes. "Should I award you House points for stating the obvious?"

Instead of becoming riled by the sharp words as Severus expected, Charlie looked as if he were trying to keep himself from laughing. "Can you still do that? Award House points, I mean. Might help some poor Gryffindor in need, even if they are retroactive."

Severus rolled his eyes and immediately regretted the action. "No, I can't and, more importantly, wouldn't do such an idiotic thing. Now, if you would be so kind as to hand over my luggage, I'll not impose myself upon you further."

Charlie made no move to release the two lightweight satchels he grasped in one hand. Severus idly wondered if the young man's athletic build afforded him the strength to lift weights beyond the normal capacity of a more slender person, knowing that his luggage was quite heavy. He also noticed that Charlie was built nothing like his brother, Ron. Of all the Weasley children, Charlie seemed blessed with the lion's share of brute strength. He imagined it helped a great deal in his work with dragons.

"Where are you staying?"

Severus blinked, nearly missing the question. "That is not your concern."

"Trust me, it is," Charlie said. "Most of the signs around here are in English, but the ones in Romanian are not always intuitive. I'd hate for you to get lost and end up somewhere… unpleasant."

"What about your precious eggs?" Severus gave a pointed look to the large black steamer trunk resting at Charlie's feet.

Charlie shrugged. "As long as they're kept warm and are not jostled around too much, they'll be all right. They're nowhere near hatching, which is the critical time."

"Fine. I'm at the Epoque Hotel. Do you know of it?"

"I hope so; it's where Ron and his girlfriend are staying."

A lead weight filled Severus' stomach and feet. His mouth turned suddenly dry. He found it hard to draw in a breath. Why did Ron have to be staying at that hotel? Bucharest was a large city; surely Ron could've stayed anywhere! He tried to swallow but lacked spit. "Is that so? Why is he there?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

Charlie narrowed his eyes and tilted his head. "As I said, he's visiting with his girlfriend, though I think it's a bad idea."

"And why is that?"

"Why are you interested?"

"You're the one who started this mind-numbing conversation, Weasley. I was merely attempting to feign interest."

"Is it going to be a problem if you run into them?"

"No." Severus hoped no flicker of emotion showed on his face.

Charlie nodded and reached down to grab the handle on one end of the steamer trunk. He pulled it upright and let the wheels on the other end drop so that the luggage rolled smoothly. "Then let's go."

Following Charlie to a line of waiting automobiles, Severus contemplated the sway of the young man's lush arse, liking the way the firm flesh filled the back portion of the faded blue denim. When Charlie bent over to secure something on the trunk before hefting it into the boot of a car, Severus felt a resulting tingle in his groin at the thought of burying himself between those marvellous cheeks.

This brought him up short.

"Severus? You ready?"

Severus startled for a moment, feeling uneasy at the path his traitorous thoughts had merrily danced upon. You're here for Ron. Not Charlie.

As he climbed into the backseat of the car with said man following him, Severus viciously stamped out any lingering attraction he'd briefly felt towards the ginger wizard sitting next him, chalking it up to the genetics of the Weasley clan.

"Wow, nice room!" Charlie whistled. "My cabin back at the reserve isn't even half as grand."

Severus placed his satchels near the wardrobe. "Aren't they expecting you soon?"

"I sent them a note telling them I would be staying in Bucharest for a while and that the eggs were safe." He patted the trunk that was situated next to the radiator.

"When did you do that?"

"While you were puking your intestines out," the redhead said with a grin. "You really shouldn't fly again."

Severus glared at him. "Thanks for the advice. And why is it you're staying here?" He hoped his irritation was evident.

"Ron."

The name caused a visceral reaction in Severus, though he tried not to show it.

Charlie eyed him suspiciously. "Did you know he and Elizabeta are in a room three floors above us?"

"Us?" Severus asked with a raised brow.

Charlie rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, well, I was wondering if I might stay here while in Bucharest. I could try to get into a hostel down the road, but I'm worried the clientele might be a little too curious about what I'm lugging around. I don't have much money, but I could do a sort of trade with you – show you the city in exchange for a place to sleep."

"By the gods, you're a presumptuous little sod, aren't you?"

A very wicked-looking grin spread across Charlie's face. He dug into his tattered flannel shirt pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, lighting one with his wand. Inhaling deeply, he ignored Severus' splutter of outrage. "I also won't tell my parents you're the one who was fucking my brother."

Severus' sounds of indignation abruptly ceased. "I'm sure I have no earthly clue to what you're referring."

Plumes of smoke issued from Charlie's nostrils before he asked, "What I don't get was how you two didn't kill each other. I mean, you hated one another, didn't you?"

Severus thought to deny it once more. "I fear those Muggle atrocities have affected your brain."

Charlie glanced at his cigarette and shrugged. "The nicotine soothes me. The more you hesitate to tell me, the longer his lover has to –"

"Don't ever use that word again," Severus growled.

"All right," Charlie said with a knowing smirk. "The longer this bastard woman has to worm her way into his heart."

Severus groaned and buried his head in his hands. "I swear to you, I didn't know he was staying in this hotel." The words were muffled by his long fingers and curtain of hair.

"Yeah, I get that."

The dark head rose sharply. "Then how do you know why I'm here?"

"Any normal person would've dismissed the possessive gleam in your eyes, dear Professor, when I told them that their former lover resided in the same hotel. I feel responsible for Ron falling in league with the 'bastard woman'. I did, after all, introduce them."

"We tried to be discreet," Severus whispered. "We knew our relationship would not be tolerated."

Charlie took another drag and hummed noncommittally.

There was something about Charlie's laid-back demeanour that told Severus the wizard sitting across from him would not judge anything he had to say. So, seeing the irony of telling someone of his relationship with Ron when it was over, Severus took a chance. "We met after a Chudley game. I was invited by a colleague and they wanted to meet the team members. We were cordial enough, but over a period of time I started getting this feeling about Ronald. It wasn't exactly a thunderclap, or a lightning-bolt, it was more like a...

"Light drizzle?" Charlie said with a snort.

Severus gave him a small smile and nodded. He went on to explain all that had happened in the two years he and Ron had been together – leaving out a few of the more sordid details. At the end, even ihe/i thought he sounded rather pathetic and foolish.

"So, let me try to understand," Charlie mumbled as he lit another cigarette. "Ron tells you in a letter that he's met this woman – no, no, this goddess. He breaks your heart, he –"

"Hurts me," Severus admitted, his voice raspy.

"Yes, hurts you." Charlie pulled in another long drag and released the pungent smoke. "Then you come here to Bucharest so that he can do it again but, this time, right to your face." He shook his head. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry about my part in the whole affair. I knew Ron was shagging someone and keeping tight-lipped about it."

"And you automatically assumed it was me?"

"Not at first. Ron was never the type to express what he was feeling inside at the best of times. An unhealthy trait if you ask me."

Severus snorted. "In that case, you must be one of the healthiest people in the world."

"Ha – bloody – ha." Charlie stubbed out the butt on the bottom of his dragon-hide boot. "But this was extreme, even for him. I saw it in his eyes, though. If I can see you, you can't hide."

An involuntary shiver made its way down Severus' spine at Charlie's words. "And do you presume to see me?" he asked with a sneer.

Charlie studied him solemnly for a few moments before breaking out into a cheeky grin. "You'll become one of those hunchbacked, lonely old men… sitting in the corner of a crowded café… mumbling to yourself, 'My arse is twitching. You people make my arse twitch'."

Severus rolled his eyes and rose from the bed where he was perched. "At least your vision of me is spot on instead of some fantasy I could never live up to." He began unpacking his satchels, missing the soft look of longing in Charlie's eyes.

Two nights later, Severus was thinking Charlie's vision of him as a lonely, bitter old man who mumbled to himself was closer to becoming reality than he had previously thought.

He'd cast a glamour on himself while he'd breakfasted in the hotel's dining establishment, and had caught a glimpse of Ron and his 'goddess', Elizabeta. She was, indeed, stunning. Her wavy blonde hair accentuated her green eyes, and her voluptuous curves were Rubenesque in beauty. No wonder Ron was so taken with her. Physically, she was completely opposite to anything Severus represented.

It also made him hate the bastard woman all the more.

When he returned to his hotel room on the evening of the third day of his stay, his anger was a living, breathing thing, due to the fact he hadn't mustered the courage to actually approach his lover and confront him.

"Can I interest you in a broom ride?" Charlie asked the moment Severus slammed the door.

"No."

"Ah. Still haven't –"

"Finish that sentence, Weasley, and I'll send you packing, regardless of what you tell your bloody parents."

"Oi! Lay off my parents." Charlie's tone held a note of warning. He moved to where Severus stood on the balcony. "They didn't land you in this mess."

Severus turned and snarled, "They didn't? And I expect they'd welcome me with open arms if I were to march up to them and say, 'Pardon, but I'm fucking your son. Do you mind?'"

Charlie grinned lopsidedly. "Depends on which son you were fucking."

"What?"

"Well, if it had been me you were fucking, they'd understand. I am gay, after all."

Severus stared at him, nonplussed. "You're mental."

"As the day is long." Charlie joined Severus in looking out at the city lights, leaning his arms on the balustrade that edged the balcony. "It really is beautiful tonight. I could show you some truly magnificent sights."

When Severus remained silent and introspective, Charlie nudged his shoulder with his own. "Express, don't repress. It's unhealthy to keep everything inside."

"Bugger off," Severus muttered. But after several moments of deep inhaling and exhaling, he did indeed, feel much better. "Fine. Show me these wondrous sights. It isn't like I have anything pressing to attend to."

Charlie gave him a mischievous look before darting off to rummage around in his rucksack. Finally, he pulled forth a well-used broom. "Front or back?"

"Back. My backside lacks padding and the sitting atop a broom handle for hours on end is not my idea of a delightful time."

Charlie leaned over and gave said backside a languid perusal. "Oh, I don't know. There's enough there to grab hold of. I take it you're a top?"

Severus tried to hide the look of feral hunger he was sure the younger wizard could see in his eyes, but if Charlie's lusty stare was anything to go by, he feared he failed miserably. Swallowing audibly, he cleared his throat and muttered, "Stop. You do not want your brother's leavings."

A look of profound sadness flitted in Charlie's expression, followed by anger, before his features settled on something like resignation. "My brother is a fool." He smiled affably again. "Come on, while the night is young."

Severus perched himself behind the bulk that made up Charlie Weasley and wrapped his hands around the slight pudge of the shorter wizard's stomach. He tightened his grip when the broom rose slightly and dug his nails into Charlie's shirt when they took off.

They flew high in the spring evening, the lights below becoming pinpricks that looked like stationary fireflies. Even the sounds of the hustle and bustle of nightlife eased, the higher they climbed.

"Okay so far?" Charlie called to his passenger.

Severus could only nod, his chin digging into Charlie's shoulder, as his heart was in his throat. It wasn't that he was afraid of heights or of flying – at least on a broom or his own willpower – it was having totally relinquished control to another person that terrified him. His fears seemed for naught, however, when Charlie let them slowly drift over a massive building and come to a hover.

"This is Casa Poporului, or People's House. It's the second largest administrative building in the world. It has one thousand, one hundred rooms. Four hundred and forty of them are offices; thirty of them are halls; four restaurants; three libraries and a concert hall."

"Impressive," Severus murmured in Charlie's ear.

Charlie turned his head to look over his shoulder and smiled softly. "You haven't seen anything yet."

Having ascended to an acceptable height, they moved through the city until they came to a rotunda-type building topped with an ornate dome. The way the lights lit up the white marble made the structure appear eerie.

"That is the Ateneul Roman, the most prestigious concert hall in Bucharest. The inside is amazing, with frescos and ceilings painted in gold leaf. We should go there sometime."

Severus didn't feel it was worth mentioning that he had little more than a week remaining in Bucharest, so he just hummed appreciatively. When Charlie turned once again and gave him a heated look, Severus took a chance and tightened his arms around the other wizard. This earned a slight moan from Charlie, who awkwardly pressed his forehead against Severus'.

"Last one," Charlie said on a breath and they rose once more.

Instead of hovering over the architecture as before, this time Charlie landed safely atop the structure and allowed Severus to dismount. They both sat, looking over the automobiles that whirred by.

"This is Arcul de Triumf, Romania's version of the Arc de Triomphe," Charlie said. "It commemorates Romania's Great War's dead and is half the size of the one in Paris."

Severus nodded and then asked very quietly, "Why are you doing this, Charlie?"

Charlie inhaled sharply and Severus assumed it was the use of the ginger's true name instead of 'Charles' or Merlin forbid, 'Weasley'. "Why are you chasing after him after what he's done to you?"

There was no reply for a great long while. Finally, Severus murmured, "Because I'm afraid that if he doesn't come back, I'll hurt so much that I'll just shrivel up and become that rotten vision in your head – that I'll never be able to feel anything ever again."

Charlie moved closer and gently took Severus' hand in his, just like he had on the aeroplane. "You say that now but... after a time, you'll forget." He rubbed soft soothing circles on the rough knuckles. "First, you will forget his chin and then his nose and, after a while, you will struggle to remember the exact colour of his eyes." He caught Severus' attention and gave him a lingering look. "And one day you wake up and – poof – he's gone: his voice, his smell, his face. He will have left you. Then you can begin again."

"I'm afraid I'll never forget," Severus whispered.

Charlie searched Severus' eyes and cupped the man's face with his free hand. "I think you're afraid you'll forget sooner than you'd like." Without waiting for a reply from Severus, he leaned in and pressed his warm lips to Severus' cool ones.

The kiss was not hurried nor was it deep, but it was lasting – just a languid perusal of banked desires that floated oh-so-near the surface. When Charlie pulled back, Severus tried in vain to stifle the whimper that clawed its way out of his throat.

"Let's get back, you're freezing."

Severus nodded mutely and mounted the broom behind Charlie once more. They lazily flew over dimly-lit parks and the dwindling night life until they reached the balcony of their hotel room.

That night, Charlie didn't sleep on the floor. Instead, Severus invited him to share the warmth of the thick duvet, as a warm spring breeze drifted over them.

Severus even dreamt that night – not of the man he'd come thousands of miles to try and convince to remain in a relationship with him, but of the one on the other side of the bed that sported laughing blue eyes.