...You're always going to be my only man...

Adele was sitting in her family home, awaiting the return of the only sister who had not made it back yet from her honeymoon.

Aubrey and Spencer spent an extra week or so in England, saying a proper goodbye to their friends and Spencer's family before they came back to live here permanently.

After that, the whole family would be back together again.

Of course, that meant to Adele, that they would unite together to get her a boyfriend. Arianne, Alesha and Annabelle had already set her up for a date or two in the next few weeks.

Which is why, when Aubrey came through the door covered in heavy bags, the first thing that escapes her mouth is, "I got Raymond's number for you!"

"I missed you too Aubrey."

"Don't get prissy with me, girl. You should be thanking me, actually, you should be thanking Raymond, he was the one who brought it up first, to which made me almost squeal in excitement, but don't worry, I held it in, as to not embarrass you. Be proud of me, it was tough." Finally, Aubrey pauses to take a breath, before continuing on with, "He was telling me something about an unfinished story you had to tell? He wouldn't tell me what it was about. So tell me, Adele, what's this story about huh?"

In answer to all of that, Adele actually smiles and says, "Just some story I take pride in the fact that I've perfected. You wouldn't find it very interesting sorry."

Aubrey pouts, "Aw, but I'm your sister! Can't you just tell me? I'll keep it a secret I swear, cross my heart hope to die."

"Nope, not happening, if it makes you feel any better though, I have a certain Raymond to call, number please," Adele holds her hand out expectantly.

Before any such number is passed over though Aubrey starts giggling like a little girl who just got kissed on the check by a boy she likes.

Adele sighs, hiding a smirk, "Aubrey, if you don't give me the number in the next twenty seconds or so I swear I'll-"

She didn't even get to finish her threat when a mobile phone was thrust into her hand.

Aubrey, still giggling, says, "Use my phone, I insist. It's under Ray-Ray. Have fun calling your future husband!"

Unable to even disagree, because Aubrey had rushed out the door to collect more bags, Adele walks up the stairs, skips the creaking step, and heads to her room, scrolling down the mobile's contacts while doing so.

Once finding the right number, and eagerly pressing the green button, Adele waits for the ringing to end, being replaced with that same English accent she hadn't heard for some weeks.

It doesn't take long.

"Hey Aubrey," it greets, "You got back safely then I take it?"

"It's Adele," Adele giggles slightly at the mix-up, "I owe you a story."

"Oh, hello," Adele could hear the pleasant surprise clearly in his voice. "That you do. Do you have any idea how confused I was when I last saw you, being pulled away by Aubrey, only just finding out that you were the same Adele who was saving a family, or something like it?

"No, actually I don't," Adele says amused.

"Really confused!" He says exasperated. "So now, if you will, which you will because I won't be able to stand it if you don't, please continue on with the story."

Feeling rather cheeky, Adele answers in thought, "I don't know. I'm not sure if I can do that for you actually."

"Why not?" Raymond demands, though you can hear a smile in his voice.

"Well, for one thing," Adele returns, "We're on mobile, talking to the other on the other side of the world. I have a feeling we may not be able to afford it. After all, my story isn't exactly short."

He chuckles at her last sentence, "Not short at all, it took you at least an hour to get through the start of it. Not that I'm complaining of course, being in the presence of a pretty lady telling me an entertaining tale."

"Well, when you put it that way, I have no choice but to tell you the rest of the story."

"True that," he agrees. "And to solve the problem of going broke, we'll make it twenty minutes or so by phone, we'll continue this on email yes?"

"It's a deal, mister."

"Then begin the second part of your tale, missy."

Adele laughs, then putting on a professional voice begins, "Adele, only just have gotten this new determination, heads over for her oldest sister's house, in hope for a story herself…"

"Hello, Arianne?" I call as I knock on the door. "Opening the door would be nice."

It opens, and it's actually Greg who answers, wearing boxers.

He looks flushed. "Ah, hi Adele, Ari's just getting dressed."

"Please tell me I didn't interrupt anything that involves no clothes," I almost whine. "I'm not in the mood to have bad mental images in my head. Actually, I'm never in the mood believe it or not."

He leads me through to the kitchen chuckling and I sit on the red stool, because it is my favourite and I've claimed it as mine.

We hear Arianne's voice floating in from the bedroom, "Greg, can you help me get the zip?"

Always the savior, Greg goes to help, and hopefully to put some more clothes on too, I'm here to talk business with my sister, and I don't need an almost naked man to cause a distraction for her, or me, in which case it'd be a distraction in a revolting way.

Minutes pass peacefully, I hear the back door, some mumbled words, and then my oldest blue eyed big sister appears, still looking rather flushed.

My nose twitches in distaste, Arianne notices, "Adele, if you don't want to have the mental images, don't come this early, it's your fault for being a morning person."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," I chant. "Has your hubby gone to work?"

"He's not my husband yet, and yes, he has. He's off to save lives in one way or another."

"You do realise firefighters don't get Christmas off sometimes?"

"Yes," she answered, surprisingly okay with that. "Instead, he'll be rescuing those in trouble. He loves it, how can I complain? He loves it, and I love that he loves it. I also love that he's always trying to save the day. He's saved my day more than enough."

Yes, lots of love in the air here apparently, how sweet. I'm not sure if that was sarcastic or not.

"Actually, that's exactly what I came here to talk to you about."

"It is?" She asks, sounding confused.

"Yep," I confirm before asking, "I'm the adorable littlest sister, yes?"

"Well, I can certainly tolerate you," she says, a scowl on her face. "Unlike some other sisters I know."

"Please don't bring that up sis, not yet anyway," I politely request. "Back to the point, you can talk to me yes?"

"Yes," she answers, now curious as to what I want.

"You trust me to keep your secrets yes?"

"Mostly, yes," her voice now full of suspicion.

"As an author, you tell stories with great detail yes?"

"Yes."

"Well then," I smile happily, "Can you please tell me your life story of why you dislike our sisters starting from that Harry guy in detail, please?"

"That was what you want to know? Why?"

I feign innocence, "Because, darling sister, I am interested in hearing about your life?"

"Yeah right," I pout my bottom lip. "Fine! The part from Harry you say? I'm amazing you even remember him, you were so little at the time."

"I was eleven," I state dryly, "Old enough to have eyes, ears, and a memory, believe it or not."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," she mimics. "Do you want to hear this story or not?"

"I do."

"Well, then, listen," She pauses, looking over at me, and starts reciting like she really was reading out of a book, "I met Harry through friends. I was young and naïve and I thought I loved him. So, at twenty-five, I moved in with him, absolutely obsessed with the thought that he was gonna be the man I was goning to spend the rest of my life with..."

---

I couldn't believe it, after at least five months of dating, I was living with the man of my dreams, and on top of that, I was even further away from family members, moving to a few more kilometres away.

Sitting on the kitchen stool now, looking out the window and finding a nice healthy patch of dirt, I can't help but imagine my life further on.

I'll plant pink tulips and a few years on when Harry proposes, we'll spend the night rolling around in them, even if it means waiting for the next spring for them to grow again.

A year later, we'll have a child, and I'll be a successful gossip column journalist, maybe even have written my own book. Harry and I will play hide and seek in the backyard with our son, and he'll hid in the tulips every time. We'll pretend we don't notice the plants giggling. His name will be Owen, because that's Harry's middle name.

Then, later, we'll have a daughter, and her name will be Rose, after my middle name. The kids will spend most of their days outside, playing in the cubby house behind the garden that Harry spent one summer making, and I spent painting. It will be all the colours of the rainbow, helping the kids use their imaginations on what to play on different days.

I'll take Owen to soccer practice, and Rose to ballet, and when I'm old and gray, Harry will still be by my side, because he has always loved me as I have loved him,

It will be magnificent!

Harry, the very man himself, has woken up by this point, walked into the kitchen and automatically grabbed for the cup of coffee I make sure I leave for him everyday.

"Hey honey," he greets with what I know is pure admiration and love in his voice. "How was your first night at your new home?"

"Amazing," I sigh dreamily, thinking of the part before the actual sleeping specifically.

He gives me a heated kiss now, knowing what's on my mind. Unfortunately, I have to be at work soon, so I mutter an apology, before heading to the bedroom; our bedroom.

"Babe, just where do you think you're going?" He demands, though he adds a smile afterwards, so I know he's only joking.

Knowing exactly what he wants, I head back over to him, and give him another bit of smooching, until he pulls away, giving me the indication that I am now free to go.

As I'm leaving for work, Harry shouts out from the bathroom, "Bye babe, see you tonight!"

It's just the prefect start, to another perfect day.

I'm a writer, a journalist to be exact, currently, only writing small pieces for this magazine. My dream though, is to be writing the gossip column in the magazine, 'Florence', a best seller, and the best magazine as far as I'm concerned.

I'm also thinking of starting a book in my spare time as well, maybe when I'm a little more settled down though.

Other then writing, I would have to say that reading is my next best hobby. I swear I go through a book a night. I own too many too, so I keep most of them in my old bedroom back at the family home, which is really the only reason why I go visit.

Actually, I purposely leave most of my books there so I visit, otherwise I know I wouldn't. What's the use? I only get into arguments with Annabelle there. Not to mention the silence is suffocating.

Mum's always at work, and dad hides away doing whatever it is he does. Adele is as quiet as a mouse anyway. Thankfully, Alesha moved out ages ago. I got so sick of being yelled at for 'disrupting the silence she deserves from hangovers'. Aubrey moved out too, but we're actually close, despite the four and a half age difference.

I'm heading over to her place now. Apparently she has some important stuff she needs my help with.

Heading up her driveway now, I grab the spare key she gave me and don't even bother knocking on the door, as I know Aubrey won't finish work for another ten minutes or so.

It's literally my second home, especially now, since I sold my old one and am living with Harry. Even though this one comes without a healthy patch of dirt, it's so cozy and cute. It suits Aubrey perfectly.

Ruby red curtains outline the window frames, standing out against the yellow wall paint. Her couches are an orangey-brown I guess you could call it, with red and yellow cushions to match the room. My favourite part of the lounge though, would have to be the plasma television. It is big, and it can be loud.

It's on right now surprisingly. Loud music is blasting through the speakers, rebounding off the walls making it just that much louder.

Figuring my sister was just having a frantic day this morning I turn it off, thinking of all the black balloons it would have been producing.

Instead of silence though, I get a, "Hey! Who turned the music off?" obviously directed at me, coming from the direction of the kitchen.

Apparently Aubrey has a male visitor. She better not have done an 'Alesha', another reason I hated it when Alesha still lived at home, or I will have to give her the lecture I have perfected over the years I normally give to Alesha and whoever she had brought home for a 'play' that day.

A good looking male visitor. He's obviously in the middle of making a peanut butter and jam sandwich, because he has all the right ingredients out except the jam, which he wouldn't be able to find anyway, since Aubrey hides it behind the cook books, not in the vegetable section of the fridge where he is currently looking.

I decide to come to his aid and go get it for him.

"Hey Aubrey, what'd you turn my music off for?"

I turn around smiling, as I had him the jam. He seems to notice 'Aubrey's' sudden change in appearance, "You're not Aubrey."

"I know that," I reply cheekily.

"Does that mean you're one of her sisters?" He guessed.

I nod my head in confirmation telling him to, "Keep guessing."

He studies me, obviously trying to obey my instruction, I study him too. He looks too old for twenty-one year old sister, at around twenty eight. She always seems to get the good looking ones. Not that I don't think Harry's good looking with his dyed pale brown hair, almost a beige colour, that seems lighter than his complexion and a little moustache, below his larger than average nose, that he's been trying to grow. No, Harry will always seem knight-like to me, no matter how he looks.

This guy's attractiveness however, is less imaginary and more realistic than that of Harry's; dark brown hair, warm brown eyes, a soft sprinkle of hair going from one ear down around past the mouth that always looks like it's grinning to the other ear, indicating he hasn't had a shave recently.

"You're Ari," he suddenly states.

"How did you know?"

He grins at his accuracy, "Honestly, it's the only sister Aubrey talks nicely about."

I smile, admitting truthfully, "Her, I."

"Are you the rebels of the family or something?" He asks, curious.

I think about it for a moment. With Alesha's partying, Annabelle's worse than average teenage attitude, and I guess Adele doesn't count, because I don't think she's able to be a rebel, as innocent as she is at eleven.

So in conclusion to my thoughts, "No, I reckon Aubrey and I are the normal ones."

"I see," he says.

I suddenly remember I'm talking to a stranger in my sister's kitchen because I ask, "Who are you, anyway, and what are you doing in my sister's kitchen eating a sandwich?"

Of course, that's when Aubrey comes through the door shouting, "Sissy! I have a date soon, and I need your help choosing clothes! Where are you?"

"Kitchen!" I shout out in answer.

She comes rushing through, for a moment looking confused at the view of a certain male before saying, "Greg, I totally forgot I invited you over beforehand."

"It's all good. I found the television alright, the only thing I couldn't find, was the jam, which your sister got for me."

She looks to me and shouts in the cheerful way that she always sounds, clapping her hands together, "Right, introductions! Greg, this is Ari, or Arianne, my oldest sister. Ari, this is Greg, my date. Cool huh? Now that you know each other, I'm stealing Ari and taking to my room. It's nothing personal Greg, just business. I'll be out soon, promise!"

In the bedroom, "Ari, isn't he just gorgeous?" I open my mouth to agree, but am cut off, "And that's not even the best part! You should have seen him on the night we met, he practically saved my life!"

"That's great sis, really."

Her smile gets bigger, if that's possible, in return.

"How was your first night at Harry's place by the way? Anything special happen?" She suddenly asks, cocking an eyebrow during the latter sentence.

I feel my cheeks redden slightly, "Oh, you know, amazing."

She wipes a pretend tear from her check while sobbing, "My sister's all grown up now."

"Oh shut up," I smile. "Now, where are you going for your date?"

"Ah, I think Greg said we were going ah," she runs out the door then runs back in five seconds later, "we're going to the park for tea, then watching a movie that's playing there tonight."

"So warm clothes?"

"If you think so, then yes, warm clothes it is." She heads to the cupboard and pulls out a whole heap of clothes, throwing them on the bed.

"You know, you didn't need to do that, I could have just looked through the cupboard," I point out, seeing the clothes as time consuming task to put away a waste instead of a help.

"Well, too bad, this ways easier for me."

"You're putting them away."

"Fine," she says pointedly

"Fine," I mimic.

We both look over at each other and burst out laughing.

She ends up choosing skinny blue jeans, a simple white long-sleeve top, with a big fluffy, patchy red jacket over top. Simple, but not plain, nothing's ever plain on Aubrey. Me, on the other hand…

By the time they leave Aubrey had forgotten to pack up the clothes. I do it for her without a second thought.

That night, I was excited, and why wouldn't I be? It was my second night sleeping in Harry's house; our house now.

For some reason though, Harry wasn't home yet. I was trying not to get too worried about him. He was most likely working on the last design for a building or something.

After almost one year of knowing him I never really understood how an architect worked. He makes building plans, that's all I know. Harry's never really talked about his work. Although, I don't tell him much about my work either, but that's because I know he doesn't care for that kind of thing. I am however, interested in architecture, and though I've told him so he still doesn't tell me much about it. He'll open up to me soon enough I reckon; even if it is only his work and probably boring.

When he doesn't come home in time for the lasagna I made, one of his favourites, I'm worried enough to try calling him.

No answer.

Ten minutes later I take the deep breath I know I need. I take another. Then I sit in the chair closest to door with my book and read, looking up every ten minutes or so when I think I hear a car pass.

I finish my book, it wasn't a small one either, not only is this bad because it means I have to go visit the family home, but Harry's still not home.

An hour or so later, of watching a late night movie on the television, I give up and head to bed. I barely sleep. Harry doesn't end up coming home.

Not until eight o'clock the next morning. I'm sitting in the kitchen waiting for my toast to pop at that time, big blue bags under my eyes.

"Morning babe," he greets cheerily. "You look tired, didn't sleep well I take it?"

I glance at him, wondering what on earth got him in such a good mood.

I for one am not in the same mood. I tell him so; "I feel like crap."

He smirks at my low grouchy voice, "You look it."

I smile a little at his attempt at a joke to cheer me up. I'm still concerned though, "Where were you last night?"

"Just out with some of the guys, I ended up sleeping at Jeffrey's place."

"Oh, that's fine. Can you just tell me where you're going next time? I was worried."

"I know you were. I had almost twenty missed calls this morning."

I crinkle my nose up, feeling embarrassed, suggesting, "Why don't you invite me next time? That'll be fun won't it?"

"Um, yeah, maybe next time," he agreed, though uncertainty and no promise heard is his voice.

I look at him, confused.

He must have seen his mistake or something, because he then says, "Hey, why don't we go out tonight instead?"

Overjoyed at the thought, I nod eagerly in reply, already feeling impatient for the day to be over.

The day was a long and tiring one. Some worker got caught sleeping with some other worker during the time they should have been working. They got fired. We we're now running behind because of it.

By the time I get home, I'm exhausted, and more then ready to go out, needing some quiet loving time with Harry. He ends up taking me to the Bauldaw, a classy restaurant that we haven't had a chance to check out yet.

The first thing I notice is that it's very plain. Plain, as in brown wooden floors, painted black ceiling, black tables, and white and light grey chairs that curve outwards to accompany their sitter's backs.

The second thing I notice is the chandeliers hanging above that are very impressive. They let their pretend candle cases, made out of glass by the looks of it, give off light that gives the whole room a glowing warmth. Or a warming glow. I can't decide which. Honestly, the chandeliers reminds me of Aubrey; being able to turn plain into something magical.

"Honey, I got us booked at table seventeen, coming?"

I nod and let him lead the way.

After ordering a sea food serve for two, we settle into small talk.

"How was your day? You went and visited your sister didn't you?"

"Yes, she invited me over to help her choose what clothes to wear tonight for her date with this guy. He's nice."

Harry cocks his eyebrows suspiciously, "How nice?"

I roll my eyes teasingly, knowing where this is going. "Nice as in great boyfriend material for Aubrey," I explain before reassuring him, "Don't worry Harry. You're always going to be my only man."

He nods happily at that.

Our food soon arrives and we eat it in silence, feeding each other mouthfuls. The sexual tension in the room keeps building until finally Harry and I leave, heading straight home to the bedroom…

A/N: My questions to you…

What do you think of Arianne so far? And have you guessed what the first part of Aubrey's story is going to be?

Who else takes 2 hours to write 500 words sometimes? And not because of writers block. I think I'm just lazy.

Comment:

It may not seem like it, but I didn't make Arianne a writer who read books because that's what I do (especially the reading part) and want to be when I grow up; I actually don't. It's just because that's what I saw when I pictured Arianne's job.

Oh, and tell me what you think? Please.