God, sometimes I just hate the press.

But - in my line of work - they are a necessary evil. I just wish they'd confine their particular brand of evil to daylight hours and arranged press opportunities. And stop fuckin' followin' me around!

It wasn't just that Russell was furious for himself - he was furious for me, too. "God, they're just gonna crucify you, luv," he said to me. With his brows furrowed over concerned aqua-blue eyes, he was so darn pitiful - like a cocker spaniel. That look just gets me every time, although I dare not let him know that - he'd take terrible advantage of me with that knowledge. Yes - he would - I know him. I was, after all, married to the guy. Which brings me to his proposal. And my acceptance. Looked like I was going to be married to him again.

This either makes me the biggest sap this side of the Universe, or a romantic fool who never got over him in the first place. I think it's a bit of both. Who, in their right mind, would hook up again with a man who has such a mouth on him? A man who can play her like a radio - pushing all the buttons he knows how to push? A man who can bowl her over with just one glance? Only a real sap, that's how I look at it.

I'm very happy to be that sappy. Oh, shit - I'm rhyming. That usually means I'm drunk or in love. Since I haven't had anything to drink in the past 36 hours, I'll have to fess up to the in love part.

I had tuned Rusty out. He was nattering on and on about how we'd have to have a press conference and explain that things weren't what they seemed, how we'd been set up, and blah blah blah (to quote one of his favorite expressions). I simply smiled at him - breaking his concentration. While he sat gaping at me with this gigged-fish look on his face - I just leaned forward, kissed him on the cheek, flipped his mouth closed by means of two fingers under his chin and murmured, "I love you."

Mark snorted, shoved his chair back and beat a hasty retreat, shutting the lounge room door behind him.

"Eh - what? Where's he going?" Rusty demanded, blinking as if coming out of a trance.

"To find a judge, I'd imagine." I sat back, smiling complacently, crossing my legs so he got a look up my denim skirt. I slid one foot partway out of my tan leather mule and twirled it on a toe.

"Stop that," he snapped, realizing I was playing him as good or better than he plays me. "Call up a judge - what the fuck for?"

I continued twirling my shoe, still leaning back, still smiling. "To see about a special license, I imagine."

More open-mouthed gaping. I giggled and shook my head at him. "Y'know, Russ, for a well-spoken, erudite bloke, you sure come up empty a lot here lately."

The jaws snapped shut and he looked indignant. "I - what? I do not! Jax - what is this all about? What special license - oh. Oh. Shit, girl - is that a definite yes?"

"I'd say it was - yup. Best keep up with me, Rusty, or I'm liable to run roughshod over you for the next fifty years or so."

Indignant was replaced by balmy as he grinned from ear to ear. "Fifty years? Y'think it'll last that long this time?"

"Unless I kill you for getting into some other sheila's knickers, yeah."

He shook his head at me, "I won't."

"Don't make promises you can't keep. I will do murder over this one."

"Jax - I never cheated on you the first time, remember? It wasn't about that at all - we just had no idea how to be married."

"And now we do? When did we learn everything?"

Earnest, he leaned forward and took my hands in his, "I'm not sure we have learnt everything, baby, but I think we're on the right track this time. I do know I want to be only with you - if you'll have me."

I pretended to consider. For about 15 seconds - long enough for Mark to stick his head in the door and take in Russell's agonized look. "Mate - you can get a special license today if you want to - marry the sheila tomorrow. Shall I tell them we're coming to the courthouse?"

I nodded, joined instantly by Rusty. "Yeah," he answered, grinning and standing up, drawing me up with him. "Yeah - tell them we're coming - and tell the press to go fuck themselves - there's nothing wrong with a married couple having a bit of fun on a night out on the town."

"That's what I thought you'd say," Mark confirmed, and withdrew, leaving the door open for us to follow him.

"So you'll marry me?"

"Why do you keep asking me, Russ - didn't you get it the first two times I said 'yes'?"

He nodded, draping an arm across my shoulders and scooting me towards the door with him. "Yeah, I got it - I just like hearing you say it - and tellin' me off in the bargain."

"Pussywhipped," I pronounced him.

"Just by you, darlin', just by you," he confirmed.

"Well, thank God for that," I commented.

Outside, the sun was shining and a fresh wind was blowing. It was looking to be a pretty fine day after all.