[home]

[donna pov]

Feels like home to me. Feels like I’m all the way back where I belong. – ‘Feels Like Home’ Chantal Kreviazuk

There were times when I missed the White House. When I went back to DC and went out with all my friends, they’d start talking about something that was going on at work, or something that someone had done whilst I wasn’t there. I’d sit there and listen, unable to join in.

Eventually, someone would notice my puzzled look and would fill me in on what had happened. And I’d understand, but I knew that it wasn’t the same as experiencing it for myself.

I missed that.

But there was nothing that I could do. I’d had my chance and I’d decided to move away and start again.

Don’t get me wrong, I loved this new life. My friends in Boston were great and, for the most part, I was really enjoying myself again.

But it was on those occasions when I missed DC that I *really* missed DC and all that went with it.

Standing in the Campaign headquarters minutes before the results of the election were called was one of these times. In a way, it was a reminder of what I’d given up, but at the same time I almost felt that I belonged. I felt myself caught up in the anxiety, the excitement and the atmosphere. It was almost as if I hadn’t left, except for the knowledge that in two days I had to go back to the place I now called home. I tried to let myself forget for a few minutes.

Josh grabbed my hand perhaps a little too tight, but I didn’t care. I just smiled at him, glad to be there at that moment.

Then the results were announced and I felt myself get caught up in the emotion. They’d won; we’d won. Everyone started cheering and hugging and kissing and Josh pulled me into an embrace, before letting me go and hugging everyone around us.

Later, I stood looking at all my old colleagues and, while I was happy for them, I couldn’t help but feel left out of it. Then Sam grabbed me again and told me how glad he was that I’d come, so I pushed the feelings aside and joined in the celebration.

After a while it got too hot so I stepped outside for a brief respite. It was a freezing night in November, but it’s quite possible that I was slightly too drunk to actually feel it. Josh followed me out and we stood there a few minutes saying nothing, just looking at each other. I remember thinking that he was going to kiss me, that I wanted him to, but instead he leaned in and hugged me, kissing my cheek. I was slightly disappointed, but more so with myself because I hadn’t done anything about it.

I could see where we were headed, where we could end up, but I felt helpless to change it. And despite our history I wasn’t sure that he felt the same way. I wasn’t about to embarrass myself completely by declaring my undying love just to hear him say that he thought we should just be friends.

I wasn’t even sure we should be anything more than friends.

We went back inside as the party was beginning to wind down. Sam, however, didn’t want it to end, deciding instead that we should all start dancing. I just laughed at him and grabbed another glass of the champagne. I’d barely begun to drink it when Sam came up to me and insisted that I join him. I was unprepared for his… enthusiasm, for want of a better description, and was glad when Josh came over to rescue me.

We could have stopped dancing, just watched from a distance. And when the CD was changed to a very familiar song, I considered making an excuse to sit out. I looked over at Sam and I knew he’d done it on purpose. I could see that Josh remembered the song, but I wasn’t sure if he could place it. And for a few seconds I stood there awkwardly, unsure of what to do. I thought he was going to suggest that we leave the dance floor, and I would have agreed, but instead he pulled me closer to him and whispered, “I think we should kill Sam for this.”

“You remember?” I asked, pretty much stating the obvious.

“Of course I remember, I remembered everything,” he said. There was a pause before amending this statement. “Okay, so I remember some of it. There’s only so much I can do after two glasses of champagne, after all.”

I smiled involuntarily, perhaps a little too glad.

“I’d be more than happy to assist you in killing Sam,” I eventually whispered, after regaining control of my emotions. He grinned, dimples and all.

We danced for a while longer until it was obvious that the party really was breaking up. Only the really drunk remained, the slightly more sober trying to coax them into finally going home.

It was only when Josh asked me where I was staying that I realized how badly I had planned this trip. Having, y’know, pretty much jumped on a plane without much thought for the details that I’d usually pay so much attention to. I admitted that I hadn’t really planned that far ahead and so was quite appreciative when he offered his own apartment to me. He’d be sleeping on the couch, of course.

We got to his apartment and I was too tired to do anything but sleep. Somehow, I managed to change and get into his bed without thinking that, as a guest, I really should insist on taking the couch.

As I watched him wandering round the room, looking as tired as I felt, my sense eluded me and I told him that he might as well share the bed. If I’d have been slightly more awake, I would have laughed at his expression.

“We’re both adults,” I told him sleepily, “there’s plenty of room.” I would have continued, although doubtless the arguments that would have followed would feature the words ‘it’s not as if we’ve never done it before’, which most probably would have made him decide to take the couch once and for all. I was really too tired to argue.

He stopped, hesitating before he climbed in the other side.

“I’m not even going to attempt to seduce you,” I told him, too tired to even consider it. I neglected to mention that if we found ourselves in the same situation some other time, well, who knew what might happen?

“Some other time, perhaps,” he commented. I wasn’t about to torture myself with how truthful this comment was. Instead, I fell asleep.

I woke up as the alarm went off and wondered for a few seconds where on earth I was. I said good morning to Josh before realizing that I was, in fact, in bed with him and that we were rather too closely situated for platonic friends. He practically jumped out of bed and hurried to the bathroom and I lay there for a while, listening to the sound of the shower.

I wondered how on earth I’d got there. Not in the literal sense, I could remember that I’d taken a cab back to Josh’s place.

Mostly, I wondered how we’d managed to get so close after being so far apart. The question of why I'd come back to his apartment and shared his bed was something I pondered for a while as I lay there, until I made a conscious decision to get over it and stop obsessing. That decision was helped along, of course, when Josh came out of the bathroom with only a towel wrapped round him. He stood there holding out another for me to use, and I got somewhat distracted.

Eventually I managed to work through the distraction in order to get myself out of bed, into the bathroom and into the shower.

I emerged about half an hour – okay, so it was probably nearer an hour – later, fully dressed and ready for the unplanned day ahead. I walked into the kitchen to find Josh had left me some coffee, unfortunately now cold, some toast, also cold, and a note inviting me to lunch.

I had a quick breakfast, then sat down on the couch, TV on, wondering what on earth I could do with a morning to myself. I could do what I had always planned to do when I lived in DC and wander round some of the historic monuments and other places of interest. Or I could go shopping.

In the end, shopping won out, since I reasoned it was far too cold to be wandering around outside for any length of time. I bought nothing; the same shops existed in Boston, where I would actually have time to try things on first.

I got to the White House shortly after eleven thirty and the memories of the last time I had been there came flooding back. I stood in the lobby for a while, looking at the history contained within it, wondering how I’d managed not to see half of it in all the years that I’d worked there.

Eventually, I wandered through to Josh’s office. It was strange how little things had changed. People were still running around, papers in hand, although looking slightly worse for wear than usual. The sounds were the same; the TVs with the volume on low adding little to the cacophony of phones ringing, people talking, fingers clicking on keyboards, and the shouts of ‘Hey Donna!’ Even that wasn’t unusual.

The only thing entirely different was that my desk was no longer mine. There was someone else sitting there. Admittedly, I’d have been more surprised if I was sitting there. Although I once did read about how theoretically every one of us had an exact double somewhere in the world. But, anyway…

“Is he in there with anyone?” I asked the woman.

“You’re Donna, right?” she questioned. I wondered what Josh, and everyone else for that matter, had been telling her. Then remembered that Sam had been drunkenly wandering round with me the previous night declaring to anyone who would listen, “This is Donnatella Moss. She used to work with us. But she doesn’t anymore. And I can’t remember why,” which had been mildly embarrassing.

I nodded in the affirmative. She smiled. “He’s expecting you, been looking forward to it all morning.”
I smiled in response and walked into Josh’s office without knocking.

“Donna!” he exclaimed, far too cheerful for someone who should still be hung over at this point in the day.

“Your new assistant gets you coffee, doesn’t she?” I asked suspiciously, sitting down in the guest chair without being invited to do so.

“No! Well, yes, but I haven’t had any today,” he explained.

“Josh?” I questioned, not sure that I was going to believe this story.

“Okay, so it was one mug, but only one!” he admitted.

“It’s a slippery slope, Josh! It starts with one, then all of a sudden it’s two, three, four, and soon she’s so busy getting you coffee that you have to get another assistant to do the actual work!”

He smiled. Dimples and all, and it was just for me. I smiled back.

“So, have you been to the White House before, or would you like a tour?” he asked breaking the silence.

“Funny,” I replied, rolling my eyes. “No, really, you’ve been working on your sense of humor since last time.”

“You’ve just got to know how to deliver the lines, is all I’m saying,” he informed me.

“You've gotta have lines worth delivering, is all I'm saying,” I replied. I heard a noise from next door, but ignored it, not quite hearing what was going on over the sound of my own voice. Josh smiled at me again, almost conspiratorially. I found this all quite disconcerting – I had been expecting sarcasm. Then he changed the conversation entirely.

“So, when are you going back?” he asked. He started to grin, and I wasn’t sure why. There was something going on, of that I was certain.

“Tomorrow, I think,” I replied, going along with whatever it was he was doing, but giving him a questioning look.

“Good, because I want to talk to you about something,” he said loudly, and the grin got wider. I heard some shuffling and slight banging against the door which connected CJ’s room, followed by some shushing.

“Okay,” I replied, finally understanding what he was trying to do. “Do tell me, Josh,” I said, perhaps just a little too dramatically.

“That is… I was… I, uh… I think…” I tried not to laugh, but he was doing such a fine job acting. “Why don’t we go for something to eat now?” he said quickly, grinning and motioning for me to stop laughing.

“Okay.” I grinned widely back at him.

We quietly left his office, him still trying to shush me, and we silently walked into CJ’s office where we found CJ and Sam, ears against the door, trying desperately to hear what was going on. I only hoped they’d enjoyed the show.

Josh coughed. Sam jumped. CJ turned round slowly.

“Don’t let me stop you,” Josh commented. “Just wanted to say that I was going to be out of the office for about an hour, but it seems you already knew.” I tried to keep a straight face and could see that Josh too was finding it hard not to laugh.

“Well, we were, umm…” Sam mumbled. CJ gave him a withering look.

“I thought I had woodworm in the door and wanted Sam’s opinion,” was her admittedly weak excuse.

“Well, good luck with that,” Josh replied, somehow managing not to laugh.

“Thanks!” CJ responded mock-enthusiastically.

We exited the room, faces as straight as we could manage. I thought I was going to be able to keep control of myself, but I caught Josh’s eye and we both burst into laughter.

Over lunch Josh and I made plans for the evening. We decided to go to a bar, since we couldn’t think of anything original to do. We were all too old for clubs, you couldn’t talk at movies and we were at a meal already – and I refused to let Josh eat unhealthy food for two meals in one day.

Other than that, we mostly talked about politics, and what we’d both been up to recently, in between we were both trying not to yawn. I suggested that maybe we should have a sleepover party, which was met with both disdain and a comment that we were no longer twelve-year-old girls. I wondered aloud when Josh had ever been a twelve-year-old girl. No comment followed but a mock evil look was thrown in my direction.

It wasn’t until later that I realized I really should have pushed for the movies or the sleepover. Preferably something where alcohol wasn’t involved.

However, the awkward and unexpected conversations came long before any of us had had the opportunity to drink anything, so I don’t know if the abstaining would have actually helped any. Later, I was reliably informed that I could blame the evening on alcohol. Or Zoey.

She waited until Sam and Josh had left to get drinks before starting on the questioning. “So, what was going on between you and Josh last night?” she asked, much to my surprise. Since, as far as I was aware, nothing had happened. I said as much.

“Come on, I saw you two outside. And then with the dancing. What’s going on?” she asked again, a smile on her face.

“We’re friends! Really, that’s all that’s going on!” I replied, protesting perhaps a little too much. Although what I said was true, much to my disappointment and, in some ways, relief.

“CJ, there was totally something going on, admit it, you saw it,” Zoey continued, trying to get CJ involved. CJ, fortunately, refused to be cajoled into commenting on something that had never happened. Either that or she totally didn’t believe me and was too smart to get involved.

“Hey, don’t ask me, I’m keeping out of this. Call me the Switzerland of this conversation, if you will,” she stated instead.

“Chicken! You agree with me, admit it!”

I was about to protest again, which really would have been overkill and made her all that much more suspicious, when Sam and Josh returned with the drinks. Thankfully, I thought at the time, they were alcoholic. I should have known better.

Later I offered to go for drinks because Zoey was watching Josh and I a little to closely. We happened to be sitting together due to the seating arrangements made by everyone else – possibly Zoey’s suggestion – and I was worried that she might say something in front of him. CJ and Ainsley came with me, and must have misinterpreted my watchful gaze over towards the table to make sure Zoey wasn’t talking to Josh. And perhaps I was looking at Josh more than at Zoey, but that was entirely coincidental. Really.

Zoey and Charlie went to dance but for some reason my gaze remained on Josh and Sam, who were now talking. I wanted to know what they were saying.

“Okay, so what’s the deal between you two?” CJ, my now former friend and alleged neutral party in this whole affair, asked me. Admittedly, I pretty much missed what she’d said due to aforementioned watching of the table.

“Huh?” I asked, turning round to face her.

“Tell us. What’s the deal?” she repeated, and I had no idea at the time what on earth she was talking about. “You. Josh. I was going to stay out of it, but I’ve decided for my own sanity, as well as yours, that you’re going to have to tell me, or do something about it,” she all but threatened.

“There really is nothing going on, CJ!”

“Then there’s something that you want to go on,” she paused, “going on.”

“What?” I asked, refusing to acknowledge the truth, if there was any, in what she’d said. “Did that sentence actually make any sense?”

“Yes!” she protested. Her look told me that she was not going to be taken in by the misdirection.

“Even if I did want something to happen, not that I do, I don’t think there’s much chance of it,” I said, opting for a half-truth. I looked over at Josh again and returned the smile that he gave me.

“Yeah, right. Tell that to him,” CJ commented. She laughed. I turned back towards her, puzzled by her sarcasm. After all, I should know that there was nothing to this hypothetical relationship - I was the one hoping for something but finding no sign of it.

Josh and I left the bar together and headed back to his apartment. The cab ride was fairly quiet and I didn’t know why, but took the opportunity to gaze out at the DC scenery.

“Donna…” Josh started and then stopped.

“What?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Nothing,” he said.

I looked at him, puzzled, but didn’t pursue it. I turned my head to look out at the passing buildings and cars.

We arrived at his apartment block and Josh paid the cab fare as I waited at the bottom of the steps. He walked up to me and, as I started up the stairs, he placed his hand at my back as he’d done so often in the past, guiding me.

It was another in the seemingly endless list of reasons that made me wonder why I’d ever left DC. Of course, I knew the reason; I'd left because all of these little things that we did unconsciously, that we lived for, had ceased to be once we’d slept together. Having deciding that it was a mistake, we’d worked far too hard to push apart, convince ourselves that it didn’t matter. Different reasons, all leading to the same unfortunate conclusion: our current geographical distance.

“Would you like something to drink?” he asked as I sat down on the couch in his apartment, not quite ready for the day to end. The sooner it ended, the sooner tomorrow came and then I’d have to leave. I wasn’t sure I wanted to leave.

“Coffee?” I asked.

“So you won’t get it for me, but I have to get it for you?” he questioned with a smirk.

I nodded and smiled sweetly, deciding that I wouldn’t argue my case.

He returned a couple of minutes later with two mugs of coffee. “Here,” he said, handing me one.

“Thanks,” I replied.

“What time are you leaving tomorrow?” he asked after a few minutes of silence.

“About ten thirty, there’s a plane at eleven thirty.”

More silence.

“Want a lift?”

“You don’t have to be at work?”

“Ahh, I forgot about that. I’ve got a meeting with…” he paused, obviously forgetting a name, “someone at ten.” He grinned again. “Sorry.”

I finished my coffee. “That’s fine, I was going to get a cab anyway. I don’t trust your driving.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my driving!” he protested.

“That’s what all bad drivers say!” I grinned. There seemed to be a lot of this going on. “I’m going to get to bed. Unless you want me to take the couch?” I stood up, glancing down, not savoring the idea of actually sleeping on it.

“No, you take the bed,” he patted the couch. “I’m happy to sleep here,” he said, although his face betrayed his true thoughts on the subject.

“You’ll get a bad back,” I reasoned. “I’ll take the couch. I’m young, I can cope.”

“You’re having the bed,” he replied.

“And I say you take the bed.” I paused. “Listen, why don’t we both take the bed, it’s not as if we’ve not shared before,” I stated reasonably, seeing that neither one of us would win this argument. Internally, I groaned at my suggestion. The night before had been a one time thing – we were both too drunk to care. Previous times hadn’t always worked out well for us. I wasn’t sure whether being reasonably sober was a positive thing or not.

“Okay,” he said, obviously not thinking through the consequences. Or not actually, y’know, wanting me enough for it to be a problem for him. Well, if he didn’t have an issue with the idea, it certainly wasn’t going to bother me. Outwardly, anyway.

I smiled again and left for the bathroom. I brushed my teeth before going to the bedroom and climbing into the bed. Josh knocked on the door a couple of minutes later. “Are you decent?” he asked.

‘Why don’t you come in and find out?’ I wanted to say, but thought that it might give off the wrong impression and blow my nonchalant, just friends ideas to hell. I settled for a “yes”. He entered and seemed to be contemplating something.

“Everything okay?” I asked.

“Close your eyes,” he replied.

“Why?”

“Because I said so!” he smirked. I wasn’t entirely convinced by this reasoning and he could tell. “I’m going to get changed,” he admitted.

I made a big show of shutting my eyes, screwing them up, and then placing my hands in front just to make doubly sure that I wouldn’t see anything.

“No peeking, okay?” I wondered why he didn’t go into the bathroom to change if he was going to make such a thing about it.

He started to change, taking off his shirt. I opened my eyes and watched through a gap in between my fingers like I used to do when I was a kid. I watched him as he watched me – a slow, burning gaze that didn’t leave me as he dressed. I don’t think that it had anything to do with making sure that I wasn’t peeking.

“There, you can look again,” he said as he finished the buttons on his pajama shirt. He hesitantly climbed in the other side of the bed. We lay in silence a short while and I was suddenly too wide-awake to go to sleep, despite the late hour and the previous night’s events. I moved restlessly, trying to get warm.

“You okay?” Josh asked after a few minutes of this.

“I’m cold,” I admitted.

There was a brief moment of silence and I thought that he was just going to ignore me, so I continued moving my feet and legs along each other. Then I felt Josh move in closer to me, right up next to me, his front to my back. He rubbed his hands along my arms, waist and thighs in an attempt to get me warm.

“You’re going to drive me crazy with all that fidgeting,” he said. I hoped he was just making an excuse. I stopped moving my legs and arms and shifted closer to him instead. Josh stilled his hands, but I didn't mind since I was now warm enough to sleep.

We awoke the next morning to the sound of his alarm, our limbs entangled as they had been the morning before. He turned off the alarm, this time not jumping out of bed as fast as possible. We were facing each other, I’d turned over in my sleep, and he was practically hugging me against him.

I wondered briefly if we were still trying to do the whole platonic friends thing. I reminded myself not to read too much into the whole situation

I was lying slightly further down the bed than Josh and so had to tilt my head upward to see his face. His eyes were wide open, looking much too awake for someone who had theoretically just woken up. I tried to convince myself, yet again, that I was overreacting.

I didn't take my eyes off his, though, and he continued to gaze steadily at me. I could feel the tension between us. We hadn't moved from our reasonably intimate position and I was wondering whether I should drop the ‘just friends’ scenario and kiss him. After all, I reasoned, I was leaving the state soon. It wasn't as though I had to worry about future awkwardness if he rejected me

As it was, I had just decided to climb out of bed and get ready for my flight when he pulled me closer to him. I was still wondering what on earth was going on when I suddenly found my lips on his. Although I had no idea who had initiated it, I reciprocating eagerly.

I discarded any pretense of remaining just friends and began undoing the buttons on his shirt. Unfortunately, just as things were starting to get interesting, my conscience took over and decided to put a stop to it all.

“You’ll miss your meeting,” was the excuse that my mouth, unconnected to my brain, decided to blurt out.

He looked at me and tensed up, uncertain as I started to move away. Thoughts of where this had all ended last time bombarded me, and I had to make a conscious effort to push them aside. This was not the same, we were different people then and other circumstances had come between us. I put my hand on his chest where the buttons were undone, trying to say with body language what I couldn’t with words.

I smiled at him, trying to rearrange my thoughts so I could say what I was thinking.

“I want this,” I started.

“You’re sure?” he asked. I nodded slightly too enthusiastically. He laughed, relaxing a little bit.

“But…” I began, “you have a meeting in forty five minutes and I have a plane to catch. Our timing sucks.” That pretty much summarized my thoughts. I kissed him again to reassure him – and myself, too. I had to think of a way to resolve this, to continue what we’d started.

“We’d better get up,” he said, not moving.

“Uh huh,” I murmured. Eventually I threw back the comforter and climbed reluctantly out of bed.

I let him shower first, since he had to leave sooner.

When he was ready, I walked him to the door and we stood there, wondering how to say goodbye.

“I’ll call you,” I told him.

“You’d better,” he said with a grin. “And if you’re not sure about this,” he made a hand gesture between us, “tell me, okay?” He looked worried again, which was hardly a surprise.

“I’m sure,” I told him. “It’s just going to take some organization.”

We stood there, the silence returning, just staring at each other.

He pulled me into a hug, kissing me again. “Thank you for coming,” he whispered into my ear.

“It was my pleasure,” I whispered back, kissing him one last time on the cheek before releasing him. He left, and I stood at the window watching as he went by. I'm sure he didn't know I was looking, because he was grinning widely as he walked.

I was back in Boston early that afternoon. The memories of the morning came back to me periodically throughout the day, causing me to smile.

Things were the same as I returned to work. There was little to smile about there, because of a disagreement between the partners. It had started sometime ago, and seemed to be escalating rapidly.

Maria and I went out for lunch, wanting to get away from the tense atmosphere. We talked about work for a short while, speculating as to what was going on and what was going to happen to our jobs. It looked increasingly likely that James would be leaving the firm soon.

The main course was served and Maria waited until the waiter had returned to ask us if we were enjoying our food before questioning me about my trip.

“What happened?” she asked with a curious smile.

“Well, they won the election, obviously, and then…”

“Not that!” She grinned. “Something happened. Between you and that guy you talk about all the time, Josh.”

“I don’t talk about him all the time! And nothing happened!” I protested, but my face betrayed the truth.

“Tell! Tell!” Maria chanted enthusiastically, causing several people in the restaurant to look over at us. She gave a sheepish look before repeating the line at a lower volume.

“It wasn’t much,” I admitted. She looked at me in disbelief.

“Am I going to have to drag this out of you?” she asked. “We can do the twenty questions thing if you want.” Something occurred to her and she looked at me, eyes wide. “You slept with him, didn’t you! I knew it! I knew something was going to happen!”

“You knew no such thing,” I replied, “You were the one saying that I shouldn’t get my hopes up. Besides, I didn’t actually sleep with him. Well, I did in that there was only sleeping involved.”

She looked disappointed. I didn’t believe that she was; a smile kept threatening to appear. “Well, I suppose it’s better than nothing.”

I thought about not telling her, before deciding that she was practically my best friend and I needed her advice. “There was also the kissing,” I admitted.

She smiled genuinely this time. “Kissing, as in more than one kiss?”

“As in a couple of times. What do I do now?” I asked, hoping for some good advice.

“Well, you talked right?” I nodded hesitantly. “And you didn’t start giving him some feeble, untrue ‘it was an accident, it means nothing’ excuse, right?” I shook my head no. “Call him,” she told me.

“Now?” I questioned, looking at my watch.

“No, not right now! Later, when he’s finished for the day, or when everyone else has finished for the day.”

“And say what?”

“Whatever you want,” she told me.

I decided that I’d take her advice. We spent the rest of the meal talking about other non-work related stuff, then trudged back to the office.

It was quite late when I got home and I almost decided not to bother calling. Then I remembered that it wasn’t as if Josh would be asleep yet anyway, so I might as well disturb him.

He answered his phone after eight rings, just as I was about to hang up.

“Josh Lyman,” he announced.

“Hello Josh Lyman, it’s Donna Moss here. I’m calling about the thing.”

“The thing. Right.” There was a pause. “You mean the thing thing right?”

“You have absolutely no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”

“Of course I do. You said you’d call.”

“I waited a whole two days as well. Are you impressed?”

“Very.”

“Good, I’m glad. I tried my best.”

“You’re not making any sense, you know that, right? Not that it’s much of a change from usual, I just thought I’d point it out in case.”

“I know,” I said cheerfully.

The conversation carried on from there in our own unique language. We talked for almost an hour about nothing in particular; I just wanted to hear his voice, to interact. It was worthwhile. We ended the conversation by having a mock debate over who was going to miss whom more. I let him win.

Over the next couple of weeks, I emailed or called Josh practically every day. I also talked to Sam via email or phone, though not as frequently. I wasn’t sure what was going on between Josh and I, so I decided not to tell Sam any of it, just in case. In case of what, I didn’t know, but Josh didn’t seem to be giving Sam any clues either.

Sam later invited me to Thanksgiving with him and Ainsley, CJ and Josh. I accepted, not yet having any plans and knowing that Ainsley was a better cook than I was.

The week before Thanksgiving, James, my boss, called me into his office. I sat down in the visitor’s chair and waited for what he had to say.

I was correct in my assumption that he was leaving the firm. There had been yet more disagreements between him and a couple of the partners which hadn’t been resolved. The tension had continued to build up.

“A number of firms have contacted me, inviting me to join them. I’m considering accepting a firm in Seattle.” I nodded, wondering why he was telling me. Then it occurred to me that he was setting the expectation that I would soon be out of a job. I speculated about what I would do when the time came.

I was too distracted to hear what he said next and so I looked at him, confused, when he asked me what I thought.

“Sorry? About what?” I asked.

“I find you a very valuable member of the team; I was wondering if you might continue to work with me in Seattle.”

“You’d like me to come with you?” I asked in astonishment, not expecting this, nor such praise. “And the firm, they would be okay with this?”

He nodded.

“Can I… would you… Is it okay if I think about it for a while?” Seattle was so far away.

He nodded again. “I’ll be leaving Boston by the end of the year, but if you could tell me by December first either way, I’d be grateful.”

I nodded and left his office, completely shocked. What was I going to do? I loved my job, but I also loved Boston: all my friends were here, and it was nearer to DC than Seattle. I’d never even been to Seattle.

Then there was Josh. We still hadn’t really talked about our relationship or lack thereof, and if I were to move to Seattle, there’d be little chance of anything happening.

There was a lot to think about, so I decided to talk to Maria about it before I consulted Josh or anyone else.

“I can’t believe it,” Maria said as she met me outside the bar. “James is leaving for Seattle. Although I heard that he was waiting for an offer from DC.”

We entered the bar. It was fairly quiet, allowing us to have a conversation. Maria found us a table and it didn't take me long to get our drinks from the bar.

Maria leaned in close, sipping on her drink. “He offered me a job, said he made the same offer to you. I think I’m going to take it. Do you know what you’re going to do?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I’d love to, but… I just don’t know.”

Maria thought this over. “What if he was offered the job in DC?”

“I’d take it. There’s just not the same distance involved. And I know DC.” I paused. “I’m just not sure whether I’m uncertain about accepting this because of the distance or because of the people. I know everyone here, and in DC for that matter. But is that enough reason to stay? I think I should take this opportunity – more money, more responsibility than if I stayed… I’m just not sure whether I want to go.”

“I suppose it’s different for me. I mean, I’ve got friends here, but all my family is out West and it’s not as though I’ve got to consider what my boyfriend thinks of the idea.” I started to protest, saying that he wasn’t my boyfriend, but she stopped me.

She smiled, “even if he’s not, you have to sort out whether or not you think you have a future with him. And I know there’s something there, even if you will try and deny it.”

I said nothing, but stared down at my drink. “You’re my best friend, I don’t want you to leave without me.”

“I can’t make that decision for you. I’d love for you to come with me, but I don’t think you can.” She looked at me. “We can stay in touch. And who knows, maybe this DC job will come through. Then we can both go. But I need a change, and if I’ve got to go to Seattle to get it, that’s where I’ll go.”

“I’m going to think about it. I’m going to DC for Thanksgiving, and I’m going to have to make a decision then.”

She smiled at me, but said no more. I think she knew even then what I could not see: that going to DC would influence my decision for reasons other than fear of the unknown or leaving my friends behind

I arrived in DC the night before Thanksgiving, having arranged to stay over at Josh’s apartment that night. Josh had told me that he wasn’t going to be able to meet me, so I was surprised when he tapped me on the shoulder while I was waiting in the ridiculously long line for a cab.

“Joshua!” I exclaimed, hugging him enthusiastically.

“Donnatella!” he answered, just as eager as I was.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“I was just passing and thought the airport would be a cool place to hang out. And then as I was about to go in, I saw you standing outside. Complete coincidence,” he replied sarcastically.

“Very funny,” I retorted, passing him my heavy bag much to his amusement. Surprisingly though, he didn’t object.

We entered his apartment and Josh got me a drink before we both flopped down, practically asleep, on the couch. I was kept awake by the knowledge that we needed to talk about what was going on between us before we either forgot or attempted to completely ignore the subject. I needed to know before I went back to Boston so that I could make a decision about my future.

“Josh,” I started, trying to ascertain whether he was actually asleep or just faking.

“Yeah?” he asked sleepily.

“Wake up,” I demanded.

“I’m awake.” I raised my eyebrow in response, although Josh didn't see this because he still had his eyes closed.

“We need to talk,” I said, unable to think of anything more original.

“That’s not good,” Josh replied, opening his eyes and turning to look at me. For someone who was only just this side of conscious, he looked quite delectable. I tried not to let it distract me.

“No, no, it can be good,” I reassured him.

“How?” he asked.

“How, what?”

“Tell me how it can be good.”

“Well…” I began, trying not to look at him. That strategy didn't work. “After we talk, we can do this,” I said, placing a kiss on his cheek. “Or this,” I said, kissing his other cheek.

“Or this?” he asked, kissing me full on the lips. I took this as a positive sign that he might want something out of this quasi-relationship.

“You learn quickly,” I praised. He tried to kiss me again and it took all of my willpower to move away from him.

“Talk,” he said. “But do it quick. I’d like to get back to those after-talk activities.”

I smiled. I tried to be brief but in my nervousness became quite longwinded. “The thing is…” I started rambling on about liking him and wanting to go out on a proper date with him, and asking whether he liked me. I took a breath, and started to say something more as Josh remained quiet throughout this little speech.

Smiling, he put his finger to my lips. “You’re making very little sense again, you know?”

“I know,” I replied, hoping that he might actually answer the question that I was sure I'd asked somewhere in the midst of my rambling.

“You want to know how I feel about you?” he asked. I nodded. “And the kissing wasn’t a good enough indication?” He smiled, and there was a moment’s pause before he spoke again. “The thing is, I think I might like you too, and I just don’t know how to control the urge to do this…” he kissed me softly, “when I’m around you. That answer your question?” I nodded. “And as for the possibility of going on a date, just tell me time and place and I’ll be there.” He smiled. “Now can we resume the after-talk activities?”

I shook my head, knowing there was one last thing that I wanted to tell him. “The other thing is, my boss is leaving Boston for Seattle and wants me to go with him to be part of his team. I have to make a decision by the end of this month, but I think I’m going to say no.” Josh looked relieved, but I could see he tried to hide it. “I can get a new job anywhere, but friends, not so much.”

“So you’ll be staying in Boston?” he asked. I nodded. We both sat there for a while, not knowing what else to say, but knowing that more had to be said. Then I decided that we’d said enough for now.

“Okay, talk’s now over,” I informed him. It wasn’t long before he got the message.

We slept together that night, but only in the literal sense. I still wasn’t entirely sure where we were, and I didn’t want to rush anything. Besides, we were both far too tired.

We went to Sam’s just before midday and found Ainsley cooking and Sam attempting to help but actually hindering the process. I offered to assist, but Ainsley assured us that she was okay and we were all relegated to the lounge to watch football. Not that I was really watching, football didn’t interest me that much, and besides, Josh sat up close to me was distracting.

Instead we talked about a number of other topics, trying to keep quiet so we wouldn’t annoy Sam or CJ, who were both quite interested in the game. Josh told me about what he and his family used to do for Thanksgiving as well as some amusing stories about his own attempts at cooking. And then there was the Thanksgiving in college that he couldn’t remember because he’d drank so much. His parents were only too happy to inform him of his antics the next day and many times since, apparently attempting to embarrass Josh in front of as many people as possible.

I told him about my own Thanksgivings, when the whole family, including endless numbers of distant relations, would get together. They’d tell me how much I’d grown, and didn’t I look like my mother, and other such familiar but hideous phrases. I recalled happily how the Thanksgiving when my sister, then a rebellious teenager refusing to conform to social expectations, had declared that she was never going to have a boyfriend. She’d then spent the whole day trying to pick up the guy who lived next door and ignoring us as we teased her.

Our reminiscing was cut short by Ainsley announcing that dinner was ready. The food was wonderful and we ate until we thought we could eat no more. We sat round the table, talking for a while, then ate again.

It was late when we decided to leave. CJ came with us to the door but left us to stand talking with Ainsley and Sam. Ainsley and Sam exchanged a look, and then Ainsley took me out the door, telling me that I just had to look at some painting or other. It turned out that the guy downstairs had painted an abstract and had hung it up in the hallway. It was okay, but I wondered what ulterior motive she had for having me come and look at it.

I understood as soon as we returned to Sam’s apartment.

“So you’re not in love with her?” I heard Sam ask as I entered.

“What’s going on?” I asked, as Sam turned around and saw me. “Not in love with who, Josh?” I questioned innocently, although I had a pretty good idea.

Silence fell, and Sam and Ainsley looked somewhat apprehensive. Josh started grinning. “You!” he said.

“Oh!” Unsure of whether I should ask him to answer Sam's question, I laughed.

“Anyway, we’d better be going,” Josh said, grabbing my coat and trying to escort me out of Sam’s apartment as quickly as possible.

“Thanks so much for the dinner, it was lovely,” I said, amused by the astonished look on Sam’s face.

“No problem,” Ainsley replied, “It was great to see you again.”

I gave her a quick hug and managed to say thanks again before Josh hustled me out of the apartment.

On arriving back at Josh’s place, I got ready for bed. I’d put my pajamas on and had climbed into the relative warmth under the comforter before I noticed Josh standing in the doorway, watching me.

“I do, you know,” he told me.

I was confused. “Do what?”

“Love you. I thought I’d tell you that. Since, y’know, it’s true.”

I smiled self-consciously and could feel myself tearing up.

“Donna…” Josh started.

I didn’t reply with words, instead got out of bed and wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him into an embrace and kissing him. “Thank you,” I told him, pulling back. “Y’know, I love you too,” I whispered in his ear.

His response to this was another round of kissing, interrupted by the phone. I sighed.

“Josh Lyman,” he answered. After a second's pause, he held out the receiver. “Donna, it’s for you.” I looked at him, confused. “It’s your friend,” he told me.

I took the receiver from Josh. “Hello?” I asked.

END OF PART TEN

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