Let My Love Open the Door (Chapter 8)
Show: Young & the Restless
Central Pairings: a whole slew of couples that are too numerous to name, with a couple OCs.
Notes: Here is my chapter eight finally, after an epic battle of writer's block, school and really, real life. And to my co- writer Katie, as always, thank you for your understanding and patience. Hopefully, this is to your liking and will push the story forward.
Disclaimer:Nope.

There's that saying that runs through JT's head when he kisses Mac hello, tells her he loves her and makes love to her when words aren't enough. Be careful what you wish for. It clenches his gut, squeezes his heart. He likes to think it's the anger and rage makes his blood sizzle beneath the surface and his heart race, but he knows that it isn't anger. He knows that, somewhere in that part of his soul JT admits Mac doesn't have. Yet he takes wedding vows and pledges himself to Mackenzie – mind, body and soul.

Yet Colleen stares at him and it cuts through him. Her blue eyes are hard and defiant. Her jaw is set, and the lips he kisses so many times in the dark are pursed in a thin line.

The name falls out of her name so easily, so fluently that it stuns him. It feels like the air is sucked out of the room. But it's just her office.

"Deacon Sharpe?"

"Yes," Colleen replies, like it's the truth. It's her truth. "I want to be with him. He wants to be with me, and contrary to popular belief, he's actually a decent guy."

Deacon Sharpe. It's the same guy who is very instrumental in destroying his marriage to Victoria, when once upon a time he loves her. The pictures of Deacon near Victoria make JT see red spots, and the noises around him sound like white noise. It's all noise – all one big, collective chunk of noise as JT tackles Deacon and punches him until he knuckles are red and raw. The idea of anyone he cares about within a five mile radius of Deacon Sharpe makes JT almost crazed, common sense and rationale thrown out the window. He will always care about Victoria as Reed's mother. He loves Mac. He's in love with Mac, and their boys. JT will always care about Colleen Carlton as someone who is pretty significant to him in the grand scheme of things, though.

That is why he is not, and will never, ever be okay with Colleen being friends or anything more with Deacon Sharpe.

He takes a measured exhale before matching Colleen's gaze. "No," JT says, shaking his head. "You can't do this. You can't date Deacon Sharpe," he spits the name out like it's a slow burning acid on his tongue. "Not him. I thought who were smarter than this. He's using you, you know."

"Oh," Colleen raises a perfectly done eyebrow, crosses her arms and laughs a bitter laugh. The sarcasm is saturated in her words "I'm sorry. I don't think I ever gave you permission to tell me who I could and couldn't see, JT," the smile with bitterness around the edges drops from her face. "I ended it. We ended it. Mac never has to know and time marches on," she replies, trying to busy herself with some papers on the desk so she won't have to look at him anymore. She throws the papers on her desk, frustrated and her eyes are an azure storm. "Don't rescue me."

Maybe, it's the way Colleen looks right now – her dark hair falling over her face as she slams the drawer in her desk shut with an angry clank, or the tension between them so thick because the door is locked. Maybe, JT is married to this woman who has built a family with and loved his son like hers. Mac's a great person, beautiful inside and out. But here is this girl – this woman – he can't help but be protective of.

Colleen sighs, combing a hand through her hair. "Go be happy, JT. Leave me alone."

"I can't," is his matter-of-face reply. "As long as we are in each other's orbits. I can't. You know it. I know it."

"There's Mac, JT," Colleen shoots back with a tone that is equal parts annoyed and resigned. She raises her gaze again to meet his eyes, and there are unshed tears in there. "Could you really do it?"

"Do what?"

"Destroy your marriage to Mac. Break her heart even more, and throw those two little boys into a world of being shuffled between parents?" Colleen laughs at her herself and answers her own question and JT can't connect the words in his head to opening his mouth. She lightly sniffles. "I actually like Mac, okay? And she hasn't done anything to me. The last time," she pauses, and blinks the tears back. There's no time to do her makeup over, "I was going to go after you, despite Victoria, because I wanted you. Her father ruined my life, almost cost me my life. Nearly ripped my family to shreds. I don't like Victoria, no. But she's married to Billy so I have to shut up for his sake. But," she smiles, a little and out of force of habit, places her slender hand on the barely-there stubble of JT's cheek, "you wouldn't let Victoria go. And you won't let Mac go, either. You'll do the right thing by Mac. And your boys – Reed and Dylan."

JT places his hand on tops of her, cradling before Colleen reacts like she's been burned – like she's on the receiving end of a spark long thought to be dead and fizzled out. But there's a jump in his heart and a gentle buzzing underneath his skin that says otherwise.

It's as though she's in his mind, trudging through the fog and the confusion. But then Reed's happy, excited voice tells him about something he learned in school, Dylan responds to him with a gummy smile, while Mac places a loving hand on his shoulder and the fog clears for a little while. But it's never permanent and that's the most frustrating thing.

JT watches Colleen gather her composure, and goes to grab her car keys and purse.

"I have somewhere to be tonight."

JT feels as though he has to make one more plea – one more chance to save her since the day of the drowning replays itself in his head over and over. She's alive, standing her and pissed off with him, but it's something that he carries guilt around for.

She crosses the room, pulls on the door handle and holds the door open. JT gets it. He's being kicked out.

"Don't date Deacon Sharpe, Colleen." He says, outside her office doorway now.

Colleen smiles, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes. "Don't be my white knight. I'm nobody damsel in distress, Jeffrey Todd Hellstrom. Goodbye."

And then the door closes, and JT's feet feel like lead, and his stomach like a rock when he finally gets the strength to walk away.

It's even header to not pause mid step and look back at the dark brown mahogany office door.

***
Abby is here. As in here, in Providence.

Ronan is good at reading at people. He's good out figuring out their motivations – their reasoning. He's especially good at plans that involve dirty cops, and unraveling elaborate plans that almost contain the perfect crime. Ronan has this uncanny ability to find people when they seem to vanish with a trace. Yet, he has to deal with the honest fact that Abby is here. Chances are, Abby is here is to see her sister.

She is this girl who drives him crazy. She flirts with him as he's cuffing her. Detective, I'm glad you know what you're going with those cuffs, she says, with a coy smile tugging at her lips, if he looks past the mask of annoyance she wears. Oh, my God! Ow! Ow! Easy on the cuffs or I sue for police brutality, or if your cheap cuffs turn my wrists green!Every cell in Ronan's body wants to kiss her, and yet he can't. There are too many eyes, watching. He's always been a secretive sort of guy anyway.

Abby Newman, you have been charged with disturbing the peace. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can, and will be used against you in a court of law. Do you understand?

Yes, she replies, with a dramatic roll of her eyes. Let's get this perp walk on the road, shall we?

Ronan finds Abby oddly amusing and it's just the two of them and holds her with a need for her mixed with a seasoned detective's caution. She presses his lips to hers when it's just him and her in the holding room, and moans in his mouth as their tongues do a dance of dominance. He pulls away, tracing a path down her throat before Abby gets on the tips of her toes to reclaim his lips as her own.

When the need for air overcomes their need to be together, Abby pulls with a quiet groan. She doesn't want this be over, and this sneaking around is so damn hot.

She smiles at him which makes Ronan cracks a shadow of a smile of his own, in a place that's a pressure cooker and intense.

A guard comes in and they go back to Detective Malloy and Abby Newman, repeat offender.

Ronan clears his throat, discreetly and directs the guard, "Take Ms. Newman to sign for the paper work for her release. You're free to go, Abby. Put the Naked Heiress away."

"Lying to a detective would be a crime. And I can't deprive my people."

The double entendre is not lost of Ronan, as she goes. When he can't see Abby's blonde head of hair in his line of vision anymore, he lets out a sigh and leaves himself.

He gets back and his cell phone chimes, signaling a new text from Abby, You happen to like me naked, most of all. xo.

And then another shrill ringing of his cell phone snaps Ronan out of his reverie and reminds him that he's in Providence. He's in Providence on following a lead, and Abby is there to see her sister. That's what he reminds himself to get his head straight while his hearts wreaks havoc. He drives through Providence, through sleepy little shops, through little neighborhoods, and through green lights. Providence is a pretty chill place when Genoa City gets too intense – but that's a lame excuse because his whole life is one giant ball of intense moments.

There's just a lot of noise around him, a lot of noise in his head. His thoughts are an incoherent mess. Abby, as loud, bubbly and outgoing as she is, gives Ronan a lot of moments that are not-so-intense and actually quite light hearted. Even his developing feelings for Abby screw with his head and make him frustrated. Frustration turns to internal retreat and causes Ronan Malloy to use the cover of night to disappear. He breaks his mother's heart, pisses off Chance, and leaves Abby behind all at once. Ronan can't deal so if throws himself in the intricacies of his job. But his work is the most simple and the easiest thing for Ronan to handle.

Ronan is in Providence. He's there, following a lead for a case that stretches across international borders.

Chance's name flashes across the screen, Ronan sees as he pauses at a red light.

His head yells at him to answer and that case file and on Chelsea Lawson on his desk at home, flashes in his head. Yet his heart that his usually shielded by walls so high and a little bit of bravado, tell Ronan to make things right with Abby – let the chips fall where they may.

Ronan Malloy may be an asshole as Chance likes to remind him in that brotherly way. He acknowledges he has asshole tendencies. But he will try and be less of an asshole for this woman who gets way past under his skin. For Abby.

Turning into the restaurant parking lot is the first step.

***
"One day, Meredith," Autumn Peterson says, glancing at her nails painted a deep, blood red, "you'll realize that boyfriend of yours is creepy personified and you'll thank me."

Meredith Peterson merely glares at her sister across the room with a look that could peel paint, as a response.

She meets Ricky Williams by complete and utter chance while in California for a Spring Break that's actually school related. There is something totally intriguing about this tall, dark and incredibly handsome stranger. The book she's so engrossed in is forgotten as she tries not to stare too hard at this man with dark hair, a muscular build and dark eyes that Meredith feels herself get sucked in. She's behaving like Autumn and Meredith mentally chides herself. Autumn would milk this, and Hilary would encourage her, hopeless romantic that she is.

He's a journalism student he learns later. She's a biology student with a minor in psychology with dreams of med school in her head. Maybe it is curious part of her and maybe, it's the psychology minor in her, but Meredith Peterson is completely fascinated by this man and with a charming smile, and with a handshake he introduces himself.

"I'm Ricky," he says, and takes a spot next her on the sandy expanse of the beach on her towel. He shakes her hand, and Meredith is feeling stupid for noting the softness of his hand against his. "Ricky Williams."

"Meredith Peterson."

"Forgive me for being straightforward, but I was doing my run and I noticed you, reading. It would have been inconsiderate for me to not stop when I saw you."

Meredith smiles, breaks their handshake. "Ah, this – one of my favorites, The Great Gatsby."

"Oh, well, it just happens that it's one of my favourite books of all time. Top five."

Meredith raises her eyebrows, and chuckles, "I don't believe you."

"Hmm. So, let's rectify that. Meet me at the little restaurant over there," he jerks a thumb behind him, "and we'll discuss classic literature. Eight o'clock tonight."

"Well, now," Meredith notes, a jesting tone in her voice. "I do believe, Ricky, that you're being a little presumptuous here. Surely, the reason you want to meet with me isn't about the words written on several hundred pages."

Ricky sighs, a look of mock-hurt spread all over his features. "Then, forgive me for being presumptuous and let me make it up to you by taking you to dinner tonight, Meredith."

"I suppose I could, Ricky," she fakes being difficult, before being truthful. "Okay, eight o'clock it is."

At that little beach diner, Meredith shows up in a beach dress at eight o'clock. Ricky says later the dress brings out the green irises of her eyes. She tries not to blush because it's not her – she's not wired to blush and flirt and she replies that he's not too shabby himself. They eat, and discuss more than literature long after the sun goes down.

Meredith will not kiss and tell, but the rest is a history filled with multiple trips between California and Michigan, multiple texts, witty intellectual banter that is their own little secret code of speaking, lots of hand written letters, and multiple chats through the magic of Skype. Meredith understands Ricky, enough to not to be scared off by having an absentee father and a mentally shattered mother. Why? Because having a father that disappears into a world of syringes and dope, and a mother long dead in the ground makes it even. Meredith and Ricky fight. They clash. They argue, but they never cheat, never unfaithful. They don't drop the L word around because Meredith knows Ricky well enough to know he loves her, and she him.

It's been a good, easy fifteen months despite the trials and horror stories of maintaining a long distance relationship. Now, here Meredith is in Genoa City, where Ricky is born, where he's moved to now, just attempt some sort of relationship with the father in and out of his life.

It will be great to see her aunt, but Meredith relishes in the thought of seeing Ricky, too much later.

Meredith sighs, pushing her dark hair behind her double pierced ears.

Hilary, the youngest with her red hair, sits crossed-legged on this cot in the back room because it's the cleanest looking thing in this back room in Jimmy's. She's mentally preparing for another Meredith & Autumn blow-up and silently admires her own restraint: she hasn't slit her wrists to put herself out of her misery. Yet.

"Yeah? And what day would that be? When hell freezes over? I'm sorry Ricky isn't the typical brainless idiot you like under you," Meredith rebuts, with a smirk on her dark red lips. "Don't knock me because I'm in a committed relationship."

And that's my cue, Hilary notes with a quiet sigh, running a hand through her long red, curly tresses.

"Yeah, because Ricky's the Jeffrey Dahmer, psychotic kind, you dumb cow!"

"I think that title belongs to you," Meredith sneers. "Says the one who had sex with a guy in Miami during Spring Break and doesn't know his name."

"I know his name!" Autumn protests. She's lucky she doesn't put her Taekwondo training to good use and drop kick Meredith in her smug face, right now.

Meredith crosses her arms, and raises a questioning eyebrow, "What is it? What's the name of your latest sexual conquest, Autumn?"

"I know it subconsciously! I, at least, remember his eyes – you don't forget eyes that blue – and I definitely remember his ass, and hey," Autumn replies, with her pink glossed lips going into her signature flirtatious smile, and tosses her straight, blonde hair over her shoulder. "No guy breaks off a piece of Autumn Renee Peterson and forgets it."

Hilary scrunches her nose and pipes up. "You say that like you're actually proud."

The blond shrugs. "Because, I am."

"You are so - " Meredith starts, and is cut off by an uncharacteristically annoyed and angered Hilary.

Meredith rolls her green eyes behind black rimmed reading glasses, and goes to her spot in the back room. She's not claustrophobic but she's bordering on annoyed here. There's an odd stench in the room. But it's a bar so she can't be surprised.

"Meredith Anne, stop it!" Hilary yells, from her spot on the bed. There's a deep frown set on her features, and her restraint with her two sisters is slipping away, her usually patient, polite demeanor slipping away. Maybe, it's because she's terrified of flying, but for her Auntie Em and her unborn cousin, it's worth it. She almost feels Autumn's proud retort coming, and rounds on her sister, as well. "You too, Autumn Renee. Stuff it right now!"

"You know, I can do the middle name thing too, Hilary Elizabeth."

"Okay, fine, but that's irrelevant right now. We're in this back room for Auntie Em, so making this about alleged psychotic boyfriends and nameless notches in your metaphorical belt!" Hilary heaves a sigh, the soft tone back in her voice is back with a sense of slight exasperation. "So, just…stop."

Meredith agrees, with a nod. "Okay, ceasefire for the sake of Aunt Emily and the baby," she smiles, slightly. "I have to admit – I'm quite excited about the wedding and the baby."

"Yeah, me too," Hilary agrees.

Autumn gets quiet, glances at her heeled boots and glances at her surroundings. She sniffs the air, and immediately wrinkles her nose.

"Oh, God – this is sad and gross."

"What is?" questions Meredith, as her eyebrows knit together.

"The fact that of all the places that Meredith and I come to a temporary ceasefire, it has to be in this back shithole – to put it bluntly – that smells like this."

"Like urine and really strong, corrosive bleach?"

"Exactly, Meredith!" Hilary's face has a thousand watt smile now, dimples visible in her cheeks. "See? It's not all in my head!"

Seeing their Aunt Emily is worth it.

The door to this back closet opens and there's a girl with dark hair and hazel eyes. They know her, introduced as Eden. Abby, the girls find out, isn't feeling too well and actually bails on the whole thing. Well, Eden thinks with an internal chuckle, her oversized ego is finally catching up with her.

Eden chuckles a little and notices the three girls, ready to climb the halls or eat each other.

"About freaking time."

"Autumn!" Hilary snaps, and shows Eden an apologetic smile. "Excuse my sister, Eden."

"Yeah," Meredith sighs, while Autumn glares and pouts. "She was born with the ability to put her foot in her mouth and say inappropriate things. Look, we're really grateful to the Abbotts for arranging this, so we could see our aunt. It's been a while."

"Oh, don't worry. I know a little something about distance between relatives."

"Good!" the blonde, middle Peterson triplet, Autumn smiles, sarcastically. "We understand each other. Can we get out of this back room? Any longer and the stench may be blind me!"

"I understand," Eden concedes with a laugh because never meets anyone without a mental to verbal filter, and leads the girls to surprise their pregnant, and blindfolded aunt.

***
Today is a good day, Jack Abbott thinks with that trademark grin on his face.

He makes Emily his famous banana pancakes for breakfast. He's getting married after him being luckless in love so many damn times. Right now, even after the Patty Williams fiasco, Jack Abbott feels like he's got it right. There is a trust and a love between him and Emily that is bigger and better than their first time around. Communication is great and open. This marriage will stick. Emily is four months pregnant, belly just starting to make its debut. This morning, while getting ready for the surprise he and his sisters arrange for her at Jimmy's, Emily gasps.

For a split second, Jack is concerned and is ready to speed to Memorial until she laughs, placing a hand on her belly. "Jack," she calls, a grin blossoming on her face. She takes his hand, and places it on the side of her abdomen. "Feel."

He waits, and there it is: the feeling of his unborn child pressing against his fiancé stomach against his open palm. It could be a foot and a hand that unknowingly reaches out to touch his. Either way, it leaves Jack stunned and speechless – also, a little teary and nostalgic as he spots John's framed photo with his peripheral vision. He meets Emily's sparkling blue eyes, again.

"That's our baby."

"Yes," Jack realizes, voice slightly cracked and on a whisper. "Yes, it is. Oh, my God, Em."

"I know, Jack. It's wonderful."

He takes his hand off gently, and exchanges it for a kiss. He presses a grateful kiss to her lips, so happy that not even the Moustache can sour him this morning. Emily slightly tilts her head to meet his lips, and her arms go around his neck before they pull away.

"God, I love you."

Emily allows Jack to gently pull the lapels of her coat closer to her body, even though she's more than capable of doing it herself. "I love you, more. I'll call you later," she presses another kiss, this time to his cheek before she goes to the surprise that is his brainchild and is pulled off with his sisters' and Victoria's help. It will be interesting to meet these three nieces Emily speaks with such affection. Emily will be happy to have her family near her – in the spacious, newly constructed Abbott guesthouse. It's not too far away from the main house, yet far off on the estate that they could be comfortable and have privacy.

So yes, it's a great day actually, Jack thinks going into his pocket. He gazes at the sonogram photo he gets last week. He knows the gender of his unborn child. Emily doesn't mind waiting, although Jack isn't one with the strongest of patience. So, the technician tells them, and it's another happy moment added to Jack's life.

He gazes at this sonogram photo before pocketing it, and looking at John's framed photo again.

"Dad, I feel like I've got it right this time," Jack tells John, as he is in the photo. "I'm happy."

The sound of the doorbell gets Jack's attention and he knows who it is exactly. He pulls the door open and gets it himself. Mrs., Martinez is in the kitchen, just cleaning another part of the house. He'll give her an early day off because he's just in that great of a mood.

"Just the two people I needed to see today."

Just like always, Jack lives up to his 'Smilin' Jack' nickname, but for the best of reasons.

"Hi, Uncle Jack!"

Jack kneels down to Delia's level with a smile. He hugs her, as Delia places her little arms around his neck and hugs him back the best way a six-year-old can. "Hey," he greets back. "How's my girl today?"

"Good," Delia replies, happily.

Billy grins at his brother, knowing exactly how Jack feels – although no one else shares is his almost blind happiness at the first wedding and relief when Victoria re-marries him again this past Christmas, after all of his screw-ups and mistake. Even then, this woman loves him so fiercely, and Billy almost feels unworthy but Victoria finds little ways to remind him. She finds little ways to remind him that he's worth it: the way she smiles at him from across a crowded room, the way she intertwines her long legs with his when they make love and long after, the way Victoria banters with him, an undertone of affection in her tone, the way Victoria looks at him with blue bedroom eyes and a coy smile all for his enjoyment when they're alone, the way she rests her shoulder on his shoulder in comforting silence, the way Victoria slips her hand into his and the fingers automatically intertwine, and the way Victoria can sense his bluff before it formulates in his brain during a fight with no undertone of no judgment or condemnation even when Billy is sure it's founded. So, Billy has an idea of Jack's euphoria.

He places his hand affectionately on Delia's shoulder and Delia looks at her father. "Hey, baby, remember what your Mom and I talked to you about before we got here? Uncle Jack has to ask you something."

At this, Jack finds his little niece's inquisitive look and he almost wants to chuckle.

"Okay. Uncle Jack, you can ask me."

"Delia, I'm getting married to that nice doctor, Emily. Your dad told you that, right?"

"Right," she nods, enthusiastically.

"Oh, that's good because I thought you did such a good job being flower girl at your dad and Victoria's wedding for Christmas that Emily and I wanted you to be the flower girl our wedding," Jack asks, taking both of his niece's little hands in his. "You would make the prettiest flower girl in the world. Could you do that for your Uncle Jack?"

"Uh-huh," Delia happily accepts, because it's just another dress to add to her closet, just like Mommy's. Obviously, she's going to be a fashionista when she grows up like Mom, or on TV, like Daddy. And Delia happens to love Uncle Jack, very much. She hugs her Uncle Jack again.

"Alright," Billy says, bending down and scooping up his daughter with one arm, "you know those really awesome chocolate chip cookies we love so much? How about you go into the kitchen and beg Mrs. Martinez for one," he winks, good-naturedly. "Steal one for me and we won't tell your Mom. Pinkie swear?" Delia smiles at him as Billy offers his free pinkie finger. Delia curls her little pinkie around her daddy's and smiles.

"I pinkie swear, Daddy."

Billy presses a kiss to his daughter's check and sets her down. She looks to Uncle Jack for permission before Jack gives her the go-ahead. He knows Mrs. Martinez harbors a great deal of affection for his niece, bestowing her with little Spanish titles of endearment and love. Delia heads straight for the kitchen, and in the distance the brothers hear Delia's happy chatter and Mrs. Martinez respond just as happily ("Oh, the flower girl is a very important job in a wedding, cariña. I'm proud of you and you'll make such a pretty flower girl.").

Jack sighs, watching the little girl go, long after her little head of brown hair long disappears into the kitchen. "Delia's sure is something, Billy."

"Yeah. She's tough as well. Kicking cancer in the ass," Billy replies, grateful every day that his little girl's cheeks are little rosier, she gets more even prettier (but Dee Dee's already impossibly pretty) and that there's that Abbott twinkle still alive in her eyes. But then directs the subject to the wedding. "So, as your best man, is there anything Best Man like things you want me to do?"

"No."

"Then besides, getting married to Emily and having my niece or nephew cooking, there's something else."

"Yes, there is," Jack says, and declares. "As it stands, there are two little Abbotts in the making," he says, and pulls out the sonogram picture of his unborn child. He totally wants to wait until it's all four of them – Ash, Trace, Billy and him all having coffee at Crimson Lights and having a quiet time only the four of them truly understand. He will. But he's not a patient man.

"Yeah, there is. My boy…"

"And now, my girl," Jack finishes with a smile, as Billy's face takes on a look of surprise, and he gazes at the sonogram picture. "Say hello to your niece. We found out just last week."

"Oh, my God, Jack. Okay, no talking," Billy grins now. "Now, I really have to go to town on your bachelor party."

Jack rolls his eyes in jest at his little brother's antics. "Billy…"

"Don't you 'Billy' me, It's your last night of debauchery as a single man. It's my duty, and we're family. But seriously, man," Billy's tone turns serious from the previous jovial tone, and Delia still hangs out with Mrs. Martinez in the kitchen, "Emily's a keeper. Congratulations on the kid, too. I mean, she hasn't run screaming in the other direction and I would know, since Vicki and I have been through circles of hell and back. Now, there's just this new baby coming…"

Jack listens to his brother trail off, knowing the circumstances behind the way Baby Boy Abbott is conceived, Chelsea, and his brother's emotional turmoil. He knows. Because even in a great emotional state like this, the Patty/Emily thing still haunts Jack, even now and again. Then, sometimes, he likes to beat himself up. But Emily looks at Jack with a silent reassurance that lets him know that, there is trust between them now. And she simply says she loves him.

"Hey," Jack places a hand on Billy's broad shoulder. "What happened wasn't your fault. It was a messed up situation all around. But Chelsea signed custody over to you and Victoria. And if anyone will make outstanding parents, it's you two. We're the Abbotts and we're together as a family. That's what matters in the grand scheme of things. She re-married you for the third time, didn't she?"

"Yeah, she did. I'm beyond grateful," Billy agrees, and then meets his brother's gaze. "I couldn't have a bachelor party. Impulsive guy right here," he jokingly points to himself here, heartily claps his brother on the back with his signature grin. "You, on the hand, are having the bachelor to end all bachelor parties."

Jack knows Billy is just Billy and sooner or later, they need to trade Moustache Impersonations soon. It's their favourite pastime. – or one of them.

Yes, Jack continues to think, it's a good day, and as Delia reappears with three chocolate chip cookies ("For you, too, Uncle Jack."), but with his daughter and his nephew both on the way at the same time, Emily as his fiancé and those who that matter around him, it can only get better from here.

A/N: Carina is a Spanish term of endearment for "sweetheart". I had to look that up. I like to think that Delia is just much of a social butterfly like her parents that she would make friends with Mrs. Martinez. And I even developed her too. Someone who is a background character.

I was going to write more, but it would have disrupted the flow of the story. Hopefully, Kate can pick up in Providence with Colleen, Ronan, Deacon and Abby. I decided to stop here, because one, the Abbots are my favorite Y&R family, hands down. I wanted to write on the Abbott family – Billy, Jack and Delia for good measure. That comes from my frustration of no Delia screentime. I guess, at this point, next chapter should explain Kyle's whereabouts as well and even Traci (though it will tie in with Colleen's story), but I leave chapter 9 in Katie's quite capable hands.

Oddly, enough, my muse is yelling at me to write a Chilly oneshot from Chloe's POV, with Delia's cancer scare and all. There was one line that stuck out to me from Chloe so I'm gonna take that line and run with it. Won't be too long. It'll be like 500 words. So, I will because I'm objective like that. And then get back into my Villy bubble.

Oh, and happy new year Team Villy. Happy reading. More Villy awesomeness in 2013, yeah?

Katie, as always, it's always a pleasure bouncing ideas off of you and writing with you. You're a sweetheart. xo.

-Erika