Hey guys! Here's the fourth and final chapter. I'm not quite sure about it. Though I had this plot line in my head the entire time, it came out a bit funkier than than I wanted it to. Even so, I had a blast writing this...jealous Andy, misinterpreted situations. Haven't we all been there? =)

Also, thanks so much for all the fantastic reviews! They truly mean so much to me, to know that you guys like my writing. I hope this lives up to everyone's expectations!

As always, please tell me what you think...I love feedback! Hope you all enjoy! xx

In retrospect, Andy was amazed at how much self-control she had when she walked away from the parking lot, turning her back on the scene she had just witnessed.

She had blindly made her way home, emotionally paralyzed. Her mind had been a blank slate. No thoughts, no pictures, no anything. But now, sitting on her kitchen floor, legs splayed out in an awkward pose, one emotion had made its way through her nonsensical haze.

Hate.

Of course, there were a mixture of other feelings, but the one that was most prominent was hate. She could practically taste it on her tongue, an acidic bitterness that mingled with the salty tears that were running down her face.

She hated Trish, for being beautiful and perfect in every sense, and for waltzing in and stealing Sam's heart in a mere two weeks. She hated Sam, for reasons that were still unclear - for abandoning her, maybe, or something she quite couldn't put her finger on. She even hated the jeweler who had sold him the ring, though it was completely irrational. And most of all, she hated herself. For many reasons, but mostly for never telling Sam...that what? She loved him?

Love was for people who liked to hurt - masochists. She had learned that a long time ago. The effects of a love lost were a first-hand experience in the form of her father. She had spent many hard years carefully building walls of stone around her heart, because she sure as hell didn't want to hurt.

And then those walls had tumbled as easily as Jericho's had. Except it wasn't the sound of trumpets that had brought them down - it was a man. One, single, solitary man. And she hated it.

She looked down at the bottle she had clenched in her hand, her knuckles white as she gripped the brown glass hard. It was unopened.

She wasn't drunk, the three drinks she had had five hours ago at the Penny long dissipated. So why was this foolhardy, incredibly foolish plan starting to shape in her mind?

Maybe pain had the same effect as alcohol, numbing you to reality, pushing you to do things that you wouldn't normally do with your inhibitions intact.

Thirty seconds later, the rush of fresh air filled her nostrils as she walked the well-known route. The pins and needles in her legs faded as she walked quickly, even without alcohol her balance off-kilter from the ragged sobs she was slowly getting under control. By the time she arrived, her tears had dried and her breathing had slowed to normal save for the occasional slight hitch.

She withdrew her hand after knocking, the door opening after a few seconds.

"Andy," Sam said, the surprise evident in his eyes.

"What the hell, Sam?" she asked, her hands clenched at her sides. Her carefully composed speech she had thought on the walk over flew out the window at the sight of his face. Irrationality and anger, with anguish and that all-too familiar hate kicked into overdrive.

"Excuse me?" His mouth fell open at her harsh words, raising his eyebrows in disbelief.

"Don't play dumb. I'm your partner. You don't think I saw what was happening between you two?"

"What are you talking about?" he asked, his eyes narrowing at her seemingly senseless accusation.

"You know what I'm talking about. Trish." She practically spat out the monosyllable word. It was a moment before he answered.

"Are you jealous McNally?" he asked, the slight smile on his face only further antagonizing her.

"No," she said, slightly faltering in her answer.

"Andy," he answered, his smile widening, "you are jealous."

"Were you even going to tell me Sam? Huh? Or would I just have found out when you sent out the wedding invitations? Would I have even been invited?"

"Excuse me?" he said again, confusion clearly written on his face. "What wedding?"

"You and Trish! You make such a happy couple," she said bitterly.

"Me and Trish?" he echoed. "Are you drunk?"

"Just because my dad is an alcoholic doesn't mean I am," she answered, the words coming out before she had a chance to filter them. His eyes widened at how she misinterpreted what he had just said.

"No, Andy, I didn't mean it that way. What is wrong with you?"

"You're engaged Sam!"

"What? You care to enlighten me to an engagement I have no idea about?"

"I saw you! I saw you in the parking lot at the Penny."

His face fell at her words, his eyes filling with horror and a sudden realization. "Oh God, Andy, no..."

"How could you?" she whispered, the tears she had conquered earlier threatening to spill over again.

"Andy," he said again, his voice lowering to match hers. He took a step forward and reached his hand out.

"Is everything alright?" a third voice entered the conversation. Andy looked past Sam and saw the one person she never wanted to see again. Trish.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Andy's eyes widened as she registered the scene before her. They must have been celebrating their engagement. And she had ruined it with her insane jealousy. She turned to leave, her hair whipping her face as a sudden breeze picked up, but a hand on her arm stopped her. She looked down and saw Sam's fingers wrapped around her wrist.

"Andy," he whispered.

"I looked at your cards Sam, and I have to say you are a great bluffer..." Another woman walked out into the hallway. Andy's brow furrowed, taking in the new person. Tall, red headed, with a slight smattering of freckles under her blue eyes. She slightly resembled Julianne Moore, the stray thought in Andy's stream of consciousness out of place.

"Sorry, I didn't know we had company," the woman said with an apologetic look in her eyes. No one answered, all four pairs of eyes darting back and forth from one another. "Sam, are you going to introduce us? First you burn the pasta, and now you don't introduce us. You're a terrible host." The teasing lilt in her voice held no actual admonition. Sam let go of Andy's arm with three rapid blinks that mirrored Andy's.

"Yeah, um, sorry. Pat, this is Andy McNally, my partner. McNally, this is Pat Foster, Trish's - "

"My fiance!" Trish interrupted, a massive smile on a her face as Pat wrapped her arms around the blond woman.

Andy cocked her head to the side, her mind refusing to comprehend the sudden change of circumstances. She looked at the two women standing in each others' arms. A car drove past the house, the halogen glow of the front lights casting a glint off of Pat's hand. Andy looked down and saw the ring that Sam had given to Trish. But then that meant...

"Wait, you're gay?" she blurted out, blushing at her insensitive comment. That's not what she meant at all. "I mean, you're not with Sam?"

Now it was Trish's turn to look confused. "Me and Sam? Oh God no, that's frightening!"

Andy's mind was reeling, she had literally lost her balance, swaying slightly on the spot. Instinctively, Sam reached out and steadied her. She tried to say something, anything, but her mind refused to compute a sentence. The four of them stood in awkward silence, until Trish finally broke the silence.

"Pat, I'm starving. Shall we go cut a slice of cheesecake?" She gave a pointed glance at her fiance, then turned back to Andy.

"It was fantastic seeing you again Andy. We'll make sure to send you an invitation to the wedding. Maybe you and Sam could come together," she said, winking at the still form of her friend.

"And it was so nice meeting you after all I've heard. It's amazing how profusely the compliments flow after you get Sam a bit drunk," Pat said, and the two women walked giggling back into the house and out of sight.

Sam let go of Andy's arm and shoved his hands in his pockets, raising an eyebrow at Andy, giving her an opportunity to talk.

"Sam," she began before her voice jammed in her throat.

"Yes McNally?" he prodded, leaning forward slightly.

"Um..."

"You want to go for a walk?" he asked, gesturing to the open black night before them.

"Yeah, yeah sure," she agreed, her heart racing just a little faster as she felt him place a hand on the small of her back, a familiar motion that nonetheless still brought a nervous headiness to her. They walked in silence, the only sound being the faint rustling of the leaves as the wind blew through them.

"So Trish and Pat..." Andy ventured, her voice slightly cracking towards the end with anxious nervousness, failing at her attempted nonchalance.

"Are engaged," Sam finished. "And that ring you saw me give to Trish? I bought it for her to to propose to Pat. She didn't want Pat to discover her purchase on the off chance that she checked their balance before she popped the question."

"Yeah, that's what I figured."

"No, you thought I asked Trish to marry me." His voice was serious. "I wouldn't do that Andy. I'm not in love with her. I mean, I love her, but in the way a brother loves his sister. That's all our relationship ever was - family." He took a deep breath as if to continue, but she cut him off.

"I just thought that with you two going prom together, maybe you had reconnected and..." she trailed off, unsure of how to finish.

"Yeah, we went to prom together, but only because Trish didn't have the guts to tell her parents she was gay."

"Oh."

Another silence followed, this one slightly less awkward.

"I'm so sorry Sam. I'm such an idiot," she said, turning her head to look up at him. He stared straight ahead, and she saw a muscle jump in his jaw before he looked down at her.

"Yeah, you were," he finally answered. "Tell me, McNally, were you jealous?" His eyes held a dangerous glint to them, and she knew better than to lie.

"Yes," she whispered, looking down at the ground, watching her feet move over the cracked pavement. She felt, rather than saw, Sam stop, so she did as well.

"Why?" His voice was low.

"You know why," she muttered to the ground.

"No, you're going to have to tell me," he said, taking her chin between his fingers and gently lifting it up until her eyes met his.

"Because I lo...I care about you," she stammered out, unable to bring herself to say the word she actually wanted to say. She tried to look away from his eyes, but the dark pools of emotions held her captive. His fingers trailed up her jawline.

"Me too," he murmured, smiling down at her. "The first word, McNally, not the second one you used," he said, a devilish glint in his eyes.

"What?"

He stepped so close to her that she could feel his heart beating against hers. He lowered his mouth to her ear.

"Love, Andy, love."