The next morning, Jim woke up with a hangover and a sense of purpose. Maddie's carefully chosen words had meant something and he couldn't help but wonder what Maddie and Pam talked about during their mornings together. Did they talk about him? Had Pam told her about casino night? Had she said that she had feelings for him? No amount of badgering, sober or drunken, had convinced Maddie to open up. She only said, "It was girl talk. And you're not a girl, which... thank the good Lord for that, honey."

He would have to make up his mind. The rest of this week would set the tone for his friendship with Pam... in that there either would or wouldn't be one. He couldn't be just friends with her. He would always want more than that. Maybe she wanted it too now. Maybe something in California had helped change her mind. If he was being honest with himself, he was too terrified to ask.

There was a soft knock on the door.

"Come in," he said, his voice gravelly from sleep and the hangover.

Pam opened the door and leaned against the door frame. She looked like the walking wounded. Her hair was a mess and she was bundled in a fuzzy blue robe. She yawned and rubbed at her eyes.

"Are you feeling better than I am?" she asked, her voice hoarse.

"Probably worse," Jim said. He pulled the covers up to his chin. "You didn't go shot for shot with that Daniel guy. Although, I bet I'm in better shape than Doug."

Pam wandered over and sat on the edge of the bed. "Yeah, but Maddie was mixing my drinks all night, which can get pretty dangerous. So, do you mind if we just bum around the house? I think I'm dying."

"I was going to suggest it if you didn't," Jim said.

"You want breakfast or anything?"

"That's too big a step," Jim replied and pulled the covers over his head.

They spent most of the afternoon on opposite ends of the sofa, bundled up in blankets, watching cheesy reality TV shows and The Princess Bride. They quoted their favorite lines out loud and laughed at all the best parts, but were silent for all the kissing parts and whenever Westley spoke of true love. They could both feel an undefinable something in the air.

Jim licked his lips. "Pam -"

"Do you want lunch?" she interrupted. "I think my stomach can finally handle something other than water."

"Uh, yeah," Jim said. "That's... yeah, exactly what I was gonna suggest. I think I'm gonna make a PB&J, you want one?"

"Yeah, that sounds great," Pam said. She snuggled deeper into her blanket. "Thanks, Jim."

Jim nodded and went into the kitchen. He rubbed his hand over his face and tried to pinpoint the exact moment this week started slipping away from him. It was pretty heavy thinking for peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

He made the sandwiches, plated them and went back into the living room.

"Your Jim Halpert culinary miracle," he joked as he handed Pam her plate. He sat down on his end of the couch and took a big bite out of his sandwich. What was it Charlie Brown had said? Nothing takes the taste out of peanut butter quite like unrequited love? Yeah, that was it... and it was terribly true.

Pam tore the sandwich in half then tore off the corner and popped it on her tongue. "You know, even with a hangover, this has been a great day."

"Yeah, too bad we can't do it more often," he replied.

"Yeah," she said. "You know, I miss you, Jim."

He turned to look at her but didn't say anything. He wouldn't be the one to put himself on the line this time. He wanted to hear her say it now.

She blushed and stared down at her sandwich. She mumbled, "Have you seen the remote?"

He sighed and handed it to her.

That evening they sat side by side on the porch swing and watched the sunset. During the day Jim's hangover had subsided, but the feelings had not. He knew that he would regret it if he went back to Scranton without saying something. No matter what her answer was, at least he'd know.

She sighed contentedly and rested her head on his shoulder.

"This is nice," she said. "I wouldn't change it for the world."

He frowned. "Yeah. Me either."