Free To See You Again by marian gard

have at least two kids,
who, judging by the insane amount of photos of them, must have every moment of
their lives photographed. They live in Chicago, not sure which neighborhood. It
looks like she got her five-year plan. My mind is centered on Rachel,
though, and I'm wondering if she got hers, too.  She never thought I knew about
that, but I'd heard her and Tabby talk about it more than once.
    Rachel was the most focused person I'd ever met.
Her drive was pure, genuine, entirely based on her desire to become something
more, the culmination of all of her hard work, not at all like the artificial
greed-centered version that encapsulated my stepfather, Victor. Her hard work
was never about competition, pleasing someone, or meeting artificial standards.
Her relentless sense of hope and passion is what, more than anything, drew me
to her at the time. I was so vacant and empty back then; sometimes I felt like
she was the only thing anchoring me to the earth. If it hadn't been for her I
would've simply blown away like a discarded newspaper crumpling and tearing in
the wind.
    Part of me wants her to have found everything she
desired and the other half wants her to still be missing something, that piece
of her I'd once hoped had belonged to me. Vanessa must have at least four
hundred pictures on here and I would be willing to bet Rachel is in at least
one of them. I become acutely aware of Leighton scrutinizing me and I click off
the Internet and shut the laptop—there will be time for this later, sans an
unwanted audience.
    I turn and face her apprehensive eyes. "Don't do
anything like that again."
    Her mouth falls slightly open and her eyes are
wide. "Do you want me to take it down?"
    I shake my head ‘no' and rise off the couch.
"Let's go get some dinner."

Chapter 6
Rachel
     
    Beckett is cooking up a storm when I arrive, and
as usual, it smell delicious. I love that Beck knows his way around the
kitchen, because I'm useless when it comes to cooking. Managing not to burn
grilled cheese is still a culinary feat for me. I shrug off my coat and take a
minute to drink in my man. Beck is tall with dark curly hair and blue eyes
nearly the same shade as my own. Vanessa once told me she thought we looked
related. "Seriously, like fraternal twins or something. He's the male you!" The
death stare she received as a result of that comment was enough for her to
never revive the topic of our resemblance ever again.
    At the sound of me tossing my commuter bag down on
the floor, he turns and charges toward me, scooping me up in one fluid motion.
Our usual quick peck greeting is transformed into something a little more seductive.
I gasp and he grabs my behind. Make that a lot more seductive. I moan
into his mouth, part of me turned on, part of me protesting. He pulls back and
serves me up a wicked smile.
    "I'm proud of you, baby."
    "Thanks," I reply, still a little breathless from
his attack. "You shouldn't be proud of me yet, though, nothing's happened."
    Beckett returns to the stove and begins serving up
heaping portions of chicken, pasta and red sauce onto two plates. "But it
will." His voice is so confident, I nearly believe him. He places the plates
down on his kitchen table and grins at me.
    I pull out a chair, sit, and then look up at him.
"I wish I had your confidence in myself. This whole thing is going to happen
pretty quick and I really hope I'm prepared. Speaking of which, do we have
plans on Friday?"
    Beckett raises his eyebrows at me as he sips his
wine. "I don't think so. Why?"
    "Tim has tickets for you and me to attend this
charity event. Apparently the C.E.O. from Marshmen's will be there along with
our main competition."
    "Who's the main competition?" Beck looks
intrigued.
    I shrug. "You know Tim. I was lucky to get all the
information out of him that I did. All I know is it used to be this company
that just handled primarily high-end photos and clip art type stuff for
advertising and recently either merged or acquired this