"This is sooooo great," Jess babbled, unable to endure another moment of awkward silence at the dinner table, while Nick slept off his Dramamine drunk down the hall. "You know, I was worried that you and I would run out of stuff to talk about. But we didn't, at all! Like, for example, we talked about how you liked the chicken we're eating right now . . . and how I liked the chicken. And you told me your favorite color was green. And I told you mine was red. But I also really liked pink, even though that makes a bit of a girly cliche. And I asked you about your favorite TV shows. And you said you didn't watch TV. And I said . . ."

"Jess," Russell interrupted with a slightly exasperated smile. "I know what we talked about. I was there . . . remember?"

"Of course, you were there," Jess exclaimed, with an uncomfortable laugh. "And now I'm just repeating myself! SO LAME, right? Hey . . . did I mention, before, how much I LOVE this chicken?" Jess added nervously, putting a way-too-large forkful of poultry in her mouth.

"Yeah . . . umm . . . is everything OK with you?" Russell inquired, looking at Jess pointedly, as he took a bite of his salad.

Jess hadn't realized, up until this point, that she had been frenetically tapping her foot under the table, for the past fifteen minutes. She squeezed her knee tightly, in an attempt to force herself to stop. "Everything's great . . . totally great," replied Jess, as she gulped down her wine. "Why wouldn't it be?"

Russell smiled. "Because, ever since we sat down for dinner, you've been acting a little weird . . . well . . . weirder than usual."

"Nick's nothing," Jess said, covering her hand over her mouth, as soon as she realized her little slip-up. Maybe he didn't notice. She thought to herself.

"What was that?"

"I said . . . it's nothing," Jess insisted, enunciating her words, as if doing so could obliterate the memory of her previous statement in the older man's mind.

"Did you? Because, it sounded like you said Nick's nothing," Russell prodded.

Jess nervously chewed on her lower lip. "You know, I once read this really interesting article about how most men start to lose their hearing, after age 40," she said solemnly.

Russell gently laid his fork down on his napkin. "Jess . . . I saw you kiss him," he admitted finally.

Upon hearing this, Jess dropped her knife, causing it to clatter loudly on her plate. To make matters worse, she was quite certain she had forgotten how to breathe. "What . . . kiss? Kiss who? I didn't . . . I mean . . . ," she fumbled awkwardly, pointedly avoiding Russell's gaze. "Mmmm, these carrots are delicious! Remind me to get the recipe from the chef."

Russell was eerily calm, "Look at me, Jess . . . please?"

Jess suddenly felt like a teenager, who had just been caught smoking pot in the high school bathroom. Reluctantly, she raised her big blue eyes to meet Russell's seemingly all-knowing brown ones. "Russell . . ." she began. "I'm really sorry you had to see that. I shouldn't have . . . I mean we . . . It just kind of . . ."

"Happened?" Russell inquired, finishing Jess' statement for her. "Jess, I haven't known you for that long. But I know you well enough to know that you aren't the kind of girl who let's things like that just happen."

Jess sighed, and leaned back in her chair. The truth of the matter was, she was dying to talk to someone about this. Making out with a roommate, who may or may not actually be in love with you, simply wasn't the kind of intel girls like Jess kept to themselves. Events like that were meant to be broken down into itty bitty pieces, and analyzed, ad nauseum, with very patient friends.

In fact, immediately after it had happened, Jess had left no less than six messages on Cece's voicemail. Stupid photo shoots, and their ridiculously unreasonable "no cell phone" policies. Jess grumbled to herself, when she finally extricated herself from the yacht bathroom, after twenty-five agonizing minutes (and only then, because she worried that Russell would think she had been abusing the happy face buttons on the bidet again.)

Jess knew she absolutely needed a sounding board for the roller coaster of emotions she was currently experiencing. She just never thought that sounding board would end up being the 42-year old multi-millionaire boyfriend she had sort of / kind of just cheated on . . .

"Nick was uh . . . not himself . . . when he kissed me, "Jess posited tentatively.

"Jess, high on Dramamine or not, the guy is head-over-heels in love with you. Anyone can see that! I knew it the second he tried to save you from drowning in my less-than-a-foot-deep koi pond," Russell explained matter-of-factly.

Jess tapped her chin, thoughtfully. "Hmm . . . I just figured that was because he didn't want to risk losing my share of the rent."

Russell's expression turned serious again. "OK . . . so, we've established how Nick feels about you. The real question is how do you feel about him?"

Jess' cheeks blushed a deep red, "I . . . I . . . oh, Russell . . . You've been so super human about all of this. I don't want to . . ." she began.

Russell smiled sadly. "It's OK . . . You don't have to tell me. I have a sneaking suspicion the answer won't be something I want to hear, anyway. But I think you owe it to yourself . . . and to Nick . . . to tell him."

Jess nodded. Russell was right. She and Nick definitely needed to talk about what had happened between them . . . that is, once Nick was wide awake and sober enough to understand the things she would be saying to him . . .

"When did you get so wise?" Jess asked the man seated across the table from her.

Russell grinned. "Didn't you know? It's one of the perks of being old . . ."

Some time later . . .

Nick awakened to the sight of a large glass eye, positioned just inches away from his face. Whatever it was, it definitely didn't look human.

"AHHH! Alien INVASION! Please don't stick anything up my ass," Nick yelped, shimmying away from the offending orb.

Jess poked her head out from behind the telescope she had been using to "examine" her roommate, while he slept. "Your eye looks so cool in this lens! You have to come over here and check it out . . . Oh . . . wait . . . you can't see it, because it's your eye."

"Oh, Jess . . . it's you," Nick said, with a mixture of relief and embarrassment.

"Yeah, it's me. I come in peace," she added, in her best alien voice. "You know, you're so negative, Nick. Why do you always assume alien life forms are awful beings that want to stick tubes up your butt? They could be kind and gentle individuals, who just want to get back to their home planet . . . like E.T!"

"How long was I out for?" Nick asked, as he rubbed his eyes, and stretched his arms above his head.

"Long enough for me to give you a tushy probe," Jess joked. "You know, you really should eat more fiber."

Nick grinned, but secretly took a peek at his backside, when Jess wasn't looking . . . just in case. "So," he said, with an air of nonchalance he didn't feel. "Where's our favorite Fancyman?"

Jess avoided Nick's eyes, as she looked over his shoulder, out into the harbor. "He's gone," she said calmly. "Probably, for good."

"For good? He didn't jump overboard, did he? Because, I gotta warn you, even if I'm wearing a life jacket, I'm not a particularly good swimmer," Nick noted.

"No, he didn't jump," Jess explained. "But he did have the captain dock the yacht, before he gave him the rest of the night off. He also told me to mail him back the keys, whenever I get the chance. The dude is just way too trusting, when it comes to lending out his Rich Guy Stuff, if you ask me."

Nick studied Jess' face for signs of disappointment or depression. He knew she typically tended to hide her sadness behind excessive optimism and courtesy. It made her frustratingly difficult to read. Lately, he had come to realize that he valued her happiness even more than his own. And that realization terrified him . . .

"I'm really sorry, Jess . . . If I had anything to do with you two . . . Listen, I'll talk to him. I'll make it right . . . whatever it takes," he said solemnly, placing his hand comfortingly on her shoulder.

"NO," Jess exclaimed pulling away from Nick's touch, though the dejected expression on Nick's face, made her instantly regret the sudden movement. "You . . . Russell . . . Cece . . . Everyone has to stop fixing things for me. I'm an adult now. I have to learn to fix things for myself."

"OK," said Nick, looking hurt. "Whatever you want, Jess."

"Nick . . . how much do you remember about the last few hours?" Jess inquired, as she settled back down next to him on the couch.

"Well . . . let's see," Nick said thoughtfully. "I remember driving here in that kickass Bentley. I remember you calling me Underpants Captain a lot. That was kind of fun. I remember you jumping on Russell's bed. I remember puking my guts out. And I remember Russell giving me pills to stop me from puking my guys out. After that, things get a little hazy."

Jess nodded. "So . . . you don't remember . . . kissing me . . ." She offered, feigning sudden interest in the pattern of the carpet.

"I kissed you," Nick said, letting the words sink in to his consciousness. "Oh, god, Jess . . . I . . ."

"And you definitely don't remember telling me that you love me."

Nick felt all the blood leave his face. I ruined everything. He thought to himself morosely. She'll never be able to look at me the same way again.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice sounding strange and foreign to his ears.

"Is it true?" Jess asked, her eyes filled with tears, for reasons she couldn't quite explain. "Do you love me?"

"Yes, I do," said Nick, resolutely, looking her straight in the eye.

There was no other possible answer to that question . . .

Jess looked at him, wide-eyed, for a few, seemingly interminable moments. Each silent second felt like a knife through Nick's heart. Finally, he built up the courage to speak again. "Jess . . . I know this complicates things . . . because we're roommates . . . and friends. But I promise you, I won't . . ."

Jess' lips found Nick's at that moment, obliterating his explanations, apologies, and compromises, with a passion fueled by months and months of pent up emotion that had been swept under the carpet, out of convenience and fear. Nick and Jess. Jess and Nick. It had always been like this, between them. She knew that now. This was just the first time she was allowing herself to truly experience it, in all its euphoric bliss.

When Jess finally extricated herself from Nick's strong grasp, he was staring at her with a look of such wonder and amazement, that she couldn't imagine being looked at that way by anyone else. It was the same way he looked at her, the first time he saw her in a dress . . . and the way he looked at her in the photo booth at the first wedding they attended together. It was how he looked at her, after they spent the night together on the beach . . . and when he first found out that he didn't have cancer.

Seeing him look at her like that, Jess wondered how she could have been so blind to all this for so long. But, more importantly, she vowed never to be blind to it again. "I love you too," Jess whispered in Nick's ear. "I think, deep down, I always have."

Nick couldn't remember the last time he felt so happy, or so complete. For a few moments, they just stared at one another . . . savoring the moment . . . his hand pressed against her cheek . . . her hand on his heart.

"You know what I've always wanted to do?" Nick said, finally, a mischievous grin forming at the corners of his mouth, as he spoke. "I've always wanted to have earth-shattering, mind-numbing, sex on some rich guy's boat, with the woman I love."

"Well, what do you know?" said Jess with a wink, as she methodically ripped open the buttons on Nick's shirt. "I guess that means you're a Yacht Guy, after all."