‹ Prequel: A Sense of Wonder
Sequel: All of Me

There Must Be a Way

A Kiss To Build A Dream On

Making it through the funeral without crying proved to be a greater challenge than Paulina had anticipated, she had hoped that time and distance would have lessened her affection for the deceased Prince of Wales, that the crying she’d done in the days leading up to the funeral would’ve been all she had for him, but the moment his casket came into view, tears stung at her eyes.

There lay the man who had gone out of his way to be welcoming and accepting. He had invited her into his homes, opened his heart to her, and had even gone against his mothers wishes to ensure that she felt included. Prince Charles had been everything that Paulina could’ve ever hoped for in a father-in-law. He might’ve had a questionable past, but towards her, he’d only ever been kind and protective. He had, almost from the start, treated her like a daughter – and for that, for everything he’d done for her, for the manner in which he’d treated her, he deserved to be properly mourned by her. He deserved her tears, her grief, but instead of bawling or at the very least crying freely, she stood there, forcing herself to remain composed so as to not draw attention to herself, because from the moment she took her seat, she saw the carefully positioned camera that had been mounted to record her every reaction.

And although she felt like a fucking bitch, although she felt like an absolute ingrate, undeserving of the affection and compassion that Prince Charles had once shown for her, Paulina refused to let a single tear fall.

Instead, when she felt the tears sting, she raised her right hand and did the sign of the cross, and it was during that split second that her hand shielded her face from view that she fought the tears back and regained her composure.

She couldn’t cry.

Kennedys don’t cry.

It didn’t matter if she was technically still a Balcázar, given a little time that would change. She had made a life with Francis, built a home. Their futures were intertwined, their happiness dependent on one another, and she was determined to do right by him. She’d already failed him once, she couldn’t do it again. So she fought back the tears. She kept her composure despite the fact that her heart broke at the sight of the casket, but even worse was when Harry came into view. He hadn’t shaved for the occasion. He didn’t feel the need to look clean cut, and if he was entirely honest, he felt safer with the beard. He always felt stronger with it, more masculine, and in that moment he needed every bit of strength he could get. So he kept his beard, he made sure it was tidy, because his appearance had to be impeccable. There wasn’t a single wrinkle on his suit, his tie had been expertly done, and his shoes polished to perfection. In truth, he looked ready for a wedding in his suit. He looked handsome, debonair even, but it was his eyes that gave him away. He might not have been bawling, but there was the familiar puffiness that accompanies hours of crying and there was even a little vein off in the corner of his right eye that had burst.

And when Harry came into view, it was as if someone had walked right up to Paulina and punched her in the gut.

For a split second, her bottom lip quivered and in that second, her heart urged her to abandon her place beside the President, and to instead take Harry’s hand and walk with him the rest of the way. Her heart – that damn stubborn bit that would forever be loyal to Harry – implored her to do right by him, to comfort him in his grief.

That was her rightful place.

That was where she belonged.

How could she just stand there while he suffered?

How could should be so heartless – so cruel?

Harry had at one point been her world – the man she wanted to marry, the one she wanted as the father of her children. He had been her future. He had been her everything.

So how could she leave him in his time of need?

How could she do that to him?

Her heart bombarded her with all those questions. It flooded her with shame and guilt. It called to question her honor. She had promised to love him forever. She had told him that they were going to grow old together. Even worse, she had promised to be at his side through it all.

But where was she?

Where was she now that he needed her?

She took slow deliberate breaths so as to focus all her attention away from him. She counted how long it took to breathe in, how long to exhale. She did her best to detach herself from the situation, because even though part of her heart implored her to go to Harry, because even though part of it had unleashed a stinging wave of shame and had weighed her down with guilt, there was still that other part that belonged to Francis and it refused to go down without a fight. It flung the memory of Harry partying out with his friends, of him having those tits in his face. It played dirty, because it didn’t give a fuck about Harry. All it cared about was getting her back to Francis. So as she stood there, inwardly crumbling, that part of her heart reminded her of the manic glint in Harry’s eyes when he had shoved her against the wall and told her that they were having the pregnancy taken care of so as to not fuck up their lives It was by all means a cheap shot, but it worked. It hardened her heart just enough to keep her in place.

Because why should she be there for him if he hadn’t been there for her?

Of course, the other bit reminded her that he had changed his mind, that he had wanted Thea after all, but none of that mattered anymore. Francis had never screwed her over like that. Francis had never made her cry or feel unsafe or unsupported. He was a good man, who loved and respected her, who supported her through it all and who she would gladly take a bullet for. Francis was her future, and she refused to embarrass him, she refused to be visibly compromised, because Kennedy’s don’t cry.

And so despite the inner emotional turmoil, she remained visibly composed. She knew the cameras were on her, she felt them. She could feel the millions of eyes watching for a reaction, but there was none to be seen.

Paulina made it through the entire service without slipping up once, and she fully intended to get through the reception at Buckingham in the same fashion. She would stay by Callum, converse politely with whoever was seated to the other side of her, and at the end of the day, she would board the plane back to Washington and get back to her life, but she should’ve known better than to think things would go so smoothly. As a politician, she should’ve known things rarely go as planned.

Her Majesty had altered the seating arrangements so that Callum would be seated to the left of Paulina, but she had also found herself obliged to change who would be seated to her right. Paulina went from sitting between the Canadian Prime Minister and Crown Princess Victoria of Sweden, to being between Callum and Tom.

Tom had the good enough sense to wait until Paulina had settled in before making his appearance. He waited off to the side, watching as she conversed animatedly with the man to her left, and she was so engrossed in conversation with him that she completely failed to notice the place with Tom Inskip engraved on it.

“So whose place did I take?” asked Callum. “Because I know for a fact that this section’s a bit to distinguished for me.”

“Not even.” Paulina argued. “I mean, I’m just a Senator. That’s the same as an MP.”

“All the other MPs are further down that way.” He motioned with a slight tilt of the head. “And don’t flatter yourself by thinking you’re in my rank.”

“You’re so lame.”

“Part of my charm,” he smiled smugly. “So go on? Who was meant to be here?”

“To be honest, I didn’t ask.”

“Weren’t you curious?”

“Not particularly,” she answered honestly. “It wasn’t going to make a difference, so I just didn’t bother asking.” She pursed her lips when she saw Callum redirect his gaze away from her. “What are you looking at?”

“A tall and incredibly handsome ginger,” spoke with voice behind her.

At the sound of his voice, her eyes flickered with surprise. Even after nearly a decade, she knew who it belonged to. She’d recognize his voice anywhere. It was Tom – her greatest ally in Harry’s circle of friends.

“As humble as ever, I see.” She said with an amused little smile. “Although I should hardly be surprised, that was your defining trait.”

“And so it shall remain.” He grinned. “The years haven’t changed me much. Although the same cannot be said for you.”

“Is that so?”

He nodded. “Your beauty has only been heightened with these passing years.”

“Keep this up and you’re going to get yourself into trouble.”

“Wouldn’t mind a bit of trouble, to be honest – especially if it involves you.” He wiggled his brows suggestively. “We could get into all sorts of trouble.”

“You silly man,” she fought to keep her smile in check. “Have you met MP Callum Key of New Zealand?”

Paulina motioned towards Callum.

“I cannot say I have,” replied Tom.

“Well then do let me make introductions. Tom, this is MP Key of New Zealand.” Paulina turned to Callum. “And MP Key, this is Mr. Tom Inskip.”

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Inskip,” said Tom as he stretched out his hand.

“I should say the pleasure is entirely my own, but it truly is a treat to be in my company.” Tom took his outstretched hand. “Tom Inskip. I’ve no fancy title before my name, but my mate’s title is more than enough for the two of us.”

“Ah. Yes.” Callum suddenly remembered where he had seen Tom’s face before. “You are acquainted with His Royal Highness.”

“Yeah, you could say that.” Tom said nonchalantly.

“Is that where you are to be seated?” asked Callum.

“No. Why would I?” replied Tom. “I’m sitting here, right next to the beautiful Miss Balcázar.”

“Senator Balcázar.” Callum corrected.

“Call her that if you like, but I’d rather not.”

“Forgive me if I come across as rude, but wouldn’t you be happier with a seat closer to him?” She didn’t dare speak his name.

Tom shook his head. “I see that mug of his all the time. Yours, on the other hand, is a rare treat.”

“Tom –” she said warningly.

“Don’t worry, I’ll try not to make him to jealous.” And he pulled out her chair. “Miss Balcázar.”

“You’re incorrigible.” She said as she retook her seat.

“And you love it.” Tom pulled his seat right next to her. “I can see it on your face.”

Paulina fully intended to redirect her attention to Callum and leave it there for the duration of the luncheon. She didn’t trust Tom. There was no reason for his being there. There was no reason at all for his having been seated beside her. If he were to be at the luncheon then he ought to have been at Harry’s side, not hers, because as elitist as it was, Tom wasn’t distinguished enough for the present company.

Tom knew what she was playing at, but Paulina severely underestimated his ability to maintain attention when he so desired it. He allowed her to carry on conversation with Callum for the first ten or so minutes of the luncheon, but then he slowly made his way into the conversation, until ultimately placing all her attention firmly on himself. He chipped away at the defenses she’d build up. That was his true skill. It didn’t matter whose company he was in, he had an innate ability to put people at ease, make them forget their troubles or commitments. That’s why Harry loved him so much.

That was why after the sit down portion of the luncheon had ended, he managed to convince Paulina to take a turn with him. Callum tried to reason with her. He told her that his Prime Minister wished to speak with her, that they ought to go introduce themselves to the French, that perhaps – but it was of no use, his words fell on deaf ears.

“He’s such a bore, your friend.” Tom said as they strolled down the corridor. “Honestly, how many hands does he expect you to shake? Or introductions does he will you to make? You’ve been at this since you landed and quite frankly, I think you deserve a drink.”

“We’ve already had wine, Tom.” Paulina reminded. “You’ve had several glasses.”

“And you didn’t even finish the one.” He pointed out. “Wasn’t to your liking, but I was hardly surprised, what with it being a red.”

“It paired well with the meal.”

“Still,” he argued. “They ought to have known better. No matter though, because I’ve an idea.”

“And what is this brilliant idea?”

“Scotch,” he said with a smile. “And I know where they keep the good one.”

“Tom!”

“Don’t act like you don’t approve. I very much doubt the passing years have taken your fondness for Scotch.”

“Fine then,” she couldn’t help chuckle lightly. “Let’s get at that Scotch.”

Feeling victorious, a massive grin erupted onto Tom’s face. They had spent the last ten minutes slowly wandering through the corridor, which meant they had five before Harry made his way to the rendezvous point.

It wasn’t long thereafter that the pair made their way into the late Prince of Wales study. Tom had thought it morbid to raid the bar of the recently deceased Prince, but Harry had insisted it was the best place, and it was, because it had a secret entryway for him to use.

“Neat?” Tom asked her as he went over to the liquor cabinet. “Or have you become adventurous in your old age?”

“So much for having the years heighten my beauty.”

“Well they have, but we’re still old farts now.” He let out a hearty laugh. “You’re just a beautiful old fart.”

“You sure do know how to make a girl feel good.”

“It’s a gift, really.” He wiggled his brow suggestively. “But neat or would you like a splash of something? They’ve quite a bit to choose from.”

“Just a splash of water with it, thanks.”

Tom poured her drink and after having fixed himself an identical one took a seat beside her.

“I know I’ve done quite a bit of teasing, but it truly is nice to see you again.” Tom told her. “After you left, I reckon I didn’t think I ever would.”

“As horrible as this sounds, I intended never to see any of you again.” She took a small drink. “Sorry.”

“No need to be.” He assured her. “I’m not so easily offended.”

“Still,” she set the drink down. “You were always so sweet to me, Tom. And when you visited me at the hospital, I wasn’t as friendly as I should’ve been.”

“Not your fault though, is it? You thought I was whatshisname and you acted accordingly.”

“I still can’t believe I threw a book at you.”

“Dodged it though, so it wasn’t that bad,” he said with a smirk. “We’re alright though, you and I. And when you leave today, we’ll part as friends. Most likely never see each other again, which is a pity for you because I’ve such a lovely face, but still.”

“That’s what Googles for.”

“Is it?” He arched his brow. “Have you been Google-ing me over the years, then?”

“But of course,” she joked. “I could hardly contain my need to look upon such a beautiful gingery face.”

It was at that moment, that Tom’s phone began ringing.

“Sorry,” he said as he pulled out his phone. “It’s my mum.”

“Go ahead, answer. Might be important.”

“Or she might just be ringing to tell me off for not giving her any grandchildren yet.”

“Your mom does that to?”

“Every bloody week.” And he wasn’t lying. “You’d think she’d have given up by now.”

“So long as there’s breath in her body, she won’t.” Paulina laughed. “Now take your call.”

“You’re not going to take off, are you?”

She shook her head.

He arched his brow, questioningly.

“I won’t, promise.” Paulina assured. “This is the most fun I’ve had all day. So I’ll wait.”

“Brilliant.” He flashed one last smile before accepting the call. “Hello mum? I was just thinking about you. I –” Tom kept the pretense up until he was out in the hallway. It wasn’t until the door was firmly closed and he was a few feet away from it, that he dropped it. “Alright then, mate. This is where I leave you lot. I’ll be outside in case you need me fore anything. But good luck to you. Get her back.”

“Thanks mate,” whispered Harry as he stood behind the secret passage. “Really appreciate this, Tom.”

“Just remember my condition.”

“Will do, mate.”

With that, Harry turned off his phone and placed it back inside his jacket. He lingered behind the door a moment, contemplating whether or not it was a good idea. It had all sounded well enough the night before. Tom had brought up his confidence, made him think anything was possible if he just tried, but now, in the late day, he was having doubts. Could he actually win her back? Would she go running out the door? Would she hit again? Those thoughts ran wild in his mind, but he knew that the opportunity was too good to pass up.

He had to try.

He needed to at least do that.

And so he took in a deep breath, steadied his nerves as best he could, and when he felt able to, he pushed the door open. He was careful to mind how much noise he made. He didn’t want to scare off. The last thing he needed was to chase her down the corridor again, that’d be disastrous for them. So he slowly opened it and when he was in view, he was relieved to see that she was sitting in the chair with her eyes closed.

It had been years since he’d last seen her look so . . . so free.

Every single time he’d seen her after their breakup, she’d always been conflicted. She had threatened to kick his ass and call the authorities when he showed up at her house in Cambridge. She had smacked him during their last encounter in Buckingham. It had always been a mess. There had never been a moment where she just looked relaxed or at peace, but as she sat there in that not particularly comfortable chair, she looked closer to the chubby brunette with wild curls that he’d first fallen in love with.

“I should’ve known it was a trick,” she whispered.

Harry froze.

“Didn’t hear you walk in, you were good about that, but your cologne – I’d recognize it anywhere.” It was then her eyes snapped open. “What are you doing? It’s your father’s funeral, you shouldn’t be trying to do this – whatever this is.”

“You know damn well what this is.” He closed the distance between them. “And don’t you dare try to lecture me as what I ought to be doing.”

Not knowing how to respond, she reached for the scotch and took a long drink before standing.

“We know how this is going to end.”

“You’re right, we do.” He stood right in front of her, blocking her exit. “It’s going to end with you walking hand in hand with me back into that luncheon.”

“Don’t –”

“That’s how this is going to end.” He reached out and touched her face. “It’s how you want it to end.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that it’s not before you believe me?” She placed her hand atop his and lowered it from her face. “I have a boyfriend.”

“And what good is he?”

“Don’t start.”

“Afraid I already have.” Harry wasn’t backing down. “You say you have a boyfriend. That you love him. But where is he? Because if I were him, if I knew my girlfriend was attending the funeral of her ex-boyfriend’s father, I would bloody well make a point of it to be there with her.”

“Francis isn’t jealous like you are.” She lied. “He didn’t feel the need to come babysit because he knows I wouldn’t screw him over. He knows I’m not like that.”

“Except you did though,” he reminded her. “You snogged me yesterday.”

“You kissed me!” she snapped. “You grabbed me and kissed me!”

“You kissed back!”

“Not even.”

“Yes you bloody did!” He had replayed that beautiful moment over and over again in his head. “And don’t act like you didn’t, because you grabbed my hair, you tugged at my trousers. You snogged me like you used to back when we were in that flat of yours at Oxford.”

She pursed her lips together in a tight line.

“And do you know why you did that?” He moved closer, so that hardly any space existed. “Because even after all these years, you still want me – you need me.”

“The only thing I need is to get back home to my boyfriend in Washington.” She glared at him. “And you better fucking believe that as soon as I’m in our house, I’m going to let him bend me over and fuck me until he –”

With his right hand, he grabbed her by the hip and pulled her in close.

“And what?” he said in a low husky voice, daring her to continue.

“Henry –”

“What are you going to let him do to you?” he repeated. “Because whatever it is, I’ve already one it. And I reckon I’ve done it better.” He began massaging her hip. “You remember how I used to make you scream? How we’d have to ball up a shirt and stuff it behind the headboard to keep it from making it so much bloody noise? Or how your knees gave out when I bent you over the kitchen table and fucked you until your arse turned bright pink? Because I remember that vividly. I remember having had to hoist you upon that table so that your knees were on there, and spreading your legs wide open so that I could finish. I can still see your bum up in the air. It was bigger then, perfectly round, and a bit bruised up from where I’d hold onto you. Do you remember that? Remember how I used to make you cry out?”

“Fuck you.”

“That’s the idea, darling.”

“You’re such a fucking asshole.” She tried to push him away, but he didn’t budge. “Who do you think you are?”

“The love of your life!”

She shook her head. “That’s Francis.”

“Is it really?” He scoffed. “You’re telling me that you’re content to spend the rest of your life with a man that can’t keep his cock in his pants?” This time he was ready. When she raised her hand to smack him, he grabbed it and pulled her in close so that she rested right against his chest. “It’s true, you know it’s true.”

“I know what kind of man he is.” She said through gritted teeth. “Does he get his dick wet with other women? Yes. Yes he does. Now I don’t know who he fucks or when he fucks them. I don’t give a damn about that! What matters is that he comes home to me! That he’s chosen to make a life with me and to have a home and someday have children! I don’t care about what he does in his spare time so long as it doesn’t affect me. Because there are worse things men can do. Far worse things that people in our line of work have done. So if he wants to fuck someone, so be it! Let him fuck whoever he wants, because they don’t matter. I matter!”

“But do you truly want to live that way?” whispered Harry. “Do you want to spend the rest of your life comforting yourself by saying that you matter because you’re the one he comes home to? Do you want to spend your life feeling like you’re not enough?”

“I am enough!”

“Then why does he shag other women?”

“Because that’s just how he is!” she snapped. “Kennedys . . . that’s how they are.”

“That’s a bullshit excuse.”

“It’s how they are!”

“So just because his dad was like that and his uncles were like that, he’s given a free pass?”

Paulina remained silent.

“Because that’s a load of rubbish!” and Harry was genuinely upset that she would put up with it. “And you know it is! Because if that were the case, you wouldn’t have been so cross with me when I had those tits in my face and you wouldn’t have been furious when Chelsy was around, because after all, my father cheated. So it would’ve been alright.”

“It’s not the same!”

“How the bloody hell is it not?” he bellowed. “How is it not the same bloody thing for me to have gone around shagging birds if that’s what this wanker gets to do?”

“Because you’re not like that! You’re better than that!”

“Then why are you with him?” He let her go and took her face into his hands. “Why aren’t you with me?”

“Because nobody ever hurt me the way you did,” she whispered, her voice finally cracking. “You hurt worse than the knife that nearly killed me.”

He hadn’t expected that.

“Look, I know that you changed your mind. I know that in the end you wanted a life with Thea and I, and I know it hurt you to lose both of us, I get that. I really do. The thing is though, you broke my heart. You really fucking broke my heart. Because here’s the thing, Francis might fuck other women, and he does, I know he does, but he would never turn his back on me. You did though.” She wasn’t strong enough to hold back the tears. “When I told you I was pregnant, you told me to get an abortion. You said we need to get rid of it. That was the first thing you said!” she sobbed out. “And I remember making excuses for you, I said that you didn’t mean it that you were in shock that you were just scared but that you’d come around and be there for me, but you didn’t, not when it mattered. God, Henry – you tried to throw me in a closet for fucks sake! You slammed me against a wall and pinned me there and I thought you were gonna hurt me. I genuinely thought you were going to hit me or something and I just . . . from you, never – I never in a million years expected that from you, because I love you.” She reached out and touched his face. “Even after all this time, I still love you.”

He closed his eyes, permitting a few tears to slip out.

“I was prepared to take on the world with you, because I wanted a life with you, Henry. I wanted to be the mother of your children and to be your wife, and to grow old with you and have beautiful grandchildren. I didn’t care about being a Senator anymore or what the world would think, I just wanted a cottage in the countryside where we could put down roots, where we could love each other and raise our children in that love, and I know that’s fucking corny as hell! I know it’s stupid and silly and naïve of me, but that’s what I wanted for us! It’s what I wanted more than anything in the world!” she wiped away the tears from his face before lowering her hand. “That’s what I wanted. That’s what I needed, güerito.”

His eyes snapped wide open.

“You were what I needed, more than anything. And I thought – I thought you’d take care of me. You always said you would. You said you loved me more than anything.”

“I did. I do.”

“Not in that moment though, not when it mattered.”

“I came around in the end though. I wanted you to keep her.” There was a desperation in his voice and he dropped his hold on her face. He instead took her hands. “I’ve dreamt of what our lives would’ve been like. Thea would’ve have your dark unruly curls and my eyes, and she would’ve been a handful, always climbing trees and running around giggling! And when she was around five, you would’ve gotten pregnant again and little Margaret would’ve been born. And she’d have fiery red hair, just like me, and she would’ve been so sweet and clever, and beautiful like her mother.” He lifted her hands and kissed them. “I dream of our family at least once or twice a month, I dream of what would’ve been.”

“So do I,” she admitted. “You would’ve been a pilot and I would have stayed home with our girls, and every single day when you’d walk through that door, we would have run to greet you. To see who got to welcome you home first.”

“Darling . . .”

“That’s the life I wanted for us, güerito.” Her voice broke, but despite that, a beautiful smile spread across her lips. “God, we would’ve been so happy. We would’ve been so good together.”

“We still could be.”

She shook her head.

“But you just said!”

“I know what I said! We would’ve been happy together, but things didn’t work out that way. I told you why I’m not with you already.”

“I’ll never hurt you again though. I swear on my mother that I’ll –”

“Don’t.”

“There’s nothing in this world that is more important to me than you.”

“There should be though.”

“There’s isn’t.” He said firmly. “I’ve spent the last eight years chasing after a ghost, wondering what might’ve been and how my life would’ve turned out if only I’d done things differently. I’m done chasing after that ghost. I’m done brooding and wondering. I want you. I need you. That’s it. That’s all there is to it. So you can say that you love Francis all you want. You can say that you’re going to marry him and that you’re going to start a family with him, but I won’t accept it.”

“It’s not for you to accept! It’s my life. It’s what I’m going to do with it!”

“If you’re so set on that then why didn’t you run out as soon as you saw me? Because yesterday you threatened to do so and then you smacked me right across the face and took off, but you’ve not tried today.”

“That –”

“You know you belong here with me.”

She shook her head.

“This is home.” He grabbed her hand and placed it on his heart. “Come home to me, please darling.”

The tenderness with which he spoke coupled with the love in his eyes, was a dangerous combination.

“We can’t go back.”

“Not asking you to go back, I’m asking you to go forward with me.”

“But I can’t.”

“Not right now, perhaps. But you will.” He placed his free hand under her chin and carefully tilted her head upwards. “And you damn well better believe that I’ll wait for you.”

“You shouldn’t though!”

He smiled.

“I’m being serious. You shouldn’t – just don’t fucking wait for me! It’s not fair to you. It’s not right. Find a nice girl and marry her. Have babies and –”

“There’s only one woman I will ever have children with, and that’s you. Not to mention, I’ve waited this long. A little while longer won’t kill me.”

“Güerito –”

“You’re not ready right now. I get that. I do. So I’ll wait. S’alright though. It’s only a matter of time before you’re ready, and when you are, I’ll be here. Because this is where you belong.”

And he slowly lowered his lips to hers. He kept his eyes open the entire time, wanting to see if she’d flinch away, if her hand was going to be flung at his face, but much to his pleasure, she closed her eyes. It wasn’t a passionate kiss, there were no tongues involved at all, and it only lasted a few seconds, but it was enough for Harry.

It was a kiss to build a dream on.

And when she regained her senses and ran out of the room, Harry didn’t mind. He didn’t even think to chase after her. He stood there in his father’s study with a massive smile spread across his face.
♠ ♠ ♠
So I’ve been gone for quite a little while now and photobucket went crazy with the third party hosting. I hate it, because I really loved the layouts and banners that people had so kindly sent to me, so if anyone knows of another site please let me know so I can transfer the images and get these layouts looking good again. I have some great news, there is officially only one chapter left in this installment, and then we move onto the FINAL PART!

Thanks so much for your comments!

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