You watch from the corner of your eye as he enters the cafeteria and sees you sitting with Erica Hahn. For a brief moment you consider waving him over, but your sense of self-preservation is greater than your need to try and make your girlfriend like your best friend, so instead you watch him sit down with Derek at a table as far away from you as he can physically get without leaving the room. Not once does he glance over at you, and when he quickly finishes his lunch and leaves the cafeteria, you find yourself disappointed that he didn't come over and at least say hello.
You don't like this whole mess, and there have been many times in the past three months when you've seriously considered chucking everything and moving to someplace warmer and less rainy than Seattle. Or, at least to some place less inclined to gossip about your personal life. For awhile you didn't mind, didn't care what everyone whispered about you behind your back, but since Mark started giving you the cold shoulder it seemed a little harder to ignore the whispers. It was hard to be tough when your best friend wasn't there to take your mind off of it.
In the back of your mind you know that eventually, you will be asked to choose between them. It may not come as a direct request, but sooner or later something will have to give and a choice will be made. You just hope that when the time comes, the choice you make is the right one.
*************************
You sense his presence before he speaks. You've always known when he was in a room, whether or not you could see him; you are so in tune with him that you instinctively know when he's around. He waits for you to finish your chart before speaking, but when he does his voice is low and what he has to say cuts you to the quick.
"I'm leaving Seattle."
Your heart drops to your stomach, and you feel tears prick behind your eyes. You only vaguely hear him as he gives you some lame reason about having gotten what he came to Seattle for in the first place, and how there is nothing here for him now. He's offered to buy a private practice in Florida, he's leaving Thursday to go and see the practice for himself.
You long to tell him that he can't go, that you need him to stay because you just can't imagine your life without him. Instead, you smile wanly and congratulate him, hoping that you didn't imagine the look of disappointment in his eyes. He walks away leaving you stunned and saddened, because your choice has been made for you and you aren't sure it's the one you would have made.
***************************
Mark returns from Florida with a tan and a spring in his step, but you can't bring yourself to ask him if he's going; you fool yourself into thinking that if you don't ask, it won't happen, it doesn't exist. You choose to walk around with blinders on, but those blinders are quickly removed when Erica tells you that night that Mark is simply waiting for the lawyers and accountants to give the go-ahead.
She sounds almost gleeful about it, and you pull away from her because you don't like it when she's catty. In the last few weeks you've learned that there's a lot about her you don't like, from the way she anal-retentively squeezes the toothpaste from the bottom to the way she puts Cristina down at every turn. You feign illness and leave, but instead of heading back to the apartment you share with Cristina, you head to the Archfield.
He is surprised to see you, but he lets you in and offers you a drink graciously, as though you aren't estranged friends and lovers. You accept the drink and sit on his couch, your heart full but your mouth unable to form the words. He sits next to you and doesn't say a word, doesn't move until you do and finally, you can't take the silence anymore so you get up and get your coat.
He stops you, and you turn to look at him, his blue eyes searching yours. You long to throw your arms around him, to beg him to stay or to take you with him, whichever would be easier. Instead, you simply reach out and stroke his cheek gently, the stubble on his face prickly against your palm, and turn to leave before he can see the tears in your eyes.
*************************
As the time for Mark's departure grows near, you find yourself picking fights with Erica, as though looking for a reason to let her go, to choose Mark instead of her. The last straw comes when she makes an offhanded comment about Mark and Addison, and you lose it. It devolves into a shouting match about how you think she's closed-minded and emotionally stunted and she thinks you're immature and too emotionally attached to people. When you leave her house, you take your belongings with you, throwing the key on the hall table and closing the door with a satisfying slam.
You drive to the Archfield, and when Mark answers the door you throw yourself into his arms. He holds you, and you realize that you've missed this, the smell of his skin, the warmth of his body. His arms feel like coming home in a way that Erica's never did, and you begin to cry in earnest because you waited too long to make your choice, and so it was taken away from you.
He pulls away to wipe your tears, and you ask him in a hoarse voice what you need to say to make him stay. He gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and replies that all you have to do is ask, and before you can even think about it you tell him you love him and need him and want him to stay, the words pouring out of you like a deluge. For a moment you stare at each other, his blue eyes boring into yours, until finally he says that yes, he will stay.
He leans in and rubs his nose gently against yours, his lips a hair's breath away. As his hands caress your face tenderly and his lips finally meet yours, you wonder why you ever thought you had a choice, because in this moment you know that there never was a choice, that it was inevitable that you would be with Mark. His kiss tastes like coffee and scotch and everything warm and familiar about him, and when he picks you up in his arms and carries you to the bed, you wonder how it was that you could have even have considered choosing Erica.
His touch is gentle, and as he removes your clothes his hands skim your skin, as though memorizing your body. Tonight he is making love to you, there is nothing hurried or rushed or illicit about it. He takes his time and lingers in the spots he knows you like best-the nape of your neck, the curve of your hip, the inside of your wrist. When he finally slips into you, filling you, his movements are slow and deliberate and for the first time, you come together, clinging to each other as waves of pleasure crash over you. It is intense and magical and it brings tears to your eyes as you realize how close you came to losing this, losing him.
He wipes your tears away and whispers that he loves you, has loved you for months, and you sigh and settle into the comfort of his arms. His hand gently strokes your hair, and for the first time in months you relax, knowing you are finally home.