A/N: Hey guys!! Wow, I've never been away from writing for so long! I'm sorry it's taken me so much time, but my life has been really hectic and wattpad hasn't been on my list of priorities. That being said, I still get ideas that'll run in my head at random times for stuff that could happen in the story, and I write them all down. I'm very excited to continue this story! Do note that I still can't write regularly, but I doubt it'll be as long as it took me before to write this chapter. Finally, thank you for sticking with me on my journey writing this story. Now, I hope you enjoy!

Haley's POV

Sitting in a car with the guy who used to be your best friend, the guy that once upon a time knew everything and anything there was to know about you and now has to be your on-screen boyfriend, was seriously awkward.

I kept my gaze on my window as we drove, forcing my gaze to remain on the scenery passing by instead of giving in to the temptation to look at him whenever I felt him glance at me. I wondered what he thought when he looked at me. I wasn't the same girl that I had been when I'd left four and a half years ago. I'd filled out in some places and become leaner from hours of dancing in others. My hair was cut a little shorter and I tended to style it in big curls rather than the bone straight style I'd had in my younger years.

Did he notice anything on me?

I drove myself crazy with the questions running rampant in my head, until Sam suddenly pushed a button to play some very loud Jesse J. I looked at him quizzically, and he shrugged.

"I could practically see your head steaming from all the thinking going on. You're going to pop a blood vessel or something if you keep going like that."

I stared. I'd almost forgotten how easily he could read me. Whereas Alex always told me I was an enigma he loved to solve, Sam always saw me as an open book. He could easily decipher how I was feeling and what I was thinking, and I did not like that at all.

Lost in though again, I didn't notice where we were headed until I finally felt the car stopping in a parking lot. I looked up to find the big, red, funky sign on the brick building pronouncing it as Dominic's.

A smile bloomed on my face immediately, and my feelings were temporarily forgotten as I turned to Sam who was already looking at me with a knowing smile.

"I figured we'd get some food at our old, favorite place. You may have moved to LA and had some great food over there, but I highly doubt you've found anyone to replace to Dominic and his food. Come on, he'll be super happy to see you."

We got out of the car and walked quickly to the door. The moment we were inside, I breathed in the scent of what I knew firsthand to be the most amazing pizza in the world. A beautiful, upbeat Italian female voice came through their speakers on either side of the restaurant.

And, through it all, the voice of the man who became like a grandfather to me when I was little could be heard laughing in the kitchen.

Sam and I walked over to one of the many bright red booths, sitting opposite each other with the acacia wood table between us seeming to hold all the problems that still stood between us and finding our way back go who we were.

The waiter came over to give us menus, and I took it for the sake of covering my face and controlling my emotions without Sam's assessing eyes watching my every move. The plastic suddenly moved down, and I looked up to see Sam raising an eyebrow.

"Seriously? Get real. You know this menu better than the cooks do. Dominic hasn't, and he probably won't ever, change it. Can you please stop avoiding me and just talk? Don't you think three years without communication is enough?"

I felt my back stiffen immediately at the annoyance piercing through his voice.

"Although I admit it was a bit melodramatic of me to stop coming home and avoiding anything that somehow related to you for three years, I still believe I'm justified in staying away from you."

"I get that now. I had no idea what had been actually happening back then, Haley. You know I would never stand for it if I had."

"I don't know anything. I thought I did, but I turned out to be wrong when you refused to believe me when I needed you. You just turned your back on me and believed your girlfriend."

"Haley, I-"

"Look," I interrupted him. " I don't feel like having this conversation here. It's not right. Let's just order food and go somewhere else."

His jaw ticks once, twice, and then he nods in agreement slowly. The waiter comes back to ask for our orders, and before I can get a word in, he tells her both food orders. I stare in surprise as he orders a three slices of onion and chorizo pizza with a side of stuffed mushrooms for me and an order of beef lasagne with seasoned fries for him. And, of course, two slices of Dominic's signature triple delight cake.

I wait until the waiter leaves to glare at him. He looks at me in confusion.

"What? I got you what you like."

"And if my tastes have changed in these three years?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Have they?"

"Well, no," I say uncomfortably, fidgeting in my seat, because I know I'm being slightly unreasonable. "But, you still should have asked. You don't know me anymore Sam. Many things have changed, and I don't want you think I'm the same person that I was when I left."

He stares at me silently for a minute with a thoughtful look on his face, and after finishing his contemplation of God only knows what, he sighs.

"I'm sorry. I guess there is a part of me that wants to remind you that I know you better than anyone else, but I should have realized that that's probably not the case anymore."

He slumps back in his seat, and I sit rigidly staring at the scratched surface of the table, unable to let go of the mess of problems that lies between us like a ticking time bomb. We steal glances at each other as we wait, but neither of us acknowledges the other's perusal for fear of breaking the temporary truce that seems to have been made.

Just as I'm about to suggest going into the kitchen and just stealing the food from how hungry I am and how tense the atmosphere is, I hear a gritty baritone voice bellow my name. Immediately, a smile stretches across my face, and I turn to see one of my favorite people in the world headed my way with two bags full of takeout.

Dominic Ardiccioni. Businessman, cook, husband, father, and the best pizza maker San Diego had ever seen. He'd hardly changed since the last time I'd seen him. Oh sure, a few more wrinkles had popped up on his face, and maybe his hands seemed an bit more weathered, but he is still the handsome Italian man that snuck me a slice of cake when lever I used to come visit him.

"Dio! I do not believe it! My Hailey has finally come back to me! I say to Marco just the other day, I wonder what happened to my principessa piccola? She leave me so long ago and forget all about me in the Hollywood."

By the time he finishes his rant, I'm beaming from ear to ear. Dominic's accent remained just as strong as ever, no matter how many years he remained in the States. His nickname for me, little princess, was one of the best things about talking with him. He also tended to add definite articles where they weren't needed, such as "The Google" or "The Hollywood". It was one of the most endearing things in the world.

"Oh Dom!" I exclaimed, standing up to be engulfed in his embrace once he had put the food on the table. "I'm sorry I didn't visit, but missed you so much!"

"You could have fooled me! I see you on the little TV screen with my Elizabeth, and I say to myself, my principessa piccola is all big now and she have no time for this old man. She forget all about me!"

"Never," I promise him, looking into the sweetest eyes known to man.

"Well, you have places to be, I will not keep you with me. You must go with bel faccino here, but promise me you will come back? You know I miss all my girls when they leave me!"

"I promise. I'll be sticking around for a while, so I'll pop in when I can."

We hug one more time, and then he leaves back into the kitchen. I turn to see Sam standing next to me holding the bags, leaning on the table with a self-satisfied smile. 

"What?" I ask, crossing my arms self-consciously.

"Nothing. Nothing at all."

And with that enlightening statement, he leads me back to the car and drives away. The tantalizing smell of delicious Italian food surrounds me and makes my stomach growl loud enough for Sam to hear.

"We're almost there, I promise." He says, chuckling.

"We're almost where?"

He gives me a cryptic smile but doesn't respond, making my frustration increase to new heights. I look out the window as the scenery changes, and I realise I do know where I'm going. It's the same route I took so many times when I was younger and going to visit the boy I cared for so much.

Five minutes later, Sam finally turns into the driveway of his house. He begins whistling as he parks, clearly happy to be home and bringing me back to a place filled with so many soured memories.

"Why am I here?" I ask him sullenly, refusing to get out of my seat.

"Haley, we have to talk this out. Talk everything out. And, in order to do that, we need a place that holds some of our best memories. That, to me, is our treehouse."

I gasp, having completely forgotten about the treehouse I'd adored so much in my younger years.

"It's still there?"

"Of course it is. My dad has it reinforced every year to make sure it's stable. All I'm asking is for us to eat our food in there and really talk. I want my best friend back, Haley."

"Fine," I sigh. "I agreed to talk with you, and I will honor that. Beyond that, I can't promise you anything."

I move my gaze away from his uncomfortably intense one and get out of the car. Once he's gathered the food, we step out into the gravel road on the side of his house and we walk all the way to the back of it and take a left. A few steps lead us into a big grove of trees where the Steinfeld's treehouse was.

This wasn't just any old treehouse, though. Oh no, it was practically a small house in the trees. Sam's dad being an architect, he decided to go all out with the treehouse when Sam asked for one. He wanted something sturdy and stable, but also something aesthetically pleasing. And, boy, did he knock it out of the park.

It was gorgeous from top to bottom, with dark wood and gleaming windows on each side. It was big enough for a grown adult to stand in, and it was wide enough and sturdy enough to hold up up to ten people. Sam and I had spent many sleepovers in that treehouse, and just looking at it now brought me back all of those wonderful memories.

(The Steinfeld's treehouse)

We walked up the winding stairs and entered the treehouse. Inside, the air smelled of the daisies on the counter and Sam's favorite cologne. I relished looking around at the pictures of us hanging on the walls and the plush, yellow loveseat Sam and I had decided was necessary to our treehouse when it was first finished.

Sam puts the bags on a table in the middle and turns to look at me with a very serious expression on his face.

"I'm going to take the food out and then we're going to sit, eat, and talk. Okay?"

Sighing, I nod once and turn to the window. The sun is just barely beginning to set, it's bright and luminous colors brightening the interior of the treehouse. Yet, the air between Sam and I was tense with what we'd yet to say and the memories that haunted us.

It was going to be a long talk.

***

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