This story may occasionally include explicit depictions of sexual acts between consenting adult males.  If you are underage or it is illegal to view this for any reason, consider yourself warned.  If you find this material offensive, I have to wonder why you came here in the first place.


This story is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to people, living or dead, is entirely a coincidence. As author, I retain all rights to this story, and it cannot be reproduced or published without explicit consent from me.  This work is copyright © Fitz, 2013.


I love to hear any feedback you have, be it positive or negative.  Send me an email with any comments or questions at


My wonderful husband gets a shout out for being so supportive and allowing me to bounce ideas off of him. I would also like to thank my editor, David. All errors that remain are mine, and mine alone.


Welcome to new readers, and welcome back to old ones. This story is a direct continuation to Moving On, but great pains have been taken to make sure it is accessible to new readers, and will work as a standalone story. It takes place four years after the events of Moving On conclude. While I recommend reading Moving On before continuing, since references to events in the first story will be made, it is by no means necessary! Special thanks to Mikie, Kai, Dennis, and Drew for previewing the chapter to make sure it's easy to follow for new readers.


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Chapter 1


I lay in bed, unable to sleep despite the late hour. I glanced at the man sleeping peacefully next to me and felt conflicted. On one hand, I was so incredibly jealous, since I wanted nothing more than to be able to drift into slumber. With a sigh, I gave up on the idea of sleep and threw on a pair of shorts. If I was awake, I might as well work out. I hoped it might help clear my head. I tiptoed quietly out of the room and down to the main floor, careful not to rouse anyone, especially the dog that barked at the drop of a hat, before sneaking into the basement. I would really have some explaining to do if Zach woke up.

I poured all my frustrations and boiling emotions into the workout, something I had been doing a lot the past few months.

"Happy fucking birthday to me. No wonder I can't sleep," I muttered under my breath as I pushed myself.

– – – * * * – – –

Maybe I should back up; since I'm sure I'm not making any sense. Damn, you're off to a great start, Noah. I guess I should try to introduce the characters in my story. I wish I knew what I was doing with this, but I'm so far out of my league. Scott made this look so damn easy. Let's see... well, for starters, there's me, Noah Hudgins. That day was the day I turned thirty years old. I'm six foot one, and was damn proud I had managed to keep in shape after everything that's happened in the past few years. Then again, when I'm stressed, I like to work out, so I've been working out a lot. My hair is dark brown, but has a reddish tint to it when light hits it directly – not a coppery-ginger color, almost more like auburney. Yes, I know that's not a word, but that's what I'm using. I've never been able to describe it very well, but it is what it is. I have hazel eyes, but have been told that when I'm excited, they seem to sparkle with flakes of gold. I've never noticed it, but supposedly that's the case.

Then there's Zach, my eight-year-old son. He's been through hell and back in his short life, and experienced things no one should have to live through – especially a child. He came into this world after I was drugged by a girl I knew at a party during my brief attempt at a normal college life. She was a drug addict and whore, and it took me years of fighting before finally getting custody. The final straw came when she lit their trailer on fire while he was still in it in order to avoid the police, who had come to investigate a report of domestic violence. I'm still damn proud of my boy, who was only four at the time, for being brave enough to call 911 that night. Zach somehow managed to escape with little emotional baggage, and has been – for the most part – a regular happy-go-lucky little kid ever since. Well, I guess until recently that is, but I'm still trying to figure out how to start writing about that.

Unless Zach was at school, it stood to reason that Beso was right beside him. That damn dog. I sometimes wished I could bring myself to hate him, since he was usually nothing but trouble, but he was an adorable little imp. Zach got him as a Christmas gift the first year he was with me, and his name is somehow short for 'Blackie Schwartz', but even the logic of a five-year-old never managed to fully explain how Zach arrived at that name. He's a giant schnauzer, and is four, but he continued to act like a hyper puppy. He's a great guard dog and protector, not that I've ever had a need for it, but he barked nonstop at the drop of the hat.

There's also Will. We met at a gym several years ago, and hit it off right away. We briefly tried dating, but realized there just wasn't a connection, and have instead become extremely close friends. We've been there for each other whenever one of us has needed someone to lean on. And I've leaned on him a lot these past six months after everything that's happened.

Finally, of course, there's Scott. My husband. In a way, I actually met Scott twice. The first time I met him was at the gym. He was struggling on the bench press, and I managed to get to him in time to grab the bar before he lost his grip. I'm still impressed with my reaction time that day. I was staring at him, unable to take my eyes off him. We worked out together for the next few days. He was distant, almost rude, but there was just something about him, and I couldn't stop thinking about him.

About a week after I met him in the gym, Will introduced me to a guy he wronged. He told me the guy needed someone to talk to and lean on, but would never check his ego enough to seek therapy – although ironically enough, Will is a psychologist. Will had failed, and he was hoping I might be able to help the guy. I agreed, and that's when I actually got to know Scott. His husband, Steve, had been shot and killed a little over a year before, and he was still very much in grief. My heart broke for him, even though I couldn't relate to his suffering. I had never allowed myself to open up to anyone enough to consider a serious relationship. Sure, I'd had boyfriends, but nothing that lasted longer than a few months, and the closest thing I had to relate to was lost puppy-love. But I listened. We talked so much the first few days after he told me his past. I dragged him and his friends to karaoke, which was my secondary outlet for emotion when working out wasn't cutting it anymore, thinking it might help.

I already knew before that night I was definitely falling for him. It fucking terrified me. I didn't want to screw up the chance to be friends with him. When he sang that night, I realized he had feelings for me as well. By the end of the night, we were so into each other, I tried to give him a kiss goodnight, but he wouldn't until he took me to the cemetery to 'meet' Steve. I never said anything to Scott, because I could tell how important it was to him, but it was possibly the creepiest thing I've ever done. It got even weirder when Steve spoke to me, but that's a whole other story.

The next several months were a blur. Scott managed to help me get custody of Zach, but I had to move out of my studio apartment. Within two weeks we were living together, and within a month, we had all but committed to each other. I proposed to him after about ten months of dating, and we were married only three months later on August 10, 2013.

– – – * * * – – –

Well that didn't really help me focus at all, but I guess some of the foundation has been laid. Who knows maybe it will help in the long run. I feel like I should delete all this and start over, since it's not really going anywhere, but I'm worried that if I do, I'll lose my motivation to continue. Besides, I've already written over twelve hundred words. I'm going to call it progress even if it's not. Maybe this is the stubbornness Scott always complained about when I began to obsess about something.

I learned in high school (so many years ago) that every story has a beginning, middle, and end, and you should always start at the beginning. The problem is figuring out exactly where the beginning of this story is. Is it back when I met Scott? Is it when I proposed? Our wedding? Or is it all the upheaval in my life around my thirtieth birthday? I just don't know, and all these years later, I'm still trying to figure it out.

Maybe if I start over at our wedding, I'll make some progress.

– *** – ***– *** – *** –

I woke up on the couch in Will's condo with a stiff neck. I would've slept in the spare bed, but my best man had hidden from me the true depth of his falling out with Jason, a detective from Macon he had been dating for about a year. I guess it was to keep me from feeling like I needed to support him while Scott and I moved forward with the wedding at a breakneck pace.

There was no doubt in my mind Jason and Will truly loved each other, which made the impending collapse of their relationship that much harder for both of them. The issue was the distance between them. Both wanted more commitment, but neither was willing to consider relocating. Granted, I gathered all of that from their argument at ten p.m., just before Jason slammed the door to the guest room, where I was intending to sleep, and refused to come out. Will offered me his bed, but I refused. I really questioned why Scott insisted we not see each other before the wedding. Other than a few days Scott visited his brother and sister-in-law when their child was born, we hadn't spent the night apart since shortly after I moved in.

As I was stretching and working all the kinks out of my back, Jason came out of hiding.

"Sorry about last night."

"Everything alright?" I asked him.

"Not really, but I'm a big boy. I can take care of myself. Last night was actually a repeat of the last three or four times we've gotten together. I wasn't missing the wedding for the world; I was going to just stay with Nana along with Maria, but Will and I decided to give our relationship one more chance. I guess it's pretty much over."

"Yeah, I guess so, too," Will's voice came from the doorway. "I'm sorry, Jason."

"Me too. I guess sometimes love isn't enough," Jason responded, wiping a tear from his eye. "I should get going. I'll see y'all at the wedding."

Jason gave me a big hug before sharing an awkward one with Will before he grabbed his bag and left.

"Why didn't you tell me what was going on?"

"Mostly because you would've told Scott, and he would've tried to intervene. You both had so much on your plates, and I didn't want to distract you. I figured I'd try to keep it quiet, at least until you got back from your honeymoon. I guess the cat's out of the bag, but I can deal with my own shit for a while."

"Just promise me you'll eat," I said. The last time he'd screwed up a relationship – when he misread signs, and interpreted them as Scott being ready to take their friendship to another level – he pretty much stopped eating for a couple months. I didn't know Scott at the time, and I basically ended up force feeding Will on multiple occasions. It was shocking to hear Scott's interpretation of events, and it took me a while to trust Will again. Honestly, I blame it on that phase in a relationship where the other person can do no wrong. I had not realized just how much Scott overreacted to pretty much everything. Scott was such a drama-queen. But he was my drama-queen, and I loved him regardless.

"I will. I'll be fine, I promise. It hurts more than I expected, even though I knew this was probably what was going to happen. I just didn't expect it today. I thought with you here, the two of us could act like adults and talk things out instead of just arguing, but I guess it was too far gone."

"C'mon, let's go get breakfast. Maybe we can drown your sorrow and my nerves in syrup."

"Why are you nervous? Getting cold feet?"

"No, I just want this part to be over. Part of me is still waiting for him to realize I've been a bum since I dropped out of school and I was just a rebound for him after Steve."

"You know that's not true. You dropped out of school because of your depression, and you've put life plans on hold to maximize the little time you could get with Zach. Besides, you're two semesters into school, and both times got straight A's."

"Not true, I got a B-plus in that fucking lecture last semester. The professor was an ass and held me to a higher standard than the rest of the students because I was older."

"Ok, one B-plus while juggling a family and planning a wedding; that's still fucking impressive. Scott loves you completely, and your son. Get your head out of your ass and realize he's not going to up and leave you for a better deal. Hell, I was in love with Scott, but I can admit you're still the better catch overall. You got the looks, the brains, the passion, and the gentle nature. Scott can be a real ass when he gets pissed."

I laughed. "Yes, he can."

"It's too bad there just wasn't a spark between us back when we first met. We would've made a helluva power couple!"

"Yes, we would have. Hell, I'm not gonna be hitched for a few more hours if you want to try to steal me away," I joked.

"Nah, you're better as a friend. At least that way, I can't manage to fuck up our relationship," Will responded.

We hit up my favorite brunch spot. As usual, we waited an hour to be seated, but the pancakes were worth every second. Once finished, it was back to Will's to shower and get ready.

"Why didn't y'all just rent tuxes?" Will asked as I fumbled with the bowtie. Apparently he actually knew how to tie one, and stepped up, fixing the giant knot I made.

"You know Scott... he figured if women buy their dresses and have them preserved forever, why can't he?" I said with a laugh. "Actually, I think he's hoping we'll magically move up in society and need them more often. Either that, or we're suddenly going to be going to the opera a lot."

"Well, you look stunning. You're gonna take his breath away when he sees you," he said, finishing up the tie and sizing me up before gently kissing my cheek. "I'm so happy for you. I always knew you deserved more than the life you led before you met Scott."

Will drove me to the church, the entire time we were just goofing off and purposely slaughtering whatever song came on the radio. We could both sing very well, but at that moment, it was more fun to just make fools of ourselves.

Scott and I had joined the church we visited with Scott's family during Christmas time. Neither of us was good about attending regularly, but I tried to make it at least twice a month, and always brought Zach along. Scott usually came along once a month or so. My parents were religious, and we attended every week when I was a kid. Between the promised fire and brimstone that awaited a scared and closeted teen and the sudden death of my parents when I was eighteen, I had not gone back until we went to that Christmas Eve service. It was a very accepting church, and no one batted an eye when we introduced each other as 'fiancι', or Zach as 'our' son. In fact, many of the members had specifically asked if they could come to the wedding, and Scott was more than happy to oblige. We expected about eighty people, of which we maybe knew twenty well. The cynic in me believed they were asking to see the spectacle of two men being married. Having gotten to know many members of the congregation over the years, I think it was important to them to bear witness to our union as recognized by God.

The church is more of a massive cathedral, located in Midtown Atlanta, and a gorgeous example of gothic architecture. When I initially asked Scott to marry me, I expected we would just travel to New York, or something, and get married by a justice of the peace. Scott didn't care too much about the legal marriage, and wanted something with more emotional significance. I believe what he actually said was something along the lines of, "I was already legally married, and a whole lot of good it did when the shit hit the fan, since it wasn't recognized anyway."

I'm not sure how the wedding ballooned into the major event it became. Initially, both of us were thinking something small and low-key. However, the fact is Scott was loaded, though he did his best not to flaunt it. When he and Steve first graduated college, they were living in a small, dingy apartment in Philly while Steve went to law school. Before he earned his money – between Steve's legal career, Scott's web design company, and some very shrewd investing – they decided to have a commitment ceremony, but were on a shoe-string budget, and pulled it off for a few hundred dollars. Once the process for our wedding began, I think Scott saw this as the opportunity to have the wedding of his dreams, and I was more than happy for that to happen. He never pulled a 'bridezilla', and kept a very level head through the entire thing. To be fair, we were both equally involved in just about every decision, so I can't say it was just Scott who went overboard. It was more that he was usually the first to suggest a hundred dollar solution when a ten dollar one would work just as well. Which would be how we came to own a pair of custom tuxedos. I knew mine looked amazing on me, but again, Scott wouldn't let us see each other in them, since it was supposedly bad luck. I tried to point out it was only bad luck to see the bride in her gown, but he wasn't having any of that. Knowing we would be spending the rest of our lives together made it easier to just go with the flow.

Will and I had a small room in the back to sit and relax before the ceremony. Will did the sitting and relaxing while I paced anxiously. He tried to calm my nerves, but I was terrified I'd flub the vows, drop his ring, or do something embarrassing while on the dais, such as piss my pants in front of everyone. There was a knock on the door, and Scott's brother, Ethan entered.

Ethan is my age, and we bonded some, but weren't particularly close. I suspect that had more to do with the fact he and his wife lived in Baltimore, and we had only met three times. Thanks to my school schedule, I hadn't been able to visit when their son, Justin, was born six months prior, so a few days ago was the first time I'd seen him since Christmas. He was generally even more laid back than I was, and at some point adopted something a surfer mentality, although Scott wasn't sure exactly when that had happened.

"Hey, bro, how you doing?" he asked.

"I don't think I'll ever quite get used to that, Eth. You know I'm not your 'bro', right?" I asked my future brother-in-law.

"Yeah, but you will be in... like thirty minutes," he said, checking his watch. "But you didn't answer my question."

"Ok, nervous as hell, though," I admitted.

"Daddy, that's a no-no word," a small voice said from the hallway.

Zach knew all sorts of foul language he learned in the four years he lived with his mother, and Scott and I quickly worked to discourage its use. He caught on quickly, and enjoyed chastising either of us when we slipped up, although it was generally Scott, since he was much more prone to letting a curse slip into his casual dialog. I wasn't immune, either, and we both agreed it was not like we were exposing him to stuff he hadn't already encountered.

"Oh, and I brought someone who missed you. The other one is hopelessly pacing in the other room and driving me up the fu-lipping wall."

"Nice save," I told Ethan with a chuckle.

"Yeah, it's easier when they're too young to correct you," he joked.

"Come here, Zachy," I said. The boy ran into the room, and I scooped him up. He'd finally had a bit of a growth spurt and was closing in on average height for his age. As a result, we ended up having to run out at the last minute to buy a new outfit for him for today. He looked so adorable in his little suit and bowtie, but I was jealous that his was a clip-on.

"Hi, Daddy, I missed you. Did you have a good sleepover?"

"I missed you, too. I had a great time with Uncle Will, but I thought about you a lot. Did you have fun playing with Justin?"

"Yeah, I guess, but he's boring. He can't talk or play much. He just sits there and drools on his toys."

"You used to do that, too."

"No, I didn't. Don't be silly, Daddy," Zach said with a giggle.

"Do you still want a little brother or sister?" After Zach first met baby Justin, who was now nine months old, he began to plead with us to have another child. Scott and I had talked about it several times, but still had not come to a decision. We both were leaning towards having one, but wanted to make sure the time was right, and we would have the flexibility needed to deal with an infant in the house.

"I don't know. How long 'til he can play like me?"

"It would be a few years. Having a little brother is not just about playing, though. You have to set an example for how he's supposed to behave."

"I know; you told me that already."

"Are you excited about the wedding?"

"Unca Ethan took me out there. There are a lot of people," he said quietly. It never ceased to amuse me how he could switch from an outgoing ball of energy to a shy introvert at the drop of the hat. I wasn't certain, but I had a strong suspicion it stemmed from trust issues with all the strange men his mother invited into their trailer for a quick lay while he watched. I was so glad the bitch would be locked up for at least nine more years before she was eligible for parole.

"You'll do great. You just walk down the aisle with the rings, and hand them to the pastor. Then you go sit with Aunt Emma."

"Can't I stay up there with you?" Having him sit with Ethan's wife was a concession we made the night before at the rehearsal, when he announced he didn't want to stand up there the whole time in front of all the people. Apparently now that nerves had set in, he wanted to stay with his dads.

"Sure, that's fine, but you have to stand. I can't hold you the entire time."

"Ok, but can you hold me part of the time?"

"If you can't stand there, you have to sit with your aunt," I said firmly. I wanted to say yes to him so badly, but I had been really working on standing firm with him. Scott was the first to notice the extent he walked all over me, but once it was pointed out, I realized I needed to put a stop to it.

"Fine," he said with a pout. I ruffled his hair before smoothing it back into place again.

"I really gotta get back to keep Scott in line," Ethan said. "He's probably ripping his hair out right now. I'll bring the rings over before it's time to get in position. Just take deep breaths and try to enjoy the day. It'll be over in a blink, and it'll all seem like a blur when you look back."

Ethan left, and with Zach there to distract me, it wasn't long before we had to take our places.

As Pachelbel's Cannon was played on organ, Scott entered from the left, and I entered from the right. Ethan closely trailed Scott, while Will trailed me. Upon first glimpse of my future husband, it was like all the nervousness left my body, and I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that this was exactly what I wanted.

"I love you, Noah Abrams," Scott whispered to me as we neared each other, his eyes already damp with tears, and I could feel mine beginning to form as I returned the sentiment. We didn't have a chance to talk, though, as the pastor walked up the center aisle with Zach close behind carrying our wedding rings on a velvet pillow.

The ceremony began, and like we wanted, it was short and sweet. After a prayer of greeting, Tom O'Neil, Scott's former brother-in-law and a good friend to the two of us, read 1 Corinthians 13:4-13. I really wanted a reading from the scripture, but hated that passage. It was too damn clichι and overused, but I had struggled to find another one. Our pastor was sympathetic, since he had heard that passage at nearly every wedding he officiated, but didn't have any better suggestions, so it was what we went with. Scott helpfully suggested we could still be unique by using the King James translation. Of course "Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not itself, is not puffed up" doesn't sound quite as romantic as "Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud", so that's what Tom read.

Originally, we were going to have our two best men do the readings – Ethan for Scott, and Will for myself – but I could tell Tom felt a little left out. We had planned on a small wedding, but Scott reminding Tom how he'd been Steve's best man wasn't the best approach. Tom had been such a big help throughout our relationship up to that point, so I put my foot down and insisted I wanted Tom and Suze – a larger-than-life friend I had made going to karaoke first with Will, and later with Scott and Tom – to do the readings. Scott didn't fight me, since we both realized the scope of the wedding was quickly escalating out of our control.

Tom walked up to the Dais, and read, "Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends. As for prophecies, they will pass away; as for tongues, they will cease; as for knowledge, it will pass away. For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when the perfect comes, the partial will pass away. When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I gave up childish ways. For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known. So now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love."

After he sat, Suze gracefully maneuvered her ample frame up, and read an Apache wedding blessing. "Now you will feel no rain, for each of you will be shelter to the other. Now you will feel no cold, for each of you will be warmth to the other. Now there is no loneliness for you, for each of you will be companion to the other. Now you are two bodies, but there is only one life before you. Go now to your dwelling place, to enter into the days of your togetherness. And may your days be good and long upon the earth."

Suze had originally stumbled upon the blessing when looking up readings for her own wedding a month prior, but her and Solice had decided to go a different route, to the point they sang their vows to each other at a beautiful farm in the suburbs. When we began planning ours, she was quick to suggest we use it, and both of us felt bad telling her she wouldn't be reading it. When I decided Tom should do a reading, it was essentially a foregone conclusion that Suze would read.

After the two readings, the pastor led us in exchanging the vows. Even though we wrote them together, neither of us could recite them at home, let alone under the gaze of onlookers in the heat of the moment.

Scott went first, and despite his damp eyes, he managed to get through without any issues as he said, "Noah Abrams, today I will marry you, my friend, the one I will live with, dream with, and love forever. I take you to be my husband. From this day forward I will cherish you. I will look with joy down the path of our tomorrows, knowing we will walk it together side by side, hand in hand, and heart to heart," while easily slipping my ring on my finger.

When it was my turn, I didn't fare quite so well. My voice wavered a little from the beginning and broke a few times. I even had to pause to wipe a tear from my eye as I finished. When it came time to slip his ring on, I struggled to get it past the second knuckle, and let out a nervous chuckle.

Finally, we got the part I'd been waiting for months to hear. "By the power vested in me by the Lord Almighty – and not, may I add, by the state of Georgia – I now pronounce you husbands. You may kiss."

Scott squeezed my hands tightly, and leaned into the kiss that sealed our marriage. We kissed slightly longer than was probably appropriate, but managed to keep our tongues in our own mouths. As we broke the kiss, we hugged each other tightly.

"I love you, Noah Hudgins. Now, and forever," Scott whispered in my ear.

*** – *** – *** – ***–***

Well, fuck. That didn't help me figure out where to go in the slightest. Maybe I should just jump back to my thirtieth birthday again. Maybe I was right to start there after all.

I looked out the basement window from the weight bench, and realized the sky was beginning to lighten. Wednesday was beginning, which meant I had to get Zach up for school before long, and I had to slog through another day of work at the office – a task that had become unbearable since September, but as the CEO of Hudgins Design, I had a company to run, and the business world doesn't give two shits about one's personal life. I tiptoed back up to the bedroom.

"Hey, wake up," I said, possibly a little gruffer than possible, but it's not like I'd gotten any sleep.

"Morning. Last night was fantastic," the man said, stretching. "What time is it, anyway?"

"Later than I should have let you sleep. You need to go. I need to wake up Zach and get him ready for school. Be quiet so the dog doesn't go ballistic."

"Can't I stay and finally meet him? You're making me feel like a mistress. I thought we really cleared the air last night."

"Mike, I'm sorry. Last night was a lapse in judgment, and shouldn't have happened. I had a great time, and you were incredible, but we shouldn't have had sex. I am still married after all."

"Yeah, but where the fuck is he? He walked out on you and Zach five months ago. He's not coming back."

"I know," I said sadly, wiping a fresh tear from my eye. For the past six months, it seemed to be something I did on an almost continual basis.

"Sorry, that was uncalled for. I said I wouldn't push, and I guess I did there. Are we good?" he asked, climbing out of bed and getting dressed.

"Yeah, and I'll talk to you later. I just need to get Zach ready for school, and don't want to explain everything to him this early. Why don't you come by for dinner? You can meet Zach, and you and I can talk some more. You do remember we're not in a relationship or anything, right?"

"I know, but it definitely seems to be heading that way, and I'd like that."

"I might, too, but I'm still not sure," I said with a hint of a smile.

"That's why I'm being patient. You're worth it," he told me, before walking over and kissing me gently on the lips. I didn't mean to, but I kissed him back. I didn't regret it, but it just happened.

We quietly made our way to the front door, and I let him out. Closing the door, I leaned against it and let out a big sigh as I thought to myself, 'What the fuck has my life become?'



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Um... well, there it is. I love hearing from readers, and I'm quite certain I'll be hearing from many of you. This twist has been in the back of my mind since shortly after I started writing Moving On, so don't think this is me just thinking of cheap ways to screw up my story. I expect Moving Forward to run approximately 25 chapters. I know I said that about Moving On, which ran 44, but I think that's a very legitimate goal with the plans I have for this story.


Let me know where you're from! I have a map of readers from around the globe. I currently have readers in 30 states, and 9 countries on 3 continents. I'd love to fill the map in some more!!


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