NOTES: This one was a quick write, as I suspected it might be. Anyway, this second half is Andrew's point of view, filling in some of those same gaps that Margaret's point of view covered in the first half. I hope you enjoy it, the ending is my favorite. But I'm a sap anyway. Thank you to everyone who reviewed the first part! I love reading your reactions to the stories, and my reviewers have been really good to me!

Downtown Song

The dog was licking his face. Andrew managed to unglue one eye and pushed the puppy away, and then he lied there for a long moment and thought, Today is my wedding day. But where was the accompanying resentment at being bullied into it? He couldn't seem to find it.

Kevin clamored back up on his chest and Andrew looked at him, then began to stroke his white fur.

"I'm getting married today," he told the dog. The dog, in an ecstasy of joy at being petted, only flattened himself further against his chest.

* * *

Andrew was standing at the alter. His mother and grandmother kept kissing him proudly, and the entire population of Sitka had turned out to see him say his vows. Including, he couldn't help but notice, Gertrude.

If there had ever been a love of his life, it was probably her. She was agreeable and fun and adventurous in an outdoorsy sort of way. She was close to his age and she loved kids, and once they'd talked about making a family together. In short, she was the complete antithesis of everything Margaret had ever been while at the same time the combination of everything Andrew had ever wanted. He looked at her in the audience and thought about the time when he'd wanted it to be her up here with him. But the memories were oddly dull.

He had never really given up on her, not even after he'd made his life in New York. There were still times when he had been on the verge of picking up the phone and calling her, and up until this whole Margaret fiasco, he had been looking forward to seeing her again at Gammy's birthday party. Of course, the circumstances he'd imagined were wildly different from reality. And he just didn't feel anything of that old passion she used to kick up in him. He couldn't admit there were no feelings at all. A very strong affection remained, and she was still very pretty. But she lacked a certain ( lashing temper? Vicious tongue? ) fire. And so he stood at the alter and waited for Margaret. His bride.

When she did appear, his first reaction surprised him. Gammy's wedding dress was too old fashioned to be considered vogue just yet, and still, Margaret was a beautiful bride. All the heads in the barn had turned to watch her and Gammy approach, though his father had shot him a glance before turning as well.

Let him think what he wants.

Andrew's eyes never left hers. As they turned to face Ramone, he was still sneaking peeks. She looked calm and refined, and it was her appearance of serenity that was making him nervous. He struggled to remember that this was a business deal, but every time he tried, he could feel her death grip on his hand as he yanked her out of the icy ocean and then her wet, cold body smashed into his side as he tried to get her warm again. Or the stupid pajamas she'd brought to Alaska. Or, God help him, her naked and damp and crashing into him at full speed. But mostly just how terrified she was about losing the family the Paxtons had tried to become for her.

He came back to the present when Ramone asked for objections and he stiffened, certain his father had something to say. But no, it was Margaret that had her hand up, and ice ran down his spine. He panicked, and not because she was about to tell his whole family that they'd been lying this entire time ( thus proving his father right ), but because she was rejecting him.

But it was too late, she was already making her goodbye speech.

* * *

There was panic and there was scolding and there was discord as Sitka watched Andrew get jilted at the alter. He stood there, alone, and wondered for a moment what it was he'd done that the whole marriage thing was so damn jinxed for him. First Gert, now Margaret. He was beginning to believe that he would probably never be married, not at this rate.

As the town collapsed around him and his family descended on him demanding explanations ( all except his father, standing near his seat and smug in the knowledge that he was already fully aware of the truth, or so he thought ), all Andrew could think about was Margaret. He tried to conjure up some of that old, familiar hatred, hoping it might comfort him in his desperate confusion. But no. He had to get out of the barn. He had to find her. To yell at her. To demand an explanation. To demand she do what she said she would and marry him. Damn it, they'd had a deal.

He'd forgotten, momentarily, about becoming an editor, or saving her job, or whatever the original motivations had been for this whole production. The only deal he wanted honored was the one where she'd promised to say, "I do," in front of his family. In front of their guests. And since he seemed to be infatuated with her, in front of Ramone.

He brushed aside his mother and grandmother and did the only thing that made any sort of sense out of this entire weekend. He went after Margaret.

* * *

Her note was a crumpled mess. He retrieved it and smoothed it out and then proceeded to blame this whole entire mess on it.

Stupid note.

* * *

The plane was built for transporting the injured or the gravely injured, and it was moving much too slow for Andrew's peace of mind. His mother was stroking his shoulders soothingly and Gammy's eyes still twinkled with the pleasure of her successful fake heart attack, but Andrew and his father were both still and silent. Andrew pressed his laced fingers to his mouth and waited, dying, as the plane made its slow way to Sitka's airport.

Stupid plane.

There was never any traffic at Sitka's airport. Margaret's plane would no doubt leave on time. He lose his best -- maybe his only -- shot if that were to happen. The med-evac plane was just not going fast enough. They wouldn't make it there in time.

Stupid airport.

He stared hard at the paneling of the side of the plane. And though he was not often very religious, he prayed. And prayed.

* * *

The next plane to New York was a couple hours behind hers, and the flight from Sitka to Juneau had left him feeling rough. He boarded the plane, stole a window seat, and brooded out at the world from it. Stupid, rash, efficient Margaret. She was slipping through his fingers and there was nothing he could do but wait out this flight and hope he made it to New York in time. Hell, with his luck, the plane would probably crash before they touched down.

His fingers brushed her note, which was still in his pocket. Along with his grandmother's necklace.

He had insisted on going alone, even though his mother, Gammy, and even his father had offered to go with him. But no, he had to face Margaret one-on-one. She was already scared. He didn't want her to feel as though the Paxtons were ambushing her. Though, in a way, they were. She had made herself a part of the family somehow -- no one was quite sure when she'd become so dear to them, let alone Andrew. But they all wanted her back. Even Kevin had moped when a search of the house hadn't turned her up.

Andrew tapped his fingers on his armrest and glared at the greater expanse of the world, worried. And angry that he was worried. And above all, stupidly, rashly, crazily in love. Somehow. He still hadn't figured out the when and the way of that one.

* * *

He had run nine and a half blocks. Nine and a half. What kind of crazy asshole ran nine and a half city blocks to get a girl? That kind of stuff only existed in movies. But the cab never would have made it from her apartment to the offices in time.

So he ran. And, miraculously, people moved out of his way. After all, even in New York, a man running down the street ( particularly without cops hot on his tail ) was strange.

* * *

Well, he was proud of himself. He'd scored a girlfriend and a fiancé at the same time and proposed in such a way that he had become an instant Colden Books legend, at least in the girls' bathroom gossip. Of course, the Immigration thing was a drag, but he'd handled worse over the course of the weekend. As he and Margaret unpacked her office, he noticed that her cheeks were red and her eyes were getting damper and damper with each blink. Those were coming more rapidly as well. She caught him looking.

"Dust," she said, always strong.

"Dust," he agreed, and pulled her into his chest.

"Mm'okay," she insisted against his shirt.

"Sure, I know that," he replied. "But there's no dust right there."

And she laughed even as he felt her hot tears beginning to soak his shirtfront.

* * *

He took her on a date at five in the evening. They went to dinner and then to a movie, and they walked to his apartment afterward which, though far from squalid, was in fact a studio, and it was in fact filled with yellowing Penguin classics. And, to his credit, Clancy novels. Margaret looked at him and he looked back at her, and then, to his very great surprise, she burst into unrestrained, uncontainable laughter.

And he laughed with her and thought, I did the right thing when I said I'd marry her.

They sat together on the couch and leafed through a couple of the Penguin books, discussing them, and before long she was leaning against his chest and he was reading out loud. Books had always been their common language, it was an easy thing to fall back to now.

"Andrew," she said, and she sounded sleepy.

"Yeah?"

"Are you really a snuggler?"

He paused. "I guess. Yeah."

She smiled and he wasn't sure he liked the smug look on her face. "What?" he asked.

"Nothing. It's nothing." She…well, she giggled, for lack of a better word, and Andrew peeked down at her in surprise. "It's just…well, I figured you would be."

He groaned and smacked her with one of the couch cushions. "I draw the line at hand-cut heart confetti crap," he told her.

"Noted," she told him, but she was still smiling and still smug. And he thought, Humphry Bogart. Masculine. He hated confetti.

"Don't make me club you and drag you to a cave," he warned her, though she didn't look too worried. Finally, he gave up and went back to reading to her.

* * *

They were in the airport. He'd managed not to spill the coffee, and they sat in the uncomfortable chairs that were the mainstay in every American airport. His arm was draped over the back of her chair and he thought he really was good at this whole doting, devoted fiancé thing. It really was easy. Especially since he liked embarrassing Margaret so much.

They both stood as his family appeared, and Annie was carrying a travel kennel.

Margaret turned to him. "They brought the dog?"

He grinned at her and shrugged. "He missed you."

Margaret groaned and he gave her shoulders a squeeze. "They all did," he added, and then her new family was upon them. There were hugs and kisses and handshakes, and as they headed toward the exit, Margaret reached over and very quietly took his hand.

Andrew squeezed hers gently and thought maybe they'd get married in a barn at Christmas in Sitka, for real this time.