A/N: I own nothing!

Sam Manson was content with her life. Just content. She wasn't jumping out of her skin happy or terribly depressed. Just content. She had a husband, a young daughter, a career as an artist, and a very big house.

Sure, in today's society, big is better, but Sam just liked her house for the fact that it could hold all her stuff. That's what houses were for you know, to hold your stuff. Her stuff constituted as her paintings, her easels that were all over the house in different rooms that had different views of the beach, the sunrise in the morning, the sunset in the evening, the tire swing hanging off the oak tree in their front yard for her daughter, Michelle.

Gerard was a Workaholic. Actually, he was the definition of Workaholic. He worked in the Law Firm, mostly as an Attorney. So he often brought his cases to work with him, muttering about questions he might have to ask a person on the stand, or about the overall condition of his case. It honestly drove her crazy. She often tried to get his mind off of his cases; picnics at the park, going to the beach, or, if she was desperate, sex.

But over the past couple of years, he no longer seemed to desire her. He would ignore her coming to bed in her silk lingerie, soaking wet from her late night showers. He would ignore her suggestive looks or the way she'd touch his chest. He was solely concerned with his work, and frankly, it pissed her off. He was her husband; he was supposed to make love to her whenever she wanted it, dammit!

Because of his coldness, she feared adultery. Was there someone at work? An assistant D.A? Or maybe a girl he'd met at breakfast… she didn't let it rule her, of course, because she would vehemently deny it to her self that he might be unhappy. She was scared. The only people she talked to anymore after her marriage to Gerard were her family. Not even Tucker or Danny. She didn't blame them. They both had vehemently hated Gerard for his possessiveness when they first started dating during college. He would always be with her when she decided to hang out with them at a restaurant, or at a painting gallery that they both knew she loved. He would always have his arm around her, shooting glares at Danny and Tucker venomously. Now they didn't call her or anything.

Now, though, she just wanted him to look at her when she lay down in bed. But no, she couldn't even get that. What did a woman have to do around here to get some attention?!

Did she have to go to bed naked, or did she have to bust out the dominatrix outfit she wore out to the clubs? She didn't really want him seeing that, or Michelle. She had put away her old life, and now she was just…normal. A word and way of being she had hated as a teenager and a college kid.

Michelle had become her pride and joy. The 8 year old was everything that Sam had wanted in a daughter when she had become pregnant shortly before the wedding. Smart, Outgoing, Modest. The girl was exceptionally smart, and very artistic. She had skipped 3rd grade and had gone into the 4th , and of course, she was an avid reader as well. She looked like a young Sam: she had long black hair, lavender eyes, and a very fierce attitude when she believed in something. It was kind of heart warming to watch.

With a terrible sigh, Sam awoke to the sound of Gerard's alarm going off. Just another night of Gerard paying no attention to her. It was extremely frustrating, she thought with a furious sigh again. Why wasn't he turning that infernal alarm off? It was an insistent BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

She flopped onto her side to look at him, and a wave of shock and sorrow overcame her. He wasn't lying next to her. Empty space occupied the place he should have been. She fought back the tears, and reaching over, she turned off his alarm. She had to get Michelle ready to go to school.

Throwing on a pair of blue jeans and a coffee colored tank top, she headed toward Michelle's room down the hall. It was awfully quiet without Gerard getting ready to go to work. Gently knocking on the door, she headed in, picking up toys as she went about the room.

After she was done tidying up, she went to the bed, were Michelle was fast asleep. "Sweetie…you need to wake up. Time to go to school." She gently shook the girl, murmuring that Michelle needed to get ready.

Eventually the 8 year old got up, and sleepily, she threw on a purple plaid skirt, a grey tee shirt, and black knee-highs. Then she put on her Mary Jane's. Michelle was definitely following in her mother's footsteps, and it broke Sam's heart. Her daughter reminded her of the time that she'd met Danny and Tucker.

The boys had been playing in the sandbox in Elementary school the first day. She had been picked on by a couple of the older kids, and dejectedly, she'd come over to play in the Sandbox. Danny and Tucker had seen her crying and had offered to beat the bullies up. She'd laughed and said that she was ok and just wanted to play in the sandbox. After that, they'd been practically inseparable. (For the record, they'd tried to beat up her bullies, but had been beat up themselves. When Sam found out, she'd beat the ever living crap out of the older boys.)

"Mommy? What's wrong Mommy?" Michelle was tugging on her arm, worry in her lively features. Michelle had always been very close to Sam, mostly because her father never came to watch her dance at school, and Sam did. She always went to her mother when she had a booboo or when she wanted to go get ice cream or anything, pretty much.

"Oh, Sweetie, nothing's wrong. I was just thinking about when I met uncle Danny and uncle Tucker." She crouched down to look at Michelle in the eyes as she said this and in the process, she pulled Michelle's hair back in a pony tail. Sam pulled her own hair back in a pony tail too. Then she stood back up and taking her daughters' hand, she went into the kitchen, slid into her flip flops, grabbed some pop tarts, and went into the garage where her black Mercedes waited.

Much to her chagrin, it appeared as though Gerard had taken the Mercedes to work that day, so that left either the BMW or the motorcycle. She opted for the motorcycle. Sam handed Michelle the pop tarts and grabbed her black helmet and Michelle's purple helmet. Her daughter ate her pop tarts as Sam checked the straps of the helmets and started the engine of the bike. After she had removed all traces of her eating habits, she climbed onto the motorcycle after her mother, yanking the helmet on as Sam opened the garage door. Making sure her backpack was secure, she wrapped her arms around her mom and nodded her head, giving the ok to go.

Sam revved the engine twice, and then peeled out of the garage, going at a steady pace to the school. She wanted to go fast, forget about Gerard, forget about Danny and Tucker, forget about her broken marriage, but she went the speed limit to the dot and got her daughter to school on time. Giving Michelle a kiss on the cheek, she bade her goodbye for the day, promising that she'd pick her up at 3:30, and sped off back home.

Upon arrival, she parked next to the BMW and went through the front door to the kitchen. Practically overturning every dish, opening every cabinet, she searched for a sign that Gerard had left or had gone to work. She looked and looked. Eventually she found a little note attached to her tofu container in Gerard's scrawled handwriting:


I am so sorry. I cannot stay with you and Michelle anymore. As you undoubtedly know, I am unhappy with our relationship. I am filing for divorce tonight. I have to tell you: I cheated on you with my Assistant. Her name is Karen. She's pregnant now, Sam.

I hope you are not terribly upset, and I hope you do not go seeking revenge. I care about you and Michelle… so I'm leaving you everything except for my clothes, the Mercedes, and my bank account. I'll still be putting money into your account every now and then to pay bills.

My best hopes;


With a chocked sob, she sat down on the tiles of her kitchen, sobbing as she re read the note. His assistant was pregnant with his child. He was filing for divorce…. Michelle and Sam were alone now. What was she going to do about money? Her paintings did well enough on their own, but she'd have to get a job to bring in extra money to pay off the Motorcycle, pay for Michelle's dance lessons, and pay the mortgage on the house.

The next thing she knew, she had the house phone in her hands, and she was punching in a number with shaking hands. She dimly recognized the number, and was slightly surprised that she remembered the number. But what if someone else answered? Or what if he had gotten a new phone?

"Hello?" A deep baritone voice answered, and she nearly fainted. It was him. She could tell. "Hello? Who is this?"


A/N: Read and review please!