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Thread: Imitation of Life (Sheridan and Luis)

  1. #17
    Join Date
    Oct 2000

    Post Re: Imitation of Life (Sheridan and Luis)

    Hi guys!

    Sorry it's taken me so long to get this up; hope it's worth the wait.

    Just a note...the word count on the previous 34 chapters was around 15-16,000; the epilogue alone flirts with 5,000 words.

    How do you like them apples?


    Posting this here and at the old boards.



    “It won’t be easy.”


    Her father, it seemed, had mellowed with age. No longer did Sheridan have to worry about his murderous attempts on her life; he was content, instead, to seek Luis’s professional ruin and the obliteration of the strong bonds among the Lopez-Fitzgerald family.

    Christmas Eve found Sheridan staring sightlessly into a gray, miserable, darkening sky, her head and her heart waging a war that couldn’t be won. She blinked back the sting of tears when she felt two large hands sweep briefly over her shoulders before being replaced by a weight almost as heavy as the one on her conscience. Her fingers played with the jacket’s zipper as she worked up the courage to speak, to lay voice to her tormented thoughts. But her words caught in her throat when Luis’s hands covered hers, and he eased the zipper up, almost to her chin.

    “There,” he said in a low whisper. “Mama thought you might be cold.” He frowned at her brimming tears, squeezing her hands in concern. Her name escaped his lips on a sigh. “Sheridan.”

    “They should be here, Luis.”

    She didn’t have to say their names; Luis understood anyway. “They should,” he agreed, tightening his hands around hers when she moved to pull away. “Theresa and the kids,” he began, tucking a golden curl behind her ear, “they should be here. But you’re not at fault, Sheridan. Your father is.”

    “If it weren’t for me,” Sheridan’s protests died beneath Luis’s fingertips.

    “If it weren’t for you, our son wouldn’t be inside right now practically bursting with happiness,” Luis reminded her, a small smile tugging at his mouth as he remembered the way he’d left his son mere minutes ago: lugging around the wriggling ball of fur that had been a gift (an un-discussed surprise actually) from the woman in front of him.

    Not even the knowledge that the puppy had apparently already wormed its way into Luis’s hard-fought-for affections and softened his no-pets stance was enough to make Sheridan smile. She shrugged away from him, unable to meet his eyes as she said her next piece. “No, Luis. Don’t try to make excuses. Don’t try to make things right when they obviously aren’t. Theresa and the children are practically prisoners in my father’s house. You’ve been suspended from the police force because of evidence he fabricated. And,” she lost her tenuous grasp on her emotions, her stoic mask crumpling before him, “I ignored your wishes and bought our son a dog when you said he couldn’t have one.” The edge of hysteria she heard in her own voice embarrassed her, and she whirled around, covering her face with her hands as she cried. The tears came faster when she felt his arms wrap around her waist from behind and felt his breath stir the hair at her temple.

    “First of all, you are not responsible for your father’s actions,” Luis tightened his arms around her, lips tasting the salt of her tears as they caressed her chilled cheek. “And secondly, don’t worry about the police force,” he murmured into her ear. “Sam and the guys are working on it. Alistair and his trumped up charges don’t stand a chance; he’s not going to get away with it this time.”

    “But Theresa and Little Ethan, and Jane,” Sheridan wouldn’t be convinced.

    “Will find a way,” Luis promised, pressing his lips more firmly against her damp cheek before slowly turning her in his arms and looking into her wet eyes. “But the dog,” a slow, teasing smile crept over his handsome features, “I’m afraid the dog’s the real deal-breaker. The dog absolutely has to go. With you,” he elaborated when his attempt at banter fell a little flat in the face of her worries. “So Marty and I have a reason to visit every day.” He released a relieved little breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding when that comment finally earned him the sought-after smile.

    “You don’t need a reason, Luis.” Sheridan’s hand as she lifted it to Luis’s cheek was swallowed by the sleeve of Luis’s jacket.

    Her little mewl of frustration made Luis grin. He covered her hand with his own and used his other arm to wrap around her waist and pull her flush against him, his intent clear: to kiss her (properly) finally. It was his turn to growl with frustration when he felt her small hands pushing against his chest. What is it now, he wondered, using one of his thumbs to soothe the furrowed line between her brows while he watched her bite her lip in hesitation. “Sheridan?” he prompted gently.

    “It’s always going to be this way. Isn’t it? Always fighting. Is it really worth it, Luis?” Sheridan looked at him doubtfully. “Am I really worth it?”

    “Sheridan,” Luis framed her face between his work-callused hands, shaking his head at her as he brought their foreheads together. How could she ask, think, such a thing?

    “Luis,” she breathed his name back at him, her lips brushing faintly against his mouth as they moved to form the word. Her fingers clenched in the soft material of his sweater at his answering groan. “It’s a fair question, Luis. I…”

    “Mama! Papa!” Marty burst through the door in that moment, his newfound friend scampering behind him, with the red ribbon that had previously adorned his neck hanging limply from his mouth. “Aunt Paloma’s going caroling, and she said we could come and Grandpa and Abuela too. We’re going to go sing to Aunt Theresa!” Marty bounced on the balls of his feet, breathless and beaming with poorly contained excitement.

    Paloma materialized behind Marty, wrapping a long green scarf around her neck and pulling on her gloves. “If Theresa can’t come to us, we’ll go to her.”

    Sheridan smiled at Martin and Pilar when they stepped over the threshold hand in hand, cheeks flushing from the cold and anticipation. “Each year Father Lonagin and members of the church stop by the Mansion to sing Christmas carols,” she told Luis, warming inside at the excitement brewing in his own expressive eyes. “Father hates it, but he allows it because Ivy convinced him it was good press for the family. He won’t do anything with the cameras rolling, Luis.” Martin gave her shoulder a fatherly pat as he stepped around her to pick up Marty, squirming puppy and all.

    Pilar fussed with the navy scarf around her grandson’s neck, dodging wet puppy kisses while attempting to pull Marty’s matching hat down over his ears. “Mi hija,” she scolded Sheridan with affection as her attempts to elude the eager pink tongue eventually proved fruitless, and she lifted a gloved hand to her cheek.

    “What she really means, Sheridan,” Paloma laughed, “is you really shouldn’t have. Are you and Luis coming?” Her parents, Marty in tow, clattered down the front steps behind her as she looked from Sheridan to her brother and back. She raised a brow when Sheridan only looked at Luis questioningly.

    “Go ahead. We’ll be right behind you,” Luis answered, giving her a gentle push forward. “You,” he pointed at Sheridan as he backed through the open door, “stay right where you are.”

    Marty’s exuberant chatter soon faded into the quickly falling twilight, and Sheridan, left to wonder what was taking Luis so long, stepped over the threshold, right into Luis’s path. Luis’s hand on her hip, she knew, was meant to steady her, but it only served to throw her even more off-balance than she already found herself this evening. “Luis, what…I don’t understand. What is this?” she questioned when he held out his free hand and a pretty, delicate gold chain dangled over then curled into her palm. Her fingers trembled slightly as they worked at the tiny clasp holding the heart locket together, and she felt her heart jump into her throat when, finally successful, she opened it to find her own likeness, along with that of Marty, smiling up at her. “Luis,” she lifted her gaze to Luis’s expectant face. “Oh, Luis. This is…” Any further words proved impossible due to the lump firmly lodged in her throat.

    Luis’s fingers were deft and sure as he fastened the clasp around her neck, letting the locket fall to rest just below the hollow of her throat. “I think Marty’s right. This present can’t wait until morning.” The tiniest of smiles flirted with the corners of his mouth yet his dark eyes remained serious. Lifting the locket once more in the palm of his hand, his voice was but a whisper. “Never doubt this.”

    Sheridan wrapped her hand around his with an answering smile and stepped out into the night.

    They had some carols to sing.


    Luis closed the front door behind him and shrugged off his jacket. Reaching down to pull his snow-covered boots off, he winced at the tired crack and pop of the vertebrae in his back and let loose a weary sigh. Scrubbing a rough hand over his face, he felt guilt rear its ugly head again when he noted the time.

    Its volume was muted, but the celebration on the television was in full swing, the colorful images of happy partygoers ringing in the New Year cutting through the darkness of the living room.

    Two small feet wearing pink and yellow striped socks stuck out from beneath the coffee table. Upon further investigation, Luis found Maria’s dark tumble of curls resting beside a large blue bowl filled with popcorn, her arms folded beneath her. His little niece whimpered only slightly in her sleep when Luis gave her legs a soft tug and pulled her closer. She settled drowsily against his chest while he brushed popcorn kernels from her hair with a small smile.

    “I missed it,” Maria pouted, small fists rubbing sleepily at her eyes.

    Luis wanted to chuckle at the disgruntled glare she gave him but didn’t. Instead he was quick to remind her, “There’s always next year.”

    “But it won’t be the same,” Maria stuck her bottom lip out even further. She swayed on unsteady feet, leaning heavily against Luis as he moved across the living room to where Marty lay sprawled across the armchair, growing arms and legs at odd angles, practically hanging upside down.

    Luis scooped Marty up, tucking him under one arm and using the other to guide Maria down the hall.

    “Papa?” Marty clung to Luis’s neck with both arms and his legs were hooked around his waist. “Was the party fun?”

    Was it fun watching Harmony’s upper tier eat, drink, and be a little bit too merry? Was it fun playing referee for the rich? Being reminded again just how different Sheridan’s world and the circles his sister moved in these days were from his? Security detail for the Seascape wasn’t the job Luis was most proud of or his idea of fun, but he didn’t tell his son that. Tightening his arm around Marty, he focused on the positive. “The fireworks were pretty great.”

    “Uncle Luis,” Maria yawned as Luis tucked the covers around her shoulders and Marty crawled into the small twin bed beside her. “Did you see my mom?”

    “I saw her,” Luis nodded, giving Marty the same treatment he’d given Maria just seconds earlier. “She looked like she was having fun.” He pre-empted her next question with a finger to her tiredly babbling mouth. “Sleep. I’m sure she’ll tell you all about it when she picks you up in the morning.”

    “You’re no fun.” With a pout, Maria flopped over in the bed, dragging most of the blankets with her. After a brief tug of war with Marty that resulted in giggles all around, she relinquished enough control for Luis to re-tuck the blankets snugly around the both of them.


    Marty’s voice was sleep-soft, and Luis paused in the doorway, all ears. “Yeah?”

    “Are you going to tuck Mama in too?”

    “Marty,” Luis spoke warningly, but the boy wouldn’t be silenced, continuing to babble even as Luis started to pull the bedroom door closed.

    “Will you make us blueberry pancakes in the morning?”

    “Go to sleep, Marty.” Chuckling to himself as he closed the door on their giggling shenanigans, he delivered another warning, unable to keep the hint of humor out of his voice. “Sleeping means no more talking. Or laughing,” he added, dousing the rest of the lights and following the television’s glow to the living room. His son’s innocent question echoed in his mind when his eyes strayed to the sofa and the outline of Sheridan’s slender figure.

    Doleful dark eyes tracked his movements across the room suspiciously, and a high pitched puppy whine escaped in protest when Luis crouched in front of the sofa and gathered his sleeping companion close.

    “Luis?” His name was a groggy question from Sheridan’s lips, and her blue eyes blinked to adjust to the darkness of his room as he settled her in his bed, one knee braced against the mattress. “Time’s it?” She pushed herself up on one elbow while Luis fumbled to turn on the bedside lamp. Squinting against the sudden brightness, she instantly became more alert with the realization they were alone. “Wait a minute. Where are the kids?”

    “Relax.” Luis guided her down to the pillow below, belatedly recognizing the gray tee-shirt hanging loosely from one pale shoulder as his own. Distractedly, he answered in one short word, “Asleep.” His eyes traveled of their own volition down the rest of her body, and what he saw made him smirk in delight. “You’re wearing my favorite pair of sweats,” he accused, stretching out his long body beside her.

    Sheridan shrugged indifferently, unconsciously exposing more pale skin to Luis’s view. “Not exactly my size, but they’re comfortable.” Her eyes twinkled when Luis’s hand settled on her hip, his thumb hooking in the doubly folded-down waistband of the sweats and stroking the sensitive skin there. Lifting a hand to Luis’s tired face, she stroked her own thumb along his cheekbone. “Dance with any pretty girls at the party?”

    Luis opened his mouth to remind her again that the party had been a job, nothing more, until he realized that she was only teasing, not serious. Still, the undercurrent of insecurity lingering in her pretty eyes made him pull her to him until barely an inch separated them, and the never-far desire to kiss her returned full-force. “There’s only one girl I wanted to kiss at midnight,” he said quietly, watching her blue eyes widen then turn liquid with the admission. Luis’s hand spanned the small of her back when she scooted closer, her nails tickling pleasantly at his scalp. Throwing a glance over his shoulder, Luis noted the time on his digital alarm clock, his fingers twitching restlessly against her warm skin, his smile rueful. “Looks like we missed the countdown.”

    “You’re forgetting, Luis,” Sheridan’s hand slid to his nape, and her nose nudged lightly against his as she breached the remaining distance between them and felt his hand sweep higher to rest between her shoulder blades. “It’s not midnight yet in Chicago.”

    “Or Denver,” Luis’s smile grew, and his wandering hand lingered on the curve of her hip. He pressed a tiny kiss to the notch above her upper lip and pulled back to look into her eyes.

    “Don’t forget San Francisco,” Sheridan reminded him with a husky whisper, chasing his lips with her own. She teased him with brief touches, light as the flutter of a butterfly’s wings, of her lips to the identical vee begging her attention above Luis’s mouth. She smiled when Luis’s hand molded itself to the small of her back again, propelling her forward even deeper into his embrace. Her thumb traced his lips as she told him, blue eyes sparkling, “I think I need a kiss for every time zone.” Peals of delighted laughter escaped when he playfully nipped at the fleshy pad and muttered something about negotiations and arrangements with the words ‘you’re killing me’ sprinkled in there somewhere, and without her knowing how it happened, she found herself on her back, one hand in Luis’s hair and the other gripping the corded muscle of his shoulder while his handsome face loomed over her, his own blunt fingers tickling at her ribs. She was still shaking with laughter when his mouth covered hers.

    Her lips were even softer than Luis remembered, her mouth warm as his tongue stole its way past her smile to brush tentatively against her own. Retreating before she even had a chance to respond, Luis braced his weight on his forearms on either side of her face, watching her slowly blink her blue eyes open. “Sheridan.” He whispered her name uncertainly, apologetically.

    The hand on his shoulder dipped beneath the neckline of his shirt, landing between his shoulder blades, and Sheridan pulled him gently to her as she raised up on one elbow to meet him halfway. The kiss she bestowed was soft but persuasive, and she moaned in triumph when Luis’s head followed hers back to her pillow and a large hand buried itself in her hair, cradling the back of her head and changing the angle and the pressure with which their lips met. She was panting when they broke apart, but the smile on her face was there to stay as her fingertips danced over the shell of Luis’s ear before sweeping down his side and landing on the small of his back, coaxing him closer. “Don’t stop now.” Luis’s solid weight pinning her down to the bed made it harder for her to breath, but in a good way. “We haven’t made it to Denver yet.”

    Luis arched a dark brow at her but didn’t say anything, too focused on the delicious feel of her beneath him after long months, years, of denying himself. This close the irises of her eyes were an even more brilliant blue than he remembered. He could smell the sweet, intoxicating scent of her perfume where it clung to the hollow of her throat. She was warm and soft and everything he hadn’t allowed himself to miss during their time apart, and his heart hadn’t felt so full in a long, long time. Returning her infectious smile, he realized she was speaking again, the words bubbling from her mouth amidst giddy laughter, and that her hands had taken on a life of their own, mapping the dips and valleys of his spine and shoulders.

    “...that the first one shouldn’t count. Just consider it practice,” Sheridan punctuated the suggestion with a press of her lips to the line of his jaw. “We’ve been so, so, so stupid,” she bit back a sigh when Luis’s palm cupped her shoulder and his head dropped to brush a kiss across the freckle he found there. Turning her head slightly and bringing them cheek to cheek, she slid her arms around Luis in a tight hug and held on, just breathing him in. Her voice was hoarse with the threat of tears when she whispered, into the crease of his neck, “Never again. Don’t let me…Luis, let’s not…” She trailed off helplessly as his arms encircled her in kind and let herself be comforted by the strong beat of his heart and the cadence of his breathing.

    By the time Martin fit his key in the front door’s lock and Pilar shushed the puppy’s eager welcoming bark, they’d traveled the world and back and lay atop the covers locked in each other’s embrace, only Luis stirring at his mother’s unmistakable touch as she tucked the patchwork quilt around both of their shoulders and turned off the bedside lamp. “Mama, this isn’t…”

    Her voice when she cut him off was soft but insistent, her smile hidden from him by the shadows. “Sleep, mi hijo. You’ll have time for your explanations in the morning.”

    “Mama,” Luis called softly, and she lingered in the doorway, her hand on the knob.

    “Luis,” came her quiet answer.

    “Thank you.”

    “You’re welcome,” Pilar said, pulling the door closed with one last word of advice. “Now sleep or you’ll wake Sheridan.”

    Tightening his arms around Sheridan, Luis did just that.

    In the morning he made them all blueberry pancakes.


    A ring rest on her finger now, a band of simple gold, its value more precious to Sheridan than all the diamonds, rubies, and sapphires the world over. She thought back to that morning, months ago now, and Luis’s blurted proposal over a sink full of dishes. His blunt “Marry me” had stunned her so much she’d dropped the dish in her hand, and the resulting crash had brought the rest of the household running. The answer she’d given him that morning hadn’t been the one Luis or the rest of his family had been hoping for; what had easily been one of the happiest mornings Sheridan could remember had quickly deteriorated into one of the worst. She could still remember the hurt in Luis’s beautiful eyes.

    Her father’s laughter had been cruel, ripping into her heart like the pain of a thousand knives, when she’d gone to him, begging him to help her understand why. Why she was the person she was, damaged, and when it came down to it, incapable of blindly accepting a love such as Luis’s love for her.

    She’d gone to the Mansion as Sheridan Crane; she returned to Luis as the Northern star appeared high in the sky stripped bare of her name and the identity born and forged in that horrible house.

    Over the next few months, Luis proposed to her twice more.

    Each time, Sheridan’s answer was the same. “No.”

    They’d fought bitterly—with each other, with their family, with their friends, with themselves—and they’d loved more fiercely than they’d ever loved before, never forgetting the vow they’d made each other, their promise of never again.

    When Sheridan finally left the Bed and Breakfast behind, moving into a small two bedroom apartment with Fancy, Spring was painting Harmony in lush green tones and chasing Winter’s chill away. Marty and “Chewie” (as Fancy had affectionately dubbed the overgrown pup after an incident involving a pair of her less liked—fortunately—Italian pumps) spent many a night camped out in sleeping bags upon the living room floor, cartoons playing late into the night, while behind closed doors, Sheridan let Luis whisper in her ear about a future she insisted on holding at arms’ length. Those mornings always dawned with Marty’s blond head peeking around the door before he’d race, four-legged friend on his heels, to the bed and launch himself on top of them both with giggles and pleas for breakfast.

    Through (mostly burnt) trial and error, Luis helped Sheridan and Fancy broaden their culinary expertise during those mornings; it was still many, many mornings later, however, before Marty was treated to a meal other than waffles or cereal on the rare occasion he spent the night at the apartment without his father also present.

    The months marched on as they worked and loved and played and fought some more, and Sheridan became simply Sheridan, Marty’s mother and the woman that loved and was loved by Luis Lopez-Fitzgerald.

    The fourth time Luis proposed—coming off the heels of Sheridan’s first proposal to Luis, over a plate of woefully overdone blueberry pancakes that Luis (bless his heart) had plowed doggedly through in the interest of not hurting her feelings—Sheridan’s answer was a quiet, determined, “Yes.”

    She walked down the church aisle on her brother’s arm, and happy tears streamed down her mother’s face as Sheridan pledged her eternity to the man standing, smiling, in front of her. Marty was every bit the dapper little gentleman, and Fancy blushed when the bouquet landed in her surprised hands.

    Still, those memories hadn’t been the most lasting Sheridan had taken from that night; not at all, she thought, shoulders tense and defenses raised as she felt more than heard Luis’s approach. Softly, she acknowledged his presence, fingers paling when she gripped the counter in front of her, hard. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t the way…I’m just…sorry.” She flinched slightly when Luis reached around her, gently prying her fingers loose and taking her hand in his own, his back a solid, muscular wall behind her. Her blue eyes were drawn to the matching wedding band on his finger, and when she felt the ball of hurt rising in her throat all over again, she withdrew her hand from his, slipping from his arms and putting some distance between them.

    Luis’s voice was rough with regret when he finally spoke. “You were right; I shouldn’t have snapped at Marty like that.” Marty, though, had been the tip of the iceberg; the fight had rapidly escalated from there, leaving the two of them barely able to speak to each other and their son whisked off to the safe-haven of his grandparents’ home.

    “No, you shouldn’t have,” Sheridan risked a glance at him, eyes bright with unshed tears. “But I was wrong too,” she admitted, her own voice just as soft with remorse, “letting him run wild like that while you were studying. Luis, you’re working so hard, between your classes and the hours you put in at the P.D.; keeping him out of your hair is the least I could do.”

    “Marty’s my son,” Luis responded. “You’re my wife,” he continued, feeling the guilt settle heavily in his gut at the sniffle that the comment elicited. “I’m not being fair to either one of you by asking you to do that. Dammit,” he swore, scrubbing his hands over his features roughly. “I never thought…”

    “That it would be this hard,” Sheridan finished for him, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand. “Maybe we should have waited, Luis. Until you finished school or Marty was farther in school. Maybe then it would be easier. Maybe…”

    “That’s an awful lot of ‘maybe’s,’ Sheridan.” Luis pulled a chair out from the kitchen table, dropping down into it wearily. A cold nose nudged his hand, and he scratched behind the dog’s ears absently, as he considered their options. Finances were already tight; he knew, in the coming months, they would be stretched even tighter. In his mind, he kept coming back to the same solution. Gruffly, he told her, “I’ll drop out of school, pick up extra shifts at the station.” He looked up sharply at her vehement answer.

    “No,” she repeated more calmly, dragging her lip between her teeth and biting down harsher words. “It’s not coming down to that; I won’t let you throw your dreams away all over again.” Pacing the confines of the small kitchen, she thought out loud. “Mother. Mother can help us, Luis. I know you don’t like the thought of relying on my inheritance…”

    Luis was quick to shoot the idea down, his eyes growing dangerously dark at the mere idea. “No, Sheridan. No.”

    Losing patience with his stubbornness, Sheridan whirled angrily on him. “If not my inheritance, then what? The money I’ve made so far with my pictures is just a drop in the bucket, and you’re killing yourself with the hours you’re working on top of school and the time you’re able to carve out for me and Marty. Babies are expensive, Luis. Oh God,” her face crumpled before him. “We should have been more careful,” she cried as Luis pulled her bodily into his lap and threaded his fingers through her hair.

    Desperate to bring a little levity to the conversation and staunch her tears, Luis launched an inquiry, combing his fingers tenderly through her hair, “Are we 100% positive I’m the father? I have it on good authority that Hank spent more than his fair share of nights at the apartment, and this baby seems to have his impeccable sense of timing.”

    “You’re not funny, Luis,” came Sheridan’s muffled reply from his shoulder. Her fingers clenched and unclenched the material of his sweater nervously. She squeezed his fingers tight when he seized her hand.

    “We’ll move back in with Mama and Papa,” Luis murmured against her brow. “Marty’s room is just like he left it, and I’m sure Paloma and Theresa won’t mind their old room being converted into a nursery for the baby.”

    Everything he said was true, Sheridan knew; since moving in with Fancy, Paloma no longer had use for her room, and, as her father’s reluctant wife, Theresa rarely had the opportunity to visit. Still, Pilar and Martin had their home to themselves for the first time in years. “We can’t do that to your parents, Luis,” Sheridan fretted miserably.

    “Just until we get back on our feet,” Luis’s lips brushed against her forehead. “Plus, with me being gone so much, Mama and Papa can keep an eye on you and Marty.”

    “What about the dog?” Sheridan mumbled, her brows furrowing and her hand moving to rest above Luis’s heart. “I’ve been told he’s a real deal-breaker.”

    Slipping a sly hand beneath her shirt to rest low on her belly, Luis teased, “Not that great of a guard-dog, seeing how I already got you pregnant.”

    “Oh, Luis, you…” Sheridan’s fingers slid over Luis’s jaw as his mouth took hers in a possessive, passionate kiss. She blinked, speechless, when he finally let her go.

    “That’s what I thought,” Luis grinned, fingers hooking under her chin and pulling her close for a softer, gentler second kiss. “It won’t be easy,” he said, promise in his words.

    “Nobody ever said it would,” Sheridan whispered.


    “Nothing worthwhile ever is.”

    As always, thanks for reading!!!

    Hope you enjoyed the ride half as much as I did.

    Feedback is love!

  2. #18

    Re: Imitation of Life (Sheridan and Luis)

    i loved it loved it. i cried, i laughed and i simply loved it. yay


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