He followed his friends out of the room. He didn't look back. He tried to ignore that constant ringing in his ears, the words that echoed back, over and over again, stinging him mercilessly. Maybe now you two could get back together. He could hear the hope in her voice. He could see it in her eyes. It was pretty weird, now that he thought about it. He assumed Maureen's parents were okay with her relationship with Joanne. They always seemed to be so open-minded. They seemed to have liked Joanne and her parents. So how was it that her mother's voice was so hopeful and desperate? And how could he possibly tell her that there was nothing he wished more than going back together with her drama queen daughter?

Maybe now you two could get back together.

Yeah, right. That would never happen and he knew it damn well. She didn't want him anymore. He had missed his chance. He still wondered every now and again what was it that he did wrong. Somehow, she always managed to avoid giving him an explanation as for why she left. Okay, so the truth was that he never had the guts to go and ask her directly, but he always assumed she'd explain, sooner or later. She never has. And now he'd have to accept the fact that they were nothing more than good friends.

Maybe now you two could get back tog-

"Mark?"

He raised his head to meet Collins' worried gaze. "I'm okay."

Collins raised one eyebrow. It was clear that he didn't believe him, but he said nothing. "Look, I'm gonna go and find Joanne," he said, gesturing her jacket, which he still held. "You guys stay here, we'll leave when I get back. I'm afraid the party is over," he said quietly, his eyes following Maureen and Joanne's parents, who had just reentered the ballroom.

"Fine, I'll tell the guys we're out of here," he said. Collins nodded and left.

There was uncomfortable silence in the ballroom. The silent music that was playing in the background before was no longer playing. There was just this constant murmur of the guests, who were probably wondering what happened to the happy couple all of a sudden. They were all glancing at Maureen and Joanne's parents, who just stood there, talking quietly to one another.

Somehow, he felt as if it was his fault. Joanne was so paranoid from the beginning, and lately more than ever, and he knew it was because of everything he had told her last Christmas. Even back then, he knew how wrong it was to say all these things about Maureen. It's not as if he knew anything for sure. Yes, she was a hopeless flirt, but he had never actually caught her cheating on him. It was easier to believe Roger's stories. And she had never denied anything of what Roger has said, so he assumed it was her way of confessing the truth.

Guilt started tormenting him. Did he ruin this for them? Maybe if he didn't say anything back then, all this wouldn't have happened. But how could he not say anything back then? He remembered how angry he was when Maureen called, asking him to come over and help her with the equipment for her protest. Yet he couldn't resist her. He never could, and she knew it and kept using it against him. He remembered being kind of afraid to face the woman she dumped him for. Although their first meeting was awkward, he had to admit that Joanne turned out to be really nice. Yet he was still full of anger towards Maureen, and he had to let it out somehow. Warning Joanne seemed like the right thing to do at the time, but what if it wasn't? What if it had a part in her outburst on Maureen, only half an hour before?

He wouldn't ruin this for them. If his warnings were what started the whole thing, he'd fix it. He'd talk with Joanne about this, he decided. He'd tell her the truth. They became pretty close, more than he'd ever imagined the two of them could ever be. They had a lot in common, and she helped him so much with getting his job at Buzzline. Maureen never knew, but they used to meet sometimes for coffee or quick dinner uptown, when Joanne could get off early from work. She used to buy him dinner, joking about how skinny he was and how he had to gain some weight. He loved talking to her. She was smart and intelligent, and it felt as if she was a substitution for Collins, when he wasn't around to talk. He told her things about himself he had never told anyone. It was an unspoken rule to never mention Maureen.

He made his way back to the table, where he detected Angel, Mimi and Roger, sitting and talking. As he was passing near the giant ice sculpture in the middle of the ballroom, a familiar sight caught his attention. Maureen's jacket. It must have been slipped down the table where Joanne last placed it, because it was now laying on the floor. He observed it for a second and then, against his better judgment, knelt to pick it up.

The material felt soft between his fingers. It carried a faint, familiar flowery scent. It was the perfume he got her for Valentine's Day couple of years back. Was it a good sign, that she was still wearing it? Part of him wanted to believe that it was, but the more logical part of him knew that it was probably not. It was Maureen, after all. She wasn't sentimental. She still used the perfume because she loved it, not because it reminded her of him.

He should bring her jacket back. But where was she? She was hiding someplace, he was sure of that. After what happened, she wouldn't show her face until they were all gone. Should he go and look for her? Collins went to look for Joanne, but Maureen was their friend too; he should at least make sure that she was okay. He looked around him. None of them had ever been in this club before, so just looking for her would be kind of useless. He looked thoughtfully at the entrance of the ballroom, and tried to put himself in Maureen's state of mind. Out. She would have gone out. He turned on his tracks, on his way to the doors.

"Mark." He stopped and looked questionably at Roger, who was quickly approaching him. "Where are you going?"

He had that suspicious tone. He knew that Roger already had an idea as for where he was headed. He said nothing, just gestured at the jacket he was holding.

"Don't do that," said Roger, his expression serious.

"What are you talking about?"

"You know what I'm talking about, Mark." Roger looked at him sternly. "You can't keep saving her."

"I'm not trying to save her, I'm just-"

"So what, you think that just because she and Joanne had this fight, it means that there's a chance for the two of you to get back together?" Was that what he was hoping for? He wasn't sure. So he didn't answer. "I know you're thinking about what Maureen's mom told you. Don't do this to yourself, Mark, you'll end up getting hurt again."

He wasn't used to getting advice from Roger. Usually it was the other way around; he was the one giving advice, and Roger was the one listening, and ending up doing just the opposite. It felt weird to be on the other side for a change. "I don't intend on getting hurt. I'll be back in five minutes and then we're out of here." He didn't wait for Roger's reply because he knew how it might end.

He wasn't sure where to go. There were several possible paths outside, and he chose one by instinct. Just when he was about to give up, he caught a glimpse of her milky white skin behind some rose bushes. She must have been freezing, he thought, a bit concerned, as he moved closer.

She didn't seem to notice him approaching her, for she gasped in surprise when he gently put the jacket on her shoulders. She turned to face him, tears clearly visible in her eyes. "Mark."

"I thought I might find you here," he said gently, although he got slightly panicked now. Maureen never cried. Ever. Well, April's funeral was an exception, but for obvious reasons. Although her tears were silent now, as opposed to that nightmarish day, it was unlike her just the same. "I thought you'd need this," he said, nodding towards her jacket, as if he needed it as an excuse for barging in on her.

"Thanks," she said. She had this tone that he never imagined he'd hear from her. Hopeless, desperate, vulnerable. It was so unlike her usual self-confidence and never-ending drama.

"Are you okay?" he asked slowly. He knew it was a stupid question, because obviously, she wasn't okay. He was afraid she'd freak out. But he was only trying to help. Maybe she needed to talk about it, to let things out.

"Fine," she answered shortly, although it was clear that she wasn't.

"I didn't have a chance to congratulate you earlier. I guess it's kind of useless to do it now, huh?" he wanted to kick himself after asking this. What was he thinking? Would she think he was mocking her? Was he mocking her? But she said nothing.

There was this long pause. There was so much he wanted to tell her, but nothing sounded right. Should he tell her that it was all his fault? What if it wasn't? She was the one flirting with that waitress in front of everyone. Maybe this outburst was only a matter of time, and it has nothing to do with everything he had told Joanne when he first met her. Still, if his warnings had any part in Joanne's reaction, he should at least apologize.

"Look, Maureen-"

"Don't," she cut him off abruptly. "I don't feel like talking about this right now, okay?"

He shouldn't agree to that, he knew. He should insist on telling her the truth. One look at her, though, and he knew that he couldn't. "Fine," he said eventually, feeling like a coward. Then he suddenly noticed a bottle of champagne on a sideway bench. It was almost empty. She was already fairly drunk when she stormed out of the billiard room earlier. He knew she had a tendency to get drunk when she was nervous or afraid. What was it that made her so afraid? "How much of this did you drink?"

"It helps me."

"Yeah, I can see that," he said, and immediately regretted his nasty tone when he saw her expression. She was clearly hurt, although her gaze was becoming gradually unfocused."What is that supposed to mean?" she asked.

"Nothing. Did you think of how you're gonna get home?"

"I didn't."

Before he knew it, she lost her balance. He caught her right before she fell to the ground, and wrapped his arms around her awkwardly. It felt so strange to do that again. "Are you okay?" he asked dumbly, his heart racing, as he slowly led her to the bench. She looked as if she wanted to answer, but couldn't. He sat beside her and looked at her, into her. She was sweating and breathing heavily, and for a moment he thought she has fainted when she closed her eyes, her head dropping on his shoulder. "Maureen…?" he tried to keep his voice calm. He didn't want to scare her. She looked scared enough as it was. What was happening? Should he get some help?

She raised her head to face him. Her eyes were still glistening with the remainders of tears. She looked panicked and desperate. She was beautiful. "Mo-"

She grabbed his tie and pulled him towards her, kissing him deeply. Caught off guard, he kissed her back, ignoring the warning bells that seemed to be ringing wildly in his head, getting louder and louder. He could smell the alcohol in her breath but he didn't care. He missed this, feeling her so close, her lips brushing against his, her heart pounding simultaneously with his. He bit her lower lip gently. He remembered she liked it when he did that in the past. A small moan escaped her as she pulled him closer. He kept reminding himself how wrong it was. They shouldn't do this. He shouldn't fall for her. She released her grip on his tie, her arms slowly wrapped around his neck. He instinctively wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her tighter, as she slowly pushed him backwards so that they were lying on the bench. He didn't even want to think about what might have happened if anyone decided to talk a walk in the garden.

And then rationality took over, and he pulled away and sat up. "Maureen, stop," he managed to let out, in spite of his loss of breath. She looked out of breath herself and slightly surprised, a bit offended maybe, but she didn't say anything, just looked at him questionably. "This is wrong and you know that."

Maureen shook her head. "I don't care."

"But I do," he said softly, gently touching her face. If she only knew how difficult it was for him to stop this. "You'll regret it tomorrow and I'll hate myself for taking advantage of you that way."

"I won't regret it. I promise. I need it, Mark, please. I need you." Tears were streaming down her face again, but this time it wasn't as silent as before. She buried her face in his chest, crying into the material of his dress shirt. He couldn't do much but hold her close, and rub her back soothingly. He had never seen her like this and he knew he never would again. The fact that she was acting like a normal person, letting her emotions out the way she had just did, practically begging him to kiss her, made him realize how drunk she really was. Obviously, she was unaware to everything she had told him. Normally, she would die before she'd let anyone in. She really was a good actress. Somehow, she always managed to keep her masks from falling. "I love you," she murmured, her head still against his shirt.

"Shh…" He didn't know what to say. There they were, the three words he could never think he'd hear from her again. But under the circumstances, he knew they meant nothing. He knew it was the alcohol speaking out of her.

Then she seemed to realize what she had just told him. Her eyes grew bigger as she backed away. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"Shh, I know. That's okay."

"I'm so fucked up, Marky."

"No you're not. Everything will be okay tomorrow. Joanne loves you, she'll understand." He was hurt by his own words. He couldn't believe he was telling her that.

She looked at him skeptically. "What if she won't?"

"She will," he promised. He found a tissue in his pocket and wiped her tears the best he could. "Everything will be okay," he said again. She still didn't seem too convinced.

"Why do I always have to mess up my life?" She was still crying, but she seemed to be calming down a bit. She laid her head on his shoulder again. She looked more focused now, but he knew looks could deceive. She would never say all these things sober. "Why am I such a loser?"

"How can you even think that? You're Maureen Johnson. You can make an entire tent city to moo with you. Don't you think it means something?"

She laughed a bit. He thought it was a good sign. "I needed to hear that," she said. She smiled, looking like her old self again, and laid a small kiss on his lips. "I do love you Marky," she added, messing with his hair.

I love you too. He stopped himself from saying it aloud.

Other voices were heard nearby. He recognized them as their friends. Maureen seemed to recognize them too. She tensed, and raised her head from his shoulder. Her hand instinctively flew up to her tear-stained face, to wipe away any sign of vulnerability.

"You should go," she said.

"You're not coming with us?" Could he really leave her there? She looked okay now, but he wasn't sure. Maybe it was better for her to come along with them.

"No, I think I'll go back with my mom and dad. Maybe I'll spend the night there. I don't think I can handle Joanne so soon. I'll be okay, don't worry."

"Mark?"

He turned his head to the sound of Collins' voice, and then turned to look at Maureen again. He gave her a hesitant look. "I'm fine. Go," she promised.

"Call us if you need anything, okay?"

"I will. Thanks Mark."

"No problem. That's what friends are for," he gave her a weak smile. She returned it. He got up and hurried to join his friends. He ignored Roger's looks and Collins' questions of where the hell has he been. He asked Collins how was Joanne, and it turned out that he couldn't find her anywhere, so he left her jacket with her mother. Soon after that, his thoughts drifted back to Maureen, to her tears, that broken expression on her face, their kiss. Would she remember any of that tomorrow? Would Joanne take her back? When would this damn Tango end? Unfortunately, he didn't have an answer to none of those questions.

"Mark, what's wrong?" Roger's voice snapped him out of his reverie and he realized he had stopped walking. He was looking back, to the place where he left Maureen. They were all looking at him strangely.

He shrugged, turning to look at his friends. "Nothing, I just… thought I've heard something, that's all."

Roger shot him a skeptical look, but said nothing. He wrapped his arm around Mimi's waist as they resumed their walking.

He hesitated another moment, and followed his friends out of the club silently.

Maybe now you two could get back together.

And maybe not.